[Vampire Babylon 01] - Skarlet (2009)

by Thomas Emson

  A grin started to stretch across the girl’s face.

  Hammond smiled back. He sensed hope, salvation.

  “Yeah,” he said, “you know me, that’s great. Hey, can you help?”

  Her mouth widened into a smile and her lips peeled back, and her teeth showed. Hammond yelled and struggled against his chains. Piss swelled his bladder. His insides churned, and terror crawled up into his throat.

  She hissed at him, and spit sprayed from her mouth.

  She sprang at him and he screeched, not knowing what she was, his brain reeling to find a description.

  “Fucking vampire,” he said, screaming till his throat burned, “fucking vampire.”

  And she came for him and he pissed himself, his urine running down over his belly and chest and neck, into his face.

  A figure shot into Hammond’s eye line, grabbed the girl by the hair, and tossed her aside.

  “Find your own food,” the man said to the girl.

  She hissed at him and scuttled away.

  The man looked at Hammond, and Hammond saw his scarred face and recognized him. He was the guy who came to ask Hammond if he knew any dealers who’d be interested in a free sample; he was the guy who said, “What about this Lithgow? Can we trust him?” And then he realized he was also the guy who’d beaten and burned him when he was half alive earlier on.

  He was the guy.

  Hammond realized how deep the shit he was in actually was.

  He said, “It’s you, it’s fucking you, oh fuck. I didn’t see you, honest, I didn’t see you. I won’t say a thing, please. I won’t, I won’t. Please don’t hurt me, please don’t hurt me again.”

  The scarred man laughed. He made his way to the other side of the trench, where the woman and the cripple still waited. Hammond swung around with him. The scarred man stood near the edge of the pit. He stared at Hammond for a moment, and then glanced over his shoulder at the woman.

  Hammond said, “I’m sorry I broke into your house, man, but it was Lithgow, you know. I can tell you where he lives and everything, but I really, really need a doctor. I’m going to die, man.”

  “Yes you are,” said the scarred man.

  Hammond stiffened. His throat moved, but no words came out.

  The woman wheeled the cripple forward. The cripple opened the bowl on his lap. He held it out over the pit, and spilled out the contents.

  Ash rained down from the bowl and sprinkled the bottom of the grave.

  The old man tossed the bowl into the trench. The woman rolled him away from the edge.

  “W-what’s going on?” said Hammond. “W-what was that stuff? Tell me. Oh, God. Please don’t hurt me, please let me go. I don’t want to die – ”

  “Too late,” said the scarred man, and he whipped his hand across Hammond’s face.

  The hand moved quickly, but Hammond caught a flash of steel.

  Coldness enveloped his body. He tried to breathe, but his throat felt wet and clogged.

  A hissing sound like air leaving a tyre filled his head, and his eyes began to blur.

  He felt so weak, so light-headed.

  He dropped his head and looked above him, down into the pit below him.

  And the blood from his open throat gushed over his face, hot and coppery to the smell, and it spilled into the trench and splashed over the ashes, and the ashes bubbled and hissed.

  Chapter 37

  GUARD DOGS.

  NIGHT crawled over London and the light started to slip away.

  Lithgow said, “It looks empty – let’s leave,” and he turned to go.

  Lawton grabbed his collar and dragged him back. He said, “Safer for us to have a nose around, then.”

  “This is where you got the jar?” said Sassie.

  “This is where Fraser, here, stole the jar,” said Lawton.

  “I didn’t steal it.”

  “You broke in and you stole it, Fraser,” said Lawton.

  Lawton looked up and down the street. Darkness and silence. He gazed up at the house. There were four floors. The windows were dark.

  The place felt empty to Lawton; it felt dead.

  “Okay,” he said to Lithgow, “show us how you got in.”

  Lithgow moaned and led them down the steps. The sash window stood open.

  “That’s convenient,” said Sassie, a shudder in her voice.

  Lawton gave her a look. She shouldn’t have come. He said, “You’ll be all right. Stay close to me.”

  She shuffled up to him, pressing against his arm.

