We know who made Cutler but what made him? How did he end up with such a burning desire to be the history maker?

it's now 1962 and Hal is gone. Cutler is still trying to find his own way but a chance encounter brings tragedy and maybe hope...


Hatred is the madness of the heart...

1962

"Because I say so."

Cutler would have liked to have said a lot more but he wasn't sure he could keep his voice even. He looked straight at Fergus and kept quiet, refusing to look away even when the older vampire sneered at him.

"Because you say so? Who the hell do you think you are?"

Fergus leapt up and leaned over Cutler's desk, reaching out a hand to take him by the throat, but Cutler didn't move, even though his body was crying out to back away from the menace and the threat.

"I think I'm the man who will keep you out of jail."

Fergus didn't move for a moment as he took this in and then he sat down again. He still looked at Cutler as though he was something he'd brought in on his shoe but at least – at last - he was going to listen.

Cutler sat back, made himself comfortable and crossed his legs, looking over his steepled fingers at Fergus as if he had never been belittled by the other man. It was in stark contrast to how he felt inside but he had to keep up the pretence of confidence. One day it might even become real.

"I would say I can keep you alive, but frankly, that's a little irrelevant. What I can do is make sure you don't have to explain how you survive the drop."

He smiled, seeing Fergus' eyes narrow in irritation.

"Much as I'd like to hear it."

He went on to tell Fergus how he would deal with the unfortunate situation he had got himself into – a kill had gone badly wrong and the attempted cover up had just made things worse. The press had got hold of the details and the story of a pretty girl, tempted into sinful behaviour and bad company before her body was found, naked and mutilated, had stoked up public indignation. Someone was going to hang.

Fergus hated having to take advice – especially from Cutler – but he had little choice. He agreed to lay low for a while, to move away somewhere where Cutler could keep tabs on him while he 'tidied up'. He got up to leave but couldn't resist one last crack.

"You wouldn't be pushing me around if Hal were here."

"No I wouldn't" agreed Cutler. "You wouldn't have been so bloody stupid if Hal were here."

Fergus slammed the door and Cutler slumped in his chair. Keeping up the air of confidence and superiority with men like Fergus was exhausting – he had no doubts about how the other vampires saw him and he had to look the part or anything might happen to him. He reached over to the drinks cabinet beside his desk and poured a glass from the decanter, drinking it back in one go. The blood helped. It wasn't the same as living blood but it stopped the shakes and the worst of the cravings and as long as he was useful they would keep him supplied. He wanted another drink, he wanted more every day but he was determined to rule the compulsion. He compromised on half a glass more and closed the cabinet.

He pulled the folder of papers towards him and wrote a few notes about what he had instructed Fergus to do and what he would do himself. It was simple really; unethical, illegal and immoral of course, but simple. Money talks so witnesses don't and if police records go astray and coroners change their minds... well, it happens.

He unlocked a drawer and slotted the folder into place. Record keeping was a human habit, one he could forgo nowadays especially as he'd always had a photographic memory – something that made him smile. It was the only photographic thing about him. He liked to keep notes though, records, incriminating evidence – who knows when it might be useful. It was his only form of power.

This was the first file he had on Fergus. He'd been under Hal's tutelage for so many years that he'd never needed anyone else's help before. But Hal had been gone for seven years, killed – staked or poisoned, no one knew which - by a werewolf who had escaped from the cellars just before the full moon. His chains had been pulled free from the wall and on the stairs they'd found Hal's evening suit and an empty champagne bottle but despite all their efforts they had never found the werewolf.

The group that Hal had controlled so tightly was fragmenting without him and Fergus' plight was a symptom of that. It was a measure of Hal's power and control that it had stayed stable this long but his memory wasn't going to keep things together much longer. Cutler was starting to realise he should be planning his own next move.

