The Man From Royal Street

The Man from Royal Street

By Philip Fraterrigo

Copyright 2015, Philip Fraterrigo

Smashwords Edition

No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, or stored in any information storage or retrieval system without the express written permission of the author.

Author's Note:

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Cover Photo:

The Dark Side (cc) [silhouette1-fire, water, light]

By Martin Fisch

Marfis75 on Flickr

Original Image Cropped

Table of Contents

Title page

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

About the Author

Chapter 1

The house on Royal Street was not remarkable. Like so many others in the neighborhood, it was built almost a century before and incorporated the Colonial style which had been so popular in its day. Originally, it was a two and one half story wooden frame building with shake shingles covering the upper half but somewhere along the line, it had been covered with white vinyl siding that only served to make it less distinctive. In fact, the only thing that was distinctive about the house was its occupant, William Sutcliffe, who despite having lived there more than eighty years, looked no older than thirty five.

Families rotated through the neighborhood on average about every ten to fifteen years, selling and moving to bigger houses or better neighborhoods so few took notice of the neighbor who they assumed worked nights and slept days and many had never even seen him. So, it was no surprise that no one noticed he hadn't aged in the last eighty years.

He was in fact much older than that, having been turned during the last days of the American Revolutionary War. Under cover of darkness his unit of the Continental Army had carried out what they thought would be a surprise attack upon a British stronghold near Yorktown, but a Loyalist spy alerted the British and they had set a deadly trap. As the soldiers approached the stronghold all was quiet but once they stepped out of the woods and on to the grassy field surrounding the fortifications, they had entered the kill zone and cannon fire erupted from all points along the ramparts. Grape shot filled the air and tore through the ranks of the Continental soldiers mowing them down without mercy. Sutcliffe had been hit and he lay on the battlefield bleeding profusely from a severed artery in his left leg. All around him, the battle continued to rage and he saw other members of his unit fall victim to the withering fire raining down from the top of the British fortifications. In the midst of all this, he saw her approach and thought it was strange that a woman should be on the battlefield in harm's way. Then, he thought perhaps she might be a nurse looking to help the wounded. This was confirmed in his mind when she approached and knelt down to examine his leg. He felt a sense of relief as he waited for her to bandage his wound. A true angel of mercy, he thought but his relief turned to horror as she instead, placed her mouth over his gushing artery and began to gorge herself like a crazed beast.

If she had drained him of all his blood he would have just died but before she could finish, another volley of grape shot somehow tore her head from her body without doing further harm to his leg and he passed out fully expecting to wake up surrounded by angels. Instead, the blood which remained in his body mixed with her saliva and he woke up that night in a makeshift morgue surrounded by corpses.

At first, Sutcliffe thought it was a miracle that he had survived such a horrendous wound and he sat up and looked around at the many bodies awaiting burial. A large number were missing limbs and others, heads or other body parts but all were testimony to the carnage wrought by the night's battle.

Very carefully, he stood up, fearing the loss of blood would cause him to be weak but instead, he felt a renewed sense of strength. He once again looked at the corpses and felt a strange sensation in the pit of his stomach. It was not nausea or revulsion. On the contrary, the shredded flesh and blood caused him to feel something akin to hunger. The thought made his skin crawl.

Just then, a soldier entered the tent and was startled to see another person walking around among the bodies. The soldier mumbled something about identifying a family member and went about his task without giving him another thought.

Sutcliffe watched as the soldier examined one body after another and he began to experience another strange sensation. He could hear a pulsing sound from somewhere in the morgue and he realized it was coming from the soldier. The sound drew him like a magnet and he suddenly felt a terrible hunger. He crept closer and the sound grew louder and he knew it was the sound of the soldier's blood pulsing through his veins. He could no longer control himself and he fell upon the defenseless man and tore out his throat. The soldier kicked twice and then fell to the floor and he was immediately upon him drinking in the blood that flowed from the gaping wound. He had no idea why he was doing this revolting thing. He only knew that he was being driven by some overpowering urge which he could not resist.

He drank until the blood stopped flowing and with his terrible hunger now sated, he rose and fearing detection, made his way out the back of the tent toward the woods. Quietly, he made his way across the short expanse of grass that separated him from the safety of the trees but a sentry was walking his post and spotted him. Halt! he shouted and Sutcliffe froze for an instant. The sentry raised his musket to the firing position and asked him to identify himself. From somewhere deep inside of him arose a murderous animal reaction and he let out a horrible hissing sound and leapt at the sentry who threw down his musket and ran screaming, at the sight of this deranged, blood covered creature with fangs.

