Well, this is my second "Team Atlantis-style" story. Hopefully, this means I'm getting better at it, and not that I'm just running out of ideas.
This story is a stand-alone adventure: hopefully if you enjoy it, you'll also like my other Atlantis fic, but it's by no means compulsory reading. I'm aiming to make my stories like the Team Atlantis Saturday-Morning-Cartoon that never was: enjoyable in any order, and possibly best enjoyed when you're in your pyjamas, eating sugary cereal.
I promised vampires. Here they are.
(Disclaimer: There are no hot, angsty, plot-eclipsing vampire OC's waiting to remove Milo's clothing with their teeth. Fear not. It's not going to be that scary...)
Shadow of the Vampire
Chapter 1: Night Flight
The inside of the metal flying machine was warm and dimly-lit, the night sky dark against the little windows. Kida pressed her nose to the cold glass, looking out into the darkness. They were over land now, myriad little lights burning below, the machine swooping inland from the black and featureless sea. Kida wondered, looking out at the dull metal wing of the craft, quite how it flew without the aid of a crystal. She had asked Audrey once. The explanation had involved several hastily drawn diagrams, a few imaginative hand gestures, and the creative use of a wrench and a salt-shaker. Flight, Kida had concluded, was complicated.
Audrey was at the controls now, working away at the levers and buttons. Her and Vinny had taken it in turns to fly and sleep throughout the night, switching shortly before they had reached land. Now, he snored in the seat behind her, his head resting against the window, his feet propped up on the other seat, the match that he constantly chewed stashed safely behind his ear. His moustache moved rhythmically in time with his snoring.
Beneath Vinny's seat, his chubby body firmly wedged under, lay Mole, although it was hard to tell: he had cocooned himself in a blanket, only his huge, mud-encrusted boots poking out. He had been like that since take-off, curled up in a gibbering heap, refusing to move "until we are back on ze good, solid ground". Occasionally, a faint whimper came from the grubby heap.
Besides her, snoring softly, was Milo. Her Milo. A book was still open on his lap, and his head had fallen ever so slightly forwards over it, his body swaying softly with the motion of machine. His soft chestnut hair had fallen down in a curtain over his huge glasses, his long, thin hands still gripping the pages. It wasn't the first time she had seen him dozing over a book: he was always seeking knowledge, pouring over his vast collection of books, insisting on staying up "just five more minutes" to finish off an interesting chapter. For someone who wasn't even half a century old, his knowledge astounded her.
She peered down at the pages, the words peeking out between his skinny fingers. Mr. Whitmore was sending them to a place called "Romania". There had been a problem with some strange creatures known as "vampires", creatures which Milo had been researching ever since they'd been given the briefing. From what he'd told her, and from the reactions of the others, it seemed that these vampires were similar to some of the blood-drinking spirits of Atlantean legend. And some of the blood-drinking creatures of Atlantean reality.
The flying machine gave a faint shudder, and tilted slightly. There was a muffled squeak from behind her. She peered out of the window. Yes, the machine was flying lower now, the bright lights below coming closer, the faint shapes of fields and houses becoming visible in the gloom.
"Hey, wake up back there." Audrey shouted from the cockpit. "We're coming in to land. Shake a leg. I didn't fly you all here to sleep."
Kida nodded, and gently shook Milo's shoulder.
When the horrible shaking had stopped, and he had fully convinced himself that they weren't plummeting to their deaths, Mole finally let himself uncurl from his huddled little ball. He prised his shaking hands from his head, and poked his face out from under the blanket. Yes, it seemed like the infernal flying contraption had stopped. The floor he was lying on already seemed to feel safer, more stable, now it was touching land.
Shuffling, scraping his back against the underside of the chair, he squeezed himself out, and wobbled to his feet. Around him, the rest of the team were yawning into life, stretching their legs, and reaching for their luggage. How could they be so nonchalant? How could they relax enough to sleep, when they were hurtling through the air in a flimsy metal cage, suspended miles above the sweet, solid earth? How could they sit, stretched out in chairs, when obviously the only safe place to be was under them, with your eyes closed, praying quietly and trying to pretend that you were safe on the ground?
He sighed, and retrieved his stuffed toy mole from under the chair, hugging it close. Clearly, his friends were some very strange people.
"I've set her down in a field, not too far from the town." Said Audrey, coming in from the cockpit, stretching her arms out and yawning. "Shouldn't take us more than 5, 10 minutes at most to get there."
Milo nodded, fumbling to fit a large book back into his luggage. Beneath his chair, Obby uncurled, the fat purple lava dog yawning, his huge pink tongue lolling out.
"Right. Brilliant. Is everyone awake?"
"No." Grunted Vinny.
"Good to hear it." Milo finally succeeded in cramming the book inside, the hard corner tearing out the other side of the bag. He peered at it, and sighed. "Everyone got their luggage? We should get a start before it gets too late. We don't want our hosts waiting up for us."
Mole nodded.
"And we do not want to be out in ze dark when zhere are vampires around!"
Audrey smirked, shouldering her bag.
"Don't worry, Mole. If any of them bite you, they won't get far before they die of food poisoning."
"Well, zhat is comforting… Wait a moment. What are you implying?"
"I'm just saying, I think vampires prefer blood, rather than a thin soup of mud and cream filling…"
Milo stood up hurridly, cutting off Mole's reply.
"Good grief, look at the time! We should get going!"
