Kidnapped

by Annabelle Lake

  His cock began to rise at the picture her naked beauty made, but he ruthlessly suppressed it. His head was killing him. It was the harsh light of day and the time to think with the hung over head was most unfortunately, upon him.

  Sussex stumbled from the bed, intent on using the chamber pot located discreetly underneath the chair at the opposite side of the room. He watched in disappointment as Laurie donned a dressing gown made of red brocade silk as he stood, waiting a moment for his urine stream to begin to flow.

  Laurie being used to the nature of men did not spare him a glance as she shuffled off to fetch his drink. No doubt she wanted to get rid of him as soon as possible and back to the warm confines of her bed.

  Sussex finished relieving himself; shaking it twice and then one more time to be certain before tucking his cock back into the buff band of his breeches. He finished donning his shirt, the soft linen fitting perfectly across his broad shoulders though it was wrinkled beyond repair. His valet was no doubt going to have a fit when he saw the state that Sussex would soon venture out into the street, in. Valet’s never liked for their masters to look shoddy; they took great pride in their work. He eyed himself critically in the mirror a long moment; yes Jackson was going to have a fit.

  A blood curdling scream had Grayson tearing his eyes from the reflection of himself flexing in the mirror. Instantly alert he ran to pick up his broad sword from where it lay abandoned beside the bed. Sheathing it swiftly in the leather thong he had just moments ago finished tying about his waist, he eased open the door; scanning the hallway with the critical eye of a well trained soldier, before dashing off in search of the disturbance. It had sounded rather close by.

  Sussex rounded the corner of the first long hallway and came to an abrupt halt; a man had Laurie down on the ground and seemed to be attacking her. Jesus Christ! Where were the men that were paid to stand guard and protect these women?

  “You there, stop.” Sussex bellowed in his most authoritative ducal tone and was genuinely surprised when the man did not even acknowledge his presence. Drawing his sword he held it at the ready as he drew nearer. Perhaps the man was mentally unhinged? It was then that he saw the blood. His stomach lurched sickeningly; there was so much blood.

  “God damn your eyes, I said enough!” Grayson bellowed adrenaline coursing through his veins. He could hear his thundering heart beat echoing in his ears. All of this blood was bringing him back to the battlefield. He was close enough now that the tip of his sword pressed into the man’s back and perversely Sussex applied more force than was strictly necessary to get the bastards attention.

  He had his back to Sussex and was hunkered down over Laurie’s prone body. Laurie was lying horribly still, but Sussex refused to let himself think about that. Slowly the attacker lumbered to his feet and heedless of the blade at his back spun to face him. His senses on high alert Grayson could hear an awful rattle issuing from the man’s throat and far worse than anything he had heard on the battlefield; it raised the short hairs on the back of his neck and sent chills of apprehension skittering across his spine.

  Shock held the Duke immobile as the man or rather creature, was a more apt description of the thing in front of him. It was a man of course, though no man like Sussex had ever before seen. His eyes were soulless chasms staring out at him from behind a white film that covered its pupil. His face was slack and blank; blood poured from his mouth, dribbling down its chin. Good God. Had that thing been eating Laurie?

  Sussex risked a quick glance at Laurie’s body and he had to fight the urge to vomit. This thing had indeed been feasting upon Laurie’s body. She was obviously dead, and by the state of her body, it was a mercy. Pieces of flesh from her face and chest were ripped away, and a hole had been gnawed through her stomach allowing her entrails to hang out. Nausea swamped him then. He had battled Napoleon in Waterloo and fighting for his life, been forced to kill hundreds of men, but nothing he had seen in the heat of battle had prepared him for this level of perversity.

  The creature growled low in its throat like some sort of canine and swiped its arms out to grab and tear at the Duke; launching himself at Sussex.

