Emily Shadowhunter - Book 1: VAMPIRE KILLER

by Craig Zerf

  Emily traveled to London with Bastian and Nathan, all three ensconced in the back of the Rolls, surrounded by leather and wood.

  Nathan was his usual attentive self, ensuring that Emily was comfortable and had something to eat and drink, but she could tell that he seemed to be a little preoccupied with his own thoughts.

  Bastian, on the other hand, became visibly more relaxed the further they got from the headquarters. When she mentioned this to him he laughed.

  ‘I can’t stand that old place,’ he informed Emily. ‘All those grotesque sculptures and musty old carpets and dark corners. Sucks, man. Wait until you see the London pad. It’s the dogs.’

  Emily raised an eyebrow. ‘The dogs?’

  ‘English expression,’ explained Bastian. ‘The dog’s bollocks. Means that it’s seriously cool.’

  ‘Whatever,’ said Emily. ‘Sounds gross. I didn’t find the big house so bad. The servants were a bit weird though.’

  Bastian actually shuddered. ‘Man, I hate those dudes,’ he said, quietly.

  ‘Hate seems a bit extreme,’ argued Emily. ‘I mean, given, they’re not the most communicative of souls.’

  ‘That’s because they don’t have any,’ said Bastian.

  ‘What?’ Asked Emily.

  ‘Souls,’ continued the Jamaican. ‘The servants don’t have any souls.’ He stared at the teenage girl. ‘Man. You didn’t know?’

  ‘Know what?’

  ‘The servant dudes at the manor. They’re all zombies. Dead.’

  Emily shook her head. ‘Good one, Bastian,’ she said. ‘Not funny though.’

  ‘He’s not joking,’ assured Nathan. ‘Sorry, I should have told you. They’ve been around forever. Some of them for hundreds of years. That’s why they don’t talk or react. They can’t, due to being …well…dead, I suppose.’

  ‘No way,’ insisted Emily. ‘Zombies don’t exist.’

  ‘Sure,’ interjected Bastian. ‘Or vampires or werewolves or Shadowhunters.’

  Emily lay back in her seat, her face pale with shock. ‘But, aren’t zombies all, like, rotting and gross and keen to eat your brains and stuff. I mean, what if they bite us?’

  ‘You mean “Night of the Living Dead” type zombies? Like the movies?’ Clarified Bastian.

  ‘Exactly,’ agreed Emily.

  ‘No way. That’s not how it works. That Romero dude has a lot to answer for. Real zombies are made by the Obeah Man.’

  ‘Okay,’ acknowledged Emily. ‘And who is the Obeah Man when he’s at home?’

  ‘I suppose that you’d call him a witch doctor,’ answered Bastian. ‘Voodoo man. He reanimates dead folk, turns them into servants. The staff at the manor were turned many years ago by an Obeah Man that worked for the Vamps. Ambros rescued them and then just sort of took them on.’

  ‘Wow,’ exclaimed Emily. ‘That’s super creepy.’

  ‘It’s worse than creepy,’ said Bastian with feeling. ‘It’s slavery. They got no choice in the matter.’ The Jamaican shook his head. ‘Man, that slavery shit stopped almost two hundred years ago.’

  Emily put her hand on Bastian’s arm. ‘They’re dead, Bastian,’ she said. ‘Or undead, not sure. But they don’t know that they’re slaves.’

  ‘I know,’ admitted the Jamaican. ‘Still doesn’t make it right.’

  Emily sensed that neither Nathan nor Bastian felt like speaking for a while so she lay back in her seat and went over the meeting that they had just had with Ambros before they left.

  The Olympus Foundation did not work in a vacuum. They had many people on their payroll, notably many high ranking policemen. Most of them had no real idea what the Foundation actually did but they all knew that if something unusual came to light it would behoove them to contact Ambros and put him in the picture. And so it was that the old man had been forwarded a copy of some CCTV footage of a break in at an antique shop in London called the Kensington Antique Emporium.

  The fact of the break in was not unusual in itself. What made the case stand out was, firstly, nothing was stolen. Even though the intruders had obviously searched for something, as was evident by the wholesale mess that they left behind. And, secondly, it appeared that they had somehow managed to sabotage a state-of-the-art surveillance system, rendering it useless as far as identifying anyone concerned. It was this sabotage that had mainly attracted the police chief superintendent’s attention. While the footage seemed at first glance to be fine, whenever the actual perpetrators came into shot it appeared that they were moving at ultra-high speed. Like a film that had been speeded up by a factor of ten.

  Ambros had explained that he wanted them to take a closer look at the incident. Interview the owner of the Emporium, case out the area and see if anything of interest came to light.

  By the time Emily had gone over all of the new info that had been dumped on her, the Rolls had arrived at their destination.

  A large block of Victorian Gothic apartments situated above St Pancras Station, London. The driver drove them into the underground parking garage and they took a private elevator up to the penthouse apartment.

  They unpacked and while Bastian prepared a lunch, Nathan gave Emily a quick tour of the surrounds. The penthouse occupied the top two floors of the building. It featured five bedrooms, each with their own on-suite and small sitting area. There was also a main dining room, a large lounge, a gourmet kitchen and several spacious balconies that boasted sweeping views of the capital city.

  Nathan also explained that the apartment was fully serviced by the adjoining five star Marriot Hotel and the Foundation had an open account, so food could be ordered from any of the multitude of restaurants if they wanted.

  ‘So,’ said Emily. ‘No zombie servants then.’

  Nathan chuckled. ‘Why do you think that Bastian loves it here so much?’

  The three of them ate in the kitchen. Cheese, bread, pates, cold cuts and fruit.

  ‘Right,’ said Bastian after they had all had their fill. ‘Let’s get to Kensington and give this antiques place the once over. We can take the tube from here, easier than using the car.’

  ‘I can’t make it,’ said Nathan. ‘Got some personal stuff to attend to. But I’ll be free tomorrow.’

  Bastian shook his head. ‘We’re not here to do personal stuff, man. Business first then you can sort your crap out afterwards.’

  ‘Calm down,’ snapped Nathan. ‘I’ve got stuff to do. Chill, it’s not the end of the world. Anyway, you’ve got Emily and it’s just a simple walk and talk. Not like you’re going to need back up.’

  Bastian shrugged. ‘Fine. Go do your stuff. We’ll see you later.’

  Chapter 10