“There was only one door that led in,” Jacques replied.
I nodded. “Yes, but the light from up here shone through several large holes. Those are probably somewhere in this garden where part of the ground fell through, so we need to take caution where we step as we leave.”
Jacques sighed and stared at the cellar door. He shook his head. “It’s quicker if we go back the way we came.”
“Also more deadly. You two need more time to recuperate.”
“I feel fine,” Jacques said. He glanced at Matilda. “How about you?”
She shrugged but her eyes drooped heavily.
“She’s not alert enough, Jacques. You’re an older werewolf, so you recover quicker than she does.”
“Maybe so, but where are we? How do we get out of this place? I will wager the place has a fence around it. Once we get over that, which direction do we head?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know but we’ll figure it out.”
Jacques studied the perimeter. “Your father’s probably quite sore at us right now.”
“Maybe not,” I replied.
“He stays that way anymore, Forrest.”
“But he’s kept his promise to stop drinking, which might be in part to his abstinence.”
Jacques nodded. “Abstinence does increase one’s temper and hostility when his mind and body yearns for a drink.”
“Depending upon his anger, he might start to spite me and visit a pub.”
“Maybe we can find him before he allows such temptation.”
“Albert was here while you slept.”
“Really?” Jacques said.
“Yes. He promised to send his were-rat sons to tell Father of our delay.”
“That’s good, I suppose, but why was he here?”
“To tell me that he killed the wandering young man in the tunnel,” I replied.
Matilda gasped. “Why’d he do that?”
“He said that we should have killed him.”
“Oh?” Jacques narrowed his gaze. “Why?”
“He insists that the man was marked and being controlled by the vampire. He not only feeds from him, but he can see through his eyes.”
“I never sensed that about him, but considering how close he was to the four vampires we killed, that’s probably true,” Jacques replied. “And if that old building is the vampire’s lair—”
I placed a hand on his shoulder. “Look. Since we’re standing over the room where the vampires were, we need to get out of here. I don’t believe you’re ready to confront this angered vampire yet.”
Jacques frowned at me. “I’m tired but . . .”
“Cousin, I’m not trying to undermine your abilities or add insult to injury, but twice you’ve faced him without fatigue and it has not been to your advantage.”
His jaw tightened, but instead of ensuing into a heated argument, he nodded. “You’re right.”
“Which way should we go?” I asked.
“Well, Forrest, due to the thick trees on this side of the garden, there’s no reaching a fence in that direction. The same holds to the area on the other side of the cellar door. So either we walk in the direction of the building, which leads us farther away from our destination, or we go to the right and hope for the best.”
“There’s really no alternative.”
We walked several hundred yards past the gardens, narrowly missing two drop-offs where the ground had collapsed. The fall probably wouldn’t have killed Matilda or Jacques, since they healed quickly. But I never would have survived it. These holes were probably why the master vampire had left his children in the crumbling cellar. Should a human or any large beast fall through, their bodies would be broken and bleeding, offering the young vampires food without having to hunt.
While we made our way across the field, I thought about Albert’s suggestion for me to become a were-creature. I couldn’t imagine living a life like he was. I didn’t want to be a rat, nor did I think I’d want to be a werewolf. Regardless of the advantages, I liked the less complications of remaining a human. Sorting through the intuitive voices that often spoke inside my mind was challenge enough. I didn’t need to worry about turning into another creature in the wrong place at the wrong time. I didn’t understand how Jacques had accepted his radical life-altering evolution as calmly as he had.
It was obvious that Matilda had not. But she didn’t flaunt her resentment toward him any longer. Perhaps it was because he had returned to help her.
We reached the edge of the property line where a row of jagged uncut privet hedges presented a great deterrent to keep people out. In our case, they protested our departure.
Jacques glanced toward me. “Facing the vampire appears to be a better strategy to me.”
I touched one of the sharp branches and released it. The thick hedges didn’t look normal. Knives had not sharpened the tips nor had nature caused the abnormality. The privet towered twenty feet, forming a tight fence that lined this side of the perimeter. The tall, spindled branches wrapped around one another and prevented any space in between the lower trunks. None of us could even wedge a foot into the privet to attempt to find a path.
Matilda waved her hands in counter-opposite circular motions while whispering a chant. She stopped a few seconds later. “A magical barrier has been placed here.”
“What?” I asked.
She nodded.
“Can you get past it?” Jacques asked.
“I can try,” she replied. “But working an incantation might take a few minutes.”
“We might not have that much time,” I replied.
“Why?” they both asked, staring at me.
I pointed.
In between the building and the overgrown garden stood the silhouette of a man wearing a top hat. His cape ruffled in the breeze as he walked in our direction.
The vampire had seen us, and he was coming. Fast.
Chapter Twenty-One
Matilda closed her eyes tightly, held her hands toward the privet, and chanted in a language I didn’t recognize.
Jacques and I stood with our backs to her, watching the well-dressed vampire take swift, unfaltering steps down the hill toward us. The gracefulness of his approach made him appear to be walking on air. The half moon was mid-sky, providing enough light to reveal his determined shadow. He carried a sword at his right side.
