Havermouth, Present Time
Talen drove just out of town, deep into the forest that followed the contours of the hills, turning off the main roads onto dirt roads, and then from those to little winding tracks that were little more than two furrows carved into the undergrowth.
He stopped at a gate and let the Ute idling whilst he went to open it. Aislen could see at the top of a hill a modern house that overlooked the forest. The front windows were mirror glazed, reflecting back the sky.
“Where are we?” She asked Talen as he returned to the car. He left the gate open behind them, following the winding driveway, but turning away from where it rose up to the house.
“Vampire safe house,” he told her. “New house up there, but there’s also the old farmhouse down here, along with a couple of smaller cottages.”
They bounced along the track, and she imagined Chris Arrens being tossed around in the tray with malicious enjoyment. “What the f-k is an oubliette, daddy?”
“It is called the Forgotten Room, as that is it’s purpose,” Talen told her. “It is where you put people you wish to forget. Our friend’s stay will be temporary, however, just long enough for him to well and truly repent his sins. We have a… hmm, collection agency,” he slid a look at her from the corner of his eye. “They clean up things we don’t want to reappear. They will find a use for our friend. One which will keep him from causing further trouble.”
“I don’t think I want to know what type of use,” she worried her bottom lip with her teeth. “Do I?”
“Not particularly,” he agreed.
They passed a couple of cottages hidden amongst the trees, and she saw a woman in a white dress pause and look over at them. “Did you see…?” She asked Talen.
“There are permanent residents of some of the cottages,” he told her. “You do not need to fear them.”
She felt a shiver of cold pass over her skin. “I don’t need to fear them, but they are fearsome?” She clarified.
“Vampires,” he said very carefully. “Can sometimes loose connection to the world. When we become very old we can find that the changes of the human race move too fast for us, or perhaps, we lose the ability to understand modernity. With some, they become confused between what is past and what is present.”
“A vampiric Alzheimer’s?” She wondered.
“Something like that. When a vampire is no longer able to function independently in the world, there are a range of safe houses made available to them. There are permanent caretakers of the safe houses whose duties also include caring for the vampires that retire there,” he slowed down as they went over a cattle grate. “It is safest for all.”
The trees opened up around a large, square farmhouse wrapped with a wide veranda. He went past the house to where there was an old, stacked stone barn topped with a new galvanized iron roof, and parked there. “Here we are.”
It was colder in the tree smothered hills, and Aislen shivered as she stepped out of the car. She scuffed up gravel as she followed the car to the tray of Ute where Talen lifted a limp Chris Arren free.
Talen yanked down the gag.
“Please,” Chris wet his lips. “I need to go to the hospital.”
Talen raised his eyebrows. “You tried to rape the woman that I love,” he replied. “You are lucky that all you have is a broken nose and a few bumps and bruises. I am going to cut your hands free. You should know that trying to run would be very unwise. There are predators in these trees that will not hesitate to devour you.”
“What are you going to do to me?” Chris said as Talen took his pocketknife out and cut through the zip ties. Chris cried out, a pathetic whimper of a sound, as he brought his arms forward. “I can’t feel my hands.”
“Perhaps feeling will return in time,” Talen shrugged, indifferent. “Walk this way,” he gave Chris a shove towards the barn.
The human man took two steps, and then bolted off to the left, running for his life, sucking in air and stumbling as he looked over his shoulder.
Talen raised his eyebrows at Aislen. “I told him not to run.”
“That you did, daddy,” she confirmed.
He sighed and in a blur of inhuman movement, went after him. Chris Arren’s screams were wild with fear as Talen picked him up by the throat. Aislen’s heart raced watching as her vampire effortlessly lifted the man until Chris’s toes kicked aimlessly several inches off the ground, his hands grasping Talen’s wrist, trying to relieve the hold on his neck.
“I am the least of your problems should you try to flee, human,” Talen’s eyes flashed red, and his lip lifted revealing his sharp canine and pre-molar teeth. “You can die now or die later. Make your choice.”
“Later,” Chris rasped out.
“I will put you down and you will walk where I tell you to go. If you run again, I will not be the one to chase you. Your death will be imminent, but not immediate, should you do so. They will not have mercy, and they will play with your blood as you drown in it.”
