Northern Wings

It started off as a pretty ordinary Tuesday. A mild, dry autumn day, which seemed a blessing after the recent downpours.  

I stretched out my lunch break, eating my sandwiches on a park bench, for a change.

On my way back to the office, I took a stroll down a quiet street full of lovely old sandstone buildings that house the ‘posher’ shops in town.

I was just turning away from a lingering gaze at the lightweight, folding bike of my dreams, when events took a somewhat dramatic turn.

The street was deserted apart from a man of about my age on the opposite pavement. He caught my eye due to the eccentric way he was dressed; big black sunglasses that the weak sunshine didn’t really justify, an elegant shirt, purple velvet waistcoat, thin black jacket and long grey overcoat.

I remember thinking that he must really feel the cold, to be wearing so many layers on such a mild day, but I tried not to pay him an impolite amount of attention as he bent down to pick up a newspaper that someone had carelessly dropped.

As he did so, a movement to my left caught my attention, as a middle-aged man with bushy grey hair emerged suddenly from a narrow alleyway between two shops. Without seeming to notice me, he pulled something with a metallic glint from his bag, and aimed it at the younger man.

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Some kind of instinct gripped me and I lurched forwards with a yell, slamming myself into the man’s arm and so deflecting his gunshot upwards.

The bullet struck the top right hand corner of the shop window opposite, causing it to shatter with an almighty bang, as both the shooter and his target whipped round to stare at me in horror for an agonising moment, before fleeing in opposite directions.

They disappeared just as the screaming shopkeeper came blundering out into the street. With a gulp of fear, I ran over to her and stammered an explanation. Of course, the police and the local paper wanted to hear my version of events, so I described both men as accurately as I could from the brief glimpse I’d had.

The paper printed a report the next day, describing me only as ‘…a local Council-worker in her early thirties,’ as the police advised them to keep my identity confidential in case this was some kind of gang-warfare scenario. Not that many of those happen in central Manchester in broad daylight!

Even so, it kept me in ‘gossip points’ for days, as everyone in work kept pressing me about it, and I quite enjoyed the attention.

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I’d just about calmed down by Friday morning and was waiting for my computer to boot up while looking forward to a quiet weekend of chatting in pubs and visiting relatives, when reception buzzed up to say there was someone asking for me.

I wasn’t expecting any visitors that day, so felt really puzzled as I made my way downstairs to the foyer.

It was the man who’d been shot at. I recognised him straight away, possibly because with the exception of the sunglasses and distinctive purple waistcoat, he was wearing the same clothes as before.

As I approached, he gave a polite nod and extended his hand. I shook it, feeling startled by how cold the skin was, and he thanked me profusely for saving his life.

‘That man is a good shot, and he intended to kill,’ he explained in an accent I couldn’t place at all.

‘Oh, I just acted on instinct, I suppose,’ I shrugged, not really knowing how to respond.

‘We need to talk in confidence,’ he told me firmly, ‘…there is a possibility that your brave deed could have put you in danger.’

‘Yes, of course,’ I replied, trying to look into his eyes sincerely as I spoke, but somehow finding it impossible.

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‘I will visit you at home, at a time that suits you,’ he said. ‘What is your address?’

Now I’m not in the habit of giving my address out to strange men willy-nilly, and this guy was clearly stranger than most, but in my shock and excitement I just blurted it out. He scribbled in a little notepad, and then pocketed it carefully.

‘Come round this evening, if you want,’ I suggested. ‘I’m free after seven.’

‘I will,’ he nodded with a mysterious, pointy-toothed smile that reminded me of some pop star I’d briefly been into as a teenager.

I was just about to ask his name when he produced the sunglasses from a pocket and pushed them on, turning to leave.

‘It would be better for both of us if you keep this encounter to yourself,’ he told me over his shoulder as he walked away.

I nodded mutely, glancing over at the receptionist, who was busy with an enquirer and hadn’t heard a word.

‘Who was it?’ a colleague asked as I slipped back into my chair.

‘Oh, just some bloke,’ I replied, trying to sound a lot calmer than I felt.

Common sense told me not to answer the doorbell that evening, but of course I ignored it and ran straight down four flights of stairs to the entrance. The man smiled at me warmly as I invited him in. I hadn’t really noticed before how sexy he was. We didn’t speak as we took the lift up to my flat, or in the corridor, but once I’d closed the door behind us, I was burning with questions.

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‘Where are you from?’ I asked, pushing the hair from my face as I slumped against the wall of my open-plan kitchen and living room.

‘I am from Germany,’ he replied. ‘My name is Ludwig.’

