The Blood Red Rose

by Mark Stewart

Melbourne 2010

  HALETON SPIED a newspaper carelessly left at a bus stop. He sat in the dark, noting the date.

  'Thursday 15th September 2010.'

  A bus rumbling along the road slowed and stopped in front of him. The door rattled open. The driver sat staring at Haleton.

  "Are you getting on?" scoffed the driver.

  Haleton shook his head, refocused on the newspaper and started to read.

  The driver slid from his seat. Standing in the doorway of the bus, verbal diarrhea flowed thick and fast.

  Haleton slammed the newspaper onto the ground. "You Sir, have a polluted mouth."

  "It's been a long shift. If you didn't want to catch a bus, don't sit in the bus stop." The driver pointed at Haleton's attire, chuckling. "Top hat and tails; did your car break down on the way to a masquerade party?"

  Haleton's growl came as a terrifying low rumble. The noise lingered in the air long after the bus traveled down the road and turned left at the next intersection. Haleton stood on the road listening to the sound of the bus's diesel engine. He muttered under his breath. "A person's attitude hasn't changed since 1749AD. Attack or be attacked. Kill or be killed."

  The echo of heeled shoes rang loud in Haleton's ears. He quickly searched for the exact location of the noise before slipping back into the bus shelter. Sitting on the top edge of the seat, he waited patiently for the next potential victim to arrive. He looked relaxed, blending into the year.

  The heeled shoes came slowly. Haleton fidgeted in the stagnant air. His next victim will soon be close. His mouth partially opened revealing long sharp eye teeth.

  A young lady stopped to study the bus timetable. The information had been typed on a single sheet of paper, placed behind a clear Perspex frame and screwed to a metal pole. Haleton could smell the woman's perfume wafting towards him. It was a strong, desirable scent. He slid along the seat to get closer. She faced him. Her long dark hair glistened in the net of light from the overhead street lamp. She flashed him two rows of perfectly formed white teeth. Haleton noticed her pupils were dancing. He guessed she'd just received exciting news. For a heartbeat, he wondered what it might have been.

  "Do you know what time the next bus will arrive?"

  The tone of the girl's voice seemed to mesmerize him. Haleton managed to stand, but he couldn't move his feet. The way she looked sideways at him aroused his inner man. He forced from his mind the idea he needed to hurry to find his last victim.

  "Hello," said the young lady. "Are you alright?"

  "I'm fine, thank you."

  "Do you know what time the next bus is due?"

  "No. I'm positive when the vehicle arrives the driver won't dare to drive past before picking you up."

  "Why do you say that?"

  "Such an attractive young lady shouldn't be walking about at a late hour as this. It's not safe."

  "I needed to go for a walk to get out of my shoebox size apartment and to get away from Craig. Do you know he asked me to marry him?"

  Haleton showed her a glazed look.

  "I'm sorry, of course, you don't know. I'm Amber Cantala." She thrust her hand towards Haleton.

  "I knew a Cantala once. Rose-a-lee was a polite, sweet little thing. She'd always been a good wife. Her husband had been a stubborn mule. He forced her to work as a slave. What I'd give to help her get away from the man. I told her once in the secret garden at the castle wall I'd take her to another land. Maybe we could have discovered an island for just the two of us. It would be a slow journey. However, the reward, in the end, would've been worth it. I tried to explain she needed someone who'd treat her with all the love she deserved." Haleton looked Amber in the eyes. "She reminds me of you, clever to the maximum. She was a scientist. It's a shame she didn't see me how I wanted her to."

  Amber pulled her hand away, glaring at the man. "You're not making any sense."

  "I apologize for rambling," mumbled Haleton.

  "I accept. I don't know why, but I have to confess I feel drawn to you."

  "I feel the same way."

  "Any ideas?" asked Amber.

  "I can't think of a single reason. The only thing I know is in all the women I've come across you'd have to be the sweetest sounding; the most appealing woman I've ever laid my eyes on."

  Amber's cheeks flushed red. "I hear the words you're speaking. Instead of listening to what my mind is saying and run, I feel I should stay."

  "I feel I have known you all my life."

  "You didn't say your name," mentioned Amber.

  "My name is William Haleton." He extended his hand.

  They shook hands in a business-like manner.

  "Your name sounds old fashioned."

  "You don't like it?" questioned Haleton.

  "I didn't say I hated it. Listen, don't take my opinion the wrong way, as a matter of fact, I think your name sounds cute."

