In the morning Nina was busy cooking breakfast while George narrated the events from the night before.
"So let me get this straight. Mitchell moved out?" Nina asked leaning back against the counter, in her surprise unknowingly pointing the egg-covered spatula towards her boyfriend and making bits of food snow all over the kitchen floor.
"Yes. And please remember to be tactful. Annie is not taking it well," George said over gesturing.
"Good to know you think so highly of me," Nina said turning back to her task visibly in a tiff.
"Come on Nina! You know what I mean. Mitchell is just not your favourite person."
Nina couldn't do anything but grimace at George since Annie came into the kitchen at the same time.
"Hi, Nina."
"Hi, sweetie," Nina said hugging Annie.
"George told you then. I'm okay. You don't have to whisper around me. It's just my usual overreacting."
George went over to her and placed his arm around her neck.
"We just worry. And I've told you: You don't have to act this way. He's coming back."
"I know. But I was awful, wasn't I? I did all the things that girlfriends shouldn't do. I nagged, and begged, and gave him an ultimatum. I didn't really mean saying it was all over," Annie said disentangling from him.
"Oh you silly billy! He knows you didn't mean it. If anyone knows about saying whatever hurtful thing they don't mean just to get a reaction it's him. Not that I condone what he did."
"Well…" Nina's voice got Annie and George's attention, both assuming a defensive stand anticipating her comments.
"Nina. Please don't," George started.
"You don't even know what I'm about to say George!" she reprimanded him with annoyance. "I, for one, understand what Mitchell did. I know I'm not his biggest fan, but this is about the most noble thing I've witness him doing."
"That's it! The world's gone mad," George said shaking his head as he walked around the room.
"Sure. Blame me for being wary of the murdering vampire…" Nina defended herself.
"Nina…" Annie intervened.
"Sorry. Former murdering vampire. Anyways, after what happened to you, and knowing that there's someone out there nearly posting 'Wanted' signs of you all around Bristol, to see him making a sacrifice to try to keep us all safe… Well, I can see why he's doing it. It's a royally flawed idea, but noble none the less. And believe me, my love, that if it was me," She continued getting closer to George and touching his cheek, only to turn to look at Annie briefly right before ending her explanation, "who was faced with having my friends, and my partner in danger, I can't say I wouldn't have done the same thing."
"Thank you Nina," Annie said smiling slightly and disappearing.
"Do you think she's okay?" Nina asked concerned.
"Well, she's so not her cheery self. But I think it's understandable."
"No, I mean… Doesn't she look pale to you?"
"That's offensive Nina, she's a ghost!"
"I know she's a ghost. But she looks… Ashen… More than normal… Grey even, and I'm not talking about her clothes."
George turned toward the kitchen entrance as if he could still see her and thought for a minute.
"She is a projection of her state of mind, and her emotions. I expect her cardigan to grow a hoodie by tea time," he said finally turning back.
"Her top is getting quite loose already. Why don't you go and talk to her?"
"If she gets to the fingerless gloves stage I will."
"And to think a year ago I was missing out on this wonderful world," Nina muttered to herself looking back to a pan full of scrambled eggs that were rapidly looking less and less appealing.
XXXXXXXX
Mitchell sat in the diner quietly looking into his cup of coffee. He was procrastinating; he should just march his way in the undertakers and get it over with. He mused over all those reassuring words to George and Annie about how he'd manage, but the reality was that he was scared. The grip on his thirst and his mind was already shaky on a daily basis at best.
He had checked himself into a cheap motel and he had given notice at the hospital. Whatever the outcome of what he was about to do, he knew he wouldn't be keeping his shifts as a porter.
He could have stayed another day in the pink house while he got his affairs sorted out, but he knew he'd lose his courage. At least he still had this loose end to deal with before he absolutely had to go to B. Edwards. He kept looking at the dark liquid while he waited and tried to guess forms in the bit of light reflected on the drink. Perhaps he'd find a secret message; the right combination of words to break a spell.
"You look like shit John." Daisy's voice broke his concentration as she pushed him to make space for her in the booth.
"Thank you Daisy. Your insight is always very astute," Mitchell commented caustically as he watched Ivan sit across from him.
