All Rotting Meat

by Maleham , Eve

  ‘He could just run away and kill again if we let him go,’ Khalida said.

  ‘Okay,’ Mitch said, turning to Intuneric, ‘she has a point but here’s what will happen when you try. The second we think you’re making a run for it, we will freeze all of your bank accounts and anonymously tell the police that you’re an armed terrorist. You won’t be able to pass through any boarder points. We’ll also inform the American authorities that you’re the man wanted for five murders across the States. And while we’re at it, we’ll inform all of the criminals and hunters who will pay thousands of dollars to have you killed where you are as well. And that’s all if we don’t get to you first. We can hack into the CCTV of your apartment building and keep tabs on when you leave and return. You’ll keep your phone on you at all times so we can track you through that. If we see you withdrawing large amounts of cash, if we see you travelling anywhere near any airport or port or the fucking Eurostar, if at any point we decided that we just don’t like you then we will fuck you.’

  ‘Okay, okay, I got it,’ Intuneric said. ‘Jesus. So, we have a deal then?’

  Khalida glanced over at Mitch who nodded.

  ‘We have a deal.’

  Intuneric grinned and rose lopsidedly to his feet, wincing slightly at the holy water burn on his leg. Khalida’s hands tightened around the stake.

  ‘Easy, sweetheart, we’re on the same side now,’ he said. He took a step closer to her, beckoning his hand up at her. ‘Look, we’ve got to shake on this.’

  Khalida grimaced and raised her hand to his. His fingers were long and strong.

  ‘So, Intuneric,’ she said. ‘What do you know?’

  ‘There’s a vampire who lives down in Limehouse,’ he said. ‘She’s called Zhu Ling and she’s a bitch. But more importantly for you she’s fairly well-connected. Just go to her house sometime around two in the afternoon, she’ll be asleep I promise, and you’ll be able to find a ton of stuff there.’

  ‘A ton of stuff?’ Khalida asked, eyebrow raised.

  ‘Documents,’ Intuneric said, ‘phones, letters, information, data, that sort of stuff. She’s an old school vampire who has about ten phones, you’d had to be blind not to find anything there.’

  Khalida looked over at Mitch who nodded.

  ‘You’ll message us further information,’ Mitch said. ‘We’ll be in touch.’

  ‘And you work for us, not the other way around,’ Khalida said. ‘Remember that, Intuneric.’

  Intuneric grinned, ‘sweetheart, my name is Banes.’

  Chapter Four

  Heavy, Rotting Air

  Under the bright sunny day nothing in the area looked remotely pleasant. Zhu Ling’s house was a looming, narrow brick building, which had survived the slum clearances, the Blitz, and numerous redevelopment projects; they had left very little indent on the actual building itself. Untouched by the changing city around it, it seemed to have chosen to quietly decay instead. Parts of the roof were missing; the windows and door were boarded up; the bricks had been blackened by the smoke of the city. There was a chain-link fence running around the building, though the base was a mess of overlaid graffiti, tangled weeds, old rubbish, and broken glass.

  The house, standing apart on the end of a street of faded shops, a rundown hardware shop with dusty windows and peeling paint, a beige carpet shop, and a closed Chinese restaurant, looked across to a large, old, disused warehouse with a chain metal fencing running around it. It seemed like a forgotten area of London, and that what was there had accidently washed up and had slowly begun to rot as soon as they arrived. From the edge of the street, Khalida could see rows of nice, brick, terraced city houses beside grimy council blocks, and, poking up from the skyline, was the building site of an unfinished luxury apartment complex. She could see the tents of a group of squatters inside, who were sheltering in the half-finished rooms.

  Khalida shuddered and buried herself further in the large black hoodie she was wearing. The temperature had barely risen above freezing for the entire day and the sun seemed to be clinging to the horizon, casting long cold shadows.

  ‘What a fucking incredible wreck,’ Mitch muttered. ‘It’s amazing that it’s still standing. I’d love to come back and really explore it, you know? It’s rare to find slum buildings like this one still around.’

  ‘Do you think she’s in there?’ Khalida asked, as they approached the house.

  ‘Let’s hope she’s there and fast asleep,’ Mitch said, ‘and that she never wakes up.’

