Vampire Bite (English Werewolves Book 1)

by M. D. Bowden

  The rock I am sat on is under the shelter of a tree, providing some relief from the warmth of the day. I am wearing black trousers, which don’t help keep me cool in the sun, probably a mistake, but I like the protection these ones bring—they are durable and prevent me getting scratched by brambles in the woods, or thistles on the moor. They also have plenty of pockets, useful for storing bits of my survival gear, and fit well with the belt which holds my weapons.

  I pull out my history book and force my eyes back to the page once again. I scan the lines, seeing the words, but not absorbing their meaning.

  I hear a rustle in the trees and glance back towards its source, but can’t get sight of what caused it. It was probably a deer, or maybe just a large bird. I crane my neck around, trying to verify my suspicions, but am unsuccessful.

  I look back at my book but feel a prickle of unease as I do, and glance around again. I shake the feeling away, not wanting to be paranoid, and focus back on my work.

  When the light starts to dim under the trees, I know it’s time to stop what I’m doing, and give up hope of catching a second rabbit. I scoop up the left-over carrot as I don’t want to waste it—I can feed some to our pig at home—and take a sip of water from my bottle, before making sure everything I brought is back in my bag and on my back.

  I return to the cave and retrieve the rabbit from the metal box, and add that to my possessions in my pack, before starting my trek back towards Okehaven, and my home.

  I follow the stream uphill until I’m out of the trees, and prickly gorse borders the path instead. It becomes steep and I take care as I clamber up rocks, until the path becomes level again.

  I look out across the valley ahead as the sun starts to set, and the sky is streaked with red. I speed up, eager to reach the main path—the old road—before night sets in.

  The old road is still some way ahead.

  As I start to descend into the valley I hear a scuffling in the bushes. I can’t help but glance nervously over my shoulder.

  Trees cast shadows behind me and, even if there is someone there, it would be easy for them to blend into the landscape, for me not to notice.

  I keep going, starting to feel weary, and hungry, and I try to ignore my fears. I am used to walking by myself at night, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t bother me. It’s not hard for some small thing to trigger my imagination to go into overdrive, and then the fear starts to escalate.

  I take a deep breath, determined that won’t happen this time.

  When I reach the place to cross the stream I eye up the bridge. It almost looks safe, but the wood is crumbling so I decide not to risk it.

  Instead I tread carefully through the water, making sure I step in the shallowest places so it doesn’t go over the top of my boots. They are leather, but treated well, so pretty good at repelling water.

  I reach the other side and place my hands on my knees as I climb another steep hill. I’m struggling for breath as I reach the top and stop for a break, looking back behind me as the sun finally disappears over the moorland horizon.

  Nothing else has given me cause for concern and, despite the approaching darkness; I am feeling a little more confident. As I set foot on the old road I start gently jogging to get home faster.

  My dad will be back soon, returning from Exeter by train, and he will be hungry too as today he had to work late.

  My thoughts turn to preparing the rabbit and making a stew, and my stomach rumbles with hunger.

  As darkness surrounds me I start to ascend the final hill before home. My father and I live right on the edge of town. Where we live it almost feels like a hamlet, or small village, as the houses are widely spread and everyone has large gardens.

  Further into the centre of Okehaven the houses are more tightly packed, and people struggle to grow enough food to supplement what they can afford to buy.

  The train station is in the centre so I won’t cross paths with my dad until we meet at our cosy house. I can’t wait to get there now, to take off my pack and stretch my shoulders, but I am getting tired so I slow my pace, and once again recover my breath.

  As I round the final corner, before I will see my home, something grabs me from behind. I instantly panic. An arm firmly wraps around both of mine, pinning them to my side, at the same time as fingers cover my mouth so I can’t shout out.

  I struggle silently, trying to get my arms free, but my breath halts in my chest when I see a shadow cross the dimly lit path about a hundred metres ahead.

  I freeze, but although I’ve stopped struggling, I am not let free.

  I see another shadow materialise from behind a tree, and yet another come out from behind our neighbour’s house.

  I strain my eyes to see clearly, my heart pounding in my chest, not knowing if I’m in danger from the shadows, or from the person restraining me.

  At least whoever is holding me doesn’t seem bent on causing pain, so I decide to hope they are trying to keep me safe.

  Then I spot my father’s head as he rounds the hill, and his body comes into sight as he nears our front path.

  I start to struggle again, but am held even tighter.

  Dad looks content, unaware of the danger. I want to get to him, to whisk him inside and away from the shadows.

  I try to shout through the fingers that are over my mouth, to warn him, but before a sound starts to rise in my throat, a fierce whisper stops me.

  “They’re after you, stay quiet.”

  No sound leaves my lips, but as the first shadow approaches my father, I can just see his face turn to fear. Some kind of exchange occurs, but I can’t hear what is said.

  I see my father step back, but another shadow is behind him.

  I resume my struggles, trying to move forward, to help, but another whisper cuts me off.

  “They are too dangerous, you can’t do anything to help,” and then a gentler whisper of, “I’m sorry,” as the shadow behind my father steps up to him and draws a blade across his throat.

  My eyes widen as blood spills and my father crumples to his knees, then falls flat on his face. I hear a crunch as his glasses break, and shock pervades my system.

  I am still, my throat feels cut too, I can’t think, function.

  I see the shadows, wraiths, return to the corners and nooks surrounding my house, as whoever is holding me pulls me further away, until I can no longer see my house, can no longer see my fallen father.

  That’s the end of this sample, but Gateway to Faerie is available to buy now on Amazon!

  By M.D. Bowden

  English Werewolves:

  Vampire Bite

  Hunters Among Us:

  Tempted by Fire

  Fighting the Flame

  Gateway to Faerie:

  Gateway to Faerie

  Bell Stone

  The Werewolf Hunter Chronicles:

  Silver Stake

  The Two Vampires:

  Dark Wine

  Dark Blood

  Dark Love

  Dark Moors

  Dark Flame – A Short Story

  Dark Heart

  Short Stories:

  Blood Stream

  Graveyard

  Non-Fiction by M.D. Bowden:

  What’s It Really Like? Pregnancy & Birth