Disclaimer: All characters from the TV series obviously belong to Toby Whithouse and the BBC
Author's note:Thanks for the reviews and feedback. It's really helpful to hear what you think about things so far and what's to come, so please keep them coming!
The squire watched from across the street as Yorke hammered at the door. Fraser seemed to be onto something with his suspicions. Up until now he had never seen Yorke look anything less than in complete control, the man before him was visibly shaken. He wouldn't have managed to follow them all this way without being noticed if Yorke was in his normal state of mind. Even in the dead of night.
The door finally opened and the vampire went inside followed by the girl. The door was promptly slammed shut behind them. Whatever Yorke was hiding was in that house, he was sure of it. He pulled his cap down over his eyes to conceal his face and set off to find a vantage point on the street where he could see the house's comings and goings without being noticed. He found himself a bench in the shadow of some trees just down the street and began his watch. Hopefully by the time Fraser returned he'd have something tangible to report.
Sarah closed her eyes even though she knew it wouldn't bring her sleep. With her eyes shut she could pretend, even for a fleeting moment, that she was somewhere else. Back at the convent, back at her childhood home playing games out on the dirt road with Rebecca. Finally, giving in to the glow of the morning sun, she opened her eyes and let reality back in.
She wished the vampire would answer the bloody door already. The incessant pounding was making her head ache even more than it already did. Finally it stopped, she breathed a sigh of relief. She wondered if they would come and check on her today. Maybe they would just get bored of her, leave her alone up here until the full moon, the prospect of which was hanging over her like an axe waiting to fall. That was the problem with all these days spent alone: too much time to think.
The door swung open and there he stood.
For a brief moment she wondered if the lack of food and sleep were making her hallucinate. But no. She wouldn't imagine him looking like this. He was dressed in the in the finest clothing she had ever seen, opulent silks and velvets. He looked for more at home in them than he ever had in the labourer's clothing he'd worn during their years together. Even without a wig to cover his dishevelled hair he looked every inch the aristocrat, right down to the air of superiority that now seemed to hang over him.
'Hal' her voice was barely a whisper.
'I didn't think I'd ever see you again.' It was as though he'd seen a ghost.
'Well that was your choice. You walked out for some fresh air and you never came back.' She chastised, finding that fury was overwhelming any sense of shock or sentimentality.
'I left before I could hurt you.' He was making every effort not to meet his old friend's eyes.
'Bollocks. If you had told me you were struggling I would have helped you. Like I did all the other times. You gave up, you stopped trying to fight it.'
She studied his face, he was different somehow. He looked less tired, more assured in spite of his obvious discomfort at her presence. He held himself with an ease that was unfamiliar to her. He looked well, better than she'd ever seen him and that could only mean one thing.
'You're drinking blood again.'
'Why bother fighting a battle that you can never win?'
'Maybe because it's better than being a fucking murderer.'
'The life we had was a fiction. It was never going to last. It wasn't real.'
She shook her head in disbelief. 'So I spent eight years of my life enabling your little fantasy?' her mouth contorted with distaste. 'At the expense of making a life for myself, falling in love, having a family!'
'Don't get hysterical Sarah, it doesn't become you.'
'I'm not like you Hal! My life isn't going to last for hundreds of years. Judging by my run of luck so far, it probably isn't going to last long at all. So I'm allowed to get upset when I'm told that I've wasted a good portion of the time I do have trying to help you when you clearly never believed it would never last!'
'You honestly believed I could be changed?' she wasn't sure if it was a question or a statement of fact.
'Clearly I was an idiot.' Came the sharp response.
He didn't disagree.
'So this is who you are now then?'
'This is who I've always been.' His voice was level and unreadable. 'You shouldn't be here.'
'Locked up in some vampire's house? No, I shouldn't.'
'My friends thought that they were doing me a favour.'
'Your friends? Her mind darted back to the evening before, her conversation with the vampire, A good friend of mine knew a wolf once…that bitch would be the last thing my friend needs right now.
'You're lucky that it was Lewis who picked you up from those dealers. It could have been a lot worse for you.'
'He knew who I was all along then?'
'I think he suspected. How the fuck did you let yourself get caught by vampires? I told you how to protect yourself.'
'I didn't let myself get caught.' She spat. 'I woke up naked in a strange part of the woods after a transformation to find myself being chased by them. Running seemed like a safer bet at the time than standing my ground spouting bible verses.' She exhaled in frustration. 'So are you just going to keep me locked up like some kind of animal? They make us fight, did you know that? That's why I was bought here, to entertain some bloody vampire.'
He looked away uncomfortably. 'We need to get you out of London.'
'And when I leave here, where do I go? Back to the convent? I don't have the luxury of just moving from life to life as the whim takes me.'
'I can give you money, arrange references. You can get a serving role, somewhere safe. Until you leave London I'll look after you. Until I arrange safe passage, you will remain here.'
'In chains?'
He shook his head, 'I'll see that you are moved to somewhere more comfortable.' He turned to leave.
'Hal.' He stopped in the doorway to listen, 'if it was all a fantasy before, then why are you letting me go? Why not just kill me.'
He turned to face her. 'You were good to me once and I respect you.' His tone was clipped and neutral, but the emotion he was refusing to allow into his voice was showing in his eyes. 'But this is the only bit of mercy I can extend to you, wherever you go, I won't look for you. But if I see you again after all this is over I won't promise to show the same leniency.'
'Believe me, I'll be glad to never see you again.'
She thought she saw a glimmer of pain pass across his face but it disappeared as quickly as it had surfaced.
'Emilia says you've been refusing food.' He raised a brow. 'A little childish don't you think? I'll have some more sent up later. Eat it.'
