Apologies for the length of this chapter, but I don't think it could be split easily...I will have a go at splitting it, but if I don't put it up now...This one has proven a little troublesome...thanks to Saint and Topo on the Blog for a conversation about where vampires may go when they die...possibly...Any mistakes will be dealt with shortly. The Being Human characters are Toby Whithouse's, the BBC's and the other talented writers involved in the show.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Friday night. A bitter frost was setting in. Another cold, November night in Lancashire. She saw him through the kitchen window, standing by the garden gate. She kept her eyes fixed on him as she walked cautiously down the path towards him.
"You look as though you are walking towards the Devil himself, Jenny..." She stopped abruptly. Wyndam smiled, as the moonlight fell on his face, she could see a dark gleam in his eyes. "Not quite..." he said softly, opening the gate for her.
She pulled the hood of her cloak up, over her head, her fingers trembling with the cold. She fumbled with the ties, her nerves getting the better of her. He could feel her agitation.
"Give me your hands..." Her eyes flickered, but she placed her hands in his. They were even colder than her own.
"Your heartbeat is so loud...you're trying to calm your fears with your breathing...it isn't working. There's nothing to be afraid of..." His voice was so persuasive, yet she doubted him still.
"No?" He smiled.
"No...You are with me..."
They'd ridden for what seemed like miles, along dirt tracks, and poor roads, not seeing another soul. It was such a cloudy night, she couldn't tell which direction they were headed in, Wyndam had deliberately turned them around several times. She had no idea where they were, or where they were going. There were no recognisable stars breaking through the clouds, to help her find her way back. She thought they had been heading west, at least at the beginning, but now she wasn't sure. She'd looked for any signposts, but she had seen none. He seemed to be taking her a way only he knew. She was in the middle of nowhere, with a six hundred year-old-killer...miles from home...and miles from Isobel...
"Why did you ask me if I could tell prophecies?" She'd stopped her horse, unable to bear the quiet any longer. The further they travelled from Whitekirk, the greater her unease became. Wyndam yanked his horse to a stop. He'd been silent for most of the way, seemingly determined to get to wherever he was taking her, as quickly as possible. He turned his horse around, and looked at her seriously.
"We are great believers in prophecy...the ability to see the future is highly prized, it is so rare..." He looked away for a moment, then turned his gaze back on her.
"Some see much further than others..." He took a breath, before continuing.
"We have our own history. Some of it is known, and kept, but the future matters to us...we survive...we are the future...one way or another...our time will come...it is only a question of how...and when..." He sounded so resolute, as though it were a well-rehearsed argument.
"You sound very sure of yourself, Wyndam," she said in a low voice.
"Of course..." was the assured reply. "What do you see?"
She blinked, not expecting the question. She looked around herself.
"Trees...big trees...a dark night..." He chuckled.
"Not much gets past you, does it? How did you get to Whitekirk?" She gazed at him, curiously.
"Down through the Borders, we crossed back to Northumbria...then..." He cut her off in mid-sentence.
"So you've never been further west, or south, of Whitekirk?" The questioning look was there. She was intrigued.
"No...Why? We don't exactly get about much...you've seen that for yourself..." He smiled again.
"No reason...though I remember your little jaunt on the Chester road..." He urged his horse into a trot. They resumed their journey, not a word passing between them for several miles. Wyndam spoke first.
"I take it the Burnett's were happy to look after Isobel?" Now he wants to talk, she thought.
"Yes. She'll be company for Mrs Burnett, while her husband's working...I don't think she'll make it to Christmas..." her thoughts drifted off...They hadn't asked any awkward questions, merely taken her at her word, she had something to do, she would be back as soon as possible...Burnett had noticed her worried look though.
"Your family friend, you say...Is everything alright? You're not happy..." She replied with her sweetest smile, and her smoothest lie;
"Everything is fine...I just have something to deal with..." Or someone..."I will be back...Everything will be alright..."