  Haleton knew deep down the young lady has an innocent heart. She certainly never did anything illegal. He needed to move on. The clock's ticking. He didn't have time for idle chit-chat. He took hold of her hand as if he picked up a delicate flower made of glass.

  She gave him a provocative look.

  Haleton couldn't spare the time, but something about the woman intrigued him. Could it be her easy-going nature? Or was he drawn to her, compelled to stay in her life? Maybe this was all part of the curse. Just when he hoped to run across the finish line, the curse threw him a love curve to keep him going.

  "I don't mean to pry into your personal affairs, Miss Cantala. I have noticed your clothes are wet through."

  "I've never met a man so polite," she replied.

  "Again, I thank you for the compliment."

  "I asked my friend Craig to follow me to the roof of the building where I live. I made him sit in the rain on a seat built for two. I sensed he wanted to say something important but was too shy to say. After a while, I convinced him to talk. Craig downed his knee in a puddle of water. I thought it a lovely gesture, highly romantic."

  "Did you say yes or no?"

  Amber looked at Haleton wearing a coy expression. "What do you think, William?"

  "I think you might have said no."

  "You're right on the money," advised Amber.

  "Why did you say no?"

  A second bus rumbled to a stop. Amber and Haleton got on. Amber paid for her ticket and started walking towards the second last row. The moment Haleton stepped onto the bus seven overhead fluorescent tubes blew, plunging the seats into darkness. In the ruckus, he slipped past the ticket machine and caught up to Amber.

  "Sorry, folks the lights must have blown a fuse. You'll have to ride in the dark," yelled the bus driver.

  "You haven't answered my question," said Haleton, sliding onto the seat next to Amber.

  "I told Craig somewhere out in the world there is a Miss Right waiting for him."

  "Is there a Mr. Right out there for you?"

  Amber looked out of the window, whispering. "I sure hope so."

  When the bus stopped to pick up passengers ten minutes from where Haleton first met Amber, he followed her off the bus. Before she could strike up a new conversation, he bid her a good night.

  Haleton watched her walk back the way they came. Almost immediately he saw a black shadow moving slowly along the wall of the building. He watched the figure crossing the road to keep pace with Amber.

  Under his breath, Haleton hissed at his final victim. "Hey wiry built man, you're so predictable in shadowing the young lady I can almost hear your evil mind swinging into action. I can certainly hear your heart pounding. The only thought you are entertaining is; you want the small bag hanging off Amber's shoulder, steal a few dollars so you can buy drugs. What's different about this year to any other year which has come and gone over the last two-hundred years? nothing, nothing at all."

  The vampire blood raging through Haleton's body flowed faster. The urge to protect the girl from the creep across the street surged through his body. He hadn't felt the feeling
in a long time. Could it be he might have fallen in love or was his body preparing him to be a mortal once again? He'd forgotten how both feelings felt.

  Haleton darted across the street. At a safe distance, he slipped into synchronization with the man, well aware the whole scene might be a trap.

  "Who cares, I can't die," he mumbled. "The words, sworn, to me after my capture and when I was forced to drink the vampire blood still haunt me. Stay too long; the hunter will be the hunted."

  Haleton allowed his mind to wander. How many more vampires roamed the Earth? How successful were Rose-a-lee Cantala and the council of four in turning mortal humans into vampires? If they met would they be on his side or his enemies?

  Amber turned down a dark lane, picking up her pace. The wiry built man followed soon after.

  The trap was set.

  Haleton entered the lane. He immediately heard a flick-knife blade extend. If the young robber only wanted to steal from Amber Cantala why did he have murder on his mind?

  Haleton's vampire fangs quickly grew. Silently, he cat-leapt high above the attacker. He clung to a down pipe, viewing the scene below him. The thug smelled of murder. Other gang members closed in to watch.

  Haleton decided to wait before springing into action. He knew their pattern. First, the louts would taunt Amber to unnerve her. Next, they'd surround her and slowly tighten the circle. They'd jostle each other waiting for the murder to take place. The leader was the only one who had the authority and the privilege of extinguishing her life flame.

  Haleton would react before then. He couldn't afford to intervene until he made sure she'd be a victim. The smell of freedom from the curse grew steadily stronger by the moment. One mistake and he'd be at the beginning again. The thought was incomprehensible.