Aislen shivered, feeling unseen eyes on her, flicking her gaze at the trees and buildings around them. She had a sense of others drawing closer, of anticipation and eagerness. Bored, ancient vampires, come to witness a new diversion.
As Talen prodded Chris Arrens over to the barn, she stuck to his side. “How tasty am I daddy?” She murmured under her breath as they stepped into the shadows of the barn. “Because I’m feeling like a walking entrée at the moment.”
He touched the collar around her throat. “You are mine, and therefore you are safe.”
She swallowed hard and nodded. “So… Do these old ones sometimes, like, wander off?” She had a suspicion that they did, and that the occasional person who went missing from around the local towns might have encountered a vampire retiree looking for a snack.
“They are not prisoners here,” he confirmed her suspicion. “But the care takers ensure that their every need is met in order to make wandering off less desirable.”
They passed between tractors, old cars, and a horse-drawn carriage, to the back corner of the barn. There were four massive stone circles on the ground. Talen bent over and pushed one, single handed and with impossible strength, to the side. “Ah,” he said, with a faint tone of surprise. “Occupied." He pushed the lid back into place quickly.
Aislen shuddered. “You… ah, vampires I mean, frequently put people down here?”
Chris suddenly realized their intention and took off. Talen caught him by the back of his shirt, twisting the fabric to create a throttlehold on Chris’ throat. “On occasion,” he replied. “It seems that there are times when there is more need than others, and that we are currently in such a time.”
He used his foot to push back another stone lid. “Vacant,” he said with a smile, and used his grip on Chris’ shirt to lift him up and lower him in, indifferent to the man’s shrieks and pleas.
Aislen looked down at Chris’ pale, upturned face, as he scrabbled against the stone walls of the underground cell, trying to climb towards freedom, and found that she did not have a single ounce of compassion for him. “You deserve this,” she told him.
Talen pushed the lid over, cutting off Chris’ scream.
“Heath says that Triquetras happen when there is trouble,” she said to Talen as he straightened. “Though he thinks that I am the trouble.”
“Hmm,” Talen chuckled at that, shaking his head in amusement. “He does not truly believe that. Heath is a man who cares very deeply about those who are important to him, but he does not know how to express that caring in positive ways. As a result, he shows his caring by trying to control what he sees to be dangerous to them. Add in an unhealthy dose of misogyny that is common amongst werewolves and his way of saying I love you to you is very convoluted.”
He put his arm around her and leaned his face into her hair. “I have been alive long enough to recognize the signs of encroaching trouble,” he said to her. “The werewolves are not wrong that we are heading into such a time.”
“What sort of signs, daddy?” She felt as if something crawled over her skin and shivered, pressing tighter to him, taking comfort from his size and strength, from his hard, warm body.
“An… unsettlement in the world,” he replied. “Not just in the people, but in the fabric of the world itself. An increase in natural disasters, the movement of earth, a change in the tides, an increase in rainfall in some areas, and drought in others. Plagues of disease, animal and insect life. Economic crisis and war due to the greed of a minority hoarding more than they can use and starving the many in a world where there is no shortage of food…” He sighed with heavy weariness. “It is a cycle that has been repeated many, many times before.”
“What do we do?” She was alarmed by the matter-of-fact tone of his voice. This wasn’t some distant possibility that he was referring to, but a present reality.
“Keep those that you love safe, and wait it out,” he told her. “Do not be afraid, little demon,” he lifted her suddenly, setting her onto the seat of the horse-drawn carriage so that she faced him, and framed her face with his hands, his eyes gentle, before he stroked down her cheek and throat, straightening the collar on her neck.
“I am yours,” she predicted what he would say. “And therefore, I am safe.”
He smiled, and the expression shifted in his eyes, heating with sensuality. “Yes.”
