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

by Leonard D. Hilley II

  Luther continued to change, but Rusk fought and resisted his instinctive urges. Even Jacques was having difficulty staying human. His hand tightened on his medallion when Luther got on all fours and howled. Luther’s bones snapped and sinews popped, which sounded brutally painful, but his growls didn’t echo any pain but reverberated his elated anticipation of allowing his inner beast to emerge. Matilda placed her hand upon Jacques’ and shook her head.

  “Luther,” Jacques said.

  The werewolf stared strangely at Jacques for a moment, recognizing his name. He howled and then turned toward Matilda, sniffing her. Albert stepped between her and Luther. He was ready to plunge the tip of his silver dagger into Luther. Luther rose and ran past me.

  “Keep up with him, Forrest,” Jacques said.

  “You’re certain that’s a good idea?”

  “We know we’re buffered. But we need to find Esmeralda before Luther kills her. She needs to remain alive until she reveals why Raginwulf is in London.”

  “What about Rusk?” I asked. “He’s not protected.”

  “He needs to turn back, unless he wishes to risk following,” Jacques replied. “That’s a decision he needs to make.”

  “There’s a good chance that Luther’s rush through the tunnel has triggered any other snares she has set,” Matilda said. “She won’t have enough time to reset them, especially if she senses his approach.”

  “What about my father?” I asked.

  The question disgruntled my father since it called attention to his handicap.

  Rusk said, “I’ll stay with him as the rest of you hurry ahead.”

  I nodded and smiled. Apparently he remembered my father’s physical problems.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  By the time we reached the end of the tunnel, angry snarls and growls were followed by wails of agony. Loud cracks snapped the air. Several Gypsy men in drab suits lay dead in the corner. Pools of blood formed beneath their severed throats. Three more men stood with large bullwhips and thrashed at Luther, snapping him, but only increasing his bloodthirsty anger.

  One whip flung forward, wrapping around Luther’s arm. He secured it in his hand and yanked, propelling the man toward him. Luther’s long claws pierced through the man’s chest and out the other side. He lifted the man and used his limp body as a shield, rushing toward the other two men with whips.

  Esmeralda appeared at the top of a stairwell. Seeing us, she said, “Enough! Truce?”

  Jacques watched Luther for a few more moments and then said, “That’s up to him since you’ve decided to provoke him.”

  Worry creased her face. “I didn’t realize he was with you.”

  Luther ripped the whip from another man and charged him, slashing through his gut deep enough to eviscerate him.

  “He isn’t, really,” I said.

  “Please?” she said. She looked much older than when we had last seen her. Fatigue plagued her. “I thought he was sent by—”

  “The duke?” Jacques asked.

  “Yes. Please call him off?”

  “I don’t think he’ll be too forgiving since your arrow killed one of his pack members.”

  Esmeralda closed her eyes and leaned back against the doorframe. “That was meant for Raginwulf.”

  “Silver doesn’t kill vampires,” Albert said solemnly. “And even you should know better than to cast such a lie before us. I’m a discerner of the truth, and your intention was to kill these people who had only offered to aid you against a common enemy. Now, you’ve become our enemy.”

  Her eyes widened at his appearance. She seemed far more terrified of Albert than the werewolf. “Forgive me.”

  “What is it that you’re hiding from us?” I asked.

  Esmeralda sobbed and sat on the stairs, leaning her head against the wall. “I—I cannot tell you.”

  “Is it worth losing your life?”

  Rusk and my father finally caught up to us.

  “Rusk,” Jacques said. “Go calm Luther down. We have things to discuss with her.”

  Rusk nodded.

  “So you know about the fiddler’s death?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  Luther rushed the last man with a whip and swiped his claws through the man’s overcoat and undershirt. Deep grooves cut through his flesh, quickly filling with crimson. Luther placed his hand on the injured man’s shoulder and glanced toward Esmeralda. “He does not die.”

  Esmeralda’s eyes widened, but she kept the side of her face against the wall. “You’ve cursed him?”

  “To replace the brother of mine that your trap killed. He leaves with me.”

