Bite Me, Your Grace

Twenty-five


Ben Flannigan smiled as he caressed the smooth sides of the stake he carried, hewn from finely carved ash. When he’d first arrived at Burnrath House, he had been tempted to give up, take the money, and seek easier quarry, for the duke spent his daylight hours in a seemingly impenetrable fortress. The entire upper floor of the imposing Elizabethan mansion was boarded up tightly, not allowing the slightest bit of light, and the house was filled with vigilant servants. If that wasn’t enough to deter him, callers dropped by unexpectedly and with steady frequency, despite the nearing conclusion of the season.

But when he saw the ethereal creature that was the duke’s human bride, dressed in a fetching bottle-green carriage dress and with a winsome smile playing across her lush lips, he rethought his position. Surely this innocent woman deserved to be liberated from the monster’s clutches. Feeling rather like a knight of old rescuing a damsel in distress, he resigned himself to more chilly nights in the abandoned gatehouse.

When he heard the faint, but unmistakable sound of a violent quarrel, he longed to rush to the lady’s defense. The vampire’s enraged roars seemed to shake the house, and if he could hear them from outside, he knew that the poor woman was being subjected to a most terrible wrath. The duke strode out of the house in inhuman, ground-devouring steps, and for one panic-stricken moment, Ben feared discovery. He huddled deep in the prickly bushes, clutching his crucifix until its sharp edges bit into his palm and drew blood, mouthing frantic prayers. As he hid and prayed, he could swear that he heard the duchess sobbing her heart out.

To his delight, the next day, he overheard the gardeners gossiping about the quarrel. The previous night, the duke had ordered the duchess from his bedchamber. Though Ben still had no plan as to how he could steal into the house undetected, things had been made much easier if the vampire was sleeping alone. At night, when the monster departed to satisfy his blasphemous hunger, Ben scouted the house as carefully as he could, trying to find a way in. Unfortunately, he found nothing before the creature returned.

But near dawn, his vigilance granted him another boon. The vampire left the house once more. There was only one reason a vampire would leave an area so close to daylight. He must be resting in a different location! He followed the duke but lost sight of him in the rear gardens, close to the mausoleum. Ben had suspected the mausoleum from the very first, but after examining every inch of the marble structure, he had determined that it had been sealed for centuries.

For days and days he searched for the vampire’s lair, only stopping to go to town for food and baths. He grew more dejected as each sunset graced the world, unleashing the evil blood drinker to prey upon innocent people yet again. But still Ben remained, resolved to pursue his noble cause.

As darkness crept in, Ben found himself in the rear garden, ready to face the vampire in combat if necessary. A heavy scraping sound came from behind him. He whirled around to see the rear of the mausoleum moving. Quickly he dove into the bushes before the vampire emerged from a secret door on the back. Ben cursed himself for being a negligent fool. Apparently he hadn’t examined that area with sufficient scrutiny.

When he was certain the vampire was gone, Ben rushed to the mausoleum and inspected every inch of the structure. Two hours later, he figured out how to operate the mechanism to open the hidden door. Smiling with satisfaction, he returned to the gatehouse to await the dawn.

As he waited, he checked over his arsenal of vampire-killing implements. His extensive travels made him an expert on local vampire legends all over Europe. He had two stakes carved of ash, though hopefully only one would be sufficient. His pack also held a large jug of holy water with which to drench the creature, an ax to sever its head, garlic cloves to stuff into its mouth, and an iron cross to place over the corpse. The bloodsucking demon would not rise again to ravish another mortal when the hunter was finished.

Ben settled in for the long wait, alternately reciting the Lord’s Prayer and pleading for the duchess’s immortal soul. Perhaps when the deed was done he could tell her of his heroism and console her and help her to cleanse away her sins. He rested his arms behind his head and lay back while he envisioned her petite figure and angelic face, her round, upthrust breasts and luscious lips. He sighed in pleasure as he indulged in a fantasy of her in his arms, clinging to his strength and weeping delicate tears of gratitude.

“Soon, my dear,” he whispered, “Soon you will be safe from that terrible monster, safe with me.”