So, somehow, I'm managing to publish a new story a couple of days after my last new story. That was rather quick.
This first chapter is called: No Bite.
The mansion rose above the village, nestled on the hill which separated the hamlet from the rest of its country. Its Gothic structure, complete with ugly gargoyles would probably seem foreboding and formidable at night, perhaps with lightning in the sky. However, in the sunlight, Alfred could see the care which the house was lavished with. He marvelled at the red roses which stretched across the building's face. Heather and some sort of pink flower the American was unfamiliar with were lovingly cared for in the flowerbeds which had been carefully made along the front of the house.
He frowned and lowered his binoculars. Surely he was seeing things? There hadn't been flowers at the other places. Then again, perhaps this was to lull people into a false sense of security. Especially unsuspecting girls. Alfred raised his binoculars again and focussed on the windows. Sure enough, the thick drapes were drawn against the sunlight.
Grinning, Alfred replaced the binoculars in his bag. His initial surveillance had come to fruition. Tonight he definitely had a hunt to go to. He scrambled to his feet from behind a large rock on the opposite hill and dusted himself off. It was time to head back to his room and prepare himself.
Alfred F. Jones was the greatest vampire hunter the world had ever known. At least, that was what he had told the entirety of the village below. And, indeed, every hunt he had gone on had ended in the death of the vampire and him leaving without a scratch. There were plenty of hunters around but Alfred was the most famous in the underground society that knew of the creatures. This was not because of his skill but rather because of what he did afterwards.
When the vamp was dead and its body was beginning to rapidly rot, Alfred would pry open its mouth and rip out its fangs. He had quite the collection in the bottom of his chest of drawers now.
And tonight he would get another set. Of course, he could go in during the day and have a nice, easy kill. But Alfred relished the thrill of the hunt, of the life and death situations during the fight. He relished seeing the monsters' fear as he drove his silver stake into their hearts.
Cautiously, Alfred approached the manor. His trusty silver stake was shoved through a home-made scabbard. Holy water was in a bottle in his back pocket. The silver cross around his neck was no longer hidden beneath his clothes but swung free, glinting in the moonlight. A crossbow was gripped tightly in his hands. On his head was a Stetson which he considered cool. It didn't really do anything but it made him feel better for not having garlic – he gagged on the smell himself and carrying some around always made him feel ill.
Feeling as though he was as prepared as could be, flitted across the lawn. There was a sign forbidding this but he didn't want the vampire to hear him whilst he walked up the gravel pathway. Of course, Alfred knew that, once inside, it would matter nought whether it had heard him or not. It would be able to smell his blood, hear his heartbeat.
When he reached the door, he took a breath to prepare himself for what would be inside. Then, with a harsh kick, the door was thrown open. Alfred overbalanced a little and barely stopped himself from toppling over. He had been expecting it to be locked. With a frown, he stepped inside and quietly shut the door behind him, noting that there had once been a chain. Shrugging, he turned back to the hall behind and surveyed it.
Candles lit the indoors, the flickering light showing Alfred the small tables adorned with vases. In these expensive-looking items were flowers: roses and heather and daisies and whatever those pink flowers were. Alfred blinked at them. Where were the huge portraits? Where were the ugly statues and the suits of armour? Sure, not all the vampires lived in huge mansions like this one. But the ones who did seemed to be the old-school vamps who decorated in the exact same way as their predecessors. Why did this seem like a normal person's home?
And where was the vampire? It should have attacked him or sent someone to fetch him or done something by now. Had Alfred made a mistake? Had he just burst into someone's home, someone who wasn't a vampire?
"Hello?" he called, tentatively, cursing himself for doing so. There was still a possibility that this was a vampire's residence. To find out, he would have to canvass the place, make sure there were no vampires hidden in the dull house.
As he wandered around the house, his guard still up, Alfred noticed how normal everything seemed. There was a TV in the living room, bookcases filled with both the old and the new. The kitchen had a well-worn stove and there was even a microwave. A study contained open files and filing cabinets, a silent computer staring blankly at the large, green, leather chair behind the desk. Inside the games room, Alfred almost lost himself – after all, he couldn't afford some of the latest games and here was a PS4 with all its released games. There was also a pool table, an air-hockey table, an old jukebox with a rather eccentric mix of British and foreign songs and rather comfortable-looking chairs. He found a room with a bar within it along with a room with nothing but a chandelier and floor-to-ceiling windows – perhaps a ballroom.
