by Amy Cross
“Please, no,” Cy stammers, taking another step back. He watches as Cole collapses, and then he turns to me with pure fear in his eyes. “We have to get out of here! I think her pack might be closer than we'd realized.”
With that, he turns and runs, stumbling a little as he races toward the treeline. I watch in horror as he gets further and further away, but then suddenly I see a dark shape rushing through the forest. Whatever the shape is, it crashes into him and knocks him to the ground, and he cries out briefly before falling quiet.
Turning, I start hurrying toward the far end of the ruined church. I don't know what the hell is going on here, but I'm convinced that the whole thing has to be another hallucination. In my damaged state, I've clearly begun to lose my mind entirely, which means I have to get back to London as quickly as possible and see a doctor. As I race around one of the church's broken walls, however, I suddenly slam into a male figure, and I'm quickly pushed back until I slam against the ground.
“Who are you?” the guy asks, towering over me.
“Wait,” I stammer, “what -”
“Are you one of them?” he continues, as a girl steps into view and follows him toward me. “Where's Madeleine?” He stares at me for a moment, before opening his mouth to reveal a row of sharp fangs.
Eighteen
“He's not one of them!” the girl hisses, grabbing the guy's arm and pulling him back as he towers over me. “Don't let your anger take over! Look at him, he's nothing to do with those bastards! He's just an ordinary human! He's pathetic!”
The guy doesn't seem convinced for a moment, and I can see the large, sharp fangs in his mouth as he stares at me.
“Marston, please,” the girl continues, placing a hand on his arm as if to hold him back. “Remember what we talked about. Stop.”
“Who are you, then?” the guy asks, still watching me with great suspicion. “If you're not one of her wretched familiars, what are you doing here?”
“He has her scent,” the girl whispers. “He has Madeleine's scent.”
“Of course he does,” the guy sneers. “If he helped kill her, he -”
“No, not like that!” She pauses, eyeing me with a hint of concern. “I think he spent time with her. Not when she died, but before that. Can't you tell from the way her scene has settled on him?”
I wait, too terrified and shocked to move a muscle or say a word. My mind is racing, and I can't help hoping that this entire situation is a product of my fevered imagination. It has to be.
“We got them,” the girl says finally, before stepping past the guy and taking a closer look at me. “My name is Sheffield,” she continues, “and this is Marston. We're... We were friends of Madeleine's. Is that what you were, too? Were you her friend?”
“I...”
Shaking with fear, I can't even manage to get any words out.
A faint smile crosses her lips.
“You were her friend,” she says after a moment. “I can tell from the scent. You spent time with her, and she wasn't scared during that time. And you weren't with her when she was attacked last night, but...” Her voice trails off. “You're mortal, right? You're just a human.”
“He's pathetic,” the guy mutters darkly. “Look at him. He's only good for one thing.” Grinning, he reveals his fangs once again.
The girl crouches in front of me. “Like I said,” she continues, “my name is Sheffield and this is Marston. We were in a pack with Madeleine, before we all got separated. We were friends for a long, long time. Longer than most humans can even imagine.” She pauses, before holding a hand out toward me. “There's no need to be scared,” she adds. “If we were going to kill you, we'd have done it by now. And that's a promise.”
Staring at me, she seems lost in thought for a moment, but there's a faint smile curling across her lips.
“Boo!” she yells suddenly, leaning closer.
I pull back, briefly filled with panic until I realize that she's giggling.
“That was great,” she continues, clearly very amused until – with no warning at all – she suddenly snaps back to sorrow. Her eyes fill with tears and she genuinely looks utterly bereft. “We should hold a funeral,” she says finally, her voice trembling slightly. “We have to mark Madeleine's death. She was a vampire and we have to hold a funeral for her.”
Marston sighs. “We don't even know that she is dead. If she really burned last night, she -”
“Clearly she's dead,” Sheffield replies, interrupting him. “We must mark her passing.”
***
“We killed them way too quickly,” Marston hisses, tossing Cole's drained corpse aside. “We should have tortured them for weeks! We should have introduced them to more pain than the human mind can stand!”
“They're dead now,” Sheffield replies, staring down at what's left of Cole before slowly turning to me. “These two bastards have been tracking us for a couple of years. They believed themselves to be on Madeleine's side, they thought they were her familiars, but really they were just glorified stalkers. We always managed to stay one step ahead of them until recently, but they're so persistent. We had a plan, we thought we could get rid of them but...” She smiles. “For mortals, they were remarkably pig-headed. They irritated us more than you might imagine.”
She pauses, and now there are tears in her eyes once again. I swear, her mood seems to change with the breeze.
“Madeleine,” she whispers finally. “I can't believe she's gone. She was...”
Her voice trails off, as the first tear trickles down her face.
“They had no right!” Marston shouts, grabbing Cole's dead body once again, and this time starting to tear the stump of his neck. He seems to be in the throes of a tantrum, and I watch in horror as he rips the body apart and starts pulling out the rib-cage. It's as if, consumed by anger, he's tearing Cole apart.
