Chapter 2
"The Prey"
James stumbled out of a bar into an alleyway, ignoring the strange looks he got from a few vagrants as he vomited into a dumpster. He gasped several times, inhaling what he had just done, and then spun away from it, sitting down hard in the dirt with his back up against a wall.
He was hopeless. His money was almost gone. He had no job. And he was attacking the problem by getting drunk. The northern section of Garrilport could be a cruel place to someone in his position. None of the other factories up north were hiring right now. None of the bars would extend him a line of credit right now. And none of the bar maids had agreed to his lewd proposals right now, or at any time.
He needed to go back to Entreri. It was that thought earlier in the day that had sent him to the bars in the first place. How could he go back to that man? How could he admit that he had been wrong? Entreri was almost a foot shorter, old, and weak. Men like James did not submit to men like that, especially not north of the guardhouse. He wouldn't do it.
But he had to.
It was the only option he had open to him. Entreri had paid good money. His hours were not unfair. James had really enjoyed his work, and the restaurant alone was reason enough to go back. But what would the other men think? He would be scorned and ridiculed. Maybe he should go back to Entreri tomorrow and beat his face in. That would make him feel better. James didn't entertain that thought for too long. He remembered the look in his boss' eyes and didn't want any piece of him. What was he going to do?
James needed a drink.
He began to push himself up with the wall, but his hand slipped and he landed back down hard on his seat. He shouldn't drink anymore tonight (or ever), he knew that, but he had to do something. Maybe he could beat Gene up. That sissy had started it all to begin with. What was he thinking ordering wine? Yes, James could beat him up and then rob him. That would make him feel better and give him more money.
James started to push himself up again, but his hand slipped once more and he winced as he came crashing down. Maybe he needed to wait a while till after he sobered up a bit. Or maybe he needed to pick on someone other than Gene. There were lots of northerners out tonight with coin pouches who were a lot more drunk than he was.
He looked out from the alley to the street, eyeing up the few pedestrians roaming the streets tonight. His gaze froze and his pulse stopped. There were two men. The taller of the two meant little to him. He was strong and lean, but dressed like a commoner. The second man had an indescribable aura around him. He dressed richly in purple and black. His hair was long and wavy and his clothes were stain free. That man was important and had money.
James looked around the alley for a weapon and spotted an old wooden post. He grabbed it and stood successfully, suddenly feeling not so drunk. The men had now walked past his alley and had their backs to him as he approached. He tried to walk quietly, but both men turned when he was still 20 feet behind them.
Fredrick and Alececarr regarded James inquisitively for a moment before the big man charged, his club raised. Fredrick stepped up to protect his master deflecting two quick blows from the club, but then failed in deflecting the bulk of the big man as he charged into him. The two fell to the street, Fredrick's head smacking against a stone, and James sent his elbow into his temple. Fredrick rolled one way and James the other.
The bigger man was the first to stand, and he stopped. Alececarr was standing before him, smiling as if nothing was wrong. He looked incredibly vulnerable standing there, and James wanted to smash him, but something held his attack at bay. Behind him Fredrick got up with vicious intent, but also stopped when he saw that his master had everything under control.
It was his eyes, James decided. They were deep and ancient. They told of pain and suffering, of lost love and emotional heartache. Yet at the same time they spoke of power and might. They were portals to a world that James had never imagined. A world where there was no weakness or feelings of inadequacy. It was a world he wanted to be apart of.
"Please," Alececarr said gently, "put your weapon down." He had been learning some of the language from Fredrick and could speak small sentences.
James did as he was told.
"Follow me. I wish to give you something."
Alececarr turned to walk into the alley, and James followed him. Fredrick watched with amazement. His master was more powerful than he had thought.
When they had left the street and were hidden in the shadows, Alececarr turned back to James. "Please, kneel." James did so. The ancient vampire smiled at him as he put a hand on each shoulder. "You will have no more pain." With that, his face changed suddenly to that of a demon, and like a viper he struck at James' neck. The big man had been lulled to a near comatose state, and it wasn't until the pain in his neck registered in his brain that he knew something was wrong.
He tried to push the vampire away, but Alececarr's hold was far too strong. He didn't have to struggle long though, for only a few moments into the attack, the vampire reeled back, spitting and uttering curses in a strange language. James was shocked. The creature in front of him was spewing his own blood into the air with a demonic look on its face.
He quickly scrambled to his feet and ran deeper into the alley. Fredrick had other ideas. He leaped into the air, flying over James and landing fifteen feet in front of him. James stopped short and Fredrick leaped straight at him, hitting him with two punches before he could put up a defense. James took two stumbling steps back, slipped on a rotted piece of fruit, and cracked his head against the dumpster.
