45 - ‘Come gentle night…’

As the second vampyre fled Marston inquired, “What of this one,” looking at the trio’s leader.

“That,” Kemp replied as he looked at the vampyre, “is up to him.”

“How so?” the vampyre hissed.

“Tell me where I can find Rikard and his Child and you will be marked and set free once I’ve verified the truth of your answer. Lie to me and I will make your death slow and painful.”

“And if I tell you I don’t know where they are?”

Kemp glanced at his father. “Hold him?”

“It will be my pleasure.” Marston’s hand flashed out, gripping the vampyre’s chin as he forced him to look into his eyes. “He cannot move until I release him, but he can feel and speak.”

“Now, where are Rikard and his Child?” Kemp asked again.

“You are bluffing, you don’t have the guts to do more to me than what you did to my companion,” the vampyre sneered. “So go fuck yourself.”

Kemp’s smile was savage as he tore open the vampyre’s shirt. “Tell me,” he hissed. Kemp put the point of his blade against the vampyre’s sternum and pressed in until the tip touched bone. Then, with infinite slowness he began to draw the blade down while he locked eyes with the vampyre. The rank smell of burning flesh drifted up and away as the vampyre screamed. Kemp stopped when the blade reached the end of the bone and pierced deeply into the solid flesh beneath.  

“I can continue this indefinitely, and will until you tell me what I want to know.”

For a long moment the vampyre looked as if he would maintain his silence, his face frozen in a rictus of pain. Then he gave the barest of nods. “Rikard has a home half a mile from here,” he spat out, giving Kemp the address.

“And Owen? Is he there too?”

The vampyre’s smile was triumphant as he looked down at Kemp. “He has vanished with his lover, another of my kind. They are rogue, both of them. Whether they are in the city is anyone’s guess.”

“You’re lying,” Kemp shouted, plunging the blade deep into the vampyre’s chest.

“He wasn’t,” Marston said quietly to his son while he watched the vampyre disintegrate into ashes. “I think we should have a talk with Rikard now. He may be able to tell us what you need to know.”

“He has to have been lying,” Kemp protested even as he knew his father spoke the truth.

“For your sake I wish he had been.” Marston drew Kemp into his embrace, holding him as Kemp fought unsuccessfully not to let his emotions spill out.