The Enemies of Vengeance

by P. A Ross

  I accelerated down the road only twenty minutes away from the safety of the shelter. I could make it, but blue lights flashed in my rearview mirror, as a police car pulled onto the road behind and gave chase. I swerved through the traffic, trying to keep my speed up. The cars behind moved out of the way of the chasing police car to give them a clear run.

  With the traffic out of the way, the police made up the ground. The car I had stolen did not have much power in comparison to the police vehicle. Then more blue flashing lights appeared, and another two police cars tore down the carriageway. They were right on my tail lights. I wasn't going to lose them on this long road. I had to get off it and try to lose them in some traffic.

  The satnav indicated a slip road approaching. I waited for the last possible moment and swerved off to the side, sending two of the police cars shooting past me, but the one at the back skidded around enough to follow. The blue lights helped clear the traffic in front as I drove straight through the red lights on the roundabout. I turned hard right, drifting the car around, kicking up smoke from the squealing tyres. I straightened up and went back down onto the dual carriageway again, in the belief the two police cars I had lost earlier would turn around to chase after me.

  I accelerated down the slip road, rejoining the flow of traffic. The chasing police car followed using the long slip road to catch-up. I waited until it wasn't far away and slammed on my brakes, so it drove straight into the back of me. The front of the police car smashed into my bumper. I figured the empty back end of my car would break the police car's engine. The police car rolled back from the impact, and I reversed to smash into it again.

  I whacked it back into first gear and wheel spun away. I accelerated down the dual carriageway. The police car didn't move; its wheels seemed to be buckled. I slapped the stick through the gears all the way to the top. I rocketed along and moved over to the near side, ready to exit at the next junction.

  In my rearview mirror, faint blue lights flashed. I had a reasonable distance on them, and I could lose them at the next junction.

  I fired straight up the next slip road and filtered into the flow of traffic. I went through the roundabout, keeping to the left-hand side and turned into a supermarket car park.

  The supermarket was open till late, and the orange lights of the logo shone into the sky. The car park had lights all round to guide the shoppers in. A continuous flow of shoppers moved between the building and cars. I navigated through the shoppers and cars to the far end behind the main building and parked it in-between a van and 4x4 jeep.

  Hedges surrounded the car park making a barrier between it and a shopping mall next door. The area had CCTV allowing the police to find me, so I had to make my way out the car park on foot. If I kept to the sides by the hedges and in the shadows, they wouldn't see me. Only if they had heat-sensing cameras would they detect something different about me.

  A police car swung into the car park, and I ducked behind a red estate car. I crawled underneath and lay flat on the floor, waiting for the police to give up and drive off. It circled around a few times until they stopped over the far end where I parked. While they were occupied searching around the area, I crawled out from under the car and made my way out, trying to blend in with the other shoppers. Although I realised my blood stained clothes would attract unwanted attention. I couldn't hang around for too long before I was spotted. In the distance, a helicopter approached.

  I had to find another way of covering my heat signature and getting away from the police. The warmth of the car had sharpened my senses and stopped my hands from shaking, but the escape on foot had opened up my wounds, and blood poured down my arms and out of my stomach. I took off my black jacket and wrapped it tight around my stomach to stop the bleeding.

  I scouted around looking for an old vehicle that would be easy to steal. I found an old white minivan that didn't look like it had an alarm. I went around the passenger side, and used my supernatural strength to crack the door open. I climbed in, clambered across to the driver's seat and cracked open the steering column to hotwire it. The engine hummed into life. Another trick that Thorn had taught me. I sat in the driver's seat and turned up the heater.

  My blood dripped onto the steering wheel, and I looked around the van to find something to act as a bandage. On the dashboard in amongst old newspapers and junk food wrappers, was a wad of serviettes jammed between the dashboard top and the windscreen. I pushed them onto the wounds, with the drying blood holding them on.