Hal had set him up in this office, his own practice, when he first recruited him. He couldn't stay with his old firm, especially after Rachel died. He couldn't stand the sympathy and the pitying looks about her 'accident' when he knew the truth of what had happened to her. Her parents had hidden away in their grief and he'd lost touch with his own family long ago, he didn't think they even knew they'd moved to London after he qualified. It made sense to make a fresh start and Hal had set it all up, giving him very clear instructions on what his work was to be now. He worked for any vampires who needed his expertise but he did what Hal told him to.

Being the lawyer of choice for vampires had never been onerous and occasionally humans had seen the brass plate and wandered in seeking advice and if he could he had always helped. He looked around the comfortable office – the wood panelling and the window overlooking the park, it was nothing that could be suspected of being other than what he purported to be. A young yet successful solicitor, his certificates on the wall and his wedding photograph on his desk. His files were carefully locked away and there was a second cabinet from which he could pour a favoured client a glass of brandy.

Cutler had had five years with Hal and they'd been years of heaven and hell – Hal had been cold and cruel, vicious beyond human imagination and it had amused him to break Cutler apart, piece by piece until he was utterly destroyed. He had become entirely dependent on Hal, on his attention, the blood he provided, even on the cruelty and the pain.

He hated him.

He loved him.

He needed him.

Once he was sure that everything human left in Cutler had been eradicated Hal changed. He no longer expected him to hunt with him. He stopped ridiculing him for being satisfied with blood provided by others and even made sure that he had all the supplies he needed. He no longer tried to force him to kill, even though Cutler's initial revulsion had dulled a little. He still saw Rachel in every dead and dying face and that searing pain was all he had left of the man he used to be. It was the one thing that Hal couldn't destroy so he chose to ignore it.

Hal had become the best friend that Cutler could ever have. He gave him confidence, a business, knowledge and money. And all the time Cutler was waiting for the torture to continue. He waited for two years for the pain to begin again, expecting – almost anticipating – the agony and then Hal was gone. Since then he had had to find his own way, in a world that no longer had his friend and his tormentor, his creator, in it.


The night he met Hal shouldn't have been any different to so many other nights. Busy with petty criminals, looking out for the challenging cases, grateful to the police officers who tipped him off about the best ones. His services were in ever greater demand, he was known for being clever and quick and people were starting to ask for him. 'That Nick Cutler, he'll sort me out' was something the police were getting used to hearing. He had more work than he could handle and the others were grateful for the files he passed to them.

It had been a long day, he was tired and wanted to get home to Rachel when he was asked to see one last client, a non-negotiable client apparently and it was easier to get it over with than to argue. The dapper man, sitting so precisely on the edge of the bunk wasn't what he expected but he had no time to process his first impressions as Mr Yorke kept talking, slowly, precisely – almost seductively.

He remembered the cell door clanging shut, a blur of movement and then a pain so intense, so deep it was almost exquisite. He remembered hearing screams, wondering at the agony causing such pitiful sounds, then realising that the screams were his. He remembered seeing his papers drift leisurely to the floor, as his heart slowed and stumbled. In the eternity between heartbeats he felt a warm liquid on his mouth, dripping slowly down his throat. He remembered the taste as he drifted into blackness.

He woke – no, he was flung into consciousness - no idea where he was or how much time had passed, his mind full of images of horror, scrambling to get to his feet. His first words were for Rachel and he felt a cold hand on his shoulder and heard mirthless laughter.

"Are you always in such a hurry Mr Cutler?"

His eyes were clearing and he looked around, he was lying on a mattress in what looked like a cellar. It was gloomy but he recognised the figure standing beside him as the mysterious Mr Yorke.

"Where..." His voice sounded odd, his throat was sore and he coughed and started again. "Where am I?"

"I'll come to that." Hal handed him a glass. "This will help"

Cutler looked at it, the liquid was opaque, dark, but the room was too badly lit see what it was.

"Just drink it."

Hal's voice was firm and it was quite clear he expected to be obeyed so Cutler swallowed the contents. It tasted like nothing he'd ever had before and it made him feel well instantly – better than well, alive in a way he had never known possible.

