by Mike Bennett
‘Do you need to do the same with my tube?’ asked Ana.
‘No,’ said David. ‘By the time we need to use yours – if we need to use yours at all – he should be able to suck by himself. We can just take Beltran’s tube out and slip yours in.’
‘Just like feeding a baby,’ said Lydia.
‘Yes,’ said David. ‘Sort of.’
‘Well, let’s just hope you don’t have to burp him, eh?’
David ignored the comment and looked at this watch: it was 11:55. He took a deep breath and turned to address the Sect. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, I know that this,’ he gestured to the arrangement behind him, ‘isn’t quite what you were expecting. Indeed, some of you may be a little, er, disappointed to see that no-one is being murdered here tonight. I can’t say that I regret that, and so I shan’t apologise for it. But the thing is – as some of you know, and I’m sure by now most of you have heard – I don’t believe murder is necessary to sustain the life of – ’
‘It’s almost midnight,’ said Lydia tapping her watch.
David waited a moment then continued. ‘As I was about to say ... it may be necessary for some of you to act as blood donors tonight, to give a small amount of blood in the unlikely event that Lord Underwood requires more than Beltran and Ana and possibly Conchi here can safely provide. I see this as an infinitely preferable way to feeding His Lordship than murdering innocent people. In fact, I believe Underwood’s nights of murder are over. We stand, ladies and gentlemen, at a new beginning – not only for Underwood, but also – ’
‘Please, David,’ said Beltran. ‘Lydia is right. It is too late for speeches. We must proceed!’
David’s lips tightened. He sighed and looked at his watch. ‘Yes. Well, as my lovely assistants here insist on reminding me, the hour is at hand. So, with no further ado, let’s proceed.’
‘About time too,’ said Lydia.
David turned and spoke to Beltran. ‘If you start to feel faint or anything, tell me, okay?’
Beltran nodded.
‘Okay. Here we go.’ David loosened the roller clamp on the I.V. tube, and Beltran’s blood started to flow. A gasp of awe went up from the Sect members when they saw the red line moving. They pointed, nudging each other and muttering in various languages.
David watched as the blood crept along the tube, moving out now over the coffin, and approaching Underwood’s face.
‘Oh, my God,’ said Beltran. ‘It’s so exciting!’
‘I wish I could say the same,’ said David.
‘You are not excited?’
‘No, I’m shitting myself.’
‘Really?’ asked Ana.
‘No,’ said David. ‘It’s just an expression. It means I’m scared.’
‘Will you two shut up?’ said Lydia. ‘This is a sacred moment, not a smutty English class.’ She turned to the Sect. ‘All hail, Lord Underwood!’
The Sect members took up the chant in low voices. ‘Hail, Lord Underwood. Hail, Lord Underwood.’
David gripped the edge of the coffin and watched as the blood reached the point where the tube twisted downwards. As the blood started to descend it seemed to flow faster, as if it were eager to get to its destination.
Lydia stopped chanting and came to David’s side. She laid her hand over his on the coffin’s edge, but David barely noticed her as the blood in the tube passed between Underwood’s lips.
‘How long is the tube?’ asked Lydia.
‘Not long,’ said David. ‘Maybe twenty centimetres.’
‘So the blood should run into his throat about – ’
The tube feeding into Underwood’s mouth gave a minute twitch.
‘Now.’ David felt Lydia’s hand tighten on his. He looked at Conchita. ‘Did you see that?’
‘Yes,’ said Beltran.
‘He’s alive,’ said Lydia. ‘Praise Satan, he’s really alive!’
The chanting behind them stopped and certain bolder Sect members shuffled forwards.
The tube twitched again, stronger than before.
‘Oh bloody hell,’ David’s voice trembled.
Underwood’s lips closed on the tube.
‘He’s sucking!’ cried Lydia. ‘Isn’t it amazing? He’s sucking!’
Underwood’s chest began to rise and fall.
Lydia gripped David’s hand. ‘You’ve done it, David! You’ve done it!’
David was unable to tear his eyes away from the vampire’s hands and the black veins that slowly rippled as they filled with blood. ‘This is ... this is incredible.’
‘Yes,’ said Lydia. ‘Isn’t it?’
‘No – I mean incredible in a bad way, Lydia. Look at his veins!’
