At these times I hated the beast, detested the newness of my parasitic life. It is a precise science knowing when there was enough blood left to ensure the survival of my host, when to force my beast's release. My beast didn't care, it wanted the death, it liked the fear. The harder my prey struggled, the more likely their death. I hated the bastard beast.
With Vanic's guidance, I discovered the restraint that allowed me to want to continue with my life, to manage the bloodlust. My beast wanted to rule me, to bask in the violence. It was when I acknowledged the ruthless killer that control came.
For more than a hundred years, we roamed Western Europe, finally settling in London. By appearances, Vanic was a man of forty years, his age at death. When vampirism took him, it made him bold and brawny. He was well suited for his looks, six feet tall with short cropped blue-black hair just starting to grey. He claimed his eyes were the most changed going from midnight blue to piercing black. His appearance remained unchanged for all of our years together.
But I barely looked twenty-five, and where his features were inky dark, mine were fine and fair. We matched in height and brawn with sinewy muscles bunching beneath pale flesh, but I wore my blond hair longer, just past my shoulders, pulled back in a leather thong. Where Vanic's eyes could bolt you to the ground with his black stare, mine were as grey as the highland mists. But it was the core of my eyes that needed to hide behind dark lenses. We made quite a pair, dark and light, father and son for an eternity.
Chapter Four
True control occurred one evening as my feet clomped through the mud of London's Hyde Park. England had grown from farms to industrialization. It was quite different from our memories, sootier and coarser, the year of the Lord 1796. The great fire of 1666 laid waste to much of the city, its recovery a work in progress.
It took the senseless cruelty against an innocent to rally my conscience to life, that caused the child of the Black Death to rise up to meet injustice. The humanity I thought to be lost forced itself upon me, and it happened quite unexpectedly.
Strolling through the park reminded me of the happy years of my childhood now some two hundred years in the past. Unable to tolerate the sunlight, my body sang in the twilight, taking pleasure in the sights, sounds, and scents of the night. The song of the cicada, the buzz of an insect, the leaves bristling in a light wind flinging droplets from an afternoon rain, and the birds settling in the branches became my music.
My walk led me to a secluded part of the park, and I found what I knew would be the perfect spot for hunting. But sharing the space with me was a man standing and a kneeling young woman who reminded me of the lady who'd cost me my human life.
“Bitch!” Spittle flew from his lips. His cane whipped across her back. “Don't ever question me again! You'll get what I give and nothing more!”
The act caused me to recognize the beast inside myself, the one capable of thoughtless savagery, and filled me with disgust. The crickets stopped chirping, the buzz of flying insects ceased as the predator emerged. The man should have noticed, but instead he continued to grind the cowering woman under his boot heel.
The world narrowed down to what was happening before me.
“I will beat you within an inch of your life! How dare you question me?” The woman's face was already swollen and bruised—it was not her first beating.
“No, husband, please. I promise it will not be spoken of again. I only wish to please you.” She cringed, begging for forgiveness. “It's only that my family starves.”
Then, swift as a striking snake, he raised his gloved hand to strike her once more.
Why was no one stopping this madness? Is this what our world had become?
A sense of chivalry I had all but forgotten reasserted itself, and I found myself between the offending hand and the young woman. My fisted hand tightened over his wrist, his blood pounded below my fingertips, both with anger and fear. It surprised the man, who by appearances was my elder.
“Young man, remove yourself from my sight. This is of no concern to you!” he blustered before brandishing his cane, and I allowed him to pull his hand free. “Leave now or next it will be you who tastes the strength of my cane!” With these words, he'd committed his first fatal error in judgment. There would be tasting, but of a different sort.
“Sir, you are bigger, stronger, and dare I say, much older than this young lady, and yet you treat her worse than an animal. Have you taken leave of your senses? Have you no sense of common decency?” As I spoke to this man, a beast of his own making, I reached down and pulled the woman to my side. She flinched away with fear in her eyes, unsure if she should trust her supposed guardian angel. Life had not been kind to her.