It didn’t sound like any German accent I’d ever heard, but I’m no expert on such things. ‘I’m Melissa,’ I told him. ‘Would like you like some wine? Tea? Juice?’

‘No thank you,’ he replied, walking over to the huge, sliding window that lead out onto my balcony.

The nights were closing in, and the hazy amber lights of the city were spread out below us, with the fainter glimmer of pure white stars above. He stood there with his back to me for a moment, looking out at the scene, then turned to face me again.

‘I am new to this country,’ Ludwig explained. ‘The man who tried to shoot me must have followed me here.’

‘Why the sunglasses?’ I asked, realising it was a bit rude to change the subject.

‘I am very sensitive to sunlight,’ he replied expressionlessly.

‘Oh, I see,’ I nodded. ‘I’ve heard there’s some condition like that…’

My voice trailed off because I realised that I was just waffling conversationally, and this was clearly not why this man had come. ‘Will you sit down?’ I asked, feeling suddenly awkward.

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He did, perching delicately on a wooden chair. I sat on the arm of the sofa, facing him.

‘You said I might be in danger?’

‘I am in debt to you,’ he replied gently. ‘You saved my life, and I will do whatever I can to repay that.’

‘However,’ he continued more gravely, ‘my attacker will be very angry that you thwarted him.’

‘Will he come after me?’ I gasped.

‘He will not shoot you,’ Ludwig replied, shaking his head. ‘You acted in innocence, and he has no reason to take revenge. However, there is a strong possibility that he could kidnap you.’

I had a dozen questions by this point, but all I could ask was; ‘Why?’

‘To get at me!’ he replied fiercely. ‘He knows I will come after him, if he touches you. He understands my code of honour.’

‘He will look you up,’ Ludwig continued. ‘The paper said where you work, so it’s only a matter of time. Then, he’ll want to talk.’

‘He’ll tell you I’m evil and deserve to die, and will try to convince you to arrange a meeting somewhere quiet, so that he can appear and kill me.’

‘If that doesn’t work,’ he concluded, ‘he’ll probably kidnap you.’

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‘Who is this man?’ I asked, finding my voice at last.

‘Henning Gont. He is a vampire hunter,’ Ludwig replied.

‘So you’re a vampire!’ I exclaimed.

This whole conversation had now gone very surreal. There I was, shouting; ‘So you’re a vampire!’ at some bloke sitting at my dining table in the same kind of way that I might say, ‘So you’re a footballer!’ or, ‘So you’re that famous writer!’

‘I am indeed,’ he replied calmly. ‘Do you feel that I’m evil?’

 ‘You don’t seem…’ I began, but stopped myself. That’s not what he was asking. ‘My gut feeling is that I can trust you.’

He smiled then, a really expressive grin that seemed to light up his whole face. ‘You certainly can!’ he assured me. ‘I won’t harm a hair on your head.’

So I asked more questions, and he went on to explain that he could walk around in daylight, but not if it was bright and sunny, that he had lived as a human until the age of thirty two, which was when he’d become a vampire, over a hundred years ago.

‘So can you fly? Turn into a bat?’ I asked eagerly.

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He nodded patiently. ‘I will leave here as a bat.’

He stood and walked over to the window again. ‘If Gont contacts you, or you have any kind of news, please summon me,’ he requested.

‘How will I do that?’ I asked, joining him.

‘I can enter this place any night I like, now you have invited me in,’ he explained, ‘…but I will respect your privacy. To summon me, simply leave this window slightly ajar. I will notice, and fly in.’

A thrill ran through me as he said that; I couldn’t help myself. Then, before my eyes, he gave a flick of his long coat and instantly became a fluttering, squeaking bat. I slid the window open and the bat flapped out into the night, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

**
I met some friends for drinks the following evening and I was determined to talk about it all, but I just couldn’t do it. I’ve got a pretty open mind, and have always believed in ghosts, magic and so on, but most people don’t, and I couldn’t work out what to do if they thought I was lying or deluded. So I kept Ludwig to myself.

On Monday evening, I cancelled my vague plans and opened the sliding window to leave a bat-sized gap, before settling down impatiently with a novel. It was gone ten o’clock when he came. I watched the bat flutter onto the rug, then silently transform into a tall, pale man.

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‘What happens to your clothes, when you’re a bat?’ I asked playfully.

‘I’ve never been asked, and honestly haven’t worked it out,’ he replied, looking wryly amused. ‘It must be magic’.

‘Mr Gont came to my office,’ I reported. ‘He was in disguise, and asked me to meet him in a café on my break, so I did.’

