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

by Leonard D. Hilley II

  Shields frowned. “What crimes have you committed?”

  “No crime, but perhaps a violation of your city’s statutes.”

  “You need to be more forthcoming than that.”

  “In return for us helping you find this man, we ask that you pardon us from any—”

  “Forrest!” Father said, shaking his head. “Don’t.”

  I gave my father a harsh stare. “No, he needs our services, our aid, or this thing will keep killing.”

  “Thing?”

  I nodded.

  “What exactly is he, and why do you insist that your party can find and kill him?”

  I stood, grabbed my Hunter box, and set it on the bed.

  “Forrest, no!” Father said.

  Matilda shook her head. “I agree with your father on this.”

  I ignored them. “We have fought this kind of creature in Romania and other countries. We’re good at finding and killing them. And I have been chosen to exterminate such beasts.”

  Shields stared at my box. “Is he a werewolf?”

  I shook my head. “No. He’s a vampire. An undead, and has ties to the cursed things of darkness. That’s why he’s never going to attack during the daytime and why he performs his slaughters late in the night. He’s not a demon, but he opposes everything mortals deem holy.”

  I opened the box. Shields rose and inspected the contents. “These creatures actually exist?”

  “Just like werewolves. And from what I’ve been told, any werewolf in London is to be put to death.”

  He nodded. “But we had no choice in enacting that. Not after the major massacre.”

  “Which is possibly why this vampire has chosen to live in London,” I said.

  “Why?”

  “Werewolves are their primary enemies. Since you’ve essentially banned them from being in London, you’ve opened the door for the vampires to begin taking up residency. You’ve provided them shelter and a plentiful population to feed upon.”

  Shields leaned over the contents of my Hunter box. “Interesting. You really hunt vampires?”

  “We been hired to eradicate them in various cities.”

  “I’ve read the legends of vampires,” Shields said, “but that’s all I thought they were. Legends.”

  “They are very much real.”

  “But don’t they bite to feed off human blood?”

  Jacques nodded. “That is the typical means. When he killed Polly, he was drinking her blood from her gashed throat. That’s when I had come upon him and why I attacked him. But he’s faster and stronger than I had expected him to be.”

  Father stood and winced, taking a few steps toward the bed. “The reason my legs are in such bad shape is due to a vampire beating me to near death with his cane. He shattered my legs, but they didn’t heal properly. I’m a vampire hunter but not like Forrest.”

  Shields eyed me with curiosity. “And what makes you different?”

  “I’m one of the Chosen.”

  “Chosen?”

  Jacques nodded. “Every so often a child is born with such a calling on his life, and he’s destined to eliminate these cursed undead. They have a blessing upon them. They bring balance to our world.”

  “From God?” Shields asked.

  “From a higher power,” I replied.

  “When did you discover you were one of the Chosen?”

  “At eight years of age.”

  He frowned. “So you’ve been fighting them for how long now? Ten years? Fifteen?”

  I smiled. “Almost a year now. I’m still eight years old. Soon to turn nine.”

  Shields frowned from his skepticism. “That’s not possible. You can’t be eight years old.”

  “I really am.”

  Jacques and my father both nodded.

  “I sort of stood out in school, but not in a good way. Most of the children and my teachers didn’t understand my size and intelligence either. I was an outcast from the lot of them.”

  “That’s incredible,” he said. “But you all have my sworn word. What we discuss won’t leave this room.”

  “Good,” Jacques said. “Because there’s more that we need to tell you.”

  Matilda paled. She swallowed hard.

  “Like what?” Shields asked.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Werewolves?” Shields said uneasily. “You and she? Werewolves?”

  Jacques nodded. He lifted a finger while making his point. “I’m not certain what caused the massacre, which has banned our kind in London, but rest assured, constable, the majority of werewolves are rather docile. We don’t wreak havoc upon society. It is not our true nature.”

  “Those did about fifty years ago. They rampaged through the London population, not killing people, mind you, but deliberately infecting others into becoming like them.”

  Jacques shook his head. “You see, that’s unethical. Most of us despise our inner beast. We know it’s a curse. We wouldn’t wish it upon others, not even an enemy. We certainly don’t attempt to inflict our disease upon the world.”

  “They did,” Shields said. “But they were a sordid lot. They were bands of Gypsies seeking refuge who eventually became rebels against the Crown. I think their minds were twisted before they had become werewolves themselves.”

  “That’s possible,” Jacques said. “Once a mentally unstable individual becomes cursed as a werewolf or a vampire, his worst traits are magnified. So a deranged person, a lunatic, inflicts as much carnage upon society as possible. Such people have no remorse for the pain and suffering they cause. Sort of like the vampire we’re hunting now.”

  “You think he was a lunatic prior to being turned into a vampire?” Shields asked.

  “Don’t you, constable? I have no doubts about it,” Jacques said. “He’s not trying to turn these female victims into more vampires. The fact that he’s gutting and butchering them indicates he enjoys their suffering more than anything else. A sane vampire, if such a creature exists, maintains a low profile. They don’t want to draw attention to themselves. This one strives to strike fear into the hearts of society by his gruesomeness.”