They were definitely vampires he decided. They reeked of it. He watched them stumble through the street, unquestionably drunk. He grinned. That would things a bit easier. Fucking leeches. There was a small breeze which was helpfully carrying his scent away from them making it easier to have the element of surprise. He had been following these two since they had left the building that he suspected was their London headquarters.
He took the stake from his sheath. It felt reassuring in his hand. He followed a few metres behind, matching them step for step. He'd been looking for his little brother for six months now. After countless loose ends, the trail had finally led him to some wealthy vampires masquerading as respectable members of the aristocracy. In their dying breaths they had told him they had sent his brother on to London, a gift to the leader here, though they had refused to give any names.
He had only arrived here a few days ago but was already beginning to realise that the leeches had a strong hold over the city. He had visited the chief magistrate that morning, using the contacts he had gained as a solicitor to arrange a meeting. He had learnt a lot about vampires in the months since Matthew had been kidnapped and that time he had discovered that their bloody fingerprints could almost always be found in the halls of law enforcement. Useful for covering their tracks he supposed.
Mr Harris had tried to slam the door in his face. The man had been afraid of his own shadow. He had obviously understood the allusions to vampires in Johnny's words because his face had completely drained of colour. He had of course denied all knowledge of anything untoward but he was clearly terrified. After a little more pushing, the man had whimpered 'He's got my wife. I can't help you.'
'Please, a name.' Johnny had begged. 'That's all I need. I think they have my brother.'
The magistrate had thought about that for a moment, 'Yorke.' He finally volunteered. 'Don't ever come back here, you never met me.' And then the door had slammed in his face.
A name was a start. He could work with a name.
His next task that day had been a trip to Harris's office. His clerk hadn't told him anything of use, the name Yorke meant nothing to him apparently. Thankfully during their meeting there had been a knock at the door which the clerk had gone to answer.
Johnny had spied Harris's diary on the desk and tucked it under his coat. He had waited until the clerk had returned to the office, thanked him for his time and made his way out into the London street. He had quickly found the name Yorke in the diary next to a Mayfair address, which was how he had come to be stalking two vampires down the afternoon street.
He didn't give a shit about going after Yorke in particular, he just wanted his brother back. No reason to put himself in direct conflict with an old and powerful vampire, it wasn't supposed to be a suicide mission. No. This story was going to have a happy ending. He would get to his brother through the weaker, less important vampires. Much higher chance of survival that way he thought. He would be the first to admit that he wasn't a risk taker.
He followed the vampires until they turned onto a quieter street then made his move. He went straight for the bigger one, ramming the stake into his back before they even realised they were under attack. The smaller vampire turned on him and lunged forwards. Johnny managed to dodge. Just. He was new to this whole fighting thing.
'Little doggy want a fight?' the vampire mocked.
'Not particularly,' he gasped as he sent his fist towards the vampire's face, 'but I don't really see how else we're going to do this.'
To his dismay his punch hadn't met its target and the vampire was coming at him again, driving him back backwards towards the wall. With all his remaining energy he pushed the vampire off him. He tucked the stake in his pocket and took the knife from his belt, he wanted to incapacitate the vampire, not kill him. He ran at him slashing the knife frantically through the air hoping it would catch its target. Finally the knife made contact with the vampires belly and he thrust it forward causing the vampire to stagger backwards and fall against a tree. He knelt so that his weight was pinning the vampire down. He bit down on his lip and slashed the knife across his own forearm. He'd heard a rumour the other day that werewolf blood was poisonous to vampires, but he'd not had a chance to test it out yet.
He held his bleeding forearm against the vampire's bare flesh and to his relief it cried out in agony as its skin sizzled. Thank God for that.
'I'm looking for my brother, he's a werewolf like me.'
'I don't know no werewolves'
He applied his bleeding arm to the flesh again causing him to cry out again.
'I was told he was given to the leader here as a gift a couple of months ago. His name's Matthew Smith.'
'Ah yes.' The vampire gasped in pain, 'I do remember 'im, 'e was a good fighter. Won a lot o' money betting on im'
'What?' He'd never heard his brother described as a fighter before, anything but. He was a family man.
'In the dog fights, 'e 'ad a good run. Made a bit of a name for imself.'
Finally a real lead, albeit a horrifying one, he'd heard about the dog fights and the thought of his dear brother being forced to partake in such barbarity made his stomach churn. 'Where are they keeping him?'
The vampire sniggered mockingly. 'Topped himself I 'eard. Didn't have the stomach for killin'
The stake was in the vampire's chest before Johnny could stop himself. He fell forwards into the space where the vampire had been. He didn't cry, he didn't feel anything, just an unfathomable emptiness. So much for fucking happy endings. It was amazing how quickly your world could be bought down around you.
'Hal wants you to eat.' Emilia placed the bowl of food down beside her. This was becoming a familiar ritual.
'Does he actually give a shit?'
'In his own way. If he didn't he'd have just killed you.' She gave the wolf a sympathetic smile. She couldn't fault her scepticism about Hal's ability to care about anyone beyond himself, she was beginning to doubt it herself.
The werewolf looked up at her, eyes moist. 'You knew who I was all this time?'
'Yes.'
'You're friend, he said that I was the last thing Hal needed right now. What did he mean?'
'Do you mind if I sit down.' Sarah shook her head.
'Hal has…big ambitions.' Emilia explained, trying to find the right words. 'He needs to impress some very important people. If they knew about Hal's relationship with you and that he went without blood for all those years. That could ruin everything.'
Something clicked into place. 'This Mr Yorke everyone keeps mentioning, is that who he's trying to impress?' She looked at the vampire intently.
Emilia froze. Hal is….' She looked away. The girl needed to know, she would find out eventually anyway. Best to get it out in the open sooner rather than later. 'Hal's full name is Hal Yorke. Sorry, this all must be a bit of a head fuck for you.'
