Forrest Wollinsky: Vampire Hunter [Book 2]: Blood Mists of London

by Leonard D. Hilley II

  “How dare you!” she snarled and lunged toward him.

  I stepped between them, still frowning at him. “You don’t mean that. Tell me what’s the tension between you two?”

  “It’s a long story,” Jacques replied, “And not one we can discuss in public.”

  “Agreed,” Matilda said, seething.

  Father looked at both of them and laughed. “Looks like a lover’s spat.”

  Both Jacques and Matilda turned their anger toward him.

  “It would appear that you called it correctly, Father. Come on, you two. We need to find a place that’s not out in the open so you can sort this out.”

  “There’s nothing to sort out,” Jacques said.

  “Apparently there is,” I replied. “Your anger toward one another is too passionate for your hostilities to not be something more personal and deeper.”

  “This isn’t an issue that concerns you, Forrest, especially since you have no experience in such matters.”

  “It does if we plan to stop the murderer.”

  “Our situation has nothing to do with that,” he replied.

  “Anything that deviates us from our focused goal places me and my father’s safety into jeopardy. Distractions can be deadly. That’s advice you and Dominus both have given me. Remember? So let’s find a place to stay for the night. I’m tired of lugging this heavy box around. Besides, it seems to draw people’s attention to me, and right now, that’s an extra aggravation we don’t need.”

  The soured angry expression didn’t fade from his face, but he followed me without so much as giving Matilda the slightest side-glance or acknowledgment.

  Father suggested that we find a place to lodge near the dining house where we had eaten earlier in the day. I agreed. The rates would be higher, but our accommodations would be worth the extra money. The downside was having a longer distance to travel through the dark streets.

  After we found a decent room, we all entered.

  Matilda seated herself at a small window that overlooked the street. She folded her hands on her lap. Her fierce anger had subsided. Sadness tugged at the edge of her eyes, and she refused to look in our direction.

  Jacques placed his top hat on the small desk, crossed his arms, and stared toward a corner. I half expected wallpaper to peel from the walls. The tension between them was thick. Chill bumps rose on my arms as their emotions flared at one another without any spoken words. I had never felt the battle of intense energy lashing between two individuals before. Sure, energy had been flung toward me many times, but I had never been caught in the center of a conduit like this, between two people that had once been lovers and were now enemies.

  Father sat on the edge of a bed and sighed. He and Momma had been at odds several times. I supposed all couples eventually came to crossroads of indifference, at which time they had a decision to make. Either mend the division and continue down the same path in life, or part ways, which sometimes weighted each with regret and resentment.

  The look on Father’s face detailed memories of such times he and Momma had struggled similarly, and from the hurt in his eyes, I sensed that he missed it.

  “Well?” I asked, gazing at the back of Jacques’ head. “You two going to come to terms or what?”

  He didn’t reply, nor did he turn to face me. He simply shook his head. His insistence to come to London had been for different reasons. At least, that was what he had told Father and I. But now, I wondered if he had secretly hoped to happen across Matilda to correct past wrongs.

  Still eight years of age, I acted the diplomat. “Look, it’s obvious to me and Father that the two of you have a past with each other. What happened to cause this rift between you?”

  Jacques released a long sigh. A moment later, he slid his hands into his jacket pockets. “It’s because of what we are.”

  “You’re a werewolf and she’s a witch. What more am I missing?”

  “I’m a werewolf, too,” Matilda said. Tears trailed down her face.

  “Shouldn’t that be a good thing?” I asked. “Kindred spirits?”

  “I wasn’t one until after I met him,” she replied.

  “I see. What happened Jacques? Did you not tell her beforehand?” I asked.

  “She knew,” Jacques said softly. “And I was aware that she’s a witch. That’s what brought us together in the first place. She promised that she could remove my curse, but instead, she became cursed.”

  “Because you bit me!”