  "Girlie, come closer to us," called the stocky gang leader. "We want to smell the perfume clinging to every strand of hair on your pretty little head."

  "Stay away from me," Amber screamed.

  "You look cold and wet. Come closer; I'll help you to feel warm."

  "Correction, we'll all take it in turns to warm you," stated one of the gang members stepping next to the leader.

  Each member of the gang burst into laughter when the leader punched him in the shoulder.

  Amber's eyes exposed how she must have felt. At that moment, she feared for her life. Her eyes were protruding to the point of bursting from their sockets.

  "Come to me for a good time," jeered the gang leader, opening his arms.

  "Please, stay away. I have no money. Please, I beg you, leave me be." Amber back stepped away from the group. Her heel hit a wooden pallet causing her to fall. She hit the ground backside first.

  The gang members grinned at each other. They sprinted towards Amber laughing satanically. Hovering over her they showed no remorse for their actions. The leader held out his hand as if he wanted to help Amber to her feet. She took his hand. For a few seconds, she stood trembling before crumbling into a heap on the ground.

  Half carried, and half dragged to the lift in the nearest building, the group stroked Amber's hair, waiting for the lift car to arrive.

  "This thing will be a great trophy," reported the largest member of the gang. "At sunrise; we'll be able to say the tail end of the night more than made up for the boring start."

  The lift doors opened on the unfinished seventh floor. Small shallow puddles of water pooled the large area. The group walked across the floor to the open windows to look at the ground far below. The updraft of wind ruffled the leader's long mouse-coloured hair.

  Haleton followed the gang's every move. He felt hungry for blood. The gang of youths placed the girl face-up on the dirt covered floor. One of the boys straddled her. He squatted, tapping her cheek. Amber slowly opened her eyes. Once she realized what they were up to a blood-curdling scream flowed over her lips.

  The whole gang jostled for position waiting for their turn.

  "I think we should fight for the privilege of going first," jeered the weasel of a youth.

  For his comment, the lad was pushed. The lad lost his balance and fell into a puddle of water. Pointing their fingers at him the other gang members laughed cynically.

  Haleton saw his cue, stepped from the shadows, tapping the largest youth on the shoulder. He turned to face the intruder.

  "Where did you come from?" growled the leader.

  Haleton ignored the question. "I think the skinny weasel has a valid point. There should be an arm wrestle to see who has the right to be first."

  The leader shoved a fist into the air. "I am the elected leader of the gang; I always go first."

  Haleton grabbed the teenager by the collar, flinging him effortlessly through the air to the other side of the building. Three other boys crumpled next to him. They resembled a pile of wet disused rags. They slowly untangled themselves and started nursing their broken bones.

  Haleton tapped the last youth on the shoulder. The weasel swung a white-knuckled fist. Haleton jumped back.

  The youth seized the moment, and, reaching out, grabbed hold of Amber by the collar, dragging her to the window. "You want a piece of me?"

  "It could be arranged," hissed Haleton.

  "Can you catch the girl at the same time?"

  "I doubt you have the strength to lift the girl into the air or brave enough to push her over the edge."

  "I'll prove my worth. The death of this girl will clench the idea I'm the best one to govern the gang."

  Amber lifted her hand, managing to slap the bloke across the face. He pushed hard against her shoulders. She overbalanced. Her stomach smacked the window frame, knocking the wind out of her lungs. Clinging to the ledge, staring at the ground she screamed at the top of her lungs. The young man readied himself for the fatal push.

  "Are you sure you want to go so far?" questioned Haleton. "Your fellow gang members are hobbling over."

  "Don't kill the girl," begged the largest gang member.

  "You said it'll be fun," jeered the young man.

  "Forget what I said. The girl doesn't deserve to die."

  The skinny youth glared at the team leader. Yelling something inaudible, he pushed Amber out the window.

  In the time, it takes lightning to fork across the sky, Haleton dived out of the window, easily catching Amber by the ankle. He jerked her back, holding her firmly in his arm.

  The ground came up fast. Haleton reached out to grab hold of the second-floor window ledge. He didn't grimace at the superhuman effort. Using his head, he shattered the glass window, jumped through the square hole and gently stroked the woman's cheek. He pushed the wet hair from her face, looking at her in the eyes. He felt captivated by the tanned colour of her skin. He noticed the jugular vein on the side of her neck protruding slightly. He could smell her blood pumping through her veins at speed. Haleton leaned forward. His lips brushed her neck. He wanted to taste her but needed to fight the urge to have a bite. He shook his head violently in an attempt to rid himself of the torment.

