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

by Leonard D. Hilley II

  “The same.”

  “Let’s kill him,” I said sternly.

  I took a step forward, and Jacques placed a firm hand against my chest.

  “Wait.”

  “Why?”

  “His interest is directed at you. He wants you to attack first.”

  “So?”

  Jacques whispered at such a low tone it was difficult for me to hear standing beside him. “Must I spell it out for you? He senses you’re a Hunter. I’m not certain if he’s able to discern how old you are, but if he knows you’re a novice, he will rip your throat out, ending you first.”

  My jaw tightened.

  “Don’t get angered by the truth,” Jacques said. “The darkness is his domain. He has the advantage over you. Now, Matilda and I on the other hand are one with the night like he is.”

  The chain around Jacques neck snapped. He shoved the medallion into his pocket. After that, he rushed ahead into the darkness. A ball of light appeared on the other side of the street. Matilda held the light in her hands and flung it toward the vampire. The light followed Jacques and grew even brighter the closer it came to the vampire.

  The vampire shrieked, lifting his cape to shield his face from the blinding light. Jacques struck the vampire dead center with both fists and flung the vampire backwards.

  The radiant ball of light domed over the vampire, preventing him from uncovering his face. A second later, Jacques reared back his head and howled.

  He was transforming, snarling and gnashing his teeth. Almost on cue, Matilda began changing into her wolf form, too. The vampire hissed and growled beneath his black cape. His body writhed.

  The were-rats crept along the edge of the wall, wary of approaching him from the center of the street.

  The bright orb lit up the street almost a block in both directions. Its intense glare equated a direct glance into the sun, and for a few moments it seemed like it held this vampire captive. I wondered if this light burned a vampire’s flesh in the same way sunlight did.

  While Matilda and Jacques underwent their transformation, something moved outside the light’s radius. It grew and expanded. Rolling fog swirled out of nothing, building again into a wall like the night before last. Glancing the other direction, I noticed another wall rising behind us.

  The vampire flung open his cape, shattering the orb of light. He was on his feet in an instant, grabbed Jacques by the collar, and hurled him ten feet away.

  The were-rats’ growls rumbled as they ran through the sudden darkness toward the vampire. A sharp gasp of pain rose and died in an instant. The odd sound was a cross between human and rat. A slickening splatter on the cobblestone turned my stomach. At least one of the boys had been eviscerated.

  Matilda produced another ball of light. The vampire was hunched over the were-rat’s open chest. Blood dripped from his hands. His face was sinewy, strange, and revealed his true beastly nature. He was an animal, holding what could only be a heart. The other four were-rats backed away, lowered on all fours, seemingly debating another attack.

  Jacques sprinted at him, bringing his cane overhead and slashing downward. He struck the vampire in the back. The vampire snarled in pain, rolled, and grabbed the silver cane. Due to the quick roll and Jacques holding the cane tightly, the vampire swung Jacques over him, slamming Jacques against the brick wall.

  Father limped along the walkway with a stake in hand. Matilda held the ball of light. The vampire stared down at Jacques limp form with a victorious grin on his face. He turned toward the two were-rats nearest him. Lunging partway toward them, his hard-soled shoes clacked. The rat boys sprang back with timidity. The vampire bellowed a deep laugh.

  The four boys stared at their torn bloody brother. His mouth was open in the shape of his last cry of terrified pain. His wide eyes revealed his unexpected death. His long serpentine tail twitched back and forth like a dying snake.

  The vampire pulled a long sharp knife from the end of his cane. It looked like a butcher’s knife. He turned toward Jacques again. Without thought or hesitation, I ran with both stakes in hand. He must have heard my approach, expected it, or he was baiting my attack because he was gone before I could plunge a stake into his back.

  “Behind you, Forrest!” my father shouted.

