Tynasian Dreams

presents

Jack Sprat – The Novel

The Truth Behind the Nursery Rhyme

Chapters One and Two

CHAPTER 1

The bar was a cigarette-smoke fug dashed through with flashes of neon. Bodies moved through the darkened haze like wraiths through a supernatural night. Dead faces of lost souls flowed in and out of focus, small, elongated white ovals pierced by sunken eyes. Heavy music ripped through the air spewing from black speakers hidden in the shroud of night that swam above the lights. It cascaded around the dancers who writhed around on the dance-floor like maggots in a fisherman’s creel. Floating like some bloated corpse behind the counter the letters of the bar’s name, “Bloodsucker”, shone out.

The girl sat in an alcove surrounded by chain-link divides, sipping at her drink. She welcomed the numbing effect of the alcohol as it sank slowly through her system. Around her the world moved but she didn’t see it. To her it might just as well not have existed. She wore tight fitting clothes that accentuated her figure. Leather trousers to coat her long, slender legs like liquid and a black lace bra that barely covered her ample breasts. The jacket, worn outside to keep her warm, lay discarded on the stained velour beside her.

As her unseeing blue eyes focused for a second she thought she saw a shadow move. For a moment her mind tried to grasp a thought but then it was whisked away and the numbing pleasure of the drink returned. As an afterthought she shook her head sending her unkempt shock of blond hair spinning, but it simply made her head hurt more. She sat back and let the music drift around her.

Jack moved through the bar unseen. His black attire blended with the background and his nebulous features made no mark with those who saw him. The centuries had softened the ugliness that Morgana had seen, the blood he’d drunk to sustain himself subtly altering him. Now his features bordered on handsome. An animal magnetism exuded from him, its field drawing in those he wished, repelling those he rejected.

The drink in his hand went untouched; an unnecessary prop in this often repeated show. He led his gaze rest for a second on the girl. She was beautiful, her body the nearest to perfection a man could imagine. For a single moment of time Jack let his humanity surface wondering what drove so perfect a creature to this place at this time. He would, he knew, understand fully by dawn, but by then it just wouldn’t matter.

The girl looked up as he slipped onto the bench beside her. The sticky coating of the material dragged against the pristine cut of his trousers. His hand brushed the tabletop, felt the thin coating of grease and withdrew. The girl looked around, her heavily made up eyes desperately trying to focus. Jack smiled, released the pheromones that sat in the bulb like gland at the base of his neck and said. “May I join you?”

His voice was like liquid. It ran across the gap between them and tricked into her ears.

She tried to speak, her mouth opening and closing a few times before she gave up. Instead she let her head rock back and forth a couple of times.

The reaction was typical, expected, part of the ritual of the hunt.

“I’m Jack.”

This time she managed to answer. “Jill,” she replied and giggled at the thought. “Jill Martin.”

Lifting her glass of orange goo she stared at it for a second or two.

“You don’t need that,” said Jack.

“I don’t need this,” she replied, and placed the smeared glass down onto the tabletop. Jack noticed the ellipse of lipstick that coated the rim, a perfect imprint of her lips.

“The noise is giving me a headache,” he continued. “Shall we go?”

“Go?” asked the girl. “Go where?”

“Somewhere quiet, somewhere more intimate.”

The noise and smoke followed them out. It drifted behind them like some creature that was unwilling to let them go. As the last wisps coiled reluctantly back the cool night air enveloped them. Jill let out a soft little moan as the chill touched her skin. Jack held up her jacket and she slipped awkwardly into it.

The noise from the bar was muted, the old warehouse walls blanketing much of the sound. It was situated in a partially renovated dockland area just away from the city centre. Billboards proclaimed the dawn of a new age for the area but reality still had a hold and dead buildings lined the narrow streets. A thin, insipid rain spilled down over them, wetting the cobbles of the old road making them slick and treacherous. Somewhere far off a boat’s horn sounded a sonorous warning. Closer, the lap of waves permeated through the narrow alleys. With the sound came the smells of the river, a mix of industrial and human waste.

The road led up away from the riverside. The route as straight as a die, lit by small spherical bulbs in old lamps. The pale yellow light they emitted dropped in pools, leaving the surrounding area dark with shadow.

“This way,” said Jack, taking Jill’s arm gently and leading her away from the bar. Behind him he heard a door open and the sound of retching reached his ears.

They walked on, the girl lost in her own dumb world, Jack lost in his.

At the crest of the hill was a small square, at the centre of which stood an old well. As they strode past it the irony of the scene made Jack laugh as he remembered a half forgotten rhyme.

“Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pale of water.”

He noticed a broken sign, the letters faded almost to a uniform grey. It promised salvation for others at the generous gift of those who made a wish. Jack ignored the message, after all he’d seen it too many times before through the centuries. It meant nothing, it never had.

