The Stirrings of a Cold Heart Ch. 13

Alex Mabon was walking the dark streets of London, his eyes watching everything. He had heard a few rumors over the last month or so that piqued his interest greatly. The story he heard was in regard to an angel that had been appearing in various hospitals and workhouses. Some said she brought water, food and gave money. Other stories claimed that she was also death itself and when she saw someone ready for heaven she led them there.

To the hunter this did not sound like any vampire he had ever heard of and yet the part of the story regarding the angel of death couldn't be ignored. There was one man who had recently been released from The Foundling Hospital who swore he had seen her with his own eyes. He described her as beautiful with red hair, pale skin, and a gentle voice. Once he had heard this he immediately thought of the woman he had met in church with the mark on her forehead. Surely she had not fallen victim to the vampire?

For the few nights Alex had been visiting various hospitals and workhouses hoping to see the 'angel' for himself. Nothing ever seemed to materialize. He continued to hear the stories as he talked to various patients or people seeking refuge and a meal for the night. The stories were always the same. The only time anything changed was when he spoke to a man working in one of the hospitals. He gave the same description as all the others, but added that he heard her softly singing an Irish lullaby to a sick elderly woman just before she carried her soul to heaven.

Alex found this a rather curious detail. He had never heard of such a thing before. Every vampire he had ever encountered had been consumed by such bloodlust that even a momentary brush with compassion never happened. Nosferatu always kill quick and unthinkingly like the vicious predators and parasites they were, so why didn't this one?

It was one in the morning and the old hunter was ready to give up the search and leave the Blue-coat Hospital. The stories were just too fanciful, he told himself. They were a lot of pretty imagery with no substance. He started towards the exit, but as he passed one of the wards a voice reached his ears and a familiar vibration went through him alerting to the presence of a vampire. Someone was singing, but more than that, they were singing an old Gaelic lullaby. The voice was so beautiful in its crystalline perfection that he was certain if the angels in heaven heard it they would be jealous.

Stealthily he crept to the edge of the doorway and listened for a few more moments before peeking inside. To his surprise, there was the so-called 'angel' sitting on a stool next to the bed of an old woman. Next to her was a basket that had a cloth over it. He wondered what she was hiding in it. He could tell by the elderly patient's sweaty pale face and the way she coughed with splatters of blood appearing on her handkerchief that she was ill with consumption. It was a common disease and most, if not all, of the infirmed on this ward were sick with it. Of all the afflictions mankind suffered from, consumption claimed more than smallpox, measles, typhus, and whooping cough combined.

The Irish song came to an end as the hunter pulled his hat low over his face and seated himself next to a sleeping patient. Here he could listen and observe without being noticed. What he heard was not the conversation he expected, nor did he anticipate seeing the old woman smile up at the 'angel' or take hold of her hand. Her voice was low and strained as she spoke of her home back in Ireland where her husband was buried and her six children and three grandchildren. Her tired eyes momentarily twinkled as she shared her hope for more in the future.

"Then you will have to get well so you can play with them," the 'angel' said, trying to lift her spirits. Hearing the voice, Alex immediately knew it was the woman from the church and his brow furrowed at the thought that he had failed to save her soul. With a heavy sigh he bowed his head low and continued to listen to their conversation.

"Ah, lass, I know I will not be here to see them," the old woman answered sadly. "I hope to watch them from heaven someday. If God will let me."

"Heaven . . ." the 'angel' echoed sadly, then quickly changed the subject. "You shouldn't worry about such things and instead concentrate on getting well so you can see those precious babies." The elderly patient only shook her head in response as a slight smile played on her lips.

"A body knows when God is calling them home, child, and I am anxious to be in that paradise and hold my Liam again," The words of the grandmother were weak and yet there was so much joy and hope ringing in them that there was almost a glow about her. It was obvious the cloaked woman could feel the peace and elation infirmed matron had because she bent lower and the old woman saw the unmistakable sadness that clouded her pretty face. "Oh come now, a young woman like you should not be so downcast. God has a wonderful future planned for you."

"Does he?" she answered, trying to hide her doubt and slight bitterness and failing.

"Do you not believe in God?"

"Not in the way that you do." The 'angel' answered with a slight sniff, then as a half-hearted jest she added. "I'm afraid he has abandoned me."

"Oh child," the elderly patient whispered. "He has never abandoned anyone. I know sometimes it feels that way, but you must remember that we are not promised happiness. He has been the greatest love of my life and carried me through the death of two babies and the loss of my sweet husband." She had very little strength but she managed to summon what she could and clutch the cloaked woman's hands in hers. Her breath became more labored, but she was determined to say what was on her heart. "G-God . . . h-has a p-plan . . . for . . . you."

The old woman's hands fell limp and her eyes grew empty as her body relaxed into death. The 'angel' reached over and closed her eyes then rose and took up her covered basket, then walked past the hunter and out of the ward. Alex rose as well and began to follow her, watching as she stopped a night doctor and informed him of the woman's death then paid for all of her medical bills. Outside the hospital he watched in wonder as she paused before a beggar lying in the street and gave him a few coins and some bread she had in her basket.

She continued further into the night with the hunter following quietly behind. More than once he thought he had lost her only to catch sight of her cloaked figure moving through the shadows. Crossing through one of the parks in London, Alex managed to get ahead of her. As she came up the dark path he stepped out in front of her and gave a polite 'my lady' in greeting. She looked up and saw that his suspicions had been correct. The angel was the young woman he had met in church that had the mark of the vampire on her forehead, but now that mark was gone. This could only mean that the bonding ritual was complete and it saddened him.

