I often think that that fear might have been the first true emotion experienced by man when he was put on this Earth. Fear of a new world. Fear of every sight, sound, taste, smell. Fear of the unknown. Fear of existence. Maybe it's what we feel as soon as we are born. Fear of being taken from the womb and thrust into this vast world of bright lights, loud voices and the touch of another, when all that time you had felt nothing but the soft nurture of a small enclosed space where everything was muted.
Fear seems instinctual, which makes it the hardest to fight. Because how do you fight something that we are all born with? How do you fight something that comes so naturally to you? It's like fighting how to breathe, stopping yourself from taking that vital breath you need to stay alive, to keep going, to survive.
I couldn't fight the fear as I fled from Brandon's compound. As he howled out his rage, I sank to my knees, the tight spasms in my bladder squeezing painfully and I knew just how close I was to curling into a ball and accepting my fate. From upstairs, I could hear the crashing of furniture as it was tossed around the room and the ceiling seemed to shake, small particles of dust drifting down lightly and settling on my blood stained hands. For a moment I was lost in the void of terror that was overwhelming me, unable to move, frozen to the spot, just listening as the beast was unleashed above. Then, when I heard him pound the floor, I knew I had to move. I had to run.
Wrenching the front door open, I threw myself blindly out into the night. The snow had been washed away and replaced with torrential, unforgiving rainfall which lashed against me as soon as I stepped outside. It stung my skin, like the attack of a thousand angry wasps seeking out any bare flesh to assault. Within just a minute of fleeing the house, my dress and hair were drenched through and both stuck to me as if they were fused to my body.
I ran with no real sense of direction. All I knew was that I needed to run and I needed to run as fast and as far away from this place as I could. Staring wildly about me as my feet hit the ground, I could see a short driveway ahead of me and the house was surrounded on all sides by the blackest of forest. Tall imposing oak trees crowded in; as if at any moment they would uproot themselves and fall upon me, preventing my escape. The moon was lost behind thick cloud and the stars were ominously absent. The dark sky seemed oppressive and malevolent and a part of me wanted to be back inside that room, safe from the outside world and all the vastness it had to offer.
I took off down the driveway, sharp little stones digging into the soles of my bare feet, the rain doing everything in its power to slow my pace as it blurred my vision and made me gasp out loud to feel its icy touch upon my skin. The wind whipped at me, rushing into my open mouth and stealing my breath, but still I ran. Up ahead I could see the driveway open up to reveal a gate-less entrance, high grey wall stretching out on either side. The closer I got, I realised there was a road there running past the compound and it spurred me on to see it, the road had to lead somewhere, it had to lead to safety.
Just as that glimmer of hope sparked in my head, I heard him.
The sound of his roar made me stumble, stubbing my foot on a particularly sharp stone, my toe scraping across the ground and shaving off part of the nail and a good portion of skin with it. I whimpered as my steps faltered, turning to glance back at the house in panic.
What is it they say about never looking back? I wish that I hadn't. I wish that, despite the blood seeping out from what was left of my nail, I had just gritted my teeth and kept going because there, standing in the same doorway through which I had just ran moments before, was the blackest beast, the same one that had gifted me Felix's decapitated head. The rain was doing its best to impede my vision, but nothing could have prevented me from seeing the size of it, nothing could have stopped me from moaning in fear at its sheer bulk, towering easily over seven foot high. It had great broad shoulders and its arms seemed monstrously big; muscular and long with those awful misshapen clawed hands at the end. It was far bigger than any Varúlfur that I had seen so far and I could feel its strength and power from here, rolling out in waves across the courtyard. A seed of doubt was already germinating in my gut, stretching out its creepy tendrils and gripping my limbs in a tight hold. I wasn't going to get away. I wasn't going to escape this.
That's your husband. That's your husband.