  His sword had fallen a bit slack from his shock, but he managed to bring it up level with the things stomach as the creature flew at him; impaling itself upon the upturned blade. The pressure on his arm did not diminish, nor did the creature fall lifeless to the floor. He kept coming until he had speared himself the entire length of his sword to the hilt; far too close for comfort, it opened its mouth and took a lunge at him. Instinct took over, and Grayson ducked the bite. He heard the sickening snap of teeth as they closed on thin air where he had only moments ago been standing.

  Bringing himself up to his full height once more, Grayson pushed with all his strength to expel the beast from the end of his sword. The zombie staggered back and nearly fell over Laurie’s body but caught himself, not wasting a moment before he lunged for Grayson once more. Ready for him this time Grayson swung his sword and stabbed him neatly through the heart. Shock almost made him drop the sword, as again it seemed to have no response to the blow that should have been fatal. Sweat began to bead and run off his body as he worked to keep the creature at bay; pinned by his sword. How in the bloody hell was he supposed to kill something that didn’t seem to want to die? With a hoarse cry, Grayson shoved the creature off the end of his sword once more, using his shoulder. One of its swinging arms thumped him across the side of the face in the process, causing Grayson to have to shake his head to clear his vision.

  When it launched its third attack on him Grayson knew he had to try a different approach, swinging his sword in a fast chopping motion he hacked at the things neck once, twice and finally on the third attempt he severed the head from the body. Blood shot out of the ragged stump as the arterial spray hit as high as the gilt ceiling.

  Adrenaline still surging through his body he stayed at the ready, half expecting the creature to get up again but thankfully this time its decapitated body remained still. On rubbery legs, Grayson staggered over to Laurie and placed two fingers to her neck, he felt for a pulse though he knew it was useless. Her body was still warm, but Laurie was as dead as he had assumed. Taking his fingers from the blood slicked area of her neck, where her pulse no longer beat; he turned away leaving Laurie’s body where he had found her. There was nothing he could do for her anymore; and he had to find someone who would know what the devil was going on. Rotating on his heels, he took off down the hallway, leaving the carnage behind him.

  A door opened on his right, and Sussex turned eagerly to find another person in this madness. A whore started jerkily out the doorway straight into his arms, and Sussex on instinct, caught her, only to push her away quickly as he heard the same snarling death rattle as before. She landed on the floor but quickly scrambled to her feet and came at him once again. Her eyes were glazed over with the same white film as the man before her and he recognized her as a Courtesan named Rose. Sussex had sampled her wares a time or two, but there was no recognition in her eyes for him now; only the same blood hungry gnashing of teeth.

  “Rosie; it’s Sussex. Stop, please stop!” He pleaded with her but she still kept coming, and he was left with no choice but to take up his sword and allow her to impale herself, in self defense. He had prayed fervently that seeing the sword her course would detour but it had not. The blade rammed securely in her chest, seemed to make no difference to her despite the fact that he knew he had made direct contact with her heart. She stood at the end of his sword, snarling and snapping at him. Again it was the same as the creature from before; only harder for him this time as she was someone he had known and a woman at that. Shakily Sussex used the full force of his strength to push the blade deeper into her body using her backwards momentum to pull her off the blade on her way down. She was bleeding heavily and fell to the ground; the force of Sussex’s strength sending her petite body reeling. Sussex prayed she would stay down this time, but ignorant of his silent pleas, she scrambled to her
feet with a snarl and flew at him again.

  “Fuck!” Sussex cried out in horror at his own actions as he swung the sword to defend himself, connecting with her neck. Two hacks this time, one less than before and she lay motionless upon the floor in a rapidly spreading pool of blood. Sussex stared numbly at the body, he was no cold blooded killer, but these things were unnatural.

  Cutting off their heads seemed to the only way to kill them. His stomach once more rebelled on him at the idea, and he wished that he had not had so terribly much to drink the night before.

  Ducking into the room Rose had just exited, he scanned the area for anything else that might rise up and attack him, but it was empty; locking the door he leaned heavily against it, heart pounding wildly as he tried desperately to catch his breath. His mind was an infinite jumble of barely coherent thoughts.

