Saints Of Satan Chapter two

The night air felt cold against my face, but refreshing all the less. Gulping in lung full’s, I hurtled through the air, leaping form tree to tree, branch to branch. Adrenaline rushed though me, the exhilaration of the run more thrilling then the fastest roller coaster. Towns flashed by in a blur of light and sound, the countryside spanning far into the distance.
A feed would usually last me for around two weeks, so with a stomach full I felt more alive than ever. As I bounded through the countryside, I let loose a howl of delight, then sped up, storming across the land at a tremendous speed.
Gradually slowing to a jog, I reached a small village, the name on its sign smothered by a rainbow of graffiti. Although I didn’t need it, I had been to the place before on many occasions.
Carrying on into its centre, I passed small cottages that looked centuries old. A sloppy coating of plaint looked like the only thing holding the mix of ancient stone slabs and a sloppy coating of cement stable. A few dozen paces later and I found myself in front of the village pub. ‘The prized pig’ its old sign read, a pig wearing a faded gold ribbon smeared below it.
I entered slowly, watching as the room went quiet and ten pairs of eyes bored into me. Smiling warmly, I strode to the bar and took a seat on a worn stall. After a moment I turned and immediately the men glanced away, carrying on their conversations.
They were right of course, to judge me. The men were used to souls like me coming and going. I was a giveaway anyway, what with my traditional complexion. Slick jet black hair was set atop my head, and dull grey eyes, a scar running from my left eye to my jaw and a black-on-white suit. I was a real old school kind of guy.
“What can I do fer ye?” the bartender grumbled, a plump man with bushy brown hair and a sweaty round face.
“Your finest wine,” my words cut through the air with authority. The man winced.
“I’ll see what I can do,” he muttered, and began busying himself underneath the counter. I leant my elbows on the bar and I scanned over the room, eyes vigilant, searching. I was left disappointed, only I and a dozen quiet men occupied the stuffy room.
“Hello there John,” a prominent female voice said behind me. A smile played on my lips. I casually turned my head, and beside me sat the most beautiful women I had ever seen. Apparently, the rugged men in the pub thought so too, as every pair of eyes were locked onto her. Or certain parts of her anyway!
The women had deep red hair, curled in vibrant locks that tumbled down over her shoulders. Her eyes were emerald green, full of life, intelligent and fierce. The women’s slanted, angular face looked as though it had been crafted for perfection. Every feature, every part of her set my heart pounding and my spine tingling. She had garnished herself in a simple leather jacket and black jeans, although I knew that any ensemble of clothes would look radiant on her.
“You always did have a knack for surprising me,” I murmured, barely audible over the sudden increase in talk that had engulfed the small pub. Behind me, the bartender placed a martini glass on the bar and then filled it to the brim from a dusty old bottle. The man obviously didn’t have many customers who ordered anything but a pint of lager.
“I’ll have what he’s having”, the women purred, quoting a famous line, smiling as she did so. The bartender nodded clumsily, then immediately grasped another glass, quickly cleaning it and pouring the malt wine in half the time he did with mine.
The man gently handed the woman the wine, and she smiled, thanking him in her most lustful voice. He blushed, and murmured that it was “On the house”. She now beamed, and turned to me, her eyebrow raised, willing me to talk.
“Maria, how long has it been?” I decided to small talk, and she humoured me.
“I dare say it has been, what, Twenty years?”
“So it has, and might I say you don’t look like you have aged a minute,” I winked, and she laughed gently. Suddenly she took me by the hand. “Come,” she said, and lead me through a maze of tables and rowdy men to a shady corner, set aside from the rest of the pub.
“John, enough of this talk,” her voice was sweet, but now it had an air of urgency, and I realised the invitation to talk I had received a few nights ago wasn’t just for a friendly conversation and two decades of catching up. “You and I both know well what is happening to our race,” I raised an eyebrow, and she looked startled. “You haven’t heard? I knew you have been on your own these past years but word has spread throughout the entire clan, even those abroad have heard the tidings,” she paused, “Where have you been all this time?”
“Here and there. But that doesn’t matter right now, what exactly are you talking about? What are these tidings?” the news intrigued me. It was true, I had been lying low those past few years, but I had never suspected I would miss anything big.
Maria leant in close, then lowered her voice below that which a mortal could hear. “There has been word,” she breathed in deep, then sighed and continued after a subdued pause, “There has been word of the uprising of the father to damnation. They say he’s returning,” she looked hard into my eyes, searching for a reaction, but I let nothing show, and she carried on.
“The members of the Eternal Sorrow have foretold that on the night of the winter solstice of this very year, a single soul will come forth and tear the gates of between us and hell apart. It’s January, and we have less than a year until the prophecy comes to pass,”
Keeping my face straight, I thought carefully for a few moments before responding.
