Blood for the Vampiress Ch. 04

"My dear, you're forgetting the most useful tool in luring a vampire to its demise," he said in a genteel voice. He might as well have been commenting on the texture of his favorite tea.

"Oh?" said Alex, her eyes flickering from the road and meeting her mentor's own.

"Bait," Doctor Malcolm St. Graves said, and he chuckled.

It took them an hour on the bumpy road, and then another off it. The vehicles kicked up clouds of dust until they finally pulled to a crunching stop at their destination. Bridget Briswell sighed, feeling small and vulnerable. An opening like a mouth yawned before them in a craggy rock wall. Darkness slithered within the shaft. Bridget could hardly believe they were going to willingly walk into it.

"This is crazy," she said, her voice weak and shivery.

Melvin craned his neck to look at her and said, "You don't have to go if you don't feel up to it."

Bridget shook her head. She was going to go. She had to.

They climbed out of the vehicles, and St. Graves handed out flashlights and directions to stay close together and keep their pace steady but cautious. The vampire hunter wore a white suit and white panama hat, interesting choices considering they were likely to get stained crimson. Alexandria licked her lips and kept sneaking peeks into the shaft as if she could hardly wait to get her hands bloody with whatever might lurk there. They made quite a pair, Melvin thought and remembered the vampire in the basement, the one the hunter and his apprentice had so ruthlessly tortured and killed. Melvin could not bring himself to completely trust them. No one should take such obvious joy from pain.

St. Graves slapped a flashlight into Melvin's palm. He said, "If anything happens, allow myself and Ms. Knight to take care of it. We've dealt with these kinds of things before, and we'll all stay safer that way. Agreed?"

"I'm no slouch at fighting the forces of darkness," Morgan interjected, and the St. Graves gave her a comforting pat on the shoulder. Morgan did not seem to appreciate the gesture, and blue fire flamed in her eyes as they narrowed.

"All the same," he said as he pulled his pistol from its holder and flipped open the barrel, checking it. "Alexandria and I prefer to only admit ourselves to the maximum danger."

"What are you going to do with that?" Melvin said, motioning with his free hand at the pistol. The vampire hunter petted the gun like a beloved animal, and the weapon gleamed in the bright Arizona sun as if filled with an internal flame.

"Silver bullets. They may not strike a mortal blow, but I find silver hurts the undead a hell of a lot."

No one noticed the uncomfortable expression spread over Ol' Karl's leathery face.

***

The shaft was cool and dark, and a faint breeze occasionally whistled over the small group, smelling of earth and things long buried. Karl led them forward with his flashlight beam stabbing the dark.

"The rush to California had been a few years before, an' by the time some of the Easterners made their way towards it, California had all but dried up as most were concerned. Still, people made their way west and kept their eyes peeled for the next lucky strike," Karl said, his words echoing and throaty, and Bridget half-wanted him to shut up so she wouldn't have to his spectral voice bouncing off the walls and half-appreciated the noise so she wouldn't go crazy in the overwhelming black silence of the mine.

"Then some damned fool finds gold out here, and the town springs up near overnight, and then everybody's out with their picks and shovels clawin' the mountains fer riches," Karl continued.

Melvin tuned out the story, having figured out most of the details on his own. He examined the rock walls of the mine. No signs of gold shone back at him. He thought of the men in the mine, hunched over, picks peeling back rock in the surrounding dark. How had they felt stumbling across a woman chained in the wall? He imagined his flashlight happening across a pale white foot or hand, and he shivered. Then Melvin noticed something scratched on the rock, something that looked like claw marks and something that looked like a broken nail but how-

A fetid scent tainted a breeze. Something like a giggle rode it.

"Did you hear that?" Melvin asked, and the group paused. They ran their flashlights up and down the floor, the walls, the darkness of the shaft before and behind them.

"No," Knight replied. She sounded annoyed.

"And then they found her," Karl said, resuming his story.

Another giggle, louder and clear. It danced out of the dark.

"I heard it," Morgan said. She swung her flashlight into the shaft, the light swallowed by shadowy black. Melvin loved her more in the moment than he ever had, if only because she proved he wasn't crazy.

Bridget felt her breath catch in her throat. She heard a click- St. Graves cocking his pistol. Bridget felt everyone tensing around her. Her flashlight trembled in her hands, and she steadied it. She couldn't lose it now. Not just the flashlight but any semblance of calm that she might have stored up within her body. She needed to hold onto it... with a stranglehold if necessary

"Who's there?" Knight called. Silence replied.

Then a child's voice cut through the shaft: "We smeeeeellllllll yoooooooooooooou!"

And they came out of the darkness and into the murky yellow light of the flashlight beams, crawling, slithering, clawing their way forward on bellies and mutant limbs, things that might have once been infants or some even the unborn, misshapen and unformed, their little eyes flickering to life like fireflies, their little mouths filled with sharp razors. Teeth?

