by Amy Cross
***
“Edgar, no!” she shouted, sitting up suddenly as the dream ended.
Her heart racing, she looked around and for a moment she had no idea what was happening. Finally, however, her thoughts settled and she realized she was still up on the roof of Edgar's mansion, with a late summer moon hanging high in the sky above. Naked and wrapped in nothing more than a blanket, she got to her feet, and slowly memories from the night came back to her. She had made love to Edgar Le Compte on the roof of his house, naked in the warm night, but now he was gone.
Spotting her discarded clothes nearby, she quickly got dressed. Her mind was racing with memories of the extremely vivid dream she'd just experienced, and also with thoughts of her passionate evening with Edgar. Whereas she had in the past experienced several dreams about sleeping with him, this time she knew with no doubt whatsoever that it had been real. He had entered her body, made her feel things that she thought she would never feel again, and now she had no idea what she was going to say to him the next time she saw him.
“I have to get out of here,” she told herself, filled with embarrassment. She had sworn for so long to shut herself off from love and sex, but she felt her defenses being broken down.
Hurrying to the door, she made her way back into the mansion.
III
“I'm telling you,” Tom Ward muttered as he pulled the door shut and finished buckling his belt, “there was something weird about that Alice Marco girl. Something just... not right.”
“I never thought I'd hear you complaining after getting a bit of tail,” Nathaniel replied with a smile as he picked up a candlestick from the nearby dresser. “I reckon this is solid gold,” he added. “Once Le Compte's dead, we need to get a cart or something and just clear the whole place out. Haul it away, melt the whole pile down and then sell it on. I mean, screw the money we're getting, that's nothing compared to all this stuff. I know a guy on the mainland who'll give us a tidy little sum, and he knows better than to ask questions.”
“You heard from Cavaleri?” Tom asked.
“Nah,” he replied, as they made their way along the corridor. “Let her run around and do whatever she wants. I've gotta be honest, though, I don't exactly have much faith in her. I reckon if anyone's killing Le Compte tonight, it's gonna have to be us.” He stopped at the top of the stairs. “Which is fine with me. A deal's a deal, and I don't mind getting my hands dirty.”
“Did you hear something?” Tom replied, turning to look back the way they'd just come.
“Like what?”
“Like... I don't know, just something moving.”
“Are you sure the Marco girl was dead?”
“Totally. I mean...” He paused. “I knocked her down pretty good and left a pretty big dent in the side of her head once we were done with her, and then I cut her throat. There's no way anyone could survive that, it's just... I swear I just heard something just now, like something in the corridor behind us. I know you probably think I'm nuts, but I swear I heard it!”
“I don't see anything,” Nathaniel replied, lighting a new cigarette as he glanced back the way they'd just come. “Nah, there's nothing. Pretty spooky place, though..”
Smiling, he led Tom down the stairs and into one of the high-ceiling reception rooms, where a grand piano sat in a patch of moonlight that came streaming through the window.
“Nice,” he said, heading over to the piano. “If we didn't have to keep so quiet, I'd give it a whirl. Believe it or not, my Dad made me take lessons when I was a kid. Twice a week I got packed off to some old biddy who tried to get me to learn scales and crap like that. I guess the old man thought I might actually amount to something in this crazy world. He still might be right, just not in the way he assumed.”
“It's disgusting,” Tom replied, making his way to the piano and lifting the lid to reveal the strings inside. “People like Le Compte have got so much money, while hard-working men like us have to scrabble around in the dirt. There are people starving out there while Edgar Le Compte spends hundreds of thousands on a goddamn piano!”
“Way of the world,” Nathaniel replied, taking a drag on his cigarette as he turned and wandered across the room, finally stopping at the foot of a huge oil painting that purported to show one of Edgar's ancestors. “The rich stay rich, no matter what else happens. That's all society is, really, or at least western society. No-one with money wants to lose it, so they try to fix the economy so the rest of us stay down here in the dirt. I've been reading about stuff like that, you know. Edgar Le Compte is just another rich little idiot who got a head-start thanks to the money his Daddy left him. Everyone always goes on about democracy, but I'd rather live in a meritocracy. At least that way, you end up with smarter people at the top, instead of these dumb-headed idiots who just happened to inherit a ton of cash from their parents.”