  She slid her hand behind her, reaching through the doorway. A second later she hurled a glass bottle to the floor. It burst in the center of where we stood.

  “Wolfsbane!” Luther growled. He grabbed the man he had infected and sprinted back in the direction we had come.

  Matilda and Jacques fled, too, covering their faces. Rusk hurried behind them.

  Esmeralda rose and descended the stairs with another bottle of liquid. I held my dagger to my side and waited. Albert told his boys to follow the werewolves. He approached her with bold confident steps. When she noticed his approach, she stopped at the bottom step.

  Albert smiled. “I’m resistant to your magic, witch. And wolfsbane has no affect on me. But you’re aware of what I can do to you. Aren’t you?”

  She lowered the bottle, offering a feeble nod. “Please? Have mercy.”

  His eyes narrowed. “No mercy unless you cooperate.”

  Albert and I approached her.

  Esmeralda sat on the bottom step and shook her head. “I just can’t.”

  I reached inside my overcoat and pulled out the newspaper Shields had given me. I took the photograph from inside the paper. “Esmeralda, Duke Raginwulf isn’t going to stop pursuing you. He’s already found a way to kill some of your people, like the fiddler.”

  She shook her head. Her voice trembled with sobs. “No, he didn’t get into our village. They went to the workhouse to stake him during the day, but they failed.”

  “Look at this photograph. This was his last murder and the most brutal one yet. He plans to do this or much worse to you. I don’t know what he seeks, but his passion to get it back has driven him to rage-filled violence unlike anything the constables of Scotland Yard have ever seen.” I handed the photograph to her. She shook. Her moist eyes filled with horror. “We want to slay Raginwulf, but we need to know why he is here.”

  “What good is that information to you?”

  “He’s no longer in the abandoned workhouse, so we need to lure him to us. I believe we can, provided you share with us the real reason why he has pursued you across several countries. We can use it as leverage or bait to trap him.”

  “You can’t,” she said softly.

  I tapped a finger firmly on the photograph. “That will be you. Then he’ll get what he has come here for anyway. We can help you.”

  Rusk, Jacques, and Matilda stepped through the door at the top of the stairs and stood, staring down at us.

  Esmeralda glanced toward Matilda. “You don’t understand. I’d rather sacrifice my own life than allow him to—”

  Matilda walked down the steps and sat beside her. Matilda placed her hand on Esmeralda’s back and gently rubbed her hand across her shoulders. “Whatever it is, we promise that he won’t be victorious. We can keep you safe. But unless you’re willing to help snare him, we’re ready to move on. Forrest and his father have stayed in London much longer than they’ve intended. They’ve slain many vampires in other countries, so I’d safely wager my life on their success.”

  “Eventually,” I said, “he’s going to find a way into Lowbey. With his rage and strength, he’s not going to be satisfied by killing only you. He’ll make a bloodbath of your people.”

  Esmeralda’s wrung her aged hands together. “Other than immediate family, I have placed trust in few people throughout my life, and I’ve been less incli
ned to put faith in anyone after what happened with the duke and his deception.”

  Jacques said, “Either you start today by trusting us, or we leave you to whatever fate befalls you.”

  She looked into Matilda’s eyes for several seconds before she rose to her feet. “I hope you’re correct that you’re able to defeat him. His death would greatly diminish my burdened heart, but if you fail . . . nothing can ever ease the pain. Come, follow me.”

  Esmeralda walked up the stairs and wisps of magic intensified beyond the doorway. Jacques and Rusk stepped aside. I followed Matilda and Albert carried up the rear behind my father. I had no idea where Luther had gone, but I felt certain that the rat boys had left the village and headed back to their underground chambers.

  She led us to the building where we had first met her. The magical power we had been sensing was inside her shop. After we went inside she stood still with her back to us. Her body shook. “You’re certain you’ll do everything to prevent him from taking what I value more than my own life?”

  Pulses of energy radiated from behind a door where the table was set. For some reason I had never noticed it during our previous visit.

  “Is what you’ve done that has enraged him truly justifiable?” I asked.

