On The Run With A Vampire

1. Lucien

CHAPTER 1

LUCIEN

Well, this is embarrassing.

It’s been a good sixty, maybe seventy years since I last felt true pain, and I can’t say that I’ve missed it. The stake currently protruding from my back sinks further into my flesh as I fall from the fourth-storey balcony and land in an open rubbish receptacle.

As I said. Embarrassing.

Alas, I have no time to contemplate the unfortunate set of circumstances that have led to this situation because another stake is currently hurtling through the air towards me.

Grunting, I roll over onto my side just in time for the stake to narrowly miss striking me through the heart. My relief, unfortunately, is short-lived.

“Did you get him?” a voice calls from the balcony.

“Not sure.” A pause as I’m sure the respondent peers over the edge of the balcony. “We’ll have to…”

Both voices trail off as my would-be murderers disappear back inside the apartment. I give them precisely 60 seconds before they make it downstairs, which means that I need to get out of this receptacle immediately.

I groan as I push myself up, the pain in my back intensifying with each passing second. Blaine will never let me live it down if he ever finds out about this.

Not that he will, because I certainly won’t be telling anyone about this. And that’s even if I manage to survive the night. With another grunt, I manage to hoist myself out of the dumpster, doing my best to ignore the putrid stench that clings to my clothes.

Forty-five seconds.

I glance around and take in my surroundings. The alley is dimly lit, the only source of light coming from the occasional flicker of the street lamp near the entrance. It’s a maze of dumpsters and fire escapes, but I’ve navigated worse.

Not much worse, mind you. But still.

I stumble forward, my steps unsteady as I try to put as much distance between myself and the receptacle as possible. Every movement, no matter how minute, sends another jolt of pain through me. This stake is really becoming quite the thorn in my side.

Ha. Blaine would love that one.

Thirty seconds.

Given how slowly I’m currently moving, there’s no hope of escape. I need to find somewhere to hide. Fast.

There’s a narrow alley branching off to the left, and I drag myself towards it, gritting my teeth against the pain that pulses with every step.

I believe this is the kind of situation where a human might describe the adrenaline coursing through their veins as the only thing keeping them going. My veins dried up over a century ago, so it’s certainly not adrenaline keeping me moving right now.

Spite, perhaps.

Because I’ll be damned if I let those two bumbling buffoons be the end of me.

Fifteen seconds.

I duck down behind a stack of discarded crates. With any luck, Buffoon #1 and Buffoon #2 will think I fled in another direction.

Or…

Or they’ll find me immediately and this will mark the end of Lucien Valcouron. In a dark and dirty alleyway, hundreds of miles away from anyone who might be inclined to summon up an ounce of care.

Five seconds.

I take a deep breath—an irritating and functionally pointless habit I’ve never been able to kick even after 150 years—and steel myself for whatever comes next.

Four.

If my heart were still active, I imagine it would be thudding erratically in my chest right about now.

Three.

I clutch the edge of the nearest crate, the wood splintering under my iron grip.

Two.

I bare my teeth, my fangs scratching against my lips. Let it never be said that Lucien Valcouron went down without a fight.

One.

A fire escape door flies open, and Buffoon #1 and Buffoon #2 come stumbling out. Buffoon #1 is clutching a crossbow that, mercifully, isn’t currently loaded.

“Which way did he go?” she asks, aimlessly swishing the crossbow in every direction. Her heart is beating a delicious staccato, and the urge to spring from my hiding place and sink my fangs into that warm spot on her neck begins to creep over me.

“I don’t know,” hisses Buffoon #2. He plucks one of the stakes from the bandolier strapped over his chest and hands it to Buffoon #1. “But we need to find him before he strikes again.”

I swallow down an indignant scoff, lest I reveal my hiding place. But really now?

Before he strikes again.

I’m the innocent one here. All I was doing was simply enjoying a late-night snack, not bothering a soul, before they blasted through the front door shooting stakes at anything that moved.

They are the ones wreaking havoc in the streets right now. Not me.

And besides, my snack—a delightfully sweet older woman I believe was named Meredith—was more than enough to tide me over for a while. It’ll be at least a week before I need to strike again. Contrary to apparently popular belief, I do have some self-control, thank you very much.

“Do you think—” Buffoon #1 trails off and nods towards the dark night sky, her eyes comically large. “Do you think he turned into a bat and flew away?”

Buffoon #2 nods seriously. “It’s entirely possible.”

Mother, give me strength. In my time living amongst the humans, I’ve discovered they harbour several baffling misconceptions about my kind. The most egregious one being the apparent belief that we can turn into bats at whim.

Though they have managed to get a few things right. Namely, the whole ‘ drive a stake through a vampire’s heart to kill it ’ thing.

“I’d say he’s long gone by now,” Buffoon #2 says, also peering up at the sky. “But he’s injured, so he won’t have gone far.”

I’ll say.

It’s not like I particularly want to be caught right now, but the fact that they haven’t even so much as glanced down the alleyway is just pathetic.

“We’ll head back to HQ and give our report. Boss can let us know what he wants us to do next.”

With a silent sigh of exasperation, I watch as Buffoon #1 and Buffoon #2 retreat back into the building, their voices fading into the night.

Once I’m certain they’re gone, I rise from my hiding spot, ignoring the protests from my wounded back. I don’t have time to dwell on the pain right now. As stupid as the pair of them are, it’s clear that they’re only following the orders of someone much, much smarter. I have no doubt that they’ll be after me again and, as much as I hate to admit it, while I’m injured, I don’t stand any kind of a chance.

I’ll need help. Somewhere to lie low while my body heals itself. I go through my mental list of allies as I drag myself through the alleyway.

Blaine? First choice, but is on the other side of the country and would most likely laugh himself into a coma once I tell him what’s happened.

Mother? Still not talking to me. Would probably say that I deserve this for ‘running away’. Also, on the other side of the country.

Warren? The last time we saw each other, we did try to kill one another. But that was twenty, maybe even thirty years ago now. Surely he must be over it? Also, regretfully, on the other side of the country.

Hm. My list of potential allies is worryingly short. Must do something about that.

A sudden jolt of pain shoots through me, and I stumble against the nearest wall.

Priorities, Lucien. Priorities.

First things first, I need to get this stake out of me.

Though I suppose that does fall under the allies category because, very annoyingly, the stake is at an angle in my back that makes it very difficult—nigh on impossible—for me to remove myself.

Could I make the cross-country trip to Blaine’s side of the sprawling estate before I succumb to my injuries or, even worse, get caught by Buffoon #1 and Buffoon #2 again?

Doubtful.

But I have no other option. It’s not like there’s another vampire anywhere near that I could turn to for?—

I can’t believe it’s taken me so long to remember, but there is someone I could turn to. We’ve only met and spoken the one time. A fleeting moment on a train two years ago, but I didn’t sense any malice from her.

In fact, she was quite agreeable. There certainly aren’t many vampires around willing to split their territory in half in order to share the pickings with another random vampire they’ve just met. But she didn’t kick up even the slightest fuss.

Not once over the last two years have we bumped into each other, although I have kept occasional tabs on her from afar just to ensure that she’s still sticking to our nebulous territory agreement. A safety precaution, of course. I assume she’s done the same.

Raven Hartley.

I push myself off from the wall and start stalking in the direction of the nearest train station, a wide grin tugging at my lips even despite the pain.

I believe this is what the humans call a lightbulb moment.