"Your wife believes you are away on business, I made sure she was reassured."

Hal dropped Cutler's jacket and tie on the mattress and obediently Cutler started to tidy himself up. His shirt was crumpled but he did his best.

"Rachel." Hal's tone was cool but there was something about the way he said the name, something under the words.

"She's very beautiful. Edible, one might say"


Cutler realised he'd been staring at his and Rachel's photograph, twisting the wedding ring he still wore, for a long time. The room was dark and he switched on the desk lamp, picking up the photo frame and polishing away a few smudges on the glass.

The hours he'd spent listening to Hal in that cellar, trying to process what had happened to him were still vivid – as was the blood that Hal had made him drink, a glass every thirty minutes to reinforce the cravings he was already feeling. He had woken quickly; there had been no time to set up the death of human Nick Cutler, to enable him to start over so for the moment Hal had allowed him to return to his old human life. To Rachel. At the time it had seemed like a kindness but it was far from that.

Without conscious though Cutler reached into the desk drawer for the worn brown envelope tucked at the back. It was grubby with handling, the top slightly torn and after he pulled out the papers it contained he threw it away, getting a new one from the cupboard.

He spread out the faded forms. He didn't need to read them, every word was engraved in his memory but he wanted to feel the pain. The reports on Rachel's death were as brutal as ever. He hadn't known what Hal had done with her body, hadn't wanted to know but he'd thought she would just disappear as so many others had. When the police arrived at their house he was scared, when they asked him to identify her body he was horrified. Conveniently Hal was nowhere to be found so he had to go along with the human rituals.

The inquest ruled it was suicide and it was only because Cutler had been 'away on business' that he wasn't charged with assisting her. Her body had been found by a railway line which explained the horrendous injuries, and the blame was placed on her depression over being unable to have children. It was concluded that she had concealed her true feelings from her husband and her family but it had finally become too much to bear. Quite how Hal had set this up, how he had uncovered their most private pain Cutler never knew but his grief and his tears for his beautiful wife were real, despite the sneers of the vampires. He knew they had kept nothing from each other, although it turned out that there was a secret, one that he only discovered when it was too late.

He turned the forms to the very last page and read the final notation.

Rachel had been pregnant.

She probably hadn't known.

There was a tap on the door and his secretary came in as he quickly gathered up the papers.

"I'm off now Mr Cutler. Unless you need anything else?"

"No I'm fine, thank you." He smiled at her and made her blush. "Have a pleasant weekend."

She was a sweet girl, not too young but naive, not likely to start asking awkward questions. He knew she found him attractive – he could hear her heart beat faster when he was close to her. He had to have a secretary, in his position it would have looked odd not to and in many ways he liked the temptation. Resisting the call of her blood every day helped him manage his needs. This one was new and he had to think for a moment to recall her name. He changed his staff often, it helped maintain his fictions and it would never do to have people start to comment on how he never changed, never aged.

She lingered in the doorway, he could tell she was nervous, her pulse was fast and he could smell the blood under the fresh spray of L'Aimant. She'd redone her pale pink lipstick as well.

"Was there something else Linda?"

"Well..." She paused, took a deep breath and then hurried on. "It's my birthday and I wondered if you'd like to join me and my friends for a drink?" She was bright red and clearly having second thoughts about asking. "You don't have to, really, I'm sure your wife is waiting for you"

"My wife died a long time ago." He hadn't intended to say it and he cut through her apologies. "I'd like that very much. I have a few things to finish; may I join you in half an hour?"

She told him where they were going and rushed out, scared and thrilled that she'd managed to ask him after her friends had dared her to.

He watched the door close behind her, wondering why he had said he would go. He never socialised with his staff and only occasionally with his legal colleagues. It was easier to be seen a loner than to keep explaining all the anomalies in his life. He had some company among the other vampires and they had their own drinking dens but he didn't really fit in there either.

