The younger vampire launched again, an uppercut to his maker’s guts, doubling him over. Ferrers lashed out with an arm, planting it under Kasper’s ribs. The swat forced him off his feet. Kasper crashed into a workbench.
“I’m going to kill you.” Kasper spat the words out like venom.
Ferrers regained his own balance, hands balled. He clicked his neck side to side, stretching it. “Don’t be foolish. You can’t kill me. I made you. You belong to me.”
Kasper pushed off from the wooden counter. “You don’t own me. You never did.”
The pair grappled, fangs chomping at the bit, the older vampire too strong to succumb, the younger vampire filled with too much bile and loathing to retreat.
Kasper refused to bend to his maker’s will, hammering him with blow after blow, pummelling any part of the body he could reach.
Ferrers refused to wince as punch after punch made contact with his torso. He slapped Kasper, knocking him back, unsteadying him.
The dual of teeth, fangs and blood ripped through the small space of the cellar. None of the wounds inflicted by Kasper were lethal, but he hoped that they would serve to tire the old vampire until the opportunity came to deliver a killer blow. Bites quickly healed. Pain remained unfelt. Blows pounded but resulted in nothing but a mocking laugh from Ferrers.
"Kasper, this is utterly pointless. You can't win, not against me."
He extended his long arm, navigating it through the flying fists, and grabbed Kasper by the throat. He squeezed. The soft flesh felt pliant. If he pressed a little further, he’d feel bone. The tension of the carotid artery felt good against his thumb.
Ferrers cracked his thin lips into a slow smile. "This is fun, isn’t it? Like when we first met.
"It won't kill you, you know. If I snap your neck. You'll wake eventually, as will Rachel. Perhaps I should do that and leave you to clean up this mess. Perhaps I'll take our daughter, after all you took my Richard. He was quite acceptable company. Not you, of course, but resourceful and clever. Not like Rachel of course. She's far more intelligent you know, a highly accomplished woman. She's lost her way a little you see. Perhaps I should leave her here with you, you and your brother. Hmmm, let's see how that scenario pans out shall we?"
Kasper froze. His blue eyes locked on Ferrers’. The words barely formed. “Kill me then. “
Ferrers studied him.
“Dooooo….. it.”
Kasper felt the tiniest softening in Ferrer’s digits. A smile began to form at the corner of his lips. “You… can’t… can… you?”
Ferrers released his grip, turning his back on Kasper. In temper, he kicked Richard’s body. “You bloody children!” he roared.
Kasper doubled over, rubbing his throat. He didn’t need to catch a breath, there was no need of oxygen, but he used the opportunity to take a quick peek at Sophie. She’s breathing at least, that’s something.
“I can’t do right by any of you!” Ferrers stamped around the cellar, his fingers clawed, losing all sense of composure.
“We’re not your children Charles,” Kasper said, standing tall, adjusting his clothing. “At least I was never that, was I?”
Ferrers’ shoulders relaxed and he turned to face Kasper. “Perhaps not. But who are these people to you? No, wait, let me rephrase. Who is the girl to you? Are you here for her, or just your brother?”
So, Kasper thought, he knows. "Leave her out of this. She is not for you. You’re not even fit to speak her name."
Ferrers spoke, watching for a reaction. “Oh, I have spoken her name. We have met on more than one occasion. Didn’t you know?”
“You… you know her?”
“Oh yes, Ms Morgan and I go back quite a few months. To quite a few places too.”
Kasper’s fists curled into balls, ready to strike again. It was pointless of course, he couldn’t kill Ferrers. He wasn’t as fast. He wasn’t as experienced in the kill.
Ferrers took a step towards Sophie, inhaling the blood that had started to form at the base of her skull. A slow trickle. No major arteries hit.
“I would have thought you would have warned her. You surely must have known that she was on my proverbial path. She didn’t seem to know who I was at all though. How interesting.”
Kasper remained silent.
“But then,” Ferrers continued. “Perhaps she doesn’t know who you are.” A cheshire cat smile spread across his face.