The camp came alive with the sound of shouting and he turned and ran full speed toward the trees. He heard muskets firing and the branches around him splintered but he was untouched and ran deeper into the cover of the woods. Branches scratched his arms and face as he fought his way through the thick vegetation until finally he tripped over a heavy vine and was sent sprawling to the ground. How long he had run he couldn't say but now he lay perfectly still, listening. His approach had frightened the night creatures and all around him was silence. He was grateful for the silence as he listened for any sounds that would indicate he was being followed. Suddenly, the silence was broken by the sound of a snapping twig and he looked in that direction.

Sutcliffe thought he could make out the silhouette of a man who was gesturing toward him. Come, said the man, quickly.

Who are you? he asked.

You must move quickly. You are in grave danger. Follow me and I will explain later. Having no other options, he got up and followed the man as he made his way deeper into the woods. He continued on for quite some time and soon Sutcliffe was totally lost and at the mercy of this strange individual.

Where are we going? he asked.

We must hurry. We must reach the cave before sunrise or we will both perish, came the reply.

He had no idea what the man meant but there was genuine urgency in his voice so he moved as quickly as possible and soon they reached the mouth of the cave just as the first rays of the morning sun burst over the horizon. They entered the cave and proceeded into its deeper recesses where the sunlight could not penetrate and the man finally came to a stop.

All around was the smell of dampness and fresh earth and Sutcliffe could see a woman lying on the floor near the wall and he began to fear for his safety. Tell me what's going on, he demanded.

The man looked at him with surprise. I can't believe you have no idea what's going on. He paused for a moment and then continued. My name is Eli. This is Margret, he said pointing in the direction of the woman, Who are you?

My name is William Sutcliffe. I'm a soldier in the Continental Army.

You were a soldier, replied Eli, and now you're dead. Or should I say undead?

What are you talking about? I'm standing here talking to you. How could I be dead?

I don't know how it happened but I can assure you that you are most definitely not alive. Like Margret and I, you are one of the undead. To be more exact, you are a vampire.

The words left him dumbfounded. He wanted to tell Eli he was wrong but the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. How could he feel so strong after losing so much blood and how could he move so easily on a leg that had been so decimated by grape shot? That would also explain his overpowering urge to drink blood. He looked at Eli. It must have been the woman, he said.

What woman?

The one on the battlefield, he replied and he told him what happened after he had been wounded.

That must have been Zeta, said Eli. She was the third member of our group. When she didn't return I grew concerned and went out looking for her. That's when I found you.

Sutcliffe shook his head. I don't think there's any way she's still alive, not after what I saw.

Eli looked grave. Yes. If what you say is true, she's probably dead. We will miss her.

I won't miss her. It's her fault I'm in this situation. I didn't ask to become a vampire!

None of us asked to become vampires! shouted Eli, Do you think I wished this upon myself: to be cursed to roam the night in search of blood, to never again see the daylight, to be feared and hated by those whom I loved?

I guess not but I just don't know what to make of all this. I'm… I'm… his voice trailed off.

Eli softened his tone. Yes, it is very difficult to take in all at once but Margret and I will help you with the transition.

What if I don't want to make the transition?

Then the solution to your problem is just outside this cave. If you wish to end it all, step into the sunlight, said Eli. Then he turned away and laid down on the floor next to Margret.

What are you doing? asked Sutcliffe.

I must sleep now and I suggest you do the same. It is necessary to restore our strength.

Sutcliffe found a spot on the floor and laid down. He was surprised to find it felt comfortable but sleep did not come immediately because his mind was awash with thoughts. On the one hand, the thought of having eternal life, of sorts, sounded appealing but on the other hand, the things he would have to do in order to sustain that life could be revolting. After much thought, he decided to take a wait and see attitude. The sun will always be there if I need it, he reasoned.

Chapter 2

As the sun sank below the horizon that evening Sutcliffe began to stir. He opened his eyes to find Margret looking down at him and being caught off guard, he flinched. Don't worry. I won't bite, she said with a smile.

Oh. No. It's just .. he began to reply before he realized that she was making a joke. Very funny, he finally said.

Margret was a small woman barely five feet tall. Her