Vampire Hunt

Peter Wilks

Description

Ahumorous, vampire-themed fantasy action novel, that shifts between the 17th century and today.

Sujets

• Fantasy (canción de Mariah Carey)
• Fantasy

Informations

• Publié par: Troubador Publishing Ltd
• Date de parution: 01 février 2013
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781780886725
• Langue: English

Extrait

About the author
Peter Wilks has studied law and acting, but now concentrates on writing screen plays and adventure novels.
BY THE SAME AUTHOR
The Grimoire
Midnight Sun
Flash Point
AND FOR CHILDREN
The Foragers
Escape from Below

Copyright © 2013 Peter Wilks
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.
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ISBN 978 1780886 725
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

Matador is an imprint of Troubador Publishing Ltd
Contents
Part I: Tainted Love
Chapter 1 Twilight of the Gods
Chapter 2 Where There’s Smoke…
Chapter 3 Tick Tock
Present Day, England
Chapter 4 Blood Moon
Chapter 5 The Bear and the Lion
Chapter 6 In the line of Duty
Chapter 7 The Heart of the Journey
Part II: Evasive Manoeuvres
Chapter 8 Power and Conflict
Chapter 9 The Conspirators
Chapter 10 Casualities of War
Chapter 11 The Shattering of Dreams
Chapter 12 The Brooding Ghosts
Chapter 13 Vampire Country
Chapter 14 Sting of the Chariots
Part III: Lights, Cameras, Action
Chapter 15 Down among the Dead
Chapter 16 Shadow Game
Chapter 17 Wings in the Darkness
Chapter 18 The coming of Edward Urquhart
Part IV: Odd Man Out
Chapter 19 Vengeance is a Bitch
Chapter 20 The Spiders and the Flies
Chapter 21 Uninvited Guests
Chapter 22 Victory or Doom
Epilogue: Victory or Doom
Part I
Tainted Love
Mid-17th Century, England
Chapter 1
Twilight of the Gods
The brass plaque at the rear of the ship bore the name of The Bloodcrow and built into the bow was the carved, painted figurehead of the large crimson bird. It dipped lower as the prow carved through the calm water. Seagulls keened mournfully and rode the high air currents against the clear blue sky, their shadows flitting above the four masts with vertical spars that supported sails, rigging and flags hanging down limply on the galleass.
Twenty-five guns were interspersed between the forecastle and aftcastle, and below the main deck were cabins, the armoury and unusually three levels of sweeps containing a maximum of sixty-four oars, which drove the vessel on with smooth rhythmic strokes, skirting around the steep, high cliffs of the mainland.
Standing in the crow’s-nest, the burly lookout leaned on the swaying rail with a glazed expression, his eyelids drooping with weariness as he tried to stay awake, failing to notice at first the white speck come into view against the sun sparkling sea. He shook his head to clear his mental cobwebs before becoming more responsive and shouting down to his lethargy crewmates on the gun deck below. A man dunked his head in a drinking barrel to cool himself off and water dripped from his plastered hair as he raised his head.
“Ship ahoy off the starboard bow.”
Feeling the galleass slashing through the water underneath him, the bosun uncoiled his corded whip and lashed out with the cat-o’-nine-tails to enliven the bare-chested sailors amidships, a couple of whom had dark lines on their ragged breeches where they had earlier slept on drying oakum and tar that had been used to seal holes in the deck planking. Not completely snapping out of their trance-like state, the handful of sailors opened a chest containing women’s clothing and accessories, but surprisingly didn’t grumble or swear as they quickly slipped on ruffled petticoats and dresses, tried on hats and opened parasols to shade their stubbled faces.
More compelled seamen appeared from below deck, carrying large amounts of sail cloth, which they unfolded and draped over the cannons to disguise them before lashing down each one with ropes. On the forecastle, an older sailor was using a brass sextant to determine the ship’s latitude and longitude by the angle between the horizon and the sun.
“We’re still holding course, Sir,” he said dully.
Behind him, the taller of two officers encased from head to toe in medieval armour nodded and raised a spyglass to the narrow eye slot ventilating his close helm and trained it on the distance, focusing upon a large, three-masted sailing ship.
“What did the thrall see, Einhorn?” asked the broader man with interest, raising a gauntlet to protect his vision against the after glare of the sunlight reflecting off the half-silvered mirror attached to the sextant. “Is it our target? The Jeanne De Navarre. ”