Beyond the square the city proper began. Tall buildings rose sharply up, their glass covered facades glowing with light. Cars skimmed along the wet roads leaving red afterimages of their passing. The girl seemed mesmerised by them, her head moving to follow their passage. Not far away a taxi rank stood full to the brim and Jack guided Jill towards the lead car.

The taxi-driver ignored them as they slid into the back seat. Jack spoke into the microphone, giving his address before sitting back and letting Jill flop onto his shoulder. The vehicle moved off, the silent shudder of the electric motor pushing them back for a second or two before the momentum eased and they glided through the night.

Jack’s apartment was sunk beneath an office block a little way from the centre of the city. A subterranean complex of rooms linked to the surface in half a dozen places. It smelt of rosewood and exotic spices, and felt cool. Jack paid the taxi-driver, giving him a fifty when a thirty would have done. The pound note was snatched through the metal grill with a grunt of appreciation. As the car purred away Jack looked up at the tall building opposite, a gothic relic from an all but forgotten past. It seemed somehow incongruous next to the concrete and chrome mega-plexes that dominated the city now. Smaller, almost as though it chose, like him, to hide amid the gleam of the new tomorrow.

Somewhere to his left he heard glass break and a girl shriek.

Manoeuvring Jill back into the shadows he took out his key and activated the lock. A purr of recognition told him the code was accepted and the door slid back. Lights flickered into life revealing a steep flight of concrete steps to the left and an escalator to the right. Jack moved through, touched a pad on the wall and paused while the electrics that drove the escalator came online. Jack nudged Jill forward and held onto her swaying form as they descended into the pit that was his home.

The bedroom was large, decorated in mock gothic it was dominated by a huge four-poster bed. Drapes clad the walls with warm, yet sombre hues. Deep reddish-browns like dried blood, shot through with silver and gold, predominated. Jill lay on the bed, her high-heeled boots rucking the sheets. The vast mane of hair swept up over the pillows like a waterfall. She looked serene with her eyes closed and her lips pouted. The steady rise and fall of her breasts, free of the restraining bra, informed Jack that sleep had her in its embrace. He smiled, settling down on the edge of the bed and letting his long nails caress her body. The skin felt soft and warm to the touch of his fingertips.

Licking his lips he allowed the long, feral fangs of his incisors to lengthen. Their kiss on his lower lip felt sharp but welcome. The familiar feeling of bloodlust swelled up inside him and he sank forward onto the bed to nuzzle into the girls neck.

She murmured a small protest and tried to push him aside but the attempt was feeble, softened by exhaustion and alcohol. Jack let his tongue flick out and wet the spot where the jugular pulsed. He could sense the flow of blood beneath the tip and his excitement rose. Metabolic changes began to gently change his body, the pupils of his eyes faded away to form black pools, his muscles hardened. Sight and smell became enhanced beyond what was normal even for him and he could taste the electricity that pulsed in the air. Raising his head he sniffed like some feral beast, his face contorted into a snarl. Jill’s body reeked of sweat and smoke but beneath the sheen he could sense the darker chemicals of desire. Her nipples responded to his touch, hardening into stiff little columns of pink flesh. The swelling mounds of her breasts drew themselves upright, puffing out and changing hue. Gently he lowered his face over them and lost himself to the pleasures of their taste and feel.

Understanding of what was happening seemed to filter down into Jill’s mind and it responded by waking her. The blue eyes opened, the lashes fluttering. A sound that might have been speech came from deep in her throat but was soon lost in a gargle of pleasure. Jack murmured assurances to her, his own mind seeping into hers to wrap and envelop the panic, easing it aside. She relaxed, sinking back into the mattress and reaching for the clasp of her belt.

Jack helped her, lifting her legs to let her wriggle free of the second skin. She wore no panties and the scent of her readiness drifted up to him. He shrugged off his clothes, eased the sheets over her and then slipped in beside her. Despite the alcohol Jill responded to him, crushing her lips to his, letting her hand snake down to close over and guide him. She moaned once more as he rolled onto her, his head drifting towards her neck. Writhing beneath him, she tried to make him go deeper, thrust harder. Jack nibbled her skin, sought out the pulse of the artery once more, let his fangs break the surface, the numbing analgesic the teeth contained taking away the pain. Then he felt the rush of emotion as the hot gush of blood burst into his mouth. He climaxed, feeling her stiffen beneath him and understanding that she was reaching the same height as he was.

Blood flowed down his throat, entered his system, merged with his soul and, as it did so, he became one with her, understood her sorrow, knew instantly that to take her life would be a sin. He pulled back licking at the pulsing wound, sealing it with saliva. The flow ceased and Jack rolled off her, satiated.