  I pulled out of the car park space, driving like a good, well-behaved citizen to avoid detection. As I left the car park, more police vehicles and a few black vans drove in. I suspected it could be full of Hunters, Turned or MI5 agents. I pulled onto the main road and drove away, hoping that no one had seen me.

  I drove to safety, towards Miss Jones' shelter. But as I drove through the night time traffic, horns beeped and lights flashed. A couple of times, I swerved to avoid a collision. My driving had become erratic. My head was swimming, and there was a constant ringing in my ears. I had lost sense in my hands and feet despite the warmth of the van. The wad of serviette bandages had fallen off and blood ran down my arms onto my lap.

  When I finally pulled onto Winchester Street, I lurched the van to a halt and bumped up the pavement. It was about a ten-minute walk to the shelter, I didn't want to park too close as it would reveal my destination.

  I opened the door of the van and fell out. I dragged my feet out of the van and crawled along the pavement. I reached a house and leaned against it to hold myself steady as I stood up. I shuffled down the street, staggering along, bumping against the walls like a drunken man.

  I walked past the discarded police tape when a couple of men approached. "Hello, don't I recognise you?"

  I gazed into the blurry face of a man. His teeth were sparse and black. His breath stank of cigarettes and his hair was greased back. "Yes, I do know you. You're the boy who visited Miss Jones the other day. Looks like you've got yourself into some bother," he said, looking at my blood-drenched arms and stomach.

  "I need to get to Miss Jones," I said with a slur to my speech.

  "Don't you worry boy, rotten Tommy will take care of you. Anyone who is a friend of Miss Jones is a friend of mine. I promised someone I would keep an eye out for her friends," he said and put his arm around me. The other man went to my other side and put his arm around my waist.

  They escorted me down the road towards the shelter. There must have been something about finally being safe, as I couldn't remember the rest of the journey. Next thing I remember, I was waking up alone in a small white room with no doors or windows.

  Chapter Eight

  I opened my eyes and stared up at a white ceiling and walls. I lay on a bed tucked into the corner of a small room. A TV hung on the wall and a fridge sat underneath a suspended wooden counter with a microwave on top. Through a white archway, there was a shower, sink and toilet. I saw no doors, but the ceiling had a hatch with a set of bare wooden stairs leading up to it. The room looked as if it had never been used, and the smell of antiseptic pierced the air.

  My body had been cleaned, and I wore a pair of black boxer shorts and a black T-shirt. Where I'd been attacked by the wolf, I had bandages around my arms and across my stomach, and I carried a few cuts and bruises.

  I pushed myself up on the bed and then onto my feet. I remembered being carried away by rotten Tommy and his friend towards the shelter. But this place didn't look like anywhere in the shelter. It seemed more like a hospital with its clean white walls and sterile smell. But it felt more like a prison with its bare interior and lack of doors and windows. It reminded me of the hospital prison cell Carmella had kept me in.

  "Hello, hello, is there anyone there?"

  I waited for a reply but nothing came.

  "Hello, Miss Jones, are you there? Where am I?"

  There was still no reply. I walked around the bare white room, tapping all the walls and receiving a solid response. I looked
at myself in the shower room mirror. My face was cut to pieces and I had a black eye. I tried my fangs and reddened eyes, and both responded. I was still Dragan, which meant I hadn't been in this room for very long, as the formula would have worn off after two days, but I hadn't healed properly. I walked back out into the main room, past a grey fabric sofa pushed up against the wall, and climbed the wooden stairs to the hatch. I pushed against it, but it was securely locked. There was a small handle on the inside, but the hatch wouldn't budge.

  The room was too nice and my treatment too good for it to have been a prison. I figured it was more like a hospital room with its bare white and clean surfaces. I decided the best thing to do was wait and regain my strength. I still felt a little lightheaded, and my ears began to ring again after wandering around the room. I carefully climbed back down the steps and shuffled across the cold white tiled floor, clambering into the bed and pulled the sheets up to my neck.