  Esmeralda was silent for almost a minute. “Yes. I believe I had no other choice.”

  “Good. I give you my word that we will slay him,” I said. It was too bold of a statement for someone my age to promise, but the words left me without hesitation. An urging inside spoke through me, controlled me, and that made me slightly nervous. Even Jacques looked at me questionably.

  Esmeralda pulled the chain of her necklace from her blouse, which secured a large key. She walked to the door, stuck in the key, and unlocked it. She hesitated before finally pushing it open.

  A wave of magical energy rushed through the door and washed over me. From the way the others reacted, they had all felt it, too.

  “You’ve set a magical fortress around this room?” Matilda asked.

  “Yes,” Esmeralda replied. “Which has taxed my health dearly. I’ve aged twenty years trying to maintain this protective shield.”

  Several oil lamps lit the room. A young woman sat in a rocking chair nursing an infant. We exchanged glances, unsure of whom the magic shield was protecting.

  Esmeralda turned and faced us, cupping her hands at her waist. “When I shared the accounts of what had happened with my niece on the night we first learned she was a vampire, I withheld significant information. This child is who Duke Raginwulf seeks to obtain.”

  “Why?” Jacques said.

  “He is the duke’s son,” she replied. “That’s why he has abandoned everything to find me. He wants Varak back.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  “Duke Raginwulf’s son?” Father asked. “How is this even possible?”

  Jacques frowned. “Only those who are direct descendants of Dracula can father children like living mortals. At least that has always been my understanding. Otherwise vampires sire offspring by feeding their blood to their victims and then draining their life’s blood until death. Then they rise as vampires. Is Raginwulf directly related to Dracula?”

  “Not to my knowledge,” Esmeralda said.

  Albert stepped closer to the child, and Esmeralda became visibly upset by his approach. “It is extremely rare for a vampire to father a child the natural way, but it does happen.”

  “You know of this happening?” I asked.

  Albert grinned. “Live over five hundred years and your chances of seeing rarities proliferates quite a lot.”

  “I suppose so.”

  Matilda walked to the side of the rocking chair. The baby opened his eyes, looking at her. “Sky-blue eyes.”

  “He has his father’s eyes,” Esmeralda said.

  “So tell us what else had happened?” I said.

  “When Fifika had arrived at our homestead, the time for her to give birth was near. She insisted that she stay with us. After she had discovered Raginwulf’s true nature, she left the duke because she feared what his influence on her child would reap. She informed us of the duke’s tyranny over their servants and those beneath his immediate rule, which was something none of the rest our family had ever seen. Her accusations seemed groundless.”

  “Due to his glamour?” Jacques asked.

  “I suppose, but she was mortified to let him near the child.”

  “When did she give birth then?” Father asked.

  Sorrow filled Esmeralda’s eyes. Her brow furrowed. “After she attacked us and we cornered her with the crosses, she began having pains across her stomach. Each time one of us tried to help her, she tried to bite us, so we couldn’t do anything to relieve her pain. That’s why we had hoped to get her to a priest the next morning. Not just for her, but for the baby’s sake.”

  “But that didn’t happen?” Matilda asked.

  Esmeralda shook her head.

  “So she gave birth while you had her cornered?”

  “No. When we walked her outside and she burst into flames, the baby lay on the ground unharmed,” Esmeralda replied.

  Albert frowned. “The sunlight has no effect on the child?”

  She shook her head.

  “Interesting,” he said.

  “What does that mean?” Jacques asked.

  “It means she was pregnant before Raginwulf turned her,” Albert replied.

  Esmeralda glared at him. “How dare you make such an accusation.”

  The were-rat offered a slight smile. “Sorry, but there’s no other explanation. Sunlight would have engulfed the child along with the mother, if he was a vampire.”

  “So he’s not a vampire?” I asked.

  “Worse,” Albert said. “He’s a hybrid, half human and half vampire. Oh, Raginwulf is definitely the father, or he’d have killed Fifika for her infidelity well before the child was due to be born. He wanted her pregnant before turning her so the child would be a hybrid.”

