Before I left the camp, I faced the forest and took a long whiff of the air. I let my nose dig into the trees beyond the side wall, holding the scent in my nostrils, hoping to detect the faintest trace of blood ripe enough for drinking. I gave Alessandra the message to bring the girl a sack of seeds and told her I was going for water. I headed into the woods with the cart, as dusk settled in.
I cut through the trees, trailing the scent of a buck. I was disinterested in the animal for myself but wanted it for my girl. It would mean several weeks worth of food for her. It had been a while since I had smelled such large game. The forest had seemed all but abandoned by its four-legged nesters. I picked up speed, as I felt myself coming closer to the roe deer. When I spotted the reddish summer coat, I stopped several feet away. I watched in silence as the buck picked at the leaves of the brush. It seemed undeterred by the apocalypse ravishing the earth, unaware of the new predator hunting its flesh. I practically floated on air as I made my way closer to the animal. It was deaf to my approach, as it pecked at the briar root. It chewed the branch greedily and the forest echoed with the sound. All things dropped away, as I moved in sync with the buck’s jaw, its chewing dictating the rhythm of my pace.
When I was a few meters from it, I crouched low to the ground and then stretched long as I propelled myself up from the path. My energy faltered and I barely made it off my feet. The twigs beneath me snapped and the startled buck looked back in my direction. I realized then I had been mistaken. I had not stalked a roe deer at all, but an emaciated corpse, pecking at the rotting flesh draped over the brush. I tumbled backwards, as the bloodless lunged in my direction. It did not attempt to bite me, even as it swatted at me with its mangled arms, protecting its find. I pushed myself up, grabbed the cart and took off in the opposite direction.
My delusions were getting the better of me. It was not the first time I had imagined something that was not actually there. I needed to feed. I raced through the forest to the ravine at the other side of the woods. The wheels of the cart bounced off the ground, as I dragged it behind me. I could hear the water rushing and smell the fresh spring, as I approached. By the time I arrived, darkness had seeped in through the trees. I crept up to the water, careful not to arouse a swarm. I had a small amount of powder from one of the seeds hidden in my pocket and could only hope it would keep the bloodless away. I dropped to my knees and tasted the cold water, wishing it would somehow refresh me, reinvigorate my senses. But only blood—her blood—would suffice.
I sunk the canteens in the stream and when their skins were swollen, I corked them and slung them over my shoulder. I was feeling rather defeated, believing I was stronger than this. I failed at the sacrifice I was trying to make—anemic or not, I wanted to feed on my girl—and then I smelled it, the slightest trace of blood on the air.
Human blood.
I abandoned the cart and tracked the scent west through the forest. I slid past trees and tripled my pace, as the smell became stronger, sharper, its promise boosting my energy. I trampled pines, twigs, roots and stumps, jumped over shrubs and under branches, until I reached the end of the woods. As I stood on the cliff, facing the swollen expanse, I realized the scent came from a distance far greater than I could travel. I spotted the ship at the furthest reaches of the sea, carrying the human cargo along the waves. The smell wafted through the air like the beguiling charm of the Siren and I stood on the ledge, yearning to pull it to me. I watched it sail past the French Isle and into a port somewhere else, not realizing the swell of the waves put me in a trance—I stopped thinking and only dreamed.
I imagined hearing Evelina’s cry from beyond the other side of the woods. My heart raced, as I dreamed of tearing across the forest path to scale the trees that hung over our walls. I would hop down from the branch, spilling the canteens of water across the grassy lane. I could even hear Alessandra, counting out the breaths, as the boy paced the girl’s doorstep outside. He would greet me coldly before I grabbed him by the neck and dug my iron fangs deep into his jugular, ripping open the skin and draining him of his hot blood. I would toss his limp body across the yard, as the girl’s screams tore through her hovel. I imagined her cry of pain would irritate me second only to her stench, the smell of her insides being ripped open. The taunts of her fresh blood would provoke me. The grace and discipline I spent millennia honing would be gone. I would not resist the child, the saccharine plasma of the newborn would be my dessert—its mother’s blood filling my appetite. I imagined turning my iron fangs on Evelina, shooting my venom deep into her veins and making her mine—consecrating her my vampire!
