Part One
Chapter 1
Jack glared at the overgrown embankments as his train rattled towards Nottingham. He should not be here. It would end badly. He had avoided this city for so long. Travelled to all corners of the world, expanded his understanding of the men who raised him and despised them all the more. But a phone call from a dead man. How could he resist?
His gaze shifted from the dirty green of the embankments to the muddy grey sky. How the man had found his number, Jack could not be certain. He knew his reputation among certain species preceded him. But this man? Jack always assumed the reason there were more vampires in this small city than any other was because his kind no longer hunted. Now he thought it was because here they had a leader.
It had taken the caller some time to convince Jack he was who he claimed to be, but true or not, curiosity got the better of him. It would not be the council. They lacked the imagination required for a trap such as this. If he was honest, and Jack was rarely honest with anyone, being back in the city so close to the council he abandoned troubled him. Life within those walls had been difficult. Under Bagh, the council became hard, regimented, and hierarchical. They used him like the females because of his colouring, though, unlike those wretched women, he received an education. A small, hated part of him whimpered as memories of that place creeped back. He closed his eyes, shutting down unwanted memories. If they found him here, there would not be a man among them strong enough to force him to return.
The clatter of people standing and pulling bags and coats over their shoulders jolted Jack back to reality. There before him once more was the familiar grey platform washed further grey by the rain-darkened sky. He sighed. Home sweet home. He collected his coat and disembarked behind a party of college girls. One nudged her friend and pointed surreptitiously at Jack, and blushed as he caught her eye. Jack was used to the expression he saw on their faces. Jack stood head and shoulders taller than them. His broad shoulders, pale skin and hair so blonde it was almost white, made him interesting enough. But it was the icy mountain lakes of his eyes that made him truly beautiful. Growing up, the council had coveted Jack for his rare white fur. The women they forced him to meet all those years ago had practically worshiped him. And while he had never been comfortable with their institutionalized picture of him, he certainly shared their belief that he was extraordinary. He was tall, athletic, and had once held a coveted role within the council; Jack was a scout. He also had a cunning lacked by many of his kind. At least, those under the guidance of the council. It was this, alongside his intellect and selective empathy, which helped him escape the council's rule. He knew they had spies out here, too. Part of him longed to meet one. Perhaps they could take a message back to Bagh and his cronies. Mind you, he thought, they stopped looking for him years ago, after that girl and her pet cat escaped. What a mess the council was in. Outsmarted and outgunned by an adolescent and a woman at that. As he walked, he pulled his phone from a pocket and searched for an address. Mandarin, he thought he remembered the place; it was a bar or restaurant or something. Gaudy, he reflected, but given whom he was meeting, it seemed appropriate. He left the station by a side entrance and pulled up the collar of his tailored coat. Away from the crush of people and the cacophony of scent they carried with them, he inhaled. The scent of a once familiar city; somewhat muted by the drizzle washed over him. Sandstone, diesel, stagnant water, people, coffee, last night alcohol, and many unspeakable humours. But one chord sang out above all else. Vampire.
Talbot roamed with the confidence of one who knew the tunnel held nothing more terrifying than him. Other people, weaker people, would have viewed his affliction as some terrible fate. But Talbot had always been a predator. A grin played on his lips. When he arrived in this city, he heard stories. Whispered tales of sudden death in the night, of some silent stalking beast. Tigers in the dark. He shook his head. The things some people would believe.
Talbot hunted all night and had nothing to show for it. When the sun rose, he had gone underground. It was three days since he last ate. Hunger consumed him. He rubbed his temples, attempting to soothe the migraine his appetite created. Frustrated, he walked on, dead-end after dead-end, delivering nothing but the occasional dead rat. Everything here was dead, even the air. He had all but given up when a sharp breeze cut through the lifeless air. He turned his face to it. There was light at the end of the tunnel. It wasn't bright; barely light at all, but it was all Talbot needed. He smiled the sort of smile you would not wish to encounter in the dark and moved towards it. Thin light illuminated moats of dust dancing in a breeze that should not exist so far underground. As he drew closer, he saw an old door, barred by heavy planks of wood haphazardly, and somewhat desperately, nailed over it. He placed a rough hand on a plank, closed his eyes, and listened. From the other side came an electrical buzz, the sharp scent of chlorine, and, to his delight, a single heartbeat. Impatient to get to his prey, he pulled the planks from the door and failed to notice something that may have saved his life. Someone had barricaded this door from inside the tunnel.
