Always Hate Me

32. Vampire in the Crypt

Frida groaned. She was dragged by her ankle, her body sliding along the blood-slick tiles. The grip on her ankle was tight but she rolled clumsily onto her side and opened her eyes. Above her she saw an image of Christ on the cross. His mournful expression seemed, to Frida, to be on the brink of turning away from her. She wasn't being saved. The grip on her ankle yanked her roughly and she cried out in pain.

The vampire dragged her down a set of stone steps. Every step knocked her, the stone cracking her back and shoulders. She whimpered, trying to keep her head up. But her vision was spinning. The vampire had taken too much blood. It was exhausting simply to stay awake. Dread filled her mouth with a foul taste. They left the light behind them and Frida was hauled into the shadows. The vampire released her and she heard the sounds of him leaving – but if was too dark for her to see.

Wincing, she reached out – trying to feel the world around her. Her hands encountered cold stone. With effort, she pulled herself up until she was sat with her back propped against the wall. She was panting for breath and her fringe clung to a damp sheen of sweat that coated her forehead. Sounds of carnage and destruction reverberated from above and silent tears slipped down her face. She didn't want to die here.

Slowly, her eyes adjusted to the gloom. It wasn't like a basement, but rather a cavern – of stone and dirt. Niches were cut into the walls.

"Are you human?" A hoarse voice asked from dark. Frida did a sharp intake of breath. She heard movement to her right and turned her head to follow it.

"Yes."

The voice made no reply. Frida listened intently. His voice had sounded quite close, but she couldn't hear any sound of him breathing. "Aren't you?"

"I'm vampire."

Frida covered her neck with her hand. The wound was sticky and wet.

"Are you going to kill me?" Was that why she'd been brought down here? To feed him...

"No."

The sounds from above died down. Frida wondered if there were any other survivors left. Her eyes had adjusted enough that she could make out the shape of her companion. He was sat in a niche in the wall. This niche was different to the others – it was perfect for a person to sit in whilst the others were for lying.

"We're in a crypt, aren't we?" She murmured.

"Sì." Yes. 

Frida brought her knees to chest – shrinking as small as possible. She was locked in a crypt with a vampire. "You're in the Catacombe di San Gaudioso."

"Where are all the bodies?"

"They were removed long ago – due to concerns over public health."

Remembering suddenly, Frida searched her pockets and found her set of keys for the office. Attached to them was a small keyring – which worked as a tiny torch. She clicked on its feint beam and pointed it around her. The vampire hissed- his eyes sensitive against the bright light. Frida blinked in surprise at the sight of him.

"You're hurt?"

He didn't argue. He was slumped in the niche, his head weakly flopped against the wall. He looked closer to a corpse than a man – his skin waxy and grey. "Why?" She didn't understand. Angling the torch's beam, she saw the bite marks on his neck. "I didn't think vampires fed from other vampires."