"A penny for them..." Wyndam's voice cut in. She had halted her horse, without realising it. She looked up at him, waiting for a caustic remark, but he was paying her no attention, pulling something out of his saddlebag.
"We are almost there," he said, "but it would be better for you, if you put this on...it is for your own good..." She could see what was in his hands, some kind of material...a blindfold. She breathed in slowly.
"Oh, you're that kind of..." she tried to laugh it off; the unease was taking hold of her again. He smiled, ruefully.
"That tends to go with the fangs..." he was trying to keep the tone light, as well.
"I don't want you distracted, I want you to concentrate. It is better for you, that you that you don't know where you are going, or how to get there again. I would not ask if I didn't think it was important..."
It was coming down to a matter of trust. She was remembering her arrest, the officers had bound her hands, then one insisted that she be gagged and blindfolded too;
"Can't be too careful, if she is a witch she might try cursing us..." She'd laughed at that, not believing they were serious, then she'd seen their eyes...Her father had looked at her strangely, she'd thought it was shame that his daughter was going the same way as his wife, she'd thought about the time when she'd wished him harm...he was thinking the same thing...that was when the fear had taken hold...She cried out as they went to do it, her father had moved towards her, as if to help her, but the man in charge stepped in front of him, and put a hand on his shoulder.
"She'll receive a fair trial, I imagine, if she's innocent..." He'd laughed harshly in her face, as one of the others kicked her to the ground, the better to restrain her. She'd got a good kick at him somewhere very tender, before she was pulled upright, still struggling as they bound her eyes. The absolute humiliation...the fear...but she wouldn't cry out again...she wouldn't give them the satisfaction...
"Jenny..." It was said softly. She looked up at Wyndam reluctantly. He would have read every thought; he had to know what it would cost her to trust him. He was waiting patiently for her answer; he knew what he was asking of her, she was sure. She scanned his face for any sign of malice, but there was none. She took a deep breath; she knew it was a turning point in this strange acquaintance. A leap of faith...
"I won't be able to see where I'm going..."
"No, but the horse can..." She laughed, in spite of herself. The answering smile was seemingly genuine, but then he's been doing this a long time, she thought. How many has he fooled over the years...?
"Alright, but if I fall over a cliff, I'm coming back to haunt you..." His eyes lit up, a wide smile on his face.
"I don't doubt that for a second..."
He felt her tense as he tied the blindfold.
"It's alright; I'm not serving you up as a meal to a pack of starving vampires..."
"It wouldn't be the first time you've done that though, would it Wyndam?" Her fear was making her braver now. She heard the dark chuckle.
"Well, I can't say it has never happened...but not to you..."
"Why not?" She heard him draw in his breath. A sigh.
"You are different..."
"How?" She turned her head towards his voice, automatically.
"You caught my eye...you stood out..."
They continued on, more slowly this time, with Wyndam leading Jenny's horse. With her eyes bound, she had to concentrate on what she could hear, and feel, around her, she could feel a chilled breeze, she heard the odd hoot of an owl, and just for a second, she heard a strange shrieking howl. She flinched at the sound, spooking her horse. Wyndam halted both horses.
"It's just a fox," he said.
"What else would it be," she answered, "there are no wolves left..."
"There are always wolves..." he replied. "We are there." She raised her hands to untie the blindfold, but she felt his hands catch her own.
"No, leave it on. It's better for you if you don't know where you are, or how to get here..." She hesitated for a moment, before answering him.
"Yes." He helped her down, taking her hands and leading her carefully across what felt like soft, grass beneath her feet. She could feel a fine breeze on her face, and she could hear a soft, lapping sound coming from her right, she could almost taste...She couldn't help herself, she opened her mouth.
"We are near the coast...I can smell the sea...there's salt in the air..." She heard Wyndam's exasperated groan.
"Fine, woman, have it your own way...don't say I didn't warn you..." He untied the blindfold. They were stood in yet another clearing. Her eyes took a while to adjust to the bright moonlight. She could see large, bulky stones lying where they must have fallen years before. Another ruin, she thought, but much older, and more spacious than the dank depressing ruin of a cottage he'd taken her to, just a few days before.
