Torment (8 page)

Basil watched the group of young humans enter his home
with utter contempt scrawled across his ancient, stretched face. Damnable
people. They always went where they never belonged. One would think that living
in a decrepit old mansion buried deep in a swampy marshland was enough of a
deterrent. The large padlocks the intruders had cut through with their loud
tools were meant to be even more of a hint. Maybe he should hire some builders
to erect a massive, red lettered billboard reading “Keep Out!”

Damn them. Damn them all. Why couldn’t they leave him
alone? This intrusion would undoubtedly mean another move. The legend would grow,
following Basil no matter where he went.

One hundred years of this persecution. Since being
turned, he’d been chased, forced to leave from every place he’d made a home.
Hell, the last fifty years or so he’d stayed out of the cities. He hunted
exclusively in the swamps and wooded areas. Animal blood sated him as well as
human. Deer were plentiful.

He would make an exception for these fools. They’d
intruded upon his domain. Basil’s territorial instincts would not be denied.
Still, he would be fair. The humans would be given one chance to leave. If they
ignored his warning their penalty for trespass would be death.

From his hiding place in the high, dark rafters of the
grand entrance hall, Basil summoned more of the shadows around his pale, furry
body. Once sufficiently cloaked, he shrieked at the intruders in a shrill,
deafening voice.

“Strangers! Leave my home or suffer! You are not
welcome here! This is your one chance to save yourself!”

An answering scream followed by a sharp report of a
handgun. Splinters burst from a beam a mere seven feet from Basil. So they’d
come armed. That put a new spin on this situation. At first, he’d pegged them
as explorers, come to check on the reportedly haunted manor house. Since they
bore weapons, the bastards must have decided to make a name for themselves
hunting a legend.

Flashlights clicked on. They futilely sought to find
him. The darkness he wore was impenetrable. Basil could drop down and rip them
to shreds, but what was the fun in that? There were four of them. Enough to
cause a bit of chaos amongst them, with a little torture thrown in to keep his
human hunting skills sharp.

What do to first? His bright green eyes, the shade of
fresh limes, slightly luminescent, narrowed in thought. The long pointed ears
twitched as he considered strategies. A slow smile exposed his gleaming fangs
as his liver colored lips spread over them.

Basil had decided on a classic, yet effective opening
maneuver. He wrinkled his blunt nose and made a soft chirping sound. The light from
below attempted to get a fix on the noise, frantically sweeping the ceiling in
a vain attempt to find him. He stopped the noise, not out of fear of being
found though. Tiny feet were thundering in from each room of the manor house.

“What was that?” A female voice called out, voice
fraught with panic. “We should go, like now!”

“Shut up!” Was the masculine reply. He was trying
mightily not to sound terrified. “We’ve got everything we need to kill the-“

The man’s claim stopped short as rats began to pour
into the main hall from every available crevasse. A wave of brown and black
bodies scampered up the intruders bodies. More pistol shots rang out. Basil
pushed a bit harder at the rodents. They clamored up the original shooter’s
arm, gnawing mercilessly at the hand holding the firearm. The animals weighed
the appendage down, forcing the weapon into a point at one of the shooter’s
comrades.

Reflexively, he yanked at the trigger after a
particularly deep rat bite. A gaping red hole appeared in a short, blonde
woman’s gut. She collapsed, clutching at the wound. Basil’s grin grew wider. He
called the rodents off. They dropped to the floor and scattered back to their
hidey holes.

Basil surveyed the confusion amongst the remaining
three with satisfaction. They would begin infighting, spreading blame and
arguing on what to do next. His furry little companions had covered the hunting
party in bites. Pain would add to their confusion.

Now to the second phase. He climbed easily through a
hole in the roof. Walking steadily to the edge, he peered down at a van parked
near the front porch. Time to eliminate their ability to leave easily. He
looked around, trying to find something to utilize. Yes, it would be a simple matter
to leap down to slash their tires, but it had been a while since he’d hunted
humans. Basil wanted to take actions that would cause a maximum amount of fear.
Adrenaline often made the blood tastier.