“Sometimes I hate the world,” Tom replied, leaning into the piano to get a better look at the strings. “I might try to find some way to get this thing out of here. I wouldn't mind a proper piano of my own.”
“You play?”
“Not yet. It's just... Well, it's classy, isn't it?”
“Snob,” Nathaniel muttered.
“Can't help it if I wanna better myself, can I?”
Nathaniel smiled as he wandered over to the next painting, which showed another of Edgar's ancestors. “God, they all look the same,” he muttered. “I'm not sure if it's just a strong family resemblance, or maybe something a bit creepier. I mean, with some of these rich folks, the gene pool isn't deep enough to drown a flea. I sometimes think they just like to keep everything in the family, if you know what I mean. There's -”
Before he could finish, he heard a key being struck on the piano.
“Quiet!” he hissed, turning to see that Tom was still leaning into the main part of the instrument. “Don't pluck any of those strings. We still don't know if Cavaleri's got Le Compte.” He turned back to look up at the nearest oil painting. “It's time for a change,” he muttered. “The world needs fresh blood at the top, and if the rich ain't gonna give up their money any other way, it's up to people like us to take it by force. Face it, mate, we're basically an example of evolution at work. Life finds a way, and we happen to be the way. The human is basically, at heart, a criminal creature. Rules are just temporary.”
Turning, he watched as Tom walked slowly away from the piano, heading in his direction across the darkened room.
“Revolution's overrated,” Nathaniel continued. “No-one ain't gonna get nowhere by rebelling against the rich, not in a big crowd with slogans and placards, that just ain't the way the world works. Each man has to have his own revolution in his own heart, keep it to himself and not go telling everyone else, and just go from there. You get what I'm saying?”
He waited for Tom to reply, but after a moment he realized that something seemed strange about the way Tom was walking, as if he'd become stiff and awkward.
“You okay, mate?” Nathaniel asked, taking another drag on his cigarette. “I'm being profoundly interesting and philosophical here. Not got nothing to say?”
As Tom got closer, Nathaniel could finally see the look of shock in his friend's eyes. Stopping a few feet away, Tom stared straight ahead as if he was unable to speak.
“What's up?” Nathaniel asked. “Mate, you're starting to freak me out.”
Slowly, Tom turned, as if to walk away, but blood was starting to seep out of a line that ran all the way around his neck. He took a step forward, but he seemed increasingly unsteady on his feet. Reaching up, he touched the side of his neck, as if he was trying to work out what was wrong. Finally, he leaned forward a little, and that's when his head began to slide forward a little on the stump of his neck, before falling off completely and landing with a sickening thud against the marble floor.
“What the hell -” Nathaniel gasped, stepping back as he watched blood erupting from Tom's neck, before the decapitated body slumped to the floor and landed next to the head.
Looking over at the piano, Nathaniel saw that a single length of wire was hanging over the side of the instrument, dripping blood as if it had been used to slice Tom's head clean off his shoulders.
Looking around the room, Nathaniel expected to stop Edgar Le Compte nearby, but there was no sign of him. The room seemed completely still and silent, yet there was also a slowly mounting sense of dread that seemed to be ringing in the air.
“We...” Tom's decapitated head tried to say, before falling silent.
“Jesus Christ,” Nathaniel muttered, dropping his cigarette as he pulled the gun from his jacket and held it up, ready to fire as soon as he spotted Le Compte. Stepping over Tom's dead body, he made his way to the center of the room and then turned in a complete circle, convinced that he was about to be attacked from any angle. “You think you're smart, huh?” he muttered, trying to stay calm even though panic was rushing through his chest and his entire body was starting to shake. “Come and get me then, asshole! Come on, you goddamned rich bastard!”
Realizing that he was too exposed in the middle of the room, he hurried to the door and looked through to the next room, only to see that there was no sign of anyone. Stepping inside, he backed against the wall, with his gun still raised and ready to fire.