He put the documents away, his wedding ring catching the light as he locked the drawer. He pulled at it; he'd never taken it off before, not since Rachel had put it on his finger and it was not going to shift. It wasn't time yet. He walked over to the window – he had lied to Linda, he had nothing to finish but he needed to think. Maybe he wouldn't go, after all she'd never ask him why, she wouldn't dare.

It might be dangerous; he could feel the need for blood gnawing at him, the usual craving that he worked so hard to control. It was the main reason he avoided people but there were times he wanted company and the effort of control and resistance was the price he paid. He drank a glass to dull the immediate need – it was the last he had - and put the decanter away. He knew it would be full again in the morning, he never asked how or who, it was easier not to know.

He would buy his secretary a birthday drink. Of course he would. It was how normal people, humans, behaved after all.

Linda and her friends were sat in the lounge bar of the hotel by the park. Not a pub, they were nice girls, innocent despite their fashionable clothes. She introduced him to Rita and Dawn and he smiled and shook hands and insisted they call him Nick. Linda wouldn't, she blushed again and said she had to stick with Mr Cutler or she'd forget at work. He bought them champagne and was content to sit quietly with his glass of whisky, listening to them chatter, the sound of their blood underpinning the conversation.

A movement caught his eye and he watched a young women walk into the room, pausing to look around. She was striking – her shift dress and high heels the height of fashion and her skirt daringly short. She drew the eye of everyone in the room with her confidant stride and her long shiny black hair, a peacock in the hen house. Cutler couldn't look away – he wasn't sure why but something about her called to him and he was startled when she looked straight back at him and walked over to their table.

Before he could speak – luckily – Linda jumped up and hugged her while Dawn and Rita greeted her with slightly less enthusiasm.

"Mr Cutler, this is my friend Virginia." Linda put her arm round the newcomer and drew her over to Cutler who stood up.

"I'm very pleased to meet you" he offered his hand as she looked up at him. She wasn't as tall as he had thought, in her heels her head came just to his shoulder.

"So, finally, the mysterious Mr Cutler!" She took his hand and held it just a little too long, appraising him quite openly. "Now I know what Linda has been on about"

She grinned at him; reading his reaction to her on his face and sat down, waving to the waiter who pretended he hadn't seen her.

"Damn the man. Nick, please get me a drink, clearly I'm the wrong sex to ask for gin in public." She opened her bag, rummaging fruitlessly inside. "Oh and cigarettes too. Must have left mine at home. And do call me Gina. I find Virginia a singularly inappropriate label."

Cutler felt as he'd been swept up in a tornado. Linda and her friends were still talking, they were used to Gina's ways and the effect she had on people and Cutler was quite used to hiding his feelings. Not from Gina though, something told him that she knew exactly what he was thinking, well, most of it anyway.

He beckoned the waiter and ordered more drinks, another bottle of champagne and gin for Gina as requested. She sat beside him, not quite touching him but he could feel the heat of her skin, was conscious of her every move. She leaned over, talking to Linda, teasing her and laughing at shared jokes and Cutler watched her. Her bracelets hid the pulse beating in her wrist but he could hear it, he could almost feel her blood flowing and it called to him louder than anything he'd ever heard before, drowning out the heartbeats of the other girls. He sipped his whiskey; lost in the thoughts of what it would taste like.

He jumped as a hand settled on his arm.

"Penny for your thoughts." Gina was smiling at him "You were miles away"

Linda and her friends were gathering their coats and bags, getting ready to go; he had no idea how long he'd been lost in his own thoughts.

"My bus goes soon Mr Cutler" Linda was pink and giggly from the champagne "My parents worry if I'm out too late"

He helped her on with her coat and before she could back away gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Happy birthday Linda. Thank you for inviting me." She blushed about as red as he'd ever seen and in a flurry of goodbyes she was gone, Rita and Dawn too.

He sat down again next to Gina, thinking that he had probably better leave too. She held up an unlit cigarette and he picked up his lighter and lit it for her, her hand closing over his to hold the flame steady. She looked straight at him, her eyes dark and direct.