When he finally ventured upstairs, he found the first odd things in the place. In the first room he tried, there was an empty coffin instead of a bed, its lid propped up against it. Pictures and paintings of beautiful, snowy landscapes hung on the wall. A hat sat on top of a chest of drawers; it looked rather old and worn.
Opposite that room, Alfred found a large bed, the entirety of the space covered in red. Not blood red, as he had first assumed with his glance, but, rather, a more romantic red. Or, at least, that was the feel to it. The place where it seduced its women victims, Alfred presumed.
The next room made Alfred tense and grip his weapon tighter. There was another empty coffin. The landscapes on the walls were of rolling green hills and forests, the occasional fairytale castles poking through them. A small, black hat, also old and worn, sat on its place on a chest of drawers.
After finding a pair of lavish bathrooms, Alfred finally came to the last room (apart from the basement but he didn't want to go down there just yet). This one had yet another empty coffin, though its lid lay haphazardly across it. The landscapes here were also of rolling hills but there was one he was sure contained Big Ben. No hats adorned the chest of drawers but there was a hatstand upon which a thin, worn cloak hung.
He frowned at the coffin. The others had been wholly taken off and laid gently beside it. Why was this one different? It was almost as if something had been in a hurry to get out...
The atmosphere in the room was tense, and Alfred ran his eyes over everything once again. Moonlight managed to light the place as it reached through the slight gap in the thick, green curtains. It caused shadows to conceal the corners of the room. As he gazed around, one of the shadows shifted.
Almost without thinking or registering the movement, Alfred's hands brought up the crossbow and pulled the trigger. A swishing sound filled the silence followed by a small cry of surprise as the arrow found its mark – perhaps not the creature's heart, but certainly its body. Meanwhile, Alfred's fingers moved on automatic, plucking another arrow and loading it. Mathias had said something about fixing the reloading problem – he'd have to speak to him again when he saw him next.
"Stop being cowardly, vampire, and come on out," Alfred demanded.
"I-I hardly think I'll be doing that," came a quiet voice. It had a crisp, British accent.
Alfred paused and frowned. Had the vampire just stammered? "Oh? Frightened of a 'mere human', are ya?" There was a silence and, surprised, Alfred stepped further into the room but stopped just short of the coffin. "Are you telling me that you're scared of humans?" he asked with a disbelieving laugh.
Beyond the coffin, the shadow fluctuated. Alfred aimed and pulled the trigger. There was a yelp of surprise. Quickly, Alfred began to reload but the vampire seemed to have realised that Alfred was busy, unable to shoot him again. The noise of cloth moving alerted Alfred and he looked up in time to see a dark shape detach itself from the dark and launch itself at him. A weight hit the hunter and he was knocked backwards, his crossbow and bolt flying from his hands, his hat toppling from his head.
Knowing he was in danger, Alfred quickly grabbed at his silver cross and held it up. A hiss emitted from the darkness and the weight shifted from him. Looking at the vampire, Alfred realised that it was about to flee instead of fight. With a low growl of annoyance, Alfred grabbed at it, catching some cloth. The vampire cried out as it was thrown to the ground. Quickly, Alfred scrambled to his feet, drew his stake and stamped down in the middle of the creature's bulk. It cried out in pain and Alfred placed all his weight on it.
"Well, now. It looks as if you're not going anywhere." With a grin, Alfred pulled a torch from a pouch attached to his belt. He didn't usually use it unless he really couldn't see but he wanted to gloat over his next prize. Clicking it on, he leaned over and pointed the light at the thing. It hissed and turned its head.
The vampire was wearing green and white pinstriped pyjamas, a forest green dressing gown coming undone from his exertions. Its hair, instead of being black like most would expect, looked like messy straw. A scowl adorned its face as it tried to twist away from the light. Alfred flicked his wrist and shone it to the side, knowing the vampire would turn its head to him. Sure enough, the glare of his bottle green eyes pierced his own.