"She's right. You look really bad my friend… Cherchez la femme, I'd say," he mentioned as he signalled the waitress for a cup of coffee.
"I don't want to talk about her. I'm going back to the funeral parlour."
"Such a shame! And to think I only came along hoping to hear about your necrophilic romps," Daisy said grimacing at the diner's menu she held.
Mitchell watched her with disdain but decided his time was too short to indulge in Daisy's taunting.
"Didn't you get the message? You want to get staked?" Ivan asked.
"I have no choice. And I'm not going to fight. I'm going to surrender."
His friend looked at him in silence for a few minutes.
"Are you sure?"
"It's the only way I can keep George and Annie safe," he replied finally giving up on the coffee.
"And who is going to make sure you're safe? Whoever is behind this has a score to settle with you," Ivan pointed out leaning over his crossed arms on the table.
"I was hoping you'd help me."
"Oh no Johnny boy!" Daisy interrupted once more. "Ivan and I are leaving. We stayed here too long."
"I'm afraid Daisy is right. I'm not a young man anymore. I got out of the vampire politics a long time ago. I just want to travel the world, have good food and better wine, see fine art, have my delicious wife with me."
"I could do with an ally," Mitchell explained.
"You know I was never the heroic type. This is not my war Mitchell."
"Okay. It was worth to try."
Ivan just nodded and with a simple look he motioned for Daisy to wait outside for him. Once she was gone he placed a couple banknotes on the table and slowly placed back his wallet in the inner pocket of his jacket.
"I'll tell you what. I'll keep tabs on you. Good luck my friend."
Ivan stood up and started walking towards the door only to stop abruptly midway. He turned around and came back to Mitchell's table.
"Why this Mitchell? I would have taken my woman and left. Why not get George to safety and travel the world with your ghost?"
"Because I don't want that for them. A life on the run," Mitchell replied looking up to Ivan.
"A life on the run with you."
"A calm and peaceful life without me sounds better," he said turning back to the table.
Ivan just nodded and left.
XXXXXXXX
Mitchell walked the last block leading to the funeral parlour like a man to the gallows. He left the car at Windsor Terrace with the keys next to the telephone. If his plan failed he wanted Annie and George to have every advantage on their side.
He entered the building only to find it deserted. He walked slowly concentrating on any sound coming from the back but he couldn't hear anything.
The front door bell caught him off guard and he turned to see a man of his height with short, dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes standing before him. He was wearing an expensive looking grey suit.
"Mitchell," he said finally as if they were old friends just recently reacquainted.
"Is it you then?" Mitchell said planting his feet firm on the ground.
"No pleasantries… This world is going to the dogs, isn't it?"
"You did enough introduction by post."
"You got my letters then," the man said smiling condescendingly.
"Who are you?" Mitchell asked visibly upset.
"Gabriel Caine."
"Is that supposed to mean anything to me?"
"Surprised someone's coming for payback? You have made peace with your past… Or your memory has gone bad."
"Quite the opposite… It's because of how clearly I remember my victims, and every single person I've hurt that I don't know who you are… Or is it that you've come to collect on someone else's name?" Mitchell inquired.
"You're clever. One thing I'll give pathetic old Bill: He struck gold with you."
"You knew him then?"
"You could almost say we were nursed by the same breast," he replied getting closer.
"Hettie?" Mitchell asked confused.
"My maker."
"Herrick never mentioned you."
"I'm not surprised. He wasn't one for honour, was he? A sore mistake of my… mother."
"I met Hettie. She never mentioned you either."
"We had a fall out. She loved pulling the innocent girl stunt. She was an artist. It wasn't just about the feeding; it was about crafting the right scene."
He walked past Mitchell and went behind the front desk to retrieve a bottle of whisky.
"Herrick was just a lowly legal clerk about to sell a defenceless little girl to a brothel. Middle aged, unambitious, pathetic little William," he continued his account as he served a couple of tumblers.
"And she decided to turn him in the last minute. After me," he paused, "after a century we had spent together. She made me train him. And along with the bloodlust he developed ambition. A born-again despot!" he remarked the last bit handing Mitchell the glass.
