So, here we go then: the sequel to the sequel to Ice Cool Whitechapel! If you haven't read the previous two series, then you probably should, because much of this won't make sense otherwise. I'm looking forwards to having fun with this story: with its plot, with its character - and with you. With Ethan as its primary villain, this is, I suspect, going to be a rather unusual addition to the MBAV fan-fic world, so don't expect anything to be as it seems...

As usual, I own nothing, and, as ever, am very, very keen for reviews and comments.

Enjoy!

Requiem

Earth to earth

The spade broke the crust of the earth with a decisive crunch. The brown soil bubbled up the blade, and was thrown off to side, the worms within wriggling away to safer pastures. The green grass still twinkled happily around the little mound of dirt.

That would not last.

Again the spade plunged into the ground; again soil was cast off to the side. And again. And again. The spade flashed in the early morning sunlight. The sun had risen lazily that day, as if reluctant to watch over the events of the coming day.

Who would blame it?

The soil was still a little hard with frost. Occasionally, lumps of earth would be bound together by gossamer strands of white. On hitting the ground, they would shatter, and water dripped, like tears, into the earth once more. It took a bit of effort to dig that morning, but what had to be dug had to be dug. For now, the hole was small – barely a hollow.

But it would grow.

Ethan sauntered along a side-street near one of the posher residential areas in Whitechapel. Here, they imagined that they were in their own little chocolate-box village, separate from the main town, with their tantalizing faux old-fashioned shops and 'independent' traders. They liked to think of themselves as in a rural idyll – they couldn't quite give up the guilty pleasure of the convenience of the larger town, though. They liked having a hospital, and a school, and a train station. They even (though they would never have admitted it) liked the supermarket – the very one that they had all protested about. All it needed was a little honey-coloured church and they could have been in any village on any biscuit tin in England.

Except, of course, Ethan noted to himself, that they were in Canada. And there lay the problem with the whole set-up. It was a delectable fantasy based on a saccharine nostalgia for something that they, or even their ancestors (except fairly distantly), had never known. He smiled to himself at their self-delusion. Let them have it. It did no harm.

Stopping at the plate-glass window of a 'Boutique Patisserie' (OK, maybe not so English after all…), Ethan checked his reflection. It took him a moment to realise that it wasn't there. He chuckled at himself for forgetting already. He felt his brain acted a bit like fudge, at times. It was, admittedly, probably the most annoying thing about becoming a vampire. Sighing, a little bitter, he took a tissue from his pocket, spat on it, and rubbed his chin, mouth, and cheeks. It took on a faint red tinge – not blood-red, incidentally, but more a … strawberry. It would have to do. Ethan ran his tongue around his teeth, and then licked his lips, hoping that he had rubbed any blood off of them. Right. Ready.

He went on walking. Every now and again, he would swipe a flower from someone's front garden – each one immaculate, tasteful and almost identical in their arrangements – Ethan wondered idly whether there had been a suggestion on some TV gardening show. As he walked, he gathered his flowers into a loose bouquet. Hyacinths, roses, lilacs, snowdrops, daffodils, bluebells – he voraciously collected them all.

Reaching another crisp, pristine garden, he stopped, and broke off a lemon-yellow daffodil by the gate. He stared at it, smiling, before adding it, in pride of place, to his collection. He pushed open the quaint wooden gate. The hinges were well oiled, he noticed, without the least hint of a squeal. Ethan then made his way up the neatly paved path, precisely aligned between two stretches of short-cropped grass. With an easy lope, he mounted the front step, and rang the door-bell.

He waited, shifting his flowers from hand to hand, and anxiously trying to rub the blood off his teeth. He glanced down at his top. Fortunately, his jumper was still clean; the fluffy yellow duck resplendent in the sun.

As the door began to creakily open, Ethan quickly hid his flowers behind his back and smoothed down his hair.

"Ethan!" exclaimed Hannah in surprise.

Ethan smiled nervously, biting his lip. She smiled back, and frowned.

"Why are you here…?" she said, looking him up and down.

"I – I –" he stammered, and, then, jerkily, brought the flowers from behind his back. "I love you."

Bright eyed and grinning helplessly, Hannah took the bunch in her hand, which was shaking with excitement. "Oh – Ethan – really – I didn't think that you'd consider –"

"Is that a 'yes'?" asked Ethan, shyly.

