CHAPTER 9.
Charlotte woke on Friday evening to find her bed sheets pulled away and the warm weight of Molly astride her.
“Evening lady,” Charlotte smiled sleepily.
Moll’s fangs shone brightly as she smiled back, then she leaned down, her full breasts touching Charlotte’s and kissed her on the lips, then across her face and down her neck.
Charlotte ran her slender hands up Molly’s legs, then gripped her ass tightly, holding her closer as Molly began biting her neck. She gasped in pleasure for a few moments until Molly released her and turned her head, exposing her neck to Charlotte. Molly wrapped her arms around Charlotte’s back and moaned in ecstasy as her neck was gently bitten.
Then Molly leaned upright again, brushed a few strands of red hair out of her eyes and looked down on her lover’s golden form. She placed a hand on each of Charlotte’s pert breasts, teasing her nipples as Charlotte stroked her thighs, and feeling the heat grow between both their legs.
Charlotte ran her hands up Molly’s back, then sat up right so that her face was against Molly’s breasts. Molly wrapper her arms around her lover and bit at her long slender neck. She gasped as each tender kiss fell on her heaving breasts and began to gyrate her hips, rubbing herself against her.
A minute later and they were lying side by side, face to face, legs wrapped around each other and kissing passionately.
“Charlotte… ” Molly gasped.
“I love you Molly,” she replied
Molly bit her throats, kissed it, then turned around so she lay with her back to her. Charlotte held a breast in each hand and stroked her nipples as she kissed her neck. Then she slowly ran a hand down her stomach until it was between her legs and began to stroke her. Molly put her hands on Charlotte’s hands and rived in bliss until she came.
When she had caught her breath, Molly rolled over and lay on top of her lover. She kissed her lips. Then she kissed her neck and moved down, kissing each breast, then her stomach, then down her right leg and back up, then down and up her left leg before finally settling between her legs and licking her. Charlotte called out Molly’s name over and over again as her came.
They lay breathless in each other arms after that. Stroking each others hair and kissing each others lips.
“Good evening Charlotte,” Molly whispered.
“Very good. I could stay here forever… but we must meet John.”
“When?”
“In five minutes.”
“Shit.”
John sat on his door step, his leather jacket wrapped around him, a black trilby on his head to ward off the rain and his suit case beside him. Molly and Charlotte were late, sometimes he wondered what they always did in the half an hour in which they were suppose to be meeting him. If he was not an ex-military man and an obsessive vampyre, he would just tern up twenty minutes later than they agreed, but he needed to be punctual.
A small blue car drove down the street, he thought it might be Molly, but it drove past him.
He wondered how this holiday was going to work. In theory it was interesting to go to an archaeological excavation, but surely Charlotte would be working in the day, whilst he and Molly slept, and she would need to sleep whilst he was awake.
Moments later, Molly’s car pulled up beside him and he got into the back seat.
“Evening ladies,” he greeted them.
“Evening John,” Charlotte replied.
“Hi John,” said Molly. “Sorry we’re late.”
“No problem. Terrible weather for it.”
“Not good,” said Charlotte. “Hope it improves, digging in the rain is one of my least favourite things.”
“Are you going to be working all day?” he asked.
“Just in the afternoon on the first day, my crew can set up without me… you’ll meet them in the inn tomorrow night. Have to work all day on Sunday, but I can show you the site and any Saxon gold we find at night. I don’t need much sleep these days.”
“Fair enough.”
“Any word from Lloyd?” Charlotte asked.
“No.”
“Are you worried about him?” asked Molly.
“Not really, why?”
“He can’t normally stand to be in France for this long. He might have done something stupid.”
“Am sure he’ll have done something stupid, but I don’t think he’ll have got caught.”
Three hours latter they arrived at a large Tudor building in rural Northumbria called The Prince’s Tavern.
“I remember this pub,” John said as they got out of the car.
“Really?” Molly asked.
