© 2014 K. P. Ambroziak
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Published by K. P. Ambroziak
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Edited by Veronica Murphy
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THE JOURNAL OF VINCENT DU MAURIER
by K. P. Ambroziak
Translator’s Note
Up on the Esja, just north of the capital city that used to be known as Reykjavik, a hiker found this journal. He had passed the rock wasteland of Þverfellshorn and the plain of fresh snow, and had reached the grassy peak of Hábunga. As he crouched along the water that cuts through the mountain to wash the sweat from his brow, he saw it. Lodged in a crevice on the stream’s bank was a small leather-bound notebook wrapped in plastic. He picked up the treasure, threw it in his backpack, and started his trek down. With the exception of its last few missing pages, the following chronicle is the contents of that book translated in its entirety. The ink and paper have been authenticated, and we believe this journal is an original document from the period of the Red Death.
Dagur Bijarnarson
268 P.C.E. (Post Common Era)
19 September. — Today seems a more fitting day than most to begin this record. With every last drop of blood spoiled by this plague, I am soon to be a relic. I know my invitation to Hades no longer stands, for all those gods are dead and gone, but if I am banished to the halls of oblivion, I want to be remembered. These pages then will bear the account of my survival, my proof of existence.
I have gorged for thousands of years but today starvation nags at the very pit of my core. The temptation sitting mere feet from my chamber piques my voracious appetite. Stephen and Veronica were as surprised as I to discover fresh blood and I knew they found it difficult to resist the smell. Oh, the smell! That enticing blend of sour metal and sweet tonic—intoxicating nectar! We had not smelled blood that fresh since … I cannot remember when … ah, perhaps in the nunnery! I knew if they were clean, I would have to rush them back. All I could think about was bringing fresh blood to Byron, watching him devour it with the elegance I had taught him all those years ago. No longer the gluttonous sort, he would slowly suck the ichor to let his palate delight in all its subtleties. If I could get these donors back to my beloved, I could revive him and stave off his entropy. With three of them, we would all enjoy a much-needed repast even if it were a modest one. This was the reprieve I had hoped for.
“We must make sure they are not infected,” I said.
Only my companions could hear me since I kept my voice too low for human ears. I pierced the inside of Stephen’s wrist to gain his attention; he was in a daze, mesmerized by the smell. Veronica salivated but had closed her mouth at least; her fangs dropped the moment she smelled fresh blood. The three humans began to fidget. We had been so quiet they must have wondered what happened to us, for they certainly saw the front door open when we rushed in. They probably hoped they had not elicited the attention of the few stragglers wandering outside. One of the men had his hand on the girl’s mouth and I assumed she had a hard time keeping calm since she shook beneath his grasp—she smelled extra sweet.
I almost felt compassion for them. They were rather helpless in their predicament with us in their midst and the bloodless stalking the perimeter. They were most likely terrified of being alive, and I thought it strange they had not yet killed themselves. Perhaps human nature made them as resilient as us. We were desperately trying to wait out the plague, hoping for it to vanish as suddenly as it had arrived. Something must have rallied their hope too. It had been so long since I was human, I could not remember how it felt.
There we were in the dark with the bloodless on our heels and humans in our grasp. What was the right move? Speak first or attack unnoticed? I really only had a moment to decide, for they started toward an exit on the other side of the room.
“Wait,” I said softly. “Please do not leave.” They froze, probably wondering how I could see them in the dark. “I can hear you breathing.”
“We’re scared,” Veronica said, following my lead.
The sound of a female voice eased their fear, for one of the men came forward and shined a flashlight in our direction. He had a pistol in his hand. “We don’t want any trouble,” he said.
They could see us now and we made on the light blinded us.
“Neither do we,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant while faking a squint.
“Are any of you bit?” He asked.
“None of us have been bitten,” I said. “Are any of you?” I hoped beyond hope he would answer in the negative.
“No.”
Perfect.
Veronica’s next move was inspired. “We’re lost,” she said. “We’ve been overrun and have nowhere else to go.” She topped off her plea with a flush of emotion, as she mustered up a cry. She took to the ruse rather naturally.
Stephen looked over at me. Neither of us knew she was capable of tears. Exasperation, maybe emotional outbursts, but never actual tears. It was remarkable. Veronica’s face was awash with crystallized streaks, an effect not lost on the human girl who spoke out from the darkness.
“We don’t have much,” she said. “We’re making do here until they pass.” She referred to the swarm we had avoided on the outskirts of town. It had already stormed through, but the three humans did not know that the streets were mostly empty now.
“How did you get past them?” The second man spoke this time.
“We were extremely quiet,” Stephen said. “But for the most part, we’ve been able to avoid the swarms.”
“Swarms?”
“That is what we call them.” I still tried to sound casual—human.
“We don’t have any food left if that’s what you’re after,” the man with the pistol said.
Your food? You are food.
