A Grave Hunger (12 page)

CHAPTER 20

I paced up and down my small motel room restlessly. I was climbing the walls. I wished Finlay were here with me to hold my hand and tell me everything would be ok, even though I knew it wouldn't be. The shock from Robert's death had now worn off. The numbness had been replaced by a constant nausea as the visions of his final moments kept replaying in my head, as if on constant repeat.  It had been two weeks since Robert had died, two weeks since I last saw Finlay. I had stood by my word and had given him space. I hadn't tried to contact him for days, but enough was enough. I had to speak to him. We had to bury Robert. I had put off the funeral as long as I could. The funeral was now set for tomorrow.

I reached for my phone and punched in Finlay's number, cursing quietly when I heard the recorded voice telling me to leave a message. I gave details of tomorrow's funeral, pleaded with him to come home, and then hung up. Where the hell was he?

The last few weeks were beginning to take its toll on me. I had kept myself busy. I had been caught in the whirlwind of funeral planning, falling into bed exhausted each night, not allowing myself to think about my loss. But now that the funeral was tomorrow, everything was organised. I had no other tasks to preoccupy me, and I was starting to unravel. I could feel the depression slowly creep over me. I climbed into bed, wrapping the covers tightly around me and cried until I had nothing left to give.

*****

My eyes snapped open, it took me a moment to realise where I was. The room was dark and imposing. Shadows danced on the walls in eerie displays, serving to increase the intense panic that had already sent adrenaline pumping through my body and my heart racing at double speed. My hand shook as I reached for the bedside light. Clicking it on, I willed my heart to stop pounding. It sounded like a jack hammer in my ears. I desperately tried to clear my head, but my recurring dream ricocheted around my skull. I couldn't save him. Robert was gone. My family was gone and god only knew if Finlay would be back. I swung my legs off the side of the bed, curled over on to my knees, laid my head in my hands, and broke down. I sobbed until my breaths came in ragged bursts and my body shook. I reached my phone and checked the screen. Nothing from Finlay. Giving up on sleep, I got up and reached for my laptop. I needed a distraction, something to keep my mind off what I had to do today. Switching it on, I logged onto the local news website. The headline had my full attention.

ANIMAL ATTACK OR DEVIL WORSHIP?

SLAYINGS HAVE POLICE BAFFLED

The body of local resident Heather Reid, 28, was found by police in the early hours of Thursday morning. Our news sources say that a young woman named Chloe Smith of Ithaca awoke to gurgling screams that appeared to come from an alley behind her apartment building. "It was horrid," she tells Nick Sales, a reporter from
Ithaca Times
. "I was in bed asleep, and then suddenly I wake up with my dog barking like a maniac. I got up to go look out my bedroom window, and then I heard the screams! I had never heard a person being hurt before. I haven't gone back to sleep since."

The New York Police Department has been extremely confused as of late, this incident is only the latest in a string of seemly connected murders. In the last ten days there has been a staggering 51 unsolved deaths in the city of Ithaca. All the bodies have been found with a single wound on their necks, their bodies drained of blood. Investigators state that the attacks were extremely
violent.

The families of the dead and the public are clamouring for answers. Who did this? Was it a gang? Terrorist Attack?  The police's official statement on these deaths was ruled as accidental. The cause of death? Severe blood loss due to the victims being mauled by a wild animal, such as a coyote.  However, the evidence conflicts this ruling. The reports are that every crime scene had been cleaned of any evidence. There was no blood, DNA or animal fur discovered at any of the 51 crime scenes, which points to the possibility of a human perpetrator. The local police force is working to quell the rapid rumours circulating that the recent number of deaths in the area are at the hands of Satan worshippers, after the police reports of the death of Susan Lawrence was leaked to the media last week. The evidence stated in the leaked report conflicts with information officially released to the public.

James Monroe, a member of the local Devil Worshipping Cult, believes the work is a sort of "shrine to the devil" done by rogue members of their cult.

Police statements and evidence are conflicting. Is there a vicious wild animal roaming our streets or a gang of serial killers, bent on worshipping the Devil? With so many unanswered questions, only one conclusion is irrefutable: Something evil is terrorising our city.