“It’s a galleon right enough; she’s under full sail and itseems her hold is weighted down with cargo because she’s riding low in the water, Thackeray,” Einhorn replied, watching the galleon’s present course as he measured the distance between them as a sudden powerful rush of wind started to flap the motionless sails and billow them out. “‘Tis suppose to be armed with the demi-culverin cannon, but I can’t tell from this far out.”
“Our ship is faster, ‘twill be an unequal contest.”
Einhorn nodded. “Our presence hasn’t caused the French captain to change the galleon’s heading yet, so that’s a good sign. Send the gun captain to me.”
“I shall tell the oarsmen to crease rowing and rest, now we have our wind again,” Thackeray said in mid turn.
“Aye,” he said, watching the French flag in the spyglass waved gently in the increasing wind. “Alert the captain that we have a sighting of the target and instruct Rourke to set a pursuit course.”
“Aye, Number One.”
* * *
“I feel full of energy and vigour, Cousin,” Nicholas Arden said enthusiastically, glancing at the unfamiliar labour about him, “and with a zest and interest in life that I’ve never had when I was alive. I nay thought that I’d be better off being undead.”
“Thou have joined us at an auspice time yesterevening, Nicholas,” John Foulkes grinned. A head taller than his companion and wider in the shoulder, he slapped Arden on the arm with a gauntlet and guided him along the swaying gangway between the oar benches occupied predominately by bare-chested men, but a good number of young scantly-clad women were sprinkled here and there, their eyes sparkling with unearthly vitality, spared a glance at the approaching pair as they swung their bodies energetically, their arms transferred the weight and power to the motion of the oars. “For this is one occasion we haven’t had to hide and lay in ambush in a cove to attack unsuspecting prey. The information is a few days old, but we learned from a wagon master Einhorn captured that he supplied fruit to a merchant vessel named the Jeanne De Navarre a former queen consort of France, I have been told by Silas. Anyroad, she is sailing the local trade route with a full crew complement that shall have its uses to us, but the reason our ship is even now chasing the galleon down is for its precious cargo of muskets, powder and shot.”
“But John, I have no skill in gunnery or seamanship,” Nicholas said in concern, glimpses of the sea flickered at the edges of his vision through the oar ports. “I be only a miller belike my father before me; what will I and Sarah do onboard thine galleass?”
“Ye must pull thine weight by serving in wherever capacity I choose. Thou will start by manning an oar and learning to fight in an armoured suit belike my marines,” Foulkes replied, coming to a halt and gesturing at an empty space adjacent to four other rowers sitting together on the bench, as swaying ceiling lamps pushed the shadows from his short cropped hair and stubbled face. “I have found room for Sarah in one of the cramped cabins, regardless of thee being my kin I can show ye no such favouritism for the reason my loyal subordinates have served me longer. Sleep on the floor or in a hammock if’n ye can wrestle one off one of my other minions and in time if thee survives to eventually deserve a place among my fittest warriors, thine achievement will earn ye a special privilege that is to be cherished: to feast and doze on land when ever The Bloodcrow makes a friendly port.”
Suddenly the ship’s bell sounded as a series of rapid, successive strokes rang out from the gun-deck running over the rowers’ heads.
“What is that?” Nicholas asked as he sat down and contemplated what his cousin had said. The rowers slowed their bodies in mid-stroke and the endless beat of the oar blades faltered and slipped out of sync as their owners bent over the looms.
“Six bells at this time of the day is the signal for stop propelling the ship, Nicholas,” Foulkes watched as the rowers withdrew the looms into the sweeps, the long wooden poles slid over the laps of the rowers to Arden’s surprise and then the men and women leaned on the oars and panted as they rested. “The wind fills our sails again.”
The ship’s bell echoed once more with a number of strokes.
“And that signal?”
“Nine bells isn’t a signal, it’s a summons for me to return to the bridge,” Foulkes grinned. “The Jeanne De Navarre has been spotted. First I must go to prepare the boarding party.”
* * *
Einhorn glanced to the left as the gun captain, also wearing full-body plate armour, strode heavily to a halt before him. “Volkner, have the men hiding below deck to stand by. Are the cannons already loaded to disable the galleon as Master John wants? Flying the fake colours should hoodwink its captain to permit us to approach her unmolested.”
“Aye! Except for the bow chaser, the other cannons are only cramm