She looked, her eyes excited. ‘Yes, isn’t it brilliant?’
‘No, it’s impossible! Beltran’s blood can only just have entered Underwood’s stomach, and yet already, somehow his body is processing it – turning it from food into fresh arterial blood!’
‘Well, that’s good then, isn’t it?’
‘No, this isn’t supposed to happen! He’s not supposed to be able to digest more than a pint or two at most. At this rate ... ’ David looked at the I.V. running from Beltran’s neck, then at Beltran. ‘Everyone! We have to stop this! It’s happening too fast!’ He reached for the roller clamp.
Beltran pushed him back. ‘No, David!’
David fell into Lydia, causing her to drop the candelabrum to the floor. She cried out, ‘What the hell are you doing, you bloody lunatic?’
David regained his balance and again went for the roller clamp. ‘Beltran, we have to shut it off, it’s too dangerous!’ Beltran held out a hand to stop him and Lydia called to the Sect members who had crept in closer.
‘Seize him! Hold him back!’
The hooded figures ran forward, grabbed David by the arms and dragged him back. ‘No!’ David cried. ‘Let me go! Lydia! Stop it, before it’s too late!’
‘Oh, shut up, you wimp!’ said Lydia. ‘It is too late – for you.’ She turned back to the coffin – and froze.
Underwood’s hands were moving. Slowly they crept up his body, his talon-like nails brushing through his long black beard until they came to his mouth and touched the plastic tubing.
‘Conchita,’ said Lydia. ‘Bring those candles closer.’ Conchita came closer and the candlelight fell over Underwood’s face. Immediately, Underwood turned towards the light.
‘Master?’ Lydia whispered.
Underwood’s hands moved away from the tube at his mouth and found the sides of the coffin. His fingers spread out and gripped the edges. Then slowly, he began to rise.
‘He’s getting up!’ cried Lydia. ‘Isn’t it amazing? So strong, so quickly.’
‘Lydia,’ said Beltran, his voice thick and slurry. ‘I think perhaps, I have given my pint now.’
‘Shhh, Belly,’ said Lydia. ‘Can’t you see, he’s rising?’
‘Lydia!’ shouted David. ‘Listen to him! Underwood’s taking too much!’
‘Shut up, David!’
Underwood sat upright. He opened his mouth and inhaled – a slow hiss that caused the blood in his throat to bubble noisily. With his eyes still closed, he slowly turned his head from side to side, as if making an assessment of the room with his other senses.
‘Lydia,’ said Beltran weakly. ‘I’m sorry, but I have to stop my blood.’ With trembling hands he reached for the roller clamp and closed it.
‘Oh, damn it, Belly,’ said Lydia. ‘Must you be so bloody selfish?’ She turned to Conchita. ‘Conchita, get Ana’s blood going – quickly!’
Conchita put the candelabrum aside and opened the roller clamp on Ana’s arm.
As Ana’s blood began to creep into the second I.V. tube, Beltran’s blood in the first tube now stopped flowing. Underwood sucked but nothing happened. His fingers moved to his mouth and drew out the tube. Blood drizzled out and ran over his fingers. He sniffed at the tube, then his tongue emerged to lick at the sticky discharge.
‘Hurry up, Conchi!’
said Lydia.
‘The blood cannot come any faster, Lydia,’ said Conchi. ‘It is not thinned and it comes from a weaker vein.’
Underwood’s fingers now began to explore the tube, feeling the warm blood inside and how the temperature of the blood grew warmer beneath his touch the further along the tube his fingers went; the closer they got to Beltran’s neck.
‘Beltran!’ David shouted. ‘Get away from there!’
Beltran watched the hands reaching for him along the tube and a woozy smile rose to his lips. ‘Master ... ’.
Underwood’s eyes opened.
‘Bienbenidos ... Welcome. Welcome back to life.’
Underwood’s lips drew back, and David noticed that the vampire’s canine teeth had grown long and sharp. ‘Oh my God.’
Underwood grasped the I.V. tube and yanked it savagely towards him. Beltran screamed as the catheter tore from his jugular in a spray of blood that splashed across Underwood’s face.
‘No!’ cried David.
Underwood seized Beltran by the head and pulled the spurting wound to his mouth.
