Vampire "Untitled" (Vampire "Untitled" Trilogy Book 1) (23 page)

The phone booth felt safe; the thing in the snow
wouldn’t move until he did, he felt sure of that.

“I’m not dreaming this, am I?” he whispered as a fact.
He recalled seeing the vampire on the balcony and finding the crucifix there.
He had concocted an elaborate story in his head that he had killed Ildico and
had taken that cruciform. The reality was far simpler. The vampire had visited
and left it there. The vampire was real. Paul was wide awake and looking at it
and it was looking back at him.

Paul took the flashlight and stepped back from the
kiosk. He shone the beam, holding it at arm’s length towards the vampire. It
was just out of reach, obscured by the snowfall, but when the light caught its
eyes they reflected back like a cat. Reflective beads of red eyes.

“Are you going to speak to me?” Paul asked in a
murmur.

The vampire moved. It stepped forward in a single
stride. Involuntarily, Paul stepped back. The vampire’s next stride was faster.
It was going to run, it was going to attack. Something told him, somehow he
knew, he just knew, it was instinct. This thing was going to kill him right
now. It stepped, leaned forward, opened its arms, rested low on its haunches as
though preparing to spring forward. He didn’t see it exactly, but Paul felt it
snarl; and this time, it felt more real and more dangerous and more determined
than ever to harm him. This thing was real and it was going to rip him to
pieces.

----- X -----

He
was running, sprinting. Part of his mind, the sane rational part was telling
him that there was nothing there, that he’d imagined it, but when he’d glanced
back across his shoulder he saw it running like a shadow through the snowfall.

Paul shut off the flashlight and ran with barely any
illumination into thick weather. He could see the windows along the edges of
the blocks and he knew roughly where he was, but there seemed no escape here.
He couldn’t hope to get back into the block or up the stairs without being
caught.

Then there was a moment as though none of this was
happening.

Paul eased down to a jog, still keeping the flashlight
switched off. He looked behind and saw nothing. He stopped and turned,
deliberately marking the turn so as not to become disoriented.

Through the snowfall he saw movement.

Paul crouched down and tried to quiet his breathing.
The naked man was easier to see. His skin was as white as the snow they were
walking on and even though there was nothing but starlight, it was enough to
give him an iridescent glow. He was walking, not running, but the bearing was
off and if he didn’t change direction the vampire would pass by to Paul’s left.

There was something magnificent in the image like it
was a scene from a classic movie. This man was naked, powerfully built and
fierce, but he was walking through the snowfall with a peaceful, almost angelic
demeanour. By heading in the wrong direction it made him look blind and somehow
innocent.

The vampire stopped and tilted its head skywards. Snow
drifted down around it.

Paul slowly backed away, keeping the thing in his
sight until it had almost vanished into the weather. He recognised the communal
bins behind him. The bins were surrounded on three sides by a rough, concrete
wall. If he could get around that, he had some cover from the vampire and he
could get away silently.

With careful steps and even more care not to lose his
bearings, Paul edged back along the wall. He stopped to scrutinise the vampire
that was almost entirely obscured by the falling snow. It was still close,
perhaps only twenty yards away. If he were to switch on the flashlight he would
see it perfectly, but he wasn’t prepared to give away his own position.

It was moving again. He could see the outline more
than the figure. It was moving and... Oh, fuck. It was coming towards him.

Paul turned back and ran in a crouch as fast and
silently as he could all the way to the block. He didn’t look back until he got
to the door. There was nothing behind him but that didn’t mean the thing wasn’t
just around the corner, following from the courtyard.

As he stepped into the block Paul’s hand instinctively
reached for the light switch but stopped short. The stairwell was as black and
unlit as the deepest coal mine except for a tiny blue bulb inside what must be
an emergency light by the entrance. Paul had never noticed it before and for a
few seconds he had the terrifying thought that he’d entered the wrong block. He
switched on the flashlight and recognised his surroundings. With the beam lit,
he leapt up the stairs two at a time to the first landing and shut off the
light.

He couldn’t move until he was certain it wasn’t following.

For a short while he felt as though he had the
situation under control. He was here on the stairs, ahead of the game and only
a few seconds away from the apartment. But then he remembered Ildico. A sudden
recollection that she had invited herself and he’d agreed. That meant she would
be coming here in the snow, walking through the courtyard where that thing was
lurking.

The big metal door to the block made a squeaking noise
as it opened.

Paul held his breath as he tried to see. It was
impossibly dark other than the tiny power-on indicator of the emergency lamp.

The door opened and a figure stepped into the lobby.
The door closed behind them. They did not turn on the light.

Ildico would have turned on the light.

As quietly as he could he began up the stairs, backing
away slowly without moving his eyes from the lobby. He went as far as he could
before he lost sight. He had to get up these stairs and lock himself inside,
keep the vampire outside on the staircase... Ildico was coming. Oh, fuck. She
would walk straight into it!

No time to think on it. He ran on tiptoes to the
apartment, doing his best to keep quiet. The keys jangled with an inordinate
amount of noise as he got them into the lock and twisted them. The door opened.
He stepped inside and closed the door almost fully except for the last few
inches.

When he looked out behind him onto the stairwell it
was almost entirely black. With the door only inches from closed he had the
confidence to turn on the flashlight. It would take a tenth of a second to slam
the door.

He turned on the beam.

At the bottom of the last set of stairs to his front
door, the vampire was walking. It was looking straight at him. It was walking,
not running. It didn’t have to run. He’d cornered himself. It knew exactly
where he was.

Paul watched the latch click shut as he closed the
door. He examined it closer, it was a piece of shit lock that wouldn’t stand up
to much force. He moved to the kitchen and shut the flashlight off, he put it
on the counter and grabbed the big knife to defend himself.