Kasper’s lips curled back.
“That has nothing to do with you.”
“Oh, I think it does. I must say I didn’t quite understand why this fairly unremarkable girl should hold my attention at all. She’s no beauty, no great thinker. Yet, every time I’m in her presence I’m quite intrigued. One had chalked it up to her unusual knowledge of our existence. I knew she’d come into contact with vampires. I never thought it would be you! I certainly never thought she would be yours. But perhaps, that’s why I found her so… interesting. The mind is a remarkable thing. Perhaps on some level she reminded me of you.”
“She is not yours to have.”
Ferrers raised his eyebrows. “Oh dear boy, I think I shall take whatever I damn well like. She has your nose, your chin. Why shouldn’t I take her if you don’t want to be mine?”
“Because…”
“Because what?”
“Because she’s my daughter!”
A look of smug satisfaction descended on Ferrers’ face. “I knew it! This does sound like one of those dreadful soap operas, doesn't it dear boy?”
A low growl rattled in Kasper’s throat. He was equipped with motivation, that could be deadly in a fight, but Ferrers had hundreds of years of tactics, strength and agility behind him. A failed attempt to kill Ferrers would result in certain death for everyone in the room.
Kasper knew he would need to find the right moment. He wouldn’t act on impulse again.
"She doesn't know me,” Kasper said, fangs retracting, eyes locked firmly on the ground.
"Oh dear boy," Ferrers said with a tone that hinted at anger, "you ran away from me because I ruined your life, saved it in fact, and yet you happily cast off your responsibilities as a father yourself. So, pray tell, when did you impregnate this wonderful girl's mother? "
Of course, Ferrers knew that it had to be in Antwerp. The dossier, that Richard had worked up, included the name Julie Morgan. Kasper had spat out his love for a girl with that name on many occasions. He had spoken of the life he should have had, with her. Kasper had used it as a weapon, slashing at Ferrers’ heart.
Kasper tipped his chin. "It was after we met."
Ferrers froze into a terrible mask of horror, repugnance and fear. "But you were a vampire then. That's not possible."
"I hadn't become quite as I am now."
Ferrers had every second of their relationship imprinted in his brain. There was one small window of time when this could have happened.
During Kasper's transition to his vampiric state, he had fled. Not for long, but hours were more than enough to find this Julie girl, impregnate her and return.
The two standing vampires turned in unison and stared at the girl. They were both entertaining the same unspoken thought. If Kasper was at least partially a vampire at the time of conception, what did that make the girl?
"Well, this certainly does explain why I am so drawn to her," Ferrers remarked, inspecting the cuts on his knuckles which had already began healing. "Tell me Kasper, can you feel her? Do you feel her like I feel you?"
"I feel something, yes. But it's not the same." The feelings that he had for Sophie, were more complex than Ferrers could ever possibly hope to understand. Kasper doubted that even when Ferrers was human he would have understood what it meant to bring life into the world, the deep connection to another living thing that comes from being pivotal in its creation.
"No, I don't suppose it is," Ferrers said.
They had somehow agreed an unspoken truce, at least while they processed the information.
Kasper, limping a little, walked over to Kurt. Ferrers remained composed, his head cocked, studying Sophie’s reclining body. He was deep in thought. Kasper didn’t care much what about. He knew Sophie would be safe while Ferrers calculated his next move. He could feel it. Kurt, on the other hand, wouldn’t last another a minute without help.
Kasper inspected the wounds. Burst lips. Blackened eyes. Gouged flesh. Torn, frayed skin. Blood bubbled from Kurt. Major arteries missed but still fatal.
Inspecting Kurt's wounds, Kasper knew that he didn't have the skill to save him. The blood loss and damage were already so great, only a vampire with the experience and expertise to administer a large amount of venom, but not enough to turn the victim, could save Kurt and retain his humanity. He knew that if he misjudged it, then his brother would become like him, a vampire. He would not turn someone without giving them a choice. He never had, he never would.
"Save him," Kasper said.
