by Alasdair McLean
Allow me to introduce myself: I'm Will McCormack, and right at this moment I have a problem. I'm dead, but that's not the problem. Actually I have been dead for quite some time: one year to be exact. You see, I'm a vampire!
My problem is quite simply this: I'm a student at Glasgow University, my landlady is badgering me for three weeks rent, my girlfriend is hundreds of miles away doing a project for her degree, and my grant cheque has just bounced into orbit. This is not a good start to the weekend.
"McCormack!!", The irritated shout that you just heard was my landlady, although I personally wouldn't classify her as a lady, "I know you're in there, lazy good-for-nothing student, Where's my rent??"
I suppose that I could try to explain to her that my grant cheque has bounced and blame the government, try to appeal to her sense of charity.
What sense of charity?
"I don't get my rent, all of it, by Friday, you'll be out on your ear. I ken you're in there, McCormack!" I can hear a key turning in the lock on the door to my flat.
I think I'm in a little trouble.
However, there are distinct advantages to being dead.
My form seems to dissolve into a thin mist and then reform into the form of a small rodent, a black-furred rat, a large one too. Mrs McNally really hates rats.
"McCormack, McCormack!", she shouts as she picks her way through the organised chaos that is my flat.
She turns into the room where I am waiting for her, I had set it up as a sort of study. She looks about the room shaking her head in disgust, her hair is an odd shade of blue.
Eventually she moves over to the chair in which I am hidden from view. I suppose I should feel guilty about frightening her.
"Yon computer looks expensive," she mutters under her breath, "Ah could take it as security for the rent."
Take my computer, an item I need for my studies, an item that cost £700 more than I owe her. Why should I feel guilty?
"Arataratarat!" she screams as she runs out of the still open door of my flat.
Maybe I should ask to have the rent lowered, due to vermin infestation. Before you laugh at that you should see some of the other residents of the building, most of them would make the Addams family seem normal.
And, before you say anything, I am the only student in the building. I'm also the only vampire in it.
As I resume my human form I think over my options. My grant has bounced, that means that the government must be bankrupt as well as corrupt, no money there.
What about the Student Union? They have a hardship fund of some kind don't they?
I look at the watch on my wrist, it's one thirty in the afternoon. I have no lectures today, might as well pop over to try to fix something up.
A short walk across the city later and I find myself in a small office that looks like a storage cupboard with a desk in it. On the far side of the room, about six feet up the wall, is a small window about a foot square in size. There are bars on the outside of it.
"C'n I hilp you?" asks the student behind the desk, who appears to be an advocate of the Grunge style of clothing, and a person who appears to have sacrificed any and all of her standards of personal hygiene.
I try not to wrinkle my nose at the smell in the small room, I think I can place the scent, Eau de sewer perhaps?
"Yes," I say trying to sound needy, "I need some money for my rent."
"What about your grant cheque?" she asks, after all it's a perfectly valid question.
"It bounced," I can tell by the look on her face that she doesn't believe me.
Sure enough her next words are, "What?"
I reach into my jacket's inside pocket and pull out The Letter from my bank manager. She silently reads The Letter and hands it back to me.
"Fill'n this form, in triplicate, 'n' we'll git back to you whin the Council has reached a decision." She pushes a form across the desk towards me. It seems to be about the size of a small novel. I notice that they want a recent passport photo, that could prove difficult.
I pick up the sheaf of papers and, trying to sound grateful, I say, "Thanks, how long'll that take?"
A bored expression flits across her face, "Dunno," she responds, "We're still wading through the first batch we got in October."
It is now mid-March.
What now?
Almost automatically as I walk out of the Union building I put my hands in my jacket pockets. My fingers brush something in the right-hand pocket. Absently my mind identifies it as a phonecard. A phonecard, that's it: I'll call my mother.
Minutes later after I have found a phone that actually works, "Yes operator, I would like to place a reverse-charge call to Toronto... Yes, I know that Toronto is in Canada... Yes, I do know what time it is there... two four five eight three seven extension five one four... Jenny McCormack... She's my mother... Yes, I'll hold."
I hate telephone operators, don't you?
"Hello, Mrs McCormack?... I'm sorry Ms McCormack, I have a reverse charge call from your son, would you... Yes, I am Glaswegian... right." There was a click as the operator removed himself from the line.
"Hi, Mum," I say brightly trying not to sound as if I need money, "How're you?"
"I was in an editorial meeting," she sounds annoyed, "this had better be good."
Oops! I think I made a little mistake.
"So, how are you?" My polite questions don't work her next words are.
"How much?" Then after I tell her she says, "Ha! Tough!"
"You're not going to help me?" this is definitely not how it was supposed to go. I was supposed to call her, she was supposed to help, maybe wire me the rent. After all, it wasn't my fault that my grant cheque bounced and I had to spend my money on things like books, and clothes.
"I didn't say that." she says in a tone of voice that had always made me worried, now was no exception, she was definitely planning something, "You, my one and only son, are going to have to get a job."
A job, she can't be serious, actual work. Oooh boy, I think I feel faint.
"The editor-in-chief of the Herald owes me a favour," she says, "I'll give him a call."
The rest of the conversation passes quietly enough.
"All goes well, you should get a call from the Herald, you do still have that camera don't you?"