I pulled stakes from my pockets.
Jacques hand went to his medallion. He gripped it, ready to yank it from his neck. If the situation became necessary for him to change, I feared what the vampire would do to him. Jacques was too weak to hold his own. Transforming to a werewolf at this point would weaken him even more. While the vampire had spared Jacques twice before, it didn’t guarantee he would a third time, especially not after we had killed his offspring.
From the way the vampire dressed and how he carried himself, he wished to establish his superiority over others through fear and by flaunting his strength. To effortlessly render a werewolf unconscious twice and not kill the wolf was meant as jeering his dominance while insinuating how weak his werewolf opponent was. Such continuous downplay ignited fury from the underdog, goading him into future attacks, only to stoke the vampire’s pompous ego more and more each time the vampire was the victor.
The vampire continued toward us. He flung his left arm forward. His eyes glowed red. He leaped toward me with his mental power, trying to coax and caress my mind, but the tendrils failed to take hold and slipped away. His next wave of energy was filled with rage at my refusal to yield. His intent was to break and maim, but again I resisted.
“Are you making any progress?” Jacques asked.
“Yes,” she whispered.
The vampire stopped. He was less than twenty yards away. If he chose, he could cross that distance before I snapped my fingers. He was that old and held such ability. But yet, he lingered from the distance. He was sizing us up.
I lowered the stake in my right hand, dropping it into my pocket. I reac
hed into my pocket and brought out my silver cross. My ears tingled. Invisible feathery wisps glided around my neck and face. Again, he reached subtly but not unnoticed. My jaws tightened, and I thrust at his approaching grasp. Before he withdrew his reach, I placed the silver cross against my right ear. His fingerlike projections recoiled from around my head and retreated. Instead of fleeing into the night like I had hoped, he continued walking toward us.
“Hurry,” Matilda said.
Jacques turned, saw the narrow opening that had appeared in the hedge wall, and dove through. Once he was on the other side, I followed, but I was a bit slower due to my size.
“You should have taken my measurements beforehand,” I said, staring at Matilda. I grinned. “I’m stuck.”
“Sorry,” she said.
She grabbed my left arm while Jacques reached around my chest from behind. I pressed my elbows against his arms to brace his hold. He tugged. The vampire sprinted toward us.
“Why can’t you weigh what a normal eight-year-old weighs?” Jacques said, straining and pulling. He had me midway through the privet row. Sharp-tipped branches forked all around me, and remarkably they didn’t snag my pants or overcoat. Where my body was no longer inside the hedgerow, the branches lengthen and began resealing the gap Matilda had opened.
“The vampire is getting closer,” I said.
“I see that.” Jacques groaned and pulled.
The vampire rushed to the edge of the closing hole and reached to grab my boots. He howled in pain, yanking back his hands. The sharp tips of the hedges hurled toward him, stabbing into his flesh, drawing blood.
Jacques yanked once more and my feet hit the ground. He eased me down and gulped deep breaths. I rose to my feet with my cross and stake ready. But we faced no battle tonight. The long winding privet branches coiled and struck like snakes, jabbing their pointy dagger tips at the vampire. If he attempted to squeeze through, these branches would stake him to death or distract him with enough significant injuries that we could properly stake or decapitate him.
His attention was on the hedges and not us. It wasn’t going to let him pass, and because of its precarious mass of stabbing branches, we weren’t able to cross toward him, either. Not that we wanted to. But for added measure, I reached into my inside pocket and retrieved a vial of holy water. I hurled it through the winding privet limbs. The bottle struck one branch and shattered. A showering mist of holy water coated the vampire’s face. He growled and wiped his skin with his satin gloves. While he tried to remove the water from his peeling flesh, several sharp hedge tips struck him, forcing him to flee back uphill.
Jacques rested his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.
I patted his shoulder. “You still think you could have fought him tonight?”
Jacques shook his head. “Do you carry rocks in your pockets?”
I laughed.
“You’ve packed on incredible weight. You’re padded with thick muscle. It’s no wonder you eat like you do.”
I shrugged and walked to where Matilda stood examining the privet. Since the vampire had run away, the privet limbs had grown still. “What had appeared to be an impenetrable obstacle turned out to be our ally.”
She smiled and nodded.
“Any idea who enchanted it?” I asked.
“No,” she replied. “Another witch cast the magical shield on the hedgerow. Apparently someone knows the vampire is there.”
“And that witch lives on this side of the fence, trying to ensure the vampire doesn’t seek victims in this direction,” I said. “We could use another ally.”
“Careful,” Matilda said. “You need to remember witches prefer solitude and privacy. They won’t risk public attention due to the prejudices and the brutal trials of yesteryears. You stand a greater chance of gaining a curse than cooperation.”
I nodded.
“Silent allies are often better,” Jacques said. “They can aid you without your knowledge. Since vampires can occasionally invade the mind, they can discover your strengths and weaknesses. And while we often believe our friends and allies are our strengths, they can become our greatest weaknesses. You know why.”
