The Highgate Vampires

There's a hotel room that sits close by to Highgate cemetery. Its sheets lay clean unyet its conscience remains dirty. The bathtub now embraces a warm welcoming smell of hot steamy water mixed with sensual oils and body wash. Two years prior however, that very tub encompassed the twisted torso of an un-named human. Water was not the liquid of its filling, rather it was the warm plentiful blood from the poor woman who's body remained in the tub for days.
"I cast my mind back to that dreary night of lavish killing, that night of the exquisite taste that did grace my tongue and lips." Hanns Von Dürer leaned back into his large padded leather armchair. Hanns looked in his mid 40's although he spoke with such wisdom, such experience, it almost seemed as though even twice that age would have been too young. He calmly placed his old mahogany pipe to his cold thin lips and puffed away whilst continuing his story:
The blood whence resided within her delicate veins was one of fine stock. Crimson in colour unyet in taste and character was bluer than any king could ever desire.
I had just entered my room for the night, I had stayed at this hotel many years prior unyet this was the first time my eyes had graced this exact room. I was usually given a room yonside the lower floors, however tonight the luck of the full moon did shine well in ones favour.
While I was still in the midst of unpacking an expectant guest came knocking upon my bedroom door. I closed my case and tidily placed it beneath my bed. I arose, walked to the door, unbolted it and pulled hard on the brass handle. There standing within the threshold was a rather wet looking figure, it was an old acquaintance of mine by the name of Burton O'Deluga. He was a rather large fellow and a few years my senior, although he looked no older than 40. His face was cast in shadow as he had upon him a large overcoat with it's hood up. I still instantly recognised him however as the large burn scar that clung to his left cheek was still visible.
"Have those menacing dark clouds finally given in and begun to engulf us with their promised rain?" I asked my guest whilst motioning him to enter my chamber.
"Oh no" came his reply as he entered and removed his overcoat. Large quantities of rain droplets fell from the coat and hit the wooden floor with strong thuds. "One just decided to take ones nightly swim within the Themes whilst fully clothed" he joked.
I smiled and took his coat off of him and walked towards the bathroom door.
"At what time did thou wish to begin the hunt tonight?" He asked as I was just reaching for the bathroom door handle.
"In a few hours" I replied whilst turning to face my old friend, my hand still hovered over the cold metal handle. "I had planed for around midnight".
"Does thou not think it wise to start earlier?" He questioned. "With this character they call 'the ripper' roaming the streets surely it will make our hunt harder this year".
My hand rested upon the door handle as I sternly answered him; "The one they speak of by the name of Jack is nothing more than a ghost story. Something our dear friends of the cloth have decided to use as means to frighten those who engage in prostitution into redemption. A mere character of Christian fantasy, a nightmare for our human cousins."
"Characters in nightmares still leave children checking under their beds for monsters. The police will be vigilant and the public scarce in number." He continued. "One has been in London for nearly a year now, one has wandered these streets and have bore witness to their change. So dark these streets have been of late. The foul stench of fear rises from Whitechapel and lingers within the air. Every ally is superstitiously passed by with caution as if it was but an open grave."
"There was a time when the blaming of these deaths would have been put upon the heads of our kin," I began to explain. "As our numbers begin to dwindle and our existence becomes confined to the coffins of history humans have begun to see the monstrous behaviour they encompass within. No longer are nightmarish creatures needed to be invented, no longer is the devil who resides beneath our feet feared. The humans have created their own nightmares, the humans fear the devil who resides within themselves. Our hunt shall commence as normal and we..."
I paused mid sentence and placed a finger across my lips, signalling my companion to do the same. His expression was one of confusion for he had not heard the noise that I had. The noise that had frozen my speech and left me in grave concern was that of movement, movement coming from within the supposed empty bathroom.
As I sileghntly motioned for Burton to quietly approach, a much louder shuffle filled the air followed by a large crash as if a glass had hit the wooden floor and sent thousands of shards scattering.