  At this point, getting a stake through the heart wasn’t necessarily the easiest strike. He was faster than any vampire I had ever fought. With our numbers, we might have to inflict numerous wounds to weaken him because he was too fast to corner. Hunting vampires during the day was safer and easier, provided one knew where the vampire’s lair was. With this vampire new to the area, I doubted he stayed at the same place each night. I had no proof but it was my best assumption. Since we didn’t know, the only way we even had a chance to kill him was when he was prowling the streets searching for his next victim.

  I turned. His long sharp blade sliced through the air, slashing into the arm of my thick overcoat. The cloth of my sleeve peeled away. A line of heated pain on my biceps dripped blood. Before he drew back the blade a second time, I hammered my thick fist into his mouth. Teeth cracked, as did bone in his nose.

  He might be fast, but I was twice his size and succeeded in landing a powerful punch. He winced and the blow staggered him. In his attempt to prevent falling, he lowered the knife to his side.

  Two of the were-rats lunged toward the vampire’s legs. They sank their gnarled sharp teeth into his thighs. He growled like a mad animal, grabbed them both by the back of the neck, and yanked them into the air. Blood dripped from their mouths. The vampire’s blood. He stared momentarily at them. Pure hatred loomed in his eyes. In a fluid like movement, he smashed their heads together, dropping them onto the street.

  Matilda hurled the ball of light at him. He dodged to one side and my father plunged a stake into the vampire’s shoulder. He backhanded Father with such force, my father was lifted into the air and crashed onto a stack of wooden crates tradesmen used during the day. The other two were-rats snarled. Their long claws lengthened.

  The vampire reached for the stake driven into his shoulder, noticed my approach, and the two stakes in my hands. He turned slightly, to keep an eye on me while watching the other two were-rats stalking toward him.

  Blood trickled from his mouth and nose. Huge bite marks on his thighs leaked blood as well. He tipped his hat toward me and grinned before darting into the congealing wall of fog.

  I kept a stake in each hand, watching the fog wall, and waiting to see if he reemerged.

  Matilda hurried to Jacques.

  “Is he okay?” I asked.

  She nodded. “He’s breathing. His eyes are opening.”

  The two unconscious were-rats awakened and pulled themselves to all fours. The other two helped them up.

  I backed my way toward Father without shifting my gaze from the fog. He groaned and reached for me. I grabbed his hand and hefted him to his feet.

  Jacques pushed himself up and stood. Anger flared his nostrils and burned in his eyes. “He’s gone?”

  I nodded.

  “Damn,” he said, gritting his teeth. He took a step toward the fog. I pressed my hand against his hairy chest and Matilda wrapped her arms around his waist. They both stood in werewolf form.

  Whistles blew and echoed from the other wall of fog. “You two best hide until you return to human form. The constables are on their way. I don’t know how to explain all this.”

  Jacques panted through his mouth, glancing around. “What exactly?”

  “The dead were-ra—” The four boys and their dead brother were gone. The pool of blood, however, remained.

  “Perhaps we all should hide,” Jacques suggested, grabbing his clothes while Matilda gathered hers.

  The two walls of fog slowly moved toward one another. Soon they’d merge and swallow the entire street.

  “Good idea,” I said.

  Matilda shone the ball of light toward the narrow alley. We found a metal door at the edge of the street, yanked it up, and descende
d underground. Once we pulled the door into place, Matilda extinguished the light.

  Chapter Eleven

  Using the underground passageways, we emerged near the inn where we were to lodge for the night. Inside our room, we inspected our injuries. None of us was seriously wounded. The cut across my biceps was superficial and had not bled much.

  Jacques fumed with anger. No coaxing from Matilda lessened it. He sought immediate vengeance. Being bested twice by the same vampire wrought his fury and determination to find and kill it.

  I worried about how Albert would take the death of his son. I was certain his anger outweighed Jacques. I wondered why Albert hadn’t come to the surface to aid us in the battle. He had implied that this vampire feared him, but the vampire had ripped one of the boy’s insides out of his body without hesitation or any fear of possible retaliation.