This definitely smelled of vampire activity. How could I have missed this? Had I been wrapped up so much in my own grief that I was oblivious to the events around me? Guilt washed over me. I had been selfish. I had only been thinking about my own grief, and now there were countless other families going through the same. I vowed to try and stop these monsters before anyone else suffered this heartache, but first I had to get through today. The thought filled me with dread.             

*****

I stepped out of Robert's beat-up Ford Prefect and looked up. Dark, angry clouds hung heavily in the sky. It was perfect weather for a funeral, and it matched my sombre, miserable mood. My three inch heels sunk into the grass as I approached the funeral plot. I was dressed in my best black dress, looking very respectful and sophisticated. If Robert were here I knew he would make a joke about me looking like a normal girl, since he always saw me in my hunter’s getup. It made me smile.

I looked around at the crowd that had gathered around the funeral plot. Most of the crowd was what you would expect at a funeral: very solemn looking people, dressed in black, but there were a few typical hunter types. They were mainly men, and scruffy looking, dressed in jeans, leathers and biker boots. I thought out of everyone here Robert would appreciate the more casually dressed guests.

I scanned the crowd looking for Finlay, cursing quietly under my breath when I didn't see him.

The rain started to fall just as the service was about the end. Large, heavy drops dispersed the crowd, until I was the only person left. The rain drummed against the gravestones like a hail of bullets, but I didn't move. The cool, spring rain lashed my skin, and it trickled into my eyes and soaked through my dress. It was almost as though it was cleansing me of all the pain and loss I had experienced over the last few weeks.

The combination of the biting wind and the wet clothes clinging to my body sent me shivering furiously against the cold. Time passed. How much time? I wasn't sure. I wrapped my arms tightly around my shivering body. It did nothing to alleviate the coldness in my body or my heart. I suddenly felt exhausted. The emotions of the day finally hit me. I had the urge to crawl into bed and stay there until the pain clawing through my chest retreated. Instead, I decided to put all my hurt and pain into something worthwhile. I would start hunting again. I turned and made my way back to Robert's car, sending one final remorseful glance over my shoulder to the gravestone as I went.

Back in the car, I drove on auto pilot, fingers drumming impatiently against the wheel as I sat in traffic. If I was going to get back into hunting there was one place I needed to go - Robert's house. I dreaded going back there. I knew that his house would be haunted by his memory, but if I was going to return to hunting I would need to go back. His house held everything I would need: weapons, a space I could train or work out and everything I would need to track the vampires. I pulled into his long, secluded driveway, hearing the gravel path crunch under the car's tyres. Parking, I let my gaze drift to the dense woodland surrounding the property. Tall, robust trees stood guard, shielding the property from the outside world. It gave me some small sense of comfort, as though the thick growth was acting as guardian, protecting me from the horrors of the world.

I snapped out of my daydream and stared up at the house, remembering the last time I had been here. Guilt flooded my body.

"I'm so sorry I couldn't help you, Robert," I said aloud.

I pushed aside the emotions burning in my chest and headed for the door. I stopped short when I reached the porch. It was littered with newspapers dumped carelessly in haphazard piles. There must be at least one hundred papers scattered around. I had forgotten to cancel Robert's many subscriptions to local papers when he died. Well, at least I had a place to start my research for vampire activity.

The next four hours were spent searching through newspaper reports and hacking into the police database looking for information on the murders in the area. Three cups of coffee and a splitting headache later, I felt as though I had finally achieved something.

I had created a time line of the murders by pinning up a profile of each murder on the wall of Robert's living room. Under each name I had pinned a newspaper article, police report and had recorded notes about each victim's age, sex, cause of death and any other information that I thought would be pertinent.

Something that distinguished vampire murders from the work of a serial killer was the choice in victims. Vampires rarely hunted down a particular type. For them, a meal was simply a meal. If you fell victim to one, it was usually because you were in the wrong place at the wrong time.

