Sophie Morgan (Book 1): Relative Strangers (A Modern Vampire Story) by Helen Treharne Page B
Authors: Helen Treharne
Tags: Vampires
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Neither of us uttered a word, but his silence conveyed everything. I’m going to kill you one day you bitch and if I don’t, someone else will, trust me. We're going to keep you for months; we'll have fun with you. It can take a long time to die if we want. He turned and carried the body back towards the van, closed the door and got back into the driver’s seat. Casting a sideways look at us through the window, he sneered and bared his teeth.
"I don’t want to see you here again, "Maggie shouted.
He appeared to nod, turned the key to the engine and drove off. I watched in astonishment as the van disappeared into the darkness.
CHAPTER 8
Given that Maggie had a gun and knew how to use it, I decided that it would probably be sensible to let her carry on taking charge. Besides which, she knew the area and the people. If anyone was going to be able to get us through the night, I figured it was probably going to be her.
Remembering that, despite her gun-wielding ways, Maggie was probably old enough to be my grandmother, I took most of the weight when helping to get Mickey up off the ground. The wound in his neck was healing, but he’d lost a lot of blood, and taken one hell of a beating. He was unsteady on his feet and needed help to manoeuvre his first few steps.
Maggie led the way back up the streets to O’Malley’s, and we shuffled behind her as fast as we could. She told us that we were probably lucky that we were attacked where we were; at least the bars and restaurants had all closed up by then, the handful that there were. Nobody was going to tell on us. Although there were a few flats for rent above them, they weren’t occupied by the most salubrious of tenants. The area was generally known for prostitution and small time drug dealers. Curtain twitchers rarely went to the police. Most of the residents didn't ‘officially’ live there anyway.
I couldn't help wonder what would have happened if it had all gone down in a busy, residential area. Maybe, someone would have come to our aid earlier. Still, Maggie had a point. I wasn't convinced that anyone would believe we'd just killed two vampires. Everything felt pretty surreal, with our luck we'd probably get locked up ourselves.
We walked cautiously and in silence until we eventually reached the bar. Maggie unlocked the door and pushed it open. Mickey and I shuffled through, arm in arm, and plonked ourselves down on the nearest bench.
Maggie pulled down the heavy, steel security door behind us, locked it and slid the bolts at the bottom into position. She shook it to be sure it was secure, it rattled but this seemed to satisfy here, and then closed and bolted the internal, saloon style doors behind them. Once she was done, she dragged one of the benches behind the door for extra reinforcement and propped her rifle against the bar.
Now I was sitting down, I finally began to feel the extent of my own injuries and peeled off my jacket to inspect them further. Between the two violent incidents of the evening, I had sustained more than a cut to my neck. It seemed strange that the bite could have healed so quickly compared to the pattern of bruises now appearing on my arms. Green tinges were forming on the edges of the impact sites. My right arm felt like it had been pulled out of its socket, a strange mix of aches and numbness. A chain of purple fingerprints decorated my wrist like a daisy chain. I rubbed it with my other hand, grateful that at least it wasn’t broken. I didn’t want to even think about what my knees would look like.
I studied Mickey and felt guilty for even thinking about my own condition. He’d lost most of the skin from the knuckles on both hands, his hair was matted with blood, his lip was starting to swell and he was caked in blood down most of the neck. His clothes were filthy with dirt and blood and his tee shirt was torn.
Wincing, I managed to lift my arm high enough to put it around him and I pulled him into me. He stayed there
"I don’t want to see you here again, "Maggie shouted.
He appeared to nod, turned the key to the engine and drove off. I watched in astonishment as the van disappeared into the darkness.
CHAPTER 8
Given that Maggie had a gun and knew how to use it, I decided that it would probably be sensible to let her carry on taking charge. Besides which, she knew the area and the people. If anyone was going to be able to get us through the night, I figured it was probably going to be her.
Remembering that, despite her gun-wielding ways, Maggie was probably old enough to be my grandmother, I took most of the weight when helping to get Mickey up off the ground. The wound in his neck was healing, but he’d lost a lot of blood, and taken one hell of a beating. He was unsteady on his feet and needed help to manoeuvre his first few steps.
Maggie led the way back up the streets to O’Malley’s, and we shuffled behind her as fast as we could. She told us that we were probably lucky that we were attacked where we were; at least the bars and restaurants had all closed up by then, the handful that there were. Nobody was going to tell on us. Although there were a few flats for rent above them, they weren’t occupied by the most salubrious of tenants. The area was generally known for prostitution and small time drug dealers. Curtain twitchers rarely went to the police. Most of the residents didn't ‘officially’ live there anyway.
I couldn't help wonder what would have happened if it had all gone down in a busy, residential area. Maybe, someone would have come to our aid earlier. Still, Maggie had a point. I wasn't convinced that anyone would believe we'd just killed two vampires. Everything felt pretty surreal, with our luck we'd probably get locked up ourselves.
We walked cautiously and in silence until we eventually reached the bar. Maggie unlocked the door and pushed it open. Mickey and I shuffled through, arm in arm, and plonked ourselves down on the nearest bench.
Maggie pulled down the heavy, steel security door behind us, locked it and slid the bolts at the bottom into position. She shook it to be sure it was secure, it rattled but this seemed to satisfy here, and then closed and bolted the internal, saloon style doors behind them. Once she was done, she dragged one of the benches behind the door for extra reinforcement and propped her rifle against the bar.
Now I was sitting down, I finally began to feel the extent of my own injuries and peeled off my jacket to inspect them further. Between the two violent incidents of the evening, I had sustained more than a cut to my neck. It seemed strange that the bite could have healed so quickly compared to the pattern of bruises now appearing on my arms. Green tinges were forming on the edges of the impact sites. My right arm felt like it had been pulled out of its socket, a strange mix of aches and numbness. A chain of purple fingerprints decorated my wrist like a daisy chain. I rubbed it with my other hand, grateful that at least it wasn’t broken. I didn’t want to even think about what my knees would look like.
I studied Mickey and felt guilty for even thinking about my own condition. He’d lost most of the skin from the knuckles on both hands, his hair was matted with blood, his lip was starting to swell and he was caked in blood down most of the neck. His clothes were filthy with dirt and blood and his tee shirt was torn.
Wincing, I managed to lift my arm high enough to put it around him and I pulled him into me. He stayed there
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