“I never thought she'd actually die,” Sheffield sobs, ignoring Marston's continued tantrum. “I always thought we'd find a way to help her. No matter how bad things seemed, I always...” She takes a deep breath, as if she's trying to get herself back under control. “Of all of us, Madeleine was the one who should have survived. She was the one who had something better in mind. She always told us we were too immature, that we needed to grow up a little. She was right.”
“Damn them!” Marston snarls, finally throwing what's left of Cole's boy to the ground. “There was no point torturing them anyway! There's not enough pain in the world to make them suffer for what they did to her! We'd have to invent something new, something worse than pain.” He turns and looks toward the forest. “I should drag the corpse of the other one over here. Maybe there's still a glimmer of life left in his meat.”
“I have a few ideas about how to avenge Madeleine's death,” Sheffield says darkly, before giggling again. Her eyes are still fixed on me, which is kind of creepy. “But first, we need to hold a funeral. Madeleine was a good egg, I liked her a lot. I'm not usually a big fan of tradition, but we should mark her passing in the proper manner.” She pauses. “Have you ever seen a vampire funeral, mortal boy?”
She waits for me to reply, but I simply stare in horror.
“You're not real,” I whisper finally.
“Huh?”
“None of this is real,” I continue, starting to shiver. “I'm imagining the whole -”
She bursts out laughing.
“Stop!” I hiss, starting to get to my feet. “I swear -”
“Don't,” she says firmly.
“Don't what?” I ask.
“Run. Don't do it.”
“How do -”
“That's what you're thinking,” she continues. “I'd know it even if I couldn't slip into your thoughts, but...” She pauses again, before her smile grows. “Who's the bird in the bathtub?”
“What do -”
“A dead mortal in a bathtub,” she adds. “Cut wrists. I'm getting this really strong image of her, and you're -”
“Stop!” I say firmly.
“Why?
Because it upsets you?”
“I just don't -”
“She killed herself,” she continues, with a hint of wonder in her voice. “Someone you loved, she cut her own wrists and you blame yourself for not finding her in time.”
“No,” I reply, keen to shut this conversation down. “Absolutely not.”
“It all seems very melodramatic,” she adds, before starting to giggle. “Why the hell did the dumb bitch kill herself, anyway? Human lifespans are already so short, you might as well stick around for all of it. Let me guess, she was all emotional and troubled and -”
“You don't know what you're talking about!” I say firmly. “Sonja -”
“Sonja!” she laughs. “That's the name! I was struggling, all I was getting from your head was this sappy -”
“Shut up!” I shout, lunging at her and knocking her to the ground. She pushes back, but for a moment I actually have the strength to hold her down, at least until she starts laughing uncontrollably.
“Are we doing this funeral or not?” Marston asks from nearby. “I want to get out of this goddamn place.”
“I am so turned on right now,” Sheffield giggles, staring up at me. “I've never mated with a mortal but -”
“Go to hell!” I mutter, getting to my feet and turning to walk away, only to find that Marston is blocking my way. “What do you want with me?” I ask, as I hear Sheffield getting to her feet behind me. “Am I just dinner for you guys? Is that it?”
“Why do you assume we want anything?” Marston asks. “We always just take what we want. End of discussion.”
“You're not real,” I tell him.
“I'm not?” He smiles. “Then try to walk away. I promise you, you won't get far. Maybe I'll cut your ankles, leave you writhing on the ground until I can be bothered to drain you. But if you think we're not real, if that's what you truly believe, then by all means try to leave.”
He steps aside, as if he's inviting me to run.
“What's wrong?” he asks. “Are you starting to think that maybe we are real after all?”
I want to tell him to go to hell, and to get out of here, but I can't quite bring myself to take the risk.
Marston stares at me for a moment. “Let's just get on with Madeleine's funeral,” he says finally. “We don't have a body, but that's okay. We each need something she gave us, though. Do you have something, Ben?”
“Yeah, Ben,” Sheffield whispers, leaning close to my ear from behind, until I can feel her hot breath on my skin. “Do you have anything that Madeleine gave to you?”
Nineteen
“It's just a diamond,” Marston says a short while later, as we stand at the edge of the lake. “I don't even know where she got it, but she said she it didn't really mean anything to her. She told me I...”
He pauses, staring down at the small chunk of diamond in the palm of his hand. After a moment, he leans down and sets it atop the bundle of twigs he's tied together, and then he sets fire to one section of the makeshift raft before pushing it out across the water.
“It's not much,” he continues, watching the flames as they build. “Madeleine and I were never close like that, but we were friends. I'm going to miss her.”
“This is her hair,” Sheffield says after a moment, holding up a set of dark strands. “One night a couple of years ago, Madeleine and I talked about what would happen if either of us died and we had to hold a funeral. The idea seemed crazy at the time, like a kind of fantasy. We tried to think of something we could give each other, for an occasion like this, and in the end we each cut off a lock of our hair. I guess she still had mine somewhere, but...”
Her lips twitch slightly, as if she's about to start laughing, but finally she sets the hair on her own little pile of twigs, which she lights before pushing it away from the shore.
