The Runaway: The Alphas Novella Collection

  THE ALPHAS

  THE RUNAWAY: NOVELLA COLLECTION

  KIERAN GRAYSON

  CONTENTS

  LEON’S STORY – BLOOD AND SNOW

  DELILAH’S STORY – KILLER INSTINCT

  THOM’S STORY – AN ORDINARY HEART

  AZUREL’S STORY – YEAR ZERO

  XAVIER’S STORY – THE GREY ANGEL

  FRASER’S STORY – PART ONE: BIRTH

  FRASER’S STORY – PART TWO: LIFE

  DEVON’S STORY – INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE

  FRASER’S STORY – PART THREE: DEATH

  LEON’S STORY - BLOOD AND SNOW – NEW YORK CITY, USA, 1927

  I lowered my head as a portly gentleman and his flapper girl passed me, shadowing my forever youthful face from curious eyes. Their attention elsewhere as they exited the establishment, arm-in-arm, opening the door and letting in a gust of cold, New York air. I caught a glimpse of swirling, heavy snow and a bleak, dark night. Sighing softly, I went back to my beverage and waited.

  And it wasn't long that I had to wait. Clicking heels approached and a tumbler glass with the remains of a sweet-smelling liquid in it was placed quietly upon the stained wood. I looked up and an exquisitely beautiful lady looked down at me.

  Her slender legs made her appear to tower over everyone around us, accentuated by the glittering flapper dress she was wearing. Her little Cupid’s bow mouth was pulled into an all-knowing smirk and her hair was short, black and neatly cut into a fringed bob.

  I stood and took her hand, bending to kiss it softly, “Delilah, always a pleasure.”

  “Leon” she purred, “Much better greeting than the one I got from Thomas.”

  “I’ve always told you never to expect much from me” replied Thomas, appearing beside her. He was a head taller than me, brown hair slicked back, a large Roman nose and a strong jaw that was peppered with stubble. He wore a brown suit and a neck scarf that was white and green checks. His high cheekbones accentuated the shadows on his face.

  “I hadn’t realised you had arrived yet” I told him as he and Delilah sat at my table.

  “I arrived two days ago” he said briskly. He gave a shiver, “Even I feel the chill in my old bones in New York.”

  “Yes, well, hopefully, we shouldn’t be here too long” I told him and cradled my glass in my hands to give myself something to do with my hands.

  Delilah removed a cigarette from her purse and lit it. She took a gentle drag and then blew out smoke, which danced in tendrils from her painted lips. “Speaking of why we’re all here…” she trailed off as Thomas looked around to make sure we weren’t going to be overheard. When he turned back to us with a nod, we all moved in closer to one another.

  “Jesus, woman, put that out, will you?” hissed Thomas as the smoke from Delilah’s cigarette blew in his face.

  She glared at him, “The last time we met, you were chewing tobacco.”

  “I gave it up” he told her, pinching the end of her cigarette, making the fire in it die. He plucked it from her fingers as her eyes narrowed and he placed it in a glass cigarette tray on our table. “Continue” he told me.

  “I only arrived in New York this evening” I told them, “I picked up the paper.” I pulled today’s paper from behind me and smoothed out the front page, “Another murder. This article notes the puncture marks in her neck” I said, running my finger across the appropriate lines in the article. “People are becoming suspicious.”

  “I’m not quite sure what you want us to do about it?” said Thomas as Delilah nodded in agreement. “The work of a vampire that needs to be stopped. Isn’t that the responsibility of New York’s Master?”

  “This is the work of New York’s Master” I told them.

  “Philippe?” asked Delilah. I nodded and she brushed her elegant fingers across her hair, moving it behind her ear. “But you’re one of the First. What do you need us for?”

  This was where I had hesitated. I had known Delilah was enjoying her life in New York, she was the first one to tell me in a letter what was happening. But I had located Thomas hiding in Greece and forced him to meet us in New York to help me out. But I had withheld what exactly it was I needed help with.

  “Leon?” Thomas’s voice was low, “What have you dragged me to this concrete wasteland for?”

  “I’ve been in contact with Philippe. All of us have. But he seems to think the time to reveal ourselves is now…” I trailed off, expecting them to ask questions but they both wore matching, growing looks of disdain. “I cannot take him down alone. You two are my oldest, dearest friends. I asked you here for your assistance.”

  There was a hovering silence as Delilah’s face froze in disdain but Thomas’s grew angrier. He slowly leant forward, “The penalty for killing a Master is death. We may be old friends, but if you expect me to put my existence on the line to give you a hand, you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

  His thick, Cockney accent seemed so out of place in a city like New York, but in the dark, smokey bar, it seemed to take me back to menacing times in London before I gave my executioner his freedom. “Thomas, I’m not asking you to put your existence at risk. I am one of the First. We all held council and agreed Philippe was a danger to our kind, and many others we’ve made pacts with to protect their secrecy.”