This louder noise that filled the air was most certainly heard by Burton, who had now made his way to my side.
We both shared a concerned glance, had this unknown phantom, this spectre whose presence was most unwelcome heard all that we had said prior to alerting us of their location.
I laid my hand heavily upon the handle of the door and with a firm push downwards unlatched it. We both heard the faint murmur of a young girls timid squeak.
With such vigour I pushed the door open and allowed it to swing back until it's reverse side greeted the edge of the tin bath with a loud echoing chime. We both boldly entered expecting to engage with our intruder. Unlike the door we were greeted with neither a bump nor a chime, instead our entrance was greeted with that of an empty bathroom. I walked in and noticed a small glass bottle laying upon the floor in front of me, it's soapy contents oozed and spewed around it unyet the perpetrator remained a mystery. The bottles feminine scent filled the room. I turned to face Burton and we shared in a puzzled look before Burton slowly and silently pushed me to the side and moved his way into the bathroom. Before I could question his actions his entire body pounced into the corner of the room by the sink. His fast moves and silent actions had obviously not suffered from his lack of practise over the previous year. My old friend still had within him the demonic predator that possessed both of us nearly 400 years prior and it was showing no signs of retiring. He paused momentarily and then, whilst still hunched over, twisted his body around and proceeded to reveal to me what his prey had been. Clasped within his right hand neatly sat the fresh corpse of a large brown rat, it's neck had been freshly snapped back and laid loosely over Burton's fingers.
"Our intruder" he said in a somewhat relived and jubilant manner.
I smiled a relieved smile and softly sighed, then turned and walked back into the bedroom. Burton followed me into the room and walked towards the large window that faced the door whilst I sat upon the bed. As he slid the window upwards the nights strong wind blew into the room a torrent of heavy rain, it proceeded to quickly soak the entire area around Burton. With great haste he tossed the dead rat out of the window and firmly slammed it shut. His desire not to be engulfed in rain again that evening was apparent as we then spent the next hour in heavy meditation. Our joint efforts to slice into the great clouds that lingered above us were most fruitful as within the hour the lashing rain against the window softened and gradually became nothing more than that of a pitter and a patter. Although with the quietening of the storm our meditation gradually became more frequently interrupted by the muffled groans and yearnings of the couple in the room next to ours. It was just after a rather loud and passionate "oh yes, again! Again!" from the woman who was obviously being bedded well that I thought to myself; "I have been in London less than twenty four hours and it's already apparent to me that this city is still a menagerie of creatures that go bump in the night."
Hanns broke from his story and gave a soft smile, he always did rather enjoy a good witty phrase. His eyes glanced over to his guest who was sitting upon an old wooden rocking chair directly opposite him. The ghostly flames that did dance so elegantly from within the large stone fireplace illuminated the mans restraints. Hanns had bound his guests wrists and ankles with leather straps that clung to the rocking chair with a deathly grip. The man had such limited movement that he could barely wriggle, not that he attempted to wriggle any longer, instead the man just sat perfectly still, perfectly silent and listened to his host recount upon his memories of the years prior.
"Once the storm had begun to show signs of it's submission to our wishes," Hanns continued:
Our next task was to gather some soil of our forefathers homeland. You may think it strange that we should find such long and forgotten foreign soil within the confines of this city, unyet thou would be wrong, hence the selecting of our location.
We donned our overcoats as the night still had an air of misty rain about it, a shroud covering the city that was impossible to lift. We turned and made our way to the door bidding our room fair well and silently manoeuvred down the shadow soaked corridor. Gas lamps illuminated our path with just enough light to show us the way to the stairs that lead out to the front door. We passed no one and heard not one sound. We boldly made our way out into the damp and dark street that ran along the front of our hotel, the only sounds that graced our ears were the soft dripping of cast off rain droplets vacating whatever surface the storm had left them on.