The Blood Red Rose

by Mark Stewart

  THE DUNGEON walls were wet from condensation. The air smelt stagnant and felt cold. Rats scurried about in their hundreds searching for food. The moment the rodents heard noises descending the uneven stone steps, they sprinted for their many hiding holes for safety.

  A group of four hooded figures, each carrying a lit kerosene lantern momentarily stopped at the bottom step before walking further into the dark depths of the cavern.

  Haleton watched every movement the black hooded figures made through swollen eyelids from the punches he received while tethered to the worn pole in the town square. His thoughts fell on Crompton, wondering how he could be feeling. Haleton lost count of the number of kicks he received, and he knew of many prisoners who have had to endure torture. Most didn't survive. He never wanted to see the worn poles again.

  The faces of the hooded figures remained hidden while they walked around Haleton and Crompton. Their chantings were low, eerie, ghostlike noises. Every syllable seemed to bounce off the dungeon walls. When one of the hooded figures accidently stepped too close and giggled, Haleton was alerted to the fact it might be a woman.

  He studied the figure's shape and movements. The person looked to be the odd one out. The figure looked noticeably shorter than the other three. It seemed to bounce slightly compared to the others as it followed the one in front. Haleton took to studying the walk of each one of the four hooded council members. He decided the person who giggled was a woman. The longer he studied her movements, the more convinced he felt. He needed to find a way to speak to her. If only he could remove her hood, he'd know if they'd met before.

  Haleton glanced across at Crompton. The man wore a smirk as he licked his swollen lips. Dry blood stained his shirt. His eyes were half shut. Both his ears were thicker than they should have been. In the semi-darkness, Haleton could tell he received a good bashing.

  For a couple of antagonistic minutes, each of the black hooded figures stood in front of the prisoners before walking off. Haleton couldn't hold back his curiosity.

  "Hello there," he whispered to the last of the hooded figures. "Please, tell me your name."

  The woman lifted her head slightly. Her lips parted to reveal a friendly smile. "You should know me, I'm Rose-a-lee Cantala," she whispered.

  "I thought it might be you," Haleton lied. "You have to help me. You know me well enough to believe I'm innocent. We go back a long way. Remember? Search your heart you'll know I'm correct."

  Giving no sign of a response, Rose-a-lee Cantala walked to the opposite side of the dungeon and stood at a small oval shaped table. A blackened edged gold chalice and two small gold cups were in the exact middle.

  Haleton started thinking their situation might soon get a whole lot worse.

  Rose-a-lee Cantala looked to be busy preparing a drink. The other three figures walked over. They spoke first to Haleton then to Crompton.

  "You show no remorse over your choice to be corrupt. You sealed your fate years ago by walking down the wrong path. One day you will wish you were never born."

  "I'm innocent of all charges," insisted Haleton, coughing up blood.

  One of the three raised his hand to signal for silence. "Your fate has been sealed. It makes no difference which way you plead. Your sentence will be carried out immediately."

  The three hooded figures drifted off to the table where they stood waiting, their hands buried inside the sleeves of their black robes. They watched Rose-a-lee pour the bubbling white liquid from the chalice into the cups and place them back on the table, allowing the brew to cool.

  "You can't make me drink that," spat Haleton, squirming.

  Crompton echoed his concern. "What is it anyway, a poison?"

  One of the four council members side-stepped, signaling both prisoners to be quiet. "This is far worse than any poison. Your incarceration is all thanks to the scientist who makes up one of our council members. She has perfected the formula to transform anyone we choose into a vampire. I'm not about to disclose the formula. To put the explanation into simple terms so even you two can understand, listen closely to what I have to say."

  After spitting a mouthful of blood at a rat who felt brave enough to walk out from the shadows to smell the prisoners, Haleton glared at the man facing him.

  "In the thirteenth century, Transylvania sent a package. It took seven months to reach the shores of England. Many crewmen lost their lives battling through no less than eleven storms. Upon arrival, the council of science took delivery of the package and the official letter. In it, the people in countless villages sacrificed many lives in an attempt to extract a sample of blood from a vampire. The creature of the night sneaks into many bedrooms places the young women into a trance, bite's their jugular vein and sucks the blood from their bodies. When the full moon has risen to its highest point in the night sky, each new victim will be transformed into a vampire. The posse they quickly formed to eradicate the vampires whose numbers seemed to be doubling by the month looked destined to fail before it began. Several brave men stepped forward, volunteering to collect a bile sample and then sent to us.