Suddenly, the hands that held David became limp and he shook them off. Behind him the Sect group was breaking apart, many of them were now making for the stairs. Somebody screamed, ‘Papa!’ but David barely registered it as he ran forwards and grabbed Beltran by the shoulders. ‘Stop it!’
‘David!’ Lydia shouted. ‘For God’s sake, stop interfering!’
‘No!’ David pulled, but Underwood’s grip was surprisingly strong. David put his arms around Beltran’s chest and put a foot up against the stone plinth. ‘Let him go!’ He pushed back from the plinth with all his strength and tore Beltran from Underwood’s grip. Then he was falling backwards; unable to turn or brace himself, he landed on his back, his head bouncing off the flagstone tiles in the seconds before Beltran’s unconscious body fell on top of him.
For a moment David lay stunned, tiny points of light exploding before his eyes and voices sounding as if he were hearing them from underwater. Then, he became aware of the warm liquid that was spreading around him; he raised his hand up before his eyes and blood dripped onto his face. It shocked him into alertness. He tried to get up but Beltran was like a dead weight on top of him. He raised his head as much as he could and saw Lydia backing slowly away from the coffin. David struggled, his shoulders slipping in the blood that pooled beneath him. Then, he saw why Lydia was backing away: Underwood was climbing out of the coffin. His body, which had been cadaverous only minutes before, was now almost fully restored. His skin was the watery-grey colour of slush and his eyes – which had sunk back to a normal set – were fierce above his blood-saturated beard.
‘My Lord,’ said Lydia. ‘I-I am Lydia.’
Underwood ignored her and walked unsteadily towards David. David redoubled his efforts to get out from underneath Beltran; he pushed and tried to roll him off but found himself slipping and sliding in the blood. Underwood reached for him.
He knows, thought David. He knows I came down to cut his head off. He’s going to kill me. ‘No!’ cried David. ‘No!’
Underwood now stood directly above him, his taloned fingers descending. David closed his eyes and turned away. A moment passed, another, and then he felt Beltran’s weight lifted from him. He opened his eyes to see Underwood hauling Beltran into an upright position. Underwood took a moment to adjust the angle of Beltran’s head, then brought the now weakly-pumping wound back to his lips. David turned his face away. He was about to drag himself clear when Underwood, evidently anticipating his move, brought a foot down hard upon his neck, pinning him to the floor. David grabbed at the blood-slicked sole of Underwood’s shoe and tried to push it away, but he could barely lift it enough to breathe. Helplessly, he watched as Beltran raised a hand, as if in meek protest. It fluttered for a moment, then fell twitching at his side.
Lydia cleared her throat. ‘My Lord, I am your servant.’ Underwood gave no indication that he had heard her as he continued to drink, noisily now, like he might be sucking at the dregs. In the candlelight, Lydia’s facial expressions flickered between awe, horror, and something that might have been pity for Beltran. But as Underwood dropped Beltran’s lifeless body to the floor, her features settled into a smile of most reverent obedience. ‘My name is Lydia Flinch, daughter of Arthur.’
Underwood wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘Are you indeed?’ His voice was hoarse.
‘I am, My Lord,’ Lydia curtseyed.
‘Hmm.’ Underwood looked down at David, who was still clawing at his foot. ‘And who,’ he said, lifting his foot from David’s throat ‘... might you be?’
David choked and gasped for breath.
‘He is David, My Lord,’ said Lydia. ‘The youngest son of Arthur, and, regrettably perhaps ... your new guardian.’
Underwood squinted at David. ‘Regrettably?’
Lydia smiled. ‘Yes, My Lord. I’m afraid all this,’ she indicated the blood transfusion apparatus, ‘was his idea.’
‘Lydia,’ David coughed. ‘You fucking bitch.’
‘And these?’ Underwood nodded to the remaining members of the Sect who now cringing against the far wall. ‘Who are these … sorry-looking wretches?’
‘They are of the Sect, My Lord,’ said Lydia. ‘Your faithful servants.’
Underwood used one of his long fingernails to pick a morsel of Beltran from between his teeth. ‘I see. Didn’t your father give you my instructions? I specifically stated I should have a quiet resurrection: just a victim to be bled and nothing more. Instead, I awaken to this ... pantomime.’
‘He did, My Lord, but I thought – ’ Lydia began.