  Shields took a sharp breath and nodded. “He’s definitely done that. Our detectives and constables refuse to travel after darkness unless they walk in small groups. But how did this vampire get here?”

  “We think he came ashore on a cargo ship,” I said.

  “Odd. You mentioned that before, and I went to investigate, but I could find no evidence.”

  Jacques smiled. “That may be due to you being a constable.”

  “You found which ship he was on then?”

  “We think we did, but the captain refused to let us inspect his ship.”

  “What led you to believe he was on this ship?” Shields asked.

  “From what the captain described happening during their journey to London. He thought some of his crewmembers had died from the plague. He thought rats had bitten them, but the bite marks he described were what a vampire bite looks like. They threw the bodies overboard, thinking they were dead and hoping no one else became infected.”

  Shields frowned. “You think this vampire is staying on the ship?”

  “Not anymore,” Jacques replied. “He’d be too vulnerable. He’s moved somewhere into the city where he can hide during the day.”

  “I see. Any ideas?”

  “Underground,” I said. “You have a lot of tunnels and caves.”

  Shields returned to the chair and sat down. “I don’t know how we’re going to handle this situation. I mean, how do we go about finding him?”

  “The way London is set up, with all the docks, warehouses, underground tunnels, it will be a tedious process,” Jacques said.

  “And when we find him, then what? I can’t tell my fellow constables that we’re looking for a vampire. If I do, my credibility is ruined as is my career. They’d send me to the asylum. A certain death sentence.”

  “They believe in werewolves, but not vampires?” I asked
.

  “Forrest, we have written accounts of the werewolves and documented reports by officers and royal family members. But no one has ever reported vampires in London. It’s doubtful there are any others outside of this one.”

  “You’d be surprised,” Jacques said.

  Shields glanced at him with wide eyes. “You think so?”

  Jacques nodded. “Like I said, most vampires maintain a low profile. They don’t want others to know they exist. The most frightening aspect is that some of the wealthiest and most influential people in the world are vampires. They have the ability to charm others. With such influence they often achieve high social status.”

  Shields rubbed his eyes. “This day continues to get even more bizarre.”

  “It’s early yet,” I said.

  “Your secrets are safe with me,” Shields said. “But how can you guarantee that our citizens are safe by having werewolves reside here?”

  Jacques tapped the chained medallion on his chest. “This amulet is blessed to keep my inner beast at bay.”

  Shields studied it and then glanced to Matilda. “And you?”

  She pulled hers from her nightgown and revealed it.

  “I see. You both have them?”

  Jacques nodded. “Yes.”

  “And they work?”

  “Like a charm.” Jacques grinned. “The only chance of you seeing us become werewolves is when we confront this vampire. In human form, neither of us are a match for him. In both encounters, he’s proven to me that I cannot overpower him in my human form. But as werewolves, we can do him severe harm, provided we can find him again.”

  Shields sighed. “Parliament should reconsider this werewolf death decree, but any person proposing such would find himself shackled and beaten.”

  “Why do they oppose our kind so fiercely?” Jacques asked.

  “One of the victims was the infant grandson of the Prince. It’s hard to forgive such a brutal attack directed at the Crown.”

  Matilda said, “You might be surprised to know how many werewolves still reside here. Banishment laws won’t prevent them from living here. They just become more cautious and secretive.”

  “People tend to view anyone that’s different with extreme prejudice,” I said. “Judging them without even knowing the truth. It’s part of nature and engrained into our minds before we ever learn to speak. All it takes is for one ruthless member of a culture to tarnish its entire reputation before the world.”

  “Sadly, that’s true,” Shields said.

  “What did you discover at the scene before this one? When you found Jacques’ cane the second time?” I asked.

  “If a murder took place, no body was ever found,” Shields replied. He stood. “So, I can rely upon you to stay and help us find this . . . vampire?”

  We nodded.

  “Even with all of us,” I said. “We’re going to have a difficult time finding him. There are too many hiding places within his hunting grounds, and no way we can be everywhere at the same time.”

  “That’s true,” Shields replied. “But what can my officers do to better protect themselves?”

  “They have silver bullets?” I asked.

  He nodded.

  “Silver won’t kill a vampire, but it hurts them. It slows them down.”

  “Then should I suggest that they be armed to kill werewolves?” he asked. “That could put the two of you into danger.”

  Jacques nodded. “If we get shot, it will kill us. But we’ll be aware of our surroundings.”

  “Insist that they carry garlic,” I said. “Or eat a lot of it.”

  “Garlic? I don’t know that I can be that persuasive. I can try.” He walked over to my Hunter box. “What are all these things?”

  I pointed from item to item. “That’s a vial of holy water. The yellowish liquid is garlic juice. Of course, a silver cross. Several stakes. Mallet. A bottle of blessed salt.”

  “Should I carry a cross?” Shields asked.