  “Why you?” asked Delilah.

  I sighed, “The Firsts choose to remain in hiding, making them weaker. I am the only one who enjoys the freedom of the outdoors. I refuse to hide away in a castle and wait for my prey like a spider. I’m the strongest. If he refuses to listen, I take his head.”

  “Are we protected?” she asked me.

  “Yes. You have my word. And pray tell me if there has ever been a time where I have gone against my word to you both?” They both exchanged a long look before turning back to me. Delilah nodded and Thomas muttered that he was in. I smiled softly, “Thank you.”

  “What’s your plan then, Grand Maestro?” asked Thomas.

  “We visit him at his residence and attempt to discuss why he needs to keep a lower profile. If he refuses…”

  “We take his head. Got it.” finished Thomas.

  “Shall we?” I asked, getting up from my seat.

  They both followed me, Thom slipping off his jacket and placing it around Delilah’s shoulders. “You can be a gentleman, sometimes” she told him.

  “I wouldn’t get used to it” he told her softly.

  ***

  When we arrived at Philippe’s bar, the streets were dark, the wind howling down the streets and alleyways, snow swirling and lying thickly on the concrete. We forced breathing, should we pass humans in the streets and our breath was nowhere to be seen. Opaque clouds appeared and disappeared before our eyes as we watched the barman lock up and leave for the night.

  I made the first steps towards the bar, Delilah hugging herself and Thomas looking around suspiciously behind me. I raised my fist, banged on the door three times. I heard scuffled movements and then silence. I tilted my head and Thomas took my place before the door, raised his foot and kicked the door from the hole.

  He stepped in through the cloud of dust into the bar and I followed him, Delilah at my heels. “Philippe, there’s no use trying to hide” I told him, brushing the dust from my jacket. “You’ve broken rules and committed crimes. I’m only here to talk.”

  “You promise?” asked a thick, French accent.

  Thomas raised an eyebrow and Delilah smirked. “Yes, I promise,” I told the darkness. “Will you come out so we can talk?”

  “If you’re just here to talk, why did you bring The Executioner with you?” asked the darkness.

  “Bodyguards” ans
wered Thomas, “In case you tried anything funny.”

  There was shuffling and a vampire appeared out of the darkness. He was thin, wearing a loose white shirt and grey slacks. He had a thin, wiry mustache and dark, slicked hair. He was holding his hands up in surrender.

  “Have you got anywhere warmer we can sit in?” I asked.

  “Sorry about the door” said Thomas, “But if you’d answered, you’d still have a door.”

  “Come with me” said Philippe, gesturing down the bottom of the dingy bar. We followed him and he took us into a tiny room with wooden tables and chairs and a burning fire. “Can I get any of you a drink?”

  “No, thank you” I told him, holding up my hand to halt Delilah and Thomas’s requests. I didn’t trust Philippe and I’d be damned if I was going to let him poison or intoxicate my friends. I’d brought them here, the least I could do was protect them.

  He gestured at us to sit and we did. He poured himself a tall glass of amber liquid and then joined us. I placed the newspaper on the table and smoothed it out, “The Firsts would like you to explain” I told him.

  “Over the recent years, humans have become less afraid of us. They see us as entertainment fodder. We should be putting them in their place.”

  “Should we?” I asked him. “Remember that we were all human once” I told him. “We’ve survived this long undetected. Safe. Putting us in the public eye puts us in immediate danger. Do you not remember what it was like when Vampire Hunters were around every corner? Or when werewolves were massacred by the hundreds, their bodies paraded in carts in every town? Or when witches were burnt at the stakes?”

  His eyes flickered to Thomas, “I remember the werewolf massacres” he said softly. Thomas’s face was shadowed by the fire. Flames flickered, giving him an enviable face that would strike fear into the hearts of the toughest men. He turned back to me, “I remember it all.”

  “Then why would you want to put us all through that again?” I asked, “If I recall, you lost your Family during those times.”

  “I want revenge” he replied in a low tone.

  “This isn’t the way to go about it” I told him. “All those Hunters who killed your Family are long-dead.”

  “I miss being feared” he told me, “I miss being a legend, a nightmare whispered to children to keep them in line. I miss the days when we ruled. Now? I’m fodder for the masses. I’m a scary story for chills and to make men laugh and scare their women. Men were once afraid of me.”

  “And you think murdering people in the streets in the cover of darkness, with no witnesses is the way to do that?” asked Thomas. “You are written as a psychopath, not a vampire. How’s that for the fruits of your labour?”