“Oh no,” I said. “We do not need your food.”
The man’s flashlight flickered and then went off. I took that opportunity to make my move. I lunged forward with Veronica and Stephen, and together we pounced on the trio. I took down the man with the gun, which was of no consequence since he could not see me coming in the dark, and his pistol dropped to the floor when I pierced his neck. The taste of the nectar almost made me lose my senses. Stephen grabbed the other man while Veronica leapt on the girl. I planned on saving those two for Byron and the others.
“Leave them untapped,” I said before burying my fangs in the man’s neck a second time.
“Please!” Veronica begged. “Let us taste.”
I had taken the first bite to test it, to make sure the man told the truth when he said they had not been infected. My second indulgence was for pleasure. With the man’s blood heavy on my lips and in my throat, I passed him off to Veronica. Stephen would want her to feed first. He would always put the needs of his beloved before his own.
The three of us drained the man completely, sucking him dry to reinvigorate ourselves with his blood. The ichor coursed through me, renewing my senses and giving me that full body high that made me feel invincible. The girl had passed out the moment we attacked, and although it was too dark to see me put my fangs into the neck of his companion, the other
man, held down by Stephen, resigned himself to his fate. He knew he was done for and blubbered like a child.
“Shush!” Veronica scolded. “You’ll raise a swarm with that noise.”
“We are not going to hurt you,” I said. “Not now.”
The plan until then had been to get the blood into our system, but we still had to design a way to get the humans to the cathedral. I assumed it was as simple as putting them on our backs and carrying them through the streets and the field, but when I heard the howls outside the trattoria, I knew our escape would be more difficult. They were drawn to smell as well as sound, and the dead man’s viscera at our feet were piquing their curiosity. It would not be long before the few became a swarm.
“They’re here,” Veronica said.
“Oh God! Oh God!” The man cried again.
“Shush!” Stephen reacted instinctively and covered the man’s mouth, but chipped one of his front teeth, cutting his lip and knocking him out. When the blood gushed, the scent of sweet nectar hit the air. “Oops.” Stephen looked at me sheepishly. They were like children these two.
“Lick it up,” I said. “But keep him alive.”
He shared the morsel with his beloved, and while they slurped up the blood on the man’s swollen mouth, I drew up a plan. We could not pass through a swarm in the streets, and the scent of the flesh would drive them through the walls, but if we could get out another way, the dead man’s body would distract them long enough for us to flee.
“Wait here,” I said.
I went down a corridor and followed it to a salon at the back. On the way, I noticed an open storage chamber. Its shelves had been raided, culled by starving humans; broken jars, smashed bottles, human waste, dried bones, and empty cans harassed me with their offensive smells. Humans had a high tolerance for rot, and it seemed as though these three had lived here for more than a few days. The pile of fresh feces in the corner of the chamber was a most cringeworthy sight.
When I reached the salon, the windows greeted me with some fresher air. They had been smashed and resealed multiple times with the floorboards, but despite the coverings, the air was a relief from the stench of human excrement. There was a bar along one wall toppled over on its side with a heap of barstools and ashes piled up against it. The remains of several charred corpses lay on the floor next to the stools. When I saw the sealed door, I threw myself up against it, listening to the narrow laneway at the back. Quiet and empty, we would make it our exit route. I rushed to get the others.
“Grab them both,” I said.
Veronica carried the girl in her arms and Stephen threw the man over his shoulders.
“We have to move quickly,” I said.
We were still vulnerable to a swarm, despite our having been strengthened by the blood. Even with the two extra bodies, I counted on our being able to spring onto the roof where we could better escape. The darkness would play to our advantage, but I had not decided how to deal with the scent of the humans. That would be our obstacle.
When we stepped into the laneway, I spotted a few bloodless wandering past it on our left. I hoped they were making their way to the front of the trattoria. The howls of a swarm increased, but the mass of them was far enough on the other side of the building, though I did not count on it being for long.
“We need to go up,” I said.
I took the man from Stephen’s arms and insisted he scale the brick. He hoisted himself up halfway, grabbing hold of the wall, and then propelled his body onto the roof. It was a relief to see him bound so quickly through the air, the human blood having replenished him. He leaned over the side of the building and gave us the all clear.
I had not expected bloodless on the roof. They did not seem evolved enough for tactical matters. Once I had seen several skirt a fence rather than go over it when the latter would have been the optimal choice. It was questionable whether they were fully thinking creatures or mere beasts, but I would never underestimate my adversary, and so I renewed my effort to get us onto the roof and out of there as discreetly as possible.
“We will toss the girl up first,” I said.
I put the man on the ground, and grabbed hold of the girl’s legs. Veronica took her by the arms and together we threw her up to Stephen. Her limbs flailed like a ragdoll, but he caught her at the top and laid her down on the roof. He gave us the signal to toss up the other. The howls increased and I hurried to ready the man. Veronica took the arms and I the legs, but this time we launched the body a little too softly. Stephen made the catch but not without pulling the man’s shoulder from its socket. Unfortunately, this woke him from his unconscious state with a scream.