  I lay waiting for the room to stop spinning and for the sound in my ears to die down. I closed my eyes, breathed in deeply and then exhaled. Just then, the hatch at the top of the room clicked open.

  Feet appeared at the top of the steps. A pair of black leather boots with high heels. The feet took another couple of steps down and stopped. The feet twisted as the person's body turned back upwards to grab something. They twisted back and continued walking down. The legs came into sight, a pair of skinny blue jeans hugging her hips and a white T-shirt. She was carrying a tray of food. It looked like some kind of stew and rice, with steam coming off it.

  Finally, the woman's chest came into sight and then her face. She had neat dark hair and blue eyes. It took a moment or two, but I recognised the woman. I had met her when Thorn and I had broken into a warehouse of human traffickers. The gang had a group of girls bound and gagged awaiting shipment. Thorn and I had rescued them, and two of the girls had asked to join us and become vampires. Thorn didn't agree but instead sent them to Miss Jones to be looked after. It had been two years since I last saw Lucinda.

  Lucinda smiled as she descended, and I smiled back. I knew by seeing her that I was safe. Behind her another set of trainers and jeans. Again the jeans were figure hugging across the hips. I guessed the next pair of jeans belonged to her friend. Annabel came into view shortly behind Lucinda. Her blonde hair tied back with makeup on her cheeks and around her eyes. She was followed by another set of feet in sturdy black hiking boots and jeans.

  "You are awake. That is good, I wasn't looking forward to waking you up," Lucinda said and stepped off the last stair. I sat upright in bed as Lucinda walked over. She sat on the bed and placed the tray on her own lap. The smell of the beef made my stomach growl and mouth water. Behind, Annabel took the last step off into the room. "You are looking much better than you did yesterday," she said, "how are you feeling now?"

  "Err, confused."

  The final figure came into sight and it was Marcy, Miss Jones, who had a first aid rucksack on her back. She turned around and pulled the hatch down. Then she took the last stairs into the room. "You gave us all quite a fright. It was lucky that rotten Tommy found you. He has taken to patrolling the area after one of our helpers was attacked on the way to working here. I never thought it would amount to anything. Rather just a way of keeping Tommy happy that he was doing something. But thank God he was looking out for any trouble."

  I remembered crashing into rotten Tommy as I stumbled and staggered down Winchester Street to the shelter. "I know, I was surprisingly glad to see him. Will you thank him for me?"

  "You can thank him yourself later. Once we get you well enough to leave here."

  I looked around the room and at the three women. "Where is here?"

  Marcy grinned. "You are in the shelter. This is a hidden room that was built in as Thorn's bolt-hole. It's in my office, just under the desk is a trapdoor."

  "How did Thorn convince them to build a bolt-hole?"

  Marcy walked further into the room and stood by my side. Annabel joined Lucinda sitting on the edge of my bed.

  "Thorn paid for the whole of the shelter to be built. I told her I wanted to help those in need. Those homeless people who had been like me. Thorn agreed as she saw some use in having the shelter. She insisted we built in this hidden room, just in case she needed somewhere to hide. She still pays for the upkeep of the shelter even to this day. There is a trust fund in place. But we do also get money from charities to help fund it, which is more of a smokescreen to stop people asking how we afford it."

  None of this surprised me. Thorn was always one step ahead, thinking about how she could leverage her money to good use if not now but at some point in the future.

  I looked at the food on Lucinda's lap. "Is that for me? I am starving. I think I need food to get better."

  Lucinda stood up with the tray and put it on the table at the side. "The food is for you, but first you need to drink."

  "Okay, but I can't see any water."

  Lucinda giggled and Annabel looked furtively away.

  Marcy stepped in. "Let me explain. I think Lucinda and Annabel are a little bit too embarrassed and scared to tell you themselves. I guess you are still feeling a bit weak to work it out. Although we have cleaned out the rest of the werewolf particles from your wounds, which was stopping them from healing completely, you have still lost a lot of blood. If you transform back to human before this blood is replaced, it could make you critically ill. However, Dragans have a way of healing themselves faster than normal."