Vincent come—I imagined the new mother disheveled, draped with bloodstained linens, her skin exposed in desirable places, the rush of fluid through the rivers of her arms, legs, neck, her perfect, ageless flesh—living flesh. Vincent come—I imagined caressing her lips with my tongue, wetting my fangs as they dropped and pierced the edge of her mouth, the swell of her juice, as the blood gushed to meet me, the sweet taste of Evelina, as it trickled down my throat, hot and sticky like boiled honey. Vincent stop—seconds away from tasting my imagined ecstasy, I succumbed to my frailty and dropped out of consciousness on the edge of the cliff.
When I woke, my vision was blurred and only a fragment of my fantasy remained. The urgency of tasting Evelina’s blood had dissipated, the spell broken, but I was grateful to be far from her at that moment. I drew in fresh air, as I tried to revive myself, my thoughts. Human blood was all around me—the smell unmistakable. That heavenly fragrance of tin and cloves tickled my venom and piqued more than my curiosity. I leaned over the ledge and peered down the face of the cliff. I saw a flicker of light tucked inside a hollow at the base of the promontory where the tide rolled up onto the sandy beach.
My talons did most of the work, as I scaled the rock to the shore. I struggled to keep myself from sliding a few times, my claws having weakened without her blood, but I kept my fingers engaged and dug my feet in. The stone crumbled beneath each kick of my boot, as I made clefts in the bluff for my climb back up. Sometimes just the promise of a taste is enough to give me energy.
When I finally reached the beach, I was several feet from the opening of the hollow and I sucked in the fresh blood. As I made my way to the opening, I heard voices, at least two men speaking a tongue I had mastered centuries ago.
“We need to leave,” one of them said.
“We can’t,” said the other, “not until he can walk.”
“We’ll have to carry him.”
“What?”
“We can’t stay here.”
“He’s in too much pain.”
“But we have to go.”
“What if I catch us some fish tomorrow?”
“There’s no fish.”
“But what if—”
“We’ve got to go.”
“Shush!” A third one spoke this time. “Do you hear that?”
“What? I don’t hear—”
“Shush.”
I pressed myself up against the rock just outside the hollow. One of the men poked his head out of the opening and looked around. He squinted, as he peered in my direction, but I had wedged myself into the rock and he could not see me. “It’s nothing,” he said, as he tucked himself back inside.
“What if she comes back? What if she finds us?”
“That isn’t going to happen,” the third man said. His voice was the most deadpan of the three. “She won’t find us.”
“Humph.”
“What?”
“You think she—” The one who peeked his head out trembled more than the other two. “Never mind.”
“No,” the tired one said. “She wouldn’t risk it.”
“So what’s the plan then?”
“I told you we’ve gotta leave first thing.”
“How are we going to scale the rock?”
“We’re going to follow the shoreline,” the tired one said. “Till we find the best place to go up.”
“What abo
ut your leg?”
“I’ll be fine,” he said. “Now let’s get some rest.”
The men fell silent and my fangs dropped, as I licked my lips in anticipation. But I hesitated and I am not sure why. With the grace I may have now considered a curse, I stopped to contemplate the use they may be to me over the long term. If I were to bring them back, they could serve me indefinitely with their blood. I would gain much more if I did not waste them all at once, and I was still intent on repopulating the earth. My mind spun, as I deliberated their fate, letting preservation win out—theirs and mine. I decided on a plan and somehow gathered enough strength to see it through.
I faced the rock wall again and dug in my talons. The clefts I made on the way down were invaluable on the way up, plus Alessandra had taught me how to spring vertically and I exploited my newly extended reach. When I got to the top, I headed into the forest toward the ravine. I tracked the bloodless to a little clearing of velvety grass littered with acorns. The oak trees made a natural pergola with their leaves.