Jill sensed him move, turned to follow, holding him in her arms, seeking out the embrace that meant so much to her. He wrapped her close and held her while she slept, knowing that his life had changed, that here was an enigma that would not be readily explained.

CHAPTER 2

Dawn broke above bringing life once more to the world. Jack slept with the girl beside him, both wrapped in their own dreams, each equally filled with a mixture of joy and sorrow. Jack dreamt of the past, of his initiation into the realm of the undead. It was, he considered when he awoke, a good dream.

Softly he slipped from the bed and padded through to the kitchen where he filled a kettle and began to boil some water. The soft fluorescent light set behind a filter in the ceiling hummed softly to itself until the controlling circuitry had warmed, then it crackled once and fell silent. Jack whistled gently under his breath. It was a medieval ditty that he’d been taught by his mother. When the kettle boiled he measured out a spoonful of coffee and added a dash of artificial creamer to a cup. He filled it to the brim and carried it through to the bedroom.

Jill Martin was sitting bolt upright in one corner of the bed, her legs drawn defensively under her chin.

“Good morning,” he said, setting the coffee down on a bedside table.

Jill glanced down at it then straight back up at him.

“Where am I?” she stammered.

“My place,” replied Jack.

“Where’s that?”

“It was once an underground station, back in the days before the vac tubes replaced the old electric trains. It was called “Angel”.”

Jill shook her head as if to try and clear it. “Did we…?” she began, but her voice just trailed away.

Jack nodded.

“God, what am I?” Jill’s shoulders heaved and a sob of despair shook her body.

“I made you some coffee,” Jack offered.

Jill rocked back and forth, hugging her legs and the bedclothes to her. “I don’t even remember who you are,” she observed eventually.

“I’m Jack.”

“Probably true, but unhelpful,” she replied.

“Jack Sprat.”

She stared at him, a look of desperation on her face.

“As in the nursery rhyme?” she asked.

“Yes. I blame my mother.”

“Could be worse,” she admitted.

“How?”

“You might be short and fat.” She forced a laugh and then held her head.

“Headache?” asked Jack.

“Hmm.”

“Drink the coffee, it’ll help. I’ll go see if I’ve any tablets.”

“I need the bathroom,” said Jill, as he turned to leave.

“Through there,” he replied without turning, his hand snaking out to point towards a door.

When he came back into the bedroom it was still empty. From the bathroom he could here the sound of his shower running, it just failed to mask the puking noises. For a fleeting moment he considered helping, but ruled it out almost at once. When Jill finally emerged she looked grey and tired. She’d wrapped a large bath-sheet around her body but it still left an enormous amount of leg showing. Jack watched her come towards him.

“How much did I drink?” she asked.

“I only saw the one, but it looked strong.”

“Orange-headbanger?”

“It was orange,” he confirmed.

“Jesus!” She looked around. “No clock?”

“It’s around midday.”

“Midday? Shit, I should be at work.”

“It’s Saturday.”

“I happen to work on a Saturday, some people do you know.”

“Drink your coffee, you’ll be dehydrated.”

Jill looked around in a panic. “My bag. Did you see my bag?”

“You didn’t seem to have one when we met.”

“Oh god! Now I really am fucked! That had my credit chips and everything in it.”

“It’s probably at the club.”

“And is that supposed to make me feel better, Jack?”

He shrugged.

“You’ve been there, you’ve seen the lowlife shit that hangs there. What chance do I stand of getting it back.”

“We’ll get it,” Jack said with authority.

“What are you, a miracle worker.”

“Not recently. Now, drink you’re coffee.”

She sipped at the black sludge then spat it out. “Jesus, how old is this stuff, it tastes like toilet water.”

Jack didn’t like to ask how she knew. Instead he simply took the cup from her and went to the kitchen. “Try the water,” he said, “perhaps you’ll find it more to your liking.”

“Five years out of date!” shrieked Jill, holding the jar under his nose. She’d followed him into the kitchen and now held the evidence she’d uncovered up for inspection. “Are you trying to poison me as well as rape me?”

“It didn’t feel like rape to me.”

“Well you weren’t lying where I was.”

“I’ve never heard of a rape victim guiding the offending weapon home,” countered Jack.

Jill blushed. “Whatever,” she murmured, but the subject was dropped.

“Sorry about the coffee,” said Jack, “I never drink it myself, it doesn’t agree with me.”

“Yeah, doctor said I should cut down on the caffeine too. This could be as good a time as any.” She stepped to the side but suddenly grabbed for the worktop.

Jack stepped in to prevent her from falling.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Dizzy. Bloody “Headbanger’s” revenge. God I’m a slut.”

“Far from it.”

She glared at him for a second. “What would you call someone who let’s you fuck them on a first date then? God, not even a date, just a lousy pickup.” Before he could answer she burst into tears and, fending off his offer of help, fled back to the bedroom.