I then went on to explain that Gont had told me that Ludwig was a dangerous vampire who was likely to contact me soon, and that he needed to be killed before he could harm anyone. I had pretended to be shocked, and said I’d refuse to take part in any plan he had, on the grounds that I was too frightened.

‘And are you frightened?’ Ludwig asked, taking a step towards me.

 I looked him over for a minute. He certainly had a formidable presence; and those teeth didn’t help. Yet…

 ‘Gont was edgy and arrogant,’ I shrugged. ‘I took an instant dislike to the man. I didn’t want to help him.’ I folded my arms. ‘You said summat about a code of honour?’

‘There is a bond between us,’ he replied quietly. 'You protected me from one of the few people in the world who knows how to kill me, so I will care for you.’

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He was looking at me intently as he spoke. I studied his face properly for the first time. His black hair was very ruffled and textured in a way that wasn’t quite messy. His eyes were a slate purple colour, and his stubbled chin darkly stained with blood.

‘Don’t suppose you can wash your mouth?’ I asked.

He went over to the sink. ‘I had to feed,’ he explained.

‘How?’ I asked, wondering whether this was a foolish question.

He looked up at me, water dripping from his face. ‘Do you ever wonder about human potential?’ he asked, mysteriously. 'Do you ever get excited about what you can do? The power your race has? I have lived a long time, Melissa, and I’ve seen the very best and worst in people.’

I handed him a towel and nodded.

‘I see humans struggling against immeasurable odds,’ Ludwig continued. ‘People with almost nothing. No food or shelter. No clean water. No love. Yet …I also see people with wealth and influence beyond their ancestors’ wildest dreams, drunkenly slumped on park benches, wasting their lives in a haze of intoxication and self loathing, taking their pathetic insecurities out on others …and do you know what I want to do?’

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He stepped over to me then, placing his hands on my shoulders and looking down into my face. ‘I want to bite them. Drain some of that wasted life force. Take it for myself.’

‘I was late coming here,’ he explained, squeezing my shoulders slightly ‘…because I bit such a man tonight. I saw him follow a woman along the canal with violence in his eyes. Lust and loathing. So …I knocked him down.’

‘Humans are twisted,’ Ludwig concluded. ‘They just won’t admit it. They think they are made in the image of God. They are deluded.’

I said nothing. He knew that I knew he was right. That was all the assurance he needed.

‘Can you fly …as yourself?’ I asked eventually.

‘You want to fly with me?’ he replied, eagerly. ‘Come on. I will show you.’

I turned the light off as we stepped out onto the balcony.

‘This is all about trust,’ he grinned, grabbing hold of my hand. ‘If you let go, you fall.’

Before I had a chance to react, he sprang upwards into the cold, dark night, pulling me with him. We soared above the deserted street, level with the rooftops of the solemn brick buildings that survived as a monument to an earlier industrial time, faintly lit by the amber glow of sodium. We swished past all the converted mills with their balconies and roof terraces, and headed out along the canal.

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‘We need to keep away from bright lights,’ Ludwig told me. ‘Stick to dark places. People may look up and notice us pass overhead. They will think it is a bird, or a plastic bag. The power of denial is very strong.’

I could see vague shapes moving along the ground with no colour or distinct form, almost like shadows.

‘Spirits,’ he informed me, as if reading my mind. ‘Some are bound to the place they died. Others move freely. I can see them all.’

‘Can we go higher?’ I shouted, exhilarated.

 We glided beyond the reach of the tallest windows, and I gazed down at the city I’d grown to love and fear. It is a grid of structures from every modern age, separated by streets, trees, and paved and grassy spaces. Within and below the buildings move animals, humans and spirits, each of them restless, incomplete.

We dropped silently onto the balcony and re-entered the dark flat. I let go of Ludwig’s hand with reluctance and turned on the table lamp. It was gone midnight and I’d normally have been in bed, but right then, I felt more awake than I’d been in years.

Ludwig stood expectantly just inside the sliding window, as if waiting for me to speak. I wanted to touch him again, so I moved over and brushed my fingers against his cheek, emboldened by an urge I didn’t try to understand. Reaching up, I allowed my hand to trail through his hair, and then slid it slowly down the back of his coat.

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‘You don’t owe me anything,’ I whispered. ‘No obligations.’

He didn’t reply, but put his arm around me and drew me closer, then began to nuzzle my neck with unexpected tenderness.

‘You’re so warm,’ he murmered into my hair.

I realised that he was irresistibly drawn to my neck, and wondered whether he had to fight an urge to bite. We stood like that, breathing deeply, for some minutes, and then Ludwig pushed me away slightly.

‘You need to know what you’re getting into,’ he said. ‘You have to think about this in the cold light of day.’

