Peacemaker

This is the progenitor of the book Demonesque - excerpt coming soon - and of the free e-novelette, Day Strider. It was written two years ago as a part of Forward Motion's Story-a-day marathon. Enjoy.

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Peacemaker

Carriage lamps flickered on either side of the entrance to the White Horse Inn; formed circles of gold on the white paint of the walls. Set between the lamps was a wooden door, painted in a dark colour.

Standing outside, wrapped in an emerald coloured cloak over my pale green dress and bustle to ward off the chilly late Autumn air, I scanned the surrounds carefully, but all was hidden by the fog-laced night. I could hear an odd humming sound and tried to identify from whence it came. It was too constant to be conversation, too soft to be music; nothing in nature, I knew, could make that high rhythmic, burring hum.

I turned my head to the left, listening, then the right; the noise emanated from the interior of the inn. Was it of consequence that the irritation came from the very place I was to enter?

I would not find out standing here, yet, in this age, it was almost a sin, an invitation to assault and worse, for a single woman to enter an inn without a male escort.

Here, in Wiltshire, on a lonely road empty of houses but surrounded by rolling green hills and farmsteads, it would be… unfortunate should anyone interfere with me.

I had no doubts I could deflect any unwanted attention, but I would be remembered for it and that was not my intention. My party awaited me; I could not linger and taking a deep breath, I pushed open the door of inn.

All sound at the bar to my right ceased, except for that damnable humming.

The barkeeper turned towards me, his smile peeking out from his handlebar moustache, he had matching mutton chop sideburns to compensate for the receding tide of red hair.

“Good evening, Lady Scott, your party has already arrived.” He bobbed his head and the conversations resumed at a lower level.

“Thank you, Mr Devon, I’ll see to them myself.” I said and smiled back at him.

I strode down the carpeted hallway, ignoring the dark wood of the panelling and the portraitures of previous owners. I stood in front of an equally dark door and took another deep breath, removed my cloak.

The handle moved smoothly as I opened the door. I gasped at the sight before me. The two men I had come to met had not sat calmly in idle, polite conversation as gentlemen should. One man had the other by the throat and second man had a knife to the jugular of the first. The man with the knife tried hard to cut the first, determined to kill him, but he was held off easily.

“Gentlemen!” My voice was loud, attracting their attention. They gave each other an evil glare before slowly releasing their holds.

“What’s this all about?” I demanded and closed the door behind me, hung my cloak on the cedar coat rack and pulled the kid leather gloves from my hands. The room held three tables with two chairs each and a high backed lounge against the wall. It was known as ‘the ladies lounge’, since women of breeding didn’t drink with men.

Both men resumed their seats, mutinous expressions on their faces. “’Tis no business for a lady to be involved in.” The older of the two muttered and looked away. The other didn’t bother looking at me, but sat with his long legs under the table, for all appearances a man at ease with himself. His blond hair was short, perfectly groomed. His eyes were green, I knew and, at most times, were filled will amusement, usually at someone else’s expense.

“Detective Chief Inspector Morcombe,” I chastised the older man, “we are diplomats, not brawlers.”

His ruddy face flushed, accentuating the grey at his temples. The rest of his hair was an unremarkable brown, as were his eyes, although at the moment, they held cold defiance. He leaned his elbows on the table, not the mark of a gentleman. “It is only by the Queen Victoria’s command that I am here at all.”

I clasped my hands in front of me, gripped the strings of my clutch bag. “Indeed. And she thought you would be the most… reasonable of all her Guardia. And you, Sebastian,” I turned to the other man. His long forefinger was busily drawing in a pool of water left by the two ale glasses. “I would have expected more restraint from the King’s vassal. Yet, here I am, a lady of both courts, and neither of you have seen fit to correct your manners and address me as such. I know that a gentleman always rises when a lady comes into the room. Or has that changed since my mission to India?”

Both men looked momentarily chagrined and rose. Both gave me a bow with their heads. Morecombe went so far as to hold out a chair for me. I gave him a smile.

“I’ll go fetch some refreshments.” He grumbled.

