"It was Roanne who taught me differently… sweet, infuriating Roanne, with her Celtic stubbornness and talent for asking bloody awkward questions. I stalked her for her beauty, you know, and turned her to the Blood. Then I expected her to behave like every bad little vampire should but instead she backed me into a corner one day and demanded to know 'why’. ‘Why must we kill? Why must we terrify people?' Suddenly, 'because this is the way we are' became a less than satisfying answer. We are thinking beings, Moon, who possess the ability to sense the pain of others and put ourselves in their place. What a dreadful thing it must be for a person to be hunted and killed by a terror like me! That's what Roanne taught me. She taught both of us: Charli and me. She refused to take on the mantle of the monster and, by doing so, she reawakened the humanity in us both. That was over five hundred years ago - shortly after I was forced to flee from the burning craze that spread through Europe with Charli hiding like a newly hatched fledgling under my wings."
"Are you talking about the Inquisition?" asked Moon, trying to dismiss visions of the Monty Python team in black robes and flying helmets.
"That and the witch burnings, yes. It was never as organised as history might suggest. Much of what occurred happened because the bastards in authority realised that the Church had handed them a legitimate way to steal property from the wretches they accused. Did you know, in many places all the property owned by those found guilty was forfeited directly to the state? It was a terrible time and I feared that Charlotte and I would be hunted down and executed for being exactly what we were: vampires who hid themselves on the edge of human society and preyed on the weak and unwary."
"So you came to England?"
"Yes, where the Church itself was heretical and the madness was less widespread. Then we moved to Wales, where the older ways still lingered and the Church was less powerful still." Moon wished he could publish this - it was potential gold dust. "And you spent the next five hundred years in Wales being ‘good’ little vampires? That's hard to believe."
"It took time, Moon. Once you've begun to think of people as cattle to be bled for food it's hard to teach yourself to believe differently. And I didn't have a good start for that, even during my human beginnings." He lifted his cup and found it empty. "Do you have any more tea?"
"I'll fix some," replied Moon, getting up and reaching for the cup. Unexpectedly, Uri seized his hand in a grip like cushioned steel and forced him to look him directly in the eye. The dancing red shimmer deep in his black on black pupils held Moon's gaze like a vice and teased a thread of terror from his soul. Had Uri just been playing with him - a game to add some flavour to the kill?
"What I am about to tell you could harm not only my ladies and myself but others who are as dear to us as family if it falls on the wrong ears, Moon. If I find that you have broken my confidence I will not be merciful. Do you understand?"
"Y-yes!" yelped Moon, wincing with pain. He sagged with relief as Uri relaxed his grip. For a moment there he had thought he was going to lose his hand. "You could trust me without having to resort to threats. But I suppose you don't know that, do you?" He took the cup and poured some fresh tea out of the pot and lacing it generously with sugar. Hope this gives him cavities, he thought, wringing his bruised fingers. "You were saying?"
"Ah, yes." Uri relaxed back in his chair, his charm returning, like a fleeting cloud vacating the face of the sun. "It wasn't easy but slowly and surely we began to build a circle of close friends around us - people who would let us have what we need out of love and not out of terror. We no longer had to kill our victims to hide our true nature and, over several generations, we built a small enclave of trusted families around us. Two hundred years ago a small group from one of those families moved across the Severn from Wales to Bristol to expand their silversmith's business. We decided to come with them and we live here with their descendants still."
"So there's a family in Bristol who've harboured a trio of vampires for two centuries! And no one's told the authorities or leaked it to the press? That story would be worth a king's ransom to the tabloids."
"Yes, but we are very secure nonetheless. Our relationship with our human friends is a mutually beneficial one. In return for their protection and the occasional donation of blood we offer them our protection. Also, we have invested wisely over the years and we supplement their income handsomely." Uri's red lips curved into a smile of candid affection. "And, of course, we are now family as well. They have all known us from their childhoods; I played with the oldest of them on my knee as a baby and she was ninety-three last birthday. For, it seems, while we no longer turn people to the Blood, something in our bite prolongs life and improves health. Our family members are seldom ill and they all tend to live to a ripe and healthy old age."
