by Karen Payton
Following the road south east, Sebastian found nothing else helpful and diverted into the woods to head back to London.
The lumbering sound penetrated first and without giving it a thought, Sebastian began tracking the creature he saw moving through the trees. He could smell human desperation and watched with a predator’s amusement at the futility of his prey. I wonder what’s he’s doing here?
Arranging his features into a sympathetic expression concealed Sebastian’s sadistic nature and used his benign nineteen-mortal-year-old face to best advantage. Pulling the wool over human eyes was a sport he never tired of. Though, opportunities such as this are rare these days. Sebastian smiled while he shadowed the blundering human’s progress.
He filled his chest with the clean air of the Kentish woods. Sebastian had finally escaped the suffocating inner-city stench of Durham, a coal mining town in the Northeast of England, where he had left behind a trail of indiscretions. I’ve been quite good since the ‘70s. But, it has been tough. Coal-blackened skin acted as useful camouflage, and it was a time of chaos, when the poverty caused by the pit closures were beginning to bite. He had immersed himself in the beleaguered community, and did a little biting of his own.
Sadly, the blood he drank was not so much barbecued, as carbon-gritted. Sebastian firmly believed their blood tasted abrasive because coal dust permeated the miners’ skin. It had been like swallowing low-grade sandpaper.
Now, the coalminers’ wives were an entirely different experience. They were more succulent, and he became addicted to their lightly-smoked flavor. The soot-ingrained husbands mounted their wives; basting them with their tainted juices thickened the delicate cocktail of female blood to a full-bodied fortified wine.
Sebastian played Casanova’s role to perfection. He flattered them until their dulled gazes glittered with the diamond chips of excitement. Despite their pale gray complexions, they were passably good-looking, for the most part, and so grateful for my attention.
But ultimately, he tired of the game of staining their skin with love bites, only pulling the blood to the surface until the burst capillaries bruised their skin and released an enticing odor which made his mouth water. Finally, his hunger won.
His lip curled with visceral pleasure. Sebastian relished those moment when they came. When they draped their eager bodies over his, begging him to make love to them, and instead of playing the gentlemen and yet again protecting their virtue, he gave them what they craved. He drove himself inside them and swallowed their screams of pain with his kiss. Without their tongues, they drown in their own blood as he finally sucked them dry.
Whispering rumors afterwards, saying the women had abandoned their coarse husbands in favor of the heat of romance, Sebastian enjoyed turning the knife.
Okay, killing the boy was a step too far. The thin, grubby five-year-old had been his undoing.
The horror of running in through the doorway and seeing his mother’s blood-drenched corpse hanging in Sebastian’s arms had frozen the child stiff in those vital seconds when, if not escape, then a chance of raising the alarm was possible. The kid threw himself at the back door, grazing his hands on the rough wooden boards when the metal thumb latch rattled, but would not spring open. Sebastian had caught him in midflight and swung him around, tossing him across the room to smash into the stone fireplace. The boy’s undernourished neck had snapped like a dry twig.
He had left the snack untouched, abandoning his usual clean up routine, and the perplexing disappearances of women within the community stepped over the line into the horror of butchered families.
And then, the tabloids began muttering about a serial killer. The vampire council demanded Sebastian appear before them, and they had shut him down. No second chances. Desist or be condemned to locked-in syndrome for eternity. So, I have been good since then, mostly.
Sebastian waited ten years for a space to come up in the London Hive. He was good at faking sincerity, and he had persuaded the principal of the Durham Hive to stamp his transfer papers. He saw an opportunity to rid himself of me, and he took it. But hey, we both wanted the same thing. Sebastian shed his reputation before the wax of the principal’s seal had cooled, and was enjoying the luxury of his clean slate.
Soft expressions clung easily to his appealing features, and he harnessed the powers of smoke and mirrors. Sebastian was Houdini and Barnum rolled into one likeable package. But he found the glitter of spite in the murky brown/green depths of his eyes harder to disguise. Being good in London was never his intention. But, not getting caught is.