Grinning, Alfred pulled the silver stake from its scabbard. The vamp flinched and turned its head away. "Hey, now. Look at me. You should face your death instead of skulking in the shadows." Slowly it looked back at him, a resigned look on its face. "But first," added Alfred, his grin widening. "I want a look at those pearly whites. I'd like to know what my prize will be like."
"Prize?" asked the vampire, looking horrified.
"Yup," said Alfred. And, before the vampire could turn its head, he used the point of his stake to pull its upper lip away. For a moment, he couldn't understand what he was seeing. Then he tilted the torch and, in its light, he could see the truth. He froze and stared.
Twisting its head sharply away, the vampire growled through gritted teeth. "What the hell do you think you're-" it began but was interrupted by Alfred grabbing its chin and turning it back to him. To get a closer look, Alfred dropped to his knees, straddling the thing, one hand keeping it pinned with a firm grip. This time, he used his fingers to pry its mouth open. The vampire made muffled noises of protest but Alfred ignored them as he stared into the mouth.
There were no fangs.
"What the hell?" muttered Alfred.
However, the vampire seemed to have had enough. With his hands full, Alfred couldn't defend himself from the unnatural strength of the creature. It put all its force into shoving him off and Alfred found himself falling backwards, hitting his head off the side of the coffin. As his head swam and he fought to stay conscious, the creature fled the room.
"Dammit!" gasped Alfred, scrambling to his feet. He swayed, steadied himself on the coffin and rushed from the room. It was just ahead of him, descending the stairs. One of its slippers remained in the upper hall, however, as well as one of the crossbow bolts and, annoyed, Alfred kicked at them as he passed.
On the ground floor, he paused and listened intently, eyes roving over every clue. That was when he spotted a candle near the study – it had been blown out, perhaps in the wake of someone's hurried passing. Quickly, he hurried to the door and wrenched it open. The vampire's wide eyes turned to him and Alfred once again froze in confusion.
It wasn't trying to escape. It wasn't trying to gain sustenance to be able to overpower Alfred. It wasn't even waiting for him with some sort of trap.
The vampire was sitting behind the desk, the receiver of a telephone at his ear.
"Don't come any closer!" it demanded, looking a mixture of annoyed and upset.
"I better get paid well for this," muttered Alfred. Not heeding the vampire's warning – if that was what it had been – Alfred stalked closer. The vampire looked trapped. Perhaps it didn't want to hang up. Perhaps he had realised there was nowhere for it to go. Whatever the reason, it watched Alfred get closer with wide eyes. Reaching the monster, Alfred grabbed it by the back of its neck and threw it to the ground, face down. Its grip on the receiver was not loosened and the phone fell from its place on the desk. However, Alfred could hear that it was still ringing. Who was it calling?
There was a faint click from the earpiece. "Hallo?"
Excitedly, the vampire pulled the receiver to its ear. "Lukas! Jeg trenger hjelp! Jege-!"
But Alfred realised the danger of this. There were two other vampires who lived here. And, if this one called them and they came running, this simple job would become a lot more complicated. He flipped the base of the phone over as the vampire was talking in whatever language it was using and hit the hook, cutting off the call. The vampire froze when he realised this.
"What did you say to him?" breathed Alfred.
"You think I would tell you? It seems you are a very stupid breed of human," snarled the vamp.
Knowing that he wouldn't get very far questioning the vampire on that subject, he changed his focus. "Where are your fangs?"
A bitter laugh escaped the being beneath him. "You got here too late. Some other hunter" - oh, the venom in that word - "turned up today and surprised me in my slumber. He held me down and pulled them out. So hurry up and kill me!"
"Huh?" asked Alfred, loosening his grip.
"I can't feed, you blithering idiot! And I can hear your heart, smell your blood. You have no idea about the hunger, the thirst. If I can't feed, there's no point in my being alive. Kill me."
"So you really have been feeding on those poor girls?" growled Alfred, his grip tightening again.
"What girls?"
"The two that've gone missing from the village."