Billi sat on the side of the pool, her legs in the water. This slightly creepy little room had been her reason for leaving the big house. A choice she never fully understood. She had not wanted to leave, not really, but staying had become too confusing. Sally had needed a reason, and this had been it. Billi was alone for the first time in her life. Now she could be happy. And if she told herself that enough, one day she might even believe it.
It was early. The pool was empty. It usually was, regardless of the time of day. Most of the building's residents avoided this place. It was easy to see what kept them away. A building with a pool sounds great, and for Billi it was. It's just that most people want a pool that feels luxurious, or at least luxury adjacent. This was neither. The low ceilings and all too slender support beams gave the impression of barely contained collapse. Jaundiced bulbs highlighted a lack of natural light and the musty smell emanating from the AstroTurf lining the poolside emphasized the lack of airflow. Billi had once asked a caretaker why they laid the damn stuff all around the pool. He said it was to stop people slipping on wet tiles. Maybe it worked once. Now aged and damp, its fraying ends did their best to trip the most agile of walkers. But Billi thought it was the mural keeping people away. It overwhelmed the entire room, ceiling and all. Its desperate cheerfulness grated. It's lack of depth serving somehow to make the room feel smaller. It was supposed to be an exotic beach. Painted, Billi thought, by someone who had never seen a beach, let alone an exotic one. There were too many monkeys, and from one corner, a tiger leered at her. Bright macaws flew across a blue and white sky, while the sun set in the corner. The whole thing would have been less upsetting if it had been a jaguar watching her and not a tiger. Pick a damn continent. Whatever it was keeping people out, Billi did not care. This was her space, her time, and may the Gods help anyone who tried to take it away. She stood and dived into the cool water. Washing away all thought as she swam. Yet, something was not right. A sudden awareness she was no longer alone prickled down her spine, dragging with it the realization that whoever had violated this sacred space had not arrived by the main door, and the fact she could smell him over the chlorine made her teeth itch. She stopped swimming, furious at this intrusion, and pulled her toned body from the water. Sat once more with her legs in the pool, she sighed and waited for the inevitable. Then, soundlessly, but not scentlessly, it happened.
Talbot stood mere inches from the girl, her feet dangling serenely in the pool. She hadn't noticed. Good job, too. It had been a few days since his last meal, and he was in no mood to chase. The screaming always gave him a headache, and he already had one of those. With a smooth, practiced movement, he grabbed the girl by the throat, lifted her with ease, and turned her to face him. She tried to scream, but his grip was too tight. Gasping for air, she kicked out ineffectively and clawed at his arms. All to no avail. She was his now. Finally able to see her up close, he grinned a smile of genuine pleasure. Had he not been so hungry, he would have forced himself on her. Even with her face contorted in fear, her delicate brown skin, rich amber eyes and long black hair were enthralling. He gazed longingly at her as she struggled in his hand. He smirked and released his grip a little. She gasped for air.
'Didn't your mother tell you never to go anywhere alone?'
He growled through elongated canines. Then watched in growing confusion as her expression shifted from terrified damsel in distress, passed through boredom, and landed firmly in sardonic. She shot him a grin like a dagger.
'Didn't yours tell you not to play with your food?' She asked.
She sounded calm, but Talbot could see the fury bubble behind her eyes. His mind raced. She should be begging for her life, not smiling at him like he was an idiot. Then she blew him a kiss.
'What are you?' He demanded, lifting her higher into the air.
If he was trying to scare her, he failed. She gave an exasperated sigh.
'Asking questions? That's good, though maybe a little late.' She groaned, obviously bored. 'I am wearing a tiger print costume, aren't I? I do that on purpose, you know. A little heads up. I really dislike the taste of vampire.' she said, raising both eyebrows, as one desperately trying to communicate the obvious to an idiot.
'No,' he murmured, 'they're stories, they're not real.'
He looked into her eye's, her cat-like amber eyes. She winked. Now it was his turn to look terrified. The girl almost laughed.
'What's the matter?' She purred. 'Cat got your tongue?'
