She sat chewing her lower lip for a second. “What about vampires having no reflection in a mirror?”
“No, how could that possibly be? We are governed by the same laws of physics as every other creature on this planet. We are solid, tangible beings so how could we not have a reflection. This again is nothing more than a perversion of the truth. As our appearances slowly evolve from human to something more vampyric, some prefer not to see what they have become. They try to avoid mirrors, to avoid being reminded of whom they once were. So this tendency has been distorted into the belief that we have no reflection.”
It seemed that talking of his human past made him sad and the gleam in the corner of his eyes faded as his thoughts drifted far away, to a different person in a different life. She tried to bring him back to her. She placed a gentle hand on his arm; the coolness of the touch, the immovable form, the thrill of danger.
“And garlic?”
“Again, not necessarily true,” he smiled and she felt a flush. “I was born in France after all. I was brought up on it. It did me no harm then and it does me no harm now. However there is a high tendency amongst vampires to develop severe allergic reactions to some herbs and to garlic in particular. This again has developed into the belief that garlic will lay us all low but no, garlic is not exactly the vampyric silver bullet that you are led to believe, if you'll pardon me mixing my gothic metaphors.” Again the ghost of a smirk.
“I guess it’s also not true then that a stake through the heart of a vampire will kill it?”
“Ah, this one is true, but then if you stab most creatures through the heart with a stake it will have much the same effect, no? Again, we are real, tangible creatures; if you prick us, do we not bleed?”
Like him, she had become very aware of the proximity of their bodies and the overpowering feeling of being so near to him. It reminded her of going on holiday in South Africa when she had been a child. Her family had visited a safari ranch and she had an opportunity to pet a young lion. The majestic animal was only a few months old but already it was the size of a large dog. Its paws were bigger than her hands and although at that time in its heart it was still a playful cub, she was nevertheless acutely aware that within a heartbeat it could turn and savage her and nobody could do a damn thing to prevent it. Being so close to someone so potentially unstoppable and dangerous, someone that she barely knew and had no discernible reason to trust, was powerfully emotive and maybe for this reason she felt constantly faint and heady. His company really was irresistible though and she found herself hanging on his every word. When he paused she wanted to hurry him along and it was not only because the subject matter was fascinating. Also she found him intensely charismatic. She could not help but wonder what he had been like when he was still human. Had he been handsome? Had he been this mesmerising? Had he been married? She dared not ask him though and she hoped he could not detect her thoughts now.
“What about reading people’s minds? True or false?”
“Reading minds, false. No. One’s thoughts are private and it is not possible to actually determine them. They are confined within your brain - again, the basic laws of our planet. We do, however, become very good at predicting what you are thinking. Just as some humans are trained to tell if another person is lying, we look for subtle signs such as a nervous tic in your eye, a slight pout of the lips, or an unconscious toss of your hair.” At the mention of each body part he reached forwards and gently touched the corresponding area on her, and with each movement she had to hold her breath to stop herself from gasping. She could feel the slight stir of wind as he moved his hand delicately about her body like a butterfly passing gracefully by.
“After generations of practice we are far better than the most accomplished amongst you, and so it may seem that we can read your mind, but we cannot.”
“And hypnosis? Putting us under a spell so that we do whatever you want?”
To Sebastian it virtually sounded as though she was asking him to do just that, pleading to have her will denied her so that she would become complicit to his every desire, or was his mind playing tricks on him. Exactly who was hypnotizing whom?
“Even amongst humans there are very accomplished hypnotists, so this is true, yes. But again, after generations of practice and a more acute eye we have become considerably better than a human could ever be. We do not call it hypnotizing however, we call it ‘charming’. Have you heard of a process called ‘mirroring’?”
She nodded. She had heard it mentioned on a TV programme about psychology but was not exactly clear what it was.
“Mirroring is something that occurs in normal human interaction all the time. For example when you are out for a drink with a friend with whom you get on well, or perhaps,” he waved at the room around them with an expression that may have been flirtatious, “when you are sat in a cold, lonely guardroom at night, and especially if you find the other person attractive. You may tend to copy each other’s posture, mannerisms and suchlike. The other person leans forwards in their chair so you unconsciously lean forwards. They take a drink and you do the same. This is natural and happens all the time.
“The more that the two people do it, the more positive each will subconsciously feel. If you therefore control this mirroring, do it consciously and exaggerate it, then you can influence how the other person feels and acts. We vampires call this ‘magnifying’. We consciously, but subtly, mimic the movements of the other. We copy their facial expressions, we can control our pupils’ dilation to match the subtle dilation of the other. We can slow down or speed up our heartbeat to equal their pulse and we breathe at the same intervals. And then we would quickly increase all of these things to magnify them.
“Then we go further, what we call ‘preceding’. If you are going to take a drink from a glass for example I will perhaps have noticed you lick your lips a moment before, see your quick glance at the glass and the muscles tense and twitch before your hand has actually moved. I can move much faster than you, so I then move my hand to my glass before you do and it feels as though you are unconsciously mirroring me. This way your subconscious already believes that I am in control of you and your mind will accept it unequivocally, and you will be charmed.”
