The taxi wound its way through the darkening streets of Dublin, moving at a crawl to avoid the pedestrians meandering through the city centre. From the backseat, Tanith Low watched a pack of girls hobble down the cobblestones. Weaving their way around puddles and potholes, laughing as they teetered dangerously in stilettos. A stray gust of wind blew a flimsy plastic rhinestone-covered cowboy hat from the crown of one girl's head. She gave chase, branching off from her friends, and stumbling directly into the path of the taxi. The driver put his foot down on the brake pad and his hand on the centre of the steering wheel. The car's horn blared. Tanith was amused to see the girl start at the sound and then, quickly recovering, give them a one finger salute before tottering off into the night in pursuit of her hat.
"Charming," the driver muttered under his breath.
They turned a corner, passing a stag party huddled beneath the flickering neon lights of a nightclub, before pulling up in front of a ritzy looking hotel.
Tanith unbuckled her seat belt and handed the driver a fifty euro note. "Cheers, mate. Keep the change."
The taxi driver thanked her and wished her a pleasant stay. No sooner had the taxi pulled away than a sudden shrill scream pierced the night. Welcome to Dublin, she thought ruefully. Then the years of training kicked in, and her brain switched into fight mode. Without a second thought Tanith turned and pelted towards the outcry.
The cobblestones beneath her feet was slick with rainwater. Music blasted from the open doors of the club, the bass drum keeping time with her heartbeat. She sprinted past throngs of mortals, dodging in and out of pedestrians and traffic alike. A second scream sounded across the city - only to be abruptly cut off.
Tanith turned a sharp corner, her hand reaching for the sword concealed beneath her jacket. Too late, she realised.
A hat skittered across the street, carried by the breeze. Plastic rustling. Rhinestones twinkling. It fluttered for a moment before coming to a standstill at Tanith's feet. Too late.
A naked pale hairless creature stood in the shadows of a bus stop, pressed against a bloody figure. Its claws pierced its victim, holding her in place. Its fangs tore through skin, sinew, muscle and arteries alike. Too late.
She drew her sword. The blade chimed as it slipped from its sheath. The noise made the vampire look up. Its black eyes narrowed as it caught sight of her. Its cherry red-stained mouth twisted into a snarl. The corpse it held fell to the ground, slapping sickeningly against the wet stone.
Tanith didn't bother with the usual chitchat this time. She lunged straight for the creature. Sword swinging for the monster's neck. Knowing this was the best shot she was likely to get.
The vampire parried her swing with one lazy swipe of its claws. She rolled sideways, landed on her feet, and kept moving. Running straight towards a brick wall. Without slowing down, she jumped onto the wall, flipping her centre of gravity. She sprinted up the building, her open jacket billowing behind her. The vampire was hot on her heals. It scrambled up the building, mortar crumbling beneath the beast's claws. Outrunning it wasn't going to be an option. At least not like this.
Tanith jumped up onto the rooftop and spun. Swinging her blade again, as the monster propelled itself onto the roof. But her timing must have been off or else her aim was too low – because she missed the neck and instead her sword sunk into the vampire's right arm. The metal bit deep. The creature howled in rage and agony. First Blood. Good. Now let's end this.
She withdrew her sword and aimed another blow. But the vampire was too fast. It dodged, and swiped at her exposed belly with its good arm. Razor sharp claws tore through her flesh like it was paper. A cry of pain escaped her lips. The sound seemed to fuel the monster. It swiped at her face this time and Tanith ducked, a narrow miss. She took a step back. Her sword swung in broad arcs, trying to create distance between her and her opponent. Her free hand clutched at her abdomen. Blood dripped between her fingers.
The vampire circled. Hungry eyes on her. Waiting for the perfect opportunity to pounce.
Tanith couldn't afford to be patient. She was losing blood faster than she would have liked. Every moment she waited was another moment she weakened. She needed to end this now.
"Come and have a go…" she said, through gritted teeth, while lowering her blade. "If you think you're hard enough."
Her taunt worked. The vampire lunged. Tanith sidestepped and spun. The vampire came at her again. She raised her sword again and swung. Blood blossomed from the vampire's torso. Tanith allowed herself a small smile. The vampire howled again and backed away. She took a step forward, on the offensive now. It eyed her blade warily, hackles rising and took another step back.
The sound of late evening traffic and packed bars rose up from beneath them. A breeze played with Tanith's hair and parted the clouds above. A shaft of moonlight illuminated the rooftop, and for the first time Tanith noticed the vampire's other injuries. Dozens of tiny cuts covered the vampires head and shoulders, like it had run headfirst through a plate glass window. There were a few bruises starting to form too. Clearly, this wasn't its first fight this night. She pitied whoever had crossed its path.