“When was this foretold?” I asked, no emotion in my voice. She blinked.
“Three winters past, you’re not surprised?”
“I have expected this for over a century now, it has only been a matter of time. I was only hoping we would have a few more years, perhaps even a decade before...” my voice trailed off, and as my mind became a whirr of thought, I blanked Maria’s next few words.
“John!” she snapped, clearly not happy being ignored. I shook my head, “Sorry?”
She huffed, then became serious again, “How did you know? The members-”
“Have only just announced this,” I cut her off, my voice now gentler. “You are new, when were you blooded? Only five decades past. I have been around a fair while longer, and decades ago, before I was,” I paused, shifting uncomfortably in my seat, “resigned from my post in the clan, I was a close friend of someone important. It would surprise you how easy it is to talk to him after a steaming round of alcohol...” I trailed off, chuckling gently, and Maria looked shocked.
“You got Lord James drunk! He was almost resigned for that! You’re lucky he didn’t tell anyone it was you,” she paused, “I have to say that was extremely,” she had a mischievous look on her face, “daring,” she purred, then gently run her hand along my leg. I smiled, and she giggled, then, stood. “Come with me,” she ordered, and again grasped me by the hand, hauling me easily to my feet and astounding a few nearby men.
“Are you not going to drink the dear bartenders brew?” I asked, mimicking a gentleman’s voice. With her free hand she plucked the glass from the table, downed the drink in a flash then pulled me out into the moonlit street with a torrent of wolf whistles form a few of the drunk men inside.
“Don’t you just love that fresh cool air?” she said, breathing in deep and letting loose a cloud of smoke from her nostrils. I nodded, also feeling refreshed. We began walking, and strolled off into the village, heading north towards a nearby wood that spread over the horizon.
After a few awkward moments, Maria turned around, walking backwards and studying my face. “You look like you’ve had a run with the wild,” she said, then spun back again, and the two of us walked side by side, her body so close I felt the smooth fabric of her sleeve against mine. I grimaced.
“I’ve been sleeping rough these past months. The police are getting anxious, too many people are being bled dry, I’ve had to cut down to one a month,” Maria nodded understandingly, licking her lips at the thought of a feed.
“We’ve been rationing too, though we’ve been lucky enough to sleep in a few motels every so often,” she said, and I stopped, looking down at her.
“We”? I asked. She looked away, smiling knowingly and carrying on, her boots squelching in the mud as we strode past the last of the cottages.
We walked on in a comfortable silence, the occasional chirp of a bird or hoot of an owl the only sounds disturbing the still night air.
As we reached the wood, I heard a twig snap from behind us. Maria heard too, and clenched her fists. We both turned and saw five figures collapse to the ground. Maria was about to move on them, but I motioned her to carry on as normal. She abided, and we carried on.
We heard our pursuers keep a steady pace a few dozen metres back.
I played dumb, glancing over my shoulder every so often and acting as though I didn’t see the blurs of colour as they dived behind any nearby shrubbery.
After a few minutes we heard them begin to close in. We were deep in the woods now, and had lost sight of the village a while back. In my head I counted, biding my time, all the while listening to the snapping of twigs and hasty breathing get closer.
“Now!” I roared, and the two of us spun round with abnormal speed.
We found ourselves face to face with five large men, two of which we had seen in the pub. Two of the men stood at the back, brandishing crossbows, whilst the three in the front had a mixture. One held a double ended stake and a large hunting knife. The other had an old fashioned revolver and the third, most disturbingly, a sawn off shot gun.
“Hunters,” I spat, and took on a fighting stance, spreading my arms, daring them to come closer.
“Vampire hunters,” the one with the stake said confidently. “We’ve had enough of your-” the man begun, but was cut off as Maria pounced, barrelling him to the ground and snapping his neck in two with her bare hands.
I followed suit, and dashed to the side, avoiding a bolt one of the men had fired in surprise by mere inches. In three perfectly dealt blows, I knocked the two men at the back unconscious, and then turned in sequence with Maria to the last two.
“Come on!” the one with the shot gun roared, “Let’s be having you, yer filthy creatures!” the two men aimed a gun each at the two of us. The men didn’t wait to gloat, and simultaneously pulled their triggers.
We dived to the ground faster than the blink of an eye, and in an instant exploded back to our feet. Before the hunters could shoot again, we were upon them, a blur of fangs and fists.
After a frantic few minutes, five drained corpses lay before us, bundled up against a large oak. As I brushed down my suit, Maria turned to the corpses, a wicked smile playing across her face.
“What are you-” I began but she cut me off with a quick wink and a finger to the lips. She then grasped each of the corpses and arranged them so they formed the word ‘death’, their arms and legs spread out at horrible angles the five men could never have achieved naturally in life.
“A little warning for the local police,” she said slyly, then turned and strolled on, her hips rocking from side to side with each step.