Avalon Revisited (15 page)

“He’s right, Victor. London is a big place! Where do we begin?”

“Let’s assume that the second victim was an anomaly or somehow fits in a way we cannot see yet. The other two, of the same family, husband and wife, and killed in the same vicinity.

We’ll start there. In Kensington.”

His finger pointed directly over my home.

We made a quick stop at my house to drop off my vampire notes and tome. Victor agreed to come for tea to review them in depth tomorrow. Then we all went out to patrol the streets between Kensington and Brompton, ending up at the Brompton Cemetery. We hoped to speak with the caretaker there and gather some more information about the Haldenby murders. Each of us were armed for a potential paranormal battle. Victor had the holy water arm-apparatus strapped to his right forearm, and the hammer and stake set hung from his belt. Avalon’s huge overcoat effectively covered The Slayer, which hung from her belt, although I caught a glimpse of where the bottom of it was tied to her leg when she walked, accentuating the shapeliness of it.

I had my first choice, the crossbow tucked under my arm, knowing that the other weapons were virtually worthless unless Avalon was as spectacular a shot as she was a woman. Victor also had instructed each of us to wear a wooden crucifix around our neck for added protection. He had sharpened the bottom arm of each cross into a point, so it served a dual purpose: deterrent and weapon. I’m sure we were quite the sight.

As we entered the cemetery, several crows cawed loudly and took flight away from a decaying animal on which they had been feasting. The sudden flurry of black birds made us all jump. Victor stopped suddenly, silently telling us to stay still with his outstretched arms. He listened for more movement, but there was none. Avalon removed her slayer gun from its holster and held it at the ready. Then I noticed the look on Avalon’s face. It was one of complete fear, and not just from being startled.

Victor finally shook off the surprise and forged ahead.

“Are you all right?” I asked, holding Avalon back, concerned.

“Fine,” she said, unconvincingly, pulling loose from my grip and walking again. “Just cemeteries at night. Rather creepy. Don’t you find?”

Actually, Brompton was a quite a magical place for a cemetery, at least from my perspective, but Avalon didn’t seem to share my opinion. Rows and rows of stone crosses and tombstones lined the grounds, most at at least waist, and often shoulder, height. Some even towered overhead, even Victor’s head! The night’s fog lingered at the base of the headstones, gently swirling as we passed by. Their marble facades glowed in the hazy moonlit night, creating an eerie forest of stone through which we wound, fully alert at every sound that befell our ears.

“Not really. There is nothing to fear from the dead,” I replied.

“It’s not those that are still dead that concern me,” she said. Good point.

“This way,” Victor called back in a harsh whisper, chiding us to catch up. He lead the way to a rather ominous crypt. The name “Haldenby” was carved in large letters across the marble front.

Its sides were completely covered with ivy that was long since dead. Interwoven among the brown leaves were cobwebs which sparkled like a silver chain in the moonlight. Looming stone angels stood guard on either side of a heavy, wooden door which, although decrepit in appearance, was still quite sturdy. Huge iron hinges reached out from the edge, cold to the touch.

Victor threw his rather considerable size against the wooden door several times before it gave way. Inside, a stairway led down into darkness.

“You two wait here,” Victor said. “If I’m not back in five minutes, get out of here.”

No argument from me. It was likely quite filthy down in there, and I liked things rather clean.

The earth can keep its dirt and dust and creepy crawlers. I escaped that fate.

Avalon and I stood at either side of the door as if we were guards, giving the angels a rest.

Avalon’s expression had not changed. Her eyes were still wide and she continuously scanned the grounds for the slightest hint of movement.

“Why do you do this if it frightens you so?” I asked her, still concerned. She truly looked terrified.

“If we didn’t, who would? I mean. People are dying, Arthur, and it’s not going to stop on its own.” She paused. Her eyes narrowed and jaw clenched, fear turning to anger and determination.

She turned to me and the fire in her eyes instantly warmed me up. “The police don’t believe it’s truly a vampire, but you and I know better. Victor knows better. The police wouldn’t know what to do if they came up against a vampire.”

“Do you... know what to do?” I kept the conversation going. At least talking kept her fear at bay.

“Victor has trained me,” she said with pride.

“And has Victor come face-to-face with a vampire?”