"Do you see, or feel, anything, here?" Wyndam stood to one side, his arms folded, with no expression on his face. He was tapping his fingers, the only sign of any restlessness. Jenny paused for a moment, if she could just look inside…if she could just know what he was looking for…
"Ah, ah! That would be cheating…" There was the familiar dark gleam in his eye, but it vanished quickly. The sharpness was there, though. He looked away from her.
"Did anything happen here?" There was a sudden urgency in his tone, he was anxious for her answer. This place is important to him, for some reason, she thought. Why? She scoured the scene, looking for anything that might mean something, calling out silently for anyone, or anything to answer her, but there was nothing. He was watching her so intently now, she felt a frisson of fear…he only has to take a few steps over…if I can't see anything…if I fail…
His head moved slightly, he knew exactly what she was thinking. She closed her eyes, and finally spoke.
"There's nothing here…" Wyndam turned away from her, unable to hide his disappointment. He really thought she would be the one…He had waited so long…
Jenny felt a sudden coolness on her face, a gentle touch of something…it felt like…soft flakes of snow…it was falling on her face…she reached up to touch them, knowing there was nothing there…but the cold was enveloping her…she could see snow all around her…she stepped forward…heard her feet crunching in the fallen snow…something was drawing her in…
"Not here…not this place…" she said, moving away from the ruins, picking her way through the real scene, bracken, to the right of them. Wyndam raised his head from his hands, turning in amazement. He followed her slowly, not quite believing his own eyes…
"Pain," she said faintly, "such terrible pain…" A tightness around her heart, a breathlessness…She walked on…taking no notice of Wyndam.
"Such suffering…" She could see small drops of blood in the snow…as though someone had fallen injured, and been dragged…She felt arms grasp her from behind, Wyndam's. She shrank from him, waiting for the pain…
"Look down..." was all he said. The scene faded. A steep drop fell away into a roughly-cut circular pit. It was overgrown now, but deep enough that if someone took a false step, they would have no way out. She could hear muffled whispers; they were confused and jumbled...
"We were trying to…I didn't want to kill her…Why are they doing this...help me…I won't kill anymore of them…they don't have to…they can live off animals…" A harsh laugh. A bitter voice.
"We served our purpose. We protected them and look what they did…they got what they deserved…she got what she deserved…she'd have killed you too…in the end…she would have made you like them..." Another voice, more plaintive.
"We did this to ourselves…we betrayed them…they will be coming…they'll burn us…they'll hunt us down…they don't forget…we killed one of them…"
"Be quiet…we have to get out of here…"
The voices faded as quickly as they'd come to her. The remains of long-gone spirits. Jenny looked round nervously at Wyndam. He had that cold look she was so familiar with. He was waiting for her questions.
"Who were they?" He let her go, and turned away.
"It doesn't matter."
"Why? Because they were human?" He shook his head.
"No. Because they were caught in a trap, of their own making. The hunters became the hunted...That was not made by my kind," he pointed to the pit. "They tried to destroy a group of vampires…after killing one of us…We were 'useful' to them, driving off their enemies for them…" There was more than a hint of bitterness in his voice.
"Humanity has a strange way of showing its appreciation. She was a newborn, practically a babe in arms. She hadn't killed…her master fed her…she was coping…just…" He sighed. She'd meant something to him, she thought.
"This life…isn't for everyone…some…should never be turned…" She plucked up the courage.
"A friend, Wyndam?" He smiled.
"I suppose…I pitied her. That rarely happens. She was like a firefly…too brief a life to know what she would have become…" He paused; the sad tone gave way to anger.
"They bragged about it. How easy it had been to trap her…to kill her…" He was gazing intently into the pit. "That was how we found out about it…her maker had left her alone…" She was watching his reactions closely.
"What was her name?"
"Bathilda..." He sighed, then he turned to look at her.
