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

by Leonard D. Hilley II

  “We should return to the workhouse tomorrow,” I said.

  “No, Forrest,” Jacques said. “I’ve warned you about becoming too arrogant. I understand you can’t help most of it because of your age. You’re so young and have this unbelievable gift . . . but you’re not invincible. I’d like to see you live another seventy years or so, but you won’t live to see your teens if you don’t learn to better evaluate the surrounding dangers. You were taunting a master vampire that has bested me twice.”

  “I know, but—”

  “No, understand, what he said was true. It doesn’t matter that he’s a vampire. He wasn’t lying to you. He could have killed me both times I had encountered him. He didn’t.”

  “But that doesn’t make him our ally,” I replied. “We cannot ignore what he is or what he has done.”

  “No, again, listen. He was powerful enough to thwart the nine of us when we had encountered him weeks ago.”

  “Five were children,” I said.

  “Six were children,” Jacques said with an intense glare. In spite of my size, his gaze peered into my adolescent mind and shook me. He put me in my place and rightly so.

  “Listen to your cousin,” Father said. “Arrogance is going to get you killed, Forrest. You’ll have wasted the gift given to you, not to mention, greatly disappoint the ones who have blessed you with it. That’s not the way to thank them.”

  Tears heated my eyes, and I was thankful we were in the darkness of an underground tunnel, heading to Albert’s lair. My rash behavior was not only endangering me, but everyone in our party. Being scolded like the inner child I was, wasn’t easy for me to swallow. But I couldn’t deny the truth.

  “Trenton was not anywhere near as strong as this master. Raginwulf wasn’t boasting about his might. I’m not certain that he’s an elder vampire, Forrest, but he’s at least a couple hundred years old,” Jacques said. “You’re no match for him. Trenton wasn’t either. At least he was attuned to understand that. That’s part of the reason Trenton sought your help. Continue to be reckless and you will find an early death, and . . . I don’t wish to witness that or ever receive such news.”

  “My apologies,” I said. I swallowed hard, trying to push the giant lump down my throat, but it wouldn’t budge. I fought not to let my voice crackle as I spoke. “I put all our lives at risk, and I didn’t realize that at the time. I promise to be more careful in the future.”

  “It’s easy to allow your passion to overpower rationality, Forrest,” Jacques said. “I hate to admonish you in front of the others—”

  “But it’s the best way,” Father said sternly. “It stings to be embarrassed while your peers are watching, and children tend to remember it longer.”

  I sighed. “You’re both right, and I appreciate you calling it to my attention.”

  “We won’t always be here to point it out,” Father said softly. “So grasp it early.”

  “Thanks, Father.”

  After walking through the tunnels for nearly a half hour, we came to Albert’s sconce-lit chambers. He was already seated with his head leaned back and his eyes closed. “So what are your plans now?”

  I glanced toward Jacques and shrugged. I decided to let Jacques take charge since I had been thinking prematurely about everything.

  “Not certain,” he replied.

  “I doubt Raginwulf will roam the streets tonight,” Albert said.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “He’ll need time to recover after he expended vital energy to take the form of a blood mist. Adding that to his injuries, he won’t venture far.”

  “Which means he will need to feed,” I said.

  “Feed, yes. Hunt, no. He will seek the first weak person to compel and feed from. He won’t prolong his time on the streets and alleys. He might suspect we’ll be looking for him.”

  I sat down on a large square block near a burning fire pit. “Can you explain something to me?”

  “What?” he asked.

  “What did Raginwulf mean that mankind wouldn’t be here without the aid of vampires? He directed the statement to you as though you know exactly what he’s talking about.”

  Albert’s tired eyes opened. “He’s correct.”

  “Tell me how?”

  “Vampires spared us from the Black Death several centuries ago. With over a fourth of the mortal human population dead from the plague, the vampires realized their source for survival was coming to an end. If all the humans died, eventually they’d cease to exist.”

  “Can’t vampires feed off livestock? Cattle? Horses?”

  “They could but most prefer human blood over draining livestock.”

  “Why?”

  “The challenge to compel or glamour mortals into obedience enlivens many vampires. For some, it’s the intimacy of enticing a beautiful male or female and partaking the human’s blood. The rush is more exciting than . . . shall I say amorous activities. And since most vampires rule over territories, how can they rule without humans?”

  “So how did they stop the plague?”

  Albert grinned. “They were the cure.”

  Jacques said, “How?”

  “Vampires have a unique healing agent in their blood, which can heal other humans when they consume it.”

  I frowned. “But won’t that turn them into vampires?”

  “Only if the person’s blood is drained until he dies. But for a mere mortal, drinking a vampire’s blood has other temporarily added effects. Not only does it heal a person of his ailments, but also it boosts his strength and all his senses. After a few days, the blood is completely out of his system, so if he died, he’d be a corpse and no one need fear he rise as a vampire.”

  “So the vampires fed the plagued victims their blood in order to heal them?” Matilda asked.

  Albert nodded. “They did it out of necessity. And the vampires compelled the people not to remember the act and returned to their positions of power. Like I said, they have a psychological need to rule, so they need the lower classes. Even though vampires are parasites, they have aided humans during extreme sicknesses for centuries.”