His bargain with Serge was a front. If I find nothing that points the finger at Doctor Connor, then I’ll make it up. After all, the flawed Councilor Serge had been an easy mark. Flattering him was laughably easy. The councilors’ eyes had flashed with respect when Sebastian used the title ‘the general’. The truth was, he was a chameleon, and a great judge of character, and the combination had never let him down. What name I would have chosen if faced with Doctor Connor? Even vampires hunger for attention, he thought with an acidic smile.
Councilor Serge’s conviction that these woods held the key to secrets guarded by Doctor Connor was an idea worth exploring. Maybe, I’ve struck it lucky?
Sebastian’s curiosity in the wandering mound of blubber-covered humanity became acute. He enjoyed the scent of hyperventilating anxiety. Expanding his ribcage and drawing it in, it stung like the sulphurous fumes of brimstone. He cocked his head and considered the possibility of life being that simple. Could this be the evidence against the doctor I’m looking for? And if not, then, I can have a little fun.
The man, sweating heavily, leaned back against a tree and began to slide towards the ground. Reaching around the thick trunk, Sebastian closed his fingers around the human’s neck. He brought the man up short and absorbed the shot of fear sizzling along the synapses in the human brain.
Seconds passed, and the man’s fear intensified. He tried to jerk his head, and croaked in a sudden burst of bravado, “Do it then. You want me dead and my blood disgusts you, so just do it.”
“Tut tut,” whispered Sebastian. “You really should be careful what you wish for.” He flexed his icy fingers, briefly cutting the oxygen supply to the brain, and knowingly causing black clouds to trundle across the man’s vision. “Now, my question is this, what are you doing out here in the middle of nowhere, alone and defenseless?”
Sebastian’s riot of messy black hair suggested a playful and mischievous persona, until he rolled his top lip back and smeared cruelty across his features. Dripping menace from his gaze, he moved around into view and enjoyed etching terror on to the human face.
“I’m lost, I’m trying to get to London.” The man wheezed as the fingers clamped around his vocal chords tightened.
“Ah, you are keen to join the farm, hmm?” purred Sebastian. “That’s all that awaits you in London.” His tone became bored. I could drain him now and no one would know. Playing with the rules was an undeniable thrill. A final indulgence, before I become Councilor Serge’s mild-mannered student. Reaching this conclusion in less than a second, Sebastian’s mouth opened as he went in for the kill.
The man started to cry.
“I want to be one of you,” he said, forcing a strangled croak. “I need to be one of you.”
Sebastian considered Douglas’ clammy flesh, his nostrils flared at the musky odor, and venomous juice flowed into his mouth. He enjoyed the taste of anger and desperation, although his favorite flavor was terror, but he could wait for that. As he contemplated the fleshy face, gut instinct kicked in. What was it he said? Ah, that was it, ‘my blood disgusts you’.
“Need?” Sebastian’s curiosity piqued. “Why, need?”
“That bastard stole my wife. It’s disgusting, the bruises. God knows what he does to her.” The man dragged in a deep, sobbing breath.
“Which bastard would that be?” Sebastian’s seductive tone invited a confidence.
“Connor,” he spat.
“Ah.” Sebastian sighed, his saintly smile more terrifying than the sneer. “Correct answer.”
Holding the man in a viselike grip, Sebastian applied careless traction to his spine, lifting him until his toes barely brushed the ground. Before Douglas’ anguished groan could fill the air, Sebastian was already propelling him through the woods.
How will Councilor Serge show his appreciation?
The man’s yelps when the undergrowth whipped against his doughy skin went unheeded as Sebastian’s mind raced ahead to London.
Chapter 31
That evening, Rebekah entered the meeting cavern to hear what news, if any, there was on Leizle, and Thomas was not there. She rubbed the back of her neck, her palm coming away damp with the cold sweat of apprehension. Where is Thomas? She cast a glance at the rows of intent profiles, all listening to Harry’s heavy tone of regret. There is no news on Leizle, I have to get out of here. As she slipped from the cavern, chasing down her own thoughts, every one took her back to the same place. Each explanation began and ended with Thomas’ words of this morning. “I saw Douglas in the woods.” Surely, he’s not so foolish?
