A reminder of the story so far: It's set in London, autumn 1999 and plans are well advanced for the great vampire revelation, but not everyone in the vampire community is happy with these developments. In this story my version Sookie has used her telepathy to pursue her childhood ambition to become a spy. She has been drawn into the investigation into a series of murders, and as a result has met her first vampire, the poet John Keats. John needs Sookie's ability to recognise vampires and to resist their hypnotic power, if he is to thwart his own maker's plans.
The anticipation of seeing John again made it easy to block out the thoughts of people around me, so I made most of the journey to Highgate on the Underground. As the carriages shuddered their way through the dark tunnels I closed my eyes and imagined the feeling of his cool fingers stroking my skin.
My face must have given away more than I intended. As the carriages rattled more loudly, indicating that we were approaching a station, I glanced up to see an elderly lady sitting opposite me with an expression of sympathetic amusement on her face. The unexpected contact penetrated my mental shields. 'You enjoy it while you are young,' she was directing her thoughts straight at me as if she knew I would be able to understand them. 'I just hope he is worth it my dear, so few of them are.'
'I'm sorry,' I thought back at her.
'Don't be,' she replied, raising herself unsteadily out of her seat as the train came to a halt. 'You must use your powers though; you have more than you think.'
I half lifted myself out of my seat and reached out for her, but for a woman of her age she moved surprisingly fast and she was out of the doors and into the corridors before I was even standing. I considered running after her but it was too late. "Stand clear of the doors" the conductor's voice instructed.
The realisation that there were other people with my skill occupied my thoughts for the remainder of the journey. Every person I passed as I followed the road up from Archway tube station to the cemetery made me wonder. In future I would listen out more carefully to see if I could identify other telepaths. The old woman's comments about using my powers also perplexed me. Did she just mean telepathy or was she referring to something else?
There was still plenty of daylight, allowing me to find the private gate into the cemetery easily and to let myself in without being seen. It was a warm afternoon for September and there were a few visitors following their little printed guides around the headstones and mausoleums. I exchanged friendly smiles and stopped from time to time to examine an inscription, as if my purpose there was no different from theirs. Eventually the paths around John's mausoleum cleared, and I was able to let myself in. It didn't stop me wincing as the door creaked open, the rusty iron hinges complaining at being disturbed.
Once inside, I couldn't resist taking the opportunity to have a good look around. For a mausoleum in the middle of a cemetery it was remarkably clean. I tried to imagine him having a cleaner, some elderly Irish woman called Kathleen or Bernadette perhaps, who'd been persuaded by the power of fascination to come in once a week and 'do' for him.
I noticed many details which I'd missed before. One alcove housed a bookcase full of volumes of poetry. John had eclectic tastes, and I was interested to see that he had kept up with the modern world: Yeates, Larkin and Hughes all vied for space. I was amused to see that he had several biographies of himself which, from the state of their bindings, I could tell were well read. I imagined him getting angry as complete strangers picked apart his character and behaviour – I know I would have done.
In another corner was a writing desk. There was no sign of a typewriter, and with no electricity a computer was out of the question, but I was interested to see that he used an old fashioned fountain pen with a bottle of black ink. Sheets of paper were scattered haphazardly over the surface. His handwriting was quite awful. I could tell that it was poetry, but it looked as if it had been written by a spider which had dipped its legs in the ink. Try as I might; I could only decipher a few words.
It had got dark almost without me realising. I glimpsed a flash of movement out of the corner of my eye, but before I could turn around a pair of arms had slipped around my waist, and a cool mouth was nibbling my left earlobe. I shivered with pleasure and anticipation. He seemed to have found a direct connection from my ear down to somewhere much more sensitive.
"I hope you're not too cold," he enquired, pulling me in tighter as if that would warm me. I shook my head.
"Good, I have a woman who comes in; she's from an old family of Irish witches so I fascinated her to put a temperature spell on the room."
"She'll be called Bernadette, I suppose," I laughed, watching as he lit two oil lamps to give the room a golden glow.
"Doreen, actually," he replied looking at me as if I was ever so slightly deranged.
I shrugged, "Is she a real witch though, like in 'Harry Potter'?" I knew I wasn't the only adult who was addicted to the series of children's books and couldn't wait for the next instalment.
He shook his head, as if to indicate that I wouldn't understand. "There are so many things on this earth that humans know nothing of. I am surprised that you don't realise it."
I wanted to ask what he meant, but could sense the tension in the way he was holding me, and I knew he had things he needed to discuss.
"Later we can relax, but first we must talk." His voice was quiet and showed no emotion, not fear, or concern or even anticipation. That was what made me really nervous.