The bloodless wrestled with a severed animal haunch and did not hear me approach. I had readied the strap from one of the canteens to use as a leash, planning to slip it over his wrists and drag him off by the arms, but when I reached for him, he scrambled forward, making a clumsy escape through the brush. He leapt on all fours like an animal into the bushes in front of him, leaving the haunch behind, but he did not get far when his flesh got caught in the branches. He howled when I tied the leather strap around his neck, so I stuck the haunch in his mouth to shut him up. I bound his wrists the best I could with his flesh worn away as it was. The horror of such decayed humanity made my venom freeze within my veins. I could not look the bloodless in the eyes—they were windows into a hallowed hell I would do everything to avoid.
Once bound and gagged, I dragged him back through the forest. When we reached the promontory, I dropped him close to the edge. I did not doubt he could smell the humans since he was agitated, and before I could free his arms, he rolled away from me and over the edge of the bluff. The bloodless plummeted to the sandy shore, hitting it with a thud that was drowned out by the crashing waves. I rushed down after him—he was useless to me tied up.
When I caught up to him, he was turning over in the sand. One of his legs barely hung from his hip, but he still clawed the ground with his bound wrists, trying to reach the humans. I snapped the binds off with my talons, and the bloodless used his hands to pull himself up, falling when he tried to walk. He was persistent though and crawled through the sand on all fours to reach his prey.
“What is it?” One of them said from the hollow.
“It’s one of them,” the tired one said.
“What should we d—”
“Shush!”
They thought if they kept quiet enough the darkness would protect them. The bloodless stuck out his tongue and lapped up the air, as he reached the opening of the hollow. The anticipation of tasting their blood teased the tips of my fangs and I felt a rush of heat through my cold body. My delicate points had already dropped again. The bloodless twisted his head and jut out his chin, raising his left hand, as he inched his way over the threshold. One of the men screamed and another yelled for Paul before I crossed into the darkness.
“Get it!”
“I can’t see it,” the other said.
The injured man shrieked, as the bloodless reached for him. He could not have seen the creature but must have sensed his proximity. The other two men cowered along the inside edge of the rock. The bloodless got hold of the injured one and was about to sink his jaw into his arm when I stuck my dagger deep in his neck. I reached into my pocket and pulled out some of the powder. The bloodless scrambled backwards, but not before I blew it in his face. He dragged himself away, deeper into the hollow.
I wasted no time reaching for the man’s arm and sinking my fangs in before he knew who got a piece of him. He had passed out, but still fresh to taste. I siphoned the blood quickly with muted force, indulging in the thickness of his savor. I let the blood linger in my mouth before ingesting it and enjoyed my energy’s rise with his ichor, relishing that familiar tingle. His blood was unlike the girl’s, savory rather than sweet, but in some ways more potent. When I finished feeding, I let the man’s arm drop. My head spun with delight and I barely noticed the other two cowering against the rock.
“He’s gone,” one of them said.
“Paul?” The other asked.
“You are safe now,” I said, my voice rumbling along the walls of the cavern.
“Who—who—?”
The injured man stirred and muffled groans echoed in the hollow. I crouched beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder. The blood from his wound had clotted.
“Who are you?” The oldest of the three spoke first.
“I am from a village not far from here,” I said. “We have a camp. It is safe.”
“How did you—I mean, where did—”
“I was fishing along the shore when I heard the screams,” I said.
The two men slowly came away from the wall. “We should make a fire,” the older one said.
I pulled out the piece of flint I carry with me and struck it on the steel of my blade. The small sparks eventually erupted into flame. Once the hollow was lit, the two men picked up their injured friend and laid him close to the fire. He groaned a little but had passed out again. They could see me now and the young one’s eyes grew wide.
“Are you a viking or something?”
I smiled and offered them the canteens, which they drank greedily.
“Paul’s injured,” one of the men said. “His leg’s hurt pretty bad.”
“I have medical supplies back at the camp,” I said. “I can bring you to it if you would like.”
“You got food?”
“Enough,” I said.