“Cover his mouth,” I said.
Stephen pulled him up onto the roof and did one better. He knocked him out cold again, though it was too late to salvage our discreetness. The scream had alerted the swarm to our position, and several bloodless rounded the corner to get to us. Within moments, new swarms formed at either end of the laneway.
“Go,” I said to Veronica. She scaled the wall as easily as Stephen, and when I saw her safely up top, I threw myself onto the bricks. Several bloodless reached me, tearing at my boots with their bony fingers, but they could not gain a grip, as I kicked them off my feet. I was relieved when none of them attempted to scale the wall and climb up after me. When I looked back down at the rotting faces, smacking their jaws to get at me, I shuddered at the thought of being pulled down into them. By the sound of the howls echoing up through the trattoria, some of them had retreated inside and were newly enthralled by the bit of flesh we left behind. It would not be long before the rest of them tore down the walls with their stampede, plowing through one another to get to the human remains lying on the floor.
From the roof, we were able to locate an escape route near a button store farther down the lane, and we made our way from the town and into the forest almost as swiftly as we had arrived. The girl had been unconscious since the trattoria and I held her to my breast to shelter her from the wind. I wanted to prevent her delicious scent from piquing the nose of others, though we did not see too many in the forest now.
Our flight through the cool air revived her and she moved in my arms. I looked down to find her staring up at me. Her neck was exposed and I saw the blood flooding her veins with its sweetness—I could feel her skin throbbing, as the hot serum rushed beneath it. My need to taste her was strong, but I tempered my desire with thoughts of Byron. I could not wait to bring him the prize I held in my arms; I would be satiated just watching him guzzle every drop of her blood. “We must hurry,” I said.
When we reached the field, Veronica ran ahead and readied the passage. She held the hatch open for us and I went down first. The girl was quiet, though she was fully awake. Stephen followed me, carrying the man with his arm still dangling from its socket. Veronica was just about to make her way down the steps when she was caught in the grip of a jowl. The bloodless had come out of nowhere, skulking silently in the dark.
“Stephen!” Her call tore through him and though he had already reached the bottom step, he threw the man down and bolted back up to help his beloved. I had placed the girl down as well and was about to run up to give them help when she tugged at the cuff of my pant.
“Don’t go,” she whispered.
I barely gave her a glance, shaking her hand loose. I rushed up the steps to find six or seven bloodless swarming, their howls escalating so they were soon baying at the moon. Stephen had freed his beloved from the grip of the first and planted his dagger deep in its jowl. Veronica tore the mandible of another with her bare hands. The fresh blood had renewed our fangs and talons and made them worthy opponents for bony fingers and rancid mouths. The bloodless could not break skin, for the texture of ours had become as solid as marble again.
I let my talons loose and sliced the necks of two that came forward while Veronica and Stephen dropped the last three, as a few newcomers darted across the field, catching the human whiff that hung in the air. We flew down the ste
ps and I slammed the hatch, locking us in with the iron bar and metal chains before howls of a second swarm reached our threshold. As we headed down the tunnel to safety, the baying of the bloodless faded.
20 September. — When I realized we could run out of people to feed on, my fangs ached for want of a fresh bite. Three months in and I knew the gravity of the threat—the plague was quickly robbing us of our precious resource. It was then that Byron suggested we stockpile as much blood as we could find, foraging clinics, blood banks, hospitals, med vacs, even military facilities for every last drop. We subsisted on the reserves for a fair amount of time, longer in fact than I expected, but feeding on portioned blood is no way for a vampire to live. Our rations are all depleted now and I am desperate again. Byron has taken a turn for the worse, and I fear this is his end. But Maxine’s discovery gave me hope. I did not know if the information she had gathered was worth her life but if it proved true, we would stave off the hunger for a little while longer.
It pains me now to recall Jean’s face, as he watched his beloved consort change before his very eyes, her beauty fleeting as instantly as the gasp of a dead man. When she had returned from that fateful jaunt, she had whispered to her maker in their tongue, her French betraying her fear. “Je me suis fait mordre par les monstres.” I was bitten by the monsters.
“Mais comment?” Jean’s disbelief hung in the air long after his voice echoed through the cathedral.
I asked her where she had been. I was in a foul mood, starving as I was.
“I went to ze trattoria,” she said, “where we found zat boy.”
“Foolish,” I said under my breath.
The boy had already been infected and was on the verge of his transformation. His insides sat atop his outsides and he smelled rancid. He was unconscious, just barely breathing, and my clan was furious with me for refusing to feed on him. It took some convincing to assure them his blood, should it not poison us, would taste putrid.
The Journal of Vincent Du Maurier (Book 1) Page 1