“Yes, I was robbed outside of it when I was a teenager, back in the 1700s. I like it though; it was a good night apart from that.”
“Did Bonny Prince Charlie really drink here?” Charlotte asked.
“Prince Charlie drank in most of the pubs,” Molly replied.
They went into the tavern. Thick oak beams supported the ceiling and a well polished claymore hung above a log fire. An elderly couple sat by the fire and three farmers sat a long table near the bar with their sheep dogs at their feet.
Charlotte collected their room keys from the bar and ordered a round of drinks, ale for her and Molly and wine for John, then joined them at a round table near the fire.
Half an hour later, Molly went outside to have a cigarette.
“It’s stopped raining,” she said when she came back inside.
“Jolly good,” said Charlotte, “we could go for a walk to Hadrian’s Wall, it’s only half an hour’s walk for here.”
The land smelt fresh after the rain, and the night air was still and pleasantly cool. They walked along winding country lanes in the starlight, Molly and Charlotte holding hands and John a few paces behind. Charlotte led them to a rusty gate, through it and up a grassy field until the wall stood before them. A vast, crumbling ruin that stretched far across the horizon.
“This is about two thousand years old,” John said. “Nothing that people build now will last that long.”
“I once met a vampyre who remembered when this was built,” Charlotte said. “He said the Caledonians used to sit and watch the Roman build it, and laugh as they toiled. Sometimes the children would creep around at night andhide the Roman’s tools. They spent years on it, and were so proud, and then they would stand on top of it looking down… and all it ever did was slow down a man with a rope by about five minutes.”
“I’m glad I don’t remember the Romans,” Molly said.
“From what I hear,” Charlotte said. “They were like The Nazi’s in slow motion.”
“I’m glad I don’t remember The Nazis either.”
“The Nazis couldn’t have built this,” John said.
“Where abouts are you working tomorrow?” Molly asked Charlotte.
“Just around the corner. There are a few ruins which we think there was a guard tower, or maybe a bath house, we are going to find out.”
“It must be so much more interesting than working behind a bar,” Molly said.
“Its mostly just digging really slowly… and sheep bones. At least you get to meet new people all the time, and hear bands, I’m just digging in the past.”
“I like the past,” Molly said.
“’What is, in the far distance seems to be,
The past, the past alone is true to me’”, John quoted.
“I once meet Goethe,” Charlotte said flippantly, “he was quite funny.”
Molly lit a cigarette. John looked up and down the fortified wall, trying to imagine being a Roman soldier or a Caledonian climbing over in the night.
“Its getting cold, can we go back to the pub?” Molly said.
“If you wish,” said Charlotte.
They returned to the pub in time for last orders. After a last drink, they all went up to Molly and Charlotte’s room for coffee. After that John decided to leave them alone and get something to eat in his room.
“Rest well,” Charlotte said as he wished them a good night. “I have a surprise for you tomorrow evening.”
Charlotte woke at midday. Kissed a sleeping Molly on the cheek then rolling out of bed and putting on a pair of sunglass to protect against the light coming through the curtains. She dressed quickly, putting on delicate underwear then jeans, an army surplus jumper, boots, a brown leather waist coat with a lot of pockets and a battered bushman’s hat for further protection from the sun and the elements.
Good thing I work in a trade where everyone wants to look like Indiana Jones, she thought.
Then she grabbed a bag of tools and books and went down into the tavern for a fried breakfast and a couple of cups of coffee. After that she got in Molly’s car and drove to the site of the dig.
Her team were already at work. Two students, Tom and Holly, were digging the last of the turf off a ten by ten foot patch of ground and Doctor Stan Oaklea, the junior archaeologist, was stood by a collection of complicated Magnetic Survey machines. The area was fenced off with rope on metal poles and a camp kettle stood over a small fire.
“Hello Professor,” Tom greeted her.
“We’re on site lad, call me Charlotte,” she said, tipping her hat in a theatrical salute. “Found any Saxon Gold yet?”