Once again, the man threatened me. “Perhaps you didn't hear me. I said for you to get the hell out of my way. She is mine to do as I please, my wife and property, bought and paid for. I don't need interference from some arrogant young bastard unable to mind his own business.” He swung the cane above my head. My hand shot out, grabbing the cane on its swing down.
“Sir, you do not want me for an enemy,” I whispered mere inches from his face. If the world had quieted before, now a funeral parlor-like silence rang in the air. There was soft menace in my voice, which the man chose to ignore, the second of his mistakes. My beast pressed against my fevered flesh.
“And I repeat, lad, I don't need your kind in my way.” He sneered, assuming he was better than those around him, but his demeanor gave him away for what he was, a bully through and through. His judgment erred three times over.
“You know not who you threaten, sir.” My humanity slowly leaked away as my voice grew to a purring growl. He had provoked my beast for the last time. It no longer pressed outward but clawed inward. It craved violence, too long bound. The hunt stood before it, a breath away from death.
“And you, young pup, need to stay out of my business,” he spoke with disregard, attempted to step around me, the promise held in my eyes unseen.
Again I stepped between the man and young woman, extending my arm. She leaned heavily upon it and we walked away with the man screaming out his frustrations.
“Rebecca, come back. Do you hear me? It will be all the worse for you later!” he grounded out, cane hitting the ground. “If you make me come find you, stupid girl, you'll be sorry!” He raged, slamming the cane's wooden bottom until it splintered, useless.
We slowed and I turned back, my eyes blazing with the need to silence the beast's rage. “Sir, if you are wise, you'll forget you ever knew this young lady.” My beast wanted to take him and I wanted to help it, to hold the man down, rip out his throat, let it have its awful way.
“I'll see you rot in debtor's prison, Rebecca. Mark my words!” He thundered into the night air, sending the flock of birds to search for a new roost.
“Please, maybe it would be better for me...he won't quit until he finds me,” the woman started.
“No, he means to kill you, if not today, then another,” I spoke with quiet confidence. It was the truth. I could read it in his eyes and in hers and in his thoughts. He was already imagining his life without her, other arrangements would have to be made, and she was biding her time until death released her. Her world wasn't a pleasant place to live.
“My name is Vladimir Tepes. Come with me, let my family and I help you. You don't have to stay with the likes of him, now or ever.” The man continued to sputter and curse. Glancing back a single time, I memorized his anger to give it back to him in kind.
The girl turned to me with a shaky smile I knew was seldom used, if only from the frown lines surrounding her mouth. “I'm Rebecca Malkey. I don't know what I did to earn your kindness, but I thank you.”
“Miss, do not think me impertinent, but how did you find yourself at the mercy of a man such as he?” I questioned gently, while escorting Rebecca to our apartments. It was a struggle to keep from returning to the man, he had earned my ire.
“My family is starving to death. I was promised in marriage to
Mr. Malkey, sight unseen, and he was to provide my family with payment.” She shivered. “Ireland is suffering from cursed winters. Our crops are rotted before we can pull them from the ground.” Her gait was slow and painful, evidence of past beatings as well. “He is a foul monster and my family still starves. He's never going to keep his word.” Tears leaked as she revealed her plight.
I slid my arm around her slim shoulders, guiding her as she sobbed. My beast roiled, begging to revisit Mr. Malkey, and from the sounds of it, he would reap what he sowed.
*****
Together, Rebecca and I returned to my home. She remained timid, the abuse worn into her features. “Mrs. Kelley, if you could lend a hand, please?”
The older woman bustled into the room and seeing Rebecca, went into a frenzy of activity. “Mr. Tepes, sir, what has happened to her?” Mrs. Kelley whispered, “Ach, the poor young thing.” She shook her grey haired head.
“Apparently, her husband takes greater liberties than he should. Please take care of her.” I left Rebecca in Mrs. Kelley's competent care. Need ached through me to bring Rebecca's abuser a small piece of justice. My beast smacked its lips, ready for the hunt, and for once, my prey had earned his terrible fortune.