Moon pondered what Uri had told him. This sounded far too good to be true. "It sounds delightful but are you sure you're not kidding yourselves? These people could merely be your 'ghouls', is that the word? Could they not just be slaves attending to your needs under the enthralling effect of your bite?"
A flash of affronted anger passed through Uri's pale blue eyes. "That, you would have to ask them yourself but, believe me; we would never knowingly make slaves. Fate transformed us into parasites - so the best we can aim for is some form of symbiosis - but I think we manage to do this very well."
Moon nodded but he wasn't entirely convinced. "I respect your intentions to make good of your situation but there are still a couple of things I'd need to get straight before I'd be willing to take you on face value."
Uri made an expansive gesture that was unmistakably Russian in origin. "I will do my best to answer your questions." The reassuring smile that accompanied this statement was marred by the glint from his three centimetre fangs.
"Well, first… when you came into the Rest tonight every ghost in the place scattered like the devil was after them. That doesn't exactly gel with the 'Father Christmas' image you're trying to sell me, does it?"
"Hmm," Uri nodded. "Vampires are powerful predators, Moon, and we are vessels of great power. I suspect that ghosts sense this and avoid us. You witnessed the sheer force of the spiritual energy that just one of us can release earlier this night, in the graveyard. Considering the depth of a vampire's potency, it is a true sign of your tiny Anna's great love for you that she was willing to stand her ground before me."
"I suppose I'll have to take your word for it," replied Moon. "I never knew that vampires wield such power over ghosts."
"Not many do, except the ghosts of course and who are they going to tell, eh? No, sadly, a vampire is a monster to both the living and the dead. Did you have something else to ask me?"
Moon toyed with his empty teacup and studied the faded pattern in the carpet. "Why the music? You've already implied that you're independently wealthy and you say that you don't need to draw victims to you. By performing you regularly place yourselves in danger. You flaunt your true nature in plain sight… What have you got to gain?"
"Ahh, Moon, there is some virtue to hiding in plain sight but it is also to do with something very important to our existence indeed - belief!" Uri's clasped fingers flew open in a starburst gesture and his eyes flew wide open as his eyebrows raised expressively.
"Belief?" Moon fingered his chin thoughtfully. "You mean you need people to believe that you could be vampires? Why?"
"We may be flesh and blood, Moon, but we are also creatures of phantasm. I think I mentioned earlier that those supernatural imaginings that people believe in over time somehow have a tendency to manifest? This is also true with us. We discovered this when we moved away from Europe and began to live a more benevolent existence in Wales. Our powers slowly began to wane and, after a couple of centuries, we noticed that we'd begun to ‘fade’. There was a sort of thinness to us, nothing obvious but just a feeling. At first I thought we would have to go back to hunting humans or choose to fade away to nothing. But things became clear when Roanne began to change."
"In wh
at way, change?"
"She changed physically. It was almost imperceptible to begin with, but eventually her hair took on a greenish hue. It became coarse and lank and started to grow at an alarming rate. Her fingernails turned bent into blackened claws and her beauty began to fade as her features grew sharper and her eyes became as dark and piercing as a crow's. Even her normally gentle nature gave way to crabbiness and violent outbursts. The poor thing was so distraught at not being able to be herself. The most profound change however was when a small pair of bat-like wings began to grow from her shoulder blades. We thought at first that this was some strange vampiric mutation… Roanne herself was the one who eventually realised the truth. She found herself being drawn to those who were close to death and she started to have premonitions of who would die. 'Oh no!' she cried one day, as she stood in front of the mirror trying to do something with her poor hair.
'I think I know what's happening - I'm turning into a gwrach-y- rhibyn!'"
"A what?" asked Moon. "I'm afraid I don't know any Welsh."
