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Part 1. The street-lamp was still burning, but the chilly, morning fog rendered its glow ineffective, and it barely illuminated the dark figure standing beneath it. The only sound was his feet stamping in response to the chilling effect of the morning frost that glittered on the icy ground. Fog-reduced visibility meant that a passer-by would only have been aware that the waiting man was tall, slim and elegantly dressed. Not that there were any passers-by at this time of day. Suddenly, from the shadows behind Edward, a figure emerged. "Why are you always late?" demanded Edward, "Come on Jackson, there's work to be done!" Jackson looked about uneasily. "I'm sorry it couldn't be 'elped," he muttered. Edward's sapphire eyes issued a warning that made Jackson shiver more than the chilly, morning air. "Things can always be helped," he told Jackson, his clear voice annunciating each word, emphasising the huge gulf between the two men. He turned and started to walk through the gates of the local cemetery. The combination of tombstones, fog and cold stone angels did not ease Jackson's discomfort. Whereas his companion, who Jackson struggled to keep up with, seemed immune to his environment, Edward had a purpose, a purpose which he kept at the forefront of his mind and which overshadowed any fears or doubts that might have emerged in a lesser man. Beyond the seemingly endless rows of graves were small stone buildings, the mausoleums of the rich, not for them the cold, hard, earth exposed to the elements. Even in death the rich could afford to keep themselves apart from their fellow, less fortunate, man. Edward stopped at the door of a miniature, Greek temple. He held up the padlock. "Okay Jackson do your worst!" he invited with a flicker of a smile. Jackson pulled a piece of wire out of his pocket and took the lock in his hand. He opened it as easily as if the wire had been the lock's original wrought iron key. They entered the tomb together. Edward opened his bag. Jackson hated this part. "Come on," urged Edward, "We haven't got all day!" The thought crossed Jackson's mind that that was exactly what they did have! But he proceeded to help lift the lid of the tomb, his stomach churning with dread. Inside the coffin the young man looked more asleep than dead, a sleeping beauty thought Jackson as he looked at the soft, curly, blonde hair surrounding the white, perfect face, except it wasn't quite perfect. There was blood around the mouth, deep red, arterial blood still in it's liquid state. "Ready!" Jackson moved away from the corpse as the mallet struck the wooden stake that entered the vampire's heart. A blood-curling scream filled the air and the corpse seemed to violently shudder. Now it lay still, and as Jackson looked at its face again he noted that the youth's beauty had gained an angelic quality. However the sword welded by his companion destroyed the effect as it severed the head from the body. Edward smiled. "Peace at last" he told the youth, then he bent down and kissed the victim's forehead, "Goodnight sweet Prince," he whispered. "Your brother was a handsome boy, Sir," murmured Jackson. "Yes he was," agreed Edward, "Now to get the bastard who gave him that fatal kiss." |