The Tale Of The Vampire Bride

Page 43

“Here,” I said, fishing a coin out of my purse. “Buy a loaf of bread and go home.”
The boy took the coin with a weary sigh. “Then you reject me?”
“You are far too young,” I chided him. “Your mother is probably worried about you. Rush on home.”
“She is busy working.” He jerked his head toward the nearest bordello.
“Oh,” was all I could manage. I dropped another coin into his grubby hand and tenderly patted his matted hair.
With one last smile, I began to prowl through the streets of Buda. I felt the pangs of the hunger, but I had yet to find anyone that looked appealing to me. I was not yet starving, so I could be very picky about my victim. Everyone was far too dirty, too drunk, or just too ornery to suit me. I desired young, fresh blood, full of life: not blood stale and thin from a weary life.
The streets became quieter as I moved along and soon I was lost in the maze of streets and buildings. It was here that many of the poorer inhabitants of Pesth slumbered in their beds in the shadow of the more illustrious Buda. I began to consider calling out and seeing which window opened. Time was quickly ticking away. I would soon have to return to Buda and the mansion.
A strangled scream broke me out of my contemplation.
Startled, I whirled about, my heavy skirt swishing around my ankles. My eyes glowed with dark fires as I gazed around me, peering into the darkness, examining every shadow.
Sly laughter drifted languidly on the night breeze.
Another vampire!
I was running before I could even finish the thought. Hands clutching my heavy skirts up around my knees, I dashed down the street and around the nearest corner. It was there I came to an abrupt halt.
In the shadows, a man was lying on the ground, a woman leaning over him. Her long blond hair fell in a wild disarray of unfettered curls covering her face. Deep, urgent growls uttered forth from her throat as she gnawed at the fallen man’s throat. The hands gripping the man’s head were dark with dirt and her nails were black and broken. The dark blue dress she wore was torn at the seams and frayed around the hem.
I could only stare in fascination as the rumpled creature tore at the man, grunting with the dark desire of the hunger.
Quite suddenly the other vampire sensed that someone was near, and her head snapped up. Eyes glowing like the fires of Hades, her gaze swept over the street and finally came to rest on me. A harsh growl uttered forth from her throat.
“Please, I do not wish to-“ I began to say softly, but a commotion nearby shut off my words.
“Over here!”
It was a man’s voice that shouted, breaking the silence of the night.
I automatically slunk backwards into a doorway and enshrouded myself in the shadows.
The vampire whirled about on her hands and knees just as several young men elegantly dressed in fine black suits raced into the street. They took in the ghastly scene before them with horrified expressions and several crossed themselves.
“She attacked Richard,” shouted a young man with fiery red hair.
He had an accent I did not recognize.
It took a mere moment for me to realize that the men did not seem shocked by the scene before them. In fact, they seemed extremely excited by the whole situation. Several were actually smiling. Only the red haired man seemed to show any remorse at all over witnessing the death of his comrade.
I realized then that they were vampire hunters.
I immediately shrank further into the darkness.
The vampire hissed wildly as the men advanced on her. Scrambling backwards, she perched atop her victim and growled menacingly at the vampire hunter. Without hesitation, one of the men pulled a huge cross from his overcoat and she shrieked in horror.
“Run,” I whispered fervently. “Run!”
The vampire did not run. She leapt. With a scream, she flung herself upwards, sailing over the heads of the men. Her bare feet hit the cold stones and she was off, running like the crazed vampire she truly was. She was one of those the madness had never left.
There were six vampire hunters and five ran after the vampire. I kept waiting for the creature to leap into the night sky and fly off, but instead she ran, barely keeping ahead of the hunters. The last hunter, the one with the fiery hair and the strange accent, knelt over his fallen comrade. He doused him with Holy Water and began to pray.
I fidgeted. Either I had to wait in the shadows and slip away when the hunter left or pursue the vampire to attempt to help her and risk exposure. I hesitated, then made my decision. Hiking up my skirts, I rushed into the street and ran after the vampire hunters.
As my cloak brushed past the vampire hunter kneeling at the fallen man’s side, he whirled about on his knees in surprise.
“Madam! Madam! Do not follow! You must not follow! It is dangerous! Let us take care of the situation,” he called out anxiously.
I ignored him, running faster. My soft shoes padded against the ground as I ran and my cloak fluttered behind me like great wings. I was not as quick as I would have been if I had fed, and my strength was diminished. Dredging up every ounce of my power, I forced myself to move faster.
The mad vampire fled in a wild, frenzied state of mind. Blindly she ran, falling over holes in the road, slamming into walls as she attempted to turn corners, and tripping over thin air. Her muddled mind obviously could not reason. It was inevitable that the five hunters behind her finally managed to outwit her. They forced her into a narrow alley that had no exit. Together, the five hunters advanced on her, blocking her escape, torches held high over their heads.
One hunter, an Eastern Orthodox priest, held a huge crucifix in his hands, and the flickering torchlight illuminated its golden beauty.
The vampire shrieked in rage and fear, her features distorted in the flickering light of the torches. My eyes burned at the sight of the cross and I tried not to look upon it as I drew back, merging with the shadows. I braced myself against a wall, my mind spinning out half formed plans of escape for both of us.