"But we don't forget, Jenny…" The cruel smile was on his lips. "She was one of us. We came back. They were dealt with…" She knew that dark look in his eyes, and she knew better than to question him further.
"She's not here, Wyndam..." He smiled, sadly.
"I know. She was..." Jenny heard the faintest of murmurs, so hushed she could barely hear it. She looked ahead, to where she thought the sound was coming from. She started to walk away from the pit, skirting its edge. Wyndam still seemed to be lost in the past, not noticing her moving away from him. Whatever was pulling her, seemed to be getting stronger, the further she walked on. This was the reason he had brought her here, to this place. The moonlight shone a path through the undergrowth. A large circle, still obvious, in the scorched earth.
"This is the place...this is why..." her soft voice broke Wyndam's reverie. He gazed over at her, curious.
The cold sensation was seeping into her again. The scene changed again, like she was slipping between two worlds. She could see a trail of blood in the white snow. It stopped at the edge of the circle. She could smell burning wood...no that couldn't be...she concentrated...there was such pain...such suffering...but there was also a strange feeling of peace at the same time...she'd never felt anything like it...She raised her hand into the air, just above the circle. She could feel something so light...like gossamer...so thin...like a spider's web...They weren't spirits as she knew them...
"They are something else, aren't they?" Wyndam said nothing.
"They were vampires, weren't they?"
"Yes."
"How is that possible? Do vampires have..." He shrugged.
"It shouldn't be...we don't..." She could feel pain in him...that was unnerving.
"I'm sorry..." He looked directly at her.
"You can feel them, can't you, Jenny?" He said it so sadly, she looked away, uncomfortable.
"I can hear them, too, Wyndam..." She could just hear the softest of whispers. A gentle sobbing. He was watching her carefully. How much to tell her...
"You're the only other person who's ever felt them..."
"How many have you brought here?"
"A few..."
"How many have walked away?" She was scared to ask the question, knowing what the answer would be.
"None...until tonight..." That trickle of fear was there in her heart.
"Was one of them your maker?" He smiled wistfully.
"No...A friend made at the same time...A long time ago...He went back to his family, his human," he said the word sharply, "family. Tried to live a normal life. You can't...the hunger changes all that...He failed. He turned them all, one by one, trying to cling on to what humanity he had left. But the hunger tricks you, Jenny. It fools you..." She finally turned to face him, he looked almost human.
"We don't come back as ghosts. We are already dead."
"Except for this place," she said quietly. "Your ghosts, Wyndam." He smiled, grimly.
"Oh, I've made plenty of those..."
"It's never happened anywhere else, as far as I'm aware. Sometimes when we die, it isn't the end..." He was choosing his words very carefully, she could tell. He was keeping something back, that was obvious.
"How did they die?" The sharp look.
"Driven into a barn...crosses all around...cut down when they tried to escape...burnt...hacked...anything but..." he stopped himself. He'd said too much as it was.
"But what?" she said quietly. He hesitated, turning away from her. He looked back at the circle.
"Nothing grows there...too much of our blood was spilt here..." Jenny got just an inkling of something. They were killed the wrong way...
"She was killed here, too, wasn't she? Bathilda?" He nodded, without looking at her. The humans had paid the price for destroying an Old One's protégé. It had seemed strangely appropriate to meet out their punishment here. Jenny's mind turned back to the circle.
"They were trapped here twice, weren't they?" She really was almost too perceptive, he thought.
"Yes...their bodies lay...whatever 'soul' or 'spirit' remained...whatever we have in us...it couldn't leave them...they weren't...they were never released..."
"Neither flesh, nor spirit...a living, or dying, Hell, Wyndam..." It was his turn to look for any sign of malice, or contempt. All he saw was a pair of kind grey eyes watching him closely. He smiled, wearily.
"Probably no more than we deserve...but they were different...they were surviving without killing humans...that is very difficult for my kind. And pointless, anyway..." She was curious.
"Why?"
"The hunger will always win. It comes back worse. They denied what they were..."
"What happened to their bodies? Surely something could have been...they could have been laid to rest..." He gave a callous laugh.