  They got in easily, and Lithgow found the light switch from before.

  The basement was empty. Dust covered the concrete floor. The paint peeled off the walls.

  Lithgow said, “They’ve cleared out. There was a drugs factory in here.”

  He told them what he and Hammond had found in the basement.

  Lawton sniffed and screwed up his face. “What’s that smell?” he said, more to himself than a question to the others.

  Sassie sniffed. “Can’t smell anything; nothing but ‘old’.”

  “The jars were over here,” said Lithgow, indicating the shelf, “three of them lined up.”

  Lawton ignored him. They’d moved out, obviously. “Your break-in stirred them up a bit, Fraser. They didn’t hang around.”

  “Maybe they were moving anyway,” said Lithgow.

  “They had something to hide. You say the drugs were produced in here.”

  Lithgow said yes.

  Lawton said, “So you were in here, having a nose – what happened then?”

  “I had the jar, ready to go, then the woman, she came through that door and shot Stevie.”

  “Which is when you ran,” said Lawton.

  “Too fucking right.”

  “You’re a good man to have around in a crisis,” said Lawton.

  Sassie said, “Are you two married? You bicker like an old couple.”

  Lithgow said, “Lawton turned me down. Said I wasn’t pretty enough.”

  Sassie laughed. The door burst open.

  Lawton said, “Look out,” and lunged towards her.

  A pale man with bleached hair wrapped an arm around her throat and pulled her towards the door.

  Sassie reached for Lawton as he sprang forward, but the pale man dragged her away from him.

  Her face blanched and her eyes gaped.

  Lawton clawed at the air, trying to reach her but not managing to, and saying, “No, Sassie, no – ”

  And the pale man opened his jaws and showed his fangs and moved his mouth towards Sassie’s white throat.

  * * *

  “And here,” said Ion Friniuc, leading the way, “is where the good stuff happens,” and he laughed, continuing down the wooden stairs that led into the cavern.

  The Professor stopped halfway down the stairs and his gaze skimmed over the underground hideaway. Above him, strip-lights hummed like they were living things that hung from the panelled ceiling.

  He looked down, and saw what he knew to be vampires staring up at him. A cluster of a dozen or so glared and sniffed the air. His legs weakened, and he wanted to turn around and go back upstairs to Nina.

  “They can smell your blood, Professor,” said Ion.

  He touched his emblem.

  He swallowed, wetting his dry throat.

  “Does it work?” he said, holding up his symbol.

  “Yes,” said Ion, “of course,” and he flicked at his ponytail, which was held in place by what seemed to be a strip of red leather. “How do you think we survive? Come down, Professor, for fuck’s sake.”

  The guided tour had started out promisingly, an audience with Nadia Radu in her office, before he was shown into Dr. Haddad’s lab.

  The old man was still making pills. The Professor stared at the chemist while Mrs. Radu explained how they moved here to the new base.

  She’d said, “Those idiots forced our hand when they broke in. We had to get out of the Holland Park property. No doubt the police will be nosing a
round at some stage.”

  The Professor, still staring at Haddad, had said, “Funny to think that I’m in some way related to this old fellow,” and then looking at Mrs.

  Radu, he added: “Delicious to think I’m in some way related to you, Nadia.”

  Ion’s voice pulled him out of the memory:

  “Professor, come down, I said.”

  And the Professor scurried down the wooden stairs, eyes fixed on the vampires the whole time. They moved towards him, and his belly crawled. He rushed up to Ion’s side, and Ion barked at the vampires.

  They balked and shuffled away.

  Ion laughed. The Professor looked at him. He was a towering man.

  Muscles bulged under his black T-shirt. The scar etched on his face made him look even more fearsome. His sister had given him that. Cut him when he was a child.

  “Why?” the Professor had asked him once, rubbing his hands together, sweat on the palms, and Ion had answered, “Because she loved me.”

  The Professor thought, I wouldn’t like to know what she does to the people she hates.

  “A good place, Professor,” said Ion.

  “Yes, it’s – it’s remarkable, Ion.”