It would be easy enough to kill her. He carried the very tools he needed just inside his overcoat, but for some unknown reason the thought bothered his conscience. She could have easily killed the dying old woman at the hospital or the beggar on the street, but she didn't. She had comforted one and paid her debts then fed the other. These were not the acts of an evil creature, regardless of what the church would try to convince him.

"What do you want? Why have you been following me?" she demanded. Alex's eyebrows raised in surprise. He was sure he had concealed himself better than that. "Yes, I knew you were behind since shortly after I left the hospital."

"You and I have spoken before, but we were not formally introduced. I am Alexander Mabon, or Alex."

"I do remember speaking with you in church Mr. Mabon. Our last meeting was peculiar enough but now I am truly beginning to wonder what sort of man you are to follow young women around in the dark this late at night."

"Since you are being so frank with me, I shall do likewise," he returned, folding his hands at his waist and straightening his posture. "You are not the same young lady I met at church. You have become something, shall we say 'different'. Aidan looked down at the cobblestones beneath her feet, humiliation clouding her face. "I don't suppose you'd tell me your name."

"Aidan," she answered softly. "Aidan Cathal."

"Pretty name." He smiled gently at her then gestured towards a bench that was positioned along the path. "Can we talk?"

Reluctantly she sat down then pushed back the hood of her cloak. She couldn't imagine what this man wanted to talk to her about. Why did he concern himself with her and how did he know she was a vampire? Alex could see the consternation in her eyes and sighed. Where to begin. He sat down on the other side of the bench and looked out at the stars for a moment while he got his thoughts together then turned and looked at the young woman beside him.

"When did you cross over?"

"That is not entirely clear," she began, searching her memory. "The day you and I met I went to perform at the opera. I can vaguely remember being shot. Everything else is hazy."

"Who turned you?"

"I don't understand what concern it is of yours. You are not my father, my brother, guardian or even a friend," Aidan retorted, tersely.

"No I am not," he agreed. "Let me be completely frank with you, Miss Cathal, I am by profession, a vampire hunter." At these words, she was instantly afraid and started to get up, but before she could, he caught her and pulled her back down. "Sit down, you are not in any danger. If I had wanted you dead then there would already be a stake through your heart and you never would have seen it coming." Aiden's eyes were wide and if she had possessed a living heart then it would have been pounding in her chest. "You understand that I am putting myself at risk by revealing myself to you. There is nothing to stop you from telling your master about my presence in this city."

"Then why . . ."

"Because I witnessed something I have never seen before in a vampire: compassion."

"Am I not supposed to feel compassion?"

"From my experience, no. Nosferatu are supposed to feel nothing in the same way humans never give a thought to the pig that has been slaughtered for their sausages," he sniffed, the corner of his lip curling in a slight smile at the description. He had to admit that there was a certain logic to this notion. How can you feed on someone or something if you have even a little emotional attachment.

"I can't do that," Aidan answered. "I did once, but I didn't really know what I was doing. Now that I do, I simply can't. So I seek out those that are ill or dying and either take just enough to satisfy or send them to God's awaiting arms."

"And the food and money?" Alex asked. Her system of feeding may have been out of necessity, but the charity was not. For a moment Aidan was silent and looked up at the stars shining in the dark night sky. Were they the eyes of God watching over her? Could he even see her at all anymore?

"Regardless of who made me this way or why, I have been put into a position of means and if I can use it to help others, then what is the harm?"

"I can see no harm in it, miss." he responded, gratified by her answer. "Perhaps you are simply wiser than the others."

"Or not wise enough," she commented dryly. "It might be better if I didn't care at all."

"Don't ever say that. The moment a vampire gives up caring the blood lust takes over. This usually happens with the first kill because they are so hungry and the rush that comes with the first taste of blood is so exhilarating that they embrace it and let it consume them. After that they don't care how many innocent souls they destroy and leave at the shores of the river Styx awaiting passage from Charon's boat." At this, Aidan shuddered at the thought. She couldn't imagine embracing such a life as that.

"You'd think with such a prospect as that they would run away from those shores," Aidan said, trying to drive the image of those lost souls from her mind. The hunter couldn't help a slight laugh at her suggestion.

"That is why Hades has Cerberus guard the gate, if you believe in the Greek version of the underworld."

"Cerberus?"

"In mythology it was the three-headed demon hound of the underworld."

"Oh, like what's on Mr. Ambro . . ." Here the soprano stopped herself. The last thing she wanted to do was give this vampire hunter any information regarding Erik. This Alex Mabon might not hurt her but she couldn't be sure that he would not take him away from her. " . . . Like I read in the book Mr. Ambrose gave me."

"Mr. Ambrose?"

"He's a friend of mine," she quickly answered then stood and pulled her hood over her head. "From my human days." this was a lie and one that the hunter saw through, but said nothing. "I have to go, Mr. Mabon. It's quite late and I am sure you must be getting tired."

"Perhaps we will be able to speak again sometime."

"Of course. I look forward to it," she responded politely, then hurried off into the night.

Alex continued to sit on the bench and mull over what she had said. Was this Mr. Ambrose her master? Whomever he was, he had some kind of connection to Cerberus. The hunter could recall reading about a vampire and a mention of the hellhounds, but at the moment he couldn't remember the particulars. Perhaps it was time to go back to his books and brush up on it.