  Jacques jaw tightened. “I insisted that you chain me while you performed the incantation. You refused. I changed before you were able to finish the spell, and you didn’t plan an escape route ahead of time. I didn’t have control over my beast then and charged after you.”

  “So you weren’t lovers?” Father asked.

  “Not after that night,” Matilda said with anger in her voice.

  Jacques sighed, looked into her angered eyes, and softened to his remorse. “It wasn’t entirely my fault, but I do regret that you became what I am. I’d never wish this curse upon anyone.”

  She turned. Her brow furrowed. “I regret that we parted ways. The first few months were difficult . . . adjustments.”

  “I offered to stay. To help you during the transformations. But you insisted that I leave.”

  Matilda approached and stood toe-to-toe with him. “Do you still wear it?”

  Jacques took the chain around his neck and tugged it upward, revealing his silver-colored medallion. “I do.”

  She revealed hers.

  “You both have one?” I asked.

  Jacques nodded. “She made them.”

  I glanced at Father. “I thought an alchemist made it for him?”

  “That’s what Jacques had told me.”

  Jacques grinned. “It’s a less complicated tale.”

  I gave him a curious stare. “I suppose it is. Matilda, how is it that you could craft a medallion to restrain your beasts but you failed to remove the curse before he attacked you?”

  “The spell given to me was inaccurate. It didn’t work, but we risked the ritual because there isn’t a known spell to purge the beast that rages inside. It is exactly as described: a curse.”

  “Nothing can eliminate it?” I asked.

  Tears welled in her eyes. “No. Believe me, if there was, I’d have used it on myself before now. My failure to drive his beast out caused him to hold bitterness toward me ever since. That’s more painful to me than my early transformations into wolf form.”

  I glanced toward Jacques with harsh disappointment in my gaze. I didn’t have to voice my opinion. He read it in my gestures.

  “I didn’t leave you due to bitterness,” he said. “I left because of my guilt for biting you. For cursing you when you had tried to heal me.”

  “I’ve missed you. Our talks,” she said, reaching a hand toward his.

  Jacques smiled, took her hand, and gently pulled her closer, kissing her forehead. A tear spilled and ran down her cheek. He wiped it away with his thumb.

  “I thought when you left that you were gone forever,” Matilda said.

  “I’m here now. I’ve thought about you, us, for many years. And after Forrest’s—” He choked back tears. “After a dear friend died, I knew I needed to make things right between us while we were both alive. I gambled by coming back to London since the banishment had come into law, but I didn’t think I’d find you. I’m surprised you’re remained in this city.”

  “It hasn’t been easy staying,” she replied. “I have few friends, simply because of what I am. In the eyes of the law, I’m twice cursed being a witch and a werewolf.”

  “When I leave,” Jacques said, embracing her. “You shall come with me. We’ll find a safer place to reside.”

  She pressed the side of her face against his chest. The radiant smile on her face increased her beauty, erasing the drab appearance she had displayed in the pub. “I’d like that very much.”

  I waited until what I thought was the prope
r moment. “Now, should we return to the streets to see if we can find this vampire?”

  Father stood and winked at me. “Son, I think it’s best that we give them some . . . time alone. They need to catch up. One day, you’ll understand.”

  I set my box onto the desk, opened it, and grabbed a bottle of holy water, a cross, and a vial of crushed garlic. Keeping these in my coat was much easier than toting the heavy box. I walked to the door with Father and turned to regard them.

  Matilda took Jacques hand and faced me. “We’ll meet you at the pub where you first saw me.”

  I nodded. “Very well.”

  Jacques smiled. “We can plot our route for the night then.”

  Father walked through the door. I followed and pulled it closed.

  “Come on, boy. No loitering around the door. I don’t care how big you are. You’re still a child to me. Let’s go.”

  I chuckled, but held my peace and followed. I was young, yes, but due to my evolving mind, I had a slight idea what type of catching up they needed to do.

  Love was indeed strange and complicated.