I wiped a palm across my eyes, trying to clear my vision of the relentless rainwater that battered my face and blinking through the downpour, I could see him. There were only hints of his face hidden behind the beast, but what I could see of him seemed like nothing but cruel memories of what I had thought was the truth all these years. This was the truth. This thing. This animal. This was the true Brandon, the one he had tried to hide from me, the one he had tried to keep locked within, only now it was out, it was free and I knew that no wedding band, no vow was going to keep him from hunting me and ripping me to pieces. This time the Varúlfur would not resist. It would do just what it was meant to do: kill a vampire.
In a desperate attempt to smother the fear that was consuming me, I turned and started to run again, my arms pumping furiously by my side, my feet screaming with every step. As I reached the entrance to the driveway, the road stretched out in either direction and I just took a left, knowing that neither way would bring me freedom and that all I could do now was run and keep running. From behind me, Brandon howled and it was then I heard the others, maybe three of four joining him in terrible unison, although the sound was distorted slightly as if further away. Again they met his cries with theirs and I realised that they were coming from somewhere else on the property, from within the blackened forest itself.
The road was narrow and as I looked ahead and saw it winding between an avenue of trees that seemed to curve overhead like a tunnel, I felt like I was running headlong into the open jaws of some awful monster. Well, monster or not, I couldn't stop. I couldn't stop running, fuelled by the terrible howls of the Varúlfur that accompanied my terror like some kind of soul-chilling soundtrack. The monster's black maw opened wide and I kept on going, wondering at what point those jaws would slam shut and I would be swallowed whole. Brandon roared again, closer now and I thought soon, soon.
I glanced backwards and couldn't see any dark shapes pursuing me up the road, but I could hear them gaining distance, their baying growing louder and louder. The pain in my soles was excruciating, as if the monster was already biting down with its slavering teeth, feasting on my feet and tearing off the skin. I had visions of crawling on my knees; my feet chewed up into nothing but bloodied stumps as I was slowly consumed by my fear. As if they could read my mind, the Varúlfur's howls turned to hoots of excitement and my head whipped to the left when I realised just why I couldn't see them on the road behind me.
Through the trees I could see the grey of the wall as it marked the border of the compound and the land sloped upwards granting me a view of the skeletal forest beyond. Dark shapes moved within, weaving in and out of the blackened oaks, bare branches stretching upwards like charred arms. The Varúlfur crashed through the wood and I could clearly hear the snapping of branches and the crunch of the forest floor under their feet. They were almost parallel to me now, the wall being the only thing keeping us apart and I counted five in total, the largest in the middle and gaining speed, soon overtaking the front runner with a roar.
As I ran, all I could think was I don't want it to be him that gets me, one of the others, but not him, please don't let it be him. But I knew it would be. I could hear Daniel's words coming back to haunt me, like whispers from beyond the grave.
I think you'll find your husband's patience has grown incredibly thin when it comes to you.
They were closer to the wall now, still high enough on the incline that I could see them, only now I could hear the persistent hammering of their feet on the ground, their snorts and snarls, their fierce panting. My legs were shrieking in agony. With every step, my shins felt like they were tearing apart, bone splintering through the skin, but I didn't stop. I couldn't. I knew my feet would be a mess now and that if it weren't for the rain, I would be leaving bloody footprints behind me but I had to keep going.
The road veered round to the right and I followed it, noting that the wall to the compound was bending in the opposite direction, marking the end of the land's boundary. To my utter dismay and horror, the Varúlfur didn't stop either. Instead they threw themselves at the wall, Brandon clearing it quite easily and landing hard on the other side and the others scrambling over the top, dropping one by one next to him.
I was sobbing now. Running and sobbing, my tears mixing with the raindrops that spattered my face cruelly, the icy water numbing my skin. I didn't look back anymore but I could hear them gaining on me, their claws scratching against the asphalt of the road, their snarls mixing with horrible human laughter. The energy was draining from my legs. It was as if I was wading through water, the tide surging against me and battering my body and I knew I couldn't keep it up for much longer.
When I saw the lights up ahead, for a moment I could I barely register their existence. It didn't seem real and it wouldn't have been surprised if it was somebody's idea of a cruel trick.