"They were eventually pushed over that cliff...into the sea...God knows where the sea took them...she doesn't always give up her dead..."
They had been too young, no heirs to bring them back, and even if the bodies had been found...they wouldn't have come back...right...
"Then how did you know..." He ignored her question.
"He apparently begged them to let his child go..." the look of distaste as he said it, as though it was a shameful weakness. "The child hadn't yet been turned..." He saw her react. "It's normally to keep a family together, but other times..." he thought of Hetty, that most malign of the younger recruits. But Hetty was a survivor, not many fools got past her. That much venom and sheer wickedness in a child...it often took his breath away just how...
"But they haven't lived...they are innocent...that's not..."
"Fair?" He shook his head, his own temper was rising. "We are all damned from the moment we are turned. We don't get another chance. There is no second chance for us, even if we had no choice...that's what they don't understand...we are thrown back...when we cross that line..." He threw his hand out towards the circle.
"We are here to be the demons...the monsters in the dark...so they can be redeemed..." He pointed to the pit. "We are in our Hell...they are in their Heaven...and they don't even realise it. Are they thankful? Not a hope. They sell their souls for a pittance, and fool themselves that God will save them, God will provide..."
"That doesn't make you any better than them. You kill to..." she said it without thinking. She heard the intake of breath. "Once you take a life..." he smiled at her certainty, remembering the conversation.
"We compromise every day, vampires and humans alike." She was thoughtful.
"What normally happens when...?"
"We die for good?" She nodded.
"We fade to dust, to nothing. All those years...no one has ever come back...not from the final end...not as 'spirits' or ghosts, or whatever..."
"Apart from here..." He agreed.
"Apart from here..." She breathed in, pensive.
"This is where you kill me, isn't it?" He turned the searching gaze on her.
"No," he said it gently. "I will keep my word. You will have a life. I will keep you safe. You are too valuable..." That angered her. She rounded on him.
"A prize, in other words?" He sighed.
"Your abilities will help keep you and Isobel alive. You must have worked that out for yourself. I had to be sure." She was glaring at him, darkly.
"I don't want you to die...I want you to live, Jenny. A time may come..."
"When you kill me?" Direct as ever, he thought.
"When I will ask you a question...but not now...I want you to have a future..." She knew where this was going.
Hell would freeze over...
"Time gets the better of us all, Jenny...that hourglass runs faster than you think..." She broke away from his gaze.
"Why did you bring me here, Wyndam?"
"I want them released. I would have thought that was obvious..." An ironic smile, all pain seemingly gone.
"They are at peace, Wyndam." He scoffed at that. The voices were getting louder and louder to Jenny, as though they were strengthening. She could just make out the loudest one.
"Another one, Wyndam? Where did you get this one from?" Jenny spun around, her anger still flaring.
"What do you mean, this one?" The loudest voice went silent. Wyndam laughed.
"At peace? Oh yes..." He rolled his eyes. She felt the 'spirit' buckle.
"You failed us in life, you continue to fail us in death, Wyndam...this is no laughing matter..." His expression turned grave.
"No it is not...and I would remind you who you are speaking to..." he said steely. The 'spirit' seemed to falter at that.
"You weren't an Old One then, Wyndam...you said you would look after us...we were your family..." Jenny saw a flash of temper in his eyes, then the control was back. An Old One?
"And I did. I am not responsible for...I warned you all to vanish; especially as you weren't feeding...you were weaker than you should have been..." He seemed to remember that Jenny was standing beside him.
"Sorry, vampire family squabbles...worse than humans, our's can last centuries..." His eyes flicked towards the circle again.
"You're here, aren't you?" Jenny could hear a different voice now, a more resigned one.
"Yes, Edgar...will it work?"
"Who knows? It can't hurt...she is a remarkable creature..." He knew the reaction he would get.
"She is standing here!" Jenny heard a deep chuckle coming from the circle.
"And brave too...standing in this place...in the middle of nowhere...with you...Did you give her a choice, Edgar?" Wyndam appeared to be weighing Jenny up and down.