  Ion said, “I have to let them out, now. It’s feeding time. The city’s crawling with them already.”

  The Professor said, “I’ve seen the news.”

  “It doesn’t matter. The more the merrier, eh?”

  Ion left him and walked across the panelled platform that covered much of the floor area. The vampires followed him, and the Professor gasped when he saw more of the creatures appear from the shadows and join the troop of undead tailing Ion.

  He’s the Pied Piper of Vampires, thought the Professor.

  Ion stooped and turned to look at the Professor, and the vampires did the same. For a moment, he thought Ion would order them to attack, and he took a step backwards.

  And then Ion said, “Will you try to sleep with my sister again, Professor?”

  The Professor swallowed and took another backward step. He said, “I’ve never – I have nothing but respect for Mrs. Radu, I’ve never – ”

  “Don’t lie,” said Ion. “Everyone tries to sleep with Nadia. Nadia’s Nadia. She’s irresistible.” He smiled and said, “Even to me.”

  Ion turned away and walked towards the far wall, the vampires following like dogs after a pack leader.

  A steel ladder clambered up the far wall. Ion climbed it, and at the top he unbolted what appeared to be the underside of a manhole cover. He climbed down, calling a vampire to him. He pointed up the ladder and said, “Go get food,” and slapped the creature on the back of its head. The vampire darted up the ladder. The Professor gasped at the creature’s agility. It barely seemed to touch the rungs. Another followed, then another. Vampires swept up the ladder and disappeared into the manhole.

  “Where does that lead?” said the Professor.

  “To some sewer, then a tunnel, then out near the Thames,” said Ion.

  “Will they be followed when they come back?”

  Ion glared up at him and said, “Would you follow them?”

  No, he wouldn’t. Not unless he had his emblem. And even then, he’d follow far behind. He said, “Will they all come back?”

  “Maybe. Not all of them are here, anyway. They’re scattered all over the city, by now. A few are still at the house in Holland Park. We left them there,” he said, “as guard dogs.”

  * * *

  Sassie screamed. The pale man tried to bite her. She jammed her hand under his chin and forced his mouth away from her throat.

  Lithgow screamed and cowered away.

  The pale man, his head forced back, hauled Sassie out of the basement.

  Lawton regained his balance, but the pale man was almost through the door. Another figure crashed into the basement, barging into the pale man and Sassie. The pale man lost his grip, and she slipped away from him, running into Lawton.

  The other figure, a man with orange hair, snarled and showed sharp teeth, and he charged into the basement.

  He went straight for Lithgow.

  The pale man found his footing and came for Lawton. Lawton, holding Sassie, stared into the pale man’s eyes. They were tinged with red, as if blood had leaked into their colour. He only looked into the eyes for a couple of seconds, but it was enough time for him to see something he could only describe as evil.

  Then he punched the pale man in the face.

  The pale man reeled away, and his legs buckled under him.

  Lithgow shrieked.

  Orange Hair stumbled towards him. Orange Hair said, “Remember me, you cunt? You sold me that pill for a tenner, and look at me now.”

  Lawton shoved Sassie aside. The pale man tried to get up, and Lawton kicked him in the face, but he just shook his head and staggered to his feet.

  Lawton glanced across at Lithgow. Lithgow flailed against his attacker. Orange Hair laughed and baited Lithgow. He pounced and bit Lithgow in the arm. Lithgow squealed and flapped.

  Sassie’s attacker lunged again.

  Lawton swung an elbow and it cracked against the pale man’s chin, and he lurched against the wall.

  Lawton looked at Sassie. “Go help Fraser.”

  Lithgow screamed.

  The pale man, not a drop of blood on his punched, kicked, and elbowed face, came forward again, baring his teeth.

  Lawton kicked him under the chin. The pale man’s head snapped back, but he shook the blow off and came forward again.

  “You can’t beat me down, tough guy,” said the pale man. He snarled, showing fangs.