I nod my head as I respond, "Aye, I've not had to pawn it yet, thanks Mum."
"Bye."
"Bye, Mum," I put the 'phone down and start to walk back to the flat. A job, what kind of job? I'm not sure I like the sound of this.
I make my way back towards my flat when a friend of mine pulls up alongside the kerb. Even before the person speaks I know who it is. There are a number of indicators for a person like myself, scent, the subtle rhythm of a persons breathing, heartbeat, etcetera.
In this case I recognise the familiar purr of my friends car, a jet black '60's Mustang.
"'Noon, Will, What's up, my friend?" Steve Wolfe is one of the few people that actually knows what I am. The same vampiress who had created me had fed from him on several occasions. As a result of Cassandra's feeding he now has matching bite marks on his neck and inner thigh. "Want a lift?" he ignores the irate honking of a taxi behind him.
I nod, the passenger door swings open and I get in.
The second I close my door Steve swings the car into the traffic narrowly avoiding hitting a police car. If it was anyone else but Steve I would be worried, but Steve is a brilliant driver.
Accelerating hard, Steve leans forward and activates the cassette player that he had installed. I laugh quietly as a familiar tune reverberates throughout the car's interior: it's "Waiting For the Wheel to turn". Despite the fact that he's Canadian, or perhaps because of it, Steve has a fascination for Celtic music, Capercaillie, Clannad, Runrig, Wolfestone, he loves them all.
I sink back into the soft upholstery, listening to the music. The next piece is "Pigue Ruadh", one of my favourites, though normally I prefer Jazz.
"So, any idea what this job will be?" he asks, trying to sound uninterested.
"No idea," I respond, not altogether truthfully. I think that it'll be a news photographer, but I'm not going to get my hopes up.
As we pull up next to the building where I live I notice the curtain of one of the lower windows stirs slightly. The window is one of Mrs McNally's.
"Fancy a drink?" I say as, sure enough Mrs McNally runs out of the door as if the devil himself was after her, or, more accurately my rent was in front of her.
Steve nods and pulls away from the kerb as she chases after us for a few feet.
Later that night as I walk towards Mrs McNally's building I try to figure out how I could try to get into my flat without her knowing. A smile slowly spreads across my face as I remember. There are many advantages to being dead. Being able to shapeshift is just one of them.
Ducking into the alleyway by the side of the ancient tenement I assume the form of a small sparrow, gaining entry through the window that I normally leave slightly ajar for the purpose of landlady evasion.
I think I really better tell you now that I'm not your average vampire. Firstly, most of what you see in the movies is a load of crap: sunlight harms very few of us. Thankfully I am not one of those unfortunates that it harms. Secondly, my shapeshifting ability is far more pronounced than others, I can assume the form of any animal. Third, religious artefacts have no effect, I discovered that after a very embarrassing incident, that involved Holy Water, inside a church.
Checking the answering machine, I find that there are no messages for me and so I leave my flat the same way I entered, this time in the form of a large barn owl, the better to hunt.
Next morning I wake bleary eyed to find the 'sweet' face of Mrs McNally staring unforgivingly down at me.
My first considered action is to scream.
I start to throw the covers off me to get up, but thankfully I remember that I sleep naked. I remain where I am and wonder how Mr McNally can bear to wake up to her 'smiling' face each day. Then I remember, I've never actually seen Mr McNally. Maybe that could explain the stench emanating from the basement.
She wastes no time on subtleties like "Good morning".
"Where's me rent?" she demands.
Good question that. Wish I knew.
The phone rings before I can think of a snappy response. It's the personnel manager from the Herald. There is a god.
After a two minute conversation I am an employee of the Herald, a news photographer. Now for that snappy comeback.
"Never fear, Mrs M," I say, trying to sound convincing, "Believe it or not but, thanks to the intervention of my Mother, you shall shortly be the proud owner of the aforementioned rent."
She looks at me, disbelief written across her face in sixteen foot high letters of flame. She says nothing.
"I've got a job," I try again, "with the Herald."
She still says nothing. She looks around the room, possibly trying to locate my wallet, which is safely hidden. There's nothing of any value in it any way.
"Could you please leave?" I ask, "I mean I've got a lecture in," I check the clock on the wall, "five minutes." Without uttering so much as a word she leaves the room. I really must see about doing something about her having a key.
After two years of university life, I have my speed preparation routine down to a fine art. It only takes me two minutes to get washed and dressed, actually because I do them both at the same time.
Once dressed I gather my books and set of at a dead run for the lecture hall. Halfway there I realise what day it is, it's Saturday, no lectures.
Aaargh!!
The personnel manager wanted me to drop by as soon as possible. Evidently it was possible sooner than anticipated.
Not having a car I take a bus to the Herald offices. Once I'm there the receptionist, a blonde girl in her mid-twenties with a perpetually bored expression on her face, sends me straight up to the editor's office.
He is not happy to see me.
"McCormack?" When I nod the affirmative he merely glowers at me, "Look, kid, the only reason I'm giving you this job is because I owe your mother a favour." That's one really strange thing about my mother, she knows everybody.