"The gwrach-y-rhibyn is a kind of Welsh banshee. She looks like an old crone but with bat's wings and a foul temperament. After some discussion we realised that because there is no vampire in Welsh folklore Roanne had started to develop the features of the closest Welsh alternative. That was why we decided to leave Wales, for all our sakes. God knows what sort of goblin I would have eventually turned into if we had stayed. Charli had already discovered a pair of tiny black lumps growing between her shoulder blades."
"So your act helps to maintain the belief that you are vampires?"
"Just ’might be’, Moon; that we might possibly be vampires. It prevents us from drifting into the forms of other ‘mythical’ creatures or from fading away entirely. The current fad for believing that vampires are beautiful and sexy helps of course. I wasn't quite so pretty when we were performing stage adaptations of Varney the Vampire and The Cabinet of Doctor Polidori back in the eighteen-hundreds but they served their purpose." Uri paused as if wondering whether to say more then seemed to reach an inner decision. With a brief nod he continued, "There is more to our performing though, Moon, especially since we started to make music together. Our audiences produce a kind of energy that we are able to feed on. An audience becomes a huge group entity, which we can tap into without draining the individuals involved. We have had to feed physically much less since we started the band."
Moon nodded in understanding. "I’ve noticed that some human performers seem to pick up a kind of energy from performing. Perhaps what you're describing is a more concentrated form of that energy. Maybe because you're vampires you're able to absorb it more efficiently."
"Perhaps you're right, Moon. As entities humans span the physical and the supernatural just as we do but vampires do this more completely than you do. This could explain both our advantage in this area, and possibly our weaknesses in other ways."
"One last question," said Moon, "then I'll have to ask you to leave and let me get some sleep, okay?"
Uri nodded. "Okay, I will need to get back to the girls soon anyway or they will worry."
"Why were you following me tonight?"
Moon studied Uri's face for signs of duplicity as he replied. "Moon, I know that poor Dominic is dead. Very little happens around the Rest that we don't know about. We've suspected for a while that someone has been vanishing Goths from the community that gathers at the Rest, but we couldn’t risk exposing ourselves. But, having met you tonight, I thought that you might be able provide us with an opportunity to help."
"Why me?"
"Because of your gifts, Moon." Uri stroked his chin then wagged a long finger at Moon. "I knew you had the Sight the moment we met tonight. I could tell that you knew what I am by the scent of fear that emanated from you when we were introduced. You also watch things that aren't there. It's a bad habit."
"Well, it's pretty hard to ignore them entirely, especially when they're as agitated as they were tonight. One of the old highwaymen was waving to me frantically over your shoulder and mouthing 'vampire' at one point during our conversation."
Uri laughed. "Was that what he was doing? He disappeared very rapidly when I turned round and glared at him while you were in the loo." Then he sobered, regarding Moon steadily over his steepled fingers. "Moon, Dominic belonged to one of our Welsh families. His death makes this business very personal to us… please help us to find this killer."
"Well, I suppose I can try but you and the girls would appear to be the prime suspects at present. You know he had bite marks on his neck?"
"No... no, I did not." Uri seemed to grow even paler if that were possible. "It would seem, Moon, that someone may be trying to implicate us in this murder, assuming they are aware of our true natures."
"Are you sure it's not another vampire?" asked Moon.
"Yes, I would know if one of my dark brothers entered Bristol and besides I think most, if not all of them have been destroyed. I don't think it's another supernatural being either. I haven't sensed that anything unfamiliar has entered our domain recently."
Moon shook his head at the idea that anyone would think to use him to chase down a killer. "I am no detective."
Uri gave a short knowing laugh. "But I think you are as curious as the proverbial cat. You will not be able to leave this alone now you've started pursuing it."
"Looks like you've got my measure," Moon laughed wryly. "Okay, I'll see if I can help."
"Good, I suggest you start with the local ghosts. They may have seen something."
