Bitemarks 1.8

Bitemarks 1.8

It was dark by the time Ed finally found the address. He was so deep into rural France he didn't even know which region it was anymore. Even Google maps had tried to convince him the address didn't exist. In the end he had to rely on a handful of scribbled notes from Alf and the rental car waiting at the airport to get him to his destination. And so here he was, parked up on a windy country road that led through forested mountains, facing a dark wooden gate. He looked up, his eyes following the wooden staircase that led up to the house. He climbed out of the car and tucked his gun, for all the good it would do, into the waistband of his jeans. He smoothed his t-shirt back over it but it did little to hide the bulge so he fastened the bottom three buttons on his leather trenchcoat. He didn't intend to kill Beauclair and knew he probably couldn't if he did want to but it made him feel more secure. He steeled himself, pushed the gate open and started climbing the staircase. It terminated in decking at the top that ran along the wall of the house and a large wooden door. Ed took a deep breath then rapped loudly upon it. He waited, counting towards sixty in his head. When he reached the minute mark he raised his fist to knock again but the door swung open before he could. Ed wasn't going to let himself be unnerved and stepped through, pushing the door closed behind him before it could slam shut of its own accord. There was no one inside but the lights were on, although rather dim for his liking. There were doors to his left and right but they were closed and so Ed wandered down the hallway a little further. He passed two more doors and then the hall opened out into a staircase not unlike his father's place. He heard a sound to his left and turned to see an old man hobbling towards him, a cane held firmly in his left hand. Ed sized him up. He was just over six feet tall though slightly hunched and his long hair was grey. No, not grey, silver, like an ageing Hollywood actor. He smiled at Ed with a mouthful of yellowed yet sharp teeth. He flexed his fingers wrapped around the cane's handle, giving Ed a good glimpse of his jet black pointed fingernails. Impeccably manicured and impeccably tailored too in a crisp purple suit with white shirt. It hung open at the neck, no tie. He pulled his right hand from his pocket to reveal a black electronic device.
"Remote control for... the door." he explained, "Just... a parlour trick really."
He pressed it and the door opened then closed again behind Ed. Ed shrugged.
"Can't say I'm surprised." he said, noting that Beauclair had spoken in English, albeit with a mild French accent. "I take it Alf told you I was coming."
Beauclair nodded.
"And from your English accent... and mention of him I deduce... that I find myself in the presence... of Ed Baxter."
He had a peculiar way of talking, pausing at certain moments like somebody doing a caricatured William Shatner impersonation.
"And you're Jean Beauclair. Which completes the pleasantries."
"Quite..." A lengthier pause, "But we need not... talk in the corridor like scullerymaids... come... I have the... fire in the drawing room."
He turned and hobbled off and Ed followed him.

Beauclair led him into a large drawing room. Sure enough a fire burnt away in a large hearth. There were three quilted comfortable looking chairs arranged in a semi-circle around the fireplace and a sturdy semi-circular table separating them from the flames. Atop the table were two brandy glasses containing what Ed could only presume to be brandy, and a large ashtray that looked to be ivory. Two fat cigars sat alongside it. Beauclair made his way to the furthest chair and lowered himself into it. Ed followed his lead and sat down. Beauclair raised one of the brandy glasses and took a slug, sighing.
"Try the brandy." he offered, "I assure you it is... not poisoned or tainted. In fact, it's... older than you are."
Ed was cautious but he raised the brandy glass and took a sniff. It smelled of nothing other than alcohol and he took a mouthful, feeling it burn its way down his throat. Beauclair pulled a silver cigar cutter from his pocket and snipped the end off one of the cigars and offered it to Ed. Ed lit the cigar with his zippo and then offered the flame to Beauclair.
"So... you have come a long way to... see me. Alf was a little... vague about your reasons."
Ed flicked ash from the fat cigar.
"You seem a smart man Beauclair. Why don't you tell me what you... deduce?"
He laughed at that and tapped a pointed fingernail upon the desk.
"Yes... very well. You have become aware of me... yes?" he looked to Ed for confirmation but he was giving nothing away. "And you were the man sent to check... on Dr Keibler and his team... tell me. What of Dr Keibler?"
Ed leaned back and stretched his arms a little.
"Ok Beauclair. Let's cut through the crap. I know you bought your way out of the cull. I know that you're a vampire."
"Yes, the... last of my kind."
"There you're wrong."
"Oh?"
"Dr Keibler and his team are dead, Beauclair. All of them. Killed by one, possibly more, vampires."
Beauclair seemed genuinely surprised at this.
"And what led you to this... conclusion?"
"They were fed upon." Ed replied, "All ten of them."
This time Beauclair actually seemed shocked.
"But that's ridiculous. Even... at my height I... never fed off ten men in a day."
"Well then it's a remarkable fucking coincidence isn't it?" asked Ed, not even trying to conceal the sarcasm. "One solitary vampire survives the cull. Then all these years later he sends an archaeologist to the remote north where suddenly they are attacked by another vampire. One which feels the need to feed on all ten of them. Feel free to fill in the holes here."
"I..."
"You can start with why you sent Dr Keibler and his team to their deaths."
"I had no idea Ed... They were searching for... well..."
"What? What did they find?"
Beauclair sighed.
"This will be easier if I show you a little something."
He rose to his feet, leaving the cane behind.
"Come with... me Ed. Perhaps I... can she some light upon this."