“No.”
“Any sheep bones?”
“No.”
“Good… Tom, get me some more coffee. Stan, get that damned Magnometer going, let’s pillage some dead Romans!”
John woke at sunset in his cosy tavern bed with its feather soft mattress. After making himself presentable, he went down to the tavern’s bar.
In the bar he saw a few of the locals, then a table occupied by two muddy teenagers and a man with a beard, in a broad brimmed hat. Archaeologists. On the table next to them was Molly, Charlotte and a singularly striking young lady.
She was of medium height and slim build, with the unmistakable pallor of someone who was either a vampyre or really wanted to be one. She wore an ankle length black dress, sensible shoes, white lace gloves and a black and white bonnet over dark hair which was tied back in a bun. Her face was sleek and her eyes bright and animated.
His first thought was that she was remarkably attractive, and his second thought was they she looked remarkably out of place in her earthy surroundings. It looked like she had taken a wrong turning in a dance hall a hundred years ago, found herself at the table, and was far too reserved to comment on it.
“Evening, John,” Charlotte greeted him. “This is Miss Victoria West, Miss West, this is John Harvey.”
She offered him a delicate hand which he took and kissed, in the manner in which his past lives had accustomed him.
“A pleasure to meet you,” he said to her, slightly embarrassed.
“Delighted,” she replied mildly.
He took a seat in the empty place facing her, but was completely unable to think of anything to say to her. A barmaid came over and took the orders for their meal; Charlotte’s dinner and breakfast for the rest of them. He still could not think of anything to say to her, so he asked Charlotte how the dig had gone.
Molly had heard this several times before, so she went out for a cigarette. She found the two students stood against the stone wall of the tavern. Holly was smoking a black Russian cigarette and Tom was trying to smoke a pipe.
“Do you work with Charlotte?” she asked them.
“Yes, we work for Professor Charlotte,” Holly replied.
“So you’re archaeologists then?”
“I’m working on the beard, and my hat is in the post,” Tom said.
“Seriously?”
“Seriously,” he looked a bit upset.
“…so we established that it was a guard tower,” Charlotte continued. “We found a Roman coin, and lots of chicken and sheep bones. Hopefully we will find more tomorrow. Doctor Oaklea thinks we’ve found a secret shrine to Mithras and expects us to find sacrificed human remains.”
“On what basis does he make that assumption?” Victoria asked.
“Absolutely nothing at all,” Charlotte said, then turned to John. “Victoria is a journalist for History Today, we have known each other for quite some time.”
John wondered if ‘quite some time’ meant a few years or a few centuries, he also wondered if ‘known each other’ meant ex lovers or business associates, with Charlotte it could be either. In addition, he wondered if Victoria was the surprise he had been told to prepare for, and decided that she probably was, and that it was his cue to talk to her.
“What brings you to Northumbria?” he asked her.
“Charlotte invited me, and I rather fancied a holiday.”
“Have you travelled far?”
“Just popped up from York.”
“Are you here for long?”
“Just tonight and tomorrow night, and yourself?”
“The same…”
He was interrupted by the arrival of the food and Moll’s return from outside. Charlotte and Molly made a bit of small talk during the meal, but John could think of little to say. He sipped his wine and admired Victoria’s fine features and the way her eyes constantly darted around. As she ate, she noticed that she had unusually pronounced fangs, which he found very attractive.
“May I get you a drink?” he asked her, when the meal was over.
“How kind,” she replied with a smile. “Glass of rosé please.”
Doctor Stan was at the bar, ordering ale.
“Hear there is a shrine to Mithras by the wall,” John greeted him.
“Have you now! I was thinking just the same thing! You know, hidden shrines to the Soldier’s God are far more common than people think. All over the place, don’t you know!”
“So I hear, excuse me… Glass of red and a glass of rosé please… cheers.”
He returned with the drinks.
“Thank you, sir,” Victoria beamed.
