“We have a problem,” I said.
Jacques glanced toward me. “What exactly? A vampire?”
“I’m not certain what it is but I sense its power.”
The high squeals and shrills swarmed in the darkness and with the odd chorus came a smell of decaying refuse. Jacques lifted the lantern. We stood back to back. Hundreds of eyes gleamed white off the lantern’s glow. Rats swarmed out from each path and spilled from holes in the walls. All of them trained their attention and headed toward us.
“What do you make of this?” Jacques asked.
“I don’t know. Some master vampires control different animals.”
Jacques smirked. “Yeah, don’t remind me.”
The bevy of vermin blocked our path, preventing us from returning to the place where we had descended from the street. From our left side the ground was carpeted with layers of black and brown rats. With their great numbers they could easily have swarmed us and ripped the flesh off our bodies, but they didn’t. They stood on their hind legs and left a path for us to follow where the boys had disappeared. I was certain if we attempted to go any other direction, they would attack.
“Not leaving us any alternate route,” I said, pointing.
“They’re not.”
I slid my hand into my pocket and withdrew a stake. “I guess we see where the path leads.”
He nodded and held the lantern before us. He held the silver cane like a club and not an aid for walking. Like me, he was on alert. For a moment I wondered what might happen if he chose to strike the cane against the medallion around his neck. How would the blinding light affect the rat masses? Would they attack or could we use their blindness to our advantage and escape? He never produced the radiate light, so I imagined that his curiosity was as great as my own.
With each step we took, the rat swarm closed in behind us. None attempted to bite or even acted hostile, but they were insistent we follow the path outlined ahead of us. They regarded us with intent curiosity.
The boys had taken this path, but without the rat masses insistence or guidance. No light other than our lantern glowed in this long narrow tunnel. The old rail tracks weren’t shiny from recent use but were coated with thick dust and cobwebs. The sound from the other tunnels where the rumbling trains moved grew fainter. This tunnel had been abandoned long ago.
Where the tracks ended the path narrowed and stopped at an open door. A set of crude steps led downward. I turned sideways and hunched to fit through the doorframe. After we started down the stone steps, light flickered along each of the walls. Flames danced from iron sconces, three on each wall. Water dripped from the ceiling, occasionally causing a hissing sound as the fire evaporated the moisture. Near the back of this room a small fire pit blazed. A large stone chair shaped like a throne was the only object in the center of the room, other than the pit. From behind the chair the five boys stepped from hiding.
Jacques looked at me. I shrugged.
At least the rats had not entered the room. None poked a head through the door, either.
“So you two are the ones harassing these young boys?” the male voice asked.
The flickering flames in the fire pit hardly presented this man’s outline. He was well hidden on the shadowed throne.
“Harassing?” I said, partly in anger. “Is that what they told you? One of them tried to steal my box. What kind of man defends little thieves or perhaps you’re the one who has trained them?”
“Man indeed. Approach.” His voice was harsh and menacing and a bit too demanding for my taste. I immediately disliked everything about him.
My hand tightened around the stake. It didn’t matter if he wasn’t a vampire. Stakes killed people, too, if his threatening tone arose to physical violence and it became such that I needed to defend myself.
After Jacques and I stepped past the fire pit, the lantern revealed that the man in the chair wasn’t a vampire, but a shape-shifter. He wasn’t a werewolf like Jacques. He was a were-rat and so were the five boys. The boys’ eyes glowed red and their gnarled teeth became more pronounced. Their fingernails lengthened like thin razor-edged blades. They looked even more threatening than the elder were-rat.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“Lord Albert,” he replied, bridging his long boney fingers and resting his narrow chin atop them. “And if you’ll indulge me the same?”
“I’m Forrest, and this is my cousin, Jacques.”
“England is not your homeland. Where are you from?”
“Romania,” I replied.
“What brings you into my tunnels?” His green eyes reflected in the fire’s glow.
“A woman was murdered last night, and we believe he might have used these tunnels to escape. We also suspect that he’s a vampire and might have set up residence down here.”
“A vampire?” He sounded amused.
“Yes.”
He eyed my box and then looked into my eyes. “You’re a Hunter?”
I nodded.
“And you?” He glanced at Jacques with a sly grin. “You’re a werewolf.”
“I am.”
“The man you seek came this direction last night,” Albert replied.
“Is he a vampire or human or worse?” I asked.
The were-rat shrugged. “He’s a vampire, but it’s highly doubtful he’ll ever pass through here again.”
“Why’s that?”
The were-rat grinned, revealing his pointy teeth. “Certain death will befall him.”
“You don’t fear him?” I asked.
“Not as much as he fears me.”
“So the rats in the tunnels are controlled by you and not he?”
Albert sneered. “What do you think? They led you to me, didn’t they?”
I nodded. “So you wished to meet us?”
“I don’t like intruders, Forrest. A man of my . . . nature needs a place of privacy. I won’t tolerate trespassers.”