Billi felt Talbots grip weaken. He glanced past her, gauging the distance to a door. Any door. Desperation told him he could make it. Reality doubted it. He snarled, his canines now his only defence. Billi knew what he was thinking. His face told a story she had read many times. She closed her eyes, exhaled deeply, and glanced at the vampire. For a moment, as hunter watched prey, all was still. Then, in a sudden explosion of teeth and fur, Billi transformed into a furious Bengal Tiger. Terror gripped Talbot's body. No longer facing a beautiful semi-naked woman, he now beheld a nightmare. Billi pounced, knocking Talbot to the ground, and decapitated him with a single bloodless bite. Dust crumbled into the plastic grass as the vampire's body surrendered to death. Instantly back in human form, Billi shivered. One benefit of her tiger form was definitely the fur. The major downside was that her abrupt transformation had destroyed what little she had been wearing. Water dripped from her naked body as she darted for the shelter of a large white towel and folded herself into its warmth. She glared at the mess of ash and the remains of her ruined swimsuit.
'Idiot.' She said, raising a hand to her head and sighing. Gazing into the water, she spotted her goggles at the bottom of the pool.
'Fucking vampires.' She said.
She dropped her towel and dived unselfconsciously into the water.
Billi drew a fresh white towel around her shoulders and slumped onto the edge of her bed. He had entered her home, her sanctuary. How dare he? OK, I killed the bastard. But since when did vampires not realize I live here? She rubbed her face in her hands and took a deep, calming breath. It did not work. She stood and threw the towel in the washing basket. She stank. Two showers later and the stench of vampire was immovable. She sipped her coffee and grimaced. It was no use. She would taste nothing but vampire all day. Abandoning her coffee, she crossed to the office and dropped into a chair with unconcealed annoyance. Dragging a red book from a desk draw she scribbled some notes in her private shorthand. Then turned her attention to a street map pinned to the wall behind her. Red dots scattered its surface, each depicted an encounter with vampires. She added a new red sticker. Slapping it over her building, scowling at the map as though it had insulted her. A kill rarely affected her mood, but today her anger simmered, threatening to derail her entirely. He attacked her at home. Vampires could be stupid, but they were not usually suicidal. To approach her like that. How dare he! Vampires were survivors by nature, and bad news like Billi had travelled fast. Her building was off-limits to those who wanted to survive the night. Perhaps this idiot was new and did not know. She hoped that was the case. Whatever his reasons, she had to tell someone.
Sally strode through the empty streets. It was early. She loved the city at this time of day. It was quiet, still asleep. Gentle dawn light bathed the streets, painting them gold, making the city feel expansive. And right now, she needed that. Space, silence. The delicate and possibly imaginary, warmth of the early spring sun soothed her back to herself. Last night's discovery had left her cold, and more than a little uneasy. It wasn't the first memory she had walked, but it was the most troubling. Since mastering the skill of memory walking, Sally had witnessed the grizzly end of many an unfortunate soul glimpsed across the vastness of time. Last night's trip into the past had not scared her for what it showed, rather for what it might mean.
Last night Sally sat at her makeshift desk in the basement office, as she did most nights. It was her favourite place in the house. Down among the old, broken Victorian wine wracks in an alcove of the vaulted cellar. She made it her own. While the house was extraordinary, and she was certainly grateful to live in it, it was not hers. It never felt like home. This space did. Here in her battered leather armchair, she sat surrounded by books and papers piled high on old scaffolding boards pushed through the wine wrack and sanded smooth. Diamond shaped wracking once home to expensive bottles of wine, now held ancient rolls of parchment and pile after pile of antique leather-bound books. This was her sanctuary, and since Billi had moved out, she found herself down here often. She had electricity, a kettle, and a small fridge. There was even an incredibly fluffy cat bed in one corner. Beneath the light of a single un-shaded bulb and far more candles than seemed necessary, or safe in such a kindling heavy space, Sally pulled a blanket over her shoulders and sipped tea from a much-used mug. It was a gift from Billi and had the words, "I tolerate you," glazed along one side. She loved that mug. A large and slightly foxed map of Nottingham hung on the wall behind her. Over the years Sally had drawn every cave she knew, over of the streets and buildings in red pen, leaving the map littered with a network of over six hundred caves and tunnels. Here and there a red X marked those caves she could not get in to. They had either collapsed or were home to too many vampires.
