The Vampire Gene (7 page)

"Really? Cool!"

"We need to fetch some stuff from the estate anyway," said Fergus. "There are a few firearms that our father had stashed away that we could probably use, and I have some surveillance and communication equipment we will definitely need. And our coats," he said, and exchanged a glance with me and Marcus.

"About Jack," I interrupted, frowning slightly at the two planners.

"Sorry," they chorused. Julia cleared her throat quietly, and started speaking, hesitantly at first but then with greater confidence.

"Jack, as you probably know by now, is my brother. We were born towards the end of the rule of George the Third, Jack first, and then me three years later. We had two younger sisters, Anne and Lizzy.
" She stopped suddenly, as if just mentioning their names was painful, but then she swallowed convulsively and continued.

"
Jack was always pushing the boundaries of vampirism. He was a lot like our father that way. My father had met my mother a couple of years before Jack was born, and by all accounts he had settled down a lot by the time we came along, but there were always hushed whispers about what he used to be like and the things he had done. No open accusations, of course - everyone was terrified of him. We were too, although we never really knew exactly why. He just seemed to have this aura of menace about him, even when he tried to be kind to us." She paused again, as if she really did not want to go on.

"When Jack turned thirteen, he started behaving strangely. He would disappear for months at a time, and return in the middle of the night, clothes filthy and stained with blood, and a terrible hunger in his eyes. My father was the only one who could control him then. One day he came home when my father wasn't there, and he attacked my mother."

Lines of sorrow etched her face as she continued, speaking in a monotone.

"He made us watch, three little girls aged seven, nine and ten, as he beat her and did other unspeakable things to her, over and over. And when he was finally done, and she lay broken on the floor, he turned to us and promised us the same when next he returned. And then he was gone."

"My father returned to find his adored wife near death, and he swore to kill Jack with his own hands. We were never in the same place for longer than a few months after that. He dragged his little family around Europe, and then Asia, hunting Jack. My mother healed physically, as all iron metabolisers do, but she withdrew into a cold, mute shell, and I was left to raise myself and my sisters as best I could. The only thing our father contributed was that he taught us how to fight vampires. He taught us how to incapacitate and kill them, and how to use swords and knives and crossbows. It was only after he died that I realised what an efficient killing machine he had been, and I wondered how he had achieved that remarkable level of expertise. I never did find out."

She paused again, and the room fell silent. All eyes were on her face as she continued.

"Jack reappeared one night as we all slept in a small rural inn in Russia. I was eighteen then, and had started metabolising iron two years before. I was strong, much stronger than I am now, but I was no match for Jack even then. He murdered my mother and my father and took Anne and Lizzy. I never saw them again. Sometimes I hope they're still alive, and sometimes I think it would be better for them if they had died that night."

She finished her narrative then, and stared down at her hands which were clasped together on the table, as if she was somehow ashamed of what had happened to her family, and of her heritage.
I sensed that there was much that she had left unsaid, as images of what had happened that night flickered through her mind. I flinched slightly at the brutality of their encounter, and realised then that Oliver was not only aware of what had happened back then, but that he was a lot older than we had initially assumed. A
lot
older.

Marcus stood and went to stand behind her chair. He laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder, but his expression was hard.

"Jack will die soon, I promise you," he said, and for a second he looked like the vampire that he was.

Rebecca

Fergus and Marcus left that evening to fetch their equipment, and to run a few tests on Simon's DNA. Julia and Oliver had also donated some blood, and Marcus had promised to run their samples through his machines as soon as the current crisis had blown over. Julia and I sat in comfortable silence in the sitting room in front of a roaring fire, while Angus and Oliver discussed tactics and weapons. Julia would occasionally add to their conversation, but I was hypnotised by the flames in the grate, and had nothing to say. Instead I wondered how long it would take me to learn to control that jolt of electricity that had flattened James. I was also finding it hard to reconcile what had happened earlier in the day with how I felt about it all. On the one hand I was relieved and grateful that I had been able to get myself out of that situation, but I was also afraid of how destructive I had been. Seriously, I had scared myself. And now, despite Julia's earlier words, I wondered which of these views I had of myself were the real one. Was I the nice nerdy girl who loved her family and her gorgeous
fiancé? Or was I the vicious vampire who had nearly killed two people today, and had derived so much satisfaction in all that hurting?

Angus must have sensed my disquiet, because he stood suddenly and came over to where I sat curled up on the sofa.

"Tired, my beautiful girl?" he asked softly.

I smiled up at him, my eyes brimming with tears at his gentleness and obvious sympathy, and nodded. He winked at me and turned to Julia and Oliver again, and excused the two of us. Julia nodded, and even Oliver smiled at me. Angus took my hand and led me up some stairs to a large airy suite, with two bedrooms leading off a small sitting room, and a large bathroom with marble and big fluffy towels. I stood, feeling slightly numb, in the middle of the sitting room
while Angus ran a hot bath.

"I had a shower earlier," I objected half-heartedly when he tugged me in the direction of the bath.

