Whaling City Vampires: Love Beyond Death
Alison Fish
Whaling City Vampires: Love Beyond Death
Copyright 2005 Alison Fish
Dedicated to my father
Lawrence H. Strickland
1936-2003
********
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
About the Author
Chapter One
The luscious aroma of blood drew Amy through the dark streets and alleys in search of some easy prey. A rum-soaked sailor or an unconscious vagrant would serve her need for nourishment. Rats skittered past her feet, their fur ruffling the hem of her cloak and skirt. But even in her desperate and heartbroken state she wouldn't resort to feeding on the blood of filthy rats. She moved in slow hungry despair through an alley made even darker at night by the soot from the local factories and the smoke of the hot tar used for shipbuilding along the bank of the Thames River. This was her first night out hunting alone and the first time in her life she had ever been so utterly alone. For days she had sobbed alone in her coffin grieving the sudden and mysterious disappearance of her lover and sire, Robert.
Several days earlier she had risen from her casket to find Robert and his casket gone from the lair they shared in the basement of a burned and abandoned house a few blocks west of the river. After the initial momentary shock of his sudden absence had passed and she fully comprehended the reality that he was gone, Amy fell to her knees in the musty dirt where Robert's coffin had rested only hours before. She ran her icy delicate-looking hands over the bare earth before her as though caressing the space where her lover had once occupied. Her lips pulled away from her razor-sharp teeth as her mouth opened wide enough to release a terrified scream that nearly overpowered her from within but only managed to escape her lips as a deep groan of anguish. The profound and powerful groan began in the pit of her stomach and spread throughout her entire body possessing her whole being and finally escaping through her gaping mouth, wracking her body and shivering the rotting abandoned remains of the house above. She remained in that spot on the cold bare cellar floor moaning and sobbing in pain until dawn when she crawled back into her coffin after considering exposing herself to the daylight and ending her agony for good. The idea that Robert could possibly return to her was the only reason Amy was able to gather the motivation to preserve her now worthless life by sheltering herself in her coffin before the sun fully rose.
She couldn't understand what would possess him to leave her. Robert had promised they would be together forever. Each night just before dawn as they retreated to their caskets to rest until evening, he would look deeply into her eyes, tenderly kiss her and whisper, "for eternity." What had happened to prevent him from fulfilling his vow? Amy had never loved anyone the way she loved Robert, with all her heart and soul, and she believed he felt the same about her. She couldn't think of any reason why he would abandon her, especially after promising daily to be with her throughout eternity. They had already enjoyed five years together living, loving and hunting together in Amy's hometown of New London. Life without Robert would be unbearably painful and even unimaginable. Amy had devoted every moment and every thought, her entire life, to Robert and their existence as lovers, two halves of a whole. She had never been in such agony and never felt so utterly alone.
Even though her chest felt like it would tear into pieces from her broken heart and she was tempted to simply remain confined inside of her coffin forever or remain outdoors until sunrise and let the sun turn her to ash, she gathered what little strength she had left to leave the lair in search of blood to keep herself strong in the hope that Robert would soon return to her. She had no desire to go on living without Robert, but she couldn't yet abandon hope that he would find her again.
As she exited the alley that led away from the riverbank, which was crowded with wharves and workshops that serviced the booming whaling industry the faint sound of sobbing caught her attention. She followed the sound until she caught the unmistakable scent of a young woman barely detectable at first through the smell of livestock waiting to board an outgoing ship and work animals stabled for the night throughout the city. Her hunger for blood and the sound of crying gave Amy hope that a distraught victim consumed with emotion would be easy prey. She hungrily followed the sound of soft sobs, the deliciously bloody aroma becoming stronger the nearer she came to a young black woman sitting on the grass behind a small white garden shed in the back yard of one of the larger white houses that lined the main road leading into the city center. The young woman sobbed uncontrollably into her arms, which were folded over her bent knees and didn't detect Amy's silent approach.