“Yes. Those closest to us are the ones our enemies seek to destroy first. Striking loss and sorrow devastates and drops our guard,” I replied.
“Exactly. Which is why your mentor, Dominus, walks an isolated path.”
“That’s a hard destiny to maintain.” Without wording it, I knew my walk would probably be similar to Dominus’. A part of me had come to accept that. Walking alone as a hunter, I didn’t put other people’s lives in danger. Just my own.
“It is,” Jacques said. He glanced toward Matilda. “And it’s another reason why I thought you were safer without me.”
Sadness filled Matilda’s eyes.
“But I was wrong.”
“Before you two get lost in each other’s arms again, let’s meet with my father. Regardless of Albert sending him a message, he’s going to have a fit when we get there.”
Jacques sighed. “He will.”
I took a few more moments studying the privet. I slid my silver dagger from its sheath on my belt and sliced off a long slender limb. The width of the wood was thicker than my thumb. I tried to bend it but the sturdiness held like steel. Odd. When the hedge was attacking the vampire, branches thicker than this one were as pliable as dough.
I tucked the cut branch inside my coat pocket and joined the others on the dark cobblestone alleyway. We walked past a block of old rundown buildings. Other than the curiosity of rats and a few startled night birds, nothing stirred. But in the distance we heard faint melodies and music. Once we entered the next street, things were a bit different. The music was louder. People stood around burning fires, laughing and sharing stories. Others danced and clapped their hands in time to the music. A man stood on a wooden crate playing a fiddle, differently than I had ever heard before. Women and children smiled and laughed in celebration. It had been the only laughter I had heard in quite a few days.
Unlike the dark streets of Whitechapel, wherever we were now, these people seemed less threatened by the stalking murderer. There was happiness here, even though they were poor like the folks in Whitechapel, but you couldn’t see it on their faces or in their actions. In spite of their living conditions, radiance blazed through them greater than any star twinkled on the darkest night. The joyous mood was infectious, lifting heavy hearts, soothing hungry bellies, and drying the tears of the hopelessly downtrodden. The sound was spiritual and almost hypnotic, capturing the listener like a seductive siren.
I found myself drawn in, smiling. With a slight breeze a prickling sensation touched the base of my skull, causing me to stiffen and pulled my attention away from the street festivities. I felt the presence of magic, similar to Matilda’s, but dangerously deceptive. I wondered if she sensed it as well. Probably, since she was a witch.
But for fear of drawing the attention of strangers, I didn’t dare ask.
Witches often were capable of identifying one another without drawing attention to themselves. As a Hunter, my acute senses alerted me to practitioners, and the more vampires I slayed, the clearer this recognition became. But the worrisome part for what I had just felt was I had not detected it sooner, before we had gotten this deep into an unknown section of the city.
From the corner of my eye, I watched Matilda, wondering when or if she’d feel what I had. We took a few more steps, and she gasped slightly with an almost muffled sound. She tugged Jacques’ arm.
“What is it?” he asked, looking to her.
“We need to leave this area now.”
The music, singing, and dancing suddenly stopped, as if the pan’s magical flute had broken. All eyes gazed toward us. The cheerfulness faded and was replaced by their disdain. We were intruders.
When we turned to change direction, six men with tattooed faces lined the alley behind us. More men stood behind them with torches. Where they had come from, I had no idea.
But with the harshness in their gazes and the crude weapons in their hands, we weren’t about to walk or talk our way past them.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Jacques stood, leaning slightly forward, which I had learned to be his charge stance. Even in human form he was swift and faster than most men. As a werewolf, none of them would ever see him move. That is, if he weren’t already exhausted from his earlier fight.
I pulled my dagger since it was the best weapon I had against humans.
“What do you want?”
“That’s a question reserved for you to answer,” the tanned skin man replied.
He gripped a piece of heavy metal. The top end had been flattened and sharpened. It had a longer reach than my dagger.
“We’re heading to Whitechapel,” I replied.
The man shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
I tipped my hat back slightly and frowned. “And why not?”
“Because you reek of blood and magic,” a woman said from behind us.
I turned slightly so I could see her while keeping an eye on the human roadblock. She was an older woman with golden rings on most of her fingers. She wore gold bracelets. Her silver hair was bunted and covered with a black cloth pinned by a gold pendant. Her skin was dark and her accent thick. She was what Father, Jacques, and I were continually called. A Gypsy.
“Blood has been shed this evening. It drifts on the night air. It permeates from you,” she said, pointing at me.
“I have killed no one,” I replied.
She frowned, studying me. Her eyes softened but her face contorted with confusion. “You tell the truth, but why does the smell of blood linger on you?”
I thought about Albert and his blood-covered hands. It was possible that he might have inadvertently touched me. But I couldn’t reveal that without exposing Albert. Residing underground was bad enough without the added interruptions of curious people that might seek to find him.
“I don’t know,” I replied. “But if you wish, you’re welcome to search me for blood?”
Two of the men with weapons stepped forward but she sternly shook her head. “No. A respectable man should be taken at his word.”
Forrest Wollinsky: Vampire Hunter [Book 2]: Blood Mists of London Page 13