You think light means safety? You think light is good? Well fuck you, Megan. Fuck. You.
I would have run straight past them, treading in the light for a second before plunging myself right back into darkness except when I heard the low grumble emanating from the light and the plaintive howls from behind me, my head turned automatically seeking out the source.
It wasn't just one light but two. Two headlights to be exact from a car that was slowly winding its way down a narrow dirt road to my right. It rumbled over bumpy ground, where deep tyre grooves scarred a pathway through the wood and I could hear the saturated mud sucking hard on the wheels as if it would pull the vehicle down into the earth like quicksand. The wipers were swishing violently back and forth across the windscreen in a futile attempt to clear away the rain that was battering the car.
Caught like the veritable deer in the headlights, I froze as it headed straight towards me and just when I thought it would hit me, the car's brakes squealed in protest, the wheels skidding in the sodden earth. The driver's door opened and a head poked out, the driver pulling up the hood of his waterproof coat and squinted at me throughout the downpour.
"Bloody hell, you alright, love?" he shouted above the noise of the raindrops that hit the roof of his car like the crack of hailstones on metal.
I glanced to my right to see that the Varúlfur had drawn back to the tree line, their darkened shapes stalking the edge of the wood, edging closer and closer.
"Please," I cried out to the man. "Please can you help me?"
A growl rippled up my spine.
"Please?"
"My God, of course," he said. "Get in, get in."
I ran to the passenger side and opened the door, hesitating briefly to look back across the road to where the Varúlfur now skulked directly opposite, stalking back and forth, their bodies twisting and writhing against each other. All except for Brandon, that is. I could see his great form, rooted to the spot as he watched me, his amber eyes glinting malevolently. We locked eyes for a moment, Varúlfur and vampire, husband and wife. I quickly climbed into the passenger seat, still watching him, unable to tear my gaze away, knowing that at any moment they could strike. But still, they waited there, bristling with anger and want.
Inside the car, an old Land Rover, it was warm. The heat had been turned up over halfway on the dial and it was radiating out from the fans, but I shivered violently. The interior smelled faintly of cherries and an old cardboard air freshener hung off the rear view mirror, swinging gently with the vibration of the engine.
"Holy crap, what in the blue blazes happened to you?" The driver, a bearded, greying man probably in his late forties stared at me in undisguised horror, his eyes taking in my dress which stuck to me before travelling down to my bloodied and torn feet. "Oh my goodness, you're not wearing any shoes. What the hell is going on?"
"Please, please just drive," I said, gasping for breath.
"Why don't I take you back to my place back there, it's just up this road and..."
"No!" I grabbed his wrist and his eyes widened. "No, it's not safe. Please just drive."
Something in my eyes must have convinced him and he slipped the car into first and pulled out onto the road, taking a right. I stared out the window as the Land Rover turned, but the beasts hadn't moved and as the car continued down the road, I saw their dark shapes converging on the road behind us but strangely they didn't give chase. I held my breath until the car reached the top of the hill and followed the winding road round to the left and they disappeared out of view, but here surrounded by forest I wondered if they were running now, chasing through the trees and looking to cut us off. When I saw streetlights up ahead and the dull glow emanating from a row of houses, I exhaled deeply.
"Thank you," I whispered.
The man glanced over at me, his brow crinkles with concern and he rubbed a hand across his beard. "You want to tell me what happened? Someone chasing you, love? That why you out here dressed like that with no bloody shoes?"
I said nothing for a moment, watching as we passed a sign that said Old Redding and felt it pull on my memories but I couldn't work out where I knew that name from. I'd never been here before, that much I knew.
"I just need to get home," I mumbled, but as soon as I said it, I remembered with a stab of pain that made my chest hurt, that I didn't have a home anymore and that Paige and Sergio were both dead. Sergio had no doubt been swallowed up by the sun by now, but I wondered if Paige was still there, his body drying out like a husk, bled free of every drop, his head still slumped on his chest.
"You need to go to the hospital, that's what you need," the man replied gruffly, but there was a soft inflection to his tone. "I could take you over to Northwick Park now; get them to look you over."