Once more he was on his knees. Once more a vampire bit deep into his neck. This time Fredrick did not let go. He held on, sucking until the last drop was gone. He dropped James in the alley like a sack of potatoes and licked his lips as he looked up at his master.
Alececarr was still spitting blood. "He tastes like a sewer," he said, back in his own language. "What has he been doing?"
"Beer," Fredrick replied, still cleaning off his face.
"It is horrid!"
Fredrick shrugged. "It is not the best brew in Garrilport, but it isn't too bad."
"I am used to the finest elven wine, made from the grapes of the Cloudy Mountain Vineyards and then aged for a thousand years. This is swill."
Needless to say, Fredrick was not familiar with that wine. "This is what everyone up here drinks."
"Then we must find a new place to feed. I cannot become strong drinking urine. Surely not everyone in this city subjects themselves to this vile drink?"
"Those who do not will be missed." Fredrick kicked James' body. "This poor wretch will not be missed."
"What of the women in this city? Do they drink this too?"
Fredrick smiled. "Some do, but others do not."
Ten minutes later the two vampires were sitting in the nicest bar in four blocks. There were tables, the men inside kept it to a dull roar, and food could be served. It was a far cry The Dragon's Lair, but there were serving girls. Most women in the north worked in places like this, and most bars didn't have the luxury to be picky about whom they hired, but this was a relatively nice place. It was owned by two brothers who acted like bouncers. They were big men, and if you lived in the north, wanted a nice drink and some food that tasted reasonably well, this is where you came.
A girl of about 20 came to their table. It was almost midnight, and she had had a rough night so far. Her hair was frazzled, her blouse was stained and partially untucked, and her skirt was on sideways from having been tugged on by so many patrons. She could have been pretty, but it was tough to tell.
"What can I get for you gentleman this evening?" she said in a monotone voice without even looking up.
"A smile," Fredrick responded. The girl looked up. "And your name."
Fredrick didn't have the debonair appearance of his master, but he was beginning to learn how to make his vampiric aura work for him. The girl was flustered, "Uh, Erica," she said, quickly trying to flatten her hair and straighten her clothes. She gave him a smile. She was pretty.
"My friend and I are tired and would like something to eat."
Erica looked over at Alececarr for the first time and lost her breath. The ancient vampire mouthed the word, "Beautiful," to her and smiled from ear to ear. She was getting flushed now and she kept looking around to see if anyone was watching her.
"A, uh, a menu. Would you like a menu? I could get you a menu."
"No," Fredrick said, reaching out and gently holding her hand, "don't leave us."
"But, I, uh, um I,"
"Shhhh," Alececarr said gently. "Too much talk. Sit."
Erica looked at the empty chair between the two men and really wanted to take it. She had had a rough night and would like nothing better than to sit down and talk with these two strange, nice men, but she would get fired. "I have tables," she tried to argue, motioning behind her but not looking. She couldn't tear her eyes away from Alececarr.
"Sit," he said. She did and he put his hand on her bare knee, just below her skirt. A chill went up her thigh. They didn't say anything for a few moments; they just stared into each other's eyes.
A crash of plates from behind startled Erica back into reality. She pushed her chair back. "I have to get back to work."
"Do not leave us," Fredrick pleaded.
"I get off in a few hours," she said, not really knowing why.
"Too long," Alececarr replied, wishing he had a better hold on the language.
Erica looked deep into his eyes. "Ten minutes," she said. "In the back. I can take a break. Be quiet." With that she raced away, going to another table to clear some empty mugs.
Alececarr wasn't sure what she had just said, but Fredrick smiled and stood up. His master followed him out of the front door.
Five minutes later Erica was creeping through the darkened storage room, drying her hands on a towel. What was she doing? She didn't even know these men. What if they were thieves? No, she thought, remembering the look in the quiet one's eyes. They are not thieves; besides, she had no money on her.
A rat scurried behind a keg and she whirled around, the shadows playing tricks on her eyes. She should have brought a light with her; the darkness was giving her chills. Another creak in the floor came behind her and she spun and almost shouted. Alececarr stood silhouetted in the back doorway. The faint light from outside gave him an almost shimmering quality as it gently outlined his frame. Though she could not see his face, she knew it was the older, quieter one. His shoulder length hair and slighter, gentler frame was so easy to recognize it was as if she had known him all her life.
