Bite Me, Your Grace

“Dinna be ashamed, my son,” Donald had said. “For the Lord in his infinite wisdom and mercy has a calling for such as yerself. There be many hidden evils in the world and ’tis the job of folk like ourselves to eradicate ’em. I see the makings of a fine hunter in ye.”

 

 

“A hunter?” He wondered if perhaps Donald was mad, but still the man’s use of the word “calling” intrigued him, invoking a faint thrill of hope.

 

O’Flannery nodded and loaded his pipe. “If ye’ll join me for supper an’ a pint or two of fine ale at the inn down the road, I’ll explain all.”

 

Ben shoved his hands in his pockets. “That depends. Though my vow of poverty has ended, my funds have not improved.”

 

Donald chuckled. “It will be my coin this time. And if you remain with me, poverty will be a distant memory before long.”

 

After the first pint, Ben was wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. “I appreciate the drink, but this heap of blarney is a wee bit too much. Vampires indeed!”

 

With a strange smile on his face, O’Flannery raised a brow at him and ordered their glasses refilled. “Vampires,” he continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted, “are masters of deception. They have remained hidden for centuries by pretending to be human…”

 

By the time they were finishing the third pint, Ben was torn between admiration for Donald’s ability to spin such a great yarn… and the slight kernel of belief that was sprouting in his breast. The idea that such monsters could exist right under the noses of civilization was horrifying, and yet the thought of becoming the hero who dispatched them was undeniably seductive.

 

“Do you have proof that these creatures exist?” he whispered, after the barkeep was out of hearing range.

 

Donald’s smile was a predatory grimace. “Meet me at the old St. Thomas cemetery at dawn tomorrow.”

 

The next morning, Ben felt silly as he greeted O’Flannery in the moldering old graveyard. He wished he’d stayed in bed until his headache abated.

 

“Now, I’ve been leaving this one alone because it hasn’t been bothering anyone,” Donald said as he opened the rusty gates. “Not only that,” he added with a wry grin as he chewed on his pipe. “There’s no profit in this job. But for the sake of your education, I suppose I’ll have to deal with the creature.”

 

He led Ben to an ancient crypt covered with ivy and removed a pry bar from his pack.

 

“Is there really a vampire in there?” Ben asked, still unable to believe that he was here participating in this foolishness.

 

O’Flannery ignored him and set to work on opening the tomb.

 

Ben’s pulse raced as he followed Donald into the crypt. Spiders and other vile creatures fled from the morning light. A pile of bones lay in a shadowed corner. The stone slab they had rested on was now occupied by a fresh corpse… or was it? Ben gasped as he saw its chest rise and fall softly. The thing was alive.

 

With speed and strength that seemed almost godlike, Donald pounded a stake through the thing’s breast with a heavy mallet and then cleaved the head from its body with one powerful strike of his ax.

 

Ben recoiled when Donald picked up the head and thrust it at him. “Take this while I drag the body outside.”

 

His gorge rose, but he suppressed it and followed O’Flannery back out into the daylight. Donald chuckled at Ben’s cry of surprise when the corpse began to turn red and smolder.

 

“Drop the head here,” he ordered as he pulled a jug from his pack, uncapped it, and circled the remains while pouring out the holy water.

 

“Amazing,” Ben whispered as he watched the flames engulf the vampire’s head and body. “Will you teach me?”

 

Now here he was in London, having surpassed Donald’s legacy long ago. And best of all, there were no vows of poverty, chastity, or obedience. Ben Flannigan was his own man, beholden to no one… and the money wasn’t very meager either.

 

His meal arrived and Ben lifted his glass of ale in his customary toast to the memory of his teacher. Donald had gotten clumsy in his old age. He didn’t strike quickly enough before the last vampire awoke and flung the hunter against the wall, shattering his spine and killing him instantly.

 

Ben had barely gotten out of the cave alive. The creature had been so enraged that it had lunged out of the opening and into the sunlight, grasping Ben’s collar. Only when the monster’s face and arm caught fire did it release him.

 

Ben shuddered at the memory, which still gave him nightmares. He’d never been to Spain since. Just as he was sopping up the last of the gravy from his plate with a crusty roll, a young lad arrived at his elbow, looking ready to topple from the weighty stack of newspapers he held. Ben took the papers and tousled the scamp’s hair, then gave him a coin. “That’s a good lad.”