Vampires are not a vengeful breed, we're logical. Everything we do is a survival mechanism. Vengeance holds no meaning; therefore, no need. But when I found vengeance burning like acid in my belly, the feelings caused me to question myself. Was I looking for a reason to unleash my beast? Was it Rebecca's predicament and need? Or my own sick desires? The reaction was intense, quickly calling to me, and it had to be answered.
Maybe there was a reason for my rebirth or the foretelling of my future. Maybe it was meant to be, this call to meet injustice, righting the wrongs. This was a way to exist as a vampire, to accept my nature, with a reason to live.
Chapter Five
With a renewed purpose for my undead life, I started my first hunt for justice: Samuel Malkey. Since the great fire, housing had become deplorable, especially for the poor, most of London's population. Parts of the city were unsafe for human existence, only Vanic's great wealth allowed us to find apartments that were both clean and undamaged.
The Malkey's lived in one of the newly rebuilt areas and this would be where the hunt would begin. A visit to the local constabulary and the exchange of a few coins revealed all I needed to know, enough to make my beast purr, lusting for blood. He was suspected as the cause for more than one death, and those meeting his wrath were always weaker than he. It was time for him to pay the price for the injustices he had wrought.
*****
I found Malkey consoling himself before a small fire, drowsy from inexpensive wine. Empty bottles littered the floor around his feet. Most people think vampires need to be invited into homes, but for that to be true, the home needed impenetrable wards against outsiders, human and vampire alike. It was too easy to push into his home. Without others near or wards for protection, he was as alone and helpless as Rebecca was under his care, such was his good misfortune. He radiated cold hatred, as if a demon possessed his frosty soul.
My feet clomped into the room and Malkey's muddied gaze glared into mine. My beast was eager, and I could almost feel sorry the man, but his destiny was purchased by his actions. He lurched to a stand as recognition seeped in.
“You! You're the young whelp who stole my wife. Where is she? I want her back!” he shouted, staggering. His thoughts turned even uglier, revenge now neared the surface of his demented mind.
“How the hell did you get in my home? Get out. You have no right to be here!” He slipped to his knees, his cane slick to his hands, but he managed to heave himself back up. The air shifted as the cane cut through it, meaning to rap my skull.
Easily leaning back and away, my hand whipped out to grab his throat, letting him experience some of the terror he thrust upon Rebecca. Breathing into his ear, I took in his malodorous stench, whispering, “Hello, Malkey. Is today a good day to die?” My beast, quiet until this moment, growled low in my throat—thirsty for vengeance and to feed.
He roared back, fingernails scraped at my steely grip. “Who the hell are you?” He wheezed out, finally frightened of this strange new creature. My hand opened just a little, and he drew a coughing breath.
My beast reared back and laughed in humorless mirth. His eyes bulged big and round when I removed my glasses, showing him my wondrous eyes. Grey as the highlands mists, their centers burned a glowing red, the same color as hot coals, fiery red when the bloodlust rode over me.
“Malkey, how did you get to be the way you are? Not that it matters.” He squirmed beneath my hand and I let my claws prick his sweaty flesh. Four small beads of rich blood formed and my thumb snaked out to smear them across his throat. The crimson liquid coated it and I brought it to my nose, scenting it, before letting my lips suck it clean. Smiling into his terror filled eyes, I showed the smallest bit of fang so he could wonder what held him in its hand. His scent grew pungent with fear, alcoholic sweat beaded his wrinkled forehead and sallow cheeks.
“What the hell are you?” he whispered with a choked breath, eyes widening with dread as he struggled for release. His anxiety washed over me and my own eyes squeezed closed, relishing the feeling. My beast inhaled to taste his panicked horror, reveling in the emotion so strong it tingled along my rippling flesh. My shoulders rolled in sweet relief, my beast leaned in to lap the freshly formed beads once again staining his throat.
“Please, I'll do anything you want, give you anything I have, anything you need,” he begged, “I have friends, I can get money...”