On her lap sat a book open to a page showing a 17th century woodcut of a naked red skinned woman embracing a well-dressed English noble-man. Around the embracing couple, vampire fought werecat. No, Sally thought. She looked at it again. And yes, vampire fought werecat, but now she was looking properly, she realized it was more than that. Cat fought cat, cat fought vampire, vampire fought cat. It was chaos. And at its centre, hanging above the fighters, was a towering figure, its face hidden beneath a deep cowl, robes billowing under outstretched arms. Under the drawing were the words; Yfel, Nottingham 1667. This was a memory. A moment in time captured by the artist. It was possible to walk among these memories. The council did not teach it. That kind of magic threatened them, so they outlawed it. It became rumour and speculation. But in the secrecy of the servants' quarters where Sally grew up, she had seen it done. And here, in the safety of this borrowed home, Sally taught herself how to do it. Give her enough books and there was nothing Sally Ann Granger could not figure out. She placed her mug on the desk, took a deep breath, and closed her eyes. Then, with the briefest hesitation, placed her hand on the image.
Her feet hit the ground; she stumbled. Every memory Sally had entered was unique, shaped by the artist. This one was slow motion. Whoever drew this wanted the viewer to see everything. It was also silent, which gave Sally a strange, disassociated feeling. Fighting surrounded her. Bodies littered the ground. Where am I? She thought, looking up. She was standing in a deep sandstone pit. Well, that made sense. Nottingham was mainly sandstone. Ahead of her, vampires, tigers, lions, leopards, and possibly humans, fought fiercely. Why are they fighting? Sally wondered. This was not a battle she recognized. In the centre of the fighters, something dark moved. A blue, white streak, like frozen lightning, flashed into existence and pulsated in and out of focus, making her nauseous. From it poured a large, hooded figure, made of nothing more than mist. As it rose higher, cats and vampires scattered. The fighting stopped as everyone fled, all but two who stood defiant. A smart but dishevelled vampire, Sally knew to be Eldred, now more myth than man, and a black panther she believed to be the Lady Xoc, a Maya queen. Eldred stood bloodied and exhausted. In one hand, he held a long package wrapped in cloth. He turned to the panther, as tears streaked his face. Xoc stood, transforming into a beautiful, naked Maya woman. Eldred gently cupped her cheek in his free hand. She nuzzled it gently. They fascinated Sally. They were lovers. A vampire and a cat? No. They couldn't. And yet, Sally watched as Eldred reluctantly handed Xoc the package. She took it gently and removed the cloth to reveal a long sword. She grasped the hilt, and the shaft burst into flame. Xoc glanced affectionately at Eldred, before rushing at the hooded figure, flaming sword grasped in both hands above her head. She leapt. The flames of the shaft traced a bright arc through the sky. As Sally stared at the strange, hooded figure, a wave of something terrifying hit her. Whatever it was beneath that deep cowl, it was looking at her. She could not see its face, but her stomach knotted itself horribly. This cannot be happening, she thought. The memory was looking at her. Frozen in fear and fighting the urge to throw up her dinner, Sally watched, relieved, as the sword finally met its target. An explosion of blue-white light filled Sally's vision. When her sight returned, she saw Eldred helping Xoc unsteadily to her feet; the hooded phantom gone, and the sword abandoned and fire less in the sand. A relieved smile crossed Eldred's face. He moved a hand to stroke Xoc's cheek once more, but just before his fingers brushed her cheek, Lady Xoc disappeared. In the place she had stood was a small jade figurine. Eldred collapsed to his knees.
Sally's phone beeped, dragging her from the strangeness of the memory, and she realized with some relief that her feet had taken her exactly where she needed to be. She dug her phone out of her bag and smiled as she saw a message from Billi. It was a photo of her notebook in her usual shorthand. A vampire in her pool? Billi would be furious. Sally knew she should call, but she had no time. She settled instead for replying with a shocked cat emoji, knowing its overt cuteness would irritate Billi, and headed for the lecture hall. As she waited in the wings, Sally straightened her immaculate vintage suit and tucked an errant red hair back into her poodle up-do. Her name was called from the stage, and she took her place at the podium.