The editor, a man in his late forties with a crew-cut that's greying round the edges reminds me strongly of two people: a biology teacher I had for a couple of years at school, he is responsible for my intense dislike of biology. The teacher was a sort of mini-Hitler, I hated him; and the J Jonah Jameson character from the Spiderman comics. The name on the door was Dave Black.
The 'phone rings and the editor picks it up. After a few moments of nodding and a few growls of assent he slams the receiver down and bellows, "Parker!!"
It can't be. If this person is called Peter Parker, then I'm leaving.
A very tall, very shapely brunette pops her head into the office, "Yeah, boss?" she says, ignoring my presence entirely.
"They've found a body, Kilmardinny Loch, Bearsden. Go check it out." After a moment he adds, "Take 'Cormack here with you, he's your new photographer."
Nodding silently she heads for the door, I have to run to keep up with her.
"Got your camera with you?" she asks over her shoulder, when I shake my head she says, "Why the Hell not? How d'you expect to take pictures of things without your bloody camera?"
As we get into the lift I reply, "I didn't expect to be sent out right away, that was just my interview."
My 'partner' just snorts and pushes the button for the car park. "Fine," she says in a tone that means she thinks it's anything but okay, "We'll stop by your place to pick it up."
The lift shudders to a halt and we head out into the dingy underground parking lot used by the Herald staff. As we get into her car she turns and says to me, "By the way, where do you live?"
I give her my address and we both get into the car, a beaten up little Ford Fiesta.
As we pull into the traffic Jessica pops a tape into the stereo. And, what a tape!
The sweetest sounds I have ever heard from a car stereo, the sound is very distinctive. The notes fill the car like bullets shot from a cracked bell. I can feel the smile that spreads slowly across my face.
"Bix!"
I hear the surprise in her voice as she cuts in front of a taxi saying, "You like Jazz?"
I nod, trying not to wince as she slips the car through a gap between two eighteen-wheelers, the gap was precisely two inches bigger than the Fiesta. She would get on great with Steve, they both drive like maniacs.
I close my eyes and listen to the sweet sound of Bix's horn, I try to forget where I am, and how Jessica drives. The sound of another car's horn goes off in my left ear, rendering that impossible.
God, she drives worse than Steve.
In an impossibly short time we're at my flat, while I run up to get my camera and some film she turns the car. Amazingly I don't run into Mrs McNally.
When I reach the pavement beside the car Jessica is revving the engine of her little car impatiently. The second I have the door closed we leap into the traffic, leaving about an inch of rubber on the roadside.
I close my eyes and try to listen to what Jessica is saying, "Here's the scoop: a body's been found in the woodland near Kilmardinny Loch, it's apparently been very badly mutilated, they think it was done by a large dog, like a Doberman. Kicker is: a lot of the body is missing!"
She pauses and I feel the car shift suddenly sideways. I try not to open my eyes.
"The boss wants us to go down there and see what's up," Trying to concentrate on her voice I estimate the time it should take to get to Kilmardinny. Too long the way she drives.
"William?" she sounds amused, "You okay?"
I open one of my eyes as I reply, "It's Will, and, ah, could you please slow down, just a little bit?"
"Right," she's laughing at me, little sadist, "Call me Jess." Thankfully she eases her right foot of the accelerator. A mile later we pass a couple of policemen operating a radar gun.
Jess merely lifts one eyebrow as if to say, "That's odd."
The police presence is obvious as soon as we turn off Milngavie Road. The police have set up one of their portable incident rooms. Pulling into the side of the road I notice that we appear to be the first Press onto the scene.
Getting out of the car I snap a few shots of the scene just in case.
We walk over to the incident room. Almost immediately we are intercepted by a tired-looking constable, he had probably already been on duty for several hours when the call went up about this mess.
"Hi, Bob," says Jess, "Boss around?"
The constable looks skyward, "I should've known you'd show up."
"Always do," she agreed easily enough. Before he could say anything else she pointed out towards the loch, "There's the DI now, along with his ever present sidekicks."
Without another word she shouldered past the constable with a shout of, "Inspector Reid, can we have a word?"
A tall dark-haired man in a shabby business suit and a hat turned towards us as I ran after her. As soon as he saw Jess his expression changed from grim determination to even grimmer determination. The Inspector did not appear to be happy to see us.
On either side of him are the aforementioned sidekicks, Little and Large. Little is a short woman in her late twenties. She reminded me of a RAF Regiment drill instructor who had tried to whip my University Air Squadron into a group that could march. I'm sorry to say that it was an attempt destined to failure. We all had a minimum of two left feet, this made drill rather difficult (especially when you consider that a few of my comrades that didn't have two left feet got their left and right mixed up a lot).
Large is a tall man of about the same age, I think that he's about seven feet tall, and about the same width. He is, to use a very Scottish expression 'built like a brick shit-house'. He was all muscle.
Neither Little or Large seemed terribly happy to see us. Little swore vociferously under her breath, while Large simply looked as if he wanted to throttle us on the spot, maybe a little police brutality?
"Ms Parker, how nice to see you," the look on the Inspector's face told us what he really felt, "What can we do for you?"
Jess looks wary, as if she suspects a catch, "Are you all right?" she asks.
Little spoke up, "We've had orders to co-operate fully with the Press on this matter." She spat out the word 'fully' as if it tasted horrible, it probably did.
