Darkness In The Flames Read Free Page B

clothes, and Sidney reached for his neck to check his pulse.
    He couldn’t find one.
    Sidney blinked as the man’s eyes opened slowly and focused directly on his face. “Where am I?”
    The voice was accented, slurred a little and Sidney eased the soaked head back down cautiously before answering. “You are in England. The south coast. On the shore of my estate, St. Chesswell.”
    Dark eyes considered Sidney, their color indistinguishable in the shadows of the night. Clouds scudded across the sky, obscuring the moon momentarily, and Sidney shivered. There was something about that gaze…
    The man coughed again and his chest heaved as water spurted from his mouth. “Your pardon.” He wiped his lips with his hand.
    “’Tis no matter. You need help. I live nearby—let me get you dry clothes and food.”
    There was silence for a moment, then a sound that might well have been a laugh. “I will accept the offer of clothes. But I do not think you would find my acceptance of food very healthful.”
    Sidney was about to respond with a question when the moon reappeared. The man was lying still, his gaze fixed on Sidney’s face. But something had changed—his expression perhaps. Whatever it was, it stopped Sidney in his tracks.
    Slowly, the man parted his lips revealing two long teeth. They shone in the muted glimmer and Sidney knew immediately who—or rather what —had washed ashore this night. “You are—you are one of them . The undead.”
    In the blink of an eye the man moved, swiftly grasping Sidney by the throat. “What do you know of us? Are you one as well? Is this really England?”
    Sidney choked, the grasp of the large hand uncomfortably tight and threatening to cut off his breathing. He gasped for air. “I have read…things…“ Another gasp and the fingers eased their pressure slightly. “I have an interest in such matters. I am not one of you, and…yes this is England.”
    “And you are not afraid?”
    “Of course I’m afraid. But you could have killed me already.” The hand released Sidney’s throat and he absently rubbed the soreness with his own. “Why have you not fed from me? Drained me of my life fluid? If you were going to, you probably would have done it by now, not considered an offer of dry clothes.”
    A deep sigh emanated from the ragged man. “I wish to end my existence—not feed.”
    “You fell overboard. I would say that was coming close to answering your wish.” Sidney felt a tingle of anger. This young man had so much and yet wished to die.
    “I didn’t fall.”
    Sidney paused at that. “You tried to kill yourself?” He stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Don’t think that would work, lad. You’re already un dead.”
    “I have no home. No family, no friends. I have nothing. I am nothing. What else is there?” He stared at Sidney. “Tell me, old man. Tell me if you know anything of these matters—for pity’s sake—how can I end this torment? How can I finally die ?”
     
     

Chapter Two
     
    It was very late.
    Sir Sidney Chesswell sat in his favorite chair in front of the barely-glowing embers from last night’s fire and considered his “guest”.
    The man had cleaned up very nicely indeed with just a towel and a spare dressing gown. Young—although given his nature that might be misleading—he looked to be in his late twenties. His hair was dark, but not so dark as to attract undue attention.
    His eyes did that.
    Irises so black that they blended with his pupils, giving him an unnerving stare and an unusual feature that would be remarked upon should he interact with others. His speech was cultured, he spoke English with the slightest of accents and it was a pretty safe bet that sometime in his past he’d been a member of the aristocracy.
    Sidney nodded to himself. It was time to find out. “May I ask your name?”
    Full lips curled into a bitter smile. “Once upon a time it was Jadranko Czaplinek.”
    “And if I may be so bold, would you share some of your