Son of a Vampire: A Dark Creatures Tale

by Ella Stone

  “All of this… All of this is yours?”

  “It is.”

  “How?” It was a question he wasn’t sure he wanted answered. It was only too easy to imagine how he had come into possession of such wealth. Yet it didn’t somehow seem his style. He had never struck him as an avaricious man.

  “I was left, shall we say, a small amount of wealth by the vampire who turned me. Since then, I’ve had plenty of time to invest. Spice trails, diamond and gold mines, even railway. I was there to do it all.” With the last box now tightly packed with gold and taken back to its place, with an ease no mere human could have managed, Polidori replaced half of the keys and closed his case.

  “These are for you,” he said, handing the keys to boxes 109 to 114 to Calin. “We will need some cash, too. We’ll organise that up top.”

  Polidori moved to the door but Calin didn’t follow immediately. His eyes were fixed on the small pieces of metal in his hands. Such tiny things but with the potential to change so many lives. One of those diamonds alone, how much would that be worth? He couldn’t even hazard a guess. Probably more than he could earn in ten lifetimes. And yet there he was, being given them as though they were nothing special at all.

  “Why are you doing this? Why on earth?” he asked.

  “Why? I thought that would be obvious. If I have to spell it out, there are several reasons. I had been arrogant enough to think that immortal and invincible were the same thing. I had made no arrangements for my wealth, should I meet my end. But, more importantly, I would not be here now if it were not for you, Calin. My debt to you is far greater than any gift could ever repay. Also,” he continued. “You are my responsibility. As you told me on that first day, you didn’t ask for this life and, currently, you are ill equipped for it. This gift should go some way towards rectifying that.”

  There seemed no words adequate enough to express his gratitude for what he had just received, yet those were all he had to offer. “Thank you,” he said.

  “I would suggest investing. Perhaps not straight away. You should see a little bit of the world first. Find out where your heart lies.”

  That seemingly innocuous line caused Calin’s thoughts to flick back to the place where he knew his heart lay. With Ruth, her legs wrapped around him, as he kissed her. Her lips, her neck. His mouth moving lower and lower down her body. He shook the image from his mind.

  “However, there is one thing I need from you,” Polidori continued.

  “Of course.”

  “Tonight, I must go out. I could arrange for someone to stay with you, but I thought that perhaps…”

  “You want to know if you can trust me to stay in the house on my own?” Calin finished for him.

  “Can I?”

  Calin immediately knew the answer. Despite that, he lifted his gaze and looked Polidori square in the eyes.

  “Of course you can,” he said.

  6

  “‘Scuse me, sir?” The voice startled Calin for a moment. “Can you spare some change?”

  “What?”

  “Some money. Can you spare some money? Or food? Money or food?”

  Money was something he had plenty of. Polidori had shared with him a generous portion of the cash he had withdrawn the previous night. Just looking at it and imagining how he could have used it in his previous life, had been a useful distraction. He had waited in the house alone that evening, not knowing how far Polidori had gone, or how long he would be away. A man with his own vault in a bank would not be stupid enough to simply walk out the front door and leave him unattended without a second thought. So, he had waited until he’d heard the car leave and then waited longer still. After an hour, he had left, keeping to the shadows, his pockets stuffed full of notes and a scarf wrapped tight around his ears to protect himself from the sound of pulsing blood as he passed people in the street. And he’d done it. He had managed to slip through the night, unnoticed. Until now.

  The boy barely came up to his waist. Poorly dressed, his shoes were falling off his feet and he had holes in his filthy trousers. His face was covered in so much dirt, that his eyebrows were barely visible, but the whites of his eyes shone clear, if laced with red threads. His hand reached out and touched Calin’s.

  “Please, sir. Any change?” he pleaded, looking at him with those bloodshot eyes.

  Suddenly, the warmth of the boy was flooding into him, becoming a heat that threatened to consume him. And a desire was sweeping over him, the promise of gratification now becoming his central thought.

  The boy looked nervous and moved away and the connection snapped, leaving only a chill running down Calin’s spine.

  “Wait, stay here,” he called and, without even having to think about it, he was right back alongside the boy, grabbing him by his wrists, desperate to feel that same flood of warmth again.

  The boy’s pulse was strong, pounding the rhythm of his heartbeat, as fresh, warm blood pumped through his veins. The smell, the taste. It would be just like the girl’s, that first time, Calin thought. He shook the image from his mind. He hadn’t been prepared then. He hadn’t known what he was capable of. This would be different. This time he would be in control. His mouth was watering, his jaw aching to strike. What he wouldn’t give for another taste of warm blood. Just one small taste.

  Shaking his head again, he lowered himself down to the boy’s height and locked his eyes on him.

  “Run!” he hissed.

  The boy didn’t need telling twice. Pinning himself against the wall, Calin watched as the child raced away, only looking over his shoulder once, to make sure he wasn’t being followed.