  He lunged at Lawton and Lawton put his guard up, throwing punches and elbows at the pale man’s head. It was like hitting a punch bag – the thing kept coming back. Lawton grabbed the pale man’s collar and threw three rapid punches into his opponent’s nose. The nose flattened against the pale man’s face, but no blood came out – just some black fluid, oozing down over the pale man’s mouth.

  And then he opened his mouth and hissed at Lawton.

  Lawton glanced over at Lithgow. Orange Hair had his teeth buried in Lithgow’s arm. Lithgow screamed and thrashed about.

  Lawton, holding off the snarling pale man, said, “What the fuck are they?”

  Sassie said “You know what they are, you know,” and she grabbed a splinter of wood the length of a cricket bat. It looked like the remains of a table leg. She drove the sharp end into the middle of Orange Hair’s back. He screamed and wheeled around, letting go of Lithgow. He tottered towards Sassie, but only made a few steps.

  Orange Hair turned black, like he’d been singed. He shrieked and burst into flames, and then exploded into dust, which created a cloud around Lithgow and Sassie.

  Lawton’s attacker clawed at him and Lawton looked him in the eye and said, “So now I know how to kill you.”

  Lawton shoved the pale man away.

  Lithgow screamed that he’d been bitten.

  Sassie said, “Stab it in the heart.”

  Lawton fended off another attack. He was tiring. His arms felt as if they’d been drained of strength; he’d thrown that many punches.

  Lithgow howled, saying he was going to die.

  Sassie scoured the basement. She found another slat of wood, the leg of a chair splintered off.

  She said, “Jake,” and tossed it to Lawton, and he caught it just as the pale man came again. Lawton batted him across the temple with the chair leg. His skin broke, and black fluid seeped from the wound. But the blow didn’t hinder him: he growled at Lawton and came again.

  Lawton drove the stake up into the pale man’s solar plexus, lifting him off his feet. The pale man, staked on the chair leg, started to twitch.

  His mouth opened and closed, and he started frothing. He croaked, and then his skin scorched and he came apart, his flesh and everything in it falling into dust.

  Lawton stepped back, looked at the pale man’s remains: motes hanging in the air, peppered around the floor.

  �
��Jesus Christ,” he said.

  Lithgow again cried that he was dying. Sassie, trying to comfort Lithgow, said, “We need to get out of here.”

  Lawton said, “What have I just seen?”

  * * *

  Jenna slipped into the basement and watched Jake’s legs slide through the window.

  She sniffed the air, smelling the thick, warm blood flowing through his veins. She heard the sound of his running feet, and they faded and faded until there was only silence.

  And then his odour was gone, leaving nothing but the stale smell of this basement and the dusty remains of her companions.

  She’d seen them destroyed, and it terrified her.

  She’d come down after them when they all smelled blood in the basement. But when the guys went in, she stopped at the door because she recognized Jake’s voice.

  She drew away, lurking in the shadow of the stairs that led down to the basement. She listened to the struggle, taking a peek around the door now and again.

  And she peeked just at the moment Jake drove that piece of wood through Heiko’s heart.

  Heiko could’ve run away when she saw Jake arm himself, but he’d been obsessed with food. Jenna knew this because it obsessed her, too.

  The hunger gnawing at her the entire time, and only one thing would sate it.

  Blood.

  She was so hungry she’d almost barged into the basement. She could smell the boiling blood in Jake’s veins, in Fraser’s veins, in that blonde thing’s veins. She could hear the throb-throb-throb of their pulses, and it drove her mad.

  But she somehow held back.

  She’d watched Jake, and although he was only food now, something had burned deep inside her when she saw him.

  She didn’t know lust anymore, or love – only hunger; but the feeling wasn’t quite that.

  It was gone, now, whatever it was. In its place, hunger came again.

  Blood, she thought, I must get blood.

  Without blood in her belly it felt like a thousand insects were crawling just beneath her skin.

  It could drive you mad, this hunger.

  She scanned the basement and saw everything in the red hue her new eyes allowed. She looked up at the window and to the night outside, and she saw the darkness and all that moved in it as shades of red.