Chapter 12: Flight

The count had been lying when he’d said he couldn’t carry them both. he rigged up a sling from his oversized cape, and lay them both in it, along with the trenchcoat, whom he’d wounded to within an inch of his life. He was angry, and his rage was making him hungry, but he resisted the urge to feed. There’d be time enough for that later. RIght now he needed to get these two kids out of the cold to safety. He was going to fly them back to the castle, patch them up then move them out, then he heard the rotor. A helicopter was approaching. He stared in the direction the sound was coming from, and gradually it came into view through the gloom. He could see it clearly, make out the face of the old man who piloted it, realise there was only one other person in the craft. He could take them both out if he had to, so he’d take the risk. The door slid open as the helicopter drew closer. The count hefted his sling, stretched out his thick, leathern wings once more and flew straight upwards. He had the door closed and his wards placed gently at the rear of the helicopter before the young man, who had never seen anything like it and probably never would again, could gather his wits.

The count was fuming. He kept on muttering things under his breath that the terrified man couldn’t hear, but could still feel threatened by. The man’s piercing blue eyes were still wide with shock. He stayed in his corner of the craft, which was exactly where the count wanted him.

The count looked towards the cockpit, thought a little, and started heading towards it. The helicopter was a big one, probably procured from some military surplus, but empty apart from a row of seats along each wall. He paused as he took this in, then he turned back towards where Ell lay, on the rubber coated floor of the chopper. Ten was draped over Ell, who was unmoving. The count bent over and felt for a pulse. It was there, but it was very weak.

“Stay with him”, he said to Ten.

He needn’t have bothered. she wasn’t about to leave him. He said a few more words to her. His voice was gentle, in the way an approaching storm is beautiful before it reaches you. He got up and went to sit with the pilot. The elderly man had wisps of white hair sticking out of his head in every direction, and a smile on his face.

“What are you so smug about?” the count asked, unkindly. His body was still healing and pain made him testy. He was going to have to feed soon. Trenchcoat would probably be disgusting yet filling, he thought, as disgusted with himself for that thought as he was at the thought that his Dhampyr self could still feel pain.

The old man looked up at him.

“Oh, nothing,” he said jovially, before his face clouded over. “The young man looks like he has no right to be alive.”

“You noticed that, did you?” the count replied. “I haven’t told them I don’t know who owns this helicopter or where we’re going. You need to spill, and fast.”

“No.”

The count’s fangs popped out involuntarily, but he kept his voice down. The old man didn’t flinch.

“What do you mean? You’re just going to keep flying us heaven knows where without telling us?”

“Yes. That is exactly what I intend to do. You know you can easily disable both me and young Trieste back there so I have no reason to even attempt to fly you into a situation you will not appreciate. Now go away. You’re distracting me.”

The old man reached down and gathered together an old newspaper which had fallen between the seats and folded it neatly before tucking it in a little satchel that was close by him. The newspaper seemed to be glowing slightly. The count stood quietly by and allowed him finish before asking his questions again.

“The Physics Institute in Bucharest. After that we shall head to the place where the person that wants to meet the young ones there wants us to go.” The twinkle faded from the man’s eye. “Do you think the boy will be alright?”

“Yes, I think he will be,” he replied.

___________

EllFromHell: Call me EllCat, cos this little dude’s got nine live y’all!

Ell got a slap from Ten for his literary endeavours. They were in a smallish office. Ell was still reeling from the effects of Ten’s healing factor.They were sitting on comfortable yet threadbare leather seats. There was a rather large desk between them a beefy man with the most incredible beard. A winged tattoo showed just beneath his shirt collar, which was unbuttoned at the top. He was talking to the count.

Ell and Ten ignored the mass of things on the table when Ell started to point at the posters on the wall. “What’s the Fuss About Higgs?” one said. “How Thick Must You Be?” another proclaimed, with a drawing illustrating the radioactive stopping power of a block of lead. The one that caught Ten’s Eye was a diagram of an atom more detailed than any she had ever seen. Ell wanted to get up and go over to explore the poster, but he was too weak to do anything but lay his head on Ten’s shoulder.

The beefy man stopped talking to the count and looked around the office, a slightly bemused smile on his face. Trenchcoat was handcuffed and under the watchful eye of Trieste, who had rediscovered his purpose on this trip and held a pretty menacing looking gun in the easy way of a professional shooter. The old man was buried in his newspaper – and looked like he was trying to stay out of sight. The newspaper was glowing, and the beefy man noticed that. But then again, nothing about the rabble in front of him was normal. He’d just engaged in a long and meaningful conversation with a vampire for goodness sake, and he’d arranged to provide him with the plasma he’d need if he was to do without feeding on someone present.

He tore himself away from his thoughts and looked at Ell, who was drifting away as Ten rubbed his scalp through the matted curls of his afro.

“Ellian, there’s someone in Geneva who would like to meet you,” he said in heavily accented English.