  “But it’s self-serving,” Jacques said.

  “I agree,” Albert said. “No doubt about that.”

  “Are you suggesting humans need the vampires?” I asked.

  “Not at all. But it’s doubtful, Forrest, that no matter how hard you try, you’ll never rid the world of these bloodthirsty beasts.”

  “Then why did he direct the question to you?” I asked.

  Albert folded his long fingers into a prayer-like manner. His eyes studied each of us for several moments while he thought. “Because I was alive when it happened.”

  We stared at him with stunned expressions.

  He smiled, apparently expecting our reaction. “It was before my curse. I was a human then.”

  “So you’re half a millennium old?” Jacques asked.

  “Fairly close.”

  “Then what caused the curse?”

  Albert lowered his hands into his lap. “I was a prisoner suffering from the plague. I was in its final stages, and death was imminent. All the prison cells had been opened. The guards who didn’t have the plague fled the prisons. Those of us who did, we didn’t have the strength to leave. Dozens died in their cells. I forced myself out of the prison. I wanted to see the sunlight once more before I died. But it was dead of night when I got outside. Vampires had besieged the city, trying to heal all who still breathed. Seemingly one found me, compelled me, and when I regained my senses I was healed.”

  “As a rat?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “No. I was human but since there weren’t any guards for those of us who had survived to place us back into our prison cells, I accepted the entire ordeal as a pardon and was ready to leave London forever.”

  Matilda studied him with keen interest. “And what stopped you?”

  “The witch who had accused me of my crime. Her lies were why I was jailed.”

  “What
was your crime?”

  “None. She accused me of being a witch.”

  “When she was the witch?” Matilda asked.

  Albert nodded. “Exactly. At trial when the judge asked what magic I had done, she made vivid accusations. When I protested that I could do no such thing, what she accused me of doing occurred before the judge and court. But it wasn’t me. She was the one who made it happen.”

  “Why would she go to such trouble to have you imprisoned?” Jacques asked.

  “She was my jilted lover. I knew what she was. I had witnessed her evil deeds. She had sworn to me that if I ever left her, she would make me suffer. When I escaped the prison, she was why I had sought to leave London altogether. But she found me before I got to the port and placed this curse upon me.” He smiled. “A few weeks later, she died from the plague. I suppose justice was served, even though her curse remains.”

  “Do you harbor bitterness toward witches?” Matilda asked.

  “My dear lady, no. Just like everywhere else, there are good and evil people in this world. Some witches practice to heal and aid the unfortunate with blessings during their times of need. But those with dark souls cast evil spells out of spite, pure selfishness, or unfounded vengeance. This is why the Gypsy witch must be stopped, too. I discern a long veil of darkness surrounding her. Not only must Raginwulf be stopped, she needs to be as well.”

  “And these boys?” I asked. “Your actual children?”

  “Adoptive,” Albert said. “They were outcast and unwanted because of how they were born. I have taken them as my own.”

  “Born this way?” Matilda asked.

  He nodded.

  “Why?” I stared at the five were-rats and back to Albert.

  “I don’t rightly know, Forrest. Why are you a Hunter? How can the unliving roam the Earth? So many situations occur in life that we’ll never find the answers to explain them. Either our knowledge cannot comprehend the reasoning or else it is not for us to question.”

  “When you heard of my mother’s death,” I said, “you said that such losses are known here.”

  “Yes,” Albert replied. “The boys’ mothers died during childbirth. Blood sickness was what the midwives had explained their deaths to be. The boys were sent to a cathedral, but I intercepted their arrival, taking them for my own to protect them from the priests.”

  “They’d harm them?” Matilda asked.

  Albert nodded. “In the process of excising the demons inside the boys, the priests would knowingly kill them. Their deaths would be recorded as successes, sparing them from everlasting Hell.”

  “They have demons?” I asked.

  “No. They were born with the same innocence as any child is. But priests attempt to explain away the unknown or altered as ungodly, thus ridding the world of what others view as unsightly to behold.” He glanced at Matilda. “Think to how the witch mania extended throughout England. Few real witches were ever killed. But those labeled as such were due to physical disfigurements like moles, birthmarks, and other deformities, as a sure sign of the devil. This is why I agree with your spiritual approach in life, Forrest. I have witnessed the treachery from some of those who are in highest holy places for myself and they believe themselves to be gods. What offense had these boys done to deserve death? Not a thing. Nothing is more sinister than harming an innocent child.”

  “I agree,” Matilda said.

  I thought about what Albert had said about their births. “So if they bite or scratch a human, like you threatened before, the person becomes a were-rat?”

  Albert offered a sly grin. “By all means, allow one of them to do so. You’ll have firsthand results.”

  My jaw tightened and I frowned. “So they’ve turned others?”

  “They are cautious, as I have taught them. A few accidents have occurred.”

  “Then they can infect others?” I asked with a firm stare.

  “Yes. As can I. It is the curse I carry. The boys suffer from it, too, and I have no definitive answer as to why. But none of us seek to plague other individuals with what we’re burdened to carry.”