The vampire crouched low onto its haunches. Tanith darted to the left, her sword singing. The vampire sprang back, narrowly avoiding her blade. She feigned to the right, then went left again, but the vampire remained stubbornly out of reach.
Every movement set her gut aflame. She wanted to curl up into a ball and cry, but doing so would almost certainly result in her death. So, she pushed aside the pain and kept moving. She managed to nick the vampire's hip bone with her blade and received a gash on the check in return.
Someone screamed.
There was a half-second where neither of them moved. In that time Tanith's brain processed three things: One, the scream came from the street below them. Two, that it was most likely the result of someone discovering the mutilated body of the vampire's victim. And three, that she was not in any additional danger – which was useful, because killing one vampire was enough to be getting on with.
The vampire reacted first. It rushed at her, and she only barely managed to dodge another swipe of its long, sharp claws.
Tanith's darted forward, and thrust. The tip of her blade pierced the vampire's left eye. The vampire howled in agony. Blood spurted from its injury. It backed away, clawing at the air blindly. It turned tail and ran.
Tanith could have let it go. That's what the white-hot pain blaring in her abdomen wanted to do. Then she thought of the body lying cold and broken on the street below her and her resolve hardened.
She reached into her jacket pocket, and pulled out a couple of pain-numbing leaves. She popped them into her mouth and took off after the vampire.
It bolted across the rooftops. She followed, easily jumping the gaps between buildings. Normally, trying to keep up with a vampire would have been an impossible task, but this vampire was badly injured and already slowing.
As she gained on the vampire, it changed course; sliding down the rooftop tiles and leaping onto the top of a moving double decker bus. Its claws raked the steel roof, scratching away the paint as it scrambled for purchase.
Tanith launched herself forward, soaring over the sidewalk. Her feet hit the slick bus roof and she slid. Only her magic saved her from sliding off the side of the bus. Her centre of gravity shifted, providing a counterbalance to the movement, and slowing her down.
The vampire kept moving, darting across the length of the bus. And then it jumped. Tanith followed, closing the distance between them. It hit the roof of a black armoured van a second before Tanith did.
Alarms screamed, as the vampire collided with the van. Shrill and loud. For her ears, the sound was a painful distraction. For a vampire's super-powered senses, it must have been excruciating.
The creature tore at the van roof, desperately trying to kill this new source of pain. And Tanith Low swung her sword.
Her teacher, Quoneel, had once told her that it took most people three blows to behead someone. But Tanith was stronger than most, and well-practiced in the art of decapitation. The vampire's head rolled from its shoulders with one swift stroke.
Tanith fell to her knees, panting.
The van slowed, pulling up to the curbside, alarms still blaring.
She knew she couldn't stay here. She fumbled in her jacket pocket and pulled out a fresh leaf to numb the pain. Her hands were red and sticky, still shaking from the adrenaline.
The van stopped. The alarm stopped. Her ears still rang.
Two men got out of the van. She slid from the roof, sword still in hand, dripping red. They stared at her, too stunned to pull out their weapons from their holsters. They looked young, inexperienced, and in over their heads.
"I don't suppose you've got a first aid kit in that van?" she asked weakly.
Her words snapped them out of their daze. The young man on the right reached for his gun. The one on the left went for his radio.
"Drop the sss... sword and put your hhh... hands up!" Rightly said in a shaky voice.
"Uhh...we've got a bit of a umm... situation here," Lefty said into the transmitter.
"I'll take that as a no," Tanith murmured.
She turned her backed on the men and walked off.
It was usually a bad idea to walk away from someone who was pointing a gun at you. But Tanith was more concerned about bleeding to death from her wounds, then she was about being shot by these two wannabe cops. It helped that Righty was aiming the gun two feet above her head with the safety still on, and Lefty hadn't turned the radio on.
"Hhh... hey! Hey, stop! You can't just leave," Righty shouted.
But neither of them moved to stopped her, so she kept walking. Her hand pressed against her abdomen, trying and failing to keep the blood from spilling out.
She needed medical attention, and she needed it soon. The Irish Sanctuary was her first choice. She knew it was located somewhere underneath the Waxworks Museum, but she didn't know where the Waxworks museum was. She didn't even know where she was. She picked a direction and hoped for the best. Keeping to the shadows and the side streets, in an attempt to avoid the mortals. She didn't want to think about how many of them might have witnessed her fighting the vampire. The last thing she needed was more witnesses asking questions - the Irish Sanctuary was going to have a hell of a mess to clean up with this one as it was.
She slipped down an alleyway. A darkened shop stood on the corner across the street. There was no display in the window and no sign outside. Litter and graffiti were scattered about the place. To a mortal, it would have looked deserted. To Tanith, it looked like a god-send. This was a mage community, if ever she'd seen one. She could find help here or at the very least something she could use to make a makeshift bandage.