"So, what's up?" she looks around as the Inspector leads us away from the road.
"See for yourself." he indicates a clump of bushes by the lochside. The pathologist, a thin, balding man in his early thirties, is standing over the body shaking his head in puzzlement.
The corpse is barely recognisable as the remains of a human female, scraps of clothing are draped over the body. Very little of the actual body remains intact, the woman's face is too badly mauled to be of any use in identifying her. The whole corpse appears to have been picked almost to the bone.
Feeling like some sort of ghoul I snap off a few more shots. I'm ignored. As we near the body I smell a strange musky smell, it's familiar, but different. I can't quite place what it reminds me of. Something about this whole thing feels wrong. I look around before bending down to tie my shoe lace.
"Who is she?" asks Jess as she scribbles things into a notebook she produced from one of her pockets.
Large speaks up in a very deep voice that seems to come from deep within the very Earth itself, "We don't know yet, all we have to go on are the dental records, and this." He held out a plastic baggy containing a thin scrap of... a dog's leash?
"Our guess is that the dog savaged the owner, and then escaped into the night." This from the Inspector himself, "We're trying to locate the dog at this moment."
As I straighten up from tying my shoe laces I find myself saying, "Don't bother."
Suddenly I'm the centre of attention, I don't very much like it.
"What do you mean?" asks Inspector Reid from underneath his hat.
Jess just looks at me silently.
I try to put what I am thinking into words, "Where are the girl's footprints?"
All three look at me as if I have just sprouted horns.
"How did she get over there, behind the bush. There are no footprints from her shoes, no marks on the ground where the dog dragged her, in fact there are no footprints at all."
Looking around again I continue, "Any dog that could do that to a human would have to be huge, that lead wouldn't be able to hold it."
As if on cue a uniformed Constable shouts, "Inspector, something here I think you should see!"
Walking over I take photo of the scene.
When we get to him, we see the policeman, a young lad about my age, pointing to a small clump of bushes, "Sir... I..."
He is pointing at the remains of what appears to be part of a Yorkshire terrier, which part I'm not exactly sure. Hating myself for it, I take a picture. The tag on the collar is still intact, it reads 'Muffin'.
I think I'm going to be sick.
The young constable is sick, violently.
Large points a few feet to our right, "There's the rest of Muffin."
Deep breaths... In... Out... Concentrate on... music. The theme from the Beiderbecke Connection starts to rattle around my head. I concentrate on it to take my mind off the gore. It almost works.
"Anything else, 'Detective'?" the sarcasm in the Inspector's voice is evident.
I shake my head and check my camera for the sake of having something to do. One thought rattles around my head fighting for attention: What on Earth did this? It certainly wasn't any dog.
"Call us when you get the pathologists report," shouts Jess as she walks towards her car whistling "River King". Before we're halfway there she turns to me saying, "Will, have a quick word with the pathologist, Jim David, that's him over by the body."
Putting my camera back into my back-pack I trudge back over to the clump of bushes trying to ignore the strange smell, and the fact that it's started to rain slightly. Trying, and not succeeding to ignore the remains less than a foot away I ask, "What d'you reckon?"
Remembering that I'm with the Herald he asks warily, "On or off the record?"
Shrugging my shoulders I reply, "What ever."
"Jim David," he says extending his hand.
"Will McCormack," I say as we shake hands.
Just then the van arrives to take the body, what remains of it, to the morgue. Jim moves over to the van, "I won't say anything, one way or the other, till I've completed my examination," he shouts over to me, "I'll give you a call when I'm done, you're with the Herald, right?" At my nod of affirmation he gives me a jaunty salute and gets into the vehicle.
How any one can be cheerful in a situation like this, in weather like this is beyond me. The day is shaping into one of those dreary grey days for which Glasgow is renowned. All I want to do is go home, put on one of my tapes, and slip into a nice warm bath. I don't think I'm going to get that option somehow.
As I get into the Fiesta Jess puts her foot down, and we speed off into the light mist that has fallen over Bearsden, and probably over the rest of the city. As the car turns back onto Milngavie Road we pass a BBC outside broadcast unit heading for the loch.
Driving back to the Herald Jess asks me what Jim said. "Nothing much," I tell her, "He says he's going to call us at the paper once he's done his examination."
"Fair enough," she says, "I'm hungry, want a bite to eat?"
Food? I can't ingest solid food at all at the best of times, now that I'm undead. But, to think of food at a time like this. The music Will, concentrate on the music!
"No," I reply searching my mind for an excuse, any excuse, "I couldn't eat anything right now." The image of the woman's remains floats before my eyes. "I think I'll develop those pictures."
She looks at me out of the corner of her eyes, "Back to your flat then?" I nod and she drives swiftly back to my place.
Once I'm out of the car she leans across the passenger seat towards the open door, saying, "As soon as the shots are done, bring 'em over to the office."
"Why the hurry?" I ask puzzled, "The next edition of the Herald isn't out until Monday, unless you know something I don't?"
She laughs, "Nope, it's just that the sooner you get those shots over to the paper, the sooner I'll be able to complete my article and go home!"
"Right," I say turning to go into my flat, "Bye!"
Behind me I hear the car door slam and the screeching of tires on the tarmac as my partner zooms of into the traffic, narrowly avoiding running a Robin Reliant three-wheeler off the road.