  What he had witnessed was impossible, but he was no lunatic and it had certainly been real, for the blood still stained red upon his sword and hands. Grabbing a handful of the bedclothes, Sussex wiped the blood from his sword tip. Rosie was dead now and wouldn’t care. Removing the blood made him feel somewhat better, though the metallic scent of it still remained to haunt him.

  Going to the window, he glanced out surreptitiously at the London street below, it was absolute bedlam. Horses ran amuck across the square, carts were tipped over, and blood, so much blood, stained the street where dead bodies littered the road. Worse; those soulless creatures seemed to roam wild everywhere. He watched in horror as a woman ran down the street screaming as a horde of the beasts chased her mercilessly. She stumbled and fell upon a loose cobblestone, and the group made up of six or seven of the beasts were upon her.

  They dragged at her with their hands each one trying to pull a different part of her towards itself as they chewed ravenously upon her; their jaws sinking into tender flesh and ripping. Her white dress quickly became stained with her own blood as she was torn bit by bit. Her struggling ceased after only a few moments, and he knew without a doubt that she was dead. Staggering away from the window in abject horror, he vomited upon the floor; the alcohol from the night before burning his throat raw as it made its way back up.

  When at last he could heave no more; he pulled himself up, sides aching, throat burning and drawing a handkerchief from his pocket wiped vigorously at the stray moisture streaming from his eyes before noticing the tissue was stained pink from the blood still upon his hands; he crumpled it in a ball and tossed it aside in revulsion. Skirting the pile of refuse upon the floor, he stumbled over to a chair and threw himself down, feeling weak and shaken.

  Head in his hands he could still see the woman being torn apart when he closed his eyes, he allowed panic to overtake him momentarily. This could not be happening. It was impossible! But how then, was the proof of it before his very eyes? The questions continued to torment Sussex, his mind temporarily giving way to madness. They were killing people and eating them. The idea of vampirism briefly flitted through his mind though he immediately dismissed it. They did not seem to be drinking the blood so much as ripping and tearing at the flesh of their victims. Besides, it was broad daylight and if the stories could be believed vampires could not walk about in the sun. The idea was absurd but no crazier than the grim reality.

  Grayson composed himself slowly, drawing on the steely determination of his ducal training; he got up once more, walking over to the window to where the creatures were still stalking about out there. He counted a dozen or more in the immediate vicinity and far more further up the street, where they appeared to be pillaging a tipped over carriage. He watched, sickened, as the group pulled a man from the bowels of the carriage and began to feast upon his flesh. He fought valiantly for a moment, swinging his fists, he connected with a couple of them but there were simply too many. Sussex let the curtain fall back into place; the man had looked very much like the Earl of Darling. Christ.

  He shut his eyes, but he could not block out the agonized shrieks of pain that seemed to be ripped from the Earl, just as surely as his flesh.

  He had to get out of here. The thought struck him, and it was an unpleasant one. He was not convinced he would be able to push himself to leave the safety of this room to face those ravenous hoards.

  Where would he go? His townhouse was only across the square, a short interval under normal circumstances; today however…He eyed the distance dubiously. He had to get to his house, perhaps his servants were still there? Maybe one of them would be able to tell him what was happening…, or his servants were all dead, and he would soon be facing the blood thirsty lot of them. If all the creatures between here and there, didn’t get him first that was. The thought was not a pleasant one, but it was as good of an idea as any. The alternative being he could stay in this room and die slowly of starvation; smelling the stink of his own vomit until his last miserable breath. At least he had his sword; he would not be completely incapable. He gripped the sword so tight that his knuckles upon it blanched and turned white. He crept towards the door, perspiration popping out to bead upon his forehead as he strained his ears for any sound of movement from the other side. He heard none that he could observe, so with courage he did not genuinely feel he opened the door, tensing to strike at any forthcoming attacks.