“He has. He’s slayed a few as well.”

This was a surprise. Most hunters I’d met through the years were working on theory and myth at best. If it were true, why was he still playing with crosses and holy water?

“Really?” I asked, “Where did he slay these vampires?”

“On the continent. Eastern end.”

“Romania?” I asked, completely expecting the answer to be yes.

“Yes.”

Surprise. Surprise.

I bet my last drop of blood that Victor has never even seen a real vampire. Several hundred years of experience has taught me that there were other vampires, of course, but not many. We tended to be a solitary lot and rather careful when it comes to feeding and extremely selective when it comes to turning. Otherwise, there would be more real vampire hunters exterminating us.

The rustling leaves behind a nearby tombstone startled Avalon. Fear crept back into her features, so I continued the conversation.

“Was he alone?” I asked.

She looked back at me with a shake of her head, as if she was shaking off an unpleasant thought. Her imagination had to be getting the best of her. Shadows can morph into rather horrifying monsters in a fearful mind.

“No. He was studying under a vampire hunter there by the name of Stanescu. Adrian Stanescu. He’s supposed to be the best. Had several students, but Victor doesn’t talk about it much. It seems they all witnessed some pretty horrible things. The only one he ever mentions is a Dutchman named Abe. They were fast friends, but Victor felt he could never measure up. He said that Abe was a natural slayer. It was in his blood.”

“How long ago was this?”

She bit her lip, and her eyes rolled to the side, thinking. “Twenty years ago? Victor, like you, lost someone to a vampire, and he’s sworn revenge. He has studied them extensively and has made it his life’s work to kill as many as possible.” She spoke with great admiration, her eyes twinkling with it.

“You love him,” I said. A twinge of grief pierced my dead heart, and I felt a kind of nausea.

“Like a big brother, but I do greatly admire him.”

My sickness subsided, and a warm feeling spread throughout when she looked at me. There perhaps was something there after all. I had definitely broken through the outer shell. Her face was so lovely in the faint moonlight. I began to reach out to her, for she didn’t take her eyes off of me either. It was most certainly a moment.

Victor came back out of the door just as I was to make my move.

Nice timing, Victor.

“Come with me,” he said abruptly, plainly seeing he had interrupted something, and he was none too happy about it. “It’s just as I thought.”

“What is?” Avalon asked.

“What about the caretaker,” I asked. “Shouldn’t we speak to him?”

“We may not need to,” he said and then turned back into the crypt. “Follow me.” He was now carrying a torch and leading us down the decrepit stone steps. The dank air held an odor unique to the dead, and even being one of them, I could hardly bear it. Avalon covered her nose with one arm and held The Vampire Slayer gun with the other. She walked behind Victor and I behind her.

After twenty or so steps, we all emerged in a room much larger underground than the footprint of the crypt on street level. Victor placed the torch into an angled hole in the dirt wall.

Long, deep, rectangle cubbies dug into the earthen walls extended from one end of the crypt to the other, stacked three high. Rounded ends of logs were visible between them, extra support for the decayed corpses that lay in each cubby, most of them now only skeletons. Their former clothes hung off the bones in rags, but some bodies still had a moderate amount of flesh left, on which rats were feasting. Death isn’t pretty.

Avalon looked away, turning by accident into me. I put my arm around her instinctively and held her for a brief moment before she pulled away, embarrassed. She had obviously never been in this situation before. Probably had never seen a corpse before, and certainly not in this state of decomposition. The constant moisture of London made for a quick, but messy, decay. The smell of death and mud filled the vault, and I wanted to get Avalon out of this wretched place as soon as possible.

Two marble tombs sat in the center of the room on a dry mortar stone floor. Each stood a good four feet high. One’s lid was still sealed over the tomb; the other’s lid was broken. Cracked diagonally across the center, half of it lay shattered along the side of the tomb.

“There,” Victor said, pointing to broken lid. “It’s just as I thought,” he said, then added, “or rather, feared.”

“What is?” I asked. Avalon still was covering her nose, eyes wide at the horrid surroundings.

She would have trouble sleeping after this.

I could certainly help her pass the time.

“This is the tomb of Charlotte Haldenby, the first victim,” he said, pointing to the name etched on the side of the tomb. “She’s risen.”