Rebekah had not seen him since midday, and certainty sat like a stone in her chest. Yes, he is that stupid.
Before common sense could talk her out of it, she packed some vacuum sealed food pouches in her satchel for Thomas. I’ll find him, and he’ll be fine. He’s missed a couple of meals, that’s all. His thin frame haunted her.
The rhythmic scuff of her walking boots over the hard packed ground became a soundtrack to the argument racing inside head. I have to bring him back before Connor wrings his neck.
“I don’t suppose Connor was ever foolish, not even when he was a young human,” Rebekah muttered.
She moved through the tunnels, glad that everyone remained together in the meeting cavern, drawing strength to ease their stunned grief. Harry’s update told them little, except there was, as yet, no news at all. Connor will find her. I just have to find Thomas.
Worry made her angry. Rebekah’s decision to shake some sense into Thomas lasted until she passed out from behind the sackcloth curtain. The cold blustering air took her breath away. Crap, it’s bloody freezing. She was back to feeling sorry for him. The woods, the motorcycle, and now- She sighed heavily. He’s searching for Douglas. Shit, Thomas, strike three.
The darkness of the tunnel gave way to the glow of moonlight. The night air smelled dank, and the cold ground chilled her feet even through the soles of her boots. The spiteful breeze spat icy air into her face; she pulled her woolen layers around her body, turned up the collar of her oilskin coat and zipped it all the way up.
She left the shelter of the tunnel, stepped out on to the oily surface of the dew-slicked meadow, and ran for the cover of the woods. I hope Thomas wrapped up, too. But somehow, she doubted it.
The moon played hide and seek behind the purple evening clouds, shredding her nerves whenever its silver light flooded the meadow. With a hundred yards of rough grass still left to cross, the rasping cold filling her lungs and numbing her lips made it harder than she could ever have imagined.
A tantalizing fifty yards remained between her and the woods, when a swell of moonbeams glittered over the meadow. Rebekah dived on to the ground and lay prone, giving her aching chest time to catch a breath. She focused on the blades of grass and waited until the clouds dragged a black shadow over the field again before easing up onto her knees and sprinting forward. Nearly there.
The irony of dodging moonlight as vampires did the sun was not lost on her.
As the shade of the trees closed overhead, she released a thankful sigh. For a second, Rebekah felt as if she had gone blind. The thick canopy cut out all the light. And, that’s good. Like a child hiding under the bed, there was no getting to her now.
She froze and listened.
Animal noises were reassuring. Commonsense told her that in the presence of a predator, an eerie silence would descend. But when the hunter could wring a bird’s neck before it could swallow its song. Not so good.
Stagnant air clawed its way into her chest, and a cough burned at her throat. Taking a carefully silent mouthful of water from her flask, she took another beta-blocker for good luck. She lifted her chin to swallow and the rush of cold air was like a metal collar around her neck. God, it’s cold.
She crept forward a few dozen yards, finally pausing and pressing her back into a familiar tree. She recognized the cluster of silver birch trees which, in the gloom, resembled a picket fence erected by a giant’s hand. Does that make me Jack, hiding in his garden? Rebekah shuddered. Smelling blood is a big deal in my world too.
Tree-hugging her way carefully through the wood, the wintry chill gave way to bone-deep cold. The carpet of ice crystals numbed her feet. As she moved deeper into the undergrowth, heading towards the hilltop Thomas had talked about, the darkness became a thickly woven blanket.
Cold had been merely a word to Rebekah before tonight. Cold was not a shiver, her body was past that, and even three woolen layers and the oilskin did not keep the ache from reaching her bones. Her blood retreated into her core, searching of warmth and casting her clammy skin in a mottled blue shroud.
I bet even Connor would feel warm to me now. Her brain felt as stiff as her fingers and her sluggish attention fought to focus on Thomas. He can’t have had much of a head start. I should have found him by now.
Tears of frustration decorated her lashes. Damn, he’s going to freeze. The thought drove her on. Rebekah would never risk shouting, so she set off, using every stray beam of light to see in a landscape of charcoal and black pitch. Standing still every few minutes, she closed her eyes and prayed to hear something human.