  After the villagers had collected the vampire bile, they signed the letter in their quest to persuade us to help exterminate the vampires. Four hundred plus years later science has achieved the impossible. Although our ancestors failed to discover the exact antidote which kills the beast living inside a human, we the council of four have discovered something new. We have decided to use this knowledge to our advantage to go one step further. It is a branch or offshoot from the ancestry line of the Transylvanian vampire. Personally, I think it was a stroke of genius. The only difference; there is no antidote for this new strain of vampire. One part of the formula is from the vampire's venom and a mosquito's abdomen. Of course, there is more to the formula than what I've stated. At this time, you have no need to know it. The combination of two main ingredients in exact proportions has given us the perfect solution to rid all evil doers from our society."

  "How is this possible?" questioned Haleton.

  "Sounds too barbaric to be true," growled Crompton. "It must be a joke. You're trying to trick us into a false hope. It's the ultimate taunt before you watch us die."

  "We the council of four have discovered special properties in the vampire's blood. Careful examination after the death of a captured vampire, adding a few minor adjustments through genetic manipulation, plus several additives we threw into the mix and years of painstaking trials on various humans, we have finally succeeded in creating a potion which is one hundred percent effective," explained another of the council members.

  The woman of the group sidestepped next to Haleton. She waited for the other three in the group to walk back to the table before lifting a long slender finger to her lips. She leaned close to his ear, whispering. "I can't stop the ceremony from taking place. What I can do, is, in the years to come, discover the antidote so that you will be free from the curse. Remember the following name and numbers. Haleton it's your only chance to have an early release from the curse. His name is Priest P.T. Macularta. You can trust him. There's one more thing, whatever you do don't forget the numbers '777.' Find Macularta even if he's dead."

  Haleton tried to look past the large hood so he could see her eyes. "Please, let me see your face."

  The woman shook her head. "No. I must confess I have always loved you. I have always believed you were an honorable man." She bowed her head before marching briskly over to the table to join the others before they looked around the semi-lit dungeon for her.

  The four nodded at each other. In single file, they started to slowly stroll around the dungeon, chanting. Their circles tightened slowly. Every few steps they hesitated long enough to stare at the two prisoners and curse the ground they stood on. Eventually, they stopped walking and faced the accused.

  Three out of the four pointed their finger at the faces of the two prisoners while the woman peeled off to collect the two gold cups from the table. She handed one to a fellow council member who in turn too
k a step towards Haleton and Crompton.

  When the tallest of the group spoke, his voice sounded monotonous. An ice shiver shot through Haleton's body.

  "These are the rules of the curse. You will hunt and kill no less than one hundred evil souls. Take a life of an innocent, their blood will taste like acid, and you will start at the beginning of the curse again. Stay too long in the year without a kill; you will start over. You will never drink or sleep, only the blood of the guilty will you consume. After each meal of blood, you will be transported through time for the next kill. There is a mirror next to you. Look at your image. The mirror image will reveal a human form. Once you have drunk the vampire blood no more will you see your reflection! Eventually, you will forget how you look. Your blood will run hot until the last evil soul has been consumed. You will crave food, but you won't be able to eat. Love and romance will escape you. The reason for this phenomenon is; you will not be in the same year for more than 48 hours. If you have failed to take the life of an evil soul in that time span, you will start again back here in 1749AD. You will never have a home or offspring."

  "Think about what you're doing," urged Haleton. "This isn't fair; I'm innocent. I beg you, don't do this."

  Haleton looked sideways at Crompton hoping for back up. The grin painted on his cousin's face seemed to invite the torment. His eyes relayed the fact he felt excited at what might come.

  "Alex Crompton and you, William Haleton, will be a hunter by night and a shadow by day. Your bodies will scream, your minds will scream, but neither of you will ever find sanctuary from the curse. You will never die at the hand of a mortal or any other like you who bears the vampire's curse. Look out for them your paths will eventually cross. It is part of the curse. If you are wise, you will know what to do."

  Haleton could feel anger welling up inside him. He didn't care to control it. He yelled at the council of four through bloody swollen lips. "Tell me the number of people you have condemned to this insane way of life? Tell me how many?"

  "Counting you, there are thirteen so far." The tallest member of the council of four faced Crompton. "Don't be alarmed; you're gang has gone before you."