"What?!" cried the vampire. It sounded genuinely upset. For a moment Alfred frowned at the back of his head before letting him go and standing. "What are you doing?" it asked, scrambling to its knees and turning to him.
"You sound... surprised. Did you really have nothing to do with those girls?"
Green eyes surveyed him, puzzling over whether Alfred was worth talking to. Finally, he took a breath and spoke. "Vampires don't just drink blood. We can survive on other things if we are in good health. Of course, every so often we require human blood. However, my- I have been surviving on donated blood. I masquerade as a nurse in a blood bank and collect blood that way. When I have stocked up some, I am careful with it, feasting on the blood of... lesser creatures such as cattle and pets to save the humans' for more dire days.
"But... I was attacked a few days ago by a different hunter while I was out on business. It has weakened me but there's not much of my stock left. There's only one bag in the fridge." It lifted slim, pale fingers to its neck. "And I'm so thirsty," it added, a little hoarse now.
Alfred just stared at it. So he had met the weirdest vampire ever, it seemed. Seriously, what the hell? It didn't kill? Was that why it was dressed in pyjamas and had a study and... everything? It was still a vampire, though. So should he kill it or leave it alone? After all, it couldn't harm anyone without its fangs. Speaking of which, Alfred was rather annoyed that he was missing out on his fangs. Who the hell did this? This was like a breach of the Hunter Code (which was not something he had made up)!
"What did the Hunter look like?" he settled for asking.
"Huh? Oh. Blonde, blue eyes. Rather tall. Didn't even smile while he was pretty much torturing me. He didn't speak, though, so I can't tell you what sort of accent he had." The vampire suddenly blinked and frowned a little. "Wait, why are you asking?"
Considering his options, Alfred stared at the thing in front of him. It had probably killed people before blood donation became a thing. But it was harmless now. And he really wanted those fangs – he was a bit obsessed about collecting them. It was almost as bad as his comic collection. To get the fangs, he would need to find the Hunter. And, to find a blonde-haired and blue-eyed guy that could be anyone, he would probably need the vamp to identify them.
With a sigh, he unbuttoned another pouch and clasped the thing inside. "Listen," he said as he stepped forward. "Maybe we can help each other, hm?"
"How so?" asked the fang-less vamp as he warily watched Alfred crossing the space between them. The thing must have decided not to appear intimidated as it stayed where it was, luckily.
"Well, I need you to identify the Hunter. Do you think you could?" He was now directly in front of the vampire and he slowly inched a hand nearer to it.
"Oh, yes. I'll never forget that face."
"Good," said Alfred and grabbed the creature's arm. Before it had the chance to do anything more than widen its eyes, Alfred plunged the syringe into its neck. "Don't worry," he told it as he heard the sharp intake of breath. "It's only dead man's blood. You'll only be unconscious for a while." He pulled the syringe from it and let go of its arm. The vampire gasped again and clutched at its neck, stumbling backwards till it bumped into a filing cabinet. An ornament atop it tumbled to the ground and cracked upon contact with the ground. This caught the agent of darkness' attention and it reached for it even as it slid down to the ground. Its eyelids fluttered as it tried to refocus on Alfred.
"Bastard," it managed to gasp before its head drooped and it was still.
"Awesome," said Alfred. "Uh... Now what?"
It had been a lot of hassle to get the vampire here. Alfred wasn't sure how he had managed to get it to his apartment in New York City alive. Firstly, he had had to carry it into the inn – a feat which was more incredible than it sounds as he had to sneak upstairs with it whilst patrons partied downstairs. That would have been awkward to explain if he'd been found. Then he had had to put it in his trunk and make sure the sunlight couldn't get in anywhere. When he'd finally managed to get to his apartment, he'd had to find a large box and a blanket to transfer the thing from the trunk to his building.
But he had managed all of this without being arrested or killing the unconscious thing now lying on his bed. He was unsure of what to do when it woke up. It'd probably be angry.
As he brought his cup of coffee to his lips, he heard a strangled cry. With a sigh, he set the mug down and went to see what all the fuss was about. At the door, he was met by the vampire who wrenched open the door and glared at him.
"What the-?" it began in a low growl.