She swallowed, then nodded, then leaned forwards and kissed him. "Yes, Ethan, yes!" After she was done, she pulled back, staring at him with a wide, joyful grin on her face. "I just never thought that someone like you would even consider me," she gushed, "and then there was always Sarah, who is so nice and so pretty, and, well, I didn't think boring little me had a hope of even being noticed by you!"

She beamed again, and Ethan was half-afraid that she was going to squeal with excitement and happiness. She didn't though, restraining herself slightly, and was content, it seemed, just to gaze at him adoringly. He smiled dopily back, and they held each other's gaze for a long time.

Hannah eventually broke the stare by dipping her head and sniffing greedily at the flowers, not noticing that she got a nose-full of bright yellow pollen from a lily. "These are lovely, Ethan," she said. "Where on earth did you get them?"

"Oh, you know," replied Ethan, coyly, "around." He spread out his hands in a vague, and what he hoped was a mysterious, manner. She laughed, and, rather boldly, squeezed his nose on a playful impulse.

"I don't mind if you want to keep it a secret, Ethie."

Ethie? Well, if that's how his name was sugared in her mouth, that's how it would stay. He smiled again. At the same moment, his stomach rumbled noisily. He looked a little sheepish and embarrassed, averting his gaze from hers and self-consciously covering his mouth.

Hannah giggled briefly at his momentary loss of poise. She stepped forwards and resting her hand lightly on his stomach, able to feel it vibrate slightly as it gurgled and sloshed. Putting her arms around his waist, she pressed herself close against him. She looked up into his face, amusement in her eyes.

"Hungry?" she asked, laughingly poking a finger into his midriff, which seemed, to her surprise, already rather full.

"Rather," he said, smiling. It was a moment before Hannah realised that the smile didn't reach his eyes. His black eyes. His black, cold, dead eyes that hung impassively like circles of treacle within his head. Her fearful gaze shifted a little, and she saw that the smile revealed two sharply pointed teeth, slightly red at the tips. She opened her mouth to scream – but Ethan swooped down and cut her off.

When she dropped to the ground, the daffodils, roses, hyacinths, lilacs, daisies, bluebells and snowdrops fanned out around her, crushed and scattered randomly across the porch. By some fluke, the white lily landed straight along her body, its petals turning crimson in the trickle of blood from her neck.

As he left, skipping on every other step to avoid the cracks in the paving, Ethan found himself laughing again.

It was remarkably easy, this vampire thing. He really had no idea what Sarah had made all the fuss about. Always whining about blood deliveries and so on, and, of course, that colossal upset when she actually did drink someone's blood. People practically offered themselves up for draining!

Ethan leaned against a lamppost and looked up and down the road. All these people, wandering around so freely. He nodded and smiled cheerily at those who passed him, sharing a grin with those who smiled at his jumper. Any one of these he could follow, befriend, isolate, and kill. Just pick them off at random, really.

Hannah had been almost too easy, in hindsight. So pathetically eager to be loved. All he'd had to do was fake it a little, and –

No more Hannah. No more of that irritating little breathless gushy doe-eyed busybody, who followed him around, caught in the certainty of the delusion that because he didn't have a girlfriend, and she didn't have a boyfriend, then they were fated to be together. He snorted. As if! And after she'd become his - Jane's - babysitter, it had been even worse. She'd felt that that had given her the right to follow him everywhere. Even the few minutes that he had pretended to love her revolted him.

There was a reprimanding gurgle from his stomach, where Hannah's blood swirled, mixing, Ethan supposed, with Benny's. He wondered if they would mingle. There, perhaps, Hannah might learn how hopeless her cause had been. Ethan patted his tummy, feeling the blood slosh around. All the same, now.

His stomach grumbled again. Was that his digestion, or was he hungry again? He wasn't sure. How much blood was a vampire meant to have? Was there an upper limit?

His eye caught someone on the other side of the road. He recognised them, vaguely. Someone fairly low down on the school hockey team, he thought. High enough, though, to throw his weight around at school. Ethan cracked his knuckles. Maybe it was time to use his new-found powers for good. Just this once – then he could go around biting people who didn't really deserve it. Licking his lips, he crossed the road, trailing the boy.

He smiled to himself. This was going to be fun!