“Jesus,” he muttered again, trying not to think back to the expression of shock and surprise on Tom's face as his head slid off his neck. “Okay, screw this, “I -”
Before he could finish, he heard a noise coming from the next room. He listened, and finally he realized that it was a kind of slurping, cracking sound. With his gun still raised, Nathaniel made his way back to the door, and when he looked through to the next room he saw that there was a dark shape on the floor, leaning over Tom's dead body. With so little light, it was difficult at first for him to work out what he was seeing, but finally he realized that a naked man was crouched on Tom's chest and appeared to be bowing down and chewing on the corpse's neck.
“Holy mother of -”
The naked man turned to look at him, and although there was blood caked all over his chin and next, he was still recognizable.
“Le Compte,” Nathaniel whispered, shocked as Edgar stood up and began to walk toward him.
“Your friend had very rich blood,” Edgar said with a smile. “He looked rather gangly and skinny, so I wasn't expecting much, but he surprised me.”
Without answering, Nathaniel pulled the trigger, shooting him in the chest. Edgar flinched a little, but he barely even slowed.
“No way,” Nathaniel gasped, firing again and again, blasting two more bloody holes in Edgar's chest and abdomen.
“Is that the best you've got?” Edgar asked as he got closer. “You break into my home and you kill my manservant, then you assault a young woman who has been living here under my protection, and now you -”
Nathaniel fired three more times, but although each shot hit Edgar's torso, they seemed to have no impact whatsoever.
“What the hell are you?” Nathaniel asked as he fired again, only to find that he was out of bullets. He pulled the trigger a couple more times, desperately hoping that somehow there might be a miracle.
“What do you think I am?” Edgar asked, grabbing him by the neck and pulling him closer. Smiling, he exposed his razor-sharp teeth. “I come from a very, very long line of vampires,” he added, “but fortunately for you, I've already got a fresh meal, so -” With that, he turned and slammed Nathaniel head-first into the wall with so much force that the man's neck instantly shattered. As Edgar turned him back around so he could see his face, blood began to run from Nathaniel's mouth. “Good,” Edgar continued, “you're still alive. Just. That's what I was hoping.”
Dropping Nathaniel to the floor, Edgar looked back through to the other room, where a figure was waiting in the shadows.
“This way,” he said calmly. “Come on, my dear. Of the two men who attacked you earlier and humiliated you in such a coarse manner, I'm afraid only one is still alive. Still, I'm sure you can think of a way to deal with him. Just remember that with his neck injury, he's probably unable to feel anything in any part of his body apart from the head.”
Stepping into the doorway, Alice Marco stared down at Nathaniel. Her clothes had been torn away, leaving her completely naked, and there was blood running down her legs, while the right side of her head had been crushed, leaving one of her eyes bloodshot and partially protruding from its socket. Her neck had been cut open, and blood had flowed freely down her chest.
On the floor, Nathaniel let out a pained gasp as he tried but failed to get up.
“I can't feel my legs!” he shouted. “My arms, anything, I can't move!”
“I don't know what you plan to do to him, Alice,” Edgar continued. “You could simply end his miserable existence, but on the other hand you could also make him suffer. After all, he showed no mercy to you while he was taking what he wanted from your body, so why should you make his death any easier? Just... play with him. Experiment, explore... Find out what gives you the greatest pleasure.”
Crouching next to Nathaniel, Alice looked down at him for a moment, her remaining good eye filled with tears.
“Alice,” Edgar said calmly, “I want you to enjoy this. Trust me, the first kill is always... Well, this might sound like a cliché, but it's true: you never forget your first time.”
“Please God,” Nathaniel gasped, “don't hurt me...”
“Do you hear the fear in his voice?” Edgar asked with a faint smile. “Regard the human animal in all its degraded, pitiful extremes. He doesn't understand what is happening, he still clings to the hope of life. It's almost worthy of respect, but ultimately the human is to be regarded as a source of food and little else. Very few humans ever rise to the level where they're worthy of our attention.”