"She came here of her own free will. She chose to come with me." Jenny was watching him attentively. Whatever 'spirit' was there fell silent.
"Any last words?" Wyndam stood, stock still. They both heard a loud sigh.
"Let it end..."
"Jenny..." He raised his right hand.
"I can't...I don't know how..." she could hear a voice in her head...the softest whisper...
You have to do this...she'll be safe...you have to release them...end their pain...let them go on...you know how to do this...it's in you...it's your gift...
Her eyes shot to Wyndam, but she knew instinctively that it wasn't his voice.
"Try," he said softly. He was waiting patiently. She guessed that was something he didn't do often. He grinned. She began to walk around the edge of the circle, not sure why she was doing so. This is madness, she thought. I don't know what I'm doing, I'm not a witch...She focused her thoughts on one aim, set them free...let them go...She kept walking slowly round the circle. She could feel such a strange mixture of fear and resignation.
"Let go…why are you afraid…there's nothing worse waiting there for you…than this Hell…" She was feeling light-headed. "You're fighting it…but it won so long ago…" She was almost in a trance.
"Let go…you were brave…then…you are brave now…let go…" Where did that come from, she thought in passing. The 'spirit' spoke;
"We kept fighting…'til the end…they kept coming…none of us wanted to…"
"There was nothing we could have done," Wyndam's voice cut in. "they'd been waiting for their chance…they took it…we're the last…let go…" The 'spirit' was wavering, now the end was near.
"They gave us a wonderful gift, Edgar…" Wyndam nodded, slowly, his face set.
"A terrible gift…let go…"
Jenny felt the wind pick up. The night had been calm until then. She kept walking.
"Let it go…let it end…" She could see a faint, white mist in the centre of the circle. It rose up, a shapeless mist that seemed to change colour in the moonlight, to a silver-grey mass floating in the air. She started to speak words that she didn't understand, a language she didn't know…She was drawn to the mist, as though if she could only reach it, she could stop the pain…she reached out to towards it…
"Let go…" she said, more loudly this time. Whatever force was there, it threw her back. She hit something solid, and lost consciousness for a moment. She missed the 'spirit's final words. As the mist melted upwards into the air, Wyndam heard his old friend say;
"Let her go…before it's too late…"
She came round to find Wyndam beaming down at her.
"It worked! I have to admit I didn't think you could do it…I misjudged you. Maybe you are…"
"I'm not a…" she said, half-heartedly.
"Witch? No, but you have old blood in you, and old knowledge…" He helped her to her feet. She saw blood on his hands. Was that her blood? He saw her freeze.
"You hit your head quite hard…might have knocked some sense into you…" the familiar grin. "You also cut your leg…" She lifted her skirt just a little. There was blood there, on her left shin. She looked warily up at him.
"Jenny, I'm over six hundred years old, do you really think I can't control…woman, you really do need to learn how to trust…" She looked over at the circle. Whatever was there, it had vanished.
"What was I saying," she was still faint. Had he fed from her again? "I didn't know the words…where are we?"
"We are in Wales. Not sure what you were speaking, sounded a bit…Welsh…probably some old Celtic strain…I'm not quite that old…" He smiled, a gleam in his eye. "Not one of my languages…you pick up the odd one over the years…we tend to travel…" Her look of surprise amused him. "Well it tends to be, "Oh my God," and "Please don't kill me…" She smiled, weakly. There was a dull throbbing in her head now.
"This place was a refuge for your kind…wasn't it?" He glanced sharply at her.
"More a stronghold…the Dark Times…some retreated…cut themselves off from humanity, and their own kind…this place was remote…"
"Not remote enough, Wyndam…" she said softly. She changed the subject.
"How could I do that?" He handed her the saddlebag, the familiar routine. Eat something, drink something. They sat down on the damp earth. She cleaned the cut on her leg the best she could. He waited a while before speaking.
"Seers are a bridge, or a link between the two worlds. No one's quite sure where your kind came from. Human, but not quite…" She was doubtful.