“But that’s impossible!” I said incredulously.
How could she have risen? I killed her! Not
unless she drank from me would she have turned. She didn’t drink from me, did she?
I racked my brain to remember the details of that night. I did have a lot of wine, and I was rather fuzzy on the details, between the drink and the passionate encounter, but she couldn’t have. I mean. There would’ve been signs. Surely I would’ve remembered something.

“Why is that impossible, Arthur?” Victor regarded me with some impatience. “You know about vampires. You know how they can make more abominations such as themselves.”

As if on cue, the second tomb’s lid began to rattle. Avalon jumped back into my arms and I gladly held her there. Victor released the slipknot and took the hammer and stake from his belt, glancing back at me and Avalon. Brow furrowed, he shouted, “Avalon!”

Avalon shook her head, waking herself up from a bad dream and pushed away from me straight into a fighting stance, gun at the ready. She had been training, and it showed in her stance. I followed suit, crossbow raised, totally intrigued at what was going to come out of that tomb.

The rattling suddenly stopped and all was quiet for a moment. Then a sound broke the silence, louder than the thunder of a fierce storm. The marble lid cracked into several pieces.

Small parts of it fell over the sides and a human hand from within the tomb pushed the largest piece of heavy stone aside with little effort.

We all held our ground. The Vampire Slayer gun trembled in Avalon’s hand. Victor’s hand was as steady as my stone one. He had no fear. Perhaps he had done this before.

A man that appeared to be in his mid-sixties sat up inside the tomb. He looked around nonplussed. His chalky skin, even whiter than the marble tomb, glimmered in the flickering torchlight. I pulled up my sleeve to look at my skin, and it didn’t shimmer like that. Maybe there was something to those bizarre myths. What was this thing? Could there be different species or

“races” of vampires? The man looked over at us, rather dumbfounded.

“I say,” he said. “What’s all this?” A man of fine breeding. Condescending even after death.

“Lord Haldenby?” Victor said.

“Yes? What is all this about?” he demanded with comfortable authority. “Answer me, young man.”

“Forgive us, sir,” Victor said, “but you’re dead, sir.” The creature’s commanding tone gave him pause causing him to habitually fall back into his social role.

“I am not dead. I’ll have you know!” he said, slapping the side of his tomb, as if to say

‘That’s final!’ “If I were dead, how could I be talking to you. Dead. I say, man. What opiate have you been enjoying?” he said, laughing to himself and dusting the marble dust and dirt off his sleeves.

“Sir,” Victor continued. I was amazed at how polite he was being to this man. “Look around you. We are in your crypt, sir.”

Lord Haldenby looked around, amused. “Well! So we are! Funny, that.” Amusement. Strange reaction to discovering one has died. “Call for my man, would you? I feel rather peckish.”

At this Victor was at a complete loss, he turned to Avalon and me only for a second, but that was enough. Lord Haldenby, even with his considerable middle and advanced age, launched out of his tomb with the speed and grace of a leaping deer and landed on Victor. Avalon reacted without hesitation, instinct and training taking over, and shot three consecutive wooden bullets into Lord Haldenby’s side, distracting him enough for Victor to throw Haldenby off and get back to his feet. With a flick of his wrist, holy water sprouted from Victor’s arm sheath and drenched Lord Haldenby. To my great surprise, it burned him! Haldenby howled and the crypt quickly filled with the smell of burning flesh, masking the less horrible smell of decaying flesh that had so recently permeated every molecule in the air. Victor covered his mouth and suppressed a retch, holding his weapon at the ready.

Avalon shot her last wooden bullet into Lord Haldenby’s chest, but missed the heart. Her gun only held four bullets, so she now had to reload. He was on her almost too fast for even me to see. What was this thing! Certainly no ordinary vampire. I pulled him off of her with fair ease before he could get a bite, throwing him onto his back. Avalon’s face froze in shock while her brain tried to catch up to the actions happening faster than she could process them. I straddled him and pinned his flailing arms to the ground with my knees. A horrible sound escaped his throat, something between a shriek and a growl, and I saw his fangs. They were much, much larger than mine when descended. In fact, the canines weren’t the only things that descended. It seemed his entire mouth and nose protruded some, rather like a snout. Even his brow had bulged.