"It will help you relax. I'll give you five minutes, then I'm coming to wash your back." He closed the bathroom door behind him as he left.

I undressed mechanically, and slid into the bubbles, and lay back, letting the hot water and steam soothe aching muscles. I closed my eyes, and watched the day's events play again across my mind like a horror film, with me in the starring role.

"Tell me." Angus had entered the bathroom so silently that I hadn't even been aware of his presence. He rolled his shirt sleeves up and started rubbing my shoulders. Bliss. I started telling him of everything that had happened to me that day, and everything I had done, leaving nothing out.

Angus

I knew it would be difficult to listen to Rebecca's account of what had happened to her today. But it was much, much worse than I had imagined. It was excruciating.

I knew that she had done well to escape from those two villains who had stolen her from me, but when I heard the anguish in her voice when she described what she had had to do to get out of the situation, I felt nothing but contempt and rage for the two of them.

And when she told me of what Eric had said to her when she had woken up from her drugged state, and how he had touched her while she lay there helpless, I knew he was going to die very soon. There was no way I would be able to stop myself from killing him.

And then she told me about their intentions - they were going to sell her to Jack, and they had both known exactly what this had implied for her.

I remember fleetingly thinking that Julia might be upset when the dismembered body of her brother-in-law was eventually found. I decided that this could not be allowed to happen.

I would make sure nobody ever found it.

Rebecca

Angus had been right. I felt much better after the bath. Whether it was due to the heat and bubbles, or to the sympathetic ear I poured my day into, I couldn't tell. And then there were the warm massaging hands. They
definitely
helped.

He told me something that night before he kissed me goodnight. He said that what I felt in reaction to what I had had to do that day was normal, and that eventually it would fade with time. He also suggested that a technique that he had used in the past to cope with what the vampire in him did and felt. Compartmentalisation. All I had to do was put the vampire away in a metaphorical box, or maybe a titanium-lined crate, and carry on living my normal life. When I needed it, I could release it, and use it like I would an instrument, or an agent of destruction.

It was a comforting concept, and when I fell asleep that night I was plain old Rebecca again.

Angus

As soon as she was asleep, I called Fergus. He informed me that he was still mucking about at the estate, gathering bits and pieces of equipment, and trying to fit it all into the Bentley. Marcus was off somewhere running Simon's blood through one of his analysers.

"I'm going to need some stuff," I started, as he muttered something about hiring a van in the middle of the night.

"I can only imagine," said Fergus dryly. "Firearms? Body bags?"

"A van for starters."

"You and me both. I absolutely cannot fit this hard drive in the boot - it will have to go on the back seat. Lord alone knows where Marcus' stuff is supposed to fit. I will have to get a van. Give me twenty minutes. Anything else?"

"The names and addresses of the men who abducted Rebecca. One has a burn in the shape of a handprint on his wrist, as you know, and the other has a bite out of his right wrist."

"Hospitals then. Your young lady is getting feistier by the day."

"She was always feisty. But now she's a feisty vampire, and there are consequences for those who try to harm her."

"Clearly," said Fergus. "I bet some of those consequences are going to catch up with them tonight."

"Absolutely," I spoke softly, allowing the menace I felt to creep into my voice. "Twenty minutes?"

"Make it thirty," he said and hung up.

I went back to our suite. I dug around in my bag and found some black leather gloves and dark clothes, which I slipped into as quietly as I was able. The soft regular breathing from Rebecca's room reassured me that I had not awoken her. I considered taking the Glock, but decided I wouldn't need it. I was more than a match for any human. I slid a tub of iron tablets into my pocket - the only weapon I would need tonight.

I was back outside when Fergus phoned again.

"I am brilliant," he stated flatly. "A van will be delivered to you within an hour, and those two cretins were seen and treated at the local hospital. I'll text you their addresses. Have fun tonight, brother. And hurt them a little bit extra for me, won't you?"

"Will do," I grinned into the phone.

The van was delivered forty minutes later. I met it halfway down the long driveway, reluctant to alert the occupants of the house behind me. They did not need to know of tonight's activities. The driver of the van was a supremely disinterested young man with long greasy hair and a couple of facial piercings. He seemed pleasant enough, though, and rapidly explained the controls of the anonymous-looking dirty white van. He asked me for a quick lift to a nearby bus stop, where he was due to meet a colleague, whatever that meant. I obliged, and he thanked me politely as he clambered out of the vehicle, and gave me a cheery wave as I drove off. Nice kid.

I pulled to the side of the road briefly as a beep from my phone signalled an incoming message. Fergus had sent the addresses of both my targets, as well as Eric's rather extensive criminal history. The police would have a fit if they knew how easy it was for Fergus to access all this information. I scrolled through the documents. Eric was an unrepentant recidivist, his favourite victims were the weak and vulnerable -
mostly lonely older people. He also had a thing for underage girls, it seemed. My resolve to punish him strengthened. Eric's sordid past had effectively sealed his future.

