Bad Blood (Battle of the Undead Book 1) (2 page)

Regent was code for the doddering
elder vampires who thought they controlled us. I was over 450 years old, so these guys were practically Jesus’ age.

“How are you this evening?” I hoped it was a social call, although my gut and head both told me it wasn’t.

“Not too well, I’m afraid. We need your help on an urgent matter.”

“Okay.”

Silence again.

“Hello, are you there?” I asked.

“Yes. Please, Briann—Britannia, we need you to go to the Haven below the Dead Hare Pub tonight. Can you do that?”

“Yes, but you need to tell me why.”

“Not over the phone, please. Your safety is guaranteed.”

Well, if my safety was guaranteed then it wasn’t going to be too interesting, but hey, a night out
was a night out.

“Sure, I’ll come right away.”

The caller on the other end hung up without even a goodbye—how rude!

I pulled on my dark blue skinny jeans and a plain red T-shirt. I didn’t feel the need to dress up, even for the
Elders. Way back when, I’d have had to don an unforgiving corset and more frills than a granny’s doily collection. But now those things weren’t that important. They were just an annoying reminder of how dull vampires could be.

As I walked toward the Dead Hare
Pub, the streets seemed somehow strange—quieter, and even sinister.  Something was wrong, but I couldn’t figure out what it was. People still rushed by me, mobile phones in hand, massively overpriced paper coffee cups in the other. No one smiled or lifted their eyes. Stranger etiquette was still firmly in place. But, still, something was out of whack.

The Dead Hare is one of the oldest bars in London and is owned by the Elders. It’s usually filled with pensioners looking for a cheap drink and a random stranger to talk to
. It’s a bar for the over-sixty set. The Elders wanted to give back to the older humans. The drinks were cheaper than anywhere else, and it was always somewhere warm to go when fuel prices were beyond that of a basic British pension. Being well over sixty myself, I was welcome there too. A few people recognized me and nodded in my direction, and the barman pulled the bar top open so I could slip through into the basement below and into the only vampire haven in London.

Every city has a
haven somewhere. Havens are neutral ground where any and every vampire can socialize, relax, and take orders from the big-wig overseers.

There were no rank beer barrels down in this pub basement. It was wall-to-wall antiques and red velvet, like a decadent underground club whose out-of-date taste was spread thicker than Marmite on toast. The place kind of smelled like Marmite too.

I got to the main meeting room, opened the heavy doors, and walked straight into Nicholas.

He has only one inch on my natural five-foot-nine height, and so we were almost nose to nose.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I put my hands on my hips and stepped back.

“I could ask you the same question.”

“Now, now, children, let’s not fight.”

Behind him, Philippe
, our mutual, and rather stressed, friend, moved to flounce between us. He looked like a reject from an over-budget Renaissance period drama. He’d never been good at keeping up with fashion.

“Philippe, it’s lovely to see you,” I said.

I smiled as he took my hand and kissed the back, a gesture long forgotten in modern times.

“The pleasure, my darling Britannia, is all mine
. I just wish it were under better circumstances.” He smiled at me, his ash-blond hair curled by a red ribbon into a sturdy pony tail at his neck. Tonight, Philippe looked like the hero from the front cover of a romantic bodice-ripper novel.

“What circumstances?” I asked.

Philippe caressed my cheek and then swiftly planted a cold kiss on it.

Nicholas narrowed his dark eyes and huffed. “Get a room.”
He quickly glanced at Philippe then unbuttoned the top of his ink black shirt in a bid to mirror his friend’s casual sexiness. He didn’t succeed. Instead, all dressed in black with his pale skin and thin frame, he looked more like a mime than a romantic lead.

“We’d have a room, if you’d just kindly get lost.” I raised an eyebrow and nodded in the direction of the exit.

Nicholas smirked and sat down on the nearest plush, red velvet couch, making himself comfortable.

I then
realized my question on the circumstances had been deftly avoided. Vampires are masters of misdirection.

Philippe held out his arm for me. I took it. He quickly brought his other arm round for a swift hug. He led me to the couch and wisely took the seat next to Nicholas, planting himself quite literally between a rock and a hard place. I’d always liked Philippe. He was about my age, and after surviving the French Revolution—the guillotine being just as deadly to a vampire as to a human, he had fled to England and stayed here ever since. He was bi-sexual, treating all with an old-world, gentlemanly manner that made him instantly likeable no matter which gender you were. He had only two vampire children, whom he loved with a heart so large he could have fathered hundreds. Both children were male. Very few vampires
were women. Back in the early fourteenth century when vampirism was at its peak, women were considered too emotional to turn—they were bad hunters and had to rely too much on the men folk. Yes, times and views had changed, but most vampires had barely changed with them, so they still held onto these antiquated views of women. My unyielding murderous actions didn’t exactly boost their opinions of my gender either.

Philippe smiled and put his hand heavily on my knee.

“We should all get together like this more often.”

Nicholas rolled his eyes. “We would if she stopped killing us once in a while.”

“So why are we here?” I turned to Philippe.

“The Elders wish to speak with us together, some emergency or another.”

“Well, let’s get on with it.” I leaned forward and tapped the laptop sitting on the table in front of us.

“Hold your horses
. We have to wait for Gerry.” Nicholas glanced at his watch, then the door.

“Gerry? Short, annoying, and barely three months old?” I widened my eyes as I saw the recognition in Nicholas’ expression. “Perhaps we shouldn’t wait.”

“Already?” Nicholas was almost yelling. “I liked Gerry.”

He pouted like a child who’d had his lollipop stolen.