Mitchell listened in disbelief, his eyebrows knitted understanding how far back his damnation dated.
"What is it with our kind and the tragic romanticism?" he finally said rolling his eyes and shaking his head slowly.
"You're quite testy… Anyway…Cheers."
Mitchell drank the liquor in one swallow.
"Look mate. You don't like me obviously. I don't know if you've heard but I don't want part on any vampire take over master plan. I'm not carrying on Herrick's memory or anything."
"The last thing I want is to continue his foolish agenda. I should have thanked your lyco friend for doing me a favour."
"And your way to show your appreciation was almost killing him?"
"Well… He's a lyco after all," Caine said shrugging as he sipped from his glass.
"What do you want from me then?"
"You know what the problem with Herrick was?"
"Too many to count, but enlighten me."
"He was a pathetic excuse of a man and even worse vampire. I'll never understand what she saw in him. Vampires are chosen. It is an honour."
"Jesus Christ! Is this what it is all about? Cain and Abel? The prodigal son?"
"An altar boy until the end, eh?"
"Look. I see your point. He was off his rocker. He recruited me, but I can't say that I miss him. He threatened what I believed in and whom I loved and I'm glad he's dead. Now, can I go home and count on you leaving me and my family be?"
"Ah… George and… what's the name of your lovely grey pigeon?"
"Annie…" Mitchell replied reluctantly.
"Yes… I'm afraid that I need you to work for me."
"So you too are looking forward to vampires coming out and taking over the world?"
"For Christ sake no! That was Bill's megalomaniac aspirations. His plans had to be stopped or our kind would have been endangered."
"So what is the problem with us then?"
"Listen. Your friend beat me to the punch. I was coming for my dear… brother. I'm not going to lie and say that I would have liked to see his ugly face contort in pain. But him being dead doesn't settle the score. What better way to do it than taking over his organisation and his golden boy? He got one thing right though. He chose you wisely."
"I'm not going to be your puppet. I did that enough. Why can't you people just let me be?"
"Ah… the vampire that doesn't drink blood. What you don't get 'mate' is that you are a very great risk for us. I don't condone Herrick's way of life or his plans. I'm not a human lover but I see the benefit of not killing… much. There are hoards of them willing to… nurture us… But what you're doing my friend is dangerous. You're going to lose it one day and vampires will be front-page news. Sightings will be tweeted and we'll be extinct within a year. No… You'll be working for me. Properly feeding."
"You are certainly related to Herrick. This was clearly a mistake. I'm going home." Mitchell started to walk towards the door.
"No you're not. You leave this building and there won't be a merry little house to go home. Nor those lower life forms you live with."
As if on cue, five or six vampires came and surrounded Mitchell and Gabriel.
"You will not touch them," Mitchell threatened him invading his personal space.
"Oh, but I have already haven't I?" The elder vampire said grinning.
"You will never touch George again."
"I will. And I will cage that pretty ghost of yours as well."
"You can't."
"You really think so? What do you think will happen to her when I burn down the house, kill the lyco, and stake you? Do you think her door will appear, or will she fade into nothingness? Or better yet. I kill the lyco in front of her, and enslave you. I'll tell her that she needs to let me keep her if she wants you to live. Do you think she'll do it? I've heard wonders of rare exotic birds like her, turning down their doors and going poltergeist. I'm a bit of a collector you see…"
"No! Please don't."
"Will you comply then?"
"I'll do whatever you want. But I won't kill and I don't drink blood. And you leave them alone. My life for theirs."
"You will comply yes. But you will drink blood…. After I drink yours."
"What?"
"Take him."
"What are you doing?"
"Keeping the line pure, and proud, like it should have been."
Mitchell felt himself be subdued. He was taken to the preparation room in the back. He was strong but these vampires outnumbered him and they were properly fed. Gabriel came to him and wrapped his hand on his hair and pulled hard to the side in order to expose his neck.
"You should remember this," he said behind his obsidian eyes just before puncturing his skin with his fangs.