“Why don’t you blend in with the others on the surface?” I asked. “Like these boys?”
“I cannot transform. I’m cursed to remain in this form, which isn’t all that bad once you’ve adjusted. I’m far more powerful in this form than I ever could be as a mere human. I never was one fashioned for society.”
“But you’re a lord?” I asked.
Albert laughed. “Titles are of little importance, unless you’re an actual king or queen. Folks are naïve to believe a title holds more prominence than the commoners. Without common folks, there’d be no rank of hierarchy. Being a lord has done nothing for me.”
“And yet you boast it nonetheless,” I replied.
The five were-rat boys gnashed their twisted teeth. Their eyes narrowed, and they glanced eagerly toward Albert, perhaps hoping for him to command them to attack Jacques and I. Should they charge, things would get bloody and messy fast. While I was certain Jacques could survive such an attack, I didn’t know what my fate might be. Death or possibly contaminated to become a were-rat, too?
“Guests should be cautious of the tone they take with me,” Albert said. “One bite or a severe slash from our claws would allow you to view a different type of existence, Forrest. Of course, such wouldn’t affect Jacques any.”
Well, that answered one of my questions.
The were-rat noticed the apprehension in my eyes. He smiled. “I’ve never known a Hunter that was also a were-creature. You might consider the possibilities of how your strength could increase, Forrest.”
I shook my head. “I’ll pass.”
Albert shrugged. “If you ever reconsider—”
“No.”
He sighed. “I use lord because there is not another higher in authority than myself in these tunnels. I could use king since none oppose me, but it’s too lofty. I’m the reason the railroad company abandoned this tunnel.”
“So others know you’re here?”
He shook his head. “No. They know about the rats and that something much larger lurks here. They’ve seen my shadow
but never actually seen me, which is probably more frightening than the true reality. Either way, it’s safer for them to stay away.”
“You’d kill them?”
“Whenever necessary. Again, I don’t take kindly to intruders.”
Jacques rested his hands atop his cane. “Did you recognize the vampire when he came into the tunnels?”
“He’s wealthy.”
“I gathered that much myself.”
Albert’s eyes narrowed. “You encountered him on the surface?”
Jacques nodded. “A few moments after he had killed a woman.”
“I see. And you simply let him slip away?”
“No less than you did, I suppose.”
Albert hissed. “You two have such pompous attitudes. Such disrespect—”
“No disrespect intended,” Jacques said. “But you leveled a direct accusation at me.”
Albert waved his boney hand and nodded. “Fair enough. But to elaborate upon the information about this vampire . . . he’s not a Londoner. He has no lair down here. He might not even have one in all of London.”
I frowned. “You think he’s a vagabond?”
He shrugged. “My guess is he’s an emigrant from Romania, Hungary, or Russia. Within the flooding great horde of refugees comes the darker, more dangerous fiends who wish only to cause death and destruction. Vampires are new to the West, but steadily rising in the number of neophytes. There are a few masters in London, but none who dare make themselves obvious to the general population. The olden countries are where their populations are the thickest.”
“I know,” I said, lowering my Hunter box to the earthen floor.
“And yet, you’re here, in London? What made you flee your homeland? The population of vampires was too much for you?”
I shook my head. “No. I needed time to heal.”
His eyes regarded me with keen interest. “Heal from what exactly? You appear strong and foreboding.”
I took a deep breath.
Jacques spoke before I could reply. “His mother was killed by a vampire. He, in turn, killed the vampire.”
The five were-rat boys lowered their gazes to the floor. Their threatening appearances diminished drastically. Sorrow filled their eyes and their shoulders slumped.
“My condolences,” Albert said softly. His hand went to the golden cross on his necklace. “We understand such losses here.”
“I do plan to return to my homeland after we find and kill this murderer,” I said. “I would dishonor my calling if I chose otherwise.”
Jacques eyed Albert. “For what it’s worth, last night’s vampire wasn’t trying to turn his victim. She was dead before he fed upon her.”
“I see,” Albert said with narrowed eyes. “On this side of Whitechapel there are thousands of potential victims. Murder is not uncommon amongst the impoverished.”
Jacques and I nodded.
“My boys and I will do whatever we can to help you.”
“Are you religious?” I asked, staring at his cross.
“We’re all religious in one way or another,” he replied. “You have crosses on the outside of your box. I imagine you possess others on your person as well.”
I nodded. “I do, but I didn’t craft the box. It was gifted to me.”
“If you had made it, you wouldn’t have placed the crosses upon it?”
I sighed. It always seemed to come down to religion, but I had seen the hatred between two warring religious factions that wished to take over Bucharest in their progression to control the world governments. “It’s doubtful I would have.”
“You’re not a believer in the cross?” He looked stunned and somewhat mortified.
I explained the culture of my people and the turmoil that had torn our country apart. A great number of people controlled by conflicting religions had been killed simply because neither side agreed with the other’s view of God, his prophets, and eternity. “I have my beliefs, and for me, they are sacred. What I believe requires no man dictating my faith.”