“Thank you, Inspector; that would be lovely.” He bobbed his head and left me with Sebastian.

“What was that all about, Bastian?” I asked.

He raised his fingers to his temples and rubbed. “I don’t know, but that humming noise is beginning to piss me off. It’s almost painful. A deep throb in my head.” He dropped his hands and sighed. “All I know is that the Inspector has been most confrontational since I arrived. He’s supposed to be the Queen’s counsel in the negotiations, but all he can do is sneer and belittle and snipe.”

“I would suggest, Bastian, that he is afraid of you.”

“And so he should be. And so he should be. I could tear his throat out and drink every last drop.”

“Why didn’t you? Why did you let him grab you like that, and with a knife! How could you be so careless?”

“I heard you coming. I didn’t want to hurt him, for the Dark Goddess’s sake, just restrain him. This treaty is too important. It will have to wait, he comes.”

The door swung open and Morecombe came in with a tray; a golden ale for him and Bastian, wine for me. He set the tray on the table and placed the glass of white wine in front of me.

“Chardonnay,” he said. “I know you like the French variety from our meeting yesterday morning.”

“Indeed, my thanks.” I took a sip of the crisp, dry wine and tried not to smack my lips. It was delicious. Perhaps I could look into purchasing the winery.

The men took big gulps of ale and I nearly smiled. Machismo: to see who to take the largest mouthful, as if I found such childishness impressive. I wondered how they would deal with the impending belches. See who was the loudest? The longest? I waited, trying to keep the smirk off my face. Who had the better manners?

Sure enough, Bastian, quietly burped into his fist, but Morecombe’s eyes began to water before he jumped up and ran to the door. As it slammed, I heard the expulsion of air and snickered.

I had my diplomat’s face on when he returned, flushed with embarrassment.

“Excuse me,” he murmured and resumed his seat.

“I think we should get started, don’t you?” I asked glancing from one man to the other.

Both men nodded.

“The Queen,” I nodded to Morecombe, “wishes that the Vampire King,” I nodded to Bastian, “cease and desist all… taking of humans.”

“’Tis nothing but murder!” Morecombe groused.

I ignored him. “The Vampire King wishes to feed his people. And,” I held up a hand to forestall another comment from the policeman, “I might remind you, Chief Inspector, that vampires have been around a lot longer than England’s civilisation. It was they who defeated the Romans, the Saxons, the Vikings, to keep this country pure. It was only through marriage that the Saxons got a foothold in this land at all.”

Morecombe nodded. “Yeah, to save everyone from being slaughtered, I know.”

“Not so, Inspector, the Queen told you. It is written in some of the oldest texts known to man, in her private library. Who do you think wrote those books? The Celts had no written language at the time, you would think…” I bit off what I was going to say, it would have been pointless. “Excuse me, I digress. What we need here, is a solution. And my suggestion is that the Vampire King be given hunting rights, but not to kill the victims, only to feed. A taste here, a taste there, a… spell of compulsion to make the victim forget.” I took another sip of wine. It was truly of good stock.

“I don’t know that the Queen will go for that.” Morecombe muttered and watched as Bastian all but drained his glass.

“The King will.” Bastian murmured. “We only wish to be left in peace as we always have been, until…”

“Yeah, Van Helsing destroyed… infestations of vampires in Europe, didn’t he,” Morecombe sneered. “Him and his troop of slayers.”

Bastian narrowed his eyes and I could see a tic start beneath his right one. He was getting well and truly angered by Morecombe’s attitude; and I couldn’t blame him.

“Chief Inspector, I would advise you not to mention that. What he did was murder vampires, the very thing you accuse them of.”

He turned towards me, eyes fierce. “Vampires are nothing but animals. Condemned, damned, evil.”

Bastian rose unsteadily to his feet. “You talk to me of damnation? What do you know about it?”

Morecombe grinned as Bastian slumped back into his seat. “I know a lot, you blood sucker. I know that you are here alone with two humans,” his triumphant eyes met mine. “I know that the humming noise you hear gives you a bloody great headache, as it’s meant to. It’s a little invention of mine and I thought I might test out the frequency on you. It’s set to above human hearing; that’s why it affects you so.”