  Philippe glared at him, “I’m beginning a legend, a trail of fear. Soon enough, when enough people are afraid, I’ll reveal my identity.”

  There was a thick silence, broken only by the crackling of the fire. Delilah twitched beside me, her eyes found the door and she pursed her lips. I frowned as she turned to Philippe, “Do you have a restroom I could use to freshen up?”

  He looked at her awkwardly and then looked at me. I nodded and he gave her directions to a bathroom down the hall. She got up and excused herself and I listened to her heels click down the hallway before I turned back to Philippe. “Unfortunately, I can’t let you reveal your identity.”

  “Why not?” he asked, his stance tensed and his face and tone became angry. Thomas came from his slump and sat up straight. “I’m saving us!”

  “You’re sending our species into an early grave” I told him. “There are many out there, Firsts included, that are calling for your execution” my voice began to rise and became forceful, “You are not scaring the humans, you are scaring your own kind!”

  “They have no idea-“ he began but I cut him off.

  “No, you have no idea!” I roared, banging my fists on the table and getting to my feet. I wasn’t very tall and my face was youthful. What I lacked in menacing appearance, I made up for in power, age and respect, “Times have changed! Humanity has changed! We ruled for so long because humanity had no idea how to deal with us. Once they managed it, there was bloodshed, we lost Family, wolves lost Pack, witches lost Covens. Today, they have Government forces, technology, they have evolved and will clear us out in no time.”

  He stared up at me and I was almost convinced that I had changed his mind until he thrust a silver-plated stake into my shoulder. I fell back onto the hard floor as Thomas vaulted over the table and landed on an escaping Philippe. There was a lot of hissing and sounds of flesh hitting and ripping into flesh.

  I pulled myself out and grabbed the stake. I pulled it from my shoulder and threw it across the room. There was a cool burning sensation as the wound began to close up and I got to my feet. Thomas had Philippe on his knees, his arms broken and behind his back. I took slow steps towards him and he began to quiver in Thomas’s grip.

  I stroked a single finger down his face, “Trying to murder a First is a Class One offence” I told him softly, “Breaking our laws as heavily as you have is also Class One.” He whimpered as my hands cradled his face “You pay for it with your head.”

  He began to scream, which I cut off quickly by pulling as hard as I could. There was a wet ripping sound as the flesh tore. I twisted the head, snapping the neck and gave one last tug, removing the head completely from the body. I held it up and stared into the blank eyes, a look of pain frozen on his face.

  Thomas let the body go and it hit the hard floor with a sickening thump. I placed the head upon the table as both it and the body began to wither away into nothing.

  “Where did Delilah go?” I asked.

  She pushed the door open and entered with a girl. A young girl in a ragged dress, shivering, barefoot, her hair loose and in greasy strands, her neck smeared with dried blood.

  “Is she a vampire?” I asked before Delilah could speak.

  “Almost” she told me softly. “Leon…”

  I took steps towards the girl who flinched as I approached. I cradled her head in my hands and she began to shake violently, “You poor girl” I whispered to her softly. “I’m so sorry.”

  “No, Leon, you can’t!” Delilah screamed as Thomas pulled her away from myself and the girl.

  I closed my eyes and tugged as hard as I could, ignoring the warm splatters of blood that hit my face.

  DELILAH’S STORY - KILLER INSTINCT – TRANSYLVANIA, 1978

  “Yeah, I’ll get right on that” I replied sarcastically and moved away from the author who swore he could make me a sensation. He latched onto another vampire and I rolled my eyes as I grabbed a champagne flute full of blood from a passing tray.

  I looked around. I couldn’t believe I was here again. I hated vampire birthday parties. Nobody wanted to fuck anyone. Vampires don’t fuck vampires. But I hated Dracula’s parties the most. The old bastard was cheesy and still riding high on the success of his story written by his sleazy ghost writer, Bram Stoker.

  I scanned the crowd, looking for a familiar but friendly face. I hadn’t seen my two best friends for almost fifty years. But I wasn’t sure if they’d be here. Thom was in the wind and Leon was one to send a gift with his apologies. He hated parties almost as much as I did. Giving up my search, I knocked back a full flute of blood and placed it on a glass table by me. I was just going to leave.

  “Delilah, dear” someone whispered behind me.

  That voice. It sent shivers down my spine, chills I rarely felt anymore. I froze, my hand still on the stem of the flute. I stared at the blood stains on it, the thickness of it sliding down the side of the glass. That’s when I felt his fingers on the back of my neck. Cold, almost damp as he stroked downwards to my back. I swallowed and turned around. And looked down.