“I can understand how war can make one bitter—”
“It is not bitterness I follow.”
“If you’re not a believer in the cross and its power, you’re a fool to fight against these vile undead creatures of the night,” he said sternly.
“Not if they believe.” I smiled.
“What do you mean?” His eyes narrowed.
“Their fear in the sacred cross eradicates them, sending them to whatever Hell they believe exists.”
“You don’t believe in a Hell?”
“Life is Hell. Perhaps after I endure the torment I face in this life, I can be blessed with the everlasting peace in whatever afterlife there might be. And if there isn’t one? It’s peace all the same. Right?”
Albert regarded that for a few moments. He smiled. “I never thought of it in quite that manner, but your point is a valid one. Deceptions are everywhere, even in places you least expect, like the cathedrals.”
“So, what about this vampire?” I asked. “Where did he go after you confronted him?”
“He fled west.”
“May we have permission to search the tunnels?”
Albert acquiesced a nod. “Of course. And should we discover any pertinent clues, one of my boys will contact you on the surface.”
I wondered if these five lads were his actual offspring or whether he had turned them after adopting them. They could have been orphans that had wandered the streets before they found him. I didn’t pry because it wasn’t a relevant point. At least they had acceptance and considered one another as family, which was the greatest asset one could have when one was dirt poor and questioned daily whether they’d have enough food to sustain them another day.
“Boys,” Albert said. “Escort them to the tunnel where we saw last night’s intruder.”
They nodded and eagerly led the way up the stairs to the tunnel where the rat infestation had cornered us. When we crossed the threshold, the rats were gone. I marveled at how such a substantial number of rodents could become essentially nonexistent in less than a few minutes.
Chapter Seven
Jacques and I spent the better part of the day exploring the tunnels without finding any evidence of the vampire. Not that we expected to find clues that led us directly to him. He was more intelligent than that. But we learned more about the tunnels and how to navigate should we need to pursue him underground.
“We should head to the surface and find your father,” Jacques said.
I closed my eyes and winced. In his struggle to remain sober, I had foolishly abandoned him when he needed me the most. Fearing the worst, I hurried to find a ladder that led to the street above. With the number of people wandering the streets, the great many pubs, and other shops, finding Father wasn’t likely. At least not quickly.
On the corner of the street, I rose on tiptoes, trying to look over the mass of people and hoping to capture a glimpse of him, which I didn’t. Frantic, I pushed my way through the crowd, peering in storefronts, pub doors, and at each face in the crowd.
“Calm down, Forrest. What’s your hurry?”
“He swore he’d never drink again. But, in our absence I worry that the temptation to resist might have been more than he could withstand.”
“He’s a grown man. He can take care of himself. Such decisions are his. Not yours.”
I shrugged. “Perhaps, but some temptations are difficult for a person to solitarily confront and resist.”
“So is the struggle of mankind. If he fails in his resistance, he can try again.”
“He shouldn’t need to try again. He’s been lost to me ever since Momma died. I can’t risk losing him to drunkenness now.”
“I understand your concern, Forrest.” He clasped my shoulder. “But there are too many places to look, and we were under the streets for several hours.”
I nodded. “I know. That’s why I’m concerned. We left him alone for too long. His mind tends to ramble back to the painful me
mories he cannot cope with.”
The scent of charred hickory wood drifted with the slight breeze. With the smoky scent was that of something being cooked. Steam and smoke rose near the center of the next street. We came closer. Above a large smoldering log was a heavy black, cast-iron pot. A man with a long wooden oar stirred the bubbling contents. Poor folks stood in several lines with bowls, waiting to be served.
“Forrest!”
I looked to the right of the boiling pot. Father stood with a broad grin and lifted his bowl upward. I nodded toward him and smiled.
“Come see,” he said. “See who I found.”
Ignoring the food line, Jacques and I walked to where he stood. The woman beside him turned.
Matilda.
“You remember Matilda?” he asked with no hint of alcohol on his breath.
“Of course,” I replied.
Jacques glanced toward her, tipping his top hat, and when their eyes met, he froze.
They eyed one another and simultaneously said, “You!”
She broke her gaze from Jacques and glared toward me. “When I said that I detected the scent of a werewolf on you last night, I never knew it belonged to this dog.”
Jacques’ eyes became fierce, wolf-like. His jaw tightened. “Dog? Have you been away so long as not to recognize me?”
“I recognized you now, which is why I called you a dog, though you’re unworthy of such status. You deserve far worse!”
“Why you little wi—”
I grabbed his shoulder and turned him. With a harsh glare worthy only of an enemy, I admonished my cousin with a stern whisper. “Don’t say it! Not here in public, or she’s dead. They’ll kill her.”
“The world wouldn’t grieve if such a blessing occurred,” Jacques said, gritting his teeth.
Forrest Wollinsky: Vampire Hunter [Book 2]: Blood Mists of London Page 5