"You expect me to believe that?" He shrugged.
"It's the truth, Jenny. You've always known you were different…" She looked away, unsure.
Wyndam looked up at the sky. The stars were glinting in the ink black night.
"Time to go." He gazed over at the circle. How many of his kind had perished that night, so long ago? The blood that had been shed in revenge…don't dwell on the past…it can't be changed…the future was what mattered…
He got to his feet, and offered Jenny his hand. She took it without hesitating. A small victory, he thought.
They were ready to leave, when Wyndam turned his horse around. Jenny watched him with interest. He bowed his head, and closed his eyes, like a sinner praying at an altar. He's saying goodbye, she thought. He opened his eyes, and spun his horse around.
"We'll take the higher path back, I think." That led away from the sea. Jenny interrupted him.
"But…" He waited for her to finish. "Can't we take that path?" She pointed to an overgrown path that led downwards. "It's just that…I haven't seen the sea in…I've always lived near the sea…until we came to Lancashire…" They would be near the edge though…
"Well if you want to take the long way back…" She smiled, more certainly.
"After you…"
Jenny's fingers were numb with cold. The reins kept slipping through them. This night seemed endless. And so cold. She kept drifting into a doze, then snapping awake.
"That's it…we are stopping for the night. You nearly fell off that time…" She was reluctant to stop, she wanted home to Isobel…
"There's an inn about a mile off. We'll stop there. A few hours rest, then home." He knew from past experience it wasn't a vampire establishment, there should be no keen eyes to sear over her. She must be tired, he thought, she hadn't argued.
The landlord looked the couple up and down. Not the usual kind who appeared on the doorstep, in the middle of the night. The woman looked exhausted, must have been a long journey…
"Only got the one room…" The woman's head rose at that, the look she gave the man…
"The lady will take that," said the soft-spoken man, "and she will want the key…" Odd couple, thought the landlord. He went to fetch the key anyway.
"Such a disapproving look, Jenny…"
"Eyes in the back of your head, Wyndam?" He laughed, and pointed to a small mirror pinned behind the bar. He enjoyed the look of surprise.
"Yes…no reflection…" He reached over the bar, and nudged the mirror from its hook. It smashed on the wooden floor. The landlord returned. Wyndam sighed.
"Strange that…this place isn't haunted, is it?" The landlord was wearing a confused expression. Jenny got the feeling he did that a lot.
The room she was shown to was sparsely furnished, but clean. Wyndam stayed with the landlord in the doorway, as she closed the door, turning the key in the lock.
"You're not going in?" said the landlord.
"No…an argument…women…I'll leave her to calm down…" said Wyndam, wryly. There was the first little jab of the dark voice, nipping at him. He'd fed before going to the cottage. He'd only taken enough to satisfy the urge, not enough to numb the hunger. That was a rare lapse in judgement. He chose a different seat downstairs in the tavern from his usual one; normally in the darkest corner, tonight he chose to sit facing the fire. The usual drunks, heads on tables, sleeping it off. A woman swept the floor around them. A tired heartbeat. Worn out, not long 'til she…He glanced at the narrow wooden staircase, before resting his head on the panelling behind him. He closed his eyes, and fell asleep. He got barely half an hour's rest before the hunger woke him, as sharp as a dagger. He looked again at the staircase. If he went up those stairs…he would kill her without thinking. The dark voice was demanding its due. He gazed around the room at the stragglers. Too public. He took a swig of the ale in front of him.
Six hundred years of this…a neverending hunger…a burning hatred in his veins…eternal life…eternal hunger…eternal death…
Wake up…
Her eyes flashed open. She knew he was in the room. She pulled herself upright in the bed. Wyndam was sitting on the bed, watching her. The black eyes. She tensed.
"Why won't he let me kill you?" he said. "We've killed so many…never enough…but he won't let me kill you…" She could feel the hunger coursing through him. The moonlight was falling on his face. She could see faint dark veins under his skin. "I can smell your blood…I can almost taste it…" he leaned forward to stroke her neck.