“Really?”
“Touch your cheek.”
“What?”
“Either cheek, with either hand. Touch it. Quickly.”
She looked him in the eye for a long moment then suddenly, as fast as she could, reached up to her right cheek with her right hand. His hand was already there, softly held against her warm skin and she hardly saw it move in the dimly lit guardroom. He held it there whilst holding her eyes, then slowly, with a pained expression, removed it and placed it back in his lap.
“Your most accomplished human hypnotists can put someone under in less than a minute. The best of us can achieve this in mere seconds.”
“Does it work on anyone?”
“In theory it should but there are limits. We need to be able to see the other person and for them to see us in order to charm them, at least initially, although afterwards other senses such as smell or hearing can be enough to illicit the memory of being charmed and reestablish that state. It works better on someone who already feels comfortable and positive towards us or is even attracted by us. However if the person to be charmed is angry, has some other heightened state of negative emotion or if they have a mental impairment then it is far more difficult.”
“But you said the other day you had not used it on me.”
“No. I have not; not deliberately.”
“Do you do it without meaning to?”
“I think that if one wants something then unconsciously one may sometimes act in a certain way. But also I think that it is so ingrained in us, it is so much second nature, that maybe we do it without even thinking. I apologise.”
He lowered his head and she had to stop herself from throwing her arms around him to dispel any ill-feeling. As far as she was concerned he had most certainl
y done her no wrong. Although, was that due to her already having been charmed?
“So what about crucifixes then? Holy water, all that kind of stuff? Are you repulsed by it all?”
He shook his head, sadly. “Untrue. We do not fear the crucifix and holy water does us no harm. After all, we are all God’s creatures, are we not? If you believe in an all-powerful creator then we were all made by the same God. So why should we vampires, who started out life as humans after all, be so shunned? In fact my clan has taken up refuge in a Roman Catholic church in Bishop’s Stortford at this very moment.”
“Wow,” she raised her eyebrows in surprise. “You have really made me see vampires in a totally different light. I guess much of what we believe is, as you say, based on films and books, but it is absolutely fascinating to hear the clear-headed facts. It seems as though you have just acquired this…” she searched for a word, trying not to offend him, “…this condition of the blood and it makes your bodies develop in a way that normal humans never do. So could you be cured of it? Is there not an antidote that would change your blood back to normal?”
“No, there is not. The turning involves too much of a change to ever reverse. Furthermore, our bodies then evolve and we live too long for us to ever be able to return. We have left our human lives far behind us and we are entirely altered now. For us it is not simply a matter of an infection in the blood. It is in the essence of our very beings, our souls, it is who we have become. Unlike the others out there.” He waved a hand vaguely indicating outside of the station.
Collins was now brought back to the reality of their current situation. She was taken aback by his reference to the infected. “How much do you know of them?”
“We vampires do have access to televisions, even in the murky underworld of society that we tend to inhabit. I have seen how the drug Mnemoloss has had terrible side-effects and the pathetic attempt at making good the situation by the GVF Laboratories. I have watched with dismay as human society has crumbled and dissolved into what we face now. I have witnessed on the television and first hand, brutalities committed by both the infected, as you call them, and by normal people alike.”
“I didn’t realise. I mean, I guess I hadn’t thought that you would watch TV. So you know all about the drug and the GVF labs then?”
He noted her interest in the company responsible for the downfall, the way her eyebrows arched as she leaned in slightly but made no comment. He merely nodded somberly.
For some time the two of them had forgotten the horrors outside the small circle of light cast by the candles on the desk but this had brought them back to reality. So drawn in by her was he that he almost failed to hear the faint sounds from outside the guardroom, an intake of breath and the light scuff of a shoe, sounds that ordinarily he would have detected long before. Lately he had been getting very sloppy; this was not the first time he had failed to detect noises in the night, and it would not be the last. However, he did hear the soft sound of a footstep, imperceptible to a human's ears, as it approached. He sprang to his feet making her squeal in alarm. He span round to face the door as it slammed open. A torch shone in their eyes and the candle quivered and went out.
From behind the blinding torch light Denny’s voice screeched, sounding strained and cracked. “Stand fast or I’ll shoot!” He barely had time to get the words out.
Sebastian leapt as the thunderclap of a shot filled the small room, momentarily deafening Collins. He let out a ferocious snarl that sounded primeval and lunged at the figure in the doorway. A second shot rang out and Collins cowered down and screamed, covering her ears with her hands. There was a flurry of activity and the door banged shut plunging her into stunned darkness.
In one smooth movement Sebastian had lashed out with a well-placed kick and sent the gun flying, then leapt forwards, landing right on top of Denny. He picked him up effortlessly by the scruff of his jacket and thrust him out into the black night. He hoisted Denny up, his feet flapping in mid-air. No more the beatific confidant; in a heart-beat he had transformed into the consummate killer, such is the case when one consorts with wild animals. His features contorted into a mask of rage and venom. His eyes blazed and his lips drew back from his deadly teeth as he brought their faces close. A bestial growl burst forth from the depths of his chest and Denny would have sunk to the ground if Sebastian did not have an iron grip on him. Denny cowered as the breath from this stranger stirred across his face and he grimaced in terror, preparing for his death.