  Haleton placed Amber gently on her feet, sighed, turned and started to walk away.

  Amber managed to whisper. "Where do you think, you're going?"

  Haleton froze in his footsteps. He turned to face Amber. She stood staring at him, a glazed look in her eyes. He spoke to her in a deep, sincere voice. His tone sounded, calming, almost hypnotic.

  "I'll return before a minute has ticked off. I've some unfinished business to take care of."

  "There is no way you should have been able to save me. How did you do it? Are you a magician?"

  "No."

  The molester sprinted down the makeshift stairs and ran across the large room towards Haleton. "Leave, you're not welcome at this two-some party."

  Haleton looked sideways at the man. "I believe it is you who should leave while you are still breathing." He knew far too well he should have been the one to leave. He'd plenty of time remaining to find him later. The moment the young man's life expired he'd be finally free of the vampire curse. The l
ikelihood of ever seeing Amber again was remote at best. He couldn't be sure if it were even possible. But something seemed to compel him to stay. He wanted to discover the reason.

  Sirens wailed louder. Blue and red flashing lights flooded the area. The walls of the partially completed building looked like disco lights which flooded the fashionable 1970's era. Haleton gave the molester his undivided attention. His fingers beckoned the bloke closer, taunting him into attacking.

  The bloke retaliated by showing off a flick knife. Its blade glistened in the dancing police lights. "Come over; I'm more than ready to cut you in half."

  Amber glared at the young man through slits. She showed guts by stepping between the two men. "Mitch, stay away."

  The young skinny man holding the flick knife grinned. "Lucky for you I'm a nice bloke."

  "Do you know this creep?" questioned Haleton.

  "Sadly, yes," replied Amber. "Before he joined the gang he always acted like a well-mannered man."

  "We are a good batch of blokes. We rid the streets of bad dudes like this one," yelled Mitch, pointing the flick knife at Haleton.

  "You terrorized the young lady and threw her from the seventh floor."

  "I didn't want to see her hurt. I just want the gang to accept me."

  "The death of an innocent woman is a strange way of showing how much you care," hissed Haleton.

  "I've seen your ugly face enough. Do yourself a favour, get out of the area. Go join your fancy dress party."

  "If I thought your idea sounded humorous, I'd laugh." Haleton created a deep-throated growl. "If I gave you my worst you'd be dead."

  "Mighty big words," jeered Mitch.

  "You look as though you'd never give a second thought if the young lady died."

  "Do us both a favour; disappear old man."

  "What you want is not possible. If it makes you feel better, try to make me."

  The remaining gang members slowly hobbled down the stairs. They stood in a tight group to watch the fight.

  Mitch pulled a small handgun from his back pocket. His smirk made him look evil the moment he pointed it directly at Haleton. "Who's the scared one now? Old man, I'll give you three seconds to drop to your knees and start to convince me you're a defeated foe. If you refuse, I'll deliver a bullet into your heart."

  "Hey, Mitch this ain't part of the gang deal we live by," shouted one of the gang members. Using his left hand to clutch his right arm he nodded at the gun. "Cough up the revolver. You know the rules of the leader; no guns."

  Mitch glared at him, sidestepping away. The other members ran back upstairs leaving only one.

  "Mitch put the gun down. Murder ain't worth it," explained the leader, leaning casually against the wall. "If I could I'd come over and use my fist to break your nose."

  "Jake, you can be a chicken too. Go join the others," spat Mitch. "This old dude is going out the window feet first."

  Seeing the police starting to fan out across the unfinished second floor, Amber began to shuffle away.

  "Everyone freeze," growled the closest cop. "You, holding the gun, don't be a hero, put the weapon on the ground."

  Mitch glared at the cop. "The man wearing the fancy hat attacked my girlfriend."

  "Son, I won't tell you again, put the gun on the floor."

  "If I do, the old man is likely to break my neck."

  "He won't move. I've got you covered."

  Mitch leveled his gun directly at Haleton's heart.

  "You should do as the officer has said."

  "Shut up. I need to think," spat Mitch.

  The leader of the gang slid along the wall until he spied a big cop shaking his head. "Mitch, do what the cop says."

  Haleton raised his hands and slowly stepped closer.

  "You're close enough. I want you and hero boy lying on the ground," barked the cop.