  Chapter Eight

  Nightfall came.

  Our patrols along the streets proved fruitless. We found no evidence of the murderous stalker hiding in the shadows. The worst part was not seeing the hidden women on the streets, but being aware of their presence in the darkness. They hid in the shadows, awaiting the arrival of shipmen and half drunken men in hopes of obtaining money for favorable pleasures. Occasionally, one called out to me in my passing, but at Father’s prior stern warning, he insisted I not engage in conversation with any of them.

  Perhaps they had not read the daily post and realized the brutal murder from the night before? Perhaps they knew and didn’t care. Some people were willing to face death in times of desperation, hoping to gain enough money to satiate their thirst for alcohol or somewhere to stay the night off the street.

  Unlike the night before, the thick layers of dense fog that had concealed the evil reaper were absent. The air was cold for a summer’s night, which might have been enough deterrent for most people to stay indoors. I imagined a lot of folks were more worried about encountering the murderer than anything else and were too reluctant to stay inside the pubs late into the night. Regardless of their reasons, we encountered few people and returned to our room a few hours before sunrise.

  Jacques and Matilda seemed inseparable. In the short amount of time I’d known my cousin, I’d never seen him maintain a broad smile. His eyes were brighter, and he was jovial and at ease. He laughed heartily when she told him about the bizarre things that had occurred in London soon after he had left. Things, which to Father and I, weren’t humorous at all. She, in turn, did the same whenever he spoke. I glanced toward my father and all he offered was an odd grin. So, I supposed acting slightly ridiculous was part of love. Needless to say, I found a corner in the room and wrapped a blanket over myself and slept until midmorning. Father finally aroused me.

  “Let’s go get coffee,” he said, eagerly with a broad smile. His eyes weren’t bloodshot like the days before. They were bright, full of life and vigor.

  I rubbed my eyes, shook my head, and sat up on the hardwood floor. My back was slightly sore, but I returned his smile because I realized he had gone a full day without drinking. Looking around, Jacques and Matilda were already gone.

  After putting on my heavy boots, I grabbed my hat and overcoat. The question in my gaze seemed obvious.

  “Those two lovebirds have already departed. Said for us to meet them for coffee,” Father said.

  I remained silent as we left the room and locked the door. For some odd reason I found myself thinking about Rose and ached inside. As hard as I might try, I couldn’t deny that what I felt inside for her was love. But I feared what came with such commitment. The dangers I placed her life in. Our future, if any, and if we had children, the worry I’d forever have in keeping them safe from the vampires. After all, as a Chosen Hunter, called by some bearer of Holy Light, I had the ability to find the dark undead demons of the night, the vampires. They in turn could sense my presence and if they chose, they could come after me. Or worse, they’d target those I loved the most. What better way to inflict torment on a Hunter?

  I grieved inside. That’s why I cannot give myself to you, Rose. As much as I long to, I cannot.

  Father glanced at me with a furrowed brow. “What is it, son?”

  I shook my head. “Nothing.”

  “Rose?”

  I swallowed hard. “How’d you know?”

  He grinned. “One cannot hide the feeling of true love.”

  “At this point, Father, I cannot say that it’s true love.”

  “It’s been months, and she’s not faded from your heart and mind. No other terms define that kind of binding power.”

  “Perhaps,” I said. “But I cannot risk that kind of pain.”

  “Love hurts. I know. I’ve lived with it, and I grieve now due to its absence. But Forrest, there’s no greater power on this Earth. No better feeling inside than being near the person who holds your heart.”

  For some odd reason, I pictured Rose dying at the hands of a vampire. Her heart being ripped from her chest. I cringed. “While that may be, the risk it imposes isn’t for me, but her for what I am and because of those I have been called to kill.”

  “Your calling doesn’t mean you have to spend your life alone.”

  I sighed and headed down the stairs to the lobby. “I’m not alone. I have you.”