“I know it's dumb,” she continues, “but I'm gonna miss having that part of her around. I swear to God, those bastards who tracked her down and killed her...”A flicker of pure hatred crosses her features. “No vampire should ever die. It's unnatural. Madeleine was more than a thousand years old. She should have had eternity ahead of her, like the rest of us.”
I watch as the two little rafts continue to burn on the surface of the lake.
“Your turn,” Marston says finally. “What do you have, anyway? What did Madeleine give you?”
Reaching into my pocket, I take out the necklace that I guess Madeleine must have slipped in there at some point.
“I don't even know why I have this,” I tell them. “She didn't say anything about...” My voice trails off for a moment. “I saw a photo in a museum in town, Madeleine was in the picture and she was wearing this. I guess -”
“No need for a speech,” Sheffield mutters, holding her hand out toward me. “Pass it over.”
I look down at the little bundle of twigs I tied together.
“The reason for sending these offerings out onto the water,” Sheffield continues, “is so that they can find their way to the deceased vampire in the next world. Unfortunately, it only works if they're sent by other vampires, so I'll have to do it for you.” She still has her hand outstretched, waiting for me to give her the necklace. “Let's get this over with.”
“But if -”
“Just give it to me,” she adds, with a hint of irritation in her voice. “For God's sake, are you always this indecisive? You have to give it to me voluntarily, I can't just rip it from your cold, dead hands. Believe me, if that was an option...”
I hesitate for a moment, before dropping the necklace into the palm of her hand and taking a step back.
“Finally,” she whispers, her eyes filled with relief. “I thought... Well, I thought I'd never see this thing again.” She pauses, before turning and tossing it over to Marston. “See? What did I tell you? Now we can really finish the bitch off.”
“What do you mean?” I ask cautiously. “Aren't you going to -”
“You're very easy to fool, aren't you?” she continues, taking a step toward me. Her left foot crushes the little raft of twigs that was supposed to carry the necklace out onto the water. “I mean your whole species, not just you. Very each to manipulate.”
“I actually began to doubt that I'd ever get this back,” Marston says with a smile, holding the necklace up and watching as it glints in the midday sunlight. “Madeleine was always so keen to keep it guarded. Then again, I don't blame her. I'm sure it carried great sentimental value.”
“Do you remember how long it took her to choose that goddamn thing?” Sheffield asks, still grinning wildly as she turns to me. “When a mortal becomes a vampire, they're allowed to take one thing from their old life. Just a memento, a little knick-knack so they can remember how they started out. Madeleine decided to take her mother's necklace. I watched as she slipped it off the dead woman's thin neck, outside their burned village in a Pottalucian village more than a thousand years ago.”
“You were there?” I ask, before turning to Marston. “You were both there when Madeleine became a vampire?”
“How do you think she was became one in the first place?” he asks, closing his fist around the necklace. “Sheffield and I were just wandering aimlessly when we found their little village. We weren't even particularly hungry at the time. We just killed them all for sport.”
“We drank their blood one by one,” she adds, “until all that was left were two children. Poor Madeleine and poor Edgar, her brother, cowering in the corner.” She chuckles, as if she still finds the memory amusing. “And then I figured, why don't we give them another chance? We'd never offered anyone the gift of immortality before, so Marston them in just the right way. After that, they had no choice but to come with us. Edgar ran, he wanted nothing to do with us, but Madeleine was more confused. She needed comfort and guidance. We became a tight little pack, roaming Europe for hundreds and hundreds of years until...”
Her voice trails off.
“Until what?” I ask, trying not to panic.
“Until
she became a major league bitch,” she spits back at me. “Eventually she wanted us to stop killing so many innocent people. She started harping on about the need to fight our instincts. God, she started to bore me.”
“We decided to get rid of her,” Marston continues, squeezing his hand tight around the necklace. “Since I was the one who converted her, I was the only one who could do it, but I needed this tatty piece of crap first.” He pauses. “If there's one thing that bugs me about our species, it's all the ridiculous rules. A vampire can only be killed by whoever gave them immortality in the first place. I was the only one who could make her mortal again.”
“We caught up with her a few times,” Sheffield explains, “but she always gave us the slip. And then last night, we pushed her to the brink of death and then we found she'd passed the necklace along to someone else. Without it, we couldn't quite finish her off, but fortunately we knew she couldn't have just tossed it away.”
“Another rule,” Marston adds. “She had to give it to someone she cared about.”
“This is insane,” I stammer, taking another step back. “None of this can be happening...”
Sheffield tilts her head to one side. “You think we're crazy?”
“He thinks he's crazy,” Marston tells her. “You know what mortals are like. Their minds are so fragile.”
“We needed to trick you,” Sheffield continues, “into giving Marston the necklace. Now he has it, he's free to take back the gift of immortality that he gave to Madeleine. And the necklace had to be placed willingly in his hand, he couldn't just take it by force. Madeleine never would have done that, but you did. And all it took was for us to invent some garbage about a vampire funeral.” She giggles again. “You're just so typically credulous for a mortal, aren't you? I hope I wasn't so dumb back in my mortal days.”
“She's close,” Marston says suddenly, turning and looking the other way. “She must know what we're planning.”
Sheffield turns and follows his gaze, and now they both have their backs to me.