by Philip Henry
Danielle assumed she could apply the same theory to her career. She had decided to become an actress, with maybe a few pop records somewhere down the line. In the beginning it worked. She got the lead in a few plays thanks to the amount of middle-aged male directors. Everyone agreed she was beautiful, but her acting ability left a lot of other cast members rolling their eyes and nodding at each other. She got an agent after half a dozen plays and started getting auditions for TV commercials or a few lines in a sitcom. She found that these people were harder to beguile because you only had five minutes to wow them. They were people that she couldn’t “visit” the night before the audition. She was just another face in the crowd and after one success in a leg-waxing commercial, she told her agent to only put her up for film parts and serious drama. She had a letter of recommendation from the director of the leg-waxing commercial (who no longer wondered what it felt like to be handcuffed to a bed and tickled with a feather duster by a young girl in a French maid’s outfit) and used it as leverage to get a few auditions for movies. Here she encountered another two problems: being interviewed by a panel, and gay directors. It seemed the higher up the entertainment ladder you climbed, the more homosexuals you found. Which was fine if you had talent, but even then, Danielle knew her finest talent wasn’t acting, it was making directors drool and getting them to do what she wanted by doing whatever they wanted.
She kept going on auditions for nearly a year, never once getting a callback. She even considered going back to do theatre but by then a new crop of young hopefuls with stars in their eyes were grabbing the attention of lecherous directors. Danielle went home. She thought she would get a menial job while she reassessed her options and revised her career plan. But she couldn’t get a job. Her years of being the centre of attention had made her arrogant and everyone saw it. No employer was going to hire a girl who looked down on him and looked upon secretarial work as something that only the lowest form of life would contemplate doing for the rest of their lives. So, despite many interviews she remained unemployed. It never occurred to her that she was not liked; she told herself that everyone else was just too stupid to understand her artistic sensibilities. Not even when she couldn’t get a boyfriend, or even a one night stand, did she ever consider that the problem lay with her airs and graces.
The change came one Friday. Her dole cheque had arrived that morning and she had reached such a pit of depression – as much from lack of sex as anything – that she elected to go out that night and get really drunk. She accomplished this admirably and by midnight she was slouched in the corner booth, clothes rumpled and riding up, make-up running and smudged over her face. A strange accent woke her from her stupor.
“How much?” the fresh-faced young man with a crewcut asked.
It took a while for her to answer. “How much what?”
“Just straight, nothing kinky. How much?”
Maybe it was because she had just spent all the money she had to keep her for the next two weeks or maybe she just wanted to feel close to someone, but she did not correct the young man’s mistake. She wondered if she could make back half her dole cheque in one go and told him in a hushed whisper, “Sixty.”
The young man looked like a shopper on Christmas Eve. It was more than he intended to spend but it was too late to look elsewhere.
Danielle gave him a nudge. “And since I like you, you can have something extra on the house. Anything you want.”
That sealed the deal for the squaddie. “You are on!” he said, almost jumping with excitement. That was how Danielle finally managed to sleep her way into a career, the oldest profession there is. The neighbours watched over the following weeks as one by one nervous little boys walked into Danielle’s house and strutting, beaming men walked out. Her house was graffiti’d a few times by the kids on the estate: ARMY SLUT was a favourite, as was an arrow with MILITARY DIVERSION painted next to her door. The biggest piece of graffiti ever done was a huge white H with a circle round it, painted in her back yard.
A few of them got rough with her – never the first-timers, but some of the older lads abused her not out of anger, but as part of the sex. She had had one such client that day and he had punched and kicked her during and after the act. He had then paid and said he would be back same time next week.
Danielle had been unable to get off the floor for a few hours. He had kicked her back quite severely with his boots on and she was in terrible pain. She had cried and then she had wondered how she had got to this point in her life. She hated herself. She hated that everyone knew what she did. All the people of Portstewart that she had spent so long trying to impress now looked at her like she was gutter trash. What made it worse was Danielle knew they were right. When she had found the strength to walk again that evening she had gone to the old car park – what the school kids of her time used to call The Source – and stared down at the icy water below. One step would do it. The water was cold enough to kill her on impact. No one would mourn her. No one would care. She looked down at the black water below and closed her eyes. She leaned forward and allowed herself to fall.
