Playing Dead: Book One of The Whitechapel Chronicles

Chapter 27

The canal waters gurgled slowly under the bridge and somewhere I could hear water drip, drip, dripping like the maddening constant drip of a tap you could never turn off. I sat with my back against the damp wall, knees tugged tight into my chest and the bodies of the two men nearby, silent and still. Footsteps echoed towards me and stopped and I didn't need to look up to know that it was him. When I did finally raise my head, Harper was studying me carefully; his face impassive and he only looked away when I wiped away a single tear that spilled down my dirt-stained cheek.

He walked over to the body of the man lying on the edge and hooking his foot under him, he pushed and the body rolled and fell into the dark waters with a muted splash.

"Dispose of your trash, Megan," he said coldly surveying me.

I stared at him, wide-eyed. "What?" I gasped.

"Do you wish to leave him there for the Varúlfur to sniff out? Your scent is all over him. They'll know it was a vampire kill and you'll lead them directly to us. Let the canal take his body and let’s go home."

"Home? You call that pit our home?"

"It's all you have right now so I'm sorry if it will never grace the covers of any glossy interior design magazines, but if you wish to find yourself somewhere else to live, please be my guest. I've never been fond of cohabiting anyway and besides it will be amusing to see just how long you manage to survive on your own."

I clenched my fists and glared at him; the rage simmering just below the surface and desperate to break free and shove him into the grasping hands of the waters. He raised an eyebrow in silent challenge.

"Fine," I snarled and taking a deep breath, I jumped to my feet and pulled the man by his legs over to the edge. With both hands, I pushed him and watched as his body plunged into the blackness and was soon consumed by the sluggish water as if it was being sucked down by the mouths of great aqueous beasts. The last thing to disappear was his face; his eyes staring in horror as if his trials were only just beginning and he feared whatever lay waiting beneath the surface.

Harper moved to my side and spoke low, almost conspiratorially. "Lesson one: Always get rid of them. Water is best. Fire is sometimes necessary. Bury them at a last resort. But always, always dispose of them."

"Wait. There was another...” I started, pointing in the direction of where the other man had fled.

"Don't worry, he didn't get very far. Soon his body will join that of his friends," Harper shrugged.

"But three dead bodies washed up in the canal, surely....."

"By that time, any traces of us will have been washed away and they will be just three John Does tagged and bagged at the mortuary."

"And you really think no one will ask questions?"

"Well they certainly won't be asking those questions of us, if at all. Megan, understand this: no one cares for the likes of these men. They live under every social radar. The homeless are invisible; nobody sees them and nobody wants to see them. The police will assume it was drugs, a deal gone wrong maybe, but trust me when I say that it will not be worth their time. They will write up their reports and file them away and hopefully by that time, we won't still be here waiting for someone to find us. Now please can we go?"

With a furious shake of my head, I turned and walked away, rubbing frantically at my face and trying to remove all traces of blood from my lips and skin. I had hoped quelling my thirst would quell my anger, but my head was pounding with pure rage and white noise rushed into my ears, like the angry buzzing of a swarm engulfing me. I heard Harper calling me but I couldn't stop. I couldn't be near him. He disgusted me with his cold ambivalence and his patronising lessons on how to be a good fucking vampire.