“Paul can’t walk,” the older man said.
“I can carry him up,” I said. “I have a cart that we can use to pull him the rest of the way.”
I planned on scaling the rock, using the clefts I had made to get us to the top. If we left in the dark, they would not fear the vertical rise as much and the light of the moon would be enough to guide them. I put out the fire and led them from the cavern. The young one, Tim, introduced himself when we exited the hollow. Beck looked the oldest of the three, and I carried Paul on my back while the other two followed behind.
The climb was difficult—for them, not me. I masked my strength by keeping their pace and followed them up, guiding them as we went. When we finally reached the top of the bluff, the men needed to catch their breath.
“How … how can you do it?” Tim asked me.
“I recently ate,” I said. He could not appreciate the humor.
We headed into the forest back to the ravine. I kept their pace but I could not quell my desire to fly. Paul’s blood had a strange effect on me. I could feel every single one of my nerve endings fire, as if a small electrical shock ran through my body. I was not inebriated, but also not sober. In the mid-seventies, Byron and I shared a girl so high on something we felt its effect. The barbiturate accelerated our senses and things looked unlike themselves. The field on our way back to the tombs at LaDenza was like a sea of toothpicks, standing upright and firm. Each blade scratched against our marble skin, as we moved through the grass. The sound was like nails on a chalkboard. Byron was soon sick and vomiting blood, as we made our way home. He recovered more quickly because of it. The blood plagued me until I washed it away with clean drink. Paul’s blood was tainted the same way but I enjoyed its intensity. The vibrancy was a welcomed change to my starved state.
As the men slogged through the forest, I wanted to race. Time stood still and every single thing appeared to be made of stone—like me. The solid trees were like pillars standing at the gates of Zeus—the leaves were crystallized effigies strung up on titanium branches—the ground beneath my feet sounded with a great boom each step I took, the earth shaking as though its plates shifted eve
ry time I laid my foot down—and I smelled all the animals, dead and living.
We came across a trail of small game that looked like it had been drained of its blood, and the men tripped over the carcasses, as we passed. The darkness hid everything from them and they clung to me, as I led them through it. “We are almost at the ravine,” I said.
When I saw two of the bloodless up ahead, I laid the injured man down and told the others to stay put. I checked the forest around us and when I did not see a swarm, I left the men where they were and moved toward the bloodless. I pulled out another little handful of powder—reaching into my pocket was like wading through syrup, my limbs were heavy and rigid, their weight almost more than I could bear—and moved slowly toward the fiends. When I was finally close enough, I brought my hand to my mouth and blew the powder at them. It seemed to float in midair, revealing each separate grain of dust. The bloodless could not flee the wrath of the plant and they howled when the powder stung them as acid ate skin. I returned to the men when the bodies dropped to the ground.
“Are they gone?” Tim asked.
“How did you do that?” Beck asked. “Your speed … it’s impossible.”
“You could see me?” I asked.
“One minute you were right here, and then the next—I could hear them—drop—it’s like you never left.”
Only I experienced the slow motion. “We have to keep moving,” I said, picking up Paul and slinging him over my shoulder.
When we finally reached the ravine, I put the injured man down on its ridge and splashed water on his face. I handed the other two the canteens and told them to fill them. “I am going to head a little further down stream to catch some fish,” I said.
Before I left, I pointed to the cart and suggested they place their friend on it to await my return. Their whispers reached me, as I disappeared into the shadows.
“How can he see in the dark?”
“He’s not human,” Tim said.
“What is he then? Cause he sure isn’t one of them …”
I followed the edge of the ravine, noticing how the rushing water looked stagnate. I could see each droplet, as it clung to another and moved in a herd to the pool at its end. The water revealed its treasures to me, from the amebas sucking parasites off the rocks on the pool’s floor to the trout wading just below the surface. I dunked my hands in the fresh stream and stabbed five fish, one with each talon, pulling them up and slinging them on the belt at my waist.
The Journal of Vincent Du Maurier Trilogy (Books 1, 2, 3) Page 17