Babies don't have teeth, Bridget thought, her mind racing. Babies DON'T have teeth.

Then she started screaming.

"The unwanted!" Karl cried, and he was screaming, too. No! Laughing! Bridget flashed her light at him and saw his skin pulling and twisting, something UNDER his skin struggling to break free, to burst up and out of his body and take control.

St. Graves' pistol fired, and one of the creatures flew back out of sight, black blood splattering the mine wall like thrown oil. It squealed, and the sound drove nails into Bridget's sanity.

The rest of the monsters continued on, heedless of the loss. They bore their razor-mouths and giggled and slither-staggered closer.

"Get back!" Morgan shouted, and Bridget tried to warn them, tried to tell them, but all she could do was scream. Melvin noticed her, noticed where she was looking, and twisted back and saw what she saw, and a sharp cry bellowed out of his throat.

"No, it's Karl! We're trapped!"

Karl's hands became something like claws, then paws, and his face elongated into a snarling rabid snout. His back cracked, and he bent to all fours, his mouth foaming; his knees turned inward on themselves and then popped back, and dark coarse hair bristled out of his pores, making a sound like rustling straw.

An insane thought flew through Melvin's mind: Yes, dear friends, Ol' Karl is a fucking werewolf.

The wolf leapt into the group, and St. Graves swung his pistol and fired but missed, the round cracking into the ceiling of the mine and showering them with bits of rock. Then the wolf pounced on his chest, and the pistol was flung out of his hands, flipping into the dark.

One of the baby-creatures silently crept behind Bridget and sunk its teeth into her calf. She cried and batted at the thing with her flashlight, blood blooming from her wound and spilling down her thigh. She could feel it spooling in her shoe, soaking through her sock.

The little bastard fell off and Bridget kicked it as hard as she could into the shaft. It disappeared with a high-pitched wail.

Alexandria flung her body at the wolf and managed to knock it off St. Graves; a rabid grunt rose from her chest and exploded as she pummeled the wolf's ribs with her fists.

"Fuck this!" Morgan yelled, and fire erupted out of her fingers. Melvin had seen this before and knew what to expect, diving low and rolling to one side as a plume of flame singed the dirt next to him. The creatures, tumbling and pulling themselves over one another with their effort to get to their fresh meal, began to scream as the fire consumed them. Undeterred, covered in oranges flames, many of them still came on, their fiery limps flapping as if they were flaming penguins.

The wolf twisted and swiped at Alexandria Knight with its claws. Lines of torn flesh appeared on her chest and suddenly blossomed with blood; she screamed and kicked the wolf in the head and tumbled towards the ground. Melvin lost sight of her. St. Graves fought his way to his feet, creatures hanging from his arms and legs like Christmas ornaments; some had escaped Morgan's blaze. He pulled one off his thigh and threw it to the floor before stomping on its head. Mush exploded beneath the old man's boot.

"Run!" Morgan called through the smoke. "Run!"

They did. In all directions.

Except Alexandria. The wolf lunged at her, and she threw up her arms and felt the teeth sink through her flesh and strike bone. The wolf flung its head, shredding her forearms, and Alex kicked at it with all her might, but the wolf would not let go. Intense, unbelievable pain roared through her body, but she could not give up the fight. She felt the others crowding around her, not her friends but the disgusting things that had crawled up the shaft looking for a live meal. The unborn undead, she knew. She had never seen any before, but she had heard stories.

And now they had come for her.

Through the wolf's growling snarls Alexandria could make out words: "Tell the Dark Prince I send this offering."

"I'll tell 'im to fuck himself!" she spat.

Then she felt the tiny teeth on her legs and stomach and head, and the wolf was at her throat, drool dripping on her prone skin, its teeth on her neck, and then the teeth closed with a snap and blood splashed on her face and Alexandria Knight was no more.

***

Melvin realized with a sickening twist of his innards that he was lost. Somewhere, somehow he had gotten turned around or the mine had forked or something. Either way, he figured he was a dead man.

Melvin sighed and dropped to his knees. His legs felt like rubber under him. He had run until he had nothing left, his lungs a burning hurt in his chest. He dipped his head into his hands and wondered what the hell had happened. He thought about those things- those hairless white sacks of death with razor-filled mouths, and he sobbed, remembering his friends covered in them.

His one hope was that Morgan had made it. She was strong, and she could take care of herself. He wished she was here with him. He'd definitely feel safer.

Something brushed against his neck, something metallic. Having lost his flashlight in the scuffle, Melvin raised his hand and felt the wall above his head. He happened across a chain; it clinked musically as he groped it. It ended in what felt like a handcuff.

Melvin remembered the story about finding the woman in the cave. Could this be where?

Then, out of the darkness, a smooth female voice came to life, and Melvin felt a chill envelope him. The voice sounded like it was smiling.

"So, you've finally made it."

Two, red-flaming eyes blinked to life in the dark and soared towards him.