  “We had him,” Jacques said, slamming his palm on the top of the desk. His hands formed tight fists, and he glanced at me. “I warned you not to get sloppy, but I didn’t even heed my own advice. Twice he’s rendered me unconscious.”

  “We’ll find him,” I said.

  “But there were nine of us, Forrest,” Jacques said, gritting his teeth. “Nine! And he still slipped away.”

  “With some injuries,” I added.

  “What injuries?”

  “Father stabbed a stake deep into its shoulder,” I replied.

  “I tried for the heart, son. He was too damn fast, and I’m no longer agile.”

  I nodded. “I know. I cracked some of his teeth and shattered his nose. Two of the rat boys tore hunks out of his thighs with their teeth.”

  “Phht,” Jacques said, waving us off. “Superficial wounds at best. He’ll heal and kill again.”

  “He’s leery of us now.”

  “You really think so, Forrest? A couple of you managed to draw some blood and you believe he’s worried about us?”

  “I do. He fled. Two of the boys were coming up behind him. I had two stakes and was ready to attack. He read my intent. That’s why he fled.”

  Jacques frowned and shook his head. “Is this a game to you?”

  “It seems to be a game to him,” I replied. “You said so before you attacked him.”

  Father frowned and stared at Jacques. “You told Forrest that?”

  Jacques shrugged. “The vampire boasted great arrogance and wanted us to challenge him. He particularly wanted to fight Forrest.”

  I grinned. “And he ran away from me.”

  “Be careful,” Jacques said. “That might be his ploy. To make you think he’s afraid of you. You let down your guard, and he’s going to kill you. Make no mistake about that. You saw what he did to me?”

  I nodded.

  “I’ve fought a lot of vampires but I’ve never dealt with one like this before. He’s faster than I am. That’s his greatest strength.”

  “He brought back the fog,” I said.

  “Vampires have some control over weather elements,” Matilda said.

  “I thought the glowing orb was a good spell.”

  She smiled at me. “Thank you. But he dissolved it, which means he’s an older vampire and quite strong. A young vampire would have become too vulnerable to escape from the light. Regardless of his age, had my blinding light touched his flesh, he’d have experienced the same pain as being caught outside in the sunlight.”

  “Is he a master?” I asked Jacques.

  “Possibly,” he replied. “He might even be an ancient. But his lesser vampires are not with him.”

  “You’re certain?”

  He nodded. “If they were, he’d have them fighting for him.”

  “It makes no sense why he’d travel to London without them. Does it?” I asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

  “It’s rare but not unheard of,” Jacques replied.

  “What might prompt a master to make such a decision?”

  “War.”

  “War?”

  Jacques nodded. “Most master vampires have their lairs hidden deep inside fortresses or castles. Should the place be destroyed, they scour the countries until they find a new residence. But, they also look for a place where no other masters reside since they are territorial. There’s also the possibility that all his children have been killed, and he’s been forced into hiding or government officials think he died with his offspring.”

  Someone knocked at the door. Hard. We exchanged concerned glances.

  Father opened the door. Constable Shields stepped across the threshold and removed his hat and adjusted his glasses. He promptly closed the door with a solid thud. In his hand he held Jacques’ silver cane. Jacques cursed under his breath and shook his head, angry with himself.

  Shields narrowed his skeptical eyes, strode across the room, and handed the cane to Jacques. “Strange how this cane keeps turning up in the most unusual places. This was found at another crime scene tonight. If we can even call it a crime scene, being as all we’ve found so far are blood splotches and a pool of blood. We can gather more information after sunrise. I know the lot of you have offered your services in this investigation, but right now, Jacques, you’re close to becoming my chief suspect! You mind telling me what happened there?”

  Jacques sat on the edge of the bed beside me. “We encountered him again.”

  Shields’ eyes flicked toward mine. I nodded. He noticed my sliced open shirtsleeve and the dried blood on my laceration. “He did that?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You actually saw him this time in the dark?”