His wandering eye fell upon a rusty weather vane. That
might work. After a quick bit of footwork avoiding the numerous holes on the
ancient roof, Basil ripped the vane free. It was a heavy chunk of wrought iron,
yet he handled it like a paper airplane.

Leaping gracefully back to his position above the van,
Basil flung the makeshift spear downward. It pierced the hood with a shriek of
steel and a crash of destroyed engine. The front tires popped deafeningly with
the sheer force of his throw.

More shouts from below. Three pairs of frantic feet
stormed outside to survey the damage. Basil delighted in their rampant fear. He
was extremely amused to witness a large, dark stain appear on one of the male’s
pants.

The other man ran around to the sliding side door of
the wrecked vehicle. He removed a large duffle, spilling it in the overgrown
front yard. Long wooden stakes rattled out. Basil wanted to laugh. This crew
was guilty of watching way too many horror films. Piercing the heart was
utterly pointless. What was the good in spearing a heart that was dried up and
useless?

“Come down!” The frightened man, now wielding two
stakes called out. The sharpened dowels quivered madly. “Get down here, you
coward!”

Basil shrugged to himself. Why not? He jumped down
from his perch, landing directly on the stake man’s shoulders. The weight of
his grotesque body snapped the unfortunate fellow in half, pushing a portion of
the spinal column through his stomach.

Oblivious to the terrified shrieks coming from the
other two meat bags, Basil tore the upper half of the torso away. His face was
upturned to drink the dark blood running out the destroyed organs. It was
absolutely wonderful after decades spent feasting on woodland animals. He must
have more!

The idiot with the pistol was shooting as fast as he
could pull the trigger. Basil felt nothing, but the sound was offensive. It
rang in and out of his hypersensitive ears. To alleviate this, Basil swung the
body like a club, knocking the shooter back a good twenty feet to slam
painfully into the house. The weapon bounced away.

Dropping the gory torso carelessly, he advanced on the
unconscious or dead young man resting awkwardly on the front porch. Bloodlust
consumed his every thought. An animalistic need burning inside to dominate and
consume. Instinct overrode common sense.

This momentary loss of control allowed the remaining
woman to slip past Basil. She sprinted away into the marshy forest surrounding
the house. He grunted, frustrated at his lack of attention. The game was fun,
but he wanted no loose ends. Avoiding discovery was paramount.

However, Basil could smell the blood leaking from the
attacker he’d bashed. The urge to feast was too strong to deny. He stormed
towards the dying man, lifting his body easily. One deep bite freed the
delicious liquid quickly into Basil’s hungry mouth. He gulped it down as
rapidly as it was given. The shooter’s body began to wither, skin greying and
pulling tight against the bones. His eyes bulged out, the teeth in his mouth
pulled back in a grimace, creating an almost comical appearance; some low rent
funhouse mummy unwrapped.

Basil roared in triumph and ecstasy. His belly was
round, full of sustenance. It’d been years since he felt this wonderful! Life
itself ran through him, galloping through his dead veins like a derby horse.
Maybe he would make the switch back to humans.

Time for the last. His nostrils flared, easily picking
up the woman’s scent of sweat, enhanced by terror. Less than two miles away.
Draining the fool with the gun had taken longer than he’d thought. The sun was
still far enough off, which was a blessing. 

Another item in his favor were options. Yes, there was
a certain appeal to the chase. There was a lot to clean up here, though. Basil
clicked his tongue, shaking his head as he rejected potential plans. No, there
was only one option.

He bent, digging in the pockets of his victims. After
a time he came up with his desired item. Carefully using one clawed finger,
Basil tapped out a number on a cellular phone. It rang several times before a
man picked up on the other end.

“Remember the favor you owe me?” Basil rasped. “Time
to call in my marker, dear boy.”