My fingers tightened once again, and he gagged as air was denied, life slowly leaking away. “You have nothing I want, nothing I need, except for Rebecca. She'd like her freedom, she deserves it.” Hunger screamed through my body with a fresh taste of his blood, my nostrils flared with its coppery scent. My beast threatened at the end of its short leash, ready to give way. My shoulders rolled again involuntarily and my skin itched. Soon it would spring free.
“Fine, I'll let her go, send her back to her family, anything you want,” he choked out, giving me a greasy, yellowed smile, victory within his grasp. He started to relax, a bargain struck. Another advantage of vampirism, knowing your prey's thoughts, his were as crooked as a thief.
“Not. This. Time!” I grounded out between clenched teeth. My beast burst free with surprising strength. Fangs extended, long and cruel. Without a second thought, I plunged into the supple flesh of his throat. His blood was warm, pungent and sweet to my palate, my senses careened with the salty flavor. I lifted my face, relished the feeling of his blood, coating my throat, burning in my veins, coursing through my body, heady with drunkenness. My beast plunged again and again, until his torn flesh began to chill, his throat laid open. Death had him and there wasn't a more deserving soul.
With my heart hammering, Malkey died in my grasp as the last of his blood emptied into me. His cruelty wouldn't frighten anyone, not ever again. Funny how death does that, equalizing the inequalities. He died unable to make a sound, his throat gone, understanding budding in his glazed eyes. His body sank to the floor in a useless heap of flesh, bone, and clothing.
There was little blood spilled, my beast had been tidy. A single drop stained my lapel, hardly noticeable, but the coppery scent remained. Before it could take control again, I quickly shoved it back,its purpose at an end.
A moth eaten rug became Malkey's burial shroud, and I eased his empty body over my shoulder. With preternatural speed, I reached the outskirts of London. There was no name for this place that stank of the old and rotting. Flames licked the moldering mound of garbage where Malkey found his final resting place. The stink of garbage and charred animal flesh removed the coppery odor lingering in the air.
It was with Malkey's death that I realized, I was who I was, and nothing, not time, distance, or change of place could alter the cold hard facts of life. I was and will always be from the moment of my death, vampire. And I
wasn't sorry.
Chapter Six
Never did I go looking for injustice, but somehow it seemed to find me. Rebecca stayed on with us, helping Mrs. Kelley and her husband until one day, our time in London was over. They were well paid and wouldn't have a need to work further. Rebecca chose to stay with the Kelley’s. She'd become as close to them as a child to their parents, a decision I could easily understand. We would become a glimmer of a memory in their lives.
For another hundred years, we roamed Europe marveling at the changes, new technologies, modern wonders. And when it was necessary, I'd balance the scales.
In 1889, we attended the Exposition Universelle in Paris. It was a magnificent achievement. Vanic found the wonder of Eiffel's Tower to be to his taste.
“It's a tremendous thing.” We stood one evening at its base, a metal monster towering over Paris. “It's been said if one could stand upon its point, the whole of Paris could be witnessed. Mr. Eiffel himself claimed it to be the tallest building in the world.” He grinned at me and as the city settled, we scaled the tower's height, barking laughter as we clung to its precipice to see for ourselves. It was a glorious feeling of wonderment to look over the city we knew so intimately, yet it was so different from our memories.
When injustice found me, I'd help where I could, hunt when I needed. On a crisp autumn night while making my way through the city, soft crying greeted my ears, the coppery scent of blood assaulted my nostrils, drawing me. I wandered over the broken bricks lining the walkway to an alley where bits of litter gathered in the corners, rats scurried away with my approach. On the hardened ground lay a small lump of humanity. Cautiously, I approached the small mound to discover a woman, beaten and broken, covered in crimson liquid that was as life sustaining to her as it was to me, but she was fading. Her heart's beat was thready but her small hand reached out to me.
“Please,” she begged and shivered.
Vlad Tepes, the Vigilante Vampire Page 3