The act was despicable: the intimacy of a lover's passionate kiss intended to humiliate. He was transported back to that French field so many years before. He didn't dry him; it was barely enough to make him feel weakened and even thirstier than his bleakest days. Caine laughed loudly humiliating him further before ripping the skin of his own wrist with his bloody fangs. He didn't have to entice Mitchell to drink; he latched on as soon as it was close to his mouth.
The instinct to survive was always the first to kick in, and the last vestige of life to lose.
He felt the thick blood going down his throat and the taste made him nauseous. Decades later and he could taste Herrick's blood. This vampire and Herrick had shared the same source, the same curse. The same taste he was sure was detectable in his own blood, the same he had fed Lauren and Bernie.
A voice inside him laughed and cried when he remembered that he was made of the same bile as the monsters before him.
"Very well. That should be enough for you to remember to whom you belong. I expect you'll be keeping a better diet from now own. I have a surprise for you. I think you'll like her," Gabriel said as he left the room and signalled the others to follow.
Mitchell was thrown violently on a chair and left to sort through his confusion. Through messy hair and blurry sight he saw a darkened figure approaching. As it walked towards him its shape became clearer revealing the womanly curves. The enticing sway of hips brought her closer, and with it, the horror at the bounce of her curly hair.
Finally her face was close enough for him to notice the errors: green eyes and a freckled nose revealed the deceit. He laughed realising what his new tormentor had done.
Caine had gone too far. She wasn't a random prey, some unknown girl dragged into a dark alleyway. She was doing this voluntarily? Jesus Christ! Someone carefully chosen from some deviant site like it was a catalogue, selected for the warm colour of her skin, the dark tendrils of her hair. The bastard had gotten as far as getting the right tone of grey, leggings and knitted boots included.
Was the humiliation not enough? Was it really necessary to come to these lengths? He didn't want to think of her, the real her, if he came to a breaking point. Did he think this would entice him? Or was it just done for a laugh?
She wasn't right though. Her look was good only for one thing, to horrify him. Did they really believe a grey cardigan would make him hard?
When he looked around for the door he finally noticed they had left him alone with the girl. She straddled him and got so close to him that their lips were almost touching. Instead of kissing him she licked a bit of blood from the corner of his mouth and smiled seductively.
She wasn't supposed to like it. He had heard about people like her, he even knew some vampires who liked to keep that sort of… companions. But they were not supposed to be dominant. They were always docile, happy to serve a master. She was acting like a vampire but he could hear her pulse, it was enticing and he could almost swear that if it hadn't been for her attempt at passing for Annie he would be draining her.
Annie.
His Annie and not this girl.
They had given her the right clothes and told her how to style her hair, but she knew nothing of Annie. Everything about this woman was fake, her movements too studied, like stalking a prey when Annie would always be so painfully natural.
The rage came clear to him and his eyes went black. The girl may have taken them for something else and she bared her neck.
Mitchell pushed her off as he got to his feet. She was on the floor now with her hands hoisting her up and smiling still.
"Why would you do this?" he asked her with disgust.
"Who wouldn't want this?" she answered with another question as she got back up. "It's a fantasy."
"It's violent, it's painful, it's cold… but it's not a fantasy. Far from a fantasy sweetheart."
"Who said those things can't be my fantasy?"
"You were brought here for me to kill. It's a long and painful death. You'll be coldly aware of what is happening to you and you won't be able to do anything about it. And it will terribly humiliating. You'll be vulnerable in a very intimate moment. And I won't care at all. You can't tell me that is what you fantasized about. What are you getting out of it?"
"Truth. Power. Eternity," she said pacing around the room, dragging her long manicured nails on the steel of the plank where corpses were meant to rest.
"You want to be recruited?"
"Is that what you call it?" She asked looking at him through alluring eyes.
"What would you call it?"
"Enlightenment."
"If you think you'll wake up understanding the meaning of life you're sorely mistaken," Mitchell replied wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket.
"It's 42. I read the book. It's more than that and you know it."
Mitchell laughed.
"Do I look like her?"
"Do you have any idea who you're talking about?"
"I never saw her. He told me what to wear, how to do my hair. I know what he wants to… kick-start in you… I don't understand the fascination with grey. But who am I to criticize kinks, right?"
"And you're okay with it? With me using you as a stand-in for someone else? And repaying you with pain and death?"