  What was he doing? he asked himself, as he stood there, dizzy and breathless, reeling from an event that hadn’t even happened. He had managed to stop himself. The boy was safe. But how many others would still be at risk? His mind went immediately to Ruth. Could he hurt her? Of course not. The thought was beyond preposterous. If anything, she would be the one to help him stop all those cravings. Which was why getting to her was the only thing that mattered. As he thought of her, he was suddenly transported to one of their last nights together, in London, before he had left for war.

  “We should wait. Don’t you think we should wait?”

  “No.” He slipped his hands around her waist. “I don’t think we should. I think we should get married now. Right now.”

  “It’s the middle of the night?”

  “I know. Let’s go to the church. The priest will be up, won’t he? I’m sure they don’t sleep.”

  “Calin, stop it.” Laughing she grabbed him by the hand and pulled him to her. His lips fell against hers, a little clumsier than he had intended, and yet she held him steady there. Under the sulphur-yellow glow of a street lamp, he brushed his hand against her cheek, drinking in the texture of her skin, the shine in her eyes. She thought he was being ridiculous, that the exhilaration of enlisting had somehow made him reckless, as it had with so many men. But it wasn’t the case. He had been waiting for this day from long before the war had even been rumoured.

  “If we don’t do it now, then we’ll have to wait until I get back, and I don’t want that. I don’t want to have to wait another day, yet alone another year until I can be your husband. I want it to be right now.”

  “You’re not thinking straight.”

  “Of course I am. You can find a house while I’m gone. A home for us. Fix up the rooms just how you like. Paint the front door yellow.”

  “Yellow?”

  He dipped his chin, placing his lips on her face and tracing a line down her neck.

  “Calin, you’re drunk and you’re being ridiculous.”

  Peeling his lips away from her skin, he pushed himself back until he was at arms’ length, and gazed into her eyes. Her pupils were like the blackest of pearls, sparkling in the lamp light.

  “Ruth Elspeth Allen, I have loved you since we were fourteen years old. You are the only girl I have ever kissed and I never plan on changing that. When I get back from t
his war, I don’t want to find my girlfriend waiting for me. I want to be with my wife. In the house she has found for us while I was away, with the door she has painted yellow, like the sun, so I never need to struggle to find her on nights when the street lights go out. You are my wife, Ruth, in my heart of hearts. You are the only woman who I will ever love. Please, let me prove this to you. Please. Marry me.”

  And then, to prove that it wasn’t the enlisting, or the drink, or even the moonlight that was prompting him, he went down on one knee and held out the ring he had bought over a month earlier.

  “So, will you make me the happiest man on the planet, for the rest of my life?”

  That smile. How one single smile could light up a room like that was impossible to believe until you saw it. Her eyes alone were enough to make him feel transported with pure ecstasy.

  He returned to the moment. Standing there that night, she had made him feel he was never going to be alone again. Not for the rest of his life. But his life had ended.

  He immediately knew which house it was. The paint on the door was peeling in thick, dark curls, doubtless fire damage, judging by the state of nearby buildings. But flecks of the bright yellow still remained evident. But, even without this, he would have known. If someone had asked him what Ruth smelt like when he was human, he would have come up with some trite answer like fresh bread, or honeysuckle. Now, he knew how wrong he had been. How much more there was to her. The aroma of her hair, her lips, her clothes. Hints of peppermint and lavender combined with undertones of soap and charcoal. Every exquisite facet of her, which mingled together to make that single, perfect scent. That was Ruth. And now he was standing only feet away from her.

  Watching her silhouette through the glass of the door, he thought about the last time he had seen her. She hadn’t gone to the station to wave him off, like so many of the men’s sweethearts. Their love wasn’t new. They didn’t need big declarations or promises. He knew that she would be waiting when he returned. That last night before he’d left, when they had only been married six weeks, had been their big farewell.

  They were staying at her sister’s house, and she had given them as much privacy as she could, spending time at her in-laws. Her own husband had shipped off four weeks previously, and Calin and Ruth had moved into her spare room, while they waited for a place of their own. That was what they had said, at least. In truth, it was to keep her company, one of the kindest gestures they could have offered.

  On that last night, he had one goal in mind: to memorise every last inch of her body. She had bought a new nightdress—white, satin, the thin straps tracing a line down from her collarbone, lifting up away from the flesh just before her breasts. The blinds were drawn and a small candle caused shadows to dance on the walls around them. He followed down the line of one strap with a finger, curving back up the other side, and brushing the skin under her cheek. All the time their eyes remained locked, as his heart pounded in his chest. He moved his hand down towards her legs. Her lips parted in anticipation. A small gasp left her mouth. In one sweep he pulled the garment over her head. First his hand went to her hips, tracing an arc between one side and the other. He then used the back of his hand to mark out each one of her curves. A light freckle showed just below her belly button. With his heart still pounding, he brought his lips to it and pressed them gently there. He responded to every move of her body, every moan that escaped from her. He caressed her shoulders, the backs of her arms, her knuckles, her ankles. He needed to feel every single inch of her skin beneath his lips. And, with each touch, the urgency grew. By the time he had returned to her lips, he was breathless and his body was aching, needing hers in every way possible.