  "So it is as I thought, the werewolf bite and claws have an effect on a Dragan. I noticed my wounds didn't heal."

  "Yes, the bite or cut of a werewolf is a supernatural attack on your body, as such, even your own supernatural abilities cannot heal and react as it normally would. The answer is to wash the wounds out, clear away any sign of the creature that bit or cut you. You should know that it is the same if you bite or cut the werewolf when in your Dragan form. The werewolf would struggle to heal. However, your dive into the river helped clear out most of the werewolf, but it also introduced some other harmful bacteria directly into your wounds. And in the meantime, you lost a lot of blood while drifting along."

  "You know I went in the river?"

  "Yes, you garbled something about swimming in the river to mask your heat signature and to get away from the MI5 agents. You were also a bit wet still when rotten Tommy found you, so we put two and two together."

  "So this drink that I need. Where is it?"

  Marcy looked at the two girls. Lucinda smiled and curtsied. Annabel just bit her bottom lip and looked at me from the top of her eyes as she bowed her head.

  "Sorry I don't understand."

  "You're a Dragan, you need blood."

  I hadn't seen them bring anything else down, no packets of blood for me to drink from. And from the reaction of the two girls, I was assuming they meant a more immediate solution.

  "Are you suggesting what I think you are suggesting?"

  "You need blood. I don't just have bottles of it lying around in my fridge. However, Annabel and Lucinda are willing to help. They believe that they owe you a favour."

  I looked at the two young women again. It didn't seem right to be feeding on these two; they were too young and innocent. "Thank you very much, but I'm sure I will be okay."

  Lucinda glared back at Marcy. And Annabel seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. Marcy stared at me and shook her head. "No, Jon, I'm not sure you will survive unless you drink. As soon as you turn human again, your body will go into shock. You need to get yourself back to full health before you revert back to normal. As I said, you would become critically ill otherwise."

  "So I need to bite them and drink their blood. Wouldn't it hurt them?"

  "A pint each from both of them will be enough to restore your health and will not do them any harm. I will be here to time and ensure their safety, but you have little other choice. Surely you have drunk the blood of humans before?"

  "I have but it was in the heat of battl
e, not a direct sacrifice on behalf of the person. I have never done it like that before."

  "What about when you and Thorn performed the Union ritual. Thorn consented."

  "That was different. Thorn is a Dragan."

  "Well, you best get used to it. As you know from Thorn, seducing a person or a willing subject is the easiest way of getting blood."

  "Maybe, but I am just a bit uncomfortable about it," I said and looked over at the two girls offering themselves to me

  Lucinda glared again. "You think it is weird that I am willing to sacrifice my blood. To let you bite me. You think I am some silly young girl?"

  I didn't answer but just gave a small smile back.

  She pursed her lips together."Well remember this, Jon, I am in fact older than you. Just because you now appear older and run around with vampires and werewolves, doesn't mean you are more mature and get to look down on me."

  I sat up straight in the bed and leaned back from her words. "Sorry. I forgot about that. You just look young. Thank you for offering to help me."

  She shook her head. "No, you don't understand. I am not doing this just to help you. I want to do this as I have a request."

  "Okay. I am sure we can help. Is it money or something?"

  She sighed. "No. I want you to kiss me first." I must have reacted badly. "Am I that ugly that the idea repulses you?" she said.

  "No, you are a beautiful young woman. I am just surprised."

  "Surprised. That I would insist on a kiss before you drank my blood. Is it not the way it is normally done?"

  "This isn't a film."

  "I don't care. I want a long kiss. Then you are to kiss down my neck before you bite me and drink my blood."

  "Err. I am not sure. Thorn wouldn't approve."

  Marcy waved her hand to push the objection away. "It's not a problem. I have cleared it with Thorn already. As you know, she often kisses her victim before she feeds on them."

  "Yes, I know that. But this is someone requesting it, not someone who's been hypnotically seduced into it."