Language in the Blood

  Chapter 4: Lily

  I walked away from the front and the trenches, going south towards Paris, walking by night and hiding in dark places during the day. I wasn’t yet sure what had happened to me and I was worried about being seen and arrested for desertion. I should never have gone back to my unit. Now I risked being shot. Dead Cameron should have stayed dead Cameron to be cried over by his loving fiancée and proud parents. But like my mum always said, no use crying over spilled milk.

  I spent the first few days just getting away from the front but then hunger started to slow me down. I tried to eat a carrot that I found growing on the land, but my body rejected it, vomiting it out as soon as I had swallowed it. Really? I can only drink blood now? I said to the half-eaten carrot. It was the same with liquids; my body violently ejected anything I tried to drink. After three days without food, my stomach was hurting badly – and not just my stomach; all my internal organs screamed in pain. I needed to feed.

  On day four, I found a farm with a few cows in a shed. My fangs immediately pushed themselves out at the smell of the warm bodies. I touched them and found that they were very sharp. Well here goes! I said to myself as I moved closer to one of the cows. I felt disgusted, but my stomach was hurting so badly I was willing to give it a try.

  The cow let out an alarmed moo as I sank my fangs into its shoulder and the blood came running into my mouth. Oh, but it was good! I felt all the pain just ebbing away. I had a few pints from all four cows and felt sharp and alert. No sleeping today! I could have run for miles, but I knew instead that I had to hide from the daylight again. The hayloft seemed as good a hiding place as any and I reckoned I’d be able to stay there for a while.

  Later that morning, I felt someone coming up the hayloft stairs, someone small, female and very quiet. I scented her as she crawled into the hay. She smelled lovely and I realised it was her blood I could detect. I kept very quiet. I certainly wasn’t going to bite a wee girl!

  ‘Lily!’ I suddenly heard a man shout. ‘Lily, where are you?’

  I felt her stiffening and smelled fear. I could literally hear her heart speeding up at the sound of the man’s voice.

  ‘Get down here, Lily. I know you are up there,’ he shouted impatiently.

  ‘Oh God, no!’ I heard her whimper. Lily was crying quietly.

  I felt a heavy man come up the stairs to our loft and start to root around in the hay to find the girl. She was soon pulled out, screaming. I wondered what to do; it didn’t look like it was going to end well for Lily.

  I heard a blow and crawling forwards saw a young woman of about 18 on the ground with blood running from her nose. She was unconscious. A farmer of about 50 was crouched over her, pulling up her skirts. I dashed over and grabbed the farmer’s leg, dragging him with ease under the hay with me. I sank my fangs into his fat neck and felt the warm blood gushing out. He struggled and kicked but it only made the blood run faster and soon he went limp. I drank for a long time. He was a big fellow and I wanted to drain him of every drop.

  When I’d finished, the enormity of what I’d done washed over me. I just killed a man! But I felt good... I looked on the farmer’s body and felt nothing for him. Inside, I had a wonderful glow, yet it frightened me that it was so much better than the cow’s blood. Human blood was something else and it tasted great. My senses were sharpened and my strength and energy were much greater. I could imagine it becoming quite addictive, but instinct told me that I’d have to be careful – I could feel its corrupting influence too.

  I heard the girl stirring and I went quiet again.

  ‘Uncle Frédérick?’ she called out softly. Then I heard her going downstairs. Once it was dark, I buried Uncle Frédérick behind the cowshed. Lily seemed to live alone on the farm and I didn’t hear anyone else over the next few days.

  Four nights later, I knocked on the farm door. Lily opened it but only a few inches. She looked at me with fear, but when she saw the British uniform she started to relax.

  ‘Can I help you?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m afraid I have some bad news for you. Can I come in?’

  I was amazed at my sudden ability to speak French. How had that happened?

  ‘Yes, come in. Is it my uncle?’ She opened the door wider and I went inside.

  ‘Yes I’m afraid so,’ I said, taking a seat by the small kitchen table. The farm really only consisted of a kitchen and a bedroom. There were few possessions.

  ‘They told me in the village that a man named Frédérick lived here,’ I explained.

  ‘Yes Frédérick Lafontaine, he is my uncle – he is my only family now my father has gone to the front.’

  ‘I’m so sorry. He got drunk a few nights ago and fell in the Seine. I saw him going in but he got swept away very quickly. We have been looking along the banks for many days but we can’t find him. I’m afraid he must be dead,’ I told her. I thought it a credible lie. Lily sat very still for a while, and then she got up to make some coffee.

  ‘Will you be ok here by yourself, Mademoiselle?’ I asked her

  ‘I think so. I have been helping my uncle for a year now and I think I can take care of the farm until my father comes back from the war.’

  She put the coffee pot on the table and sat down again. She had started to cry now and I grabbed her hand to comfort her. She looked at me startled.

  ‘Your hands are freezing. Here, have some hot coffee.’

  ‘No, that’s ok,’ I told her, hastening to get away. ‘I should really get back to my unit. I don’t want to be shot for desertion now.’ I left and walked on to find another farm where I could feed and hide.

  One Sunday not long after, I was hiding in another hayloft and when it got dark I came out to look for some livestock. I watched the farmhouse and spotted the farmer and his wife coming out of the front door all dressed up in their finest clothes. They must have been on their way to a party or suchlike. I saw my opportunity to go in and steal some clothes. I’d noticed that I had become rather wild and unkempt and I was sure the farmer would have a razor and some scissors. I went in and got some water to shave, but then I got quite a fright. I was prepared for not having any reflection at all – I was not prepared to see my dead, decaying self staring back at me. I sat on the bed for a while, shaking, and then I reached over carefully to put the bedspread over the mirror. Christ, I never wanted to look at that again!

  I had to re-learn shaving by touch and at first I had a few mishaps with the sharp razor. But we vampires heal and learn quickly. My haircut must have been bizarre though, as I could only blindly snip away at my black locks.