"Woah, cool it, Vamp," Alfred interrupted, raising his empty hands. "You're in my apartment in New York City."
"Like. I. Said," began Vamp (something Alfred had dubbed it when he had been talking to him in the car. Which was stupid but he'd been bored).
"Look, all the cool Hunters come here when they're not out a-hunting. We'll probably find your fangs somewhere in the Big Apple. And you're not dead – you should be grateful for that."
Vamp just glowered for a moment before folding its arms over its chest. "Arthur."
"What?"
"That's my name," explained the small vampire. "At least have the decency to call me by my name and not that vile nickname." He shuddered.
"Cool name," said Alfred. "Now, do ya want a cup of coffee?"
"No," replied Arthur, staring at him blankly. "But if you have any blood, I'll take it."
Alfred hesitated. "Hey, now-"
"Oh, come on. You brought me all the way here to help you look for my fangs and you have the audacity to expect to not feed me? I'll go insane from hunger. And I expect you know what that does to vampires."
He did, of course. There had been times when he had had to have help on those sorts of missions. Instead of becoming too weak from their hunger, vampires tended to go crazy. And, with that crazy came an insane amount of strength. Instead of their usual bites, they would rip their victims to bits, drinking their blood much more like an animal, lapping it up with their tongues. Alfred tried to imagine that sort of thing let loose in New York City.
"I don't have any bags of blood here," Alfred stated with a shrug.
"You should have thought of that before you abducted me."
"Abducted?" Alfred laughed loudly. "That's rich, coming from the likes of you."
Arthur flinched but his glare became stronger. "What I have done in the past is of no matter. The present is much more important and what are you going to do about it? This is, after all, your idea so you need to fix it."
The Hunter stared into those green eyes. They seemed to glow now, perhaps due to the better lighting. Quickly sorting through his thoughts and ideas, Alfred settled on the one thing he could really do to solve the problem. With a sigh, he grabbed the vampire's wrist and dragged him through to the kitchen. He pushed Arthur into a seat at the kitchen table and picked up a knife. Turning back to the vampire, Alfred tried not to smirk when he saw the man flinch. Gritting his teeth, Alfred pressed the sharp edge to his forearm. Blood began to seep from the wound, the stinging sensation causing Alfred to wince.
Meanwhile, Arthur was staring at him in shock. Then the smell of blood reached him and he growled, his fingers twitching as he fought to control himself. Rolling his eyes, Alfred moved closer, holding out his arm for him. "Are you sure?" mumbled Arthur.
"I don't make a habit of cutting myself, y'know. Kinda dangerous in my profession." He watched Arthur hesitate for a moment more. Sighing, Alfred grabbed hold of Arthur's hair to hold him steady and pressed his bleeding arm to his mouth. "You're not gonna die on me before I get your fangs."
Alfred felt Arthur suddenly start licking at the blood around the wound. It tickled and Alfred had to fight to keep his arm still and to keep a straight face. Once he had lapped up the surrounding blood, Alfred felt a sudden pressure through his arm as Arthur began to suck. It was painful and unnatural and Alfred felt a need to stop it. He gasped and tried to pull away but, suddenly, strong hands were keeping his arm in place.
Deciding to bear with it for the moment, Alfred kept still once again, a pained expression on his face as he fought not to whimper. After a few minutes, this fight was lost when he began to feel nauseous. This seemed to break Arthur's concentration and he glanced up. Alfred gazed at him through bleary eyes and Arthur's bright green eyes widened. With a gasp he pulled away, letting Alfred's arm drop. The hunter staggered to the sink and began to bring up the remains of his earlier meal.
"God, I'm so sorry," breathed Arthur, perhaps on reflex. Alfred didn't reply, continuing to retch. He felt something take his arm and something was pressed against the cut. Hissing in pain, Alfred wanted to turn round, to snap at the vampire, but he gagged and leaned over the sink more. Water suddenly began to hit the mess within as the tap was turned on. Alfred glanced around, glaring at Arthur. "I told you," the vampire merely muttered, his mouth caked in blood, "I was hungry."