Despite the fact that I only got up, I check my watch, five hours ago, I feel bone weary. I think that before I develop the photos I'll have a nice long soak in a piping hot bath.
Miracle of Miracles I manage to get up the stairs to my flat for a second time that day without bumping into the dreaded Mrs McNally. Good job, I probably would only swear at her.
I languish in the aforementioned Piping Hot Bath for about an hour before I decide to do anything about the photos.
Developing them, I'm reminded of the horror I felt at the scene, what could cause such horrible wounds? It must have been one of the packs of stray dogs that sometimes roam the city. But, that doesn't make sense.
After I've finished developing the photos I drop them off at the office before going back to my little flat to finish a program on my computer. I sit down at my computer with a hot cup of black coffee (I can still consume liquids, though they don't provide any nourishment), the time is five twenty seven.
The next time I look at my clock it's one thirty two in the morning, and unsurprisingly what's left of my coffee is stone cold. And, I'm hungry. Since my girlfriend is away I must hunt. Opening my window slightly I shift into a owl and fly into the dark night air.
I think I should explain just now that though I hunt, unlike the few other vampires I've met, when I have to hunt I feed from small animals, like rabbits, sheep, cattle, and I never kill. Normally I would feed from Lorna Harker my, human, girlfriend, with her permission of course.
When I finally return from my hunt I'm fully fed and, I notice the light on my answering machine is blinking. Resuming my human form I press the button:
"Beep — Will, Will, c'mon Will pick up. Pick up the damn 'phone McCormack... Okay, look it's two twenty, meet me at the woods behind the sports centre in Bearsden. There's been another attack. — Beep."
I check my watch, it's two thirty, I can still make it. But how to get there quickly, Bearsden is on the other side of town. Of course I can always fly! Grabbing my camera case I shift into the form of a falcon and fly over to the scene as fast as I can.
When I get there I land just out of sight so I can reform unseen, then I walk down the driveway to the gathering of police and, of course to my partner Jess.
She is not very happy to see me.
For that matter no one is very happy, least of all me. I just want to go to my bed, hopefully without nightmares.
It's worse than before, the body is virtually unidentifiable as human, never mind identifying the sex of the victim. I scent the same strange odour as before, I put it down to the smell of death.
Little and Large are over in the Incident caravan, taking statements from the couple who discovered the body. The only people near the mess are myself and Jess, plus a few uniformed constables who look as if they would rather be in a nice warm bed. I know the feeling.
"Morning Will," I recognise the voice instantly, Jim David.
Trying to sound conversational Jess asks, "So, Mr David, what happened?"
After few moments silence Jim spoke in a worried voice, "I don't know."
A glint of silver by the edge of the cordoned off area catches my eye. Surreptitiously I reach over the line and pluck the object from the ground. It appears to be an ID bracelet of some sort.
"It's an SOS bracelet," explains Jim looking interested, "Diabetics usually wear them, in case they collapse, it tells anyone that that person is a diabetic and what to do."
"Hmph, evidently our victim was a diabetic." says Jess as she pulls her notebook out of one of her pockets.
I'm about to say something but Jim gets there first, "Maybe," he says running his fingers through what's left of his hair, "This bracelet was ripped of the wearers wrist, there should be a mark on the wrist were it dug into the flesh." Reaching over to the body he flips off the tarp covering it. One at a time he checks the corpse's wrists, and...
"Nothing," he says, "This bracelet didn't belong to the victim."
"So, who did it belong to?" This from Inspector Reid who had apparently appeared out of the thin air, "Thanks for the report, Jim. I've never seen such a long-winded 'I don't know' in my career."
Jim just shrugs his shoulders, "I don't know what killed them, it certainly wasn't a dog."
"But, the bite marks, and claw marks...?" asks Jess indicating the remains.
"Were not caused by any dog," Jim looks around and then continues, "They're too damn big. I showed them to a friend at the zoo, he said it looked like the result of a wolf kill." The Inspector looks as if he is about to say something, but Jim continues, "No, there are no escaped wolves in the area, and any natural wolves were hunted down and exterminated a long time ago. Besides, the gaps between the claw marks are far too large for a wolf... I think we've got a psychopath on our hands."
"Ooooh no, not another Slasher, that was only a year ago."
The "Slasher" in case you were wondering was the name the press gave to the person responsible for the (un)deaths of several female University students. The "Slasher" was actually a master vampire who had been undead for over two thousand years. He was trying to create an army of undead to try to destroy his enemies, both mortal and... otherwise.
With the help of a couple of very inept "vampire hunters", one of those enemies, and the girl who was later to become my girlfriend, Lorna Harker, he was destroyed in his lair in the Necropolis.
It looks like the Inspector will be happy, it's definitely not another vampire. As far as I know I'm the only one in Glasgow.
"No clues as to the identity of whoever did this?" asks Jess.
Or whatever.
Now, why did I think that?
The Inspector is speaking, I better pay attention, "Nothing, no tracks, no scuff marks, no clothing fragments, no signs of a fight, the wounds don't add up, 'n' damn all evidence of any kind!"