“I'll give you anything,” Nathaniel whimpered, “just let me go. I swear, whatever you want, it's yours!”
“He's trying to bargain with us,” Edgar continued, unable to hide his amusement. “I simply cannot fathom the human mind sometimes. What could he possibly think he can give us?”
“Anything,” Nathaniel whispered, clearly becoming weaker. “Please, just name it...”
“How does it make you feel to witness this spectacle?” Edgar asked, looking down at Alice. “You were a human until a few minutes ago, and if I might say so, you always struck me as a particularly quiet and timid example of your species. Do you remember what it was like?”
“Why...” Alice paused, with a look of genuine confusion on her face. Reaching up, she gently forced her damaged eye back into its socket, forcing some blood out in the process. “Why do I enjoy his pain? I always used to hate it when people were suffering, but now...” She tilted her head a little. “I feel so cold, but I can sense the heat of his blood.”
“It's a different perspective,” Edgar told her. “It will take some getting used to.”
“I want it inside me,” she continued. “All his heat, all his warmth... I want it in my own body.” She ran a finger along the side of Nathaniel's face, removing some of his blood; as soon as she wiped it on her tongue, she felt a shiver run through her body, and her expression seemed to become more alive. “I've never felt such desire before,” she explained. “It's as if I want it all, even though I know it can never be enough.”
“Savor the anticipation. There's no other -”
Before he could finish, Alice leaned down and bit the side of Nathaniel's neck. As he let out a cry, she closed her jaws on his skin and then began to tear as much away as possible, struggling a little as blood erupted from her victim's severed arteries, spraying her face. Finally she managed to pull the chunk of flesh and meat away, and slowly she began to chew until, almost involuntarily, she swallowed.
“Quick and decisive,” Edgar replied, looking down at Nathaniel's dead body. “I'm impressed, although I can't help thinking that you could have taken a little more time and enjoyed yourself. You could have tortured him for hours. Still, you hav
e time to learn these things.” He patted her bare shoulder. “These things take time.”
“I can't enjoy death,” she whispered, turning to him. “I mean... I shouldn't enjoy it. Why am I still alive? Can't I go now?”
“You want to die?”
“I want this all to be over.”
“Really?”
“I...” She paused. “I don't know, I feel... I feel as if there are two of me. The old Alice is horrified, but at the same time my body feels so different, as if I'm addicted...” She looked down at the corpse again. “My body wants to feed, but my mind wants to die.”
“I'm sorry,” Edgar replied, “but that's simply not possible. You'll have to learn to enjoy your new existence, Alice. I've been rather soft on you so far, but now you're going to have to find your own way. There's so much more to life than most humans realize, and you're only at the very beginning of your journey. Soon you'll understand the great gift that I have given you.”
“But I...” Alice paused, before opening her mouth to reveal the fresh set of sharp fangs that she had grown just a few minutes earlier. “I didn't want this,” she whimpered. “I was happy to die...”
“Tough,” Edgar told her. “After what those men did to you, I only had two options. One was to leave you to die, and the other was this. You might be confused right now, but trust me, eventually you'll thank me for giving you so much power and strength. You have some wonderful sensations ahead, things that no human could even imagine. For now, however, you need to explore your body's new needs. That wretched man's corpse is still warm, so drink his blood. Trust me, you'll enjoy every drop.”
“But -”
“Drink it,” he said firmly. “Do as you're told, Alice. It's the only way you'll ever learn. Stop fighting your new instincts and let them lead you to your new soul.”
Slowly, with fear in her eyes, Alice leaned down and opened her mouth, and finally she slipped her fangs into the side of Nathaniel's neck. As tears ran down her face, she began to draw his blood into her own body, but after a moment she pulled away and started to vomit.
“It feels good, doesn't it?” Edgar asked.
“No, it...” She paused, before looking up at him with an expression of shock in her eyes. “Yes. It feels good. It shouldn't, but it does.”
“Why shouldn't it, Alice?”
“Because it's wrong!”
“You're doing what comes naturally. Sure nothing natural can ever be wrong? You're still thinking like a human.”
“I am human!”