Ferrers turned to him. "Why should I? He will only hold you back Kasper. Why not come with me? We'll bring Sophie with us. I knew I was drawn to her. She has my blood in her veins, she is part of me too. She will be our child, Kasper."
"Save him," Kasper said quietly. “Save him…. and we’ll talk.”
Ferrers shot Kasper a long, cold stare. Kasper met it.
“Very well.”
Ferrers brushed Kasper to one side and approached Kurt’s slumped body. Plunging his fangs into Kurt's wound, he created a vacuum around the torn skin. With the tiniest of motions with his jaw, he expelled the liquid from the small sacks which hosted it.
The venom trickled down Ferrer’s fangs and mingled with the blood of Kasper's brother. The unconscious academic writhed in his chair.
Ferrers’ arms reached around Kurt’s large frame, clenching it to his bosom.
Kasper averted his gaze, occupying his senses with another task – undoing the cords which restrained his brother.
With unfettered access to the dying man, Ferrers pulled him upwards. Ferrers loomed tall, holding the professor in his arms like a lover, sinking his mouth more hungrily into his neck.
Kasper looked on, seeing for the first time what he himself had been subjected to when Ferrers had recruited him.
It aroused a feeling in him that he did not anticipate, one of reluctant understanding. He would not speak the words, nor would he voice them to himself again, but he understood that when pressed, one might do terrible things with the best of intentions. He did not believe that Ferrers’ reason for turning him was altruistic for the aged vampire, for all his bravado, he was perhaps a little lonely.
He did not sympathise with Ferrers, nor did his anger subside, but he understood that when faced with a terrible choice, choose you must.
Ferrers would not let this debt go unpaid. Kasper knew it. He would hold it over him. He had collateral now - Kasper's brother and daughter to bargain with. Then there was Julie. He'd find her no doubt, he'd destroy her if Kasper wasn't suitably appreciative.
Ferrers eventually released Kurt, letting him drop to the floor with a thud. He brushed himself off as if something unpleasant or dirty had dared to touch him, and wiped the blood from the corners of his mouth with his thumb and forefinger. It seemed the daintiest of motions. The illusion of lovers embraced in a moment of passion had subsided.
The amount of venom administered would probably mean that Kurt would remember nothing of the episode, which Kasper considered a blessing. It might be better if he recalled nothing of meeting his brother even, or the days preceding it.
Ferrers left Kasper to adjust his brother's position, moving his arms and legs so Kurt’s pose resembled that of a sleeping child.
Under the scabs and filth of his torture, wounds had begun to heal and Kurt’s heartbeat slowly returned to a pleasant rhythmic purr. Kasper was relieved, but his body tightened as Ferrers approached the prostrate body of his daughter, of Julie's daughter. He would not let him turn her.
"You cannot take her.” Kasper inflated his chest. Fangs protruded from his lips. His pupils were wider and darker than ever.
Ferrers grinned. "There's my boy.”
"I owe you my brother's life, but you took mine. I think that makes us even." Kasper didn't smile, or attempt to curry favour. There was no fondness in his tone, unlike that of Ferrers. "I won't continue to fight you, Charles. You saved my brother and I appreciate that. But we can't go back to what we were either. We are not a happy family.
"No, I suppose not."
"I'm not what you want me to be Charles. I'm not like you."
"I beg to differ. It's in you, you know. You could be like me. Rachel, she couldn't. She's a bold one. Not Richard either. He doesn't feel you see. Not like we do. No passion with that one. Ah well, not that I have to concern myself with that now."
"What do you need to concern yourself with Charles? Me? Is that why you are here?"
"You? Oh heavens no. I came here for her."
"For Sophie?"
"Well, yes I suppose I did. I knew there was something special about her. She's recently moved back here you know, to a place not too far. Of course, I expect you know that. Yes, she is quite remarkable - so much spirit, yet so utterly practical and determined. She reminds me a little of me in some ways."
"I'm sure she's nothing like you," Kasper said.
"Well, we shall have to wait and see won't we?"