"Northwick Park? Isn't that in Harrow?" Water trickled down my forehead and dripped onto my eyelashes. I wiped it away with a trembling hand.
"Yeah that's right, love, it's not far from here. We could go there now, I don't mind taking you."
"I don't need a hospital." We were near Harrow. I should have known Brandon wouldn't have strayed too far from his territory. He had practically been hiding me under the nose of Walter and Noble the whole time.
"I really think you do, you know. I'll stay with you until someone can come and get you, a friend maybe? Family?"
"There isn't anyone."
We reached a junction and the traffic lights burned red. The clicking of the indicator signal seemed louder than it should have.
"There must be someone," he said.
"Silvertown," I said. "I need to get to Silvertown."
"Hmmm....well I could take you there, but I really wish you'd let me take you to the hospital. You've probably caught pneumonia being out there dressed like that."
I struggled a smile. "Really, I'll be okay. I just need to get home."
And find Harper. Garrick. Lucius.
When we reached the roundabout at Uxbridge Road, I sat up a little straighter and clutched the sides of the seat, my eyes darting towards all the signposts as the man took the car straight across in the direction of Harrow Weald.
"Wait, where are you going? You need to take a left here."
He tightened his grip on the steering wheel and pursed his lips together in a thin line. "Let's just get to the hospital first. Then once they've checked you out, I'll be happy to take you to Silvertown."
"No! I told you I don't need the hospital."
"All those cuts and bruises tell me different, love. Sorry, but if you were my daughter, I'd want whoever found her to take her to the hospital. Maybe even ring the police or something."
My mouth fell open. "Police? I don't need the police. I just need to get to Silvertown. Please I'm begging you?"
He glanced at me but his gaze wouldn't meet my eyes. "Alright, no police." He sighed. "But I am taking you to the hospital. Come on, it wouldn't hurt to get sorted. It probably won't take long, although you know what A&E can be like. But I promise, in the morning I will get you home."
Morning. I thought about Sergio, his skin blistering and cracking at dawn, the sun dancing across his broken body and burning him up until he was nothing but another dark wretched stain on the pavement of Whitechapel.
"I can't go to the hospital."
"Look, I get it. You're in trouble. Now I'm not going to pry, it's your business, but I am taking you to hospital. It's the least I can do."
I grabbed at the door handle, pulling on it furiously. "Unlock the door now." I slammed my fist against the window.
"Here now, stop that!" he said, trying to keep an eye on the road. "I'm trying to help you."
"Then take me to Silvertown."
"I can't do that, love. Sorry. Just stay calm, will you?"
I slammed my palm against the window. "Stop the fucking car," I shrieked. "Now." When he didn't stop, I un-clipped my seat belt and pounced forward, desperately trying to lean over him and reach the central locking button on his door.
"Oi, stop it! Stop it now, do you hear?" He was gripping the wheel in one hand now and trying to push me off with the other. I could smell the faint odour of sweat emanating from his skin and the remnants of a cigarette on his breath. I could hear his heart pounding frantically, little hypnotic staccato beats that only made me strain against him harder, spurring me on like someone had just plugged me in and sent bolts of energy raging through me.
"You need to stop the car," I pleaded through gritted teeth. "I need to get out now."
"You're mad; you're going to get us both killed."
No, I thought. Just you. Just you.
"Look, I'm turning in here, alright? Just get off me before you make me crash this thing and then we will have to go the bloody hospital."
He pulled into the entrance of a park just on the left and I eased myself back into my seat, trying to control my breathing, but his heart was still jumping. It was so loud now that I clapped my hands over my ears trying to muffle the sound.
Pulling up, he yanked on the hand break and shook his head. Staring at me with glassy eyes, he hit the central locking button, his hand visibly shaking. "There now. It's open. You want to go, then go. You're not right in the head, girl. You should be at a hospital, not wandering the streets like that, but if you want to, that's up to you. I reckon you got a bloody screw loose though."