"Whatever killed them, it did so before they could react." Jim is staring off into the depths of the forest, thinking. Realising where he is he turns his attention back to us, "If you'll think back to my report, Nigel, you'll remember I said she died instantly when her neck was snapped." He looks at the tarp covering the body, "At a guess I'd say the same happened here, the killer snapped this poor sod's neck. How, I don't know, yet."
Jess taps me on the shoulder, "I think we should call it a night." We start to walk towards her car and she says, "Want a ride?"
"Aye, thanks," I say. All I really want to do is crawl into a nice warm bed, and then sleep for a week. Unfortunately I don't think that's too likely. What day is it tomorrow, I look at my watch, today? Sunday, Ah, good, a long lie!
"Don't worry, I'll drive carefully," says Jess as I get into the Fiesta, checking that the seatbelt is secure. It is.
The drive back to my flat is amazingly terror-less, Jess drives just under the legal limit. At my questioning look she points to a piece of yellow paper on the dashboard, a speeding ticket.
Once in my flat I go straight into my bed, without bothering to lock my door. I collapse in a heap on top of the covers, and I sleep.
I sleep, and, I dream.
I'm in a dark forest, it reminds me of the "Forest of Perpetual Night and Terrible Danger" from "The Princess Bride". The trees overshadow the path like great monsters with claws that seem to reach out to grasp at my body.
I am not alone in this terrible place, I am being stalked. By what or who, I know not.
There is something behind me.
I turn suddenly, but there is nothing there.
I reach out with my vampiric senses, but I find... nothing.
Except, there is a familiar scent in the air. Automatically I remember where I smelt it before. At both the scenes where the killings took place.
In the distance I hear a woman's scream.
I run as fast as I can towards the sound, but I know that I'll be too late to save her.
There, over that rise.
The woman's body lies on the path a few yards in front of me, gutted.
"Surprise," growls a guttural voice in my ear.
I spin round, and...
I'm awake. Light is streaming through a crack in my curtains. What a dream, at least I hope it was a dream. Rolling over onto my back I take a quick look at the clock, it's about one forty in the afternoon. Realising that I slept in my clothes I undress and head into the bathroom for a shower.
While I'm in the shower my mind runs through what I have to do during the day, I come up blank.
I decide to go to one of the Union Bars. Then I remember, a Jazz trio made up of students are going to be playing in the University Bar. I think I'll go along and lend them some support.
I'm not disappointed.
I had wondered if it would be worth going, but they are brilliant.
"I thought I'd find you here," says a voice from behind me. It's Richard Paterson, one of my classmates. He pulls a chair back then flips it round and straddles it, "Thought you might like to know Ms Phillps wants the paper on Chaos Theory in on Monday!"
I choke on my soda & lime, "W-what?" I splutter, "When did she tell you this?" Ms Phillips is one of my professors, not one of the most popular. She's a sort of feminine Darth Vader, same sort of sense of humour.
"When you missed the lecture on Friday," he says, "Where were you anyway?"
"In the bank manager's office about my bounced grant cheque." I respond, "I don't suppose I could borrow your notes?"
He nods and pulls out a sheaf of papers from his jacket pocket, "There y'go. Steve says you got a job, how did you manage it?"
I answer him in one word, "Mother."
"Ah," he says, "Doing what?"
"Feeding off the suffering of others," I'm in one of those moods.
"Let's see, that would include, lawyer, politician, journalist, and of course maths professors." I can't help myself, I start to smile.
"Photographer," I can't really go into details.
We sit and listen to the music until my conscience gets the better of me and I go back to my flat to try to get that Chaos paper done before the lecture on Monday.
By the time I'm finished it's dark, and I need to hunt again. Just for a change, and to satisfy my morbid curiosity I decide to hunt in one of the forests out by Milngavie for a change.
After my second rabbit (I only take a little blood from each animal) I catch a scent that is all too familiar. It's the same musky odour that I smelled at the last two sites. Instantly all my senses are on edge.
Returning to my human form I try to locate the source of the scent. There, just down that path. The dark forest around me looks familiar, but I've never been here before. Then I remember when I was here before, my dream last night.
Behind me an owl hoots startling me. Remember, it was just a dream, Will. Wasn't it?
Above the trees the full moon shines down casting eerie shadows through the overhanging trees. I start to run down the path, hoping against all hope that what I think is about to happen doesn't.
A woman's shrill scream of terror pierces the cool night air ahead of me.
I run faster. The rise is just ahead.
"Oh my god!" Ahead of me on the path is the body of the woman from my dream. I fall to my knees gagging. Her body is ripped to shreds.
I stagger over to her, hoping, praying that she's still alive. Logically I know she is dead, she couldn't still be alive.
"Surprise," growls a guttural voice in my ear.
"Oh my god!" I spin round, praying that I'll wake safe in my flat, knowing that this is real, that I won't wake up.
Fast as I am, I never make it all the way round.
Suddenly one clawed hand rakes across my chest with such force that I'm thrown bleeding to the ground.
Before I have a chance to react it's upon me, huge white teeth snapping inches away from my throat. As I battle frantically to keep those snapping teeth away from my throat I catch glimpses of dark brown fur and glowing red eyes.
What is this creature?
I feel the teeth digging into my throat as the strong jaws close. A human would have been dead long before now.
My body dissolves into a fine mist and the creature falls through me howling it's anger at the moon.
