Forrest Wollinsky: Vampire Hunter [Book 2]: Blood Mists of London

by Leonard D. Hilley II

  “We hunt for him. He dies for hurting one of my own.”

  “When I saw your children,” I said, “I thought you would have emerged with them.”

  Albert stood. His narrow green eyes turned crimson with bright white pupils. “When you visited before I mentioned that I never expose myself on the surface. I cannot risk it.”

  “I remember.”

  “There’s no end to where I shall go now to tear this vampire apart. He will suffer incredible pain before he turns to dust.”

  “We wish to help.”

  Albert smiled. “From what my children told me, it might take all of us and more. He’s dangerous. What have you learned about him?”

  “He’s quick and has incredible strength,” Jacques said.

  “Name?”

  He shook his head. “None of us know. Not even the constables.”

  “I see. A nameless vampire. My guess is he’s foreign. Until he entered my tunnels, I had never felt his presence before.”

  “We need to find where he sleeps during the day,” Jacques said.

  Albert nodded. “Come morning, we’ll scout our tunnels, after my confrontation with him the night before, it’s doubtful he’d dare reside on this side of Whitechapel.”

  “But he favors hunting on the East End,” I said.

  “That doesn’t mean he hides here. Vampires aren’t known to do what’s expected. You might have better results if you examine the areas near the docks.”

  “We were thinking the same,” I replied. “Even the constable plans to inspect the port dockets and ask questions.”

  Albert smiled. “You’d have better success than he.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Some ship captains deliver contraband and don’t want officials nosing into their affairs. It really depends on what country the captain is native to, and more importantly, if this vampire came ashore by ship. He might have arrived by train or even horseback. That’s the worst part about having an enemy you know absolutely nothing about.”

  “I agree,” Jacques said.

  “Keep alert,” Albert said to Jacques. “You’re like me and have the ability to sense the evil that saturates this undead beast, so you’ll detect when he’s close.”

  Jacques nodded, but I often received similar sensations whenever a vampire was nearby.

  “What’s the quickest underground route to the port?” I asked. “Before we begin hunting this vampire during the day, it’s probably best to see if we can discover how he got to London.”

  Albert pointed at two of the rat boys and motioned them toward him.

  “Follow Clyde and George. They can show you a platform where you can get aboard a train without paying a fare or being seen. It’s how I get from one side of London to the other without anyone seeing what I am.”

  “We have money,” Father said.

  “I’m not implying that you don’t. But I’m certain you don’t want this vampire to see you take passage if he’s aboard the same train, do you?”

  Father shook his head.

  Albert folded his long bony hands into a prayerful manner. “We must assume great ignorance in order to outmaneuver this vampire. Not only is he an incredible adversary, he has superb knowledge. The best way to deceive a haughty mind is to let him believe he holds all of the advantages.”

  That was the best advice I had heard in quite some time. I thought about the look in the vampire’s eyes when he had tipped his hat and vanished into the fog. He was daring me to enter after him, and had I, most likely I’d be dead or severely injured. Like I had mentioned to Jacques, I believed this vampire was playing a game. Hunter versus Vampire, or as he probably accessed it: Vampire versus Prey.

  Albert looked at me. “While you search the port, my boys and I will scour the tunnels, caves, and other recesses on this end of Whitechapel. Please return to me this evening and we’ll exchange information.”

  I nodded.

  Clyde and George walked past me and through the narrow door. The rest of us followed. The path we took was dark and cold. In the back of my mind, I thought about the similarities this environment had to that of our newfound soulless enemy’s mentality. Death-dealers possessed no soul or conscious for a reason.

  Murder was calculated. Often without a second thought. With vampires, part of their savagery came from their need to feed and increase their clan numbers, but this particular vampire had not acted like the others. He was more vicious, using a weapon to exhibit his brutality, to inflict pain. Most vampires used compulsion, fed, and disappeared without killing the victim.

  The two rat boys led us to a dark platform at the edge of train rails. An old steam engine train waited. They led us to the rear of the train, crawled under the car, and pushed up a small square door. They pointed and insisted we climb inside and close the door.

  We did.

  The small room was filled with tools and barely large enough for us to fit inside. We were pressed together uncomfortably for over an hour before we arrived at the other platform across the city. I was thankful I had not taken my box. We’d never have all fit in the cramped space. After a lot of careful acrobatic maneuvering, we opened the door and lowered ourselves onto the track.

  While it had been easy to board the train unseen, joining the exiting passengers at the platform to climb to the surface was more difficult. A man stood ready to check bags and ticket stubs. I was certain we’d be held until constables arrived, but Matilda cloaked us, allowing us to blend into the crowd and hurry to the cobblestone street.

  Now, we all needed to do was get to the port.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “We’ll have better luck searching the pubs for the ship captains,” Jacques said.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “If a ship has a short crew, the pubs are the best places to find new recruits. You’ve seen it when we were in Bucharest.”

  We walked along the wooden sidewalk, our boots thudding heavy hollow sounds on the boards. Several pubs bustled with crewmen lined outside the door. Most had not shaved or bathed in weeks. Some were hardened men with scarred faces and arms. They talked brash with one another, scuffling and shoving each other.