Mole cast one last glower at Audrey, before picking up his bag, and making his way down the stairs of the plane, night air and soft drizzle cold on his few areas of exposed skin. His feet connected with the soft, slightly slippery mud of the field, and he let out a little groan of joy as his boots sank up to the ankles. From the sticky way the mud clung to him, and the soft squelch it made as they began to trudge across the field, it was predominately clay-based, with high cohesion and low drainage, rich in sediment washed down from the Carpathian Mountains. He would have to take a nice big sample before they left.
Above, there was a vivid flash, as white lightning streaked across the sky. A few seconds later, there was the deep, rumbling boom of thunder. Obby gave a whine, and huddled close to Milo, almost knocking him over. Mole wondered, vaguely, why a creature born to withstand the crushing heat of molten rock would fear the thunder. Perhaps, he mused, when you lived deep in the churning volcanic bowels of the earth, it was only natural to develop a healthy fear of sudden flashes and rumbling noises. Above, the sky flashed again, and fat raindrops bounced off his headgear, his goggles becoming foggy. The air was filled with the sweet, sweet smell of wet sediment.
The lights of the village were close now, the mud giving way to rain-slick cobblestones of glossy Devonian limestone. Behind him, Mole heard Vinny grunt.
"Great. I think my shoes are more mud than shoe."
"Delightful, isn't it? Ze sediments of ze Transylvanian Basin have been around since ze Quatenary Period!"
"Eh, sure. Delightful."
By now, Milo had reached the door to a large, timbered house, and was peering up at the structure.
"Er, I think this is the place." He said.
"Then hurry up and knock." Audrey pushed past Mole, and huddled under the eaves. "Rains getting into places rain shouldn't get."
"Alright. Here goes."
He gently rapped his knuckles against the door. Audrey sighed, sidled over, and gave it a hard hammering with her fist.
"Er…thanks Audrey."
The door creaked inwards, the rich, pungent smell of garlic hitting Mole's nose, bringing back a warm wave of nostalgia. He squinted up into the light, his eyes struggling to adjust. Silhouetted in the door, against the chink of firelight, was the vague shape of a woman.
"Who are you? What do you want?" Her voice carried a trace of panic.
"We're friends of Mr. Whitmore." Said Milo, peering through the chink. "He sent us because of the, er, vampire problem."
"What is the code word?"
"Er… porpoise."
Her face softened into a relieved smile.
"Please, forgive my caution." She said, opening the door to them. "They are everywhere. They will do anything to get inside, take any shape. Come inside, quickly."
They hurriedly scuttled inside. A warm fire roared in the grate, and from the ceiling hung garlands of flowers, thorns, and sweet dried garlic. If he shut his eyes for a moment, Mole could almost imagine he was back in his mother's kitchen, sorting his rock collection at the kitchen table as she fussed over a huge pot of something steamy and herb-filled.
"Garlic, hawthorn and wild roses." Milo's voice jolted him out of happy memories. "All classic wards against vampires."
Their host nodded.
"Indeed. None of the undead can bear the smell. It won't keep out a truly determined vampire, sadly, or else we wouldn't have need of you. But it helps to keep them at bay for a while, at least."
"Wow. I mean, this is just like in the books I've read. There's a lot of conflicting advice, about holy water, and silver, and grave-dirt, and sunlight. But the garlic and hawthorn charm works? That's incredible! These vampires must have a wonderful sense of smell."
"Yes they do. You are right that there are many conflicting myths, some totally false, some with a grain of truth. I will tell you all you wish to know shortly. But first, you must be tired and hungry. My daughter and I have eaten already, I'm afraid, but we have put some aside for you." She smiled, and extended a hand. "Mariana Vaduva."
"Milo Thatch. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Vaduva."
"If you can help end this blood-sucking plague, then the pleasure is all mine."
She gave a faint smile, then turned and called up the stairs.
"Silvia! Silvia dear, come and show our guests to the dining room."
There was a faint creak from above, then a soft voice called down.
"Coming mother!"
The creaks increased in volume, as Silvia came down the stairs. Mole cast a glance up, from where he had been examining the dirt caked to his boots.
He blinked.
Something skipped a beat inside.
She…she was beautiful. That fact hit him like a blunt object, before he even had time to register what she looked like. He simply knew, the instant that he set eyes on her, that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, more beautiful than a freshly-dug hole, or a pile of finely grained soil. Now the initial haze was wearing off, he could see that she looked very little like her thin, tall, dark-haired mother: she was short, curvaceous, her hair sparkling like finest rutilated quartz, her skin white as marble, or possibly howlite, lips red as iron ore. He barely felt Audrey's elbow jab into his ribs.
"Mole! Your tongue's supposed to stay inside your mouth!" She hissed.
He didn't hear, or particularly care. She was coming closer, stepping down from the stairs, bringing with her the earthy tang of soil. Was…was that dirt caked under her fingernails, staining the soles of her bare feet? Yes, yes it was, a thick loam entirely uncharacteristic of the area, glittering with mica inclusions. Mon dieu, she must have a soil collection too!
"Ah, Silvia." He was jolted out of his thoughts as she glided over to her mother. "If you'd be so good as to take our guests through to their seats. And do wash your hands before serving them, dear." A little laugh. "Not everyone shares your passion for gardening."
"Yes mother. Gardening."
"Eh, don't be too hasty." Said Vinny. "I once grew a petunia, must have been at least this big…"
"I also enjoy gardening! Mainly ze digging. …I am very good at it. Perhaps I can dig for you? Do you need a hole?"
Mrs. Vaduva sighed.
"That will not be necessary. Now. Follow Silvia. I will heat up your supper."