“No. You were, but now I've given you a great gift. Believe me, there are many people out there who have begged for the same, but they were denied. You're on a wonderful journey, Alice, and soon you'll realize how lucky you've been.”
“But...” She looked over at the dark window and saw a hint of her own reflection. Naked and covered in blood, she felt as if she almost didn't recognize herself. With tears running down her face, she began to sob.
“You'll learn,” Edgar muttered, unable to hide the disappointment in his voice. “Keep trying. Don't worry, Alice, I'll teach you everything you need to know. I'll help you explore your new level of existence. I'm sure it will be a fascinating experience for both of us. I only wish I had time right now to watch you devour this wretched human.”
“Can't you stay while I... do this? Please?”
“I have to go and find the ring-leader of this little intrusion. I'm afraid Inspector Cavaleri has made a monumental mistake and I need to punish her. After I find out who put her up to it, of course. She's not capable of getting this far without some help, and I feel that someone is working behind the scenes, pulling her strings. Before I kill her, I need to know the identity of her puppet master.”
Once she was alone, Alice used a trembling hand to wipe some of the blood from her lips. Still sobbing, she stared at Nathaniel's dead body, but although she felt repulsed by the sight, she knew she had to force herself to keep trying. Crawling back over to him, she bit his neck for the second time, and this time she was able to keep going even though she felt horrendously sick. After a few minutes, she began to enjoy the sensation of his warmth filling her body, and she continued to drink until finally his corpse had been completely emptied. Pulling out, she stared at the two fang-marks on the man's neck and she felt herself enjoying the sensation of his hot blood in her cold body. Turning, she looked over at the other dead body and she realized, to her surprise, that her appetite was still not satisfied.
A new soul was rising from her inner darkness. Born in blood and pain, it was filling her with a kind of strength that she had never felt before, and a level of desire – a need to consume others – that felt wrong and right at the same time. Slowly, as she began to crawl over to the other corpse, a faint smile crossed her lips.
Outside, clouds drifted in front of the moon, causing the house to fall into absolute darkness.
IV
“I have to get out of here,” Kate told herself as she threw some clothes into a bag on her bed. “This place...”
Turning to grab some more clothes from the nearby table, she spotted her reflection in the full-length mirror by the door, and for a moment she couldn't help but stare at her own eyes. For almost a decade now, she had felt that she knew her own identity: she was a hard-working academic who avoided the trappings of complicated interpersonal relationships in order to focus on her career, and she certainly wasn't the kind of person to end up sleeping with someone purely because she couldn't control her body. And yet, the memory of her night with Edgar was strong, and the worst thing was that she knew she had enjoyed it.
For a moment, she could feel his touch again, his kiss, his all-consuming passion, and she knew in her heart that if she saw him again, if she let him touch her again, she would want him. No matter how hard she might try to resist, she would let him take her over and over. Having been so strong for so long, she felt that she had finally met someone who could get past her defenses and make her do things she'd regret. That, more than anything else, meant she head to leave, before he changed her completely. For a moment, she considered what might happen if she stayed and pursued things with Edgar: she imagined herself living in the house permanently, sharing his life, trying to build a proper relationship, and for a few brief seconds the idea actually made sense. Finally, however, she realized that it was impossible, not only because of Edgar's personality but also because of her own.
“Don't be an idiot,” she muttered to herself. “You're not the kind of person who can 'do' relationships.”
She spent a couple more minutes shoving everything she could find into the bag. She was leaving some clothes behind, but she figured that didn't matter too much. All she cared about was traveling light, so that she could get down to the port and then jump onto the first ferry away from Thaxos in the morning. Her hands were trembling as she closed the bag, but she knew she had no other choice. It was as if her entire personality was starting to unravel, and she desperately needed to get away from the island. In London, she always knew exactly who she was, but on Thaxos...
In truth, she hadn't quite felt like herself since the day she arrived.
