The Feast
Alexander Wallis
The vampire reclined within the half-light of the bar, green eyes observing the clutter of pseudo-classical furniture and the stained mosaic carpet. He grimaced with amusement at the meaningless pre-occupation of the mortals who drifted back and forth from the bar, exchanging cash for bottled consolation.
The banal hum of conversation was drowned by the throbbing baseline emanating from the multiple speakers secured to the walls, but the vampire listened contentedly to the snatches of dialogue that drifted to his ears. An unreliable boyfriend was condemned, a hard days work bemoaned and behind every mortal tribulation, the vampire mused, the advent of death was signified.
The bar was sparsely occupied for a Friday night, but among the small groups that sat chattering and sipping from their glasses he found no shortage of potentially choice victims. An enchanting, radiant young lady sat with her non-descript friend, smiling slightly with rich crimson lips. She reminded him of an illustration he had once seen in a now derelict gallery. The painting had depicted the reconciliation between lamb and lion prophesied in the Old Testament, between the animals sat a natural woman of slender frame, her eyes full with the burning psyche, or experience of God, inside her. The vampire loved such women but rarely slew them, considering their inner light too precious to be snuffed out.
As a predatorial mortal male, the girl would have been his first choice, but through his vampire eyes other candidates held similar appeal. A sallow gothic young woman sat opposite, slightly overweight but with voluptuous endowments. He sensed a darkness within her. An inner yearning for pain that might be satiated by his embrace.
"A pleasant feast, I'm sure," the vampire whispered, conceiving the delicious rivers of blood that might flow from her soft and generous flesh. Another potent temptation was the three oriental young men, brawny for their race, who sat flexing tattooed muscles on the table adjacent. They would be sure to put up a fight, and Maldwyn Satir, immortal killer and vampire extrodinaire loved the adventure of battle.
"Love, sex and death," the vampire reflected. "The three immortals."
A nauseating aroma had filled the bar, undetectable to the mortals but searing to Maldwyn's heightened senses. The scent bought with it long forgotten images of a ancient shrine, hidden beneath the desolate Aztec temples of South America, that Maldywn had discovered with his long dead master centuries before. The shrine had centered around the imposing bas relief of an insane god rising from a cyclopean citadel. The creature's distorted features were disquieting in their comparison both to humanoid characteristics and to some repressed race memory of alien origin. The malevolent aura had startled the vampire explorers such that they hastily departed, sealing forever the forgotten chamber and the recollection of cosmic horror.
Maldwyn felt himself dizzy momentarily, and then regaining his posture, discerned that the vile odour was emanating from a decrepit vagabond who had lurched awkwardly through the door. The figure paused by a table for a moment, leaning one arm on the back of a chair as if to support an inordinate weight. Maldywn observed the thick woolen mittens that must have hid swollen hands, and the grey scarf wrapped securely about the chin and neck which obscured the wrinkled visage from the nose down. The figure struggled over to the counter where he requested a glass of water in barely coherent guttural tones from a lofty unshaven member of the bar staff who recoiled slightly as he took the order.
Maldwyn leaned back in his chair, drawing the shadows to him so as to observe the creature discreetly. A perhaps hypocritical revulsion overcame the vampire as he watched the man's tiny dark eyes feeling their way over the young people that constituted his own potential meal. After a few moments, the hideous eyes rested on the petite figure of the dazzling young woman who radiated such purity and light.
The vampire leapt to his feet, as if in protest, and at that moment the searing gaze met with his own. The man regarded Maldwyn with shock for a moment, then a kind of curiosity overtook his glare. Finally the cheeks moved beneath the scarf, evidencing a cruel and confident grin.
In horror Maldwyn watched as the girl and her friend returned their bottles to the bartender and made to leave the bar. Without pausing to sup from his untouched glass, the disheveled man pawed at his groin with one gloved hand and then made to follow the ladies.
The vampire winced at he witnessed the apparent pursuit. Some uncharacteristic compulsion drove him to intervene but even stranger was the fear, like an enchantment that held him rooted to the spot.
Wrapping long fingers into a fist of stone, Maldywn gathered himself to give chase. Slipping deftly through the small clusters of drinkers, Maldwyn pushed open the door and felt the cool wind caress his face. The sky was rich with the blossom of stars that blazed with inconsolable loneliness above the cities where the vampire fed nightly. Darkness was one of many constants for one whose only activity could be undertaken in the dead of night, but on this diabolical evening the vastness of space seemed poised to swallow him into it's fathomless abyss.