  “You’ll come back to me, won’t you?” she asked, holding his face between her hands. “You promise you’ll come back?”

  “This,” he said, cupping her chin. “You. You are what I will be fighting for every single day.”

  She was still sleeping when he had left, the candle extinguished in a pool of wax. There was no need to wake her. No need for any more pain. They would soon be together again. That was what he had thought.

  Now he was finally back.

  7

  His mind focused on her warmth, he moved out from the shadows and over towards the door. With his long fingernail, he chipped off a piece of the curling, yellow paint, which fluttered downwards, only to be picked up by the breeze and spun off onto a different course.

  Holding his breath, he placed his hand against the wood. He shouldn’t go any further. He knew he shouldn’t. How could he hold her? How could she find comfort in a body now as cold and hard as stone? Coming back had been a mistake. Pain now consuming him, he turned around to leave. He had only gone a few steps from the door, when the click of the lock sounded in the night air.

  “Calin?”

  His name on her lips was like oxygen to a drowning man. He kept his back to her. He was still in the shadows. He should keep walking and disappear into the night. And yet, even as he thought this, he knew he couldn’t. Every day since he’d left, every moment spent fighting and then in Polidori’s house, had been leading up to this moment.

  He turned around and stepped into the yellow glow of the street light.

  “I’m here, Ruth,” he said. “I’m here.”

  The lamps were spluttering on and off. Silence surrounded them. Seconds passed. He could hear her breathing, her heart pounding. She finally spoke, her voice cracking.

  “Calin? I don’t understand. Is that really you?”

  “It is.”

  He took another step forward. One more, and he would be able to touch her, hold her in his arms. Every fibre in his body yearned to take that step, but the sweet smell of her was already causing him to lose his vision. If he got any closer, he might not be able to stop himself.

  “Calin.” She went to move towards him.

  His stomach lurched. “Stay where you are!” he ordered, the harsh timbre of his voice resonating in the air. He saw shock and pain and fear register on her face. Fighting the urges coursing through him, he softened his tone. “Please, please don’t come closer. It’s not safe.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Please. Just trust me.”

  She nodded and took a small step backwards. “They told me you were dead.”

  “I know.”

  “So what’s happening? Are you really here?”

  He slowly nodded once. Her heartbeat, which had begun to steady, suddenly quickened with a rush of adrenaline. She staggered forwards and, for a second, he thought she was going to faint, but she caught her hands on her knees and managed to stay upright. His intellect and his instincts were in conflict, as he fought the urge to go to her. Of all the battles he’d taken part in, never had one been like this. How was he meant to do this? How could he just watch her suffer? Five words were all that he could manage.

  “I am not the same,” he said.

  “Few men are,” she replied. “Few of us women, either.”

  “This is different.”

  “I can see that.”

  His heart ached. How did she make everything seem so simple, so straight forward?

  “Would you like to come inside?”

  “I don’t think I can.”

  Nodding, she lowered her eyes to the hem of her cardigan, where her slender hands fiddled with the frayed edges. Her fingers were thinner and the skin around her knuckles was cracked. He could feel the hurt and confusion radiating from her and, at that moment, all he wanted to do was to take her hands in his and kiss every single part of them.

  “Well, maybe for just a minute,” he said.

  He followed her into the house, a shiver running down his spine. After so many weeks at Polidori’s it was smaller than he could have imagined. The closeness of the walls amplified the sounds and aromas within it.

  She moved through the hallway and into the front room. While she took a seat on the sofa, Calin headed straight for the fire.

  “May
I?” he asked, indicating the pile of logs beside it. The flames were still strong, but if she were to reach out and touch him, he first needed to get all the warmth that he could.

  “Of course.”

  He stoked up the fire, using the bellows to intensify the heat. All the while, he could feel her eyes boring into him. Coming inside had been a mistake, he told himself. Even coming to this road had been wrong. He couldn’t leave now, but he could still find no words to offer her that didn’t feel like a betrayal. Only when the blaze was so intense that he risked turning around to face her, did she speak again.

  “Will you tell me?” she asked.

  “Tell you what?”

  “All of it. Everything.”

  His stomach tightened. “There’s a hell of a lot.”

  “So, start with where you have been these last few months, since the war ended?” Her voice was matter-of-fact. Not cold, but analytical. No hysterics, which most men would have expected, had their wives just learned they were back from the dead. And no one was deader than him. But this was Ruth’s style. She needed all the facts before she made a judgement.

  “I’ve been here, in London,” he answered.

  A flicker of sadness crossed her face.

  “Where? With someone from the army? With a friend?”

  He nodded.

  “A woman?”

  “Not as you would think.”

  She pressed her lips together. If she had shouted at him, blamed him for not coming straight back to her, that would at least have given him something to react to. Instead, all he could do was wait.

  “Were you afraid of something?” she finally asked. “Afraid of something that could hurt me? Afraid that you would hurt me?”

  He snorted. “I am terrified of hurting you,” he said.

  She nodded silently, as tears tumbled down her cheeks. “I have seen it with some of the men who have returned. The things you have had to endure. It’s no wonder.”