43 - ‘Come gentle night…’

Sinclair barely said ten words to Kemp the entire night and when it was time for Kemp to leave Sinclair was no where to be found. Changing back into his street clothes, Kemp decided to go hunting, hoping to find a vampyre to deal with to alleviate some of his tension. Remembering the feeling he’d gotten at the cemetery he headed back there. Not that the vampyre would be there at the moment but if he was right it would come back before dawn.

Deciding to check the parts of the cemetery he hadn’t had a chance to that afternoon, Kemp walked slowly along the paths, reading names, making up stories for those that were buried there. As he turned a corner onto the next path his eyes lit on the name embossed above one of the large tombs. ‘Rikard’.

He froze. It can’t be this simple He stared in disbelief, pressing his hand against the cold marble as if by doing that he could make a connection with Owen. He sensed nothing, but then he knew wouldn’t. Not now. But come dawn?

Sinking to the ground he rested his back against the tomb, vowing to stay awake until the first rays of sunlight lit the cemetery.

As they so often did, his thoughts flew to Owen  and he remembered their time together. The touches, the kisses, the softly whispered words they exchanged. The happiness they shared as they walked or very rarely visited a club to listen to the music and dance, holding each other, not wanting that night or any other to end.

“Well, well, what have we here?”

The harsh voice broke Kemp’s reverie and he realized he’d fallen asleep. He tried to get up but one of the vampyres gripped his shoulder, holding him where he was.

“I do believe it’s the baby dhampir we’ve heard about,” a second vampyre said. “The one Rikard’s Child used to be so entranced with before he learned it was just that, an entrancement. Too bad he’s not around or I’d call him to let him know we had the bastard that tried to use him.”

“I didn’t…” Kemp stammered.

“Not the way we heard it,” the third vampyre sneered. “Are you here now hoping that he’ll show up so you can enthrall him again?”

Kemp felt the hold on his shoulder loosen as they taunted him and twisted away, springing to his feet, his silver blades in each hand now. “Why I’m here is none of your business,” he said angrily as he lunged at the closest vampyre. His blade scored the vampyre’s arm causing him to retreat a couple of feet. The others hissed as they closed in on Kemp, claws and fangs extending.

Knowing he was outnumbered and unwilling to die just yet, Kemp sprang upwards, landing on the roof of Rikard’s tomb. He looked wildly about to see which way he could go, spotting another tall tomb a few yards away. After closing his eyes for a second to center himself he leapt.