Slowly, I lowered my hands, staring at him. I noticed his hair was thinning on top, deep lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes. I noticed how his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed nervously. I noticed the way the skin on his hands was chapped and dry, signs of a life of heavy manual labour and too many harsh winters outside. I noticed everything, drinking him in as the sound of his heart intoxicated me.
"What's wrong with you?" I saw it in his eyes. That flicker of panic. He thought he was in the car with a mad woman and maybe I was mad by that point. Driven to the edge by what I had endured. Driven to the brink by what I had done. Driven to breaking point at what I was about to do.
"Are you getting out or not?" He was trying to muster up some courage, his voice louder and firmer now but I knew it was all pretence. He was petrified and I was thrilled by it and disgusted with myself at the same time.
"No," I said, with a small smile. "No, I'm not getting out."
I fell upon him and he put up one hell of a fight I have to say. He kicked and struggled underneath me, his hands battered against me, gripping, gouging, tearing my dress. But it was all futile of course.
Very soon, my knight in shining armour stopped moving altogether and I held him close as he took his last breath. The hiss whispered softly into my ear, like the slow release of air.
"Thank you," I whispered back. "Thank you."
*************
The Millennium Mills was an old derelict site that once housed the Spillers flour mill. Located in West Silvertown on the Royal Victoria Docks, the building had been hit during the World War Two bombings and parts had been rebuilt afterwards, only for it to be abandoned when the once thriving flour industry was crippled and brought to its knees by misguided government polices back in the eighties. As far as I knew the place was just a shell these days, used as a backdrop for television productions and cool music videos that preferred their landscape gritty and edgy.
Parking up the car just down the road from the Mills, I could see the building rising in the distance, like a permanent scar on the London skyline, offset by the gleaming steel gates of the Thames barrier. Out of sight, I dragged the man's body to the edge of the dock and rolled him over, wincing when the splash of his body hitting the water was louder than I had expected. I waited, half-expecting to hear the sound of running feet coming my way but all I could hear was the rippling of the water as it smacked against the side of the dock.
I began to walk towards the Mills, keeping to the shadows as best I could and trying to ignore the stabbing pains that were burning through the soles of my feet. As I got closer, I could see the Spillers name emblazoning the top of the building in red brick and I quickened my pace, feeling illicit touches of optimism tickling the base of my stomach. Garrick had told me to come here and it comforted me to see the old abandoned building, almost as if it allowed me some small connection to my family and some shallow sense of hope that maybe Brandon had lied to me about cleansing the city of all vampires. I was alone and yet here, somehow, I didn't feel alone. I felt close to them.
Galleries of large white and black graffiti with the tag 'Vibes' marked my path and I ran towards a doorway, the actual door long since removed. Inside my eyes sharpened automatically, adjusting to the darkness that swamped the interior. Large windows, most still with some fragments of glass held in the frame, allowed some light from the surrounding city into the Mills but mostly it seemed to be nothing but shadow within. Peeling paintwork and plaster had cascaded to the floor which was peppered with pigeon faeces and rat droppings and above there were great holes in the ceiling where machinery had been ripped out revealed glimpses of the storey above. Debris was strewn everywhere and I crept carefully over or around it, unable to avoid stepping on particles of glass, paint and brick that crunched under my feet. One steel girder had fallen, taking with it a large portion of the ceiling and I dipped my head underneath it, trying to stop my feet from getting caught up in the cables that twisted together on the floor like hundreds of asps writhing around my ankles.
A noise from above startled me, the source unidentifiable but I knew it wasn't Varúlfur. I hadn't detected any sign of them around the Mills or inside and I was more than familiar with their stench now to discern whether or not they had been here.
Reaching the far end of the room, I stepped out into outside stairwell, eyeing the metal staircase leading up to the second storey. Holding onto the bannister, I shook it to test its strength and the noise rattled through the air. As if in answer, I heard that same sound from above, a footstep maybe echoing throughout the derelict building. Carefully, I tried the metal steps and found them to be more than sturdy enough to carry my weight and I padded up them quickly to the second floor, my skin tingling with expectation and head pounding with a rush of excitement.