Jack followed and found her lying on the bed. The towel had lolled open, revealing more of her than she realised. Jack moved to the side of the bed and sat. He watched her in silence. Eventually she looked up at him through a tousled mass of hair and said. “I feel lousy.”

“Rest,” he replied, and let his mind move forward to caress hers. “Sleep,” he commanded, and watched as her eyes closed. A few moments later he withdrew from her mind and let her own body resume control.

Smiling to himself Jack rose, glided across the bedroom and out into the living area. It was large, originally a wide open space inside the original station but now there was little to give the fact away. The walls were shrouded, darkened by swathes of material, the floor carpeted in plush swathes of natural wool. Overhead, slim, elegant lights filtered through frosted lenses to produce an almost misty atmosphere. The furnishing was sparse but expensive. Two leather reclining chairs were set in front of a Bang and Olufsen music system that fed speakers almost as tall as the room itself. Hidden in the folds of material were more speakers that added ambience to any music played.

Jack sat in his chair, the other stood empty as it always did. Lying back he let his eyelids drop and his mind wander. The mystery of the girl still plagued him. How could she be what she was, who she was; it was impossible. Eventually he drifted off to sleep again, waking at sunset, knowing instantly that it was feeding time.

Rising from the chair he moved silently towards the bedroom. Jill lay there, the covers hardly creased, clear evidence of deep sleep. Smiling to himself Jack slipped through to the bathroom, stripped and showered. When he’d finished he returned to the bedroom to find Jill sitting up in bed.

“Did I wake you?” he asked.

“No,” she yawned, “at least I don’t think so.”

“How do you feel?”

“Very weak. My legs are like jelly.”

“Alcohol poisoning. Rest, take a long bath, the Jacuzzi’s relaxing.”

“What about you?”

“I,” he paused, “work at night.”

“Ah, a night bird.”

“Something like that.”

“You don’t mind, then?”

“What?”

“Me. Being here.”

“Should I?”

The question was met with a shrug.

“Won’t someone worry about you.”

Jill barked out a laugh. It sounded cruel, unsuited to so pretty a throat. “Hardly. Mum and dad are both dead. I’ve a brother, somewhere, and two nights ago I found my boyfriend in bed with another woman.”

“So you decided to get drunk.”

She shrugged. “Dunno what I decided, it all seems a bit of a blur now. All I know is that the bastard’s still got all my stuff in his apartment and that bitch is there.”

“I could get it for you.”

Jill was silent her eyes searching his face. Suddenly she shook her head. “No.”

“But why? You’re not up to it, I am.”

“I hardly know you.”

“Perhaps.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.”

“Tell me about your boyfriend.”

“He’s a fucked up jerk.” The venomous explosion shocked him. “He is,” she insisted defensively. “He’s a loner out of the Midlands Conurbation, high on his own testosterone. Likes to work and play hard, or so he thinks. I went along for the ride, found myself drawn in by him and eventually thought I loved him. Then he goes off with another woman.”

“So he was a loner, eh?”

“Yeah. No hoper really. Into cyber-implants, muscle enhancements and the like. God he’s even had a vibrator put into his…” She shook her head as though to clear it of the memory. “Doesn’t matter. He lost his parents in a plane crash some years before I met him, no brothers or sisters, just an aunt who got sent to the penal colony in Australia.”

“Doesn’t sound the sort a girl like you should be with.”

“Perhaps.” She gave a snort. “God, you sound like my mum.”

“I just meant….”

She held up a conciliatory hand. “Doesn’t matter. If you don’t mind I’d like to crash here. It’s better than the hotel I was in and,” she paused and looked pleadingly up at him. “I would appreciate you getting some, special, things from him.”

“Just give me a list. But you’re sure it’s ok.”

“What?”

“For me to go into the apartment.”

“Hell yes. You got my permission though I don’t see what good it’ll do.”

“It’s just that I wouldn’t go anywhere I wasn’t invited.”

Jack stood at the bottom of the old airshaft looking up. Far above he could see the closed steel doors of the iris that kept out both the sunlight and any unwanted guests. Lights pulsed along its length in pinpricks of white. Shadows swirled around his still form slowly coalescing into a midnight hued cloak. It twisted and twirled despite the lack of any wind. Slowly at first, but then with gathering momentum Jack began to rise. The cloak ebbed around his frame like liquid. As he passed a sensor the door above him began to slide open. At the same instant the lights blinked out leaving the shaft a column of jet. Increasing his speed still further Jack erupted from the opening like mist, his passing too quick for a human eye to track. Within moments he was high above the city and looping down towards the address Jill had given him, sure that her ex-boyfriend was about to experience something beyond his wildest imaginings.