"Yeah, well," was all Alfred could say. What else was there to say? Finally, he straightened up, feeling light-headed.
"You should go to the hospital and get that looked at," said Arthur, rather bossily, nodding at the towel he was using to stem the blood flow.
"Nah. If I do, I have to explain why half my blood was sucked out of my body."
"It was hardly half," said Arthur, indignantly. "If it had been, you would no longer be conscious."
"Experienced in that, are ya?"
Arthur scowled at him. "Well, where do you keep your medical supplies?"
"In my bag, since I need to have them with me. But-"
"Sit down," Arthur ordered, gesturing at the chairs. With that, he exited the room, probably looking for the aforementioned bag. For a moment, Alfred was going to follow him. But his head was still feeling strange so he stumbled to the chair Arthur had been sitting in. When the vampire returned, he was clutching bandages, a bottle of alcohol, scissors and what appeared to be a needle. "Allow me," he said as he sat beside Alfred.
"Er, what's with the-" began Alfred but he cut himself off with a yell as Arthur poured alcohol on his wound. "What the fuck?!" he hissed through his pain.
"Oh, terribly sorry," said Arthur brightly. "I thought it would be best to clean it out. After all, that was what I was taught when I was training to be a doctor."
"You're a doctor?" Alfred managed weakly.
"Mm. Not any more. I'm a nurse at the moment."
"Huh," said Alfred, wincing as Arthur began to sew his wound together. He had done this many times before so the pain was the usual dull throb. "Never woulda thought."
"Most vampires are doctors or nurses – after all, where else would you be able to get hold of freely flowing blood."
Alfred nodded slightly, now not trusting himself to speak. He watched as Arthur's deft fingers quickly stitched up the wound. Finishing it off, he cut off the thread not needed and set the sharp objects aside. Both the vampire and the hunter surveyed the work done. Before Alfred could praise the work, Arthur suddenly moved his mouth closer and licked up the excess blood. Alfred stiffened in surprise. When the gentle tongue had finished its work, Arthur picked up the bandages and began to gently wrap it around his arm.
"That-" Alfred tried to say.
"So I'm stuck here until further notice?" asked Arthur, concentrating on the bandage.
"Uh... Well, yeah."
"And then you're going to kill me?"
"Yeah."
Arthur nodded as he tied the bandage tight. "Yes. Now, if you don't mind, I would like to take a shower. Which way is the bathroom?"
Studying Arthur's blood-soaked chin, Alfred grimaced and nodded. "It's the door closest to the front door."
"Marvellous," said his new room-mate. And, with that, Arthur left Alfred with a throbbing arm, a light head and a frown.
Yeah, um. I'm trying to make this different from most vampire stories as much as possible. So have a vampire without fangs.
Jeg trenger hjelp! = I need help!
The word Arthur begins to say after that but is cut off from completing is the start of the word "Hunter" in Norwegian. Cause Arthur knows a lot of languages. For reasons.
He also doesn't attack humans any more. For reasons.
And Alfred has his reasons for hunting vampires and collecting fangs.
When Alfred mentioned he'd get paid - that'll be explained by him next chapter.
Also, to clarify: The thing with Arthur drinking Alfred's blood is in no way romantic. It's painful for Alfred and it's just food for a starving and ill Arthur. (When he got attacked by the Hunter he was injured with silver which weakened him but didn't kill him cause it didn't pierce his heart. This is why he can't fight Alfred off but he does have enough energy to push him off at one point. He needs much more human blood to recover completely.)
In this story, everything that is traditionally thought to hurt vampires does- well, for the most part but that'll be explained later.
The reason I moved the action from the middle of nowhere to New York was mostly because I had thought of it as being in a city a while back and then accidentally started describing a Gothic house. Though it makes more sense that Arthur (and whoever else) would move to the country to be away from temptation. They may have stopped drinking human blood directly from attacked humans (mostly - they did the hunter who attacked Arthur a few days ago) but they could relapse at any time. Hence Arthur being a little reluctant to drink from Al. And his surprise when he realises he's drunk quite a bit.
I think there was a lot more I was gonna explain - then I realised I'm gonna do that in the story, anyways, so... If you do have any questions let me know.