"Why are you crying?" Amy, as a rule, never spoke to her prey before attacking. Robert had taught her that stealthily stalking a victim from a short distance, then quickly moving in for the kill when it was certain the attack wouldn't be witnessed, was the safest, most efficient method of feeding. A victim shouldn't under any circumstances have the chance of identifying their attacker in case a clean kill was interrupted. Nor should they be given the slightest opportunity to scream or make any sounds of a struggle. Even though the physical strength of a human was no match for that of a vampire, a few seconds of futile fleeing or struggling could attract the attention of anyone who may be approaching the scene. Looking down at the young woman who appeared to be about the same age as Amy at the time of her own death, she sympathized with the profound sadness of the sorrowful figure.
The girl looked up to find a young nicely dressed white woman looming over her and slowed her sobs for fear of being punished for crying as she had been many times in the past. She feared that what was already an unbearably horrible evening was going to get worse.
"I can't say, Miss," she wiped her tear covered face on the front of her worn nightdress as her heart beat rapidly in fear, "I'd be in awful trouble if I told and I wouldn't say what happened out loud anyhow." She began to rise from where she was sitting, but something in Amy's steady gaze made her return to her seat on the grass.
"It must be something terrible to make you cry so inconsolably," Amy knelt down and tried to appear compassionate as her near desperate hunger for blood threatened to overpower her attempt to befriend her prey and put her at ease. She had yet to taste the blood of a Negro and wondered how different the flavor would be in comparison to white blood. The aroma, especially at such close range, was certainly just as alluring as the blood of a white person.
"Yeah, I can say that much," she still looked nervously downward toward the front of her tattered dress," It was the worse thing that could ever happen to me."
Amy didn't really care what horrible event had put this girl into such a state of despair, but guessed it had something to do with
the musky scent of recent sex that mingled with her alluring bloody aroma. She wanted to gain the girl's trust, and slowly lowered herself down closer to her prey, "Maybe it will help you feel better to talk about it."
"No!" she became tense with fear and shrank away from Amy, "I'll never tell anyone what happened. If he found out I told, he'll kill me. He told me so. Besides, I don't even know you. He probably sent you here to test me, so he can have a good reason to kill me, not that he needs one."
"I haven't the slightest idea what or whom you're talking about," Driven by hunger Amy was becoming impatient with the girl's resistance but was also beginning to feel strangely sorry for her. She had seldom felt any compassion or sympathy for any of her victims of the last five years, but the loss of Robert caused such deep sadness and loneliness like she had never felt before. She realized that this girl was all alone with a horrible secret she could never share just like Amy, "I only wanted to try to help you."
"Why?" the frightened girl still looked downward as she spoke, "Nobody's ever wanted to help me before, especially a pretty white lady."
Amy moved slightly away as she sat on the ground next to the girl in an attempt to make the girl feel less threatened, "What's your name?"
"I'll tell you my name but I won't tell you anything else. You can act nice to me all you want. You can even beat me all you want. I've been beaten plenty. But I'll never tell you what happened tonight. That's something nobody will ever beat out of me. I'll be taking this secret to my grave."
"You didn't tell me your name."
"It's Ruthie," she gave Amy a distrustful sidelong glance as she spoke. She hoped that divulging this bit of information didn't make Amy think she would get her to confide her horrible secret as well.
"I'm glad to meet you, Ruthie, I'm Amy," and she surprised herself by genuinely meaning it. Amy had developed a real ambivalence for humans since her death and transformation to a vampire; however, Ruthie's situation made Amy realize that she could still have something in common with humans-loneliness and despair.
Amy slowly moved in toward Ruthie again and looked into her eyes as she tilted Ruthie's trembling chin upward, "I can help you without your ever having to tell me your secret," As Ruthie's expression altered from frightened misery to confusion, Amy took her by the shoulders and holding her close, sunk her teeth into Ruthie's soft dark neck.