  "You're all insane," hissed Haleton.

  The council member moved his stare back to Haleton. "After each evil soul has been consumed, you will be transported back and forth through time. No two killings will be in the same time zone. This will be your punishment for your crimes." The hooded figure waved his finger at two of the council of four. "Force the accused men to drink the vampire's blood and prepare the special grains of sand. Their judgment is at hand."

  "I'm innocent," yelled Haleton. "I'm innocent."

  Haleton struggled against the chains. His brow broke out in sweat. The violent twisting of his wrists was so powerful he heard a snap. In seconds, the excruciating pain registered in his brain.

  One of the four council members grabbed him by the hair, yanking his head back. Haleton didn't have the strength to fight off the hooded man. He succumbed to the plans of the council of four after dropping to his knees.

  His forearms were twisted up. Using Haleton's own knife, the exposed underneath skin was cut. A small yellow oval object no larger than a grain of rice was embedded under his skin. His left forearm didn't escape a repeat performance. The only difference this time around; the granule looked to have a red center. The gold cup was pushed between his teeth. The vampire blood trickled down Haleton's throat. In a last-ditch effort, he tried to avoid swallowing the liquid by forcing it out of his mouth. For his disobedience, he received a jab in the ribs. The gold cup was then brought back to his lips. Gasping for air Haleton swallowed the liquid. A small transparent jar was placed open end down on his arm. He watched through bulging eyes, the skinny mosquito biting into his flesh. The combination of the bite and the vampire's blood felt like acid as the blood pulsated through his veins. He tried to slow his heart rate by relaxing. It made little difference. His temples started to throb. His head felt like his brain might explode at any moment. Haleton looked up at the council of four through blurred vision.

  The tall man who made up one part of the council of four wore a wide satanic grin. He stepped over to Haleton, jabbing him in the ribs. He lifted the prisoner to his feet by his hair so he could stare into his eyes.

  "Your first year will be 1849AD. Before you try to taunt me into thinking nothing happened and it's all a farce, guess again. Soon your cells will soak up the warm vampire blood, and you will be gone. Take heart in knowing Crompton's turn will take place minutes after you."

  "What did you put in my arms?" Haleton managed to mumble.

  "The grains are the surprise. You'll find out soon enough. Even if you cut them out and throw them away, the grains will materialize exactly where they have been inserted."

  "You could at least tell me what they are?"

  "They have special properties they have absorbed over the centuries. They act as magnets for what lies ahead. Enjoy your trip."

  Haleton's knees gave way when the tall council member dropped him onto the floor. He felt faint. He used his entire strength just to keep his eyes open. The pain in his wrist started burning from the break. He closed his eyes so he could concentrate on his breathing. His lungs ached from the effort. He tried to force a yell, but only a feeble squeak passed between his lips. Thousands of red dots forming under his skin burst, causing blood to trickle down his body to the ground. He could plainly hear the throb of his heart pounding against his ribs. The noise slowly intensified. For a few seconds, he lost consciousness. He dreamt of falling from the edge of a high cliff. Four brave rats starving for food sprinted over to his feet. They started to eat and lick the blood. Haleton didn't have the strength or the willpower to kick them away.

  Haleton glanced across at Crompton. His eyes were bulging, staring across the semi-dark dungeon. Foaming at the mouth his face looked distorted. Haleton grieved for the man until he saw the same evil smirk he always wore. His cousin opened his arms wide towards the council of four. Haleton could barely make out what he was saying.

  "Give it to me. I want the curse. I want it now. Don't leave me in suspense. I want it all." He voluntary drank the vampire's blood and held out his hands for more.

  Haleton shook his head. He came to the conclusion Crompton was insane.

  The council of four started walking towards the stairs. Climbing the rough-cut steps, the flame from the candles that were twisted into the candelabra each member of the council held in their hands danced wildly on their retreat.

  Crompton's stare appeared transfixed on something across the room.

  Haleton followed his gaze. The moment he saw it he pushed his back into the cold, wet metal pole he was chained to. His mouth fell open. His eyes bulged. He yelled. "Rose-a-Lee Cantala, what have you done?"

  He heard no reply.

  The council of four had quickly left the dungeon for the safety of their homes.

  The pinprick of light, no larger than the size of a pin-head, hovered on the other side of the dungeon at knee height. In silence, it began to close in on the two prisoners. Haleton's body started tingling. He fought to stay conscious.