‘I’m just acting on instinct again,’ I grinned, giddy with excitement.

‘Getting close to me could change you,’ he explained. ‘You will be energised. Influenced. You’ll notice things most humans chose long ago not to see.’

‘Think about it,’ he urged, taking a step towards the window. ‘Only summon me again when you are sure.’

**
I was sure. I left the window wide open the following evening. He swept in as dusk settled heavily over the city.

As Ludwig scooped me up in a hug, I hooked my elbow round his neck and kissed him eagerly, sliding my other hand under his shirt.

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‘You’re bold!’ he said, sounding amused and slightly alarmed.

‘I’m not normally,’ I giggled, attempting to undo the buttons. ‘It’s been ages since…’

I didn’t get to finish, because he swung me around onto the table; my legs spread either side of his hips, then ran his hands up and down my back, kissing me with a passionate urgency. Then he drew back and smiled at me.

‘You don’t have a man, do you?’

I shook my head. ‘No. Will you sleep with me?’

‘Sleep?’ he asked, puzzled.

‘Oh, you know,’ I explained, flustered, ‘I mean err, go to bed and stuff.’

He started playing with my hair, deep in thought.

‘I want to be your lover,’ he replied, ‘…but you must keep it secret. Most humans would hate and fear me. Do you understand?’

‘Yes of course,’ I nodded, putting my hand on his cheek.

We went to my bedroom and spent hours getting really intimate with each other. There was a passionate intensity about Ludwig that aroused and thrilled me, combined with his eagerness to please. He really seemed to crave my body heat, pressing himself against me constantly, while kissing and nuzzling my face. Eventually, I fell asleep with my arm draped over his chest.

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The alarm clock rudely woke me just a few hours later. The cold, thin sunlight streamed around the edges of the curtains. I was alone.

Cursing, I rushed to get showered and dressed, and then as I went to grab my cardigan from the wardrobe by the door, I spotted a dark, huddled shape in the corner. It was a roosting bat. I smiled and blew a kiss as I left.

A car followed me home from work. I didn’t realise until I was turning into my street and spotted it closing in behind. Worried that someone was stalking me, I ran the last few yards to the door. As I swiped the entry fob, I peered through the car window as it pulled up onto the pavement. My heart skipped a beat. It was Henning Gont.

I cooked a stir-fry and was eating it when the bat woke and transformed into Ludwig.

‘I always sleep as a bat,’ he yawned.

Trembling, I told him about the car straight away.

‘You can’t come here any more,’ I sobbed against his shoulder. ‘Gont will find and kill you.’

‘He is determined,’ Ludwig sighed sadly. ‘There is a history between us. He won’t rest until one of us is dead.’

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‘Can you kill him?’ I asked, hopefully.

‘I can’t bite,’ Ludwig replied.  ‘He will have taken herbs that would poison me. I would have to strike him down at close range. Difficult. He has a range of guns …with silver bullets.’

‘There must be a way,’ he growled, pacing the floor.

Finally, he stopped and knelt by my chair. ‘I will leave here once it is fully dark and fly to London. There are two vampires there. One had dealings with Gont’s accomplice recently …and defeated him.’

‘Are there many vampires?’ I asked, drying my eyes.

‘Not any longer,’ he replied. ‘About a hundred, worldwide. We generally avoid each other, but meet once a year, and have a loose kinship. We agreed some time ago to only bite people once. To keep our numbers low …by not making more.’

‘I was one of the last,’ he added, with a slight smile.

‘Wish I could come with you.’ I ruffled his hair.

‘I need to go alone, as a bat,’ he explained. ‘I will stay away some time. Gont will soon realise I have gone. He will leave you alone and widen his search.’

Ludwig left as soon as it was fully dark. I tried not to cry as he flapped away down the street, because I felt relief that he would be safe for a while, at least.

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**
That was a month ago. I try to just get on with my day-to-day life, like before …but things have changed.

My friends have become boring, frustrating. I find it difficult to take them seriously. They talk about television, clothes and gossip. They put each other down.

I have flown through the air and looked on this city from a great height, and once you’ve done that, you realise how small people are, how each moment is just one brief event that follows hundreds, thousands of years of human toil and experience.

I smell things on people. Sometimes fondness or excitement, but more often jealousy, insecurity and fear. This repels me, and I find myself spending more time alone.

  I’m surrounded by spirits. Some are a vague presence, but others will touch me, talk to me. I roam the hills, parks and streets with spirits following me like a pack of dogs, their bright forms swirling round me as I skip and laugh.

Gont monitored me for a couple of weeks, but gave up and disappeared when he realised that I was never with Ludwig.

I scan the sky every night. I miss him.

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