  "Drop to your knees, or I'll give it to you right now," barked Mitch, glaring at Haleton. "This is your last warning." He clicked the revolver's safety off. "You've got guts mate. You don't even look nervous."

  "Amber, don't be afraid," urged Haleton. "I'll protect you come what may."

  "I don't feel good," she whispered back. "It must be the shock."

  "You can't protect anyone," yelled Mitch. "Look around; I hold all the marbles. If you can't understand what I mean, take a long hard look at the barrel of my gun. The bullet in the chamber has your name on it."

  "Son, don't be a fool, put the gun down," instructed the uniformed cop. He looked ready to shoot if the stalemate came to an abrupt end.

  Haleton remained in a standing position square to Mitch. He knew he could easily overpower him, but there were too many uniform witnesses. By the time, he got through explaining to the cops; they'd have him in a straight-jacket and committed to the insane institution.

  Mitch locked his wrist and pulled the trigger. The bullet entered Haleton's, heart. Closing his eyes, he fell back against the wall, crumpling to the concrete floor in a sitting position. His head fell forward onto his chest.

  Two police charged at Mitch, wrestling him to the ground. They quickly handcuffed him before dragging the lad to his feet. Giving him a clip behind the ears and a shove in the shoulder blades they escorted him from the building.

  "The ambulance and the coroner have already been called," reported a rookie cop, viewing the gruesome scene. "The other gang members have been handcuffed. I don't think an interview at the moment is possible, they're all in shock."

  The Sergeant in charge of the group turned his attention to Amber and squatted. "Miss, what's your name?"

  Amber stared at nothing in particular. Slowly turning her head, she looked at Haleton slumped against the wall. Her statement came as a mere whisper. "I don't understand."

  "What don't you understand?" asked the cop.

  "I don't understand," she said again.

  The Sergeant stood the moment the ambulance officers trotted over. They gave Amber a cursory medical checkup before bundling her onto a wheeled trolley.

  "The young woman seems out of it; we'll take her to the hospital," advised the ambulance officer.

  The Sergeant commenced pacing the floor. He waited for the lift doors to close before lighting a cigarette. He walked over to Haleton staring at the corpse. "Poor fella; I reckon he only wanted to help the girl. I believe he could've been innocent."

  The rookie cop strolled over and folded his arms across his chest. "The coroner will be here in a few minutes. They'll take the trash to the morgue."

  "Don't you have anything better to do?" blurted the Sergeant. He finished his cigarette by blowing smoke into the face of the rookie and throwing the butt on the concrete floor next to Haleton.

  "No, I don't."

  "Find something to do."

  The rookie scooted off towards the lift to busy himself writing the report.

  Haleton opened his eyes. Lifting his head, he whispered. "Sergeant, which hospital did they take the young woman to?"

  The cop's eyes popped almost out of their sockets. His mouth opened, but his words were drowned in the gargle of his saliva.

  Haleton stood so he could look the cop eye to eye. "I don't mean to shock you. Please, I must know if she's alright."

  "Don't twitch a muscle. Arrest this man," yelled the Sergeant. He pulled his gun, pointing it directly at Haleton's chest.

  "I'm fine thanks. What is the name of the hospital Amber was taken and in which direction is the building?"

  The rookie cop looked over his shoulder. His face immediately drained of colour. "How can this be? You have a bullet hole in your heart?"

  A middle-aged cop stepped over, handcuffing Haleton. "We need to have a chat down at the police station."

  "What sort of chat?"

  "A friendly chat to explain the magical trick on how the bullet bounced off your chest."

  "The bullet missed," explained Haleton."

  The Sergeant grabbed hold of his shirt, pulling at the hole directly over his heart. "Do you want to
change your story?"

  "First thing which needs explaining is why you didn't answer my question?"

  "Quit talking, or things will grow steadily worse for you. Faking a fatal gunshot wound is a serious offense."

  "What about the answer to my question?" Haleton asked.

  "I don't recall you asking anything."

  Haleton rolled his eyes. "I asked you where they took Amber Cantala."

  "Who are you talking about?"

  "The young woman the ambulance took to the hospital."

  "She must have slipped out of the building when all the commotion erupted. Take this hero away," growled the Sergeant. He reached for another cigarette. "I'll be at Police Headquarters soon after you arrive. I'm sure we'll get to the bottom of this mess one way or the other."

  CHAPTER EIGHT