  “It wouldn’t hurt,” Jacques said.

  Shields walked to the door. “This visit has been quite . . . educational. As much as I dread it, I must return to the crime scene and the autopsy. At least I have a better idea of what we’re looking for.”

  “Yes, but finding him might be nearly impossible,” Jacques said. “There’s another issue that you need to know.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Active vampires feed daily. He killed the first woman, fed from her, and nothing else happened for over a week.”

  “Correct.”

  Jacques shook his head. “No. He’s still feeding elsewhere. He’s simply not killing them.”

  “People actually allow that?”

  “They won’t remember because a vampire can compel a person and make him or her forget. My assumption is he’s still choosing people in the slums because the constables notice them less. If he’s feeding, they’ll have bite marks on their necks. That’s what we need to be looking for during the daylight. His living victims. How far apart were the two murdered victims?”

  “Several streets from one another. Why?”

  “Then we start scouring the streets in between the two murder scenes. We find his victims, and we might be able to pinpoint his location or narrow down where he might attack next.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Shields said.

  “And if we don’t find these victims, we have an even bigger problem,” Jacques said.

  “Why?”

  “It means he’s siring new vampires, which allows him to feed while propagating his undead children.”

  “You think he is doing that?” Shields asked.

  I nodded. “We think that’s what he was doing on the ship. Those bodies thrown overboard might not have been completely dead. They might have been his offspring waiting for the next sunset to rise.”

  Shields’ mouth dropped open.

  Jacques nodded. “And London thought werewolves were a threat? You’ve not seen true horror until you’ve witnessed what a master vampire can unleash on an unprotected population. Our home country knows the ruthlessness of such bloodthirsty leaders. Werewolves take a month to undergo their first transformation at the first full moon. Vampires within two days. Young ones can become feral and go on vast killing sprees due to their bloodlust, unless the master vampire properly guides them.”

  “Do you think this one will?” Shields asked.

  “Depends upon his ultimate motive. As vicious as he’s killing these women, he might only produce spawns to unleash as much carnage as possible,” Jacques said. “The best we can hope is that we find the master before he creates his own undead army.”

  I grabbed the white oak stake from beneath my father’s pillow and handed it to the constable. He took it and studied it for a few seconds.

  “What do I do with this?” he asked.

  “Through the heart. That’s one way to kill a vampire,” I said. “As I was told, ‘not near the heart, but through it.’”

  Shields’ face paled again. He swallowed hard. “The more I’m learning, the less I like the situation we’re facing.”

  “It’s better than not knowing at all,” I replied.

  Chapter Sixteen

  While in many ways we dressed and looked similar to a lot of the slum population, they readily recognized that we were not. They regarded us with the same skepticism Shields had done when he first encountered us. We were unwelcome outsiders and were treated as such. But it didn’t inhibit our visual search for possible vampire victims.

  Several hours passed and even though we looked for folks with bite marks on their necks or abnormally pale complexions with dark circles under their eyes, we never found anyone the vampire had fed upon.

  The most worrisome part was the long week in between the murders. With as much agility, strength, and speed as this vampire possessed, he needed to feed every night. If no victims were above ground, that meant only one thing. He was building an undead legion.

  “This doesn�
�t make sense,” I said to Jacques.

  “What?”

  “We’ve spent the night at the one cemetery and no new vampires rose from any of the graves.”

  “Yes, but that graveyard was for the wealthier people. Look at the thousands of people that live in the most impoverished section of the city. If any go missing, not many will even notice. So this vampire might lure unfortunates into an underground tunnel, kill and bury them, and then wait for them to awaken in their undead form. Nothing dictates they must be buried in a cemetery, and it would be far less likely he’d allow them to be buried in sacred ground, which is what a church cemetery would be considered.”

  “Then we’re wasting our time looking above ground, aren’t we?” I asked.

  “Quite possibly. But there are dozens of cemeteries.”

  “So instead of hunting and killing the one vampire, we might be up against a dozen or more of them?”

  Jacques nodded. “If he’s fathered more children, yes. They will be distractions or obstacles trying to prevent us from stopping him for some time to come.”

  “After we find Father and Matilda, we should visit Albert and inform him.”

  “They’ve thoroughly inspected all the tunnels within his territory.”

  “I know. But he might point us in a different direction where we could look.”

  “Definitely having no luck up here.”

  “There’s too much territory for us to cover,” I replied.

  “Agreed.”

  Two blocks later, we found my father and Matilda seated at an outside table, drinking tea. I worried about my father because he was having a harder time walking. His legs stiffened quicker, decreasing the distance he could walk before his nagging pain forced him to sit down. Even he had said that he was thankful he was able to walk, but the agony in his eyes indicated he was almost ready to stop walking altogether. The pain was too great.

  A year hadn’t passed since he suffered the baron’s attack, but Father seemed shorter, smaller, like an elderly person slowly drew up. He looked twenty years older around his eyes. His body had grown more frail and withered.

  “Did you find anyone with obvious bite marks?” I asked.