Entering the floor above, I could see the holes and more cables snaking over fallen pipes and broken machinery left behind. There was more graffiti here, only cruder and more likely to have been the work of kids rather than any street artist. I cursed in frustration when I found no one wandering, exiting quickly and continuing up the staircase. The noise from above was taunting me now, leading me to believe the next storey would be fruitful, but each one turned out to be as empty and as skeletal as the last. Reaching the tenth and final floor, I found the source of the noise immediately and I leaned against the doorway, feeling deeply foolish that I could ever have thought someone might be up here. Pigeons lined the steel girders and windowsills, their plump feathery bodies squashed in to every available space, their little black eyes blinking at me.
With a cry, I fled and scrambled back down the stairwell, running through rooms, frantically searching for signs that they had been here and finding nothing but endless dust and decay. Finally, I found myself back where I had started on the ground floor and I stood in the middle of the room, feeling small and lost in this huge monolithic beast of a building, feeling lost in this city and feeling like maybe I was the last vampire left in London after all. I sank to my knees when the first sob wracked my chest, making my throat hurt and my eyes sting with tears. Bent double with my palms on the floor in front of me, I shook as my sobbing consumed me completely.
When I heard the whisper, hissing through the room, I screwed my eyes shut in agony and raised my hands to my ears, as if I could shut out the voice of whatever ghost had come to terrorise me now. When the voice said my name again, louder this time, I groaned and felt the pain tear through me because I knew it was his voice and that if I was hearing his voice, then it meant only one thing.
Lucius was dead.
"Megan?" he said. "Megan!" Tiny footsteps clattered across the floor and I opened my eyes to see him running towards me. I gasped to see him again, that little pale boy with his white blonde hair flying wildly as he ran with arms outstretched, a big toothy grin plastered across his face. He was dressed in jeans, a thick hoodie zipped up to his neck and trainers. Little blue woolen gloves covered his hands.
"Lucius?" I whispered, having just enough time to stumble to my feet and wipe the vision from my eyes before he threw himself at me, almost winding me as he wrapped his arms tightly around my waist and squeezed hard. My hands found his hair, his face, his shoulders, wondering how on earth a ghost could feel so damn real.
"I knew it was you," he said. "I just knew it."
It was then I heard them. Gruff voices echoing out of the dark, calling his name over and over again. Someone was running, heavy footsteps getting closer and closer and then a shadow burst out of the darkness.
"Oh my goodness...Megan." Garrick grabbed hold of me, practically crushing Lucius between us and I was still sobbing, my cries muted as I buried my head into his neck. He pulled back, taking my face in his hands, his eyes coveting every inch of my skin as if he thought that I was the ghost. "Goddammit Megan, it's you. It's really you. Lucius said it was but we didn't believe him. Thank God, thank God."
He pulled me against him again and I wrapped my arms around his back, clutching at his coat to stop myself from collapsing as Lucius danced gleefully around us.
The crunch of glass under boots made me look up and over Garrick's shoulder, I saw Harper, standing just a few feet away, his emerald eyes fixed upon me. For a moment, all I could do was stare straight back at him and feel the weight of the air as it crackled and sparked like static between us.
Letting go of Garrick, I took a shaky step towards Harper and he did the same, stopping just in front of me. His eyes, deeply lined with dark circles, travelled over me and I noticed how his face flickered with pain as he took in my bruised and battered form, the sodden dress that stuck to me, the blood spattering my bare feet.
Reaching out a hand, he let his fingers trace a lock of wet hair curled by the rain before tucking it behind my ear and taking my chin gently between thumb and forefinger.
"You have risen from the dead more times than anyone I know, angel," he said finally, with a deep sigh laced heavy with exhaustion. "I'm starting to think you might be the only true immortal among us."
"Eternal life isn't all it's cracked up to be," I said, feeling the memory of the compound haunting me like a ghost I knew I would never escape. "Sometimes death is the better option."