The Innocent Life of Valerie Vale

Dead on Impact

Dead on Impact

Two hours earlier… suddenly Jack’s nose caught the distant scent of something irresistible. It was faint but his senses were finely tuned. He relied on them and they made him what he was, a survivor. It was the smell of blood so divine. Its very essence compelled a vampire to action. It was the elixir of life and a treasure to devour but Jack knew better. He was experienced and he knew behind its shimmering veil of deceit and subterfuge was something most sinister. The smell... was Crimson Scent.

Lanton was a battleground. The wolf controlled the west side and his men despised vampires just as much, if not more than the Italian’s to the north, the Chinese to the east and the Mexicans to the south. Gangs co-existed in a careful balance of violence and respect but vampires were dispersed throughout the city, isolated in pockets and hidden in darkness.

Alex was the strongest in the west and he used this power to protect those who aligned themselves to his house. He too was supported by the Lord of Lanton, a vampire who had risen to the top and was now tasked by the greater powers to keep order over the city. Those who chose to go it alone were left to fend for themselves. The wolf brutalised and murdered as many as he could and in the past had battled Alex himself. It was difficult to survive on the west side, especially for loners like Jack, but he could always look after himself.

Jack raced through the streets in a silent dash as his shadow followed behind and beyond like a vigilant ghost. It watched from upon the stony walls and against the broken path. It watched as he tore down the narrow ally, an attentive and emotionless act. Shadow and darkness brought to life by flickering light, bearing witness to terrible truths and sinful deeds at night.

Nico was a fool to be distracted by his kill and if Jack’s instincts were right, someone was in real trouble. Vampire slayers were a rare breed. In the past it had been a highly regarded profession, a calling to those with a strong faith in god and a fearless attitude to demonic forces. Now vampires were smaller in number and people didn’t care, but slayers were still well trained, a lethal force of crusaders, hell bent on genocide. The best... used Crimson Scent.

Jack paused at the end of an alley that looked out upon a small car park. He waited patiently in the shadows as the smell grew stronger. It filled his lungs and he craved for blood. Then he heard a voice. It was the voice of a young woman who spoke in a warm and beautiful tone. There was a reply. It was a man and then... the brutal sound of flesh meeting flesh and an intense scream of pain.

Jack peered around the corner and caught sight of the woman he had seen earlier that night. Alex’s sources were right as usual, she was the girl they were looking for. The poor thing was already on the ground, being violently beaten by a ruthless soul. He was a slayer. Jack knew it... he could tell. He watched as the car’s window rolled down. He watched as the blond man kissed his lover and he noticed the wooden stake held firmly in his hand. The girl was bleeding against the pavement below, she looked completely disorientated. She was helpless and lost and lay close to Satan’s eternal grasp.

In that moment Jack felt something explode from within. It was a feeling he had almost forgotten, a cocktail of chemicals that rushed through his body and compelled him to act. This girl, whoever she was, affected him dearly. He couldn’t bear to watch her being beaten or to see her suffering alone. Her presence awoke him and for the first time in many years he became a man with purpose... a man of action.

Jack gripped the handle of his revolver, a Smith & Wesson Magnum 500. He pointed it as his target and without a moment’s pause he shot off the first round. The bullet ripped through the air in a thunderous boom and blew through the slayer’s head in a merciless act of precise execution. The man was dead on impact. His blood and flesh and broken skull were plastered across the path as his legs gave way to gravity. The corpse lay lifeless, creating a harrowing piece of street art which as Jack reflected, echoed the violence of our modern time. In his eyes it was repulsive and yet beautiful.

Suddenly the man within the car let out a scream of rage and pain. His eyes were red with fury as he gazed down at the body of his lover. His heart cracked as its essence became instantly deformed, warped in horror and agony. He cried aloud and cursed the night and the sky and all that lived and died. Jack knew exactly how he felt and for a moment almost felt sorry for him but the man refused to take cover.

He opened the door as Valerie’s body lay unconscious before him, bloodied and beaten. His soul was consumed by vengeance and retaliation and he meant to finish what his lover had started. Jack shot off another round, shattering the window into a thousand tiny pieces of jagged glass. The wheels of the car screeched desperately as the unseen driver attempted escape. The car swerved around the corner as the door swung open and then, as if it had never been there, it disappeared from sight.

Jack stuck the smoking gun back into his belt and approached the crime scene with care. He looked down at Valerie’s body which lay unconscious, resting beneath the lifeless corpse. There was a silver lighter on the ground. Jack picked it up and pocketed it... the spoils of war. Then he pushed the slayer’s dirty body to one side and tasted the blood that stained his hands. It disgusted him. The slayer was a cocaine user.

Valerie’s face was covered in her own blood. She had been badly beaten but Jack could sense strength inside her. Looking past her wounds, he saw the body of a fair and gentle girl. His heart beat faster as he looked upon her and for a moment time seemed to slow as Jack experienced a whirlwind of emotions, culminating in two that caused conflict from within.

He felt a burning sense of compassion for this girl. She was lost and alone and he felt compelled to save her but amidst this compassion was an overriding guilt. What would Sarah say if she saw him now? How would she react to his compassion, to his betrayal of her devotion? Jack was torn by love, lost and new.

‘The face of a woman, covered in her own blood... damn that’s sexy!’ laughed Nico as he appeared from nowhere. ‘There’s a quality to it, a... je ne sais quoi?’ Jack stood up and watched as Nico, Liebgott and Hannibal approached him slowly. Nico played with his switchblade, Liebgott was still licking blood off his lips from their kill and Hannibal looked on with his beady eyes in an obedient silence. ‘That’s the girl,’ confirmed Nico as he glanced down at Valerie’s fragile body, ‘and we’re taking her now so get the fuck out of our way.'

Jack drew his gun defiantly and pressed it against Nico’s chest. A bullet through the heart could kill him and he was stunned and shocked into a verbal retreat. ‘Easy there mon ami,’ Nico negotiated, ‘Alex sent me to find her, I’m not going to harm her.'

‘That’s right, you’re not,’ replied Jack with an intense glare. ‘I’m taking her back, and you can tell Alex whatever you want, but I’ll be damned if I trust her with you or your ratty friends.’ Nico looked around and raised his hands in submission, as if to instruct the others to refrain from attacking Jack. They knew better anyway, for if they tried, he’d kill them in an instant and without remorse.

‘D’accord... we’ll do it your way Jack,’ agreed Nico bitterly in defeat. Jack lowered his gun and returned it to its place against his belt. Then he picked up Valerie’s body and held her gently in his arms. ‘You’re safe,’ he said softly as the sound of sirens broke through the silence of the night, ‘no one will harm you now.’ The sirens grew louder as squad cars slowly responded to local cries for help, but by the time they arrived the vampires were gone.

  

Two hours later... ‘Do you look like someone I could be bothered talking to?’ asked Valerie ignorantly. ‘Go fuck yourself princess,’ replied Jack as Valerie continued along her way. He shook his head in disapproval and sat back down as he took out a cigarette. In his hand he held a lighter... a solid and heavy silver piece that bore the design of a striking heart, etched delicately on one side. The lighter was his now. The slayer was dead.

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