"Don't even think of leaving; not now I have you all to myself." She grinned and let his hand go. "Anyway, I'll never get another drink if you're not here"

Despite himself he smiled and ordered again – the waiter really did not approve of Gina and she didn't help by winking at him, crossing her legs when he served her, showing off an unseemly length of thigh. Cutler couldn't help laughing with her at the man's outraged face and it made him realise how rare it was that he laughed with anyone. This was dangerous territory, he could resist when there were other people to distract him but now it was just Gina and there was something about her, something beyond her blood. She seemed different, an outsider, just as he was. She couldn't be less like Rachel – and he realised that he hadn't thought of his wife since Gina walked it and it shook him. Normally every woman he saw was weighed against her and found wanting.

He lit a cigarette for himself, a distraction, but when he put the pack back down on the table Gina caught hold of his hand, looking at his wedding ring.

"Where does your wife think you are?"

"My wife died." Twice in one day he had admitted it out loud. Maybe it was getting easier. Gina squeezed his hand, her fingers warm on his cold skin.

"I'm sorry. Was it recent?"

"It was a long time ago"

Her eyebrows drew together as she frowned; she looked looked at him as though she was reassessing him, changing her conclusions.

"You must have married very young" was all she said and this time she left her hand over his.

They sat in silence for a moment or two and then Cutler turned his hand to hold hers and was rewarded by a radiant – albeit slightly triumphant - smile. They chatted about all kinds of things as they finished their drinks, about films and books they both liked and two or three times he saw that tiny frown appear again. When their glasses were empty and without discussing it they both stood and he helped her into her coat and they walked out together, no idea where they were headed. Once outside she linked her arm through his, walking close to him and trying to match her stride to his, realising that her heels made it impossible and making him slow to her pace.

"Where shall we go?" He asked her and she laughed, letting go of his arm and spinning round under the streetlight.

"Anywhere! Everywhere!"

He laughed at her pleasure in life, something he had lost so long ago and caught hold of her as she stumbled. She came into his arms so naturally it was only when she reached up and kissed him, lightly at first and then harder that he realised what was happening. He knew he should let her go and walk away, but it felt so right that he pulled her even closer, lost in the moment, his fingers on her pulse and the sound of her heart filling his head.

Then a scream echoed off the buildings and a voice, the words unintelligible but the tone desperate, begging. Gina pulled away, her face horrified, looking for the source of the sound.

"That's Linda." She was running towards it and Cutler had to hurry to catch her as she started down a dark alleyway with no thought of her own safety. There was a dim light at the other end, but Cutler's night vision was much sharper than any human's and he could already see Linda, a hand over her mouth, eyes wide and terrified, blood running down her neck. Fergus was holding her and he was grinning as he looked Gina up and down.

"Well well Mr Cutler." His tone was full of contempt. "I see you've been busy. Maybe you don't want this one now you've found a a new tart."

He ran his other hand over Linda's body as she struggled to get away, her fingers clawing helplessly at the hand over her bloody throat.

"I never knew you had it in you. Whatever would Rachel say?"

He pulled Linda's hair, tipping her head back and showing Cutler and Gina how deeply her neck was torn, his eyes flashing black as he bent and drove his fangs into the wounds, shaking his head so he could tear her skin even further. Linda tried to scream but she was getting weaker and Fergus lifted his head, blood running down his chin.

Cutler heard Gina gasp in horror but she still tried to go to Linda to help her and he admired her bravery as he caught hold of her arm. He stopped her, dreading what Fergus might do to her and she stood still, looking between Cutler, Fergus and Linda, unable to process what she was seeing. Fergus let Linda's body fall and she moaned, too weak to move.

"You want me out of town? I'll go when I'm ready." Fergus wiped his face with his sleeve and started to walk away. "You can clear this up as well, two for the price of one."

He laughed as he left and Cutler knelt over Linda, turning her head to look at her neck. There was no way she would recover and he could see that she was going to die slowly and in pain. He could smell her blood, it was staining his hands and he started to shake.