Hurrying out of her room, she made her way along the dark corridor and then down to the hallway. Although the house seemed empty, she couldn't shake the feeling that there were other people around, as if something was happening in the adjacent rooms, something that was being blocked from her perception. Still, she didn't have time to go and check, so she simply stopped in the hallway and grabbed a pen, which she used to write a quick note to Edgar. After all, she felt that she owed him some kind of explanation, but she wasn't sure how to explain her decision. Would Edgar be angry? Hurt? Would he accept her choice, or would he come racing after her, refusing to let her leave? She couldn't be sure, but she knew she had to make a clean break. At the same time, she didn't want to make him feel as if he was to blame, so as she began to write, she told herself to just keep things short:
Dear Edgar, I'm sorry but
I have to leave. Please try to understand. I won't be back. Things have just become too complicated and I feel that last night was a mistake. It's not your fault, it's mine, I'm just not suited to being here. Don't try to contact me, I won't ever be coming back to the island. I hope everything works out for you here on Thaxos. Love, Kate.
After reading the note through again, she scrubbed out the word 'love' before figuring that although it was a simple and basic note, it would be enough, hopefully, to ensure that Edgar would forget about her. After all, she was sure that theirs was just a physical attraction, and that he merely saw her as a distraction. For her part, she was convinced that as soon as she got away from Thaxos, the stirrings in her heart would fade away.
“Goodbye,” she whispered. “I'm sorry if -”
Before she could finish, she felt a tear fall from her left eye, running down her cheek. Shocked, she wiped it away. Having long prided herself as someone who never cried, she felt as if this was another sign that she was losing control of her own identity. For a moment, her heart seemed to beat harder and faster than ever, but the sensation quickly passed.
“Goodbye, Edgar,” she whispered again.
Grabbing her bag, she hurried to the door and then down the front steps. The moon was just emerging from behind a set of thick clouds, and as she began to make her way toward the path that led down into town, Kate happened to glance toward the garden at one side of the house.
Stopping suddenly, she found her mind being drawn back to the vivid dream she'd experienced after making love to Edgar. She kept telling herself that she was imagining things, that it really had been just a dream, but at the same time she couldn't shake the feeling that Edgar just might be capable of doing something so cruel. Checking her watch, she saw that the ferry wouldn't be leaving for several hours, and even though she knew she was taking a risk, she felt that she had to at least check that a man wasn't undergoing extreme torture just a few hundred meters away. No-one with a heart could possibly leave someone to suffer.
Racing across the grass, she finally reached the section of garden that ran along one side of the house. She expected to find nothing of interest, but to her shock she quickly spotted the pipe leading up out of the ground, just as it had appeared in her dream. She told herself that she must have noticed it some other time, that there was no way Edgar would have actually buried a man alive in his garden, but as she got closer to the pipe she saw that it had the same type of opening that she'd seen while she was sleeping. Her heart was racing as she realized that so far, everything in reality was matching the experience of her dream.
Dropping her bag for a moment, she got down onto her hands and knees and listened.
Silence.
She felt certain that if a man was screaming down there in a coffin, she'd be able to hear it by now. Crawling over to the pipe, she carefully lifted the top, but there was still no hint of a person down there. Then again, she couldn't work out what other purpose the pipe might serve, so as she looked down into the dark hole, she found herself genuinely considering the possibility that her 'dream' had truly been Edgar's attempt to tell her the truth. After everything that had happened to her since she first arrived on Thaxos, she was starting to accept that there were some things on the island that she still didn't quite understand.
“Hello?” she whispered.
Silence.
“Is anyone down there? If you can hear me, just give me a sign.”
She waited.
Nothing.
And then, just as she was about to give up, she heard a groan. Frozen, she listened again, but the groan had fallen silent. Still, it had been distinct and clear, and there was no way she could tell herself it had been anything other than the pained sound of a man who was suffering extreme agony. The dream hadn't been a dream at all; instead, it had been Edgar's confession, his way of getting into her mind and showing her the truth.
“Are you there?” she whispered.
Another faint groan.
“Is there someone down there?” she asked, desperately hoping that she was mistaken even though she could already feel herself starting to panic.
She waited, her heart pounding in her ears.
“Help...” a voice whispered suddenly, from the other end of the pipe. “Please... help me...”