‘You thought you’d disobey me?’
Lydia bowed her head. ‘Forgive me, My Lord, I can explain.’
Underwood took her by the chin and raised her face to his. ‘Look at me when I’m talking to you.’ His nails pressed into her flesh as he spoke. ‘Mark this well, Miss Flinch, I don’t look kindly upon disobedient servants. With me you get one chance and then you’re out, and when people leave my service, they do so in a pine box.’
‘I’m sorry, Master.’
‘Yes, I’ve no doubt you are,’ Underwood let her go; at the same moment, he stepped on David’s fingers. David gasped and gritted his teeth, but didn’t cry out. ‘The same goes for you, Flinch: don’t think because you come from a noble line, I won’t put you down like a dog if you displease me.’ He lifted his foot and staggered slightly before regaining his balance.
Lydia took a step towards him. ‘Are you all right, My Lord?’
Underwood raised a hand. ‘No, I’ve been dead for fifty years. Suffice it to say I’m feeling a little … off-colour.’ He pointed at the Sect members. ‘You lot.’ He cocked a thumb to the stairs. ‘Get out!’ The hooded figures hurried out, all except three, one of whom lay on the floor while the other two tried in vain to lift him. ‘Didn’t you hear me?’
David rolled over and looked behind him to see Ildefonso Hernandez pull his hood down and look appealingly to Underwood. ‘Forgive me, Lord Underwood. It is my father; I think he has had the heart attack!’
‘Ildefonso?’ David got to his feet and hurried over to them. señor Hernandez Senior was lying on the floor. His face was ashen and his breathing thin and raspy. ‘You’re right; we need to get him to a hospital.’
‘Ticker packed up, has it, Flinch?’ asked Underwood, picking up Beltran’s overturned seat and dropping down onto it.
‘Yes, My Lord.’
‘Pity. He’s no use to me then. My meals need a pulse.’
‘It is my fault!’ said Ildefonso. ‘I should never have let him come, but he insisted.’
‘Don’t blame yourself, Ildefonso,’ said David. ‘I shouldn’t have let you bring him down here.’ He called to Conchita where she stood on the other side of the coffin. ‘Conchi! Can you help us?’ He turned and shouted up to the last retreating members of the Sect on the stairs. ‘Hey, you three on the stairs.’ They stopped and crouched down
on the stairs to look at him. He waved them back. ‘Come back here and give us a hand.’
Conchita came around the coffin, genuflecting to Underwood as she passed him. Underwood nodded to her, amused. She joined David at the same time as the three Sect men.
‘We have to get señor Hernandez here to a hospital immediately. Conchi, will you go with him?’
‘Of course. I will do whatever I can,’ she knelt to help señor Hernandez.
‘Oh, and Conchi?’ said David.
She looked up at him.
‘Stay away from here, okay?’
She nodded.
A few minutes later, Conchi and the others were gone, and David and Lydia stood facing Underwood across the empty cellar.
‘So,’ Underwood sat with his legs crossed and an arm draped over the back of the seat. ‘This is it. You two are all that remains of dear old Arthur Flinch.’
‘I’m sorry, My Lord,’ said David. ‘This is – this is all my fault.’
‘Yes, so I understand.’
‘I thought we could bring you back without,’ David shook his head helplessly, ‘without murdering anyone.’
Underwood inclined his head as if he hadn’t heard correctly. ‘Come again?’
‘I thought we could you resurrect you ... humanely.’
‘Humanely?’ Underwood looked around the cellar at the blood that seemed to have sprayed onto practically every surface. ‘Well, it looks like I’m not the only one who’s had something of a rude awakening tonight.’
‘No, sir.’ David hung his head.
‘Of course, I expect all this bloody mess to be cleaned up by sunrise.’
‘Yes, My Lord,’ said Lydia.
Underwood considered her for a moment. He smiled. ‘Good. Well, carry on then. You’re dismissed.’
Lydia curtseyed, ‘Yes, My Lord.’ She turned to leave. David followed.
A chair scraped on the far side of the coffin and Ana stood up. She had been so still and quiet in all the chaos that David had forgotten all about her. He noticed that her IV line was now closed, but that blood had nonetheless reached the end of the tube and dripped into the coffin.
‘Not you, dear,’ said Underwood.