I reform a hundred yards away and turn to try to get a good look at my attacker.
Nothing. The forest is empty. In the distance I hear sirens as the police rush to the scene. I slump to the ground exhausted.
What do I tell them?
"So tell me again, what happened after you spotted the body?" The Inspector hands me a cup of coffee which I sip gratefully, allowing the liquid's warmth to seep through my body.
I take a deep breath and begin, ignoring the slight itching from my wounds (they had mostly healed to slight scars by now), "I heard something behind me, turned and then the creature went for me. Then after a minute or so it got bored and left."
"Describe it," Little looks as if she is enjoying herself.
"I can't," I say, and it's the truth, I don't know what I saw, I'm not sure that I really want to know. "It all really happened too fast for me."
"Tracks!!" We all hear Jim's exulted cry from over by the spot where I fell, "There are bloody tracks this time!"
Walking slowly over to the area that Jim's indicating we look down at the ground. What I see makes my blood run cold.
There are tracks all right, the tracks of what I don't want to know. They lead off into the forest.
"These are fascinating," says Jim, his voice and face unreadable, "Look, here they are, as if a person with clawed feet was running tip-toed, then they gradually change to these." He points to the last set of tracks visible.
"What are those?" asks Jess puzzled, "Dog tracks?"
"Those my dear Jessica," says Jim grimly, "Are the tracks of Canis Lupus, more commonly known as the wolf!"
Oh shit, I think I know what it was that attacked me, and I don't like it.
Inspector Reid doesn't like it either, "McCormack, did you lay those tracks?"
Did I? ...Oh Damn, he's serious, "No, Inspector I did not," I say as archly as I can, "Maybe she did." I point towards the tarp covering the body.
"Will, a word?" asks Jim who is slowly walking away from the Inspector. He is motioning for me to follow him.
When we are out of earshot of the police he turns to me and says, "What attacked you?"
"I don't know," I say, "it all happened too fast."
"Maybe, but you've got a pretty good idea, don't you?"
Jess has joined us by now and she asks, "What was it, Will?"
"You probably wouldn't believe me."
"Try me." he says simply.
We start through the forest walking briskly, to try to leave the carnage behind us.
"I... uh... I think it was a..." I can't say it.
"A werewolf?" asks Jim.
"I think so," I respond.
Jess looks sceptical, "A werewolf, of all the stupid..."
A low mournful howling from behind us grabs our attention. As we run back towards the scene we hear screams and the sounds of a fight, I have a sick feeling that I know what will await us.
Dead, dismembered bodies are scattered all over the path. Blue and white uniforms are all in bloodstained tatters that cling wetly to the bodies. In the centre of the path, silhouetted by the full moon, a grisly tableau unfolds.
We arrive in time to see what appears to be a huge timber wolf rip Inspector Reid's throat out. When the creature sees us it drops the Inspector's bloody body to the ground like an old rag.
Suddenly the wolf throws it's shaggy head back and lets out a blood chilling howl that freezes us in place. Then it gazes at us with those red eyes.
"No." Jess utters what we're all thinking, "This can't be happening."
It is happening. And, as the 'wolf' prowls slowly towards us licking it's bloody maw, I get the distinct impression that things are about to get much, much worse.
I really hate it when I'm right.
As the creature stalks menacingly towards us it straightens up, bones and muscle shift under the matted fur, paws lengthen out into horribly clawed hands.
Jess screams.
I can't blame her. We are faced by a creature that is far more fearsome than any ordinary wolf. Blood and saliva drip from the mouth filled with long vicious fangs, and it speaks.
"What are you?" it growls at me as it lunges at Jim with those wickedly clawed hands/paws, he is barely able to get out of the way in time.
Seeing no reason not to tell him I let my fangs grow in response to my anger.
"A vampire," I say, struggling to keep Jess and Jim behind me, out of reach of the monster's claws.
It lunges at me, howling.
This is not the reaction I had wanted.
Too late I notice the sharp stick it has in one clawed hand.
I feel the deadly wood bite deep into my chest and I hear myself scream in agony as I fall to the ground, my right side almost paralysed by the searing pain.
Leaving me the creature slowly advances on the others, they don't stand a chance. I must do something, I can't let them die.
Struggling to my feet I grasp the stick, pull it from my chest, and leap at the werewolf. Somehow I make it. Holding on, despite the pain that is starting to cloud my vision, I sink my fangs into the neck of the creature.
From the forest around us suddenly a chorus of howls rises into the night air. Through the fog of pain my mind dimly registers the howling and what it means, a whole pack of werewolves.
Trying to buck me off it's back the werewolf advances on Jess who is making a cross with her fingers and screaming, "Back, back, stay away!"
Slowly the werewolf loses it's strength as I feed on it's blood, and collapses to the ground, unconscious.
The howling grows still louder.
I haul myself unsteadily to my feet and leave the creature hovering on this side of death.
Jess is checking Jim's pulse, it appears that he fainted. When she notices me she starts and moves away fearfully making the sign of the cross with her fingers.
"Easy," I say, "I'm not going to hurt you." I think she believes me.
Between us we manage to carry Jim to one of the police cars now spattered with blood.
Suddenly the howling ceases.