The lights dimmed; images flashed across a large screen behind her. Images with a common theme. Cats. Cats throughout history. Mummified cats, statues of cats, paintings of cats. Even a video of cats Sally had pulled from the internet. This got a laugh. Sally smiled and addressed her audience.
'Bastet, Sekhmet, Mafdet, Nergal, Dawon, Kasha, Mishipeshu, Barong Ket, all worshiped as gods, all depicted as cats. It seems you can find a god connected to a cat in just about every culture. The Mayan people had several gods depicted as jaguars. Cats pulled the Norse goddess Freyja chariot, the Mochic pre-Inca civilization worshiped Ai-Apaec, a man able to assume the form of a tomcat. Chinese families worshipped Li Shou as he protected crops from rodents. In Poland, Ovinnik, a black cat, watched over farm animals and chased away evil spirits. In Greek mythology, the goddess Hecate transformed into a cat to escape Typon. Even on our small islands, cats have held significance alongside the gods. Ceridwen, a Welsh goddess, had her earthly bidding carried out by white cats. Cats are, I'm sure you'd agree, pretty innocuous creatures. And yet for centuries they have fascinated humanity. We worshiped them once, and I could argue we still do. It's certainly hard to deny cats hold a treasured place in our society. Today, we are going to explore why this might be the case.'
Jack walked into town. The city had altered so much construction in a few short years. Even the ugly car park at Broadmarsh had gone. He sniffed the air and smirked. Some things never change, he mused, as the scent of vampire washed over him once more. The smile vanished when he reached Garners Hill, so many stairs. He had forgotten how steep this city could get. Well, he thought, let's call this exercise. Five minutes later, Jack stared up at the sleek black lacquered letters above a large red door. Mandarin. It was impressive. This building, like most in the Lace Market, began life as a warehouse. Not a soulless modern warehouse, but a stone and brick fortresses raised in a time when style was as important as function. The arched, double-wide doorway no longer welcomed horse and cart, but night-time revellers. How did we miss this? All that red and black, and the secluded seductive style of the place? It screamed vampire. Well, that and the smell, he added, you never get used to the smell. Had they been here all the time? They must have been. It hardly mattered now. The council was unlikely to act, even if they knew. They could annihilate them. Destroy their greatest enemy. Instead, they cower in their secret commune and use their power to do what? Lord it over a few unfortunates? We are so short-sighted. He crossed the road and pressed the intercom.
'Yes?' said a female voice.
'It's Jack.' He heard the lock click and watched the door swing inwards as if by magic. He rolled his eyes. 'How terrifying.' He said in ringing sarcasm as he strode into the building. Bare stone echoed underfoot. Jack waited for as his eyes adjusted to the warm light of hundreds of candles. What's wrong with electricity? He thought. There's a light switch right there. I can see it. It's always the same with vampires, style over substance. He turned to see a woman closing the door behind him. Her sudden appearance did not come as a shock. His sense of smell was better than even the most sensitive bloodhound. While he expected this kind of theatre when dealing with vampires, it still grated. They did so enjoy a mysterious atmosphere. Hundreds of years of literature had gone to their heads. He tilted his head and examined her. Not bad, he thought. She was tall and slim. Her unnecessary black corset gave her a perfectly proportioned silhouette. Her bright emerald eyes, deep Black skin and halo of dark curls, along with a poise missing from most humans, gave her an ethereal quality. Yet Jack remained unimpressed. For all that she was beautiful, the stench of vampire made her nothing but unappealing. He walked towards her, unamused, and fought back the urge to kill her right here, right now. He stood so close his breath caressed her cheek. She froze; poise gone. Jack knew she was fighting the impulse to run and smiled coldly. Fear, that was more like it.
'I am not some pathetic human you can put in fear.'
He ran the back of his hand down her cold cheek, feeling her tremble.
'The stench of you offends my very being.'
He hooked a finger under her chin and lifted her head, forcing her to meet his icy gaze.
'Take me to him.'