He could sense it right outside the front door. He
didn’t dare look through the spy hole, nor did he need to. He knew it was
there.

He backed away slowly into the lounge. The candles
were still burning. He snuffed them and left the lights off to hide in
darkness.

Ildico was coming. She would have to take her chances.
That thought made him sick in his stomach. His heart was already pounding, his
shirt sweat through and his hands shaking, but the thought of sitting here
scared whilst Ildico was attacked was too cowardly to allow. He backed himself
into the far corner and crouched down holding the knife ahead of him.

He strained his hearing, trying to pick out any sound
at all. If he heard Ildico shout, he would come out. That was the rationale; if
he heard Ildico being attacked outside of his door, he would come out with this
knife to help.

Then he realised that it wasn’t Ildico who was in
danger. From the far corner of the room, he could see the entrance to the
lounge but not the entrance to the apartment; yet without being able to see, he
knew, he just knew, that the vampire was now inside the door.

The moment of truth was arriving. Please Ildico,
arrive now. Ring the bell so it goes away.

Looking across the room he could see smoke rising in
little eddies from the extinguished candle wicks. The eddies of smoke stopped
swirling about four feet from the ground and made a fine layer of mist across
the room.

The vampire stepped into the darkened lounge and
looked at him.

It was really here. Standing only a few feet away. In
darkness, it was the eyes which could be seen more than the man. Those eyes
glowed as though they collected every last photon of light in the room and
reflected it back.

Paul tried to say, ‘you’re not real’, but it came out
as an unintelligible croak. The vampire stepped carefully towards him
disturbing the layer of smoke. “You’re not real. You’re not real. I know you’re
not really here. I’m just imagining it.”

The vampire stood over Paul. He knew he could try and
stab it in the leg but the action would be lost and wasted.

“You’re not real.”

He cried, tears beginning to stream. It was the end
and he could feel himself giving up. There was nowhere to run. He was pinned to
a wall. The creature ahead of him was impossible to defeat in any physical
sense. “You’re not even real.” he croaked again.

The vampire wrapped its fingers around his coat and
lifted him up the wall to go eye to eye.

It was hopeless. Terrifying. Excruciating. He wouldn’t
let it torment him or kill him but he was out of options.

“Leave me alone!” he yelled as he cut across its
shoulder. The vampire stared at him blankly, impassively. “You’re not even
real.” Paul made a hard slice on its shoulder again, cutting firmly across the
trapezius muscle between shoulder and neck.

The vampire grabbed his hand with the knife and
squeezed, crushing his fingers. It was painful. So painful. He wanted to cry
out but couldn’t. He wanted to yell at it again, say it wasn’t real, deny its
existence. But it was here, pressed against him, crushing his hand. He couldn’t
deny it any longer.

The vampire was real.

Vampires really exist.

----- X -----

Opening
the door was hard. He knew it was Ildico, he just didn’t want to see her. He
did and he didn’t. He wanted someone to be with him, he needed reassurance. He
didn’t want her to see his face banged up. He’d taken his shirt off to try and
stem the blood running from the wound on his shoulder. He didn’t want her to
see him like this.

Reluctantly, he turned the lock. He needed help, his
cognition was still intact enough to see that, he knew rationally he needed
someone to help him; but with these bloody injuries he was embarrassed.

“Hi, I’m glad you ca... Oh, My God! What happened?”

Paul couldn’t find any words or any impetus to speak.
He made a very slight shrug and a miniscule shake of the head. He stared down.
He didn’t want to talk about it.

Ildico came into the apartment with haste and closed
the door. Her coat was coming off, she was leading him to the bathroom,
unrolling toilet paper and pressing it to his shoulder.

“What happened?” she asked several times.

“I think I cut myself,” Paul said sheepishly,
humiliated. “I can’t really explain it.”

Ildico pressed a wad of toilet tissue to the wound on
his shoulder and placed his hands over it for him to apply pressure. “I mean to
your face, what happened to your face?” she added. “You look like a big
accident.”

“Oh, that.” Paul almost grinned. Almost. He didn’t
quite have the energy to smile but the answer somehow alleviated the shame.
“That was Nealla.” On saying his name Ildico visibly shrunk as a small but
significant part of her collapsed in defeat. She leaned back and sat down on
the toilet, using it as a chair. Her elbows rested in her lap and her head hung
low as she mumbled something in Romanian. “But don’t worry about Nealla,” Paul
continued. “He’s nothing, he’s... beaten.”

Ildico looked up at Paul then scanned the bathroom.
There were blood drops splashed in the sink and a few spots on the mirror. The
kitchen knife was propped behind the taps to the sink. “What happened to your
neck?” she asked looking at the knife.

Paul shrugged and looked away. He looked to the
vampire standing only three feet to his left. He made eye contact with it; they
stared at each other for a few seconds knowing Ildico couldn’t see anyone else
in the bathroom. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Paul said.

“Do you have something to make this, to cover it?” She
motioned to the bleeding wound.

“I have a first-aid kit in the bedroom, I’ll get it.”

“No. I’ll get it,” Ildico said, going quickly.

Paul leaned back against the wall. The cold of the
tiles against his skin brought pain and discomfort but he had little strength
to move away, there was no reflex action or impulse. He listened to Ildico
rummaging in the bedroom. Poor girl, he thought, having to put up with this
shit.

As he leaned against the wall he examined his face in
the mirror. Except it wasn’t his real face, it had his features but there were
traits of the vampire’s face in there too. He looked bruised and swollen, his
lips in particular looked fat and an angry welt by his left eye was prominent,
but beyond that his skin was draining of colour and he couldn’t see details to
his eyes. They were becoming two dark holes. Windows of the soul. Windows you
wouldn’t want to look into.