  The front entrance was completely blocked off, so they edged along to the back of the house via a narrow side street, which was full of the sickly-sweet smell of decomposing rubbish. Khalida supposed that a vampire could easily jump over the fence to get in and out, though that would be a struggle for her and Mitch. She traced around the building and found a loose gap between the fence panels, gesturing for Mitch to join her. With ease, she slid in through the gaps, though it took Mitch a kick to widen it up before he could come through.

  As a teenager, she had once had an aspiring photographer friend who used to take her urban exploring, and they had crept around abandoned and derelict places with a sense of daring and excitement. Though, looking at the looming building, her senses prickled. She looked over at Mitch, who shrugged and moved forward.

  The back door of the house was boarded up, though a large, red ‘V’ had been painted onto it. With Mitch behind her, she gently pushed the door open. It creaked softly, spiking her trepidation. Inside was full of inky darkness; Mitch left the door open to let in as much light as possible.

  They stepped into an incredibly old, dusty and cramped kitchen with a small, cast iron range, and blackened pots hanging from the discoloured walls. On the table, there were a couple of plastic shopping bags. Khalida cautiously poked one open to see what was inside, and saw nothing but ordinary items; several cartons of coconut water, some bananas, a loaf of bread, some batteries, and a case of sausages.

  ‘This isn’t the original kitchen,’ Mitch said, in such a low whisper that Khalida barely heard him.

  ‘What?’ she whispered back.

  ‘It’s probably late Edwardian,’ he said, ‘maybe early twenties. As if the original tenants would have cared for a range.’

  ‘That’s interesting, but unless Ling is hiding in the range, I don’t see how that’s important,’ she hissed.

  They crept forwards into the narrow hallway, the only light coming in through the chinks in the boards, everything stained with decades of grime and filth. Another ‘V’ had been painted into the side of the staircase. Khalida could see footprints in the dust on the floor as they moved around to a crooked staircase. She looked up, and saw nothing but darkness. Clutching her water pistol tightly in hand, she began to climb, and felt the stairs give slightly over her weight.

  ‘Careful!’ she mouthed back to Mitch.

  ‘After you!’ he mouthed back as she climbed, every other step groaning, while he waited at the bottom.

  An oddly sweet smell of rot, which caught in the back of her throat, filled the air, along with the smell of smoke. She could see the vague outlines of the corridor, her eyes straining in the dark. A deep creak sounded; Mitch was beginning to gingerly walk up the stairs. She breathed in deeply, feeling the heavy and still air.

  Khalida took a step up. She could feel that ‘V’s had been carved into the side of the ladder. The atmosphere grew thicker and warmer as she climbed. There was nothing to see, and nothing to hear but the sound of her own breathing. She felt Mitch’s grip on the rungs below. The smell of rotting meat clung to her lungs. She would have gagged if years as a paramedic hadn’t introduced her to worse smells.

  She emerged into a dark attic. She could sense a wide space and saw that massive pieces of black canvass had been attached to the ceiling, walls, and floor, trapping the heat from a few whirring space heaters.

  There was a soft creak; Mitch beginning his ascent. Slowly, she sat back on the edge of the hatch, loosened a balloon stuf
fed with mustard seeds from her pocket, and pierced the rubber with her nail, sprinkling the seeds around her in a circle. She heard the scuffling sounds of Mitch climbing, the buzz of a few flies, her heartbeat, the faint wail of a siren outside, and a helicopter passing overhead. A ripple of nerves spread down her. She could hear the sound of someone else breathing.

  Mitch came up into the attic, struggling against the smell, his face pale. She gently lay a hand on his shoulder to silence him, letting him listen to Ling’s breathing. He grinned, a wild spark in his eyes. Slowly, she steadied herself and rose to her feet, her stake clutched tightly in her hand. As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she could see that the space was a mess. Enough had been pushed into the sides of the room to form a pathway between shoeboxes, bits of clothing, electronic wires, sweet wrappers, books, water bottles, and whatever other miscellaneous shapes Khalida could make out in the dark. Her eyes caught on yellowish white human bones. The body had been completely stripped of flesh. She gasped, and stepped closer to the body. It had been served apart, a loose femur against a breastbone. There were clear cut marks on the bones. She stopped dead, noticing dark and twisted strains of meat still attached to them. Mitch nudged her. Half hidden by a heavy drape of black fabric hanging from the roof was the body of a man against a wall. He was naked, missing both legs and an arm. The one wrist that remained had a chain attaching him to a ceiling beam. Tourniquets had been wrapped around the stumps but whoever had amputated had done a bad job of it, Khalida could see fragments of bone sticking out. The man was clearly dead, but he had died recently, his closed eyes had sunken down into his face and his greenish skin was marbled. Bile rose up in her mouth as she stared at him, unable to look away.