"You're not turning her, I won't let you do that Charles."
"No, all things considered I probably shouldn't. She could be quite important you know."
"Important?"
"Oh yes, that's why I'm here with your brother. The rather foolish man came upon a prophetic manuscript which its owners want back."
"Owners?"
"Yes, the Byzantines. Dreadful business. Some vampires don't know their place anymore. The document is a fake of course, but that doesn't mean that the prophecy therein isn't real, or indeed that, in the wrong hands, someone could use it to cause us all quite a few problems. Man has such a history of running with ideas which are entirely fictional, but if enough people believe in their ramblings then the scope and scale of their impacts is just as dangerous as if the tall tale were true."
"And what has this got to with Sophie?"
"Well, here's the curious thing, absolutely nothing. It's pure chance that I happened to be here looking for her when I found out about the blasted thing. Your somewhat deluded brother had it hidden rather shoddily in his drawing room. You must talk to him about that.” Ferrers arched a disapproving brow at the unconscious academic. “I suppose it’s rather funny really. He thinks it's genuine, that it proclaims that Sophie is the Messiah for humankind. That she will somehow have the ability to recognise vampires and reveal us to the world – at least that’s what I assume. Really, it is such a vague piece of nonsense. I assume he thinks it’s Sophie anyway, unless any other vampires have been running around impregnating women. Have you ever heard anything so ridiculous?"
Yes, that you think I could ever be with you, Kasper thought. "No.”
"Of course, as I said, it's dangerous nonetheless. If this gets into the wrong hands, there could be all out war. Vampires coming out into the open is not desirable. It’s my job to reclaim the manuscript and return it."
"And destroy the evidence?"
Ferrers smiled and tilted his head. "I suppose so, that's what I do isn't it?"
Kasper sneered. "So you're back acting as a fixer to whoever pays you? You haven't changed then,"
"They don't know about the girl. They only know about your brother. I've given him enough venom for him not to remember anything that happened for a week at least. He might remember the manuscript, but he’ll no longer have it. If he goes public, then he will simply be dismissed as a madman, a failed academic."
"So, you'll let him live?"
"Yes."
"And Sophie?"
"That's up to you. Will you come back to me?"
"No, Charles. I won't."
"I see."
Ferrers closed his eyes, depth in thought as he mulled over his options. When he opened them, he smiled, with purpose and resilience. He would make Kasper an offer he couldn't refuse.
25
My pulse pounds in my ears. My chest contracts then swells, my heart presses hard into my ribs ready to burst through my chest. Beads of cold perspiration cover every inch of my body. Strangely I feel no shock. Only the kiss of cold air brushing the tender wound in my scalp. A noise. What was that? Shuffling of feet. Hushed tones. Men. Crossed words. Someone’s foot hits my leg. Something brushes past me. A dark shape moves closer in. My eyes flutter. I try to move my lips, but nothing happens. I'm cold, so very cold, a voice in my own head tells me. I think my body is trembling, but I can't be certain. I don't want to die. Am I dying? I ask myself. Is this what death feels like?
The shape moves in closer. The darkness of its arms embraces me as he lifts my head from the ground and lowers his own to kiss it. His mouth circles the hole in my crown where skin should be, his tongue caresses the wound. He latches on, like a baby suckling at the breast.
Something is coursing through my system. I feel something rushing through me. I feel alive. Every neuron in my brain fires. Every molecule quakes.
A veil is lifted.
A surge of understanding overwhelms me. Something has passed between me and the dark figure cradling my body tenderly but with power.
In this moment, we blend and we are one. I taste the outputs of his body melding with mine, the shades of grey in his feelings, his desire, and the benevolence. I feel a burning, a change in me, something lurking, something fighting to break through. Then it comes. The world implodes.
I don’t understand what I’m seeing. What I’m feeling. An orgasmic feeling of utter connectivity engulfs me. I feel my mother. I feel me in her womb. But more than feeling, I see her. I’m like a third party observer watching her life in fast forward.
Sophie Morgan (Book 2): Death in the Family Page 22