Playing Dead: Book One of The Whitechapel Chronicles

Chapter 36

"You know the thing to remember about the Varúlfur, Megan?" Harper said talking to me but not wrenching his eyes away from Rick. "They're pack creatures at heart. Unstoppable as a group; not so effective when on their own."

He tossed the knife over which landed with a clunk at my feet and I quickly retrieved it, watching the Varúlfur warily as I bent down. Reaching inside his jacket, Harper withdrew another blade, slightly smaller than the one I now held, but still with that vicious jagged edge capable of cutting through the toughest of flesh.

The creature stopped clutching at the seeping wound in its back and it hunched over slightly, its amber eyes narrowing to slits and darting from Harper then back to me. It grinned, but I could hear its harsh short breaths and saw that its great muscular chest was pumping harder than it had before.

Harper took a step to the right and then another, his feet barely making a sound as he carefully manoeuvred so that the Varúlfur was between us. I stepped forward, mirroring his moves and the creature soon had to turn its head so that it could look from one to the other. For the first time that night, I noticed a flicker of uncertainty cross its eyes as it clearly wasn't sure which one of us to focus on.

Harper continued to stalk round the yard, but I saw him glance at me briefly noting my stance and position and offering me a small perfunctory nod of the head. He smiled a cold smile full of undiluted malevolence. "Vampires, on the other hand, we are skilled individually and we are quicker in one on one combat, less hindered by a cumbersome bulk. Stealth and agility are our allies. We circle our prey. Take fast small bites."

As soon as he said it, the Varúlfur's head whipped round clearly believing Harper to be the one who would strike and therefore the biggest threat and just when its back was turned, I jumped forward and lashed out with the knife, cutting a path through the flesh on its upper arm which immediately gushed with blood. The creature howled and spun back to face me, glaring in fury as it gripped the open wound with one big, gnarled hand and again as it turned, Harper leaped forward and swiped his blade downwards, slicing through its thigh and making the Varúlfur spin round again to clutch at its damaged leg. My blade cut into its back, just above the deep wound Harper had made and blood sprayed across my face, dripping down onto my lips and I quickly spat out the foul taste and jumped back just before its great hand could reach for me.

We carried on like this for a short time, slicing and slashing as we both jumped in turn and took those small bites, never enough to kill, but enough that an impressive amount of Varúlfur blood was spilling out onto the ground and plenty to weaken and disorientate it. And the weaker and more disorientated it got, the more I saw Rick creeping through again, his face contorting and one eye plagued with flecks of blue. It lashed out with its clawed hand, never hoping to reach us, but more as a defensive manoeuvre should either of us get too close as it tried to regain its composure.

It was limping now, one of its hind legs treading gingerly on the ground as it moved, snarling and spitting, frantically glaring at us and trying to dodge our attacks. On the other side of the creature, I could see Harper, his face set in a grim line and his eyes blazing with the blackest zeal. His movements were considered, animalistic and inspired. It was both wonderful and yet completely terrifying to watch as he circled the beast, never taking his eyes off the Varúlfur. Whatever I saw, the creature clearly saw it too and it turned as if to face Harper and devote what energy it possessed to deal with the stronger vampire.

I grinned and leaped forward, already too close when I saw Harper's eyes widen in alarm and even closer still when I realised the Varúlfur was all too aware that I would attempt to attack it when it's back was turned and was already sweeping it's huge arm around, a triumphant awful howl escaping it's dribbling mouth, as it made contact with me, it's glass-shard claws scraping across my chest and sending me flying backwards. Pain seared across my skin and I knew that my t-shirt was already soaked with my own blood. My head slammed into the ground and I blinked, feeling the blackness creeping in and momentarily stunned by the juddering impact.