She had identified him as the older one, but she was not sure why. He had a smooth, wrinkle free face, his hair as black as night without a hint of gray. It had been his eyes, though, that told of his age. The eyes that promised no harm would come to her, that she would always be protected. All of her aches and pains, all of the drudgery of everyday life would be taken away from her.
"Come," was all he had to say and she flung herself at him. It felt like she floated the distance between them and that he caught her up in his arms. The embrace was sure and strong, lifting her off her weary feet. Suddenly nothing else in the world mattered. As their lips met, a spark of energy charged through her and she could feel her whole body come alive. A fire burned deep inside her begging to be released.
His lips left hers slowly, working their way across her cheek to her ear. There he nibbled briefly, sending another wave of pleasure through her. She moaned softly as he deliberately and passionately made his way down her neck. Erica burned inside and suddenly felt way too hot. She let out a sigh of satisfaction, therefore, when her new lover ripped open her blouse.
His lips moved swiftly and expertly, her body unconsciously moaning and convulsing. He moved to the base of her neck and out to her shoulders, then back to her collarbone. "Yes, yes, ye-"
She stopped. It was a prick, no, a bite, no . . . Was he . . . Did he . . . But then it didn't matter. The prick faded away. Her whole world began to fade away. Her sore feet, the bruise on her leg, her aching back, it all seemed to disappear. This glorious man was pulling, no, sucking all of her aches and pains away. She felt weightless in his arms, her mind free from the burdens of her body. As her spirit soared and the last thought passed through her mind, she never felt more alive.
Alececarr raised his head from her neck and dropped the dead girl to the ground. "That rivals the finest evlish wine in all existence," he declared as Fredrick entered the storeroom, having watched the whole encounter from the shadows. He hadn't been hungry before, but having just watched his master at work, he craved blood more than he could have thought possible. He glanced down at the bar maid, but knew his master would not have left him a drop.
"Take them at the peak of ecstasy," Alececarr said, "And all of the fleshy desires of your old life will seem to have been meaningless as you feed on pure, intoxicating energy."
"What's going on back here?" another female voice called from the front of the room. A much older woman came out holding a lantern. "What are you two-" she stopped when she saw Erica lying motionless on the floor.
Fredrick leaped toward her, clamping a strong hand over her mouth and hauling her up against the back wall. Terror filled her eyes, as the demonic appearances of her captures were clearly evident in the light from the open door.
"If you continue screaming," Fredrick said, as she was bellowing into his hand, "your death will be a slow and painful one." This didn't exactly make her scream any less, and Fredrick was about to end her, when Alececarr touched him on the shoulder.
"I have some questions for her," he said. "You will translate for me."
Fredrick nodded, listened to his master, and then relayed the question. "Are there any taverns in the northern section of town that serve wine instead of beer?"
The woman looked confused and started to shake her head. Fredrick hadn't thought they would get a positive answer but continued. "We need strong men who aren't drunk. Are there any meeting places where they might be?"
She looked puzzled again and shook her head. Fredrick was about to give up when a light went on in her eyes. Fred slackened his grip on her mouth a little to let her speak. "There is a new place that has opened. I think it is Dragoons or Dragons or something like that. It is supposed to be an upscale place, but no one can afford to go unless you work for the owner. They serve beer, I'm sure, but they are supposed to have wine too."
"Where is this place?"
"It's by the docks. By Borgain's Construction Yard. I've never been there."
Fredrick looked happy by this answer and the woman relaxed. "You've saved yourself a slow and painful death," he said grinning with his elongated teeth. "Instead you get a quick one." His face dove for her neck, but he was ripped away from the woman before his teeth touched flesh. He was hurled across the room into a pile of empty crates. Alececarr stood in his place.
The idea that this second man might be her savior passed quickly when she looked into his eyes. "You will feed only when I have had my fill," he called over to Fredrick, who was pulling himself from the broken crates, amazed that such a small body could be that strong.
The woman screamed, and Alececarr let her, knowing it wouldn't last long. As he sucked, her scream faded as if she were flying away from them. In essence that wasn't far from the truth. Her experience was far different from Erica's. She did not feel as if her pain was being taken away, but her life. Feeling was pulled from her extremities, leaving behind darkness and loneliness. Despair and void filled what had once been a virulent and boisterous woman. Breath left her and she fell in a heap next to the other woman.
"Fear is nearly as potent as ecstasy," Alececarr said, swirling his tongue around his mouth. "While one is sweet and spicy, the other is rich and meaty. Each emotion brings with it its own variety and power. You will learn to appreciate it."