"You're easy on the eyes. I could have done much worse," she replied shrugging.
Mitchell shook his head.
"You're not her. Take off those clothes."
"As you wish," she said starting to disrobe without evading his sight.
"Not here."
"Fine. But you'll eventually come to me. It may be my body, it may be my blood, but you'll come to get it," she paused for a second to give him a Cheshire cat smile. "And one of them is going to lead to the other," she finally said walking past him to leave the room.
"I will kill you."
"But Gabriel will bring me back," she remarked as she walked away exaggerating the sway of her hips.
XXXXXX
Annie finally gave up on moping around after a couple of days. Her mother used to tell her that the best thing to do to battle worry was to take action. Three days later she had managed quite a long list of things: She had rearranged the living room furniture and put it back after George had tripped with the sofa; she had alphabetised all the spices they owned; and read every book in the house.
Once those activities were done, she realised that maybe she should take action on something what would actually be useful, so she restarted her lessons with Sykes. He had read her aura and known something was making her go grey, she immediately had touched her hair worried, only to have Sykes reassure her that it wasn't that, but that her aura was showing great melancholy.
She had told him about Mitchell and they talked long about ghosts.
It was after that when she started walking the city at night. There was a lot of their talk that she needed to process, especially a question Sykes had asked her.
A question that could change things drastically.
Meanwhile he'd been watching her walk aimlessly through the night. It wasn't difficult to stay in the shadows to trail her; after all, it was his second nature. What could have convinced her that she was safe in the hours when everybody else was sleeping soundly in their beds and dreaming naively that the world was a good place?
In the hours when the sky begins to lighten she stopped by the river. Her hands on the rail and eyes closed inhaling the cold air.
She didn't see him coming.
The old fingers wrapped around the icy flesh and her eyes opened abruptly. She stared at her hand firmly held by his, with the familiar green knitted covering rubbing harshly and oh so familiarly the back of her hand.
"You shouldn't wander around alone at night. And you certainly shouldn't walk around with your eyes closed."
"What's going to happen to me?" she said looking back to the water.
"Nothing if I get it my way."
She turned to look at him but he kept his eyes forward.
"I didn't mean that," she said upset that he was twisting her words.
"I know," Mitchell said turning back to face her.
"You're still not coming back right?" Annie asked swallowing the bitter lump on her throat.
"I can't. I made a deal."
"Did he make you sign a scroll with a quill dipped in your blood? Those are historically bad ideas you know?"
He smiled at her joke. "No. I didn't sell my soul."
"What was it then?"
"You wouldn't believe how ridiculous all is."
"My life is the set up of a common three persons walked into a pub joke, try me."
"His name is Gabriel Caine. Hettie, Herrick's maker, recruited him. Caine hated him with a passion."
"Who wouldn't?"
"Indeed. Anyways, he wants to take over Bristol, piss on everything Herrick ever touched. Tarnish his… dear God… legacy."
"What does he want with you?" Annie asked without noticing that her hand was holding on to his shirtsleeve.
"Everything and everyone that Herrick touched. Jesus Christ! Is this how vampire plans sound? It's pathetic."
"Yes, pretty much," she replied smiling.
"I'm going to figure this out."
"Let's go. Grab George and Nina. Fuck the house and everything in it! We can run," Annie proposed getting closer to him and wrapping her arms around his waist.
Mitchell stared at her with a cautious smile, and then placed his hands on the sides of her face.
"And he'd find us. He'd find you. It's not worth it."
"You're a stupid Irish vampire." She said as she rested her head on his chest
"And yet you love me."
That made her look up at him and he took the opportunity to kiss her.
It lasted a few minutes until a thought became clear to Annie and she pushed him back.
"You taste of blood."
"I haven't killed anyone," he said apologetically.
"You haven't? Yet? Is that what you mean?" Annie said pushing him back.
"I tried Annie. I couldn't stop him. It was his blood and it was vile."
"How can I know that you will be safe?" She asked now more worried than before.
"You'll have to trust me."
Those had been the last words he told her then. He embraced her and she tried with all her might to enjoy his presence before he had to leave.
But her worrying thoughts had been too many to ignore.