Xavier saw the girl fall. He raced upwards and caught her. He hung in mid-air with the girl in his arms. She was unconscious. The fear must have made her faint, or maybe she had intended to jump and had taken some pills to make doubly sure. Xavier looked at the neck of the woman who wanted to die. If she never awoke she would never know what had killed her. For all she knew the sea could have claimed her as she intended. It was the closest thing Xavier was going to get to not committing murder.
A siren cut the air above them and Xavier flew gently upwards ‘til he could see the promenade. It was an ambulance. It stopped next to a pub with a staggering drunk outside. It looked like he had been thrown out and had decided to punch in the window as revenge. The ambulance men followed him up the street trying to coerce him into the back of the ambulance. Xavier looked down again at the pulse in the girl’s neck. He could imagine the sweet taste as it trickled down his throat. He pressed his lips to the girl’s neck and let them rest there. Now he could feel the pulse against his lips. It was so natural he didn’t even feel his teeth puncture the skin. Soon he was invigorated and strong.
The ambulance men finally got control of the bleeding drunk and ushered him to the ambulance. To their surprise they found the gurney already occupied by a young girl. One of the ambulance men jumped inside and took her pulse. He turned to his colleague and said, “It’s weak but she’s still alive.”
Xavier had no idea where Kaaliz might be hiding. He decided to check Portstewart first and flew in large circles over the town. Eventually he picked up the scent – faint, but distinctly Kaaliz. Surprisingly the trail led to the ruins of his burned down home. Whatever had happened, Xavier had missed it. He waited high enough in the air so he wouldn’t be seen. There was the wake of some fight below him and people were talking, organizing. There were some children, two guys in black and a woman in a wedding dress that looked like…it was Lynda! Xavier instinctively flew a little higher to be doubly sure he wouldn’t be seen or sensed. What was Lynda doing here? Could it be that when he become a vampire again it had reinstated the dhampir powers in Lynda? That was something he hadn’t even considered. Chalk up one more person who was going to try to kill him. Unless he could convince her otherwise.
Xavier followed the car when it left. Lynda was leaving the children home. The last stop was a boy called Hal (Xavier heard his mother shout) and after Lynda got back in the car Xavier decided now was the time. He followed the car down the long driveway, lined with trees on both sides. Lynda paused at the gate, checking left and right. Xavier dropped slowly to the ground in front of the car and was illuminated by the headlights. Lynda looked long and hard at him before it sank in. It was Xavier, the root of all the pain and loss in her life.
Frank turned quickly to Lynda. “Another vampire! Do you know him?”
Lynda nodded. “He’s my father.” She unclipped her seatbelt and got out of the
car leaving a bewildered Frank in her wake. She stared at the vampire and for the first time noticed some resemblances in their facial features. The last time they had met face to face Lynda had fainted from a gunshot wound before she could kill him. Now he stood before her, passive and quiet.
“You got married,” Xavier said softly.
“No. I was getting married until you decided to crawl out of hell and ruin everything.”
Xavier nodded at the passenger seat. “That the guy?”
“Is this what you came back for? Did you want to give me away? Want to know where we’re registered?”
“Lynda,” Xavier began uneasily. “I don’t know what you think you know about me but I’m not your enemy. I’m not a bad guy. I’m trying to help and if…”
“Wait!” Lynda interrupted. “Are you going to tell me you didn’t rape my mother and then kill her when I was born?”
“I didn’t kill her.”
“You’re a liar. The Ministry found your DNA at the scene.”
“I was there. Unfortunately I arrived too late to save your mother and grandmother, but I did take care of the vampires that killed them.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“It doesn’t really matter now, does it? There is something worse out there now. I had to become a vampire again to stop it from killing my wife and child. He’s stronger than I’ve ever seen him and there’s this other thing…a kind of super-vampire, that’s pretty near indestructible.”