Wriggling free of his embrace, I crossed the room to one of the chaise longue and, plumping up the velvet cushions, made myself comfortable. John said nothing for several minutes. He seemed deep in thought, leaning against his writing desk with his back to me.
Eventually he turned round and began to walk towards me, then seemed to think better of it and turned in the opposite direction so he was looking out of, or maybe looking at one of the stained glass windows. I'd noticed it earlier; it depicted a female angel, dressed in armour, long auburn hair falling in tumbling waves down her back. She looked very familiar and I wondered what co-incidence had brought the reminder of John's former lover to his resting place.
"I wish I did not have to ask you to do this." He seemed to be speaking to himself as much as to me. "I mean it, Sookie," he turned and faced me. "I know you are brave, and resourceful, but the risk is very great."
"We both know there's no choice," I don't think my voice faltered, but he could probably sense how scared I really was. "But you really need to tell me everything."
Crossing the room with one of those disconcerting bursts of speed he was prone to, he sat next to me on the chaise, and I took the opportunity to snuggle in close as he began his story.
"My master, Appius Livius Ocella, is an ancient vampire. I believe he was made in the earliest days of Rome. He used to boast that his own master had been made by the very first vampire in ancient Egypt. If that is true then it was a cruel heritage. He believes that vampires are as superior to humans as you believe you are to the animals which you eat. He will do anything to stop us trying to live as equals amongst you."
"Okay, I get that, and I get that you want to use me as bait to draw him out," I tried not to sound bitter as I went over that plan in my head, "but then what?"
"At best, I hope he will bow to the authority of our king. He sets great store by the ancient traditions of our kind and obedience one of the few values he has."
I wondered what I would have found out if I could read his thoughts, but I had to ask him, "If that's the best, what's the worst?"
"We may at least scare him off. If he realises that many of us know that he has been responsible for these murders he will be forced to try a different tactic. We only need to force him back underground for a few months and it will be too late for him to stop the great revelation."
The whole plan sounded weak to me, but I tried not to be too critical. I had to assume that John understood vampire behaviour a whole lot better than I did, but even so I was worried that in his heart he was a poet, and that tackling evil wouldn't come naturally to him.
"So you think this Appius," I said his name slowly, testing it out, "Appius Livius Ocella , will come after me."
"I'm sure of it. He will know that I have an interest in you and that will be enough to draw him in. What he does not know is that you will not succumb to his fascination, you will be fully aware of everything he is doing."
That last comment made me shiver. "And when he does take me, you'll be waiting, you and King Edward and…"
John looked embarrassed, perhaps fearing that I doubted his plan, which to be fair, I did.
"There are others," he said, but didn't explain any further.
I would have felt a lot more confident if he'd given me some names. I lay back in his arms, soaking up the sensation of having someone hold me. Despite all my doubts, I was certain that he did care for me, and that I wasn't just being used for some higher vampire purpose. Where that certainty came from I had no idea. I could walk away, in theory, but I was willing to take the risk for this.
"What are you thinking?" he asked, ghosting feather-light kisses on my cheek and my neck.
"Truthfully?"
"Of course."
"I'm thinking that I must be quite crazy to get involved in your world, I should get up and walk away right now."
"But you won't." He sounded surprisingly certain.
"No; because I have a feeling that now I'm involved, there's no turning back."
John didn't answer which just served to confirm that what I'd said was right.
"So what happens next?"
"I thought perhaps we could go out,"
"Out," I repeated back at him, even though I knew it sounded silly, "you mean like a date?"
It was his turn to look puzzled; I guess the phrase was a bit too modern for him, or maybe too American
"I would like to spend time with you, to get to know you better. In my human life it was called courting, if that is what you mean."
"I guess so. Did you court many women, in your human life?" Maybe I was being too intrusive but I couldn't resist asking. I knew that his one great love had been the unfortunately-named Fanny Brawne, but I wondered if there had been many others.
"I only ever loved two women, in my human life, and since then only one. Perhaps it is my nature or my fate, but I have found that love only brings me pain."
There really was no response to that, so I said nothing. He was playing with strands of my hair, teasing them out gently with his fingers as if they were some delicate fabric. I reached up to stroke his face, and he turned me in his arms with a swift and effortless movement, so we were face to face. He held my gaze for a brief moment then leant in to kiss me.
My life would be a brief, forgettable episode, compared with his past and future existence, but even so the one thing I would never forget was the way he kissed me. His touch was tender at first, the coolness of his lips soon melting into mine. Then he began to explore my mouth, testing my responses, initially gentle but with increasing force and passion as I responded to him.
