Belle Morte Bites (Belle Morte 4.3)

Blitz Spirit

London 1940

The Tube station was packed, thousands of people lying head to toe on the platforms – on the tracks themselves.

Ludovic de Vauban pressed himself against the stone wall, and closed his eyes. Twenty-two years had passed since he'd left the horrors of the trenches, and over those decades, he'd thought he was getting over his shell-shock. But being down here, with all these people . . . it was bringing back things that he didn't want to think about.

The stench was unbelievable. There were no facilities in which to wash, and only four buckets behind screens to act as toilets – for thousands and thousands of people. Every time the thump of a falling bomb sounded, someone screamed.

Suddenly, Ludovic couldn't take it anymore. He pushed through the crowd, fighting back the familiar, old panic, until he was out of the station and standing on the streets of London.

But things weren't any better out here.

The ground shuddered beneath his feet as the planes soaring overhead dropped their terrible cargo, followed by the sound of blasted brick and shattering glass and roaring fire.

Shrapnel peppered the street, and Ludovic covered his head with both arms, pressing his back to the nearest wall. He couldn't even tell which direction it was coming from. The destruction was everywhere.

When he'd first heard the news that war was returning, he'd thought that Edmond had been right, after all. He'd said that even when the Great War ended, another one would come along, because it always did. No one had expected it to be so soon, though. And this war was proving to be very different to the one that Ludovic had fought. This time, the war had come home.

Ludovic hadn't signed up to fight this time – he couldn't – but maybe it wouldn't have made a difference even if he had. London had become a blazing hellhole.

Pushing off the wall, Ludovic walked away from the Underground, hoping to find another shelter, one with fewer people.

As he turned a corner, firemen and auxiliary nurses rushed past him. Here, the fires raged out of control, solid sheets of flame so hot they seemed to boil the air. Further down the street, a building had come down, and above the roaring flames, Ludovic heard the awful cries of trapped, crushed people.

He froze.

The last thing he'd ever wanted was to be in another war, but it had come anyway, ripping through the country he'd come to call home. All those years ago, in the trenches, he and Edmond had helped to save so many lives, using their vampire strength to free trapped soldiers, and carry the injured to safety.

Was Edmond fighting in this war, too?

Ludovic had no idea. But as he watched the firemen trying desperately to tackle the blaze, he realised that he couldn't just stand here and watch. He'd seen them fighting these fires before, and so often it seemed like a losing battle – as soon as they got a fire under control, another bomb would hit the same place and start the fire all over again. Or else it would strike the building next door and start a new fire. It was relentless.

The old fear roared through him, and he swayed, steadying himself with a hand on the wall.

Blood and mud . . . pieces of bodies . . . falling shells . . .

He forced the trenches from his mind.

Maybe this would undo all the progress he'd made regarding his trauma, but people were dying.

Ludovic ran to the firemen.

The ground shuddered with explosions beneath his feet as the merciless bombing continued. He'd almost reached the firemen when he heard the familiar whistle of a falling bomb, followed by the awful silence as it drew nearer to the ground. The explosion seemed to shake the world. The ground heaved, fire blazed in a bright flash, and a vast column of street and earth surged into the air, raining debris all around. Ludovic was thrown off his feet. He slammed into the wall behind him, and fell to the ground.