  No one came rushing into the room after him; the hallway was deserted except for the beheaded body of the prostitute. Grayson averted his eyes as he gingerly stepped over her remains. It was best not to dwell on it when he had to remain focussed on his own survival, hers was a moot point. Ears perked for the slightest movement or sound he crept down the hallway. He was ready now, after witnessing the horror from the window, he would not hesitate to strike, man or woman; a quick, clean beheading was what was in order for any creatures that crossed his path now.

  No one attacked as he made his way to the stairwell and crept across the deserted foyer towards the back of the house.

  Blood stained the carpet in large gruesome puddles, so large that Grayson knew whoever had been attacked could not possibly have survived. The whole place looked as though it had been ransacked, picture frames were knocked from their hangings, a large hole had been cracked in the plaster that looked as though a body had been slammed into it with too much force. A smashed vase of flowers completed the havoc; Grayson had to look away from the blood that splattered the strewn stems of rosebuds.

  The suspense was nearly his undoing. As nothing continued to happen his nerves began to fray. Constantly expecting something to jump out at him was far worse than actual combat.

  A scraping sound to his left had Grayson swinging his sword in that direction as his eyes searched the gloom. He saw a man with his back to him, garbed in footman attire, bent over the corpse of a scantily clad woman in a dark blue gown. The creature was greedily feeding off the remains, and Grayson crept forward as silently as he could and swung his sword with one angry heave, knocking the beasts head from its shoulders. Its body stayed squatting as it had been moments before its death until gravity took over and it toppled across the corpse of the savaged woman. Thankfully, this woman was not someone that Grayson had known in life; though it made it no less sad. Grayson shuddered and kept going. He quickly crossed a long corridor and found himself inside the kitchen. This area was foreign to him, and the fear of an attack in this unknown venue caused his skin to prickle in unease.

  A faint sound had him spinning to stare at a large wooden door that presumably led to a pantry. He really should just leave the creature in there and continue on his way… Grayson tried to talk himself into the most reasonable action, but he felt an overwhelming urge to kill as many of these bastards as he could find to avenge Laurie, Rose, and Darling and all the other innocent people he had seen slain on the street. Creeping to the pantry door; Sussex flung it open and dove inside, preceded by his sword.

  A young maid gave a terrified squeal and shut her eyes tightly against the sting of the impending blade. It didn’t come. Grayson quickly noted her normal appearance and lack of white eye film and
jerked his sword; twisting his hand at the last moment so that his sword lodged harmlessly into the wall beside her. The girl was still covering her eyes in terror, as though not being able to see the problem could protect her. It was a foolish notion, but he could see from the streaks of tears that escape between her fingers that the poor thing was terrified.

  “Sorry about that.” Grayson spoke awkwardly reaching out he patted the woman on the shoulder in an uncomfortable effort to sooth her. She shied away from his touch.

  “You aren’t one of those things?” The young woman asked suspiciously, pulling her hands away from her eyes to glare at him.

  Grayson shook his head. Hadn’t this woman noticed the differences between those creatures and real people yet? Even he had, and he had only encountered three of them. Swallowing his annoyance, Grayson reminded himself that she was young and a servant at that.

  “Of course not.” He snapped, instantly regretting his waspishness and made a concerted effort to keep his tone even, in an attempt to sound reassuring. The girl visibly sagged in relief.

  Grayson turned away, intent on resuming his mission back to his townhouse. He heard a faint rustle behind him and realized with a start that the girl was following him.

  “Where are you going?” She asked boldly stepping further out of the pantry. She was younger than he had originally placed her. Perhaps twelve or thirteen and it made him wonder what a girl so young was doing in a den of iniquity like this? He only hoped her position here had strictly been serving in the kitchen.

  “I have to get to my house across the square.” Grayson answered in a clipped tone, his eyes hastily surveying the room for any sign of an impending attack.

  “Can I come with you?” She was already following him; why the hell not? Sussex decided and nodded his head for her to follow him. His conscious would not have allowed him to abandon the child anyway.