Havermouth, Present Time Talen and Aislen were quickly called to a stop as they approached the busy area directly in front of the town hall. The police and the firies were packing up, she noticed, frowning, and none of them looked happy about it. “We are encouraging civilians to stay in their residences and off the streets,” a stern voiced soldier told Aislen and Talen disapprovingly. “There are many hazards left after the storm, and our men need free access to clear the roads of debris and make repairs.” Aislen swallowed back the words that she wanted to say, and instead smiled sweetly. “We’re from Boyston’s coffee shop,” she lied showing him the box that she held. “Making a delivery. Cakes and slices that are going stale, to help fuel the forces here. They’re free,” she added with a bright smile. “See, that’s our coffee van, over there,” she nodded with her chin. “Oh,” he was non-plussed, looking over his shoulder at the van, and then back at the box that she held. “Let me look,”
Havermouth, Two Years Before“Aislen Carter graduated from Rideten School of Art with honors on the eleventh of the month, and vacated her school accommodation four days later,” the PI’s report stated blandly the words that sent icy shards of fear and horror through Heath’s soul.“Her vehicle was placed for sale at North Rideten Car Sales one week prior and sold on the fifteenth with deposits made into bank accounts that were, in turn, closed on the twentieth. We have seen this sort of behavior before, in victims of domestic violence, where the subject is escaping an abusive spouse through the help of an organization. It is our companies ethical position not to pursue such cases further.”“Sure,” Heath snarled at the email. “But you f-king charged me the full price.”He was tempted to throw the laptop against the wall in his frustration, but he gripped the table edge instead and blew out his breath, controlling the anger, turning the heat to ice, and focusing on the house around him t
Havermouth, Two Years Before The Rideten night club was overflowing with patrons, and Heath had to fight for the standing table where he could look out across the dance floor and keep an eye on Rhett, who was having a fantastic time with his co-workers celebrating the end of his apprenticeship and the purchase of his own shop in Havermouth. It was the happiest that Heath had seen him in a long time, and that thought pained him, but did not surprise him. The Triquetra pretended well, most of the time, however the waiting was slowly tearing them apart. They were spending less time together at the river house, and it often felt more like they were house mates than mates, as they rarely even shared a meal let alone a bed. Cameron was spending more and more time on the land now that he had graduated university, Rhett had thrown himself into getting as much experience as he could before starting his own shop, and Heath was working part time at the law firm he had purchased in Havermouth i
Havermouth, Five Years BeforeThe little Redbank tattoo parlour that had agreed to take him as an apprentice had many things that Rhett liked, and many that he didn’t. The shop was tiny, with a staircase to the second level which was so steep that it kicked in Rhett’s phobia about heights, and, whilst the workstations were brightly lit for the purpose of the artists, everywhere else was shadowy and pokey. The little kitchen could only fit one person at a time, and the toilet was so narrow that cleaning it (which was one of Rhett’s duties as an apprentice) was a bit like performing yoga in a box.Mostly he divided his time between manning the reception desk, doing clean-up of the workstations, and making drinks for the artists and customers, but on the slow days, the artists would take turns working with his sketches, and he would sit with his pants around his ankles on one of the chairs and practise on himself, upside down.If he produced a decent piece, one of the other artists, Matt
Havermouth, Five Years BeforeHeath left the final class of the year feeling as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Just the exams left to do, and high school would be a thing of the past. He paused for a moment, his eyes adjusting from the artificial light of the classroom and his body to movement after two intense hours of mental activity as the teacher had taken the opportunity to run them through a practice exam.Cameron’s bright hair caught the sunlight over the heads of other students moving out into freedom. “Hey!” Cameron grinned as he headed over. “It’s done! We are free!”“Until exams,” Heath corrected. “And, then the pre-reading for university.”“Ugh,” Cameron’s groan of disgust was throaty. “Let me have at least today to enjoy the end of classes without filling my head up with more useless knowledge.”Heath slung his arm around Cameron’s shoulders. “Will you miss school?”“Nope,” Cameron leaned into Heath. “You?”“Nope,” Heath agreed. He gave Cameron’s shoulders
Havermouth, Five Years BeforeCameron’s dreams were filled with chasing Aislen through the fields. He could see her just ahead of him, her dark hair bouncing with the motion of her run, the weeds catching on the skirt of her dress and dragging long scratches along her legs that she didn’t seem to notice. “Aislen!” He cried out. “Slow down!”He woke with a start to the echoes of his own voice. It wasn’t yet midnight and he was alone in bed. He pressed his face into the pillows, breathing in, seeking the scent of Rhett and Heath from the fabric, but it had been too long since they’d slept there, and the scent had faded beneath his own.He couldn’t remember ever having fought with either of them. It left him feeling off-balance, and unwell. He’d thrown himself into working the farm with his dad, trying to distract himself from the anguish of it. Jules hadn’t questioned why Cameron wasn’t going to school, studying, or spending time with the other two members of the Triquetra, although Cam