James Colborne was different. Not only had he remained outside the law, evading any official recognition of his activities, but he managed to juggle a career as a banker with his career as a criminal. I chuckled. Recent global opinion would suggest that the terms "banker" and "criminal" were almost synonymous. I wouldn't argue - I had met a couple of dozen bankers with some seriously twisted tastes.

None of this mattered much tonight. The fact that these two individuals were a drain on society made very little difference - they had abducted my Rebecca with the intention of selling her into the worst kind of slavery. I thought of the images that had flickered through Julia's mind earlier, and shuddered.

They would die for that.

I entered Eric's address into the satnav and pulled back onto the road, driving mechanically as I followed the monotonous instructions. Eric lived in a local estate, and I decided to drive around it for a few minutes before I pulled up a few doors down from his place. It was about ten minutes to midnight, and the place was deserted, the cold weather having driven everyone indoors. I stepped out of the van and quietly clicked the door shut. Eric's place appeared surprisingly neat, with a trimmed lawn out front, and newly painted window panes. The light downstairs was on, and the faint sound of what could have been a car chase filtered outside. I tapped on the front door with the knuckles of my right hand, and waited.

"Hello?" Eric opened the door wide, obviously unafraid of any potential threats. I smiled at him and pushed him backwards, my hand on his throat, squeezing just enough to make breathing uncomfortable for him. His eyes widened, and he seemed genuinely puzzled by the intrusion. I kicked the door shut behind me, and glanced around. The place looked like an Ikea catalogue, apart from the massive flat screen television that dominated the tiny sitting room. Crime clearly did pay.

I turned my attention back to Eric, whose mouth was now opening and closing, making him look like a fat, pale goldfish. His eyes were bulging too, making the resemblance almost uncanny. I realised that I was squeezing his neck a bit too hard, so I eased off, and he stopped gasping and tried to speak.

"Shh," I told him. "We can talk later. Do you have any garden chairs?"

He nodded, looking puzzled, and indicated over his shoulder towards a sliding door that led to a small back garden. I nodded at him, and adjusted my grip to compress both carotids, those big arteries that carry blood to the brain, and his eyes rolled back in his head as the blood flow to his brain was suddenly cut off. I let him slump to the floor, and stepped over his unconscious body. The sliding door opened easily, and I retrieved a fold up camping chair from below the awning just outside the door. I tucked it under my arm and quietly shut the door behind me, and settled on an overstuffed leather couch to await Eric's return to consciousness.

His snores became less regular eventually and his eyes fluttered open, growing wide as he realised what had happened. I loomed over him and smiled coldly.

"We are going for a drive. You will come quietly, or I will hurt you. I will give you a small demonstration, just in case you don't understand what I can and will do to you."

I leaned over him and squeezed his right forearm, just above the thick bandage that encased his wrist, snapping both bones easily. My other hand covered his mouth, muffling the scream. I waited for a while, letting the warning sink in. Eventually his breathing settled and reason returned to his eyes. I reached out into his mind and felt only resignation. Good.

"You ready?"

He nodded slowly. I removed my hand from his mouth. He opened his mouth as if to speak, and I frowned a warning. He closed it again. I stood back as he struggled to his feet, and followed him to the front door. As he turned the doorknob with his left hand, I gently clasped his right forearm, not hard enough to really hurt, but just as a subtle reminder of the potential ramifications of trying to alert any neighbours or bystanders. He flinched, but said nothing. We crossed the tiny lawn outside his house and walked in silence to the rented van. I opened the passenger door and indicated for him to get inside. He complied without a sound. I shut the door after him and walked around to the drivers door, and climbed into the seat. Eric was struggling to buckle his seatbelt, so I took it from his hand and snapped it into place.

"Is this about the girl?" he asked as I put the van into first and pulled away from the kerb.

"Yes," I said without looking at him.

"I deserve this," he said. "I have done bad things, terrible things. She wasn't the only one. You do what you need to do. I get it." The words came out in a rush. I could sense the sincerity behind them, the liberation he felt in uttering them, the release he expected from me.

" I need information," I said flatly.

"About the last job?" he looked at me. I nodded.

"James Colborne contacted me a few days ago. I do a few jobs for him now and then - he pays well, and doesn't expect too much. Anyway, he said he had this deal lined up. He had a long term contact, guy by the name of Jack, who had a standing order for a certain type of girl. James said he'd delivered one a few years ago, and he'd heard that another one was going to be visiting his brother's house this weekend. He wanted to set up a meeting with her, and take her. Jack was supposed to meet us later today at the workshop Colborne owned. But the girl escaped, and Colborne and I had to go to hospital. Colborne apparently left a message for Jack on his mobile, telling him it had all gone pear shaped. Complete bloody disaster, the whole thing. She bit me, you know, severed some tendons and nerves in my wrist. Doctors say my hand will probably never work properly again. I'm supposed to be having surgery on it tomorrow." He stopped suddenly, and chuckled. "Guess I don't need to worry about that now."