Sensitive to the Light Immortal Bloodlines I

Sensitive to the Light (Chapter 25)

“Arthek?” he said in amazement, “Is it really you? I thought you were dead...”

“It was close old friend,” Arthek replied, “Too close. Jenifry saved me,” he pulled the diminutive dark haired girl closer to him as she gave an embarrassed smile.

“I didn’t save you old man,” she chastised, “I saved myself.  My father wiped out the Cornish clan - the first house,” she explained.  “He didn’t know I was in cahoots with them - that Art and I had eloped a month beforehand.” She shook her head sadly, “I returned from a trip to the market to find the others dead and Art barely holding on so I gave him my blood.”

“And here we are over a thousand years later, and she still won’t let me hear the end of it,” Arthek chuckled.

It was strange that in so much chaos, these two Vampires gave me hope. Hope that if we actually survived this doomsday, that we could have some semblance of a normal life together - up until now, I didn’t know if Vampires even had lasting relationships, and it wasn’t exactly the best thing to ask after only having known someone for a week.

Lost in my thoughts yet again, I found myself being gently tugged back towards the center of the room where Arthek and Jenifry had already joined the throng.  Bette appeared in front of us with two large glasses of brandy and a packet of cigarettes which we gratefully took, Callan downing his drink in one.

“What?” I asked, noticing that she was giving Callan an odd look, as if she was trying to figure him out,

“He’s got a plan.”

* * * * * *  * * * * * *  * * * * * *

Dawn came and went without a fuss, the October Sun settling itself low in the sky, shining half heartedly through the mist which curled menacingly between the trees, its smoky tendrils reaching out towards the mansion where we could do nothing but wait.  It seemed to creep through the very walls of the ancient building and for a fleeting moment I caught the stench of sulphur from my dream.

“Run!” I screamed as the fog settled its icy fingers around my heart and the world around us turned black.

Callan took the lead as we raced towards Abergavenny, leaping over hedges and ditches with ease while the ground beneath us shook and an ear-splitting cracking sounded from behind us.  Looking back, I saw great fracture lines running up the mountains as they began to crumble away.

The entire town was in a blind panic - it was perfect - I had already resolved to put aside any guilt about blood drinking in the name of survival, and the scent of so much fear set my teeth on edge with hunger and bloodlust.  Without a second thought I grasped the nearest person by the collar, snapping their neck and draining them dry before continuing uphill after the others.

In essence, Callan’s plan was to keep feeding; if we stayed at the mansion then sooner or later we’d all succumb to exhaustion, but drawing the Hounds towards the town served a dual purpose.  Blood for us, and a lot of damned souls to keep them busy.

We stood at the summit of the town, a single line of resistance against Hell itself.  We were all armed in one way or another, the men with the swords they had carried and fought with in their heyday, the most impressive being MacArthur’s Broadsword; thick and heavy with a four foot long blade.  I had been given a cutlass and I pulled it from its scabbard in preparation for what lay ahead as the Hounds swarmed from the collapsed mountains, their spine chilling howls cutting through the air still thick with fog in the distance.

Every few minutes one of the Vampires would break rank, darting after anyone close enough to feed on, quickly racking up an impressive body count as the street became empty, save for the bloodied corpses we had discarded upon the cobbles.