  “A hybrid?” I glanced at the infant.

  “Yes. He is capable of withstanding the sunlight unharmed, which is probably why the duke wants this child so badly. Imagine the power a vampire can wield if sunlight has no affect on him, and he has no direct ties to Dracula. Hunters know the best time to slay a vampire is during the day when vampires are the most vulnerable. A hybrid doesn’t need to fear this weakness, and because he could go outside in the sunlight, most people would never suspect him to be a vampire.”

  I held the photograph out for Esmeralda to see again. “I’m beginning to understand why his murders were so graphic and why he cut out some of those women’s wombs. He wanted you to know he was the murderer and it testified to what he plans to do to you since you ripped his child away from him. He’s going to come after you regardless, so we need to find a place where we can trap and slay him.”

  She looked away from the picture and back toward the baby. She shook her head. “Are you implying I should have let Raginwulf take Varak?”

  “No.”

  “We cannot allow him to have Varak,” she said.

  Albert looked at her reassuringly. “Believe me, there’s no way we’re going to allow him to take this child. The world is in grave danger if he rears him. Even Dracula’s clan would fear his rule.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Elder vampires can glamour, making themselves appear gorgeous to the overall human population, but Hunters are gifted with insight that allows them to see through the guise. A hybrid or half-blood can go undetected even by Hunters, which is why they are far more dangerous than normal vampires. They thirst for blood, like the vampires, and their overenthusiastic bloodlust is often what makes them careless, giving a Hunter a trail to follow. By then the carnage is so bad, Hunters are often blamed for not acting sooner.”

  “Why would Dracula and his children fear these hybrids?”

  “Half-bloods despise other vampires and view the direct descendants of Dracula as the most vile for having increased
the undead population. Since the hybrids walk in the sunlight and have incredible strength, they can kill those protecting a Dracula’s tomb during the daylight and slay the royal vampires while they are the most vulnerable.”

  Esmeralda took Varak from the wet-nurse, and the look on the woman’s face held the gravest concern, as though the child she was nursing was hers and not orphaned. Her hands remained outstretched toward the Gypsy witch like she longed to hold the child close to her breast and keep him warm and safe.

  “I’d give my life to save him,” Esmeralda said.

  “As would I,” the wet-nurse whispered.

  “I’m afraid it may come to that,” Albert replied.

  I regarded the child with great curiosity. There was power surrounding the infant, something I had never felt emitting from a baby before. I had experienced such from Baron Randolph and Duke Raginwulf, but for radiance to come from a baby struck fear deep inside of me. His aura was strong, such that Esmeralda was willing to sacrifice her life to save his, but this was the child’s prompting more so than her own rationality. I sensed his control pulsing toward her and the wet-nurse, demanding their protection and desire to remain within his presence.

  The look in Matilda’s eyes altered. She smiled, coming closer to the baby. “He is beautiful.”

  Father, Jacques, and Rusk nodded their agreement, also smiling and under complete enthrallment. The child had mesmerized them, too, I realized. Gentle stirrings manifested around me, trying to draw my loyalty, my affections, toward the child. I suppose, since I am a Hunter, I was able to resist being spellbound by Varak.

  I feared how powerful his charisma would eventually blossom as he aged. He held great power now, but he didn’t have full control. After years of practicing, however, there wasn’t any way of knowing what his limits would become. And while I had promised Esmeralda I would ensure the child’s protection, I found myself worried about the dangers humanity faced should he be allowed to live.

  But who could kill a child, even if destiny ruled that he’d become pure evil?

  Not me. Not even with the strength of the premonition warning me, screaming at me, I couldn’t do it. The dangers the world eventually faced concerned me, but due to my conscience of him being an infant, I could only hope that my instinct was misleading me. Perhaps the child could eschew evil tendencies and cling to the high morals to make the world a better place. I doubted either Esmeralda or Matilda could discern this child’s proper future. Would his nature be different with a virtuous person than with his own father? Or did it matter? Was he predestined to perform wicked evil deeds regardless?