He felt hands on his shoulders and Gina knelt down beside him, mindless of the filthy ground and cradled Linda's head on her lap, stroking her face and talking to her, murmuring soothing nonsense. She looked at Cutler, her eyes told him what she needed to know and he shook his head.

"Do what you have to." Gina's voice was soft. "I don't pretend to understand what is happening but I know you won't let her suffer."

"I can't" Cutler whispered. "I can't kill her"

Gina reached out and took his hand, feeling how much he was trembling and the stickiness of Linda's blood on their skin.

"You must. She isn't going to recover and I can't bear to see her like this."

Her voice was firmer and he looked again at Linda – at the agony contorting her face, the blood running from her neck and he felt his eyes change. Gina took a ragged breath as she looked at him but she kept hold of his hand and she watched as he put his mouth to the deep tears. As soon as he tasted the blood he was lost and although he tried to be gentle he bit deep into the wounds, drawing out the last of her blood and feeling her heart shudder to a halt.

He pulled away from Linda's body, breaking Gina's hold on his hand and staggered over to the wall, leaning on it for support as the ecstasy of living blood flowed through him chased by the revulsion for what he'd done. He retched and coughed, finally straightening up and turning, expecting to see Gina gone. Instead she was close to him and she put her arms around him, leaning her head on his chest.

"Thank you." Her voice was barely a whisper. "What happens now?"

He pushed her away gently, much as he wanted to stay with her she had to go.

"I need to make a call. You should go, get away from me. You won't see me again"

"Tell me what you are first. What he was. I need to know"

"I'm a vampire"

He didn't wait for a reply but walked quickly out of the alley to the phone box on the next corner. Sorting through coins he found the right change and made a call, saying only the address and then putting the receiver down. He smoked a cigarette before going back, giving Gina time to run but when he got close he saw she was still there. She had straightened Linda's body, smoothed her hair and closed her eyes and now she was brushing down her own clothes.

"I told you to go"

"Yes. I know you did. I want to be sure she'll be taken care of."

He took her arm and drew her out of the alley and across the road when they could wait in the shadows. They stood silently, side by side until a small van drew up and two men got out. Linda's body was carefully loaded into the back and the van drove slowly away. Gina let out a long breath as it turned the corner out of sight.

"Come with me." Her tone was brisk and she started walking, assuming he would follow. They walked, still silent and separate for a few minutes until she lead him to a terrace of houses, small but stately, grandeur on a miniature scale. She walked up the steps to the first house, unlocked the door and walked in. He watched as she switched on lamps, hung up her coat and kicked off her shoes. He stayed outside and she turned to him, eyebrows raised.

"You have to invite me in"

"Why?"

"I don't know why, you just do." He paused; he didn't want to hide anything from her any more. "But you must be sure. Once you've invited me its forever. You can't take it back." She shrugged.

"It's a bit late for second thoughts don't you think?"

She looked at Cutler, her eyes dark and thoughtful, for what seemed to him like an eternity.

"Come in."

He walked over the threshold, stopping before he got too close to her, scarcely believing that she hadn't run, that she wasn't scared of him. Maybe this was the change he needed, the new start he'd dreamed off. Hal had told him he had to find his own way, maybe this was it.

She reached out her hand and he took it, seeing the dried blood on their fingers. As he took a step closer he heard her gasp.

"Oh God"

She was looking over his shoulder and he turned to see a large gilt framed mirror – the hallway perfectly reflected with Gina in the centre. She lifted her other hand, running it down his face, resting it on his chest, watching her reflection touching an empty space. For the first time her eyes were uncertain and she bit her lip, frowning as she looked in the mirror.

It was the start of the fear and he didn't want to be the cause of any more pain, he pulled away and had his hand on the door latch when she spoke.

"Don't even think about it Nick Cutler."

She managed a smile although it was a little crooked.

"Don't you dare walk out on me now."