  The orb of light quickly grew. Haleton noted any noise in the room quickly died. He felt as though he'd gone deaf. He fought hard to persuade his mind not to panic. The task drained the remainder of his strength. No sooner did he start to relax when the panic onslaught came back with a vengeance. For the second time, he fought to relax. Even a few seconds would be a blessing. A fifth rat scurried across the floor to join in on the free meal, deciding to gnaw at Haleton's ankle. He managed to kick it against the wall. It and the other four scurried back to rat holes.

  The orb of light started to pulsate. Its smooth sides radiated different colours from one second to the next; red and green then blue. It took the orb seconds to double in size.

  Haleton and Crompton watched their knives, and personal belongings levitate off the oval table. The objects had hovered in the air before both knives sl
id silently back into the men's boots. Crompton's hat dematerialized only to reappear on his head. It sat exactly how he always wore it. Both coats the men owned materialized over their shoulders in a perfect fit. They saw their boots vanish off the table only to reappear on their feet. The bone in Haleton's wrist realigned, knitting together. He felt no pain, only instant healing. The red drops of blood on his long-sleeved shirt and any dirt quickly disappeared.

  Haleton didn't have long to catch up on what was occurring. The orb of light quickly grew to the size of his fist. Small arcs of light resembling fingers shot out from the sides in every direction. The light show seemed hypnotic. Haleton closed his eyes to rid the numbing feeling from his mind. Four numbers flashed into his consciousness. '1-8-4-9.' His eyebrows angled to a point. He could do nothing to shake the numbers from his thoughts. While the clock counted down to zero, the numbers increased in size and intensity. They started small but quickly grew too big bold numbers the colour of the midnight hour. Inside a minute, the numbers were the size of a house. He couldn't stop his mind from fixating on the black numbers. They occupied almost his entire thought pattern.

  Haleton gulped, watching the orb of light close in on the two prisoners. He looked across at Crompton for the last time. He now wore the same satanic grin as the council of four.

  Haleton's yell sounded almost nonexistent. Using his boot, he scraped the ground in an attempt to rectify his hopelessness in making a sound. The growing orb of light swallowed virtually any noise in the dungeon. He could feel his internal temperature changing from normal to red hot. Haleton turned his head so he could look at the stairs. His yell sounded no louder than a croak of a whisper.

  "Rose-a-lee, I'm innocent. Come back and save me."

  Haleton knew from the start of his medical studies it won't be long before his heart malfunctioned, seconds later he'd be dead, so too was his dream of becoming a doctor and a fine surgeon. He only ever wanted to cure the sick and feel the love of a woman.

  Haleton's body temperature suddenly plummeted. He felt cold shivers burn his skin. His heart pounded against his chest time after time. He tried to think of a nice warm place, but again he couldn't manage the feat. He pondered the fact this must be the moment before death. He stood at the door and commenced to knock. For a moment, he wondered why death didn't open the door to let him enter. Why prolong his misery? Was death that cruel he'd play a taunting game?

  The orb of light started to change shape. It went from round to oval. It slowly rose above head height before centering itself over Haleton. The large blanket size object lit up the area engulfing him. The thick heavy chains keeping him a prisoner rattled violently before falling to the ground. For a fleeting moment, Haleton thought he was free. Instead, his feet were glued to the ground preventing him from running.

  Particles from the net of light the orb emitted started to make him feel warm. He watched a rogue particle of light float down from the orb. More tiny particles the size of dust followed the onslaught, embedding in his hands and face.

  Haleton lifted his hands. Through saucer sized eyes he witnessed the start of a metamorphosis. The blanket of light, his hands and arms were pulsating in rhythm. His limbs turned transparent while he watched. His clothes too started to pulsate and disappear before his eyes.

  "What magic is this?" he tried to say.

  The mirror on his right beckoned Haleton to look. He didn't disappoint.

  Haleton focused on the image looking back at him. The figure looked scared. It seemed to be half out of its mind. Surely this is only a horrid nightmare, he thought, giving the image in the mirror a chuckle. It laughed back. His mind went blank. He glanced across at Crompton. He too suffered the same fate. His face lost its outline. For the last time, Haleton studied the image in the mirror. He could barely recognize any features.

  The image staring back at him looked distorted. Haleton saw it disappear.

  The only thing remaining was a wisp of black smoke. In seconds, it too had vanished.

  CHAPTER FOUR