Bastian’s eyes met mine and I sat, stunned at the growing pink tinge. His eyes overflowed with stained water, then the liquid turned red. He held out his hands, his fingernails had turned a dark red and he coughed. Blood ran from his lips. “What have you done to me?” He whispered hoarsely.

I stood up, horrified at what I was seeing, backed away from him; his nose began to bleed and red leaked from his ears.

“A little drug I slipped into your drink. Quite safe for humans,” he nodded at me, “but quite toxic to vampires. Oh, I imagine if it was closer to daylight, the dead sleep you have would heal you in time, but it’s barely ten o’clock. A long, long way from dawn.” Morecombe rose and came to stand next to me.

I shifted backwards, appalled, sickened by what was happening. Bastian’s head slumped to the table, blood flowing from all orifices now. “What have you done?” I whispered. “What have you done?”

“Lady Scott, I have rid the world of a disgusting, amoral creature. He would have followed you home and bled you dry. I will not let these animals feed on us like we’re a Sunday roast! The Queen will understand when I tell her.” His shoulder’s lifted in a shrug. “I’ll just say he attacked me and I had to defend myself. You saw him when you came in. She’ll believe the both of us.”

I shook my head slowly. “No, Morecombe, you have started a war.”

His laugh was a bark of sound and he reached under the table and fiddled with something. He pulled out a square metal box, flicked a switch and the humming ceased, much to my relief. “Don’t need this any more. I must say it is gratifying to know it works. I can’t wait to inform the Queen. We have no need for a treaty now. Not with this and drug I’ve invented. We can hunt his kind down with impunity.”

I was aghast. “The Vampire King’s vengeance will be terrible indeed when he hears of this… abomination.”

“Bah, what can he do? He’s damned already. And I will take great pleasure in killing him myself.” We both watched as a pool of blood spread from beneath the table. “You should leave, Lady Scott, and let me clean up this mess.”

“You seek to take Van Helsing’s place in history.” I murmured watching the growing pool.

“And I will too. The name of Alexander Morecombe will be known as the greatest vampire slayer that ever lived.” Again he chuckled, the sound rich and deep with happiness.

“You are a fool, Morecombe.” I shook my head and tore my eyes from Bastian to stare in disbelief at the smug Inspector.

“Eh? Why’s that? I’ve killed myself a vampire. Nothing foolish about that.” He shook his head, fiddled with the box before putting it into his top pocket. “I’ll make sure your name isn’t mentioned in the investigation.” His laugh barked out again. “Not that there’ll be one, of course.”

I waved off his comments, stood in front of him. His eyebrows rose in surprise.

“Have you never wondered why the Queen is desperate for a treaty?” I asked harshly. “Have you never thought of why the King wants peace?”

“He won’t get it, not while I’m still standing. We humans have to stick together if we are to survive.” He patted my shoulder, then gripped both and eased me to the side as the blood pool spread, drained off the table.

I looked at poor Bastian; so much blood from one body. I swallowed hard and turned back to the foolish man.

“Then let me inform you, Inspector. Peace is essential if humans are to survive. Peace is paramount because some of the vampires have evolved.”

Morecombe stared at me. “What are you talking about?”

“Day Striders Inspector Morecombe. A vampire who can walk under the sun. Who can watch the sun rise and not burn to ash. A vampire, Morecombe, who has the strength of an immortal, the enhanced senses, who drinks blood and who can walk amongst humans. A vampire who still has vulnerabilities, but who is much, much more lethal.”

“Day…” his brows lowered and he paled. “You mean vampires can now walk during the day?”

“I mean exactly that. The barrier that is dawn no longer holds relief for humans, nor fear for some vampires.”

Morecombe leaned back against the wall. “Oh, my God! They’ll hunt us day and night! Slaughter us! But… how do you know this? I’m the Queen’s representative, and I didn’t know.”

I gave him a benign smile and extended my razor sharp eye teeth until they were points, an extra half an inch longer than usual. There was no mistaking what I was. I ran my tongue across my teeth, watching as he went white. He fumbled with his little machine and I grinned at him, gave him the full measure of the elongated teeth.