The priest began to chant as he advanced and the other men drew forward to encircle the vampire, forcing her back against the far wall. Tears tinged with blood were running down her cheeks, washing away the filth and revealing her luminescent flesh. She was beautiful and desolate. My heart broke for her and a sob caught in my throat.
“Do not gaze into her eyes,” a man with a heavy French accent ordered.
The priest’s chanting rose in pitch and fervor. I felt my flesh crawl at the sound. They were going to kill the vampire right before me and I could not bear it. The vampire was mad with the hunger, a condition I understood all too well. It was obvious to me that the vampire was confused and certainly not rational enough to defend herself or deliver herself unto safety.
A vampire hunter with pale blue eyes and blond hair knelt down and opened a case he was carrying. The torchlight glimmered off the fierce knife within.
”Franco, here,” he called out in quick, precise tones. He sounded Scandinavian. The hunter drew out a stake and handed it to a short, stout Spanish man that stepped to his side. “The duty is yours to perform.”
“I am honored, Svend,” Franco said reverently.
“The killing blow will be administered by Gilchrist,” Svend continued.
A lanky young man with black hair stepped forward nervously. “It is an honor.” I recognized his Gaelic accent immediately.
Svend lifted a mallet from the bag and presented it to the young man. “This is your first kill. You must be strong and strike down this demon of the pit.”
“I understand and will not flinch in my duty,” Gilchrist stammered, swallowing hard.
“I will finish what needs to be done,” Svend continued, and for himself, he took out an ugly knife with a long wicked blade.
The priest’s voice rose up as the hunters selected for the kill moved to the forefront of the pack.
“Prepare, Arminius, to deliver her soul from this world,” Svend said softly to the priest.
I could take no more.
“Murderers!” I leaped from the shadows before I realized what I was doing, my indignation spurring me to action.
The vampire hunters whirled about, startled expressions on their faces.
“Murdering bastards,” I raged, baring my teeth, which was probably not the brightest thing I have ever done.
“Another bride of the devil,” Svend shouted.
“Abraham, kill her,” Franco called out, not to his comrades but to someone behind me.
I heard footsteps and whirled about. The vampire hunter who had stayed behind was bearing down on me, a stake raised high above his head.
I was too shocked to react and recoiled in terror. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a shadow suddenly break free from a patch of night and coalesce into the dark shape of a man. The hunter was almost upon me, his expression determined, the stake above him beginning to sweep downward.
“You would not dare,” I said imperiously to the hunter, preparing to slap the stake away.
Instead, my feet left the ground and the wind howled in my ears. Below me, the vampire hunter fell forward, carried by his momentum, the stake he meant for my heart clattering away on the road. I saw the upturned faces of the men below me, then I was dropped unceremoniously onto a peaked rooftop.
I immediately scrambled to my feet and whirled about. I found myself face to face with the most extraordinary man. Tall and slender, clad all in black, he stood before me as majestic and beautiful as the very night. It was as if a fragment of the night sky had broken free of the heavenly firmament, fell to earth and coalesced into this glorious being. Hair black and straight as raven feathers fell down around a face as pale and luminous as the moon. His long, narrow face was a fine combination of sharp angles and soft lines. Dark brows were drawn downward over piercing eyes the color of the midnight sky. Sensuous lips, full and seductive, were drawn into a tight line and it took me a long moment to realize that this mysterious vampire was quite furious with me.
“Exactly what, pray tell, were you doing down there?” he finally said in a soft, but strong voice.
I was taken aback with his tone, so I just stared at him in shock. I could not believe I was in the presence of another vampire!
“There were two more! I saw them,” the voice of the Spanish hunter drifted up to them.
“I saw only the woman,” Svend responded, his voice harsh with anger. “And she escaped!”
“There was a man! I swear it!”
“I saw only a blur of the shadows, Abraham, and then she was gone.”
The desperate voices of the vampire hunters rose into the night.
My rescuer raised an eyebrow. “Satisfied? You exposed us both.”
I opened my mouth to respond but could not think of what to say, so I clamped it shut and stomped my foot.
“Damn vampire hunters. Will they ever let us be?” He brushed past me and dared a glance downward.
I stood transfixed, staring at him, yet trying not to. This beautiful man with his long black hair stole my breath utterly away. He was the most magnificent man I had ever seen and I could only gape at him. There was a power flowing about him in great waves that shook me to the very core of my being. I was overwhelmed by his presence.
“It is the end for her, poor girl,” he whispered softly.
I moved to his side and raised my eyes to gaze upon his face. His skin was so pale and smooth that I had this rash desire touch him. The wind whipped his long, black hair about his face, but he took no notice. His gaze was concentrated on the drama below, his dark eyes full of frustration and pity.
A scream drew my attention downward and away from my savior.
The hunters were done discussing the other vampires they had seen and were once more concentrating on the poor creature cowering before them. Slowly, they advanced on the disheveled creature, crosses extended before them. The priest, Arminius, took up his chant again. The vampire screamed in horror and pain. She sank to her knees, her hands held out before her in a futile attempt to shield herself. The priest lunged forward to wave his cross threateningly at her as his voice rose in a rush of indecipherable words.