  “We had a . . . lantern,” I replied.

  “Good. So you can describe this man?” Shields asked.

  Jacques gave him a thorough description. Shields jotted it down on a pad of paper.

  “Did you get a hint of his accent?” Shields asked. “So we can narrow down where he’s from?”

  “He never spoke,” I replied.

  “Not a word?”

  We shook our heads. Shields stared at Matilda with surprise. “You were with them, dear lady?”

  “I was,” she replied.

  Shields shook his head and opened his mouth to say something more to her but quickly refrained. He returned his attention to Jacques. “So if he never spoke, what makes you so certain he’s the one we’re after?”

  “Look at my arm,” I said. “He had a long sharp knife. One like a butcher uses. It sliced through my thick overcoat.”

  “He attacked all of you?”

  “That’s one way to describe it,” Jacques said. “He was out for blood.”

  Shields nodded. “Yes. There’s a large puddle of blood, but no body. Whose blood is it? His?”

  “No,” I replied.

  “Other than a few abrasions on the lot of you, you’re no worse for wear. I know that blood isn’t any of yours. Now, fess up.”

  “To be honest, sir,” I said, “we don’t know whose blood it is.”

  “I see. Yes. Hmm. No body. Lots of blood. And how did he get away?”

  “He ran into the fog,” Matilda said. “That’s how we lost him. Even a lantern is useless when the fog’s that thick.”

  “Indeed. It was quite thick, wasn’t it? Seemed to have come out of nowhere, from what the one detective told me. Are any of you in need of a doctor?”

  We shook our heads.

  “I suspected such, but I needed to ask anyway,” Shields said. He glanced at Jacques. “It’s best you keep better hold on that cane. I can’t keep finding it for you.”

  Jacques gave a wry smile. “Thanks for returning it, again.”

  “The good news is that we now have a better description of the man we’re looking for. The bad news is that he’s still out there somewhere stalking his next victim. Since he blatantly attacked all of you, I tend to believe your theory is correct. He will kill again. So, should you keep searching for him, and I honestly don’t suggest that you do, please be careful.”

  He reached for the doorknob and hesitated. Looking at Matilda, he said, �
�Miss, what ever persuaded you to take up with this gentlemen?”

  She smiled. “Jacques and I are old friends.”

  Shields’ brow rose. He glanced toward Jacques. “I see. I understand why you’d venture back to London. She’s worth the trip.”

  Jacques nodded.

  “Have you heard from the docks on whether any ship captains have reported lost crewmembers?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “Nothing yet. After tonight, I want to know that information as well. I might take a train later today and find out firsthand. Be safe.”

  Shields put his hat on and opened the door. Without another word, he walked out and pulled the door closed. A few minutes after he had left, another knock, softer, rapped at the door.

  I opened it. One of the rat boys stood before me in his human form. His eyes were red from tears. His lower lip trembled.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “Albert has requested your presence. All of you. He said that it’s urgent.”

  Chapter Twelve

  With the constables and detectives combing the streets while trying to figure out the mysterious pool of blood, it took us several hours to travel through the labyrinth of underground tunnels to find the route that led to Lord Albert’s throne room.

  His room was lit with rows of fire pits. He was clearly visible sitting on his stone throne. His chin rested upon his fist. Anger stirred in his eyes. I expected to see the dead were-rat on the floor, but the young rat boy sat with his back at Albert’s feet with his eyes closed. He appeared to be weak and meditating.

  “How?” I whispered to Jacques.

  “It’s difficult to kill a were-creature.”

  That explained why the vampire didn’t act concerned about gutting the boy. He knew the boy could heal. I couldn’t imagine the pain the boy had undergone when his entrails were ripped from his body, but I wondered how painful his healing process had been, too. Surely, it was painful when nerve endings reconnected and the body began mending. I shuddered.

  “Where did this vampire go?” Albert asked. His gruff voice echoed through the room.

  “We don’t know. He disappeared into the fog,” I replied.