  Mitch’s hand touched her shoulder, pointing over to a lump of rags at the end of the attic.

  Ling was asleep, lying curled up on a makeshift bed, consisting of a single mattress, which was barely distinguishable from the mess on the floor. They approached slowly, their feet tracing over the floorboards. Though Ling was wrapped up in bits of blanket, Khalida could see that she had a small, gaunt frame. Her skin stuck out white in the room, and she could just about see her wild, tangled mane of black hair.

  Mitch held out his water pistol as Khalida approached. The thick air crackled. Something shifted.

  Ling leapt from her bed so quickly, Khalida could barely react. Ling’s body collided against hers. Khalida was knocked down onto a pile of boxes; there was the muffled clash of something breaking, and Ling on top of her. She felt water hit her face as Mitch fired his pistol at them. Ling hissed sharply, her body weakening, giving Khalida enough of a chance to roll back her legs and kick hard, throwing Ling off her.

  Ling shot away from her, rounding her attention on Mitch. He shot another blast of water at her, though she ducked out of its way. Another shot – Ling was feet away from him. In the darkness, Khalida saw her jump. There was the clatter of plastic hitting the wooden floor as she knocked the water gun out of his hand. Two distinct silhouettes formed into one as Ling leapt at Mitch. Mitch cried out. A pulse of energy swept through her, and in one movement, Khalida fired a stream of water at them.

  Ling’s screams mingled with Mitch’s – her small figure was thrown onto the floor. As Mitch raised his stake to strike, Ling’s arm cut across his stomach. Mitch yelled and staggered sideways. Khalida hastily dug into her pockets, took out the small torch she carried with her, and flung it on, aiming the glare at Ling’s face. The attic was lit with a single beam of white light. Ling snarled, her fangs shocking, her face bared towards Khalida, and, for the first time, Khalida saw her eyes; fierce and shocking feral eyes of obsidian black. The whites of her eyes were crossed with black veins, running like overflowing rivers from her pupils.

  She lunged at Khalida, too quickly for Khalida to respond. She felt hot breath on her neck, and then the sharp, piercing bite dig into her neck. Needle-pointed teeth dug into her skin. She cried out, feeling that burning, wet pain set in, and kicked back at Ling, trying to dislodge her teeth from her flesh. Bright bursts of colourless light flickered into view. She was dimly aware she was screaming. Ling had her arms pinned down.

  Another stream of water hit them; Ling shrieked and curled inwards against the burn, her fangs sliding out of Khalida’s neck. Khalida twisted her arm back and plunged the stake upwards into Ling’s chest. Her body gave a shuddering jerk. Khalida pushed back Ling’s corpse onto the floor, where it fell with a dull thud and Khalida drove the stake in again. And again. And again. Peppering Ling’s torso with stab wounds. The heavy, rotting air was overwhelming.

  ‘Okay, okay,’ Mitch said. ‘She’s dead. You killed her, she’s dead, Khalida.’

  Khalida sighed and sat back. She tugged the stake, which was now stained a dark, rusty red, loose from her chest. It was taking a great effort not to vomit.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Mitch asked. She managed to nod. ‘What the blue fuck was that?’

  Khalida looked up at him. He was covered in deep scratches; blood was seeping into his clothes and the droplets were landing on the floor. Part of his lower lip was torn. ‘Did you see her fucking eyes? What in God’s hell was that?’

  ‘You’ve never seen that before, then?’ Khalida asked, trying to ignore the stabbing pain in her neck. He shook his head.

  ‘Never. Something to ask Leah about, then. Shit, I actually thought I was going to die then.’

  They both fell silent and looked over to the man on the wall.

  ‘Poor man,’ Mitch said.

  ‘I wish we could tell someone he’s here,’ Khalida said.

  He nodded, ‘same, but we’ve left far too much forensic evidence here.’