******

Kate Marsted’s lungs were on fire. Her legs felt like
lead. Never before had she run so hard, not even during the track meets that
earned her a college scholarship. This was supposed to have gone smoothly, no
hitches.

They’d grossly underestimated the creature. Even after
studying hours of video footage collected via drone, the team hadn’t accounted
for the sheer brutality the…well, vampire, exhibited. Good God, the bastard had
torn two of them apart like they were paper dolls.

Gary, the team’s leader, had stumbled across the
vampire while researching deer populations in the area. During a drone sweep,
while he was counting a particularly large herd, he’d witnessed the grotesque
figure sprint right through the middle of the animals, wrestle a deep chested
eight point buck to the ground, and feed.

Immediately their minds moved into action. Keeping the
discovery to themselves, the young people began to speculate the potential for
science to finally prove a mythical creature as fact. Not to mention there were
possible medical benefits to be had from the monster’s blood. They would be
famous. More importantly, they would be wealthy.

Now, after witnessing the wholesale slaughter of three
people, Kate wanted nothing more than to be studying the migratory patterns of
swampland birds. This was too big a job for a handful of college kids, even if
Gary was in the Army Reserve. Fuck, none of them had even considered if the guns
and wooden stakes would even damage the creature. What had they been thinking?

The traffic sounds from the adjoining country road
were music to her ears. She pushed herself to go harder, overjoyed at the thought
of getting away. Kate burst from the flattened underbrush that marked the
beginning of the old manor house’s driveway, panting like a dog in the middle
of summer.

To her delighted surprise, a county police car rolled
to a stop moments later. Behind the wheel sat Sheriff Moorland. He immediately
got out. “What’s going on here? You know you’re not supposed to be out here,
right?”

“Yes…” Kate struggled to catch a breath, bent over
with exertion and trembling with the dregs of adrenaline. “Please….help….he…killed…”

“Who killed what?” Moorland asked sharply. His hand
dropped the butt of his gun. “Take it easy, now, you’re safe.”

“No…we…need…to…go…now…”

“All right,” Moorland helped her over to his cruiser.
“Let’s get into the car. We can talk at the station, okay?”

Kate nodded gratefully, allowing the officer to load
her into the back seat. She flopped over, allowing exhaustion to overtake her.
The big engine started and the car pulled away from the gravelly shoulder.

They were halfway down the lane before Kate realized
they weren’t heading towards town.

“Hey!” She exclaimed, trying to sit up.

“Shut up,” Moorland growled. “Jesus Christ, what a
mess you made.”

The patrol car sped recklessly down the dirt road,
kicking up dust. Kate jostled around at every bump, struggling to not slam her
head into the ceiling or doors. She clawed at the handle-less exits, cold fear
kicking the vibrant hope at survival she’d felt moments ago out on its ass.

Skidding to a stop just behind Gary’s disabled van,
Moorland beeped the horn twice and waited, knuckles white on the steering
wheel. Sweat was running down his face. He chewed ceaselessly at his lower lip.

Basil appeared to the Sheriff’s left. His sudden
emergence from the high grass made Moorland jump. The vampire grinned at his
fright, indicating that the officer should roll his window down with a twirling
hand gesture.

Moorland cracked the window. “I brought her, just like
you asked. We’re even, right?”

“Yes, yes,” Basil smiled. “I cleaned up the…what did
you call them? Hippies? Yes, hippies that were brewing drugs in this old house,
now you return a lamb to me. I consider the debt paid.”

“Good!” Moorland exclaimed, voice girlishly high in
his fright. “I’ll open the back door and you grab her, okay?”

“Very okay,” Basil said. “Oh, and I regret to inform
you I’ll be leaving soon. I thank you for your hospitality. You’ve been more
than kind.”

“Sure, sure.”

Kate heard the locks disengage to her left and right.
She tried to push them open, wanting to at least make an attempt at escape.
Nothing happened until Basil opened the door and yanked her out into the night
screaming.