Page 34 of Kept 2
Being a thing immortal as itself?
“Uh, since when do you quote Shakespeare?” she laughs.
“Since I found out that the vampire who wants to suck my blood wrote most of his plays,” I say solemnly, “and I’m doing everything I can to try and understand him – so, in lieu of further journals, I’m reading the bard.”
“Torture,” she groans, “just let him catch you.”
I burst out laughing at that, and we both giggle for some time, just the way we used to. I needed it more than I realised. And I remember too, that I have a few pages of his second journal on my phone that I haven’t read yet.
“Margarita has Jerry mentioned anything to you about hunters – vampire hunters?”
“No.”
“Well, they are out there. They kill vampires. If you need me to break you free, if you ever need me to rescue you, I know one. All you have to do is tell me whereyouare – and life can go back to just the way it was for us, no more blood, no more fear.”
There was silence on the other end of the line for a time before she spoke.
“You don’t get it, Josie,” she says quietly, firmly, “Jerry is not like that. We are in love – I don’twantto go back to the way we were.”
“Fine,” I lie, “let’s meet up anyway. Where are you? Perhaps we are not that far from each other.”
“I’m not stupid, Josie,” she says quietly, “I’m not telling you where I am if you are running with vampire hunters.”
“I’m not running with them. I promise.”
But even as I say this, the thought occurs to me that I could, and probably should – Iabsolutelyshould be with the enemy of my enemy; even if she was an elitist bitch who needed a punch in the mouth. The woman was alive after being crushed by a vampire – perhaps she could lend me her superpowers. Maybe I didn’t have to die an excruciating and imaginative death after all. Perhaps I could become like the hunters. If Lord Montague didn’t know any better, he could kill me, and I would rise up again, run away and live my life – providing he didn’t knock my head off.
“I’ve gotta go,” I say hurriedly, rising and walking from the restaurant in the direction I saw Lucy heading, “stay safe, little Senorita.”
“You too.”
Somehow, I don’t quite hear the conviction in her voice that I would like.
Later, alone on the bedroom balcony sipping wine, my plan to catch up with Lucy having failed, and Ricardo nowhere to be seen, I pull out my phone and catch up on the journal two entries that I had yet to read.
New Entry
Eight months I have waited, but tonight my plan will come to fruition, and I will finally destroy the monster who turned me into the beast I am.
It has taken me this long to solidify my revenge, but bit by bit, I believe I have managed.
My mother was a pleasure to kill, and in fact, has given me a taste for avaricious bitches of her social standing. I feel I am doing society a service by killing them off, rather than sucking the blood of whores or working women who, in general, I’ve always found to be more honest and pious than their betters.
Yes, she died most horribly, as did the priest – but he was helpful, at the very least, as he bargained for his life. It was he, tracked down after many, many months, who provided me with the contact for the man I meet tonight.
Richard Lanesborough, a vampire hunter.
That such men existed, I had no idea. But the priest was keen to tell me all about this ‘brotherhood’ he knew about, as I pulled him apart limb from limb.
It had taken me some time since, but finally I found one of these hunters, and made contact.
But it is not I whom I wish for him to destroy, no, not yet. I have paid him handsomely to first dispense with the woman, nay creature, who turned me into a vampire – Countess Elsbeth Deauforte.
She is on her way here tonight, to Ereston, as is Mr Lanesborough, and my trap is set.
Next Entry
It seems I am destined to fail at all, and I sit tonight, morbid, wounded and broken, with only one consolation, and even he is not enough to assuage my self-pity.