After another half an hour, even her clattering teeth ached. She could no longer hear anything except the rattling inside as her body clung to survival. Standing still became impossible, and every time she tried, an undulating shiver almost pushed her over.
Rebekah gave up, or rather, she shut down. The possibility that Thomas may have already turned back taunted her. Retracing her steps would be easy, if she could stop the shuddering which blurred her vision.
I’ll just sit down for a moment, just for a moment.
Before the tired thoughts could wade across her brain, Rebekah dropped down, feeling hard ground beneath her knees. She folded her arms and hugged the stone-cold weight sitting inside her, and tried not to topple over.
The frozen earth numbed her backside, and the pain in her chest subsided. Is that tingle in my ribs heat?
She rested her chin on her chest, tranquility settled into her bones and her eyelids drifted closed. And then, she heard it. A sob. I should do something. Minutes dragged by before she forced her eyelids open, focusing again on the scenery of coal dust and gray ash as the sobbing noise scratched at her ears again.
The black thicket of tree trunks extended across in front of her, and a flash of pale gray flitting by beyond them jolted her mind to full attention. Holding her breath, Rebekah stared. What was that? Thomas? The knot in her chest told her she was wrong.
Rolling forward onto her hands and knees, pain screamed through every frozen muscle as she eased silently back up to her feet. Crouched over, she moved toward the quiet rasp of labored breathing. Breathing is good. It can’t be a vampire.
Rebekah stubbed her toe on something softer than rock and her knees buckled. She landed heavily, and her startled outstretched hands collided with a bundle of ice-stiffened fabric. Her probing fingers discovered a face with features carved in cold cramped muscles and skin as firm as tanned leather.
“Thomas,” she mouthed.
Her cold skin crawled when a flicker of white, closer this time, flashed between the trees. Resting her hands on the boy’s eerily still form, she froze, held her breath, and waited.
A quiet rattling sound grew louder as the gray oval shape, floating in midair, drifted nearer. The black slit in the face became an oozing black wound and Rebekah heard something wet sp
lattering the leaves of the undergrowth.
Shit. Vampire. Her hand crept forward to cover Thomas’ mouth.
She tried to let the tension in her body go, knowing they could hear that too, tendons scraping. So Connor said.
Shit, shit, shit. Staring straight ahead, a shudder cramped her flesh.
A blood soaked hand appeared on the nearby tree trunk; the stained gray face rotated slowly, saliva bubbling in his throat as he scented the air.
The ink-black mass of his body obscured her sight in a shroud of black. She shrank away when he glided another step closer.
Forcing her eyes closed and bowing her head, Rebekah prayed. Her stiff face ached as she clamped her chattering teeth together, and remained motionless.
A drop of thin blood splattered onto her sleeve and dripped down her arm. The rancid stench from his coat almost made her gag when the fabric almost grazed her shoulder. Cold sweat crawled under her skin.
Please God, please God, please God…
Her skin tingled as if it was trying to feel him, and the not knowing tore her gut open.
Finally, she prised her eyes open, and, slicing a glance left without moving her head, she kept his boots in sight. Her nerves screamed, she tried not to swallow, and she lost all feeling below the waist as the frost on the ground crept into her flesh. The absurd thought that ‘frozen meat doesn’t smell’ popped into her head.
A heavy droplet of something plopped onto the hood of her oilskin, and bile stung her throat as a stringy lump of flesh slithered down, hanging in front of her face for a moment, before the wet mass thumped into her lap.
Her throat burned, begging her to gulp in oxygen. Rolling black clouds oozed across her vision, each one becoming a monster in a shadow.
She strained her eyes left, and the boots were gone.
Her sluggish heart ached in her chest when a rustling sound beyond the trees gave her hope. He’s moving off. Rebekah had no idea how many minutes she waited. She waited until the fear cramped fibers of her muscles began to twitch. Fuck... I have to move. Gripping Thomas’ coat in both hands she pulled him steadily back, heaving at the bag of bones which seemed to be made of concrete. Putting her back into it, she dragged him deeper into the thick undergrowth until she couldn’t see her hand in front of her face.