  Father and Matilda decided to sit at a small table while Jacques and I walked along the dock. My father’s legs had stiffened and caused him severe pain, probably from being confined in the small train car.

  At the edge of a dock near a ship sat a man with a captain’s hat. His face was pale; his eyes hopeless. He whittled a small piece of wood with his knife. Occasionally he glanced toward the pubs but didn’t seem eager to fight through the crowds, even though he probably wanted a strong drink to erase his mind of his troubles. I had seen the expression on my father’s face so many times that it was easy to read on other faces.

  Jacques stopped in front of the man and watched the sharp knife peel long strips of wood from his sculpture and fall to the ground.

  The man paused his carving and cocked a brow, glaring at Jacques. “Help you, mate?”

  “Your ship?” Jacques asked, nodding toward the flagship tied to the dock.

  “Aye.” He rubbed his sparse beard. “For what good luck I’ve had.”

  “Are you hiring crew hands?”

  He shook his head. His eyes were haunted. “No. I arrived three days ago, but I’ve not been looking to hire anyone yet. Thinking about selling the ship actually, especially after this last voyage.”

  “How long have you had it?”

  “A few years.”

  “Why sell it?”

  “I fear it might be cursed or haunted. Late in the night, footsteps can be heard coming into different sleeping quarters, but no one has ever seen anyone else. At least that’s what some of my crew told me days before they died in their bunks.”

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “Don’t rightly know, lad. Lost half my crew before we were halfway into our trip.”

  Jacques and I both frowned.

  “How?” Jacques asked.


  “Disease. Plague, I suppose. But it was the oddest thing I’d ever seen.”

  “In what way?” Jacques asked.

  “Big rat bite marks, on the necks of the ones that died while they slept. They were strange bites with only two puncture holes. But all of them looked the same. The dead men’s skin was gray. Their flesh was cold like marble. That’s what was strange. Rats randomly bite a person anywhere, but normally one won’t die from a single bite. That’s why I think it was the plague. But the plague doesn’t normally kill that quickly.”

  “What did you do with the bodies?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “Threw ‘em overboard. It was too dangerous to keep them aboard. As fast as it passed to all the others.”

  “Other than this . . . disease, did any of your crew happen to disappear?” I asked.

  He frowned while thinking. After a few moments, he shook his head and his eyes widened. He scratched at his beard. “Actually, yes. One. In all the chaos, I seemed to have forgotten about him. But he was never one of my crew. He was a wealthy chap and paid me handsomely to allow him to board. Odd that I had forgotten him. I never saw him get off the ship when we docked.”

  “Do you recall his name?” Jacques asked.

  “No. I don’t. It escapes me.”

  “Do you remember where he boarded?”

  “Not offhand. My guess was along the Yangtze River. Why?”

  “Perhaps he’s still aboard your ship?” I said.

  “Not in any of the sleeping cabins, he’s not. I’ve checked.”

  “Below deck?”

  “Doubtful,” he replied.

  I stared at the ship for several moments. “You mind if we searched?”

  He rose to his feet and his hand tightened around his knife. Madness swirled in his eyes. “Actually, I do. My new cargo has yet to be loaded, and besides, what happened aboard my ship is none of your concern. The diseased dead bodies were thrown overboard far from London’s port, so there’s no threat to anyone here. Now go!”

  We didn’t argue. We walked away.

  “Hungry or diseased rats don’t leave a singular bite,” Jacques said. “They bite and gnaw. Those people were bitten by a vampire.”

  “I agree, but was it the same one?”

  Jacques shrugged. “The timeline is accurate.”

  “I was thinking the same thing. He used some kind of mind control over the captain to make him forget.”

  Jacques nodded.

  “I wonder if he’s using the ship for his lair.”

  “Interesting but unlikely,” Jacques replied.

  “Why?”

  “Too many risks. They had to unload the cargo and now the captain says that it will be loaded again, even if he sells it.”

  “The captain could be a human servant. You saw his reaction when I asked to search the ship.”

  Jacques smiled and then laughed softly. “If he has illegal supplies aboard, he’s not going to want anyone to attempt a thorough inspection.”

  “What could be so illegal?”

  “Poppy seeds, for one, but there’s other goods from the Orient that people smuggle in simply to avoid outrageous taxes.”

  “Do you think the crew tossed over dead bodies or the vampire’s neophytes?”

  “There’s no way to know since we didn’t see the bodies. If all they had were bite marks on their necks, he was probably siring.”

  I stared back at the ship. The captain walked up the ramp. “It wasn’t a wasted journey coming here, but we’re still no closer to knowing this vampire’s identity or where he came from. A part of me is still eager to search the lower levels.”

  Jacques shook his head. “I still don’t think he’s aboard the ship. Perhaps somewhere along the docks or in a warehouse. Those abandoned tunnels and caverns probably would be the best places to search. But the greatest probability is where we encountered him last night. That’s twice I’ve crossed paths with him there.”