“My pleasure lady.”
“I have to go and brief my crew,” Charlotte announced. “They are drinking far too slowly!”
Charlotte and Molly left the table, went to the bar to order six bottles of wine then sat with the other archaeologists. John and Victoria were left alone.
“Would you like to go for a walk after these drinks?” John asked.
“Yes, that would be jolly. There is a rather quaint grave yard not too far from here.”
It was a cool night, but the shy was clear and a thousand stars shone down on them as they walked. Before too long they came to a tall church with a high spire, surrounded by grave stones, most of which had decayed over the centuries.
As John pushed open the creaking iron gates he was glad that Victoria had introduced him to ‘a nice vampire girl’ rather than a thoroughly evil one who could not step on holy land. They walked to a tall yew tree in the middle of a grave yard where there was a view of the church and the hills beyond. John took off his jacket and lay it down for them to sit on.
“I like it here, it’s rather peaceful, “Victoria said.
“Very quiet,” John agreed.
“It is good to be away from all the people, living ones at least.”
John began to understand why she had looked so out of place. A historian who dressed decades out of fashion and preferred the company of dead humans to the living. She seemed to be one of the vampyres who remembered the past so well that they were uncomfortable in the present.
“John Harvey?” she asked, taking a cigarette from her jacket, fitting it to a small ivory cigarette holder and lighting it.
“Yes?”
“Where you by any chance around during the Napoleonic Wars? Under the same name?”
“Yes, yes I was,” he wondered if he had already met her, but he did not think so.
“I thought so. It is strange how we often keep our names… My grandfather used to talk about you.”
“Really?”
“Yes, he said you took one of Napoleon’s Eagle Standards in Spain, he was very fond of you.”
“It was not I who took the Eagle,” he replied grimly.
“My grandfather said that you took it, very bravely, then you let some drunkard called Captain Lloyd take the credit. I could not understand why, but I always thought it was very sweet and modest.”
“It was complicated. Lloyd helped me to take it, I owed him…”
“It was very noble. My grandfather said it was foolish, but I think he thought it noble also.”
“Thank you, lady. May I ask who your grandfather was at that time”
“My grandfather was Sir Arthur Wellesley, the Duke of Wellington.”
John was so overjoyed he wanted to embrace her. He was sit with The Duke’s granddaughter, and she thought he was noble. He wanted to hold her, to kiss her, to… but he could not bring himself to touch her.
“I am honoured, lady,” he said instead.
“My pleasure.”
“Your grandfather was a great man.”
“Indeed. I miss him. I miss those days. Queen Victoria on the throne, the Empire stretching across the earth, the innovation, the progress.”
“I would not know. I missed it. Do you remember any other times?”
“Yes, I was alive around The Great War, but not for terribly long.”
“I missed that too.”
“Maybe. A lot of us do not remember being alive then, so many lived lives which were so short and brutal. I liked it, apart from when the men died, and the Twenties were fabulous, mostly.”
She looked away from him and up at the stars. Far off, a fox cried. A distressing and mournful sound.
“I do not like this world, John,” she said at last. “It is not the world we fought for.”
He took her hand in his. She flinched a little, then looked at him and smiled, holding his hand.
“It is the only world we have for now lady,” he said. “We shall only live in it once, we ought to make the best of it.”
“You are right,” she said, but her voice did not sound happy.
After a few minutes they left the grave yard, walking hand in hand along silent country roads until they reached the tavern
“The bar will be closed now. Would you like to join me in my room for a drink, perhaps a bite to eat?” he asked her.
“Thank you, but it would not be proper for me to be alone in a gentleman’s room.”
John cursed himself, he should have known better.
“However,” she continued, “I very much look forwards to seeing you at breakfast tomorrow.”
“I look forward to it also,” he said, raising her hand and kissing it. “Good night, lady.”
“Good night, sir.”
John Harvey dreamed.
In his dream he saw himself fighting on the field of Agincourt…
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