The hunter could have little problem in locating his prey. That damnable scent marked out a trail that led away from the superficial glamour of the streets and deep into the winding back alleys and dimly lit pathways where the sordid heart of the city bled it's nightly flow of death, hunger and carnal instinct.
Maldwyn followed the twisting paths, barely lit by the faint glow of street lamps in adjoining streets. He stepped over a drunken wreck who lay clinging to the solace that a bag of tobacco and vodka might provide. He passed other denizens of this nocturnal underworld, a couple high on LSD, their minds cavorting with entities dwelling on the mere verge of perception.
Ignoring the delirium of their stupor, Maldwyn pressed deeper into the maze. He was aware that the uncanny aura was now overpowering, as if the earlier sensations had been but the suppressed hint of something vast and overwhelming.
Finally the welcome scent of blood momentarily overpowered the other maddening aroma. Ahead of Maldwyn in the dismal alley lay the twisted form of what was once a mortal girl. Maldwyn knelt by the skull, avoiding the mutilated carcass several feet away. Pressing his stone hand against her equally cold cheek, he took some consolation that the corpse was that of the beauty's friend and not the treasure herself. However, the murder had been monstrous, lacking any of the finesse and consideration that he himself demonstrated as a killer.
Anger seethed within the vampire as his bared teeth flashed in the moonlight. Whoever, whatever was responsible for this abominable act would die tonight.
A scream urged Maldywn into action. He sped courageously into the tenebrous depths ahead, his preternatural eyes tracking a sure path through the gloom. The path widened to reveal a derelict yard used only for the storage of waste units, and accessible by several rusted gates. Coiled upon the rough paving lay the girl, fear radiating like body heat from her shaking form. Her long raven hair lay thickly in a gray puddle and then stuck against her reddened face as she looked up to regard the lightning countenance of the vampire who moved towards her.
"God, help me," she whimpered, clutching at the vampire's coat. "Please, Jesus, God help me!"
An eruption of noise caused Maldwyn to whirl into the face of the shadow which leapt upon him like a wild beast. He collided with the surrounding fencing, which shattered like glass with the force of the impact. Grappling with the thing atop him, Maldwyn struck a fierce blow that sent the shape hurtling into a sturdy disposal unit which buckled beneath it.
The figure was rising into visibility and Maldywn recognised it as the misshapen character from the bar. It's scarf had torn to reveal a disconcerting lip-less mouth which was retracted well above the broken teeth and pulsating blackened gums.
"Do not disturb my work, vampire." the creature hissed.
"You know what I am?" Maldywn demanded.
"An experiment by the Old Ones," it replied. "A genetic hybrid, not unlike myself, except your kind are too foolish to recognise your creator. Too self-willed to worship the Gods. However, you are still finely constructed to fulfill our purposes."
"The origin of my species was not the question," Maldwyn asserted. "A subject on which you seem regrettably ill-informed. However, since you recognise my vampire nature would you be so kind as to enlighten me as to your own identity. I sense some aspect of you is human and yet..."
"My mother," the thing interrupted. "Bred with Those that came to her on Samhain. I carry the seed of my Father and I must procreate to prepare for His coming."
The dialogue ceased suddenly as the girl climbed uneasily to her feet and then leapt through the broken fence to disappear beyond. The creature moved forward but Maldywn blocked, seizing it's swollen neck in his immovable grip. Struggling to escape, the thing spasmed violently in Maldwyn's clasp. The pitiless eyes and repulsive mouth strained forward as if the neck might extend it's face to meet Maldwyn's own.
In disgust Maldwyn forced his razor nails deep into the flesh and then sank his teeth like blades to drink hungrily from the throat. The creature writhed and twisted in unnatural contortions but Maldwyn drank on and on until it was finally still.
Feeling the blood quicken his body, Maldywn fell to the floor. His mind reeling with dreadful images of nebulous space and the mad dance of insane deities at the center of creation. The blood ravaged his mind like poison and in the furthest depths of his consciousness a voice echoed; 'I have mated successfully'.
Staggering wildly up through the unwelcoming veins of the night, Maldwyn finally obtained the deathly sanctuary of his coven. Here, among those who shared his bloodline, there would be safety.
Entering the stillness of the tomb, Maldwyn felt his companions stiffen like cats as he walked hazily among them. Immobile as statues they watched him from the shadows. An invisible burden making every step a gargantuan effort, Maldwyn realised that he been isolated from the family.
His vision was filled with the lethal talons that stretched out to greet him as the vampires ripped him apart. Never once did they puncture him with their gleaming teeth.
As the final vestige of life spun away into blackness immortal, he heard at last the soothing tones of Cassandra, their leader; 'He who hunts monsters should take care that he too does not become a monster.'