“So, now you’re on the receiving end. Your family’s in danger. How does it feel?”
Xavier looked at the hate in his daughter’s eyes. “I can’t change the past. I can help with what is on the loose now. There’s two of them. A man and a woman. The man is Kaaliz, the woman must be someone he Made recently. She’ll be the more inexperienced so maybe…”
Xavier was interrupted as Lynda pounced at him. She came down hard and punched the top of his head. Xavier fell to the ground. Lynda was on him and pinned his arms with her legs. “What did you mean when you said you had to become a vampire again?” Lynda asked.
Xavier didn’t struggle. “For the last ten years I’ve been human. That’s why you haven’t had any visions or powers. But something else is going on, something bigger. It feels like all of this has been pre-ordained. Like we’re all being brought into play for a reason and I think it’s to stop what’s happening. And if we’re going to stop it, we’re going to have to do it together.”
“You think I can’t handle two vampires?”
“These aren’t ordinary vampires. Swords don’t penetrate their skin. Stakes don’t pierce their hearts. This is something new and you shouldn’t be so sure of yourself. You won’t win this on your own.”
“I overpowered you pretty easily.”
Xavier threw her backwards and levitated six feet in the air. Lynda got to her feet and ran at him. She launched herself into the air and Xavier had to fly higher to avoid being struck by her flying kick. Lynda landed, turned and looked up at Xavier lowering himself to talking distance again. “Don’t waste your energy on me. I’m no threat, trust me.”
“Trust you?”
“Until this is over…yes.”
“And when it’s over and you go back to killing innocent people and trying to steal babies in the night, what then?”
“If that ever happens…take me down like any other vampire. I’m going now. Kaaliz is still out there causing God knows what kind of mayhem. So, can you put off the vendetta until this is over?”
Lynda’s eyes glassed over and she spoke quietly. “Do you know what you did to me? Do you know what my life has been like because of you?”
Xavier swallowed hard. “Yes, I can imagine and I’m sorry, I really am. If I could make it up to you somehow, I would.”
Lynda hung her head and was silent.
Xavier felt ashamed. This was his daughter and this was the first time he had ever had a conversation with her. He wished he could comfort her. He wished he could be a real father to her, but that would be one bizarre soap opera. Xavier took off his sword and dropped it to the ground by Lynda’s feet. She looked up at him with tears rolling off her cheeks.
Xavier nodded to her and said, “See you on the battlefield.” He gave her one last look and then flew up and was swallowed by the night sky.
Lynda knelt down and took the sword in both hands. Frank got out of the car and hesitantly joined her after looking at the sky for any more vampires. He knelt beside Lynda and was surprised to see her crying. He had never seen Lynda cry any more than a single tear at a soppy movie. She took the sword in one hand and hugged Frank.
“What is it, Lynda? What did he say to you?”
Lynda just cried and held him tighter.
“What, did he threaten you? Why did he give you that sword?” Lynda could only cry as a response. She had rehearsed the moment when she would come face to face with her father a million times and that wasn’t how it was supposed to go. She expected him to be like other vampires; bloodthirsty and snarling with hate. He wasn’t like that at all. When she had him pinned down she had formed a psychic connection with him and felt his sorrow and regret. He was a deeply conflicted and unhappy man and for the briefest second she had wanted to join him. She had wanted to ask him to Make her a vampire so they could get to know each other. The idea quickly left her when she realised that Xavier had not wanted to become a vampire. He had been Made without his consent. He was a victim, too. And if what he said about being human for the last ten years was true, he was a vampire that had cured himself once and might be able to do it again.
She saw that possibility but Xavier was obviously not so optimistic – she knew exactly why he had given her his sword.
unleashed
Nicholl threw a couple more caffeine tablets into her mouth and swallowed them with a can of Red Bull. It had been a hell of a day and it was going to be a hell of a night. She had been asleep less than an hour when the vampire had called her that morning. Rek was having a transfusion to replace the blood Kaaliz had taken and Nicholl had decided it was a good time to get some rest. When the nurse woke her it seemed like she had only just fallen asleep. She had taken the phone call from the vampire and had believed him when he told her where the vampire, Risk, was. She immediately put aside all thoughts of sleep. The vampire was right, though, she couldn’t take Risk on her own. It was time to get some help.