Jack followed the vampire. He was becoming uncomfortable. Not out of fear, but out of a desperate urge to kill. Vampires were his hereditary enemy. He learned from a young age to kill them on sight. Usually, he did. Vampires were dangerous, and by killing them, he was serving humanity. Protecting them in secret, all for the greater good. A hypocrisy he had long ago grown tired of. He wiped the disdain from his face as he entered the loft bar. It took a while to register what he was seeing. Never had he seen so many vampires in one place. Still, no matter their numbers, he thought, they knew they'd lose if they attacked him. The room was high ceilinged and spanned by oak beams, darkened with time. Once again, candles burned on every flat surface. What was it with vampires and electricity? He wondered as he drifted towards the far wall. Large ornate red paper lanterns hung low over black gloss tables. Heavy red curtains blocked all-natural light. A cello played in a hidden corner. Jack's nose informed him a middle-aged and terrified woman was playing it somewhere to the left of him. He could smell her fear and the anticipation of the vampires watching her. Jack took this in, while never taking his eyes from the neat, unassuming man sitting on a plush sofa against the far wall. His nose told him something else. He raised his eyebrows. Interesting, he thought, pulling his gaze from the man on the sofa, looking for the creature he knew to be there. He took in the other vampires too and felt a pinch of annoyance as he spotted their weapons. They were all armed. That was to be expected. But copper, he thought, they bloody well all have copper bloody blades. Well, that complicated things, but they'd hardly slow me down, hardly. Then Jack's gaze fell upon the werewolf. It sat alone, glowering at him. Strange to find one bunking with vampires. New too, probably only five or six cycles in. Have they trapped him or blackmailed him? Why else would it be here? He stared into the wolfs dark brown eyes and addressed the room.
'You should have told me you had a doggy. I'd have brought it a bone. Who's a good boy?' Jack said, grinning at the sniggers of the vampires and the growl of the wolf.
He turned back to the man lounging on the long couch. This man was the villain of every story Jack had been told as a child. He was the big bad who stalked his nightmares. Him, Jack thought, this neat, unobtrusive man in the tailored suit? He smiled at Jack with such infuriating calm that he wanted to rush at the closest vampire, just to see if he could rile him. He settled instead for vague insults.
'I see you haven't discovered electricity yet. Is this more theatre designed to intimidate? It's working wonderfully.'
Jack noted with some irritation the amused smile on Eldred's pale face was still resolutely there. He sat in the vacant seat opposite Eldred, who poured two cups of tea with exasperating gentility and a little too much ceremony. Eldred pushed a China cup across the table. As Jack reached out to take it, every vampire in the room placed a hand on their weapon. Every vampire except Eldred. This one is not like the others, Jack realised. Ok, Jack had to admit, he had the green eyes, the lack of a heartbeat, but there was a warmth to him too. A strange strength that came from deep within him. Most vampires were driven only by lust, a lust for blood, and desperately needed to survive at any cost. Eldred lacked that, and Jack got the distinct impression that had he not been surrounded by so many bodyguards, Eldred would remain unarmed.
'You must excuse them.' Eldred said that little irritating smile still unmoving. 'The thought of meeting "The White Tiger" has them rather on edge.' Eldred said.
Jack smiled briefly. At least they knew who they were dealing with.
'They've heard a lot about you, as have I.' Eldred said in a voice as smooth as his suit. 'A cat who kills cats for money. Controversial, no? I thought you people worshipped yourselves religiously.' He said, meeting Jack's steely gaze and smiled.
'And I thought you were dead.' Jack retorted.
Ok, he had to admit it was not his greatest comeback, but this man made him feel uncomfortable, and Jack was not accustomed to that.
'As for my kind, their lack of vision will be their downfall, if it hasn't been already. I have merely expanded my horizons.'
'A sensible survival strategy for one who has left the comforts of the council's chambers.' He said, 'I hope they have not expanded so far that my offer becomes unacceptable.'
He sipped his tea, his deep emerald eyes never leaving Jack's face.
'There's a cat - '
'Why not send the dog?' Jack cut in.
That did it, that ruffled something. Jack smirked as Eldred raised a single eyebrow, gave Jack half a smile, and waved a hand dismissively. He felt the vampire behind him unclench. Eldred looked over at the werewolf and sighed.
'George has been nothing but a disappointment, I'm afraid.' Eldred said, looking back at Jack. 'I need this fixing. Are you interested or not?'
Jack shrugged and sipped his tea.
'For the right price, old man, I'll fix anything.'