  “What accidents?” Jacques asked.

  “Clyde and George were the two I saved from being killed by the priests. The other three—Jeffrey, Oscar, and Charles—were infected while they were playing tag with George and Clyde. From scratches. At least I don’t believe it was deliberate.”

  I stared at Albert for a long while. It was difficult to believe he was over five hundred years old. I couldn’t imagine living that long.

  His gaze caught mine. He smiled. “You have lingering questions on your mind, don’t you? Ask them.”

  “Do you really consider the curse a curse? After all, you’ve lived to see so many changes in London. You could have traveled the world several times.”

  “With my appearance, it’s difficult to travel to other countries and great cities. I have journeyed to Paris, St. Petersburg, and Spain, but even wearing a hooded cloak, it’s almost impossible to conceal what I am. The long tail is hard to hide. But is it a curse? Yes, in many ways, just as the witch had intended.”

  “How so?”

  Albert offered a tired sigh. “Because the witch was jilted, and I stand by my decision that I was safer putting distance between us, her main intention was to ensure that I’d never find true love. She succeeded because I’ve never met a woman who’d marry an actual rat. I doubt such a woman exists. Sure, some women assert their men are just that, rats, but far from the physical sense of the word. But in many other ways, I have watched the evolution of society, albeit mainly from underground or during the dead of night. I’ve been blessed to behold such things, but I’d cherish them even more with a soul-mate to share the pastimes with.”

  Jacques stared at Matilda. They exchanged warm smiles. Father lowered his head and closed his eyes like he was in prayer.

  Albert forced a smile. “Of course, the boys’ shenanigans keep me quite busy nowadays.”

  The rat boys chattered amongst themselves with smiles and little bursts of laughter. Their noses scrunched and whiskers twitched.

  “So what are your plans?” Albert asked.

  I glanced at Jacques and shrugged. I didn’t know what we should do next. I had proven I was too overconfident in my attacks, so I wanted to know what Jacques thought our next set of actions should be. Neither of us was able to offer quick responses.

  “Good,” Albert said with a broad smile while staring at me.

  “What?” I asked.

  “No hasty decisions?”

  I shook my head.

  “As I mentioned earlier,” Albert said. “I don’t think Raginwulf will remain in the workhouse. He will seek a new place to hide during the day. He won’t chance us returning for him during the daylight again. Finding him now might be nearly impossible, especially if he delays killing more victims and leaving them for the constables to find. He has deliberately not set up a predictable pattern.”

  “That’s true,” Jacques said.

  “Then how will we find him?” I asked.

  Father cleared his throat. “We’re going to have to draw him out.”

  Albert’s brow rose with keen interest. “How do you propose we do that?”

  “We find Esmeralda and take what it is that he seeks,” Father replied.

  “You really think it will be that easy?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “Son, there won’t be anything easy about it.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  November 9th, 1888

  Eight days had passed while we mapped out a plan on how to enter the tunnel that ran beneath Lowbey’s main street. Actually the map and details of what we planned to do was the easiest part. The hardest part was what we had placed upon Matilda. We needed protection from whatever magic the Gypsy witch hurled at us.

  Matilda worked on warding spells, but these weren’t simple to fabricate. They were quite thorough, down to every exact detail, if done correctly. To perfect her enchants and hanging spell
s took a lot of meditation and the proper rituals, most of which she needed to do in total isolation without any interruptions.

  While she agonized working through the spells, Jacques, Father, and I spent a lot of time hunting for various herbs, ointments, and oils from various vendors. What herbs we couldn’t find in shops, we searched the wooded areas and meadows farther out from Whitechapel. Since it was late fall, a lot of them had dried up and gone to seed, so we dug up the roots. Finding all the proper herbs took over half a week to obtain.

  During this time nothing new was reported about Jack the Ripper, at least no more murders had made the headlines. There was plenty of speculation and hoax letters circulating, some of which found their ways into the newspapers. Rumors were rampant on the streets, in the pubs, and amongst the vendors. Panic mesmerized the general public.

  Constable Shields had visited us numerous times over coffee, almost pleading for us to find the Ripper. Albert wore a hood and searched the streets and alleys nightly with us to no avail. No new clues had surfaced. Raginwulf was a master vampire and a master at concealment.

  I believed Father was correct. The only way to get Raginwulf was to lure him out into the open with whatever Esmeralda was hiding or had stolen. We couldn’t even attempt to bait him until Matilda had finished the spells and enchantments to thwart the Gypsy witch’s magic attacks once we reentered the underground tunnel.

  The evening air was crisp and cold, almost hinting of winter’s early frost when Jacques, Father, and I left the pub. Father had abstained from liquor or beer and had instead drunk hot tea. He had not given into his cravings since the night he and I had nearly come to blows. Even though I had suggested a place other than the pub, he insisted he needed to prove his desires for spirits had been conquered. Not thoroughly, I must add. His hands trembled while others drank at nearby tables, but he resisted his urges. The thick sheen of sweat on his brow signified his internal struggle was far from over.