“Your box doesn’t work on Day Striders. Oh, I can hear the hum, but it is an irritant, nothing more.”

His hand dived into his pocket and he dragged out a tiny gold cross and waved it in my face. I jerked back. Not because it was anathema to me, but because I didn’t want to get hit by it.

“No cross, or garlic will help you now.” I slowly shook my head. “Some myths, you shouldn’t believe.”

He drew his knife and I batted it away from his hand. I grabbed the front of his jacket, pushed him back into a chair and I leaned into him. I lowered my mouth to his and he whimpered, his breath short and trembling; the scent of fear ripe and delicate on him.

“Now then, what is the penalty for murder, Inspector?” I asked softly, my lips brushing his. “What do you think the Queen will do to you? Give you to our King, perhaps? It is only you and I who know about your little… device and drug, isn’t it? You wanted the glory all to yourself. It wouldn’t do to share it, would it now?”

“I won’t tell, I won’t tell, I won’t tell,” he whispered the words like a prayer, a promise, but it was too late for that. He had killed; murdered a vassal of the King, and that could not go unpunished. Fortunately for him, it was not up to me.

I eased back, aware of a deep disappointment that it would be someone else who would mete out justice. “In answer to your question, the Queen is aware of the… problem which is why she so wants the treaty. The King would not see mass slaughter done either and keeps the Day Striders as emissaries and… problem solvers. We would be the same for our Queen. Oh, yes, Inspector, I am a true lady of both courts, but you don’t need to know my history.” I said and stepped away from him.

“We Day Striders are powerful enough in our own right to resist corruption; we are able to regenerate after an assassination attempt without the benefit of the healing sleep, skilful enough to fight our way out of trouble.”

I stared at Bastian, felt the quiet grief at the death of a friend and colleague. “Your job here was to deal with the finer points, not kill the King’s representative. His job was to discuss things with you. My job was to act as an intermediary, should it be necessary. I have the power of both Monarchs, Morcombe; both of them trust me to resolve this to the satisfaction of two peoples.”

I didn’t know if he was still listening to me, he was still praying. His eyes were wide with fear, unfocused. I think I really scared him. How unfortunate.

“You may have destroyed the only chance of peace, Inspector.” I looked at him. He was still praying, though it eased off when I spoke. “Did you not think of that when you came up with this plan? Did you not consider how many you would have to hunt?”

He looked away from me to Bastian and I still saw the satisfaction in the policeman’s eyes. Ah. I had his plan now. He killed one with a small box. If he could make the device bigger, he could kill us in a wholesale slaughter. Too bad greed had blinded him to the greater truth.

“It would never have worked, Inspector. Once a mass murder had been discovered, the Day Striders would have hunted the killer down. There would be no place you could hide.” I assured him.

His eyes flicked to mine, filled with hate and loathing. “There will be others after me. If I have started a war, it will not be done until all of you filthy creatures have been wiped from the face of the earth.” He snarled hoarsely.

I approached him and he sucked in a fearful breath. “If it comes down to natural selection, Morecombe, humans are our food; we have no natural enemy. You do. Us.” I lifted my cloak off the coat rack, slung it around my shoulders and fastened the clasp. Morecombe rose slowly and eyed the door.

“You can try, but you would not get far.” I said and tucked my hand into his elbow, held him hard enough that he couldn’t escape.

I eased the door open and guided him down the corridor. As I passed by the door to the bar, Mr Devon raised his head in question.

“I’m afraid we’ve made a bit of a mess in the ladies lounge,” I said with a smile, keeping my teeth from showing. “I’m going to escort the Detective Chief Inspector to Her Majesty. Would you take care of it, for me please?”

“Of course Lady Scott, anything you ask.” He gave me a brief flash of fangs before turning away to serve a customer.

I murmured just loud enough for Morecombe to hear me. “Who’s damned now, Chief Inspector? Let’s see what Their Majesties have to say.” And I guided him into the night.

© J Armstrong 2004