The Bloody Birds of Britain

Chapter 1 [Edited]

Freedom was not a welcome feeling. Hortense was over a millennium in age, she had been under the care of Valentin and the prospect of leaving him drove fear into her heart.

"Your English has improved greatly, the King has need for someone of your talents at the English court", were Valntin's parting words, she replayed the moment over and over in her head during the crossing to England. It was the only thing keeping her sane. The boat was filled with men, with no women with whom it would be socially acceptable to talk to, Hortense resigned herself to her cabin.

Her cabin was small and based at the bottom of the ship, so she could easily hear both the happy sailor songs of the crew and the sea lashing the ships sides. Within this small box, for it was really a box, with room only for a small bed and a chest of drawers nailed to the wall, she cried. Despite having been apart for less than a day, she ached for her makers company; for his sharp smile; for his praises and scolding’s; for him and everything he is.

This was her second time crossing the Channel from France. The last time she had been in the boats of Norman invaders. Valentin had impulsively attached them to the large army 'to see history being made'. The memory tore at her heart. How times had changed.

She pondered when the sun went down and the ship was quiet; apart from the odd squeaks of rats or snores from sailors; whether Valentin missed her at all. Did his heart ache as hers now did, was he too plagued with memories of happier times? She could not recall whether he had turned anyone else. If he had they'd never been mentioned. Perhaps he takes what he-

Suddenly quiet footsteps could be heard coming down the ship. Perhaps silent to a human but not to a vampire as old as she. She had her back to the door but did not turn around; she would wait for them to pass. It was, she presumed, a drunken sailor who had misread a smile or was simply looking for female attention. She hoped their courage would cease, so they'd go running back to their hammock, giggling like a maid. Hortense did not feel like killing tonight. But no, not this one, they were either too drunk or too stupid.

The person stopped outside her door, she could smell the sweat dribbling down the man's back, the sound of his heavy breathing, caused either by drink or fatness as his hand twiddled the door knob. She could hear the sound of the man's heart, increasing with every turn, it echoed around her thirst bucket like a dinner bell. She was hungry.

Finally the door opened, it was a chubby sailor who leeringly looked around her cabin for her. He noticed the form in her bed and eagerly clambered on top. Hortense watched as he thrusted, too drunk to realize 'she' was in fact pillows, which had been placed only moments before. She observed her would be rapist from the ceiling; she clung to the beams in the ceiling like a spider waiting to strike.

Hortense studied her fat fly with disinterest, his blood would taste fatty more than anything else, but she was hungry. Although, there were finer specimens aboard the ship that made her mouth water. No, she thought, they had not come looking for trouble so she would leave them alone, regrettably.

She pounced on the chubby drunk, causing him to scream like a little pig when she bit his neck and hungrily began to drink. She dug her hands into his fat flesh, into his body, through his ribcage and squeezed the man’s heart. His suffering was over but her feast had just begun!

The man's blood tasted like grease, as though it had been mixed with the fat left over from bacon and sausages. But she was hungry, so she carried on regardless, no matter how badly he tasted. She was like a starving child willing to eat the last piece of bread, despite it being covered in mold.

Hortense was so hungry that she had almost missed the sound of more footsteps. These footsteps belonged to two mouthwatering sailors, covered in muscle and the smell of the sea. She tore herself away to greet them. They were not scared and did not hesitate to come through the door. However they recoiled on noticing the bloated bloodied corpse of their fellow. The smalls daggers they had entered with, which they brandished like swords now fell to their sides in fear. They watched as she wiped the blood of their companion from her mouth.

One of the sailors regained their senses and ran at her with his dagger. Hortense side stepped him, grabbed his dagger and snapped it into small pieces with ease. The smell of fresh urine plagued the air, the less heroic sailor had wet himself. Hortense threw the dagger remains on top of the chubby sailor laughing.

"She's a witch!" Screamed the soiled soldier, pulling his companion from her grasp. The accusation made Hortense laugh harder, the sailors embraced each other and cowered in fear.

"I'm not a witch," she smiled, showing off her sharp bloodstained teeth and licking them with glee. "I am a vampire."