"There's a darkness in you…" he said quietly. She caught her breath.
"A darkness to come…or already there…?"
"Both," he replied. She gasped, but she held his gaze. She reached out her hand, to touch his face. He leaned his face into it, allowing the connection. He'd let her in before, if she could just…
"You think you can save me, Jenny? I can't be saved…" There was no anger there, just an acceptance. She stroked his face, gently.
"No…just give you some peace, perhaps, if only for a while…You see something in me, don't you?" The vampire's mouth twitched. "What?" she asked.
"Two lost souls…" he said.
"Yes…"
"I was lost a long time ago…" he said, subdued.
"So was I…" she shivered as she said it. The black eyes disappeared. The blue eyes met her gaze.
"I want your warmth, your humanity…they'd be the first things to go if I turned you…" She was blinking away tears.
"You see the real me…the one who failed…" she whispered.
"You will kill me, Wyndam. Tonight…tomorrow…next week…next month…that's why I can't see further, isn't it?" She was shaking with fear now. His face was so still.
"They are protecting you from something. I don't know what...you've got closer than anyone in over six hundred years..."
"You need to feed..." she murmured. He pulled away first, breaking the connection. It physically hurt her to let go. He walked slowly over to the door.
"Lock this behind me..." She called after him;
"So someone else pays the price...what does that make me...hoping that someone else dies, instead of me?"
"Human..." he said bluntly, closing the door behind him.
A knock on the door.
"Miss...Madam..." A timid voice. Jenny unlocked the door, bleary-eyed. A scrap of a child stood.
"Miss...The gentleman says if you're not down soon, he's leaving without you..." She thanked the child, then she looked out of the window. All she could see was a white blur. She smeared the condensation on the glass. Snow...
She made her way downstairs, uncertain what she'd find. Wyndam was sat at a table, speaking to the landlord. He was moaning about how a customer had been found, his neck broken. Jenny's eyes met his. A dark look of understanding.
"Tragic...so easy...a false step..." The landlord waved his hand.
"Yes, but he was a drunken sod at the best of times...battered his wife...the Almighty took him before she had to swing for him..."
The ride back was a quiet one. It was as though nothing had happened the night before. Jenny spoke first.
"Isobel will love the snow. She's only seen it once, in Durham..." Wyndam shook his head.
"It's too cold," he grimaced. He stayed silent for the rest of the journey. She'd clearly got too close...
He left her at the cottage with barely a word. She hurried on to the village. Isobel was bursting with news.
"Mr Burnett told me about the stars...it was so cold...Ruth and me threw snowballs...She can't find one of her kittens...I didn't take it...honest Mum..." Burnett stood, a wide grin on his face.
"She's quite..."
"A handful?" said Jenny, clipping her daughter's ear.
"My wife enjoyed every minute. Did everything go...?" Isobel looked up at her mother. She hadn't said a word. Mr Burnett had asked if anything was worrying her mother. She'd answered;
"Just me..." Grown-up stuff...secrets...
"Yes...thank you...Come on Isobel..."
She was so tired.
"He said there was a star called Pegasus..."
"That's a constellation..." So tired...
"Yes...that's what I meant...and there's one called..."
She would need to take something to help her sleep. She didn't like to...if Isobel needed her...
"And I got Matthew a good one...he cheated...he put a stone in his snowball..."
So full of life...she wished she had half of Isobel's energy...
"Yes, sweetheart...I'll show you the stars tomorrow night..."
"But Mum..." Isobel protested.
There was no one on watch, that was odd...
"Isobel..." sighed Jenny.
Her mother won't mind. Not really. She won't know if she's really quiet. She knows where her mother keeps the keys. The front door one is always under her pillow. The back door one is in the kitchen, hanging on a hook by the fire. She can just reach it if she stands on the chair...she just wants to see the stars...
So tired...
Then just a whisper in her sleep-worn mind.
Danger...
"Isobel..." and she's running...