As I stared up at the wall, I noticed the lack of pattern in these murders. Victims of both sexes appeared on the wall, with ages ranging from fifteen to fifty five. Victims of all races, social standings and religions appeared before me. This tallied up to be the work of a vampire. As did the cause of death in all murders - bodies drained of blood, no evidence left at any crime scene. Definitely the work of vampires.

One thing kept bothering me: the sheer numbers of victims. The vampires must know that this would raise a red flag for hunters. God knows how many hunters were already on their way here to stop them. It didn't make sense. Was it new vampires causing this much devastation, not realising the danger they were in from hunters or maybe arrogantly not considering us a threat? My grey matter offered no response. My subconscious kicked in, begging me to scratch an itch just out of reach. What was I missing? Something didn't add up. The subliminal itch continued to pester. I let out a sharp sigh of frustration.

I rubbed my temples with my fingers, willing my headache to stop. I suddenly felt exhausted. Today's events were catching up with me. Time to call it a night. Obviously trying to pry the missing link from my subconscious wasn't working, and if anything it felt even further from reach. Usually if I let the thought be, it would eventually make its way into my consciousness.

Even though my motel was a short walk away, I had no energy to make the journey. I would just stay here tonight. I had planned on coming back again tomorrow anyway to finish my research and do some training since I had neglected it since Robert had died.

I wearily made my way upstairs. I hesitated for a moment at the top, not able to make a decision about which room to sleep in. After a short pause, I made my way toward the room Finlay had stayed in as a boy, not feeling strong enough to stay in Robert's room.

I pushed open the door and entered the room. Navy blue walls were covered in posters of scantily clad women; a typical teenagers room. I felt a pang in my chest as I thought about him. My eyes scanned the room. It was minimally furnished with a double bed, wardrobe and chest of drawers, with a CD rack full of a variety of different genres of music. Mounted on one wall was a full length mirror, and on the other a cork board full of photographs. My heart sank as I viewed them. My gaze darted to a photograph of a young Finlay wearing a baseball cap, holding a bat. Robert had his arm around him in a loving display. Other photos of Finlay and Robert were pinned to the board, showing Finlay of various ages. I wondered if I would see him again. Now that Robert was gone, was there anything to bring him back here? The thought brought a chill to my heart.

CHAPTER 21

My eyes flew open, heart racing. I sat, frozen, bewildered for a moment and not recognising where I was. As my sleepy haze lifted, my thoughts began to focus. I was still at Robert's. My heart drummed in my chest. Was it another nightmare that had snapped me from sleep? My brain  offered no answer.

Clunk!

I froze, pulse galloping, the sound pounding in my ears. I strained, listening intently, unsure if the previous adrenaline rush had caused me to imagine the sound.

Clunk!

I hadn't imagined it then. It sounded like it was coming from downstairs. A fresh wave of adrenaline buzzed through my body. I blinked rapidly, desperately willing my eyes to adjust to my dark surroundings.

Thud!

I quietly reached under the bed and withdrew a dagger. Ever since my family had been killed, I had always kept a weapon in close proximity. Thankful for my paranoia, I slid silently from the bed, clutching the weapon tightly. I quietly padded to the door, praying that the old rusted hinges wouldn't creak when I opened it. I let out a silent sigh of relief when it swung open quietly. Looking out into the corridor, I searched for any signs of movement. There was nothing but darkness. I held my breath as I reached the stairs. Leaning back into the wall, I pushed my weight against the cool brick to avoid the creaky floorboards. Hearing only the pounding of my heart, I pushed onwards.

Thump!

I flinched, inhaling sharply. My instincts were on high alert. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, I scanned the area, seeing nothing but shadows. A dim light flickered on from the kitchen, the thin beam shining through the crack under the closed door. My eyes darted to the small table beside the door. The green light on the phone flashed as though a beacon. I disregarded the thought. What would the police do if it was a vamp? I would deal with this myself. Reaching the closed door, I took a steadying breath. Reaching tentatively for the door handle, I pushed the door open. A shadowy figure stood hunched over, raking through the contents of the fridge. Acting on impulse, I pounced on the figure, knocking it to the floor. In one swift movement I had my dagger pushed under its neck.