She stumbled across the street, and knocked on the shop door. Footsteps echoed on the other side, she heard the sound of a bolt sliding and a key turning. The door opened.
A man stood in the doorway – he was tall, broad-shoulder, bald and had a face covered in ragged ugly scar tissue. Tanith took a step back and swayed.
His eyes darted from her bloody face to her stomach, and his expression crinkled with concern.
"What happened?" he asked. Straight to the point. No time wasted. She liked that.
"Had a run in with a vampire,"
"Where's the vampire now?"
"Dead,"
He nodded. She thought he looked a little impressed, underneath all the worry. But that might have been the blood loss talking.
"We need to get you to a doctor. My van's parked a few doors down. I can drive you."
"Lead the way," she said, with a grim nod.
He placed a large hand on the small of her back, to steady her, and walked her over to a where a large white van was parked. With his other hand, he pulled a set of keys from his trouser pocked and pressed a button. The van's headlamps flashed, illuminating the dark dirty street for a brief moment. He opened the door and helped her clamber up into the passenger seat.
She let her body collapse into the soft leather seats and her head lull back. It felt good to be sitting down. Her eye lids felt heavy.
"Don't fall asleep on me just yet, tell me you name first."
She forced her eyes open, shaking her head a little to try and keep herself alert.
"Tanith Low."
"Nice to meet you, Tanith Low. My name's Ghastly Bespoke."
The name rang a bell. She'd heard it before, although she was sure they'd never met. He had the kind of face you'd remember. Then it hit her.
"You're one of the dead men." she said.
"I am," he confirmed.
As he spoke he pulled a large spool of hideously pattered fabric out from underneath her seat. He tore off the plastic wrap protecting it, and unwound it.
"I'm going to wrap this around your waist, to help stop the bleeding." Ghastly said. "Can you lean forward for me, Tanith?"
His voice was calm and gentle when he spoke. It was a nice voice. A voice you could trust.
She leant forward, putting her hands on the dashboard to stabilise herself. He started to wrap the cloth around her torso. She hissed in pain, and gritted her teeth, when the fabric touched her injured stomach.
"Sorry," he said.
"Don't be."
He was doing a good job. The makeshift bandage was tight, but not to tight. And he wasn't freaking out like most people did when confronted with a stranger bleeding to death on their doorstep. He was calm, in control. She wondered how often he'd had to do this kind of thing for his war buddies. A lot, she presumed, judging from the stories she'd heard.
When he was finished bandaging her wound, he slammed the passenger door shut. Circling round the front of the car before climbing into the driver's seat. The van started.
Tanith's hand went to her waistcoat pocket. She pulled out a few more pain-killing leaves and popped them in her mouth.
The streets weren't empty, but they were relativity quite at the time of night. Ghastly must have known the city well, because he managed to avoid the busiest of them. Deftly manoeuvring the large vehicle through little winding one-way systems when he could.
"We don't have a long drive. The Hibernian Cinema's less then fifteen minutes from here."
Tanith managed a small smile. "Are you taking me to a doctor or are you taking me out the pictures?"
He gave her a smile of his own, taking his eyes off the road for only a second.
"Kenspeckle Grouse runs a clinic there. You'll be in good hands with him. He knows more about healing people than all the Sanctuary doctors combined."
Tanith nodded. She'd heard of Professor Grouse, although she'd never met him. His genius was infamous in the magical communities. If anyone could patch her up, he could.
"Hold on tight," Ghastly said, flooring the van.
They sped across a junction, past a red light, dodging between a green mini and a silver people carrier. Horns blazed. The sound made her startle. That was good, it meant she was still alert.
The leaves were helping. She no longer felt like she was going to pass out from the pain of her injuries. Blood loss, perhaps, but not pain.
"What brings you to Dublin?" Ghastly asked.
"An old acquaintance asked me to visit."
"You work for the English Sanctuary?"
"Sometimes. I'm more of a freelancer."
He nodded. It might have sounded like idle chatter, but she'd been around enough injured people herself, to know that he was trying to gauge her level of consciousnesses. He didn't try and press her for details, of which she was grateful for. She wasn't sure whether she could trust him yet, even if he was in process of saving her life.
They made it to the cinema in under fifteen minutes, as Ghastly had promised. He helped her out of the van and into the dark decaying building. They stumbled past pictures of dead film stars and rows of empty seats. The red velvet curtains in the screening room parted to reveal an image of the door. They passed through it effortlessly. On the other side of the curtains were bright artificial lights and gleaming white floors.
"Hello?!" Ghastly shouted, down the empty corridor. "We've got an emergency."