“Well, you really are a pill, Britannia.” Philippe nudged me gently in the ribs. “I’m glad you’re not mad at me.”

Whil
e under Nicholas’ hateful glare, I leaned forward and pressed "connect" on the laptop.

The screen went dull for a second then flashed onto an egg-timer symbol
, which seemed to revolve for an age. Typical, the only piece of technology in the room, and it was already breaking down. Nicholas leaned forward to tap the keyboard again. Nothing. Philippe checked the wires at the back. He nodded that they were all connected. Still, the egg timer on the screen mocked us.

“Christ, three centuries-old vampires, and we can’t even work a laptop.” I shook my head
, letting my dark blue curls bounce off my shoulders.

Nicholas eyed me with a curious look.

Philippe pressed the button again, and suddenly, the screen showed a picture of the Vatican in Rome.

“There we go. It just needed a certain touch,” he said with a wink.

The Vatican then disappeared, leaving us with a live feed of another haven, one deep below Vatican City. A man appeared in front of the camera. He was late-thirties in looks. He was probably made a vampire in a time when that age was considered old. His mannerisms were that of an old man trapped in a young man’s body. He looked serious…not good.

“My children
…”

Hmm, not a great start. Referring to vampires as “children” was always a veiled insult, but the Elders had to show their power somehow.

“Only three?” he asked, worry lines creasing his pale skin.

“Yes, my lord, only three.” Nicholas spat the word
“three.”

“Oh, dear, you’ve been busy again, Britannia.” The Elder almost sighed.

It was then I recognized his voice as the regent who had called me earlier.

“We are all very busy.” I tapped my fingernails deliberately on the arm of the couch as I spoke.

“Yes, it’s all a rush now, isn’t it?” The Elder looked sullen for a moment. “I have terrible news, children.”

Before we knew it, all three of us had edged forward.

“We have had word that the humans have destroyed themselves.”

“Pardon me?” Philippe looked quizzical. “But I saw a group of them only moments ago, and they all appeared rather robust.”

“Now, yes, but in a few days, or even hours, that will drastically change. It would seem that science will in fact be their, and our, downfall.  Scientists in Cambridge have released a virus.”

“What virus?” Nicholas narrowed his eyes.

“The humans infected become the very basic of the undead…revenants.”

“Revenants?” I’d heard the word before
, but had never really latched on to its meaning.

“Zombies, my dear.” Philippe looked down at his feet.

“Indeed, zombies,” echoed the Elder.

The word hung in the air, and we were all silent as we struggled with our own chains of thought.

“What do we do?” I asked.

“We cannot stop it
. The outbreak has already begun. What we do know is that we cannot drink dead blood, and so those who survive this…incident will need to be taken care of… That is, if vampires are to survive.”

“What do we do?” I asked again, although to be honest, by now, the answer was unfortunately already forming in my mind.

“We have developed a safe town in a remote area of Britain. Vampires from all over the country are to collect as many uninfected humans as they can and herd them there. We will then protect the remaining humans and fix the problem they have created.”

“Can we be infected?” Damn Nicholas and his good questions.

“Yes, I’m afraid so, but infection takes hold only after a number of consecutive bites.”

“How many?”

“Ten or more in one attack. More if you are older, stronger.”

I wondered for a second how they knew that
, then the answer came to me and made me gag. The Elders were never ones to refrain from experimenting in order to further their knowledge—knowledge is power. It wasn’t much of a stretch to imagine them, in the past, locking up vampires with revenants to see what would happen. Zombies weren’t new, but an outbreak that the Elders couldn’t stop was very new.

“So where’s the safe town?” Nicholas asked.

Again with the good questions!

“Argyll.”

“Argyll? As in the Scottish Highlands?” I asked.

Once again
, I knew the answer to my question, but I asked in the hope that he meant the posh wool shop down Covent Garden.

“It is remote and easily fortified. We are asking that all vampires make their way there, finding survivors where they can.”

“I’ve never been to Scotland.” Philippe looked wistful.

“Sleep for today, children. Gather your strength for the morrow night. You’ll need it.” The Elder then dramatically clicked off his Skype.

We sat in an easy silence for about ten minutes, Philippe looking thoughtful, Nicholas beginning to speak then thinking better of it. Personally, I’d have been happy to remain in silence. Any acknowledgement would have made it all real. Nicholas broke first. He stood.

“Okay,” he said, “we need to go home, get some sleep, and meet here at sundown.”

“Who put you in charge?” I sprung up to glare at him.

“I’m the eldest.  Of course I’m in charge. It’s the system that vampires adhere to. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”

“Up yours! I’m not taking orders from you!”

“Now, now. Let’s not make this worse than it already is.” Philippe stepped between us. “Let us do as
brother
Nicholas suggests. We will get our sleep, meet here at sundown, then begin the trek to Scotland. Kilts will be optional.” Philippe winked at Nicholas, who actually blushed. He then jerked forward and quickly embraced me. “Britannia, darling, this is bigger than your petty squabble. Please promise me that you will work with Nicholas and put the survival of both species above it?”

His arms were strong and gentle at the same time
. It made me wonder how he did it. Unlike the myriad of vampires in movies and books, we didn’t have special powers like telepathy, predicting the future, or seeing into someone’s soul. We were stronger than humans—in fact, I could bench press a truck trailer, and have done it in fleeting movements of boredom. We were much faster than any animal alive, and we had better senses—heightened vision, hearing, smell. But if one of us had one of those elusive
special
powers, it was Philippe with his calming influence and soft touch that always made you feel warm and loved. I allowed myself to briefly enjoy his embrace—a small compensation considering the world I knew was teetering on the edge of a zombie apocalypse.