From the depths of the forest the pack emerges one at a time, eyes glowing a fiery red.
We look round frantically for an escape route. There isn't one, we're surrounded.
The largest wolf, one with silver-grey haunches stalks forward towards me. As he moves I see the bones and muscles shifting smoothly under the furred skin. The eyes pin me to the ground, like a rabbit caught in a car's headlamps. I don't move.
The wolfman stalks right up to me, and my mind screams at me to do something, but I know that there is nothing I can do. I could escape, but that would mean leaving Jim and Jess to certain death. I stay.
He raises a clawed hand to beside my face, and...
He places it solidly on my shoulder. "I apologise for the deaths, vampire," he says in a deep gravelly voice, "The renegade will be dealt with by the Pack." With a flick of his wrist two werewolves stalk forward and assume Wolfman form. One of them draws an ornate silver dagger from a pack that is strapped to his back, and plunges it into the chest of the rogue who had attacked us.
Before our very eyes the dead body of the werewolf slowly transforms into a beautiful woman.
I don't know her at all. On her wrist is a scar mark where the silver SOS bracelet had been ripped off.
"They're gone!" exclaims Jess.
"What?" I look up and sure enough, we're alone in the forest with the body of the dead werewolf. This is going to take some explaining, I think as I look around at the carnage caused by one renegade werewolf.
Jim props himself up on his elbows, "I just had the worst nightmare."
Jess looks at me, "Will you tell him, or will I?"
Here goes...
Epilogue
"Does this hurt?" Red hot fire shoots out from my right shoulder as my arm is gently moved.
"Aargh!" I shout, restraining the urge to take what my body needs to heal itself, human blood, a lot of human blood, "WHAT DO YOU THINK? OF COURSE IT BLOODY WELL HURTS!"
Douglas Stuart looks at me, clearly annoyed, "You should be in a hospital with a wound like that, being treated by a real doctor not a third year med student with a B minus grade average."
I try to reply through the fog of pain but he waves me off.
"I know, that's not a good idea for a vampire." He reaches into his bag and pulls out a set of dressings, "I lifted these from my father's office," he says as he bandages my shoulder, carefully. Earlier when he had removed my shirt to get at the wound he had jostled my arm. Without being aware of it I had thrown him across the room.
"The only real damage is that hole in your chest. According to what you've told me about vampires it should heal eventually. If you do what I tell you." He glares at me, "You will do what I tell you! Until that's healed you stay in bed and let Steve and I look after you until Lorna gets back, okay?"
I nod, trying to ignore the stars it brings to my eyes.
"Now," he continues, "Can I get you anything?"
I can't ask him. The world starts to blur around me, I think I lost more blood than I thought.
Doug smiles and reaches into his bag a second time. He removes an IV blood bag which he punctures at the top and holds to my lips.
By this time I'm holding onto consciousness by the thinnest of threads. My fangs lengthen and I gulp the nourishment down without even being aware of it.
"I have a friend in the hospital," he says by way of explanation although I hear him as if he was a great distance away.
He picks up the keys to my flat and lets himself out as I slip at last into a deep dreamless sleep as my undead body seeks to repair the damage done to it by one sharp piece of dead wood.
Two months later I wake to find out that, due to lack of attendance, I have been expelled from the University. And, being undead, there's nothing that I can do about it.
When I call the Herald I expect to be told that I was dismissed for the same reason.
"Will, good to hear from you." I can hear the smile in the editor's voice, "How's the arm?"
"F-fine," I splutter not understanding.
"When'll you be well enough to start work again?"
Absently I finger the small scar on my chest that is the only clue that I was ever hurt. "Tomorrow, if that's okay."
"Sure, see you then. Bye." I barely hear the click as he hangs up. Why do I still have a job? One answer springs immediately to mind, Jess, she must've got me sick leave or something. I really must remember to thank her.
On the table in front of me is a pile of mail that waswaiting to be dealt with. On the top is an official looking letter from the University Air Squadron I'm a member of, was a member of. As I open it I try to remember if you can be court martialled in absentia.
"Mr William McCormack,
I was sorry to hear about your injury and subsequent expulsion from the University of Glasgow and I hope you are feeling better.
Please disregard the letter sent previously informing you of your dismissal from the Squadron, it was sent out before the facts were known.
I would very much like the chance to talk with you regarding your current status as a member of the Royal Air Force Volunteer Reserve as soon as you feel well enough to do so. Please call us regarding a suitable time and date.
E Woods
Sqdn Leader Edward Woods"
Now I'm confused. Why was I expelled from University, and yet the UAS have changed their minds and appear to be asking for me back. There is something very odd going on. But that, I suspect, is a whole other story.
The events described in this story are entirely fictitious and exist only in the author's imagination, such as it is. The characters contained herein, along with the story itself, at all times remain the property of the author, Alasdair T. McLean, and may not be used or reproduced without his permission. "Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living, dead, or undead is purely coincidental" (Vampires. Chill, 1990). The names of real places and institutions have been used to provide a sense of setting for the story, and their representations should, in a few cases, definitely not be taken seriously.
And, finally, I hope that you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it.
dave black | doug stewart | fiction | jenny mccormack | jess parker | jim david | mrs mcnally | original fiction | steve wolfe | will mccormackPost a Comment