  He chuckled. “It’s not the same thing, and it probably won’t be long before you tire of wandering the mountains and cities hunting for the undead with your old man. In fact, you’ll grow to despise it.”

  “Today with you is already much better than the days before. How are you feeling?”

  “Much better, but I still have that demon to wrestle. Probably on a nightly basis.”

  “I’ll help you,” I replied.

  “I appreciate that. But son, you’re not changing the subject so easily. You could live a thousand years killing vampires, but if you’ve not opened your heart to the love of a good woman, your whole life would have been in vain. And children. The love for a child. It’s different than for a spouse, but genuine and pure. Seeing them discover the things of nature with excitement in their eyes and broad smiles. You’ll—”

  “Age wise I am still a child, Father. I’m not ready for such responsibilities. I’m barely sorting through what being a Hunter is all about.”

  “I realize all of those things. I’m not asking you to plan for all this within the next few years. All I’m suggesting is that you don’t shut out the dearest things life has to offer.”

  I nodded. “I promise that I’ll keep this in mind. I do anyway.”

  “From the contorted expressions on your face, I’d say that you’re attempting to sear the thoughts away, more than consider them.”

  “I’ll admit that I’m torn. But, I’m still young. In time, if the time’s ever right, I’ll make those decisions, but never before I’m comfortable in what I’m doing as a Hunter and know beyond any doubt that I’m able to protect my family from the undead.”

  Father clasped my shoulder and squeezed.

  The dining room was empty. “Where are they?”

  “Jacques wanted us to meet them where we eat yesterday. He’s hoping that Constable Shields will be there.”

  “Why?”

  “To get to the heart of the murder, if we can.”

  “You think the constable will offer information so readily?”

  Father shrugged. “How can we know unless we ask?”

  “I suppose that’s true.”

  At the receptionist’s desk, I paid for another night so we didn’t need to deal with it later in the day. Near the sign-in pad was the morning’s post. The headlines didn’t report another murder overnight. At least none had been discovered. I was partly relieved and partially stressed, wondering where this killer had gone. The bigges
t reason for my underlying fear was that an active vampire needed to feed. Nightly. Had he become more secretive? Polly’s murder had been bold and out in the open, as though he made certain her body was found. Perhaps it could have been sheer carelessness on his part, or his hunger was too great for him to contain, but I wondered if it were more?

  Of course, all of this was speculation on my part, as I was still a novice, but since the ports of London brought in shipments from its worldwide colonies, it stood possible that this vampire had arrived aboard a ship. Polly might have been his first victim upon his arrival. But someone else must have died overnight, and if so, where had he hidden the body?

  Father and I arrived at the dining house. We hung our hats and coats near the door and a waiter seated us with Jacques and Matilda. Before we had joined them, I studied them momentarily. They were enthralled with one another, encapsulated in each other’s gaze. They completely ignored their food. A part of me hated to intrude, but we did have a greater issue at hand.

  A waiter came for our orders and departed with perfect, proper posture.

  “How’s the food?” I teased.

  They stared down at their untouched plates and both blushed.

  “I take it not as good as the conversation?” I smiled broadly.

  “One day you’ll understand,” Jacques said evenly.

  “I keep hearing that response. I’ll await the actual enlightenment.”

  The waiter brought my father and I cups of coffee on small saucers, setting them before us. I causally sipped mine and playfully allowed my eyes to glance back and forth between them, much to their annoyance and like the eight-year-old inside insisted for me to do.

  Jacques leaned toward me and harshly whispered. “Forrest, how any higher power would usher a child into the Chosen few is beyond me, but now is not the time to act like the youth you are.”

  I frowned. “Oh?”

  The door opened, ringing the bell attached it. I turned to see Constable Shields entering. I nodded. “My apologies, cousin. It’s just that I’ve never seen a grown man blush before.”

  “Believe me, you’ll have plenty of blushing moments yourself,” he replied.