“Count yourself extremely fortunate, human.” The voice was dry and deep, like an abandoned well, and made him tremble as he squeezed his eyes shut. “On any other day you would be dead already.”
Denny gasped but could summon no words and a moment later the demonic figure released him, shoving him forcefully back into the night. He dropped the torch and winded himself as he hit the ground, paralysed for a moment in the darkness. He lay expecting the death-blow that never came. The creature vanished. There was no sound of retreating footfalls, just the rushing of blood in his ears. Then after a few seconds of gasping for air he started to scrabble in panic for his torch. His fingers closed on the cold metal and he shone it wildly around but there was no absolutely sign of the terrifying stranger. He frantically recovered his pistol and again looked out into the night as he retreated, shaking, to the guardroom, stumbling through the door before slamming it shut behind him. His pulse was racing, his hands were damp with sweat and he felt nauseous but something inside him had snapped. On top of the stresses from the past weeks and the fear of the infected, the fright from this latest encounter had been too much. There was a distant well of anger about to start bubbling up like an air pocket released in a pool of magma, rising to the surface with unstoppable purpose.
CHAPTER 19
Lewis was woken by a loud banging on his door. He leapt out of bed, startled and initially unsure as to where he was or what was happening.
“Lewis, open the door.”
“Okay, okay, hold on.”
“Now!”
He cracked the door open and a torch shone in his face, making him squint. “What’s going on?”
“Get dressed.”
“Yes sir.”
“Hurry.”
Lewis slipped on a tracksuit and opened the door again. Denny stood outside his room, glaring in the dark at Collins who had a sullen look on her face and stood leaning back against the wall.
“What’s going on?” he repeated his question.
“She was on guard duty. I caught her talking to the devil.”
“What? What do you mean?” Lewis was still trying to wake up and this whole situation all seemed a little too surreal for him to take in, standing in a corridor in the middle of the night talking by torchlight about trysts with Lucifer. Too surreal. And Denny was not making matters any better. He seemed virtually unhinged as he flinched and paced restlessly.
“There was someone in the guardroom with her, an evil man who tried to kill me, he looked like a demon.”
Denny was now sounding hysterical, his voice was rising and falling manically and Lewis noticed nervously that he was fidgeting with the pistol he clutched at his side.
“Okay, look let’s all calm down, go to your office and talk about this.”
“No, first we have to go and get Bannister. He’s in league with the Devil as well, I’m sure of it.”
“What on earth are you talking about?”
“You’ll see, follow me.”
Denny burst into Bannister’s room without knocking and to Lewis’s astonishment Bannister was indeed actually getting dressed. A candle was lit on the bedside table and he was sat on the bed just pulling his shoes on. He looked up in shock as the door flew open.
“What are you doing Bannister? Why are you getting dressed?” Denny was highly excited and angry, he was shrieking and sounded completely out of control.
Bannister looked sheepishly at Lewis and Denny and then noticed Collins standing in the shadows. He immediatel
y stood up.
“What’s she told you?” he asked angrily. “Don’t listen to her.”
“More to the point Bannister, where are you intending to go at this time of night?” Lewis asked, trying to keep the situation under control. “Exactly why are you getting dressed?”
Bannister slumped back onto the bed with a sullen expression like a schoolboy who has just been caught smoking on school premises. “I wasn’t going anywhere, I couldn’t sleep so was just going to take a turn of the grounds.”
“You’re a liar,” Denny strode forwards and shouted in his face. “You’re in league with the Devil as well.”
To Lewis’s surprise Bannister did not directly counter the accusation but seemed to become irate himself. He stood up again and his voice started to rise as well; but more than that it seemed as though it was not actually Bannister speaking any more. His voice took on a different character, subtly more melodic, more commanding and sonorous somehow. His air was that of someone with a higher purpose.
“You haven’t got a clue what you’re talking about old man. You’re confused and speaking about things that you really don’t understand.”
“Watch your tongue boy; I’m your commanding officer.”
“Be that is it may, I’m still going out for a walk.”
Bannister stepped forwards and made to go around Denny but Denny swiftly brought his pistol up and aimed it right into Bannister’s face. “I don’t think you’re going anywhere.”
Collins screamed and there were the sounds of doors opening in the dark, somewhere along the corridor. Denny called over his shoulder to the anonymous observers. “Go back to bed, there’s nothing to see here,” but it was already too late. From out of the night another voice sounded nearby.
“Hey there, what’s all the fuss about guys?”
Millington’s distinctive, easy-going drawl seemed to clear the tension somewhat and Bannister’s confrontational stance lessened. Behind Millington stood Wood and Leading Aircraftman Scovell, both peering curiously at the scene being played out. Wood tried to catch Collins’s eye but she stared resolutely at the floor, unwilling to meet his glance.
The Blood of the Infected (Book 2): Once Bitten, Twice Live Page 22