For a minute nothing happened. Then she heard the sound of footsteps echoing off the floor. A grouchy looking elderly man scuttled around the corridor, dressed in a yellow bathrobe and matching slippers. Kenspeckle Grouse, she presumed. He took one look at them and tutted.
"Mr. Bespoke, you should have called ahead. I would have everything set up and waiting for you."
"We were in a bit of a hurry," Ghastly said.
"Well never mind. You're here now. Come into the medical bay."
He led Tanith and Ghastly into a large clinical looking room with rows or empty pristine beds. By now, most of Tanith's weight was being held up by Ghastly. He set her down on the edge of a stiff looking cot, with a careful tenderness.
Kenspeckle began to unwind the makeshift bandage. Blood had seeped through the fabric.
"What's your name?" he asked, as he worked.
"Tanith Low."
"What happened?"
"Vampire attack."
Tanith heard the professor's sharp intake of breath, his bottom lip quivered.
"It's dead," Ghastly added quickly. "She killed it."
Kenspeckle's shoulders visibly relaxed. "Good. I dare say you've done the world a service. Although, as your doctor, I recommend you avoid getting into fights with vampires in the future. Were you bitten?"
"No. Just scratched."
Kenspeckle had cleaned the wound on her stomach and was now applying a thick white paste to the area. As soon as it touched her she felt a cold tingling sensation, and then a pleasant numbness. The bleeding slowed, then it stopped. He wrapped a clean bandage around the wound, and then moved onto the cut on her cheek.
"I'm surprised Detective Pleasant isn't with you," Kenspeckle said, to Ghastly. "He's usually the one dragging you into this sort of trouble."
Ghastly shrugged, "Skulduggery's on a fool's errand. I'm staying out of it this time. He's gone too far, even for me. Dragging a mortal child into it..."
Kenspeckle shook his head with disapproval, as he measured Tanith's pulse.
"Lie down on the bed. You're going to need a blood transfusion." he told her.
Kenspeckle bustled. Poking and prodding. He didn't relax until there was an IV in her arm, with a bag of blood on the other end. When he was sure that her life was no longer endangered, he moved onto tidying up the clinic room.
Ghastly pulled up a chair, next to Tanith's bedside and sat down.
"You don't have to stay," she said.
"I want to," he coughed, clearing his throat. "I mean, I want to make sure you're okay. How are you feeling anyway?"
"As good as anyone can feel after being sliced to ribbons by a vampire."
"That good, huh?"
Tanith leaned over, and took his hand. The skin was warm and smooth. She had expected it to be rough and scared, life his face. To her surprise, he blushed, his cheeks and ears flushed pink.
"Thank you, by the way, for saving my life." she said, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.
"Always happy to help."
"I mean it. I owe you. And I won't forget it."
His face reddened further. Over his shoulder she saw Kenspeckle put the roll of bloodied fabric in a bin marked 'clinical waste'. She winced as the metal lid clanged shut on top of it.
"I'm sorry about the fabric. I'd be happy to pay for a new roll."
He shrugged. "Don't worry about it. It was outdated when I bought it. I don't know what I was thinking."
"Probably what a terrifying battle flag you could make out of it."
"Those poodles were pretty scary looking, weren't they?"
"It's the way their beady black eyes kind of stared into your soul."
He laughed. He had a nice laugh. The infectious kind. She couldn't help but join in.
As she laughed a strand of hair fell in front of her eyes, tickling her nose. He reached over and brushed it back, with his free hand. When he leaned over, she caught the heady scent of fresh linen and citrus. Their eyes met. He had warm brown eyes, the colour of polished mahogany. His gaze sent a little thrill racing through her veins.
From across the room came the sound of someone clearing their throat. They both looked over the professor. His arms were folded across his chest.
Ghastly jerked back. They were both blushing now.
"My patient needs to rest, Mr. Bespoke. And so do I. Go home. Then we can all get some sleep." Kenspeckle grunted.
"Of course. Sorry, I've kept you up," Ghastly said.
He stood up. She gave his hand one last squeeze, before letting go. She was sorry to see him leave. It would have been nice to get to know him better.
"Thanks again, for helping me." she said.
"It was my pleasure. I hope you feel better soon."
He turned to Kenspeckle, who was now tapping his leg impatiently.
"Thanks for helping us, Professor," he said.
"Goodnight, Mr. Bespoke. And stay out of trouble."
Ghastly turned and walked towards the door. Her heart sunk. This couldn't be it, could it?
"Hey, Bespoke!" she called out, as he stepped out into the hallway.
He turned to look back at her.
"Next time, you're taking to me the proper pictures. The ones with popcorn and surround sound."
A grin broke across his scarred face. "I'm counting on it. "