Part 7
-(Male Reader)-
Just a quick chapter to show that I haven't forgotten this! Or my account in general tbf.
=========
Rain had started to come down as Jonathan stepped back out onto the street, leaving the temporary sanctuary of the Turquoise Turtle. He briefly wondered if his escort was still lingering somewhere nearby, but he doubted it.
"I will get to the bottom of this intrigue. Of what’s been done to me. To this city." He muttered the words to himself. It was clear that the aftermath of the war and this epidemic were not the only rot London suffered from.
As he turned the corner towards the docks, the world seemed to shift once again. The colouring around him dissipated, and while his head still spun, he didn’t stagger this time—thankfully. The last thing he needed right now was to fall over his own feet in the middle of the street, and in the rain at that.
Blood spatters on the dock seemed to be illuminated, guiding him. As he walked closer, he noticed the corpse slumped in the boat.
'Is this William? Surely not.' The crate of alcohol next to the body did nothing to ease the suspicion.
He reached out and grasped the man’s bloodied wrist.
"This body is still warm…This man has just been drained of blood." Once again he was too late, but clearly on the right track.
Jonathan crouched as best he could, mostly so he wouldn’t end up falling into the boat when he leaned over. He’d had enough of lying on top of corpses to last a lifetime.
He squinted, using the low glow of the petroleum hand lamp that sat on the other side of the cadaver to take in as many details as he could. The corpse had three fairly deep lacerations on the right side of its face, explaining the amount of blood there. Jonathan also noticed a knife holder attached to the man’s belt.
"This man was armed. He tried to defend himself." Clearly to no avail. Judging by the marks on his face and the blood pooling at his abdomen, he had put up some fight against his assailant.
'This corpse has been dried of its blood, just like the previous victim.'
Turning back to the lamp, he noticed an empty gin bottle—clearly from the crate that was nowhere near full anymore—and a handwritten note tucked neatly underneath the base of the lamp to keep the wind from taking it.
"What’s this? Some sort of note?"
'30th October
From: G. McCullum
To: Docks Patrols
Object: Multiple deaths in the docks region. We believe a nasty leach is involved. Locate the beast. Purge it and quickly.
Warning: According to recent reports, this vampire is very violent. Approach with extreme caution, I know we lack men in this part of town, but dont send rookies to investigate the case. If i’m correct, we’ve got a frenzied one killing each night. As always search abandoned places first, like old houses, basements, sewers, or warehouses. Destroy the leech, brothers!'
"These men, they’re a company of professional Vampire Hunters?" And these were the same men chasing him? It felt almost ridiculous to say out loud.
Rising back to his feet, Jonathan took one last glance over the boat.
"Blood and empty gin bottles. This Bishop fellow is something of a heavy drinker." With that, he turned his attention back to the trail of splatters on the ground.
'There are blood splatters on the other side of the canal. I must reach that barge…'
And somehow he did. He wasn’t sure how, but it was as if he became weightless—he pretty much did. His corporeal form dissolved into a puff of dark smoke, and when he became whole again, he was on the other side.
The sound of a bottle being smashed somewhere in the distance rang out. The nose-crinkling smell of the water now behind him and the rain showing no signs of stopping were all normal things—but the blood splattered up a board that led him onto a platform was not.
The blood smeared a path towards an already open door to a warehouse, and he could sense more of those bastards who had hunted him earlier. Now he was alone, with no saviour to pop out of the darkness and rush him into an abandoned hidey-hole. But this time, he was ready. He was sure of it.
Creeping from around the corner, one of those Priwens men had his back turned, sniffing through a crate. The rusted machete was in his hand before he could think. He swung, landing a swift blow down the man's back.
Not initially lethal but enough for the man to stagger, and Jonathan took the chance to deliver the final blow.
'𝘒𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨.'
It really wasn't.
Deciding to see what the man was looting around for in the crate, Jonathan opened it again, inside were some shillings, some small pieces of scrap mental, and a pile of bullets—24 to be exact.
"Ammunitions crate. Good, I might need a lot of bullets. I feel like I'm back on the front line again." He chose not to dwell on how that last thought had choked him. He pocketed the lot.
Two more men stood watch outside the warehouse. One was a big fellow clutching a flamethrower—Jonathan remembered those from the trenches too; maybe that was why the man seemed so comfortable wielding it. The other was shorter and leaner, checking the bullets in his revolver before turning to his companion.
"Y'know I hope something happens soon. I'm dyin' of boredom out 'ere."
The other man let out an amused huff. "I like the shrieks when they burn." Holding his weapon up as he said it.
Having heard quite enough, and with the blood trail leading past them, Jonathan descended upon the pair. A "Fucking hell!" were the dignified last words of the bored man. A few more shillings and bullets found their way into Jonathan’s pockets.
"We won't see anymore of these bastards back 'ere again!"
And as always, there were more.
======
Sorry that I've took so long to update, and that this is dragging with William part out but I just wanted to put out a quick chapter for now while I work on the rest, since I've recently got back into Vampyr again. (Attempting to 100% it after putting off embracing people for so long 😅).
Hope it wasn't too bad anyhow!
Ao3: Hoodedboy79