The ache I began to feel inside was already familiar to me even after only one night together. It didn't take much for me to lose control of my own body as I began to move my hips over his. The response was immediate and powerful. His hands moved down from my shoulders and found my thighs, pushing my skirt up to my waist. He was on his way to my underwear so I lifted myself up to remove that final barrier before he could rip it off. I didn't fancy walking knicker-less around the streets.
His fingers were quick to find all the right spots to make me moan with delight. I let my head fall back and soaked up the waves of pleasure as they washed over me until they crested and I cried out loudly. My eyes were still closed as he turned his attention to removing the rest of my clothes, which he managed with his usual dexterity. The room seemed to get warmer, and I wondered if that was part of Doreen's spell. If it was, I mentally thanked her for it.
I needed to see him naked too, but my hands were clumsy as I tugged at the buckle of his belt and pulled at his linen shirt. He didn't seem to mind though. The expression on his face was one of pure pleasure as he let me have my way with him. I loved the shimmer of his skin and the tautness of the muscle underneath it. The ravages of illness in his human life were still visible with small scars and marks on his slightly built frame, but even so the underlying power and strength were undeniable.
Perhaps it was that combination which made him so attractive to me; a hint of fragility disguising his true nature, and everything he might be capable of.
I didn't think too hard about the reason, as I set off on my own journey of exploration, tracing the contours of his chest with my kisses. I had the satisfaction of hearing his desire rumbling in his chest as I trailed lower, down to the curls of dark hair in his groin. He was already hard, and seemed to me disproportionately large – not that I had anything to compare with - apart from some of Julian's gay fantasies which I'd glimpsed briefly when my shields were down.
Tentatively I ran my tongue along his length, not quite sure what to expect. He had a faint salty tang which was not at all unpleasant. Feeling bold, I glanced up at him, as if asking permission. His eyes seemed almost black in their intensity, gazing down at me under hooded eyelids. He took my head in his hands and guided me into place, moving me slowly to demonstrate the rhythm he liked.
My instincts quickly took over and I increased my pace, my fingers digging into his perfect behind to pull him closer. Despite his size I was able to accommodate him, and the growls of pleasure indicated that whatever I was doing was just about right as far as he was concerned. His groans became faster and more urgent and I knew that he was close to completion. Breathing in through my nose, I used my tongue and my lips for one final pull, then let him release deep into my throat.
He shuddered with pleasure, then, hooking his hands under my arms, pulled me up to meet him in another kiss. I didn't need to ask if I'd been alright, his kiss told me everything I needed to know. As our bodies moved slowly against each other, I could feel that he was ready again. I gave a little tug on his arm to indicate what I wanted, and he responded as I'd hoped by flipping me onto my back. In an instant, my legs were wrapped tightly around him and he was inside me. There was no holding back as his powerful thrusts filled me, driving every rational thought from my mind.
Instinctively I knew that he wanted to bite me. The odd thing was, I really wanted him to do it. I arched my neck to give him access. His fangs were already fully extended, that seemed to happen as soon as he became aroused. There was a brief sharp sting as he broke my skin, but the pain soon gave way to pleasure as he sucked on my artery. He carried on for a long time, until I began to feel dizzy. He must have sensed that as he pulled away quite suddenly, his whole body becoming still, even though he was buried deep inside me.
"Drink from me Sookie," he whispered with a look of concern. "Take my blood and we will be bound together always."
Afterwards I wondered what instinct had made me agree, but at that moment I nodded my acceptance without a second thought. He bit into his own wrist and held the gaping wound to me mouth. As I sucked he began to move again, harder and faster as if every pull I took was increasing his desire.
We came together, more strongly than before. Everything went black, illuminated only by flashes of golden light, as he pulled his wrist away from my mouth and hugged me so tightly I was worried he might break me in two.
Afterwards I lay in his arms, feeling oddly warm and fuzzy inside. I couldn't imagine a more perfect moment, despite the unconventional setting, and the even more unconventional end to our love-making.
"So do you want to go out, or shall we just stay here and make love all night?" John's voice was low and seductive, making his offer very tempting.
I considered for a few minutes before answering. Despite my new-found passion for raw and primal sex, the idea of going out into the world as if we were a normal couple appealed to me. I had one concern though. "Do you think it will be safe, what if your Master finds us?"
"I do not think that even he would be so brazen, not while you are with me and in a public place."
Okay, I thought, let's just hope you're right about that.
I found a tissue in my handbag and managed to clean myself up while John was dressing. Most humans weren't blessed with the vampire's acute sense of smell, but I didn't want to go out smelling quite so strongly of sex. Even if they didn't notice that, the trails of dried blood would certainly attract attention. I had a hairbrush and some lipstick in my bag as well, so it didn't take long to look reasonably presentable.