Less than an hour after she made the phone call the Special Operations helicopter touched down on the hospital’s landing pad. She had spoken to Colonel Nigel Ramone and briefed him on what she needed. Sharp-shooters and tacticians were not what she wanted, she needed eight men trained in archery, spear-fighting, swordsmanship and hand to hand combat. Colonel Ramone had worked with the Ministry before so she didn’t have to tell him that she needed men that weren’t going to stand dumbfounded when faced with a vampire. He said he would be there by ten o’clock and he was as good as his word.
Nicholl ran out to meet the helicopter. The wind from the rotors went some way to waking her up. Colonel Ramone helped her inside and the helicopter dusted off immediately and they were on their way to Dempsey’s Island. Nicholl looked around the eight sullen faces that seemed a picture of concentration.
Ramone patted Nicholl on the shoulder. “Agent Nicholl, I’m Nigel Ramone. These guys are the elite, each one of them a specialist at what he does. When we get to the island how do you want to play it?”
Nicholl made sure she spoke loud enough that everyone could hear her. “This thing is strong; much stronger than a normal vampire. Conventional weapons have had little effect so far. If anyone has to fight it in close quarters look for chinks in the armour – weak areas like the eyes and mouth, but that’s only if you have to, understand? I think our best bet for killing this thing is the sun. There’s only a lighthouse on Dempsey’s Island, that’s the only place it has to hide from the light. We lure it, chase it or fuckin’ drag it outside and it should burn like any other vamp.
”
“Three minutes,” the pilot said.
The eight men and Colonel Ramone checked their equipment. Each of them was carrying a sword with a black blade, two grenades, a crossbow and a quiver full of arrows, and a large hunting knife. A bag lay on the floor containing ropes and C4 plastic explosives. Nicholl was impressed. She unsheathed her own sword as the pilot said, “Thirty seconds.” The men braced themselves. Nicholl saw the island, barren but for the lighthouse. The helicopter thudded to the ground and immediately the door was flung open and the Special Ops team filed out quickly. Nicholl followed them and Ramone was last off. Ramone slammed the door and the helicopter took off and hovered a hundred feet above the landing site. The soldiers were running to the lighthouse in standard two by two cover. Nicholl and Ramone followed. The soldiers held at the lighthouse door and waited for Nicholl and Ramone. They all drew their swords or knives and waited for the order.
Nicholl spoke clearly. “No one tries to take it alone. If you see it, sound off.” The soldiers all nodded. “OK, let’s go.” The door was opened with the leading soldier’s shoulder and a flare was thrown into the lighthouse. They came in two at a time, covering all possible attack avenues with their swords readied. Nicholl and Ramone came into the room, illuminated red by the flare, and listened to how quiet it was. Ramone gave two of his men a hand signal and they started to make their way up the stairs. When they reached the first floor without incident Ramone sent two more after them. Then two more. The final two had just begun to climb the stairs when a trapdoor in the floor smashed upwards and Risk leapt from the cellar. He landed hard on the closest of the soldiers. The young man didn’t lose his cool and drove his hunting knife into Risk’s ear and buried it a couple of inches in his head. The other half of the pair lunged with his sword and poked the creature hard in the eye. Risk tried to ignore the pain and lurched for the first soldier’s neck, knowing the blood would make him stronger. Nicholl was suddenly behind Risk and put a noose around his neck. Ramone yanked hard on the other end and pulled the creature off his team member. The other soldiers were rushing down the stairs now. The first two down ran and helped Ramone. They pulled the rope and Risk moved back. The two that had been attacked were now both swinging at the creature with their swords. Risk was getting hit often but not being hurt much. The four remaining soldiers came off the stairs: two joined the fight and two joined Ramone. Risk was being edged to the door slowly. He was holding his own against being dragged but he couldn’t defend himself against all the swords that were being thrust at him and some were actually causing damage to his face now.
