Castlecoote, Ireland
Ben Flannigan groaned as he pulled on the stake, using all of his strength to work the sharpened piece of ash out of the monster’s breast. The stake came free with a squelch and a crunch of bone. He took a moment to wipe the sweat from his brow before he squared his shoulders and turned back to the corpse. His work was only half finished. Now he needed to drag nearly two hundred pounds of deadweight out from the crypt and into the sun.
By the time the task was complete, the hunter was gasping for breath. He pulled a flask of good Irish whiskey from his pocket and settled back against a tombstone to watch God’s light do its work.
Contrary to the legends, a vampire did not burst into flames the moment the body came into contact with the sun’s rays. The body’s pale visage pinkened as if embarrassed by its predicament, then slowly darkened to a red not unlike that of a boiled lobster. Steam rose from the corpse with a hiss, emphasizing the comparison.
Ben chuckled and raised his flask in a toast to the sun before taking a deep drink. This was his favorite part. The vampire’s crimson flesh now began to blacken and crackle. Tendrils of acrid smoke curled up and out of the body. Moments later, the first flames flickered out of the melting eyeballs as well as the thing’s nostrils.
Once the body was engulfed in flames, Ben retrieved two large jugs of holy water from his bag. The first he poured out in a circle around the corpse to keep the flames from spreading. The second he would use when the creature had been reduced to ashes.
While he waited, the hunter logged the details of the kill in his journal. His count was now fourteen, one of the highest of all hunters. He was not as pleased with those accomplishments as another might be, however. This vampire, as well as the other that he had destroyed in Windsor, had been a disappointment, no older or craftier than his last thirteen kills. Since he had failed at attaining the priesthood, Ben Flannigan was determined to excel at this profession and it was past time for more challenging quarry.
He rummaged in his pack until he found his tattered copy of “The Vampyre” by John Polidori. Ever since he had read the story, a question had invaded his mind and refused to be ignored. Could a vampire truly pose as a member of the nobility?
The more he thought about it, the more he concluded such a thing was indeed possible. He’d read that those in the ranks of high society engaged in mindless revelry until dawn and then slept the day away during the social season. The rest of their time they spent sequestered on their country estates. A vampire could do very well in such an environment if it were very powerful and extremely clever.
The last line of the story was a whispered echo in the back of his mind, filling him with an odd mixture of dread and predatory titillation: “The guardians hastened to protect Miss Aubrey; but when they arrived, it was too late. Lord Ruthven had disappeared, and Aubrey’s sister had glutted the thirst of a VAMPYRE!”
Ah, to face such a clever enemy, to cast off its mask and expose its deception to all before dispatching the abomination back to hell. The thought warmed Ben like the flames of a Yule log. He longed to try his hand at such prey.
Aside from the fact that travel to London, not to mention lodgings, would be costly, Ben had put off his decision to go there for well over a year. After all, facing an ancient vampire would be nothing like the younglings he had slain. His teacher, God rest his soul, had told him such stories.
But now, after fourteen kills, nine of those in the last year, Ben was ready. He could feel it down to the marrow of his very bones.
Five
Angelica blinked in joyous disbelief as she watched the last servant leave Burnrath House for the evening. The maid had left the door ajar! Fate must be smiling down upon her this day. She sent a silent prayer heavenward in thanks for the duke’s eccentric policy of leaving his house unstaffed after the day’s chores were finished.
Today she would finally get inside the place that had held her imagination in thrall for years. She scooped up her pocket watch from the bureau and checked the time. Liza would be up to wake her from her nap at dark. That would give Angelica nearly two hours to explore the house safely.