  “You have far more experience than I. Let’s get Father and Matilda and catch a train back.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  A week passed and the unnamed vampire had not killed again. At least the constables or the newspapers had reported nothing. I regretted not searching the ship at the dock. I was almost convinced that this vampire had boarded another ship or a train and left London for good.

  Albert and his were-rat children had scoured the abandoned tunnels, the caves, and some of the active tracks, finding no trace of this undead intruder. His trail was cold.

  Jacques and I had even spent one night in a large cemetery. The only activity was an occasional bat and a bored owl. No vampires, ghouls, or zombies. A good night altogether.

  Father and I were ready to head back to Romania, as I needed to eliminate more of the vampire population in my homeland. Jacques and Matilda had rekindled their love and affection for one another. Both wanted to travel to America. Watching their interactions had renewed my internal struggle of my feelings for Rose.

  Our plans were to part ways the next morning, so we decided not to roam the alleyways during the night.

  September 9th, 1888

  The following morning a harsh desperate rapping rattled our inn door. I bolted from my pallet on the floor with a stake clenched tightly in my hand. Instinct, even though a vampire wouldn’t waste time pounding on a door, especially not after the sun had risen. I slid the stake under my father’s pillow and hurried to the door.

  I pulled the door open slightly and peered out. “Constable Shields?”

  His face was pale and haggard. He looked sick. His eyes were tormented with shock and repulsion. He removed his hat with a shaking hand. “May I come in, Forrest?”

  “Certainly.” I pulled the door open, allowing him to step inside.

  Shields took a deep breath and leaned against the wall to hold himself upright. His legs were shaky. I pulled the chair from the desk. “Here, have a seat, constable.”

  “Th-thank you.”

  “What’s troubling you?” I asked.

  Matilda slipped a housecoat over her gown while Jacques sat up on the edge of the bed. He ran a hand through his wavy hair.

  “Did you by chance patrol last night?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “No. In fact, we were getting ready to leave London.”

  “Leaving? Why?”

  “It’s been a week since the murder, and we’ve not encountered any suspicious folks on the streets. Nothing’s been reported in the post, either.”

  Shields wiped sweat from his brow with a handkerchief. “He struck again. He murdered another woman last night.”

  “Near the same place?”

  “No, he killed this one on Hanbury Street. Annie Chapman. Her name. Gruesome murder. Much worse than the last one.” He placed the handkerchief over his mouth and gagged for a few moments. “Only a devil could do something so dreadful. Like Polly, Annie’s throat was slashed, but her stomach was also cut open. Part of her . . . her entrails were strewn over her shoulder. Her womb had been cut completely out with almost surgical precision.”

  A long five minutes of absolute silence hung in the room. None of us even made eye contact with one another. Even if we had patrolled during the night, it would have been where we had last encountered this vampire and not on a different street. Certainly not where this woman had been killed.

  During my vampire hunts, I had seen some gruesome things, but none done to other mortals with the exception of my mother. Fighting and killing zombies, ghouls, and vampires, a Hunter witnessed a lot of dismemberment, usually in the process of killing these undead creatures. But, this particular murderer was different—sadistic—and not characteristic of a routine vampire.

  After his nausea subsided, Shields lowered his handkerchief and braved looking me in the eyes. “You honestly weren’t out on the streets last night?”

  “We weren’t. We stayed inside,” I replied.

  He took a deep breath and looked to the floor. His eyes darted back and for
th as his mind raced. He released a long sigh and shook his head. “It’s a bit early in the morning for drinking, but after seeing that poor woman . . . I’d down a whole bottle of scotch if I thought it would erase that gruesome scene from my memory.”

  I honestly didn’t know what to tell him. What advice could one give? With him being a constable, I was certain he had seen some vicious murders before. But this one horribly shook him.

  “I need to ask you something,” Shields said, looking at Jacques.

  Jacques shrugged and gave a nod.

  “I know the last time we talked I was more accusatory toward you than what I should have been.”

  Jacques smiled. “You were simply doing your job. Finding my cane at two different bloody scenes gave you every right to be suspicious.”

  Shield sighed. “But, it wasn’t really that.”

  “Then what?”

  “I sense something different about you. Well, all of you, except Forrest’s father. An energy of some sort that I don’t understand and can’t explain. There’s a reason you all have been concerned about this murderer and why you’ve shown keen interest in helping us hunt him down. Can you please tell me what you’re not telling me?”

  I glanced toward Jacques and he toward Matilda. Matilda shook her head slightly. She appeared apprehensive.

  Shields spoke with a pleading tone. “This is serious. Otherwise I’d never pry. You were certain this man would kill again. He has. You held no doubts. I know you have a deeper reasoning for believing that. But this murder was much worse than the last one. He will kill again, won’t he?”

  I nodded. “He will.”

  “Then can’t you see why I need your help?”

  “In a way, you already answered your own question,” I said.

  “What? When?”

  “You said that only a devil could do that to a person.”

  “He’s a demon?” Shields looked bewildered.

  “Not in that sense.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I need you to swear something to me,” I said.

  “Like what, exactly?”

  “What I tell you cannot leave this room, and you must promise exemption from any charges that might lead to arrest.”