"Will I?" Fredrick replied sarcastically, having finally removed himself from the crates and moved over to his master. The second woman lay on the floor completely drained as well.
Alececarr laughed. "It is a big city and we have lots of-"
"What's all the noise?"
Another voice came from the front. This one was not female. It was one of the brothers who owned this bar. He moved out into the main area of the stock room. The door was open, two dead women lay on the floor, but no one else was there. It was as quiet as death.
Christine Toole walked slowly down the steps into the cellar carrying a single candle. Her other hand carefully lifted the front of her nightgown so she wouldn't trip, leaving no hand to steady herself on the railing. It was still two hours before dawn, and she wasn't fully awake yet, but she managed to make it down without falling.
She had woken an hour ago and hadn't been able to get back to sleep. She had dreamt of the party her father was giving in a couple days, and she had been wearing the most beautiful gown. Her memory was pretty good, and she had spent the last half hour sketching it on a piece of paper, trying to figure out how she would make it. It required several feet of purple satin, and she was pretty sure there was some down here.
The stone floor was cold on her bare feet and she quickly scampered to a rug. A scurrying noise passed by a few feet to her right. "If a mouse runs over my feet," she muttered under her breath, "I am going to scream."
The air was extra chilly down there this morning, and she moved quickly through the large storage cellar. She moved past her father's wine collection and stacks of kegs. He kept several paintings down here that he rotated with others in his vast house. Skins and furs lay in a pile, and she almost stopped to wrap one around herself, but while they were clean, they still looked like animals, and she shivered as much at the thought of that, as she did the cold.
Way in the back was a small pile of her personal belongings. Most of them were memories from her childhood. A dried flower that a boy had given her at the age of 10, a few crafts she had made for her mother, papers and letters she had written for school, and then there were her sewing creations. She moved to set the candle down when she heard another noise from behind her. She turned to look, but there was nothing. She held the candle high, peering into the shadows by the kegs and furs, but couldn't see anything.
"You're spooking yourself out, girl," she admonished herself. She ignored the phantom and set the candle on a ledge and began going through her stuff.
Fredrick watched from the shadows. Craig had told him that he wouldn't be able to get into this house through the ground. Craig had been wrong, but his former partner hadn't counted on vampire strength either. Fredrick and Alececarr had made a hole by tunneling under the floor and removing a large stone slab, easily replaceable to cover their entrance.
They had slipped out earlier that night through a cellar window and slipped back in a few moments ago, just before Christine had started down the stairs. Alececarr was already back in the tunnel, but Fredrick waited amongst the kegs to see who it was. He was not disappointed.
The woman of his dreams was standing now, holding up a few pieces of fabric to the candlelight. She was standing directly between the candle and the kegs, illuminating her silhouette through the thin nightgown. He could clearly see she was not wearing any undergarments, and the cool air was doing interesting things to her body.
His body ached for her.
Alececarr had told him that the desires of the flesh from his old life would be replaced by something even better now. It was true. He had no pulse and had no breath, so the reactions he would normally experience when looking at a beautiful young woman were gone. Replacing them was a different type of desire. It was centered on power, not lust.
She was young and full of life. Lust's desire was to immerse yourself in that life. Power wished to feed upon it, to consume and own it. It was far more primal, far more controlling and intoxicating. Fredrick could barely restrain himself. He knew now was not the time, though. If Thurston Toole's only daughter was killed in her cellar, their point of entry would be discovered, and Thurston would bring the whole city down upon them.
No, now was not the right time. He would have her. He would conquer her, but he would take pleasure in the chase. The effort and work he would put into it would make the prize that much sweeter. Besides, he wanted to know how he should take her. Alececarr had shown him ecstasy and fear, each with their own flavor and power. He didn't know which he would prefer. He would have to experiment with others.
Christine had found her purple satin, and was walking back to the stairs. She paused as she reached the kegs, remembering the sound she had heard. She raised the light again and looked back into the shadows. Fredrick was directly underneath her and she looked past him.
He could reach out and touch her if he wanted. He could smell her too. Though he did not require breath, he could still smell. It was necessary for the hunt. She smelled raw. She was unbathed and unperfumed. The sweat and oil from the night's sleep still clung to her skin. Fredrick inhaled it deeply. That is what he would eventually taste. Not the perfumes and flowers that girls covered themselves with, but the raw human juices. Fredrick almost drooled.
Christine saw nothing, and walked quickly back to the stairs and up out of the cellar. Fredrick watched her body move under her nightgown until she was out of site. He sighed and slipped back into his tunnel to follow his master.