His face was gaunt, eyes shadowy. I sucked in a sharp breath, as recognition flashed in my brain.

"Hey, Scotland. Good to see you haven't lost your touch." Finlay smiled but the gesture didn't reach his eyes.

I didn't know what to say, how to proceed. It had been so long since I had seen him. My emotions flitted from feeling angry to feeling relief. They settled on relief. Throwing my dagger to the side, I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him tightly to me. He smelled of stale alcohol, sweat and cigarette smoke. He seemed unsure of how to react to my sudden display of affection, and he froze for a few moments before wrapping his arms around me.

"Good to see you too, Scotland." His voice sounded gritty and hoarse.

I clambered off him and got to my feet, reaching out a hand to help him up. Taking my hand, he pulled himself to his feet. I clicked on the kitchen light and saw him properly for the first time.

"You look awful, Finlay." He had lost weight, and his jacket hung loosely around his shoulders, giving him a haggard and gaunt appearance.

"Thanks. You always know how to make a guy feel good about himself." Another weak smile.

"It's been a while." I tried to sound nonchalant and failed. 

"Yeah." He looked down at the floor, refusing to make eye contact. Changing the subject, he continued. "I figured you would be here when I didn't find you at the motel."

He turned from me and busied himself by rummaging through the open fridge. He appeared a few seconds later holding two bottles of beer. He held one up as an offering. I nodded, taking a bottle from him and sitting at the dining room table. Finlay followed suit. Twisting off the lid, he took a long gulp.

"So where have you been for the last two weeks?" I worked to keep my voice level, disguising the emotion erupting inside me.

"Nowhere in particular. I just needed to be alone." He shuffled nervously.

I nodded, not trusting my voice to keep steady.

"How are you?" He mumbled. He stared at me, his vivid green eyes piercing into me. I had to look away.

"I've been better, you?" The awkwardness between us was intense.

He didn't answer. He stared at the table, tracing the lines of the wood with his finger.

"You missed the funeral," I said.

He cleared his throat and dragged his eyes to meet mine.

"I couldn't... Robert," he replied incoherently. His voice was a strangled whisper.

A cascade of emotions burst through the barricades that he had been trying so hard to control. His lips pressed into a thin line, and his breaths came in broken gasps. I reached over and took his hand. His heavily fortified barricades disintegrated. His nostrils flared , trying desperately to force down the emotions bubbling to the surface. Eventually the tears came in silent drops.

Rising from my seat, I went to him pull him close. Seeing him break down caused a bubble of heat to form in my chest. Joining him in his grief, tears broke, dampening my cheeks and dripping onto my top. He eventually pulled away from me, hands sending angry swipes to his cheeks. He cleared his throat.

"Sorry, that shouldn't have happened. I'm such a big girl." His face flushed and a weak smile touched his lips.

"You need to let it out, Finlay. Keeping it bottled inside isn't good for you."

"Not really my style, Scotland." As he reached for his beer, his hand trembled slightly.

"You could let me help you. We could help each other."

His haunted eyes pierced into mine with a look so intense it sent a lump to my throat.

"Sorry I took off and left you to deal with the funeral. That was pretty selfish of me," he whispered.

I couldn't answer. The lump was growing bigger. I smiled mutely. His hand ruffled his bedraggled hair.

"Are you going to take off again?" I asked intently.

He looked at me sadly. "I'm not so good to be around just now. I really wish I could be here for you...I know you are hurting too."

"You're leaving again." It was a statement, not a question. The realisation was like a knife to my heart.

"I can't stay, Scotland. I'd just drag you down with me. I just wanted to check that you were ok."

"I'm pretty far from being ok. Please, Finlay," I begged. "Stay."

A heart wrenching look crossed his face. "I'm sorry, I can't." With that he rose and walked to the door. He hesitated before opening it and turned toward me. I rushed to him, and he pulled me close, wrapping his arms tightly around me and kissed me on the forehead.

"Take care of yourself, Scotland." He detached himself from my clinging arms. Then he was gone.

I felt abandoned and the rejection clawed its way into my heart. I sunk to my knees and let the depression take me.