  She nodded, ‘we should burn this place down. Wipe all the evidence.’

  Mitch shook his head. ‘Bad idea; this place has been left standing empty and unchecked for years now. A fire will just arouse suspicion, especially with at least three bodies inside it.’

  Khalida frowned. ‘We can’t just walk away with our blood spattered around the place.’

  ‘I’m not saying we’ll just hope that no-one ever comes in here again for the rest of our nature lives. Let’s just give it a while before we come back,’ Mitch said. ‘It’s better than starting an arson investigation that will snowball. In the eyes of the law, we’ve just fucking killed someone. Remember that Peter Sutcliffe was only caught because of a minor traffic violation, and I’ve killed more than he has, so we need to be very careful.’

  Khalida sighed and got to her feet, cupping her hand over her wound. ‘Fine, let’s just find whatever information Banes Intuneric said was in here and get the fuck out.’

  ‘Okay,’ he said, eying her wound. ‘You’re not bleeding out, are you?’

  ‘It’s inflection I’m worried about, and you should be careful too!’ she said, as Mitch carefully opened a shoe box laying at his feet.

  ‘Do you think this is real or a fake?’ Mitch asked, holding up a small, ceramic cup, wrapped in newspaper.

  ‘You’re the historian,’ she said, ‘and it doesn’t matter, you can’t do anything with it.’

  ‘I don’t specialise in Chinese history,’ he said, ‘but I wonder…C’mon, Khalida, there could be important stuff here.’

  ‘Mitch, there’s the body of a man who was effectively harvested a few feet away from us.’

  ‘Oh shit!’ Mitch said, pulling out a small bundle wrapped in a Chinese newspaper. ‘Look at the date of this paper – year Nineteen-Sixteen! I think some of these might be genuine.’

  ‘You shouldn’t care, Mitch,’ she said, as he pulled out a small pair of tiny, perfect slippers, which fit neatly in the palm of his hand. ‘We weren’t supposed to be there.’

  ‘I know,’ he moaned, ‘but these are fucking treasures, Khalida!’

  ‘Someone was fucking murdered and all you care about is historical junk?!’

  ‘I’m sorry, I just care about this stuff more now that the exciting part is over,’ Mitch said. ‘I never claimed to be doing
this for justice, Khalida.’

  Khalida sucked her teeth and angrily turned to search through a pile of paperwork Ling had piled up against a writing desk. The loud jangle of a ringtone cut through the air. Her hand went to her stake as she spun around to Ling’s bed. She edged forward; next to the pile of rags, there was a collection of cheap mobile phones and portable chargers. She picked up the ringing flip phone and hit speaker.

  ‘Hello, Zhu,’ the voice, static over the line, was a man’s familiar, old-fashioned, Queen’s English accent. Khalida’s skin froze over. She knew the voice, she knew it’s rhythms and bounces, it’s stuffiness, it’s drawn-out vowels. ‘It’s Clarence. Sorry about the hour, but it is quite urgent. Cecilia has passed on a warning to me about Feigrey. Amoako has been very successful is getting your people over to our side and you don’t have any allies left now aside from me. I know you’re at that dump in Limehouse, but if you are going to carry on with that whole Vlad thing then you have to leave the country. I’m serious, you’ve pushed this too far, and they will not stand for it.’

  A pause settled between them, Khalida looked up fleetingly at Mitch, whose eyes were wide.

  ‘Zhu?’ Clarence said. ‘Zhu, can you hear me?’

  For a brief moment, Khalida considered trying to impersonate Ling’s voice.

  ‘Damn,’ Clarence muttered, then the phone went dead.

  ‘Cecilia, Feigrey, and Amoako,’ Mitch muttered.

  ‘Fuck,’ Khalida said, turning to him. ‘Mitch, that was my ex-boyfriend.’

  ‘You’re fucking kidding me,’ he said.

  ‘Clarence,’ she said, feeling hollow. ‘Clarence Arthur Marr. I’d bet my life on it.’

  ‘And he’s your ex?’ Mitch said. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘We dated for like, three months, about two years ago,’ she said. ‘He was a rebound, I had just got out of my first serious relationship. Fuck. I didn’t know he was a vampire, is a vampire…is he even a vampire? Does this mean he’s a vampire?’