John led me out through the dark footpaths of the cemetery, and into the streets of the old village centre. The Victorian street lights, retained for historic effect, weren't a lot brighter but I hooked my arm through his and let him guide me. He'd explained that we were going to the Spaniards Inn, although he still referred to it as the tavern, which made me smile.
"I used to come here in my human life. It was very different then, none of this…" he gestured at the juke-box and the fruit machine in one corner. "Just a serving hatch and a few old wooden tables. The garden was delightful though, I would sit out there sometimes, in the sun, and write."
"I wonder how the beer compares," I asked, then blushed at my tactlessness. I guess he would never know.
For the briefest moment he looked incredibly sad, but the expression soon passed. "I lost the craving for human food and drink when I became vampire. I would no more consider tasting it than you would eat excrement."
Euch, I wrinkled my nose up at the thought. He certainly knew how to put a girl off her drink.
To my surprise he extracted a wallet from him pocket, and pulled out a £10 note. That was another thing to be curious about; how did someone who lived in the shadows as he did have access to modern money. I filed it away with the long list of questions I would ask when the time was right.
He bought a bottle of red wine, and two glasses. He poured a large one for me, and a small one for himself. Every now and then he would pick it up and swirl it round, so that anyone who was watching would think he was drinking.
"This is nice," he mused, "being out in the world with you, as if we were a normal couple."
That was what I had thought, I told him, which made him smile. "There's no reason why we can't be, I guess," I continued. "It will be a bit difficult, especially as I'm due back at work in a few days, but I can ask for assignments that don't need early morning starts. There are cellars in the Palace Mews, perhaps you could make somewhere safe to rest." I realised I was gabbling, and perhaps I was rushing things, although considering I'd been willing to drink his blood it seemed reasonable to expect him to be willing to stay at my place.
John seemed pleased. "Yes, that would be possible. I would like that. In fact…" He stopped mid-sentence, his whole body tensing up, "Sookie, we have to get out of here, now."
I was about to point out that I hadn't finished my drink but one look at his face made it clear that was the least of my worries. I shuffled along the bench, only to find my way blocked by a short figure, his face hidden by a wide-brimmed hat.
"Leaving so soon, I was hoping to be introduced." The stranger didn't raise his head, and his voice was low, but there was no doubt he was talking to us.
I gave a nervous giggle. The stranger had the worst cockney accent I'd heard since Dick Van Dyke in 'Mary Poppins'. Behind me I heard John hiss, whether in anger or frustration I couldn't tell.
The man didn't move, but as he raised his head I caught a glimpse of his eyes. They were blood-red and although I couldn't hear his thoughts I had the sensation of pure evil. I realised who he was at about exactly the same moment as he spoke again, addressing John this time.
"As your maker, I command you to release her to me." He'd dropped the mockney accent now, replacing it with pure menace. Slowly John released the tight grip he had on my hand. That was the point when I realised that I was in big trouble. I glanced back at him, but he didn't seem to see me, he just stared blankly ahead.
"Appius Livius Ocella," I spoke his name slowly and carefully, forcing myself to meet the gaze of those terrifying eyes.
John didn't react at all, he seemed quite immobile, as if his master had put him under some kind of spell. Meanwhile the ancient vampire was holding out his hand to me. I felt a faint tingle, and was unable to stop myself from responding. His cold hard fingers closed tightly around mine, and suddenly we were gone.
I think I must have fainted. Certainly everything went black, and I'm not sure anyone could have moved quite so quickly that I couldn't follow the surrounding. All I knew was that I was in a sparsely furnished, window-less room. It contained one, surprisingly comfortable, armchair and that's where I was sitting while a tall and menacing figure paced around; sometimes as slow as a cat stalking its prey, then moving faster than my brain could process. He was doing it to disorientate me, I knew that much about interrogation techniques.
"So, John is considering making another child, is he? I wonder what is so special about you my dear, that he is willing to go against my very specific orders."
I tried to focus on his accent, working out where he was from, as an alternative to collapsing in a panic. Studying accents and speech patterns had become a speciality of mine; his had a hint of his Italian origins, but was not a modern voice. I watched his mouth move, his teeth narrow, and pointed, one or two capped with gold.
"I can assure you I have no intention of become a vampire any time soon," I countered, trying to keep my voice from shaking.
"That may not be within your control," he hissed menacingly.
A/N –I originally had a different idea for who John's makes should be, but FiniteAnarchy suggested that the murderous master vampire should be Eric's maker Appius, and that works really well for a later plot development, so thanks so much for the idea.
Apologies for the delay if you were following this story – a combination of holidays and work pressures have meant the remaining chapters took longer than I planned, but I am hoping to post them more regularly now.