Uri finished his tea then flew off into the night by way of the main window to Moon’s flat, which had opened readily under the vampire's strength. It had been nailed shut years ago and was cemented in place by several decades' worth of paint. Moon hoped he could fix the splintered woodwork before his landlord discovered it. Uri may be a dark and graceful creature of the night but he also seemed one of those people who were doomed to crash through life like a bull in a china shop.
Chapter 10
Moon stood again, paralysed with fear, on the walkway through St Andrew's Cemetery. The Shadow Beast's tendrils constricted numbingly around his throat and he was gasping desperately for air but this time he knew that there was no Uri to save him... Suddenly, a swarm of tiny fireflies appeared out of the darkness. They buzzed around and around and then, somehow, through his head, leaving odd shaped retina burns as they flashed through the substance of his eyes. He awoke with a start and the 'Beast' transformed into part of his duvet cover, which had become wrapped around his neck. The fireflies were real though, the tiny ghostly lights he had seen a couple of days ago now danced above his face like damsel flies over a stream.
"What the hell...?" he croaked. He waved his right hand through the swarm to drive them off but instead his fingers passed through the nearest dancing glow. His mind filled with the tiny mote’s residual memory – the fond recollection of the vile chemical taste of a cocktail of cider mixed with surgical spirit, swigged directly from a plastic bottle. The lingering presence of the memory's owner vibrated with an impish sense of malicious mischief. "Gordy?" he cried out with horrified recognition. "Is that you?" There was no reply but the name 'Gordy' seemed to echo on the air, resonating with the sound of his voice.
The tiny sphere settled on his hand, filling him with craving for alcohol and a sense of ingrained grubbiness, which made him yearn desperately for a shower. The other five also settled upon his recumbent form, bringing with them a mixture of borrowed memories. Moon sat bolt upright, causing the minuscule glows to fly upwards and scatter across the ceiling. "That must be what you are! You're the remnants of ghosts!" He watched as the tiny, pitiful scraps of consciousness returned to him and bobbed excitedly before his face.
"How did you get like this?" he asked. Exe didn’t expect an answer but slowly, one by one, each radiant globe approached his right hand, dipping to touch it as they passed. They each showed him the same memory: a pair of hellish red, glowing, eyes that glowered out from
a cloak of shadowy darkness. The feeling that accompanied this evil vision was akin to his entire being draining down into that darkness like a doomed ship spiralling downward, into a whirlpool. "What the hell was that thing?" he queried, but his visitors made no move to answer. They simply hovered before him radiating a sense of bewilderment.
Some thing was draining the ‘life’, for want of a better word, out of the local ghosts. Despite his misgivings about his gift, he realised that this actually mattered to him. They had come to him because he was the only person they knew who could see them... the only person who could possibly help them. He wished he could deny that responsibility but the sense of desperation radiating from those minute blue sparks had cut him to the quick. "Okay, I'm not promising anything but I'll see what I can do," he muttered, not relishing taking on this 'ghost-eater' face to face. The ghost- balls danced ecstatically around his room in joyful response to his half- hearted decision.
Moon rose at about noon on a Monday in preparation for working at night the next day. He would stay up as late as possible tonight, sleep until one or two in the afternoon then go to work at nine, and from then to Friday afternoon he would be out of touch with the world outside of work. It was tough going for those three days but he liked the extra time it gave him.
He breakfasted and then showered, gratefully washing away the memory of Gordy's grime as he did so. Once clean, fed and ready to face the day he decided to use the early part of the afternoon to type up his interview with Uri and the girls. As Uri's voice took him back to the previous night, he wondered how he should start his investigation into Dominic's murder. Dominic himself had been unable to tell him much about what had occurred before he was dumped in the alley behind the Rest, but perhaps the other spirits there could help. Moon decided that he would pop down to the pub once he had finished drafting his article to see if any of the local spooks were feeling talkative.
Under a Ghostly Moon (Jerry Moon Supernatural Thrillers Book 1) Page 9