Sticks and Stones
Originally posted on Tales of the Parodyverse by Manga Shoggoth.
Parodyverse characters copyright (c) 2009 to their creators. The use of characters and situations reminiscent of other popular works do not constitute a challenge to the copyrights or trademarks of those works.
The Isle of Wight.
Known to the Romans as Vectis, a small island on the fringes of the empire; the last bastion of the British Isles (although they weren't called that then) to hold out against Christianity; well beloved of Queen Victoria (and hence a large number of other Victorians, such are the effects of royal patronage). A sleeply little tourist resort, which still gathers about itself the shreds of Victorian elegance.
And thus, the island was considered a prime target for a novice group of vampires, who probably never got past the spelling of the word byronic, let alone the meaning.
Of course, their actions were noticed. Small communities tend to notice these things faster than the large towns and cities. The laity spoke to the Vicar; The local Vicars spoke to the Bishop; The Bishop spoke to the Archbishop; The Archbishop did not speak to the General Synod as it was hard enough to imagine them believing the articles of the Christian faith, let alone the existance of vampires. Instead, the Archbishop had a word with Sir Mumphery Wilton; Sir Mumphery Wilton had a quiet chat with the Reverend James Harlsden of St Eustachius, Seven Dials; The Reverend Harlsden, whose semi-retirement seemed to be overstocked with undead these days, had a rather pleasant drink (one latte, one herbal tea, selection of biscotti) with an ecclesiastic collegue known to frequent the better comic shops of Soho.
Ebony had one or two things to say, but they were mostly under her breath.
* * *
Although the undead were not exactly Ebony's field, she was not a complete novice. True, she was no Buffy, but that was something of an advantage – the more flamboyant vampire hunters were fairly predictable and tended to be brought down quite easily. Ebony, on the other hand, was not exactly predictable. She also had a zero tolerence policy and wasn't afraid to use it, and was a specialist in finding unusual ways to stick scewdrivers in the fabric of reality. As a result, the bulk of the vampires were swept up fairly easily.
Their leader, on the other hand, was sightly more difficult. He was a master vampire - not quite in the ranks of the elder vampires, but trying to force entry (the only way) into that select stratum. Such creatures were tricky to kill at best. A simple stake through the heart was not going to cut it.
Instead of going into a prolonged hunt, Ebony decamped to Brook, wandered out in the bay and out to Hanover Point, sketched an intricate design on a flat area of rock near the low tide mark (next to a few pawprints formed in the very rock itself), and then sat down on one of a group of strange, roughly cylindrical rocks for a chat with an old aquaintance.
The tide rose and fell several times. The chalk marks refused to wash away, and the coastguard got the message after the second rescue attempt (they also received a mysterious donation in Spanish dubloons several days later, but that, perhaps, is another story).
Eventually, on a stormy spring tide at midnight, the master vampire came to take his revenge.
The priestess was still sitting on one of the cylinrical rocks, like a maiden sitting on the fallen columns of a ruined greek temple. There, the resemblence ended.
"Well, priestess?"
"Well, what?" she retorted. "I'm busy."
The vampire paused. This wasn't quite the response he had been expecting. "Well, did you think I would let you get away with slaughtering my minions?"
Ebony gave this due consideration. "No. Now buzz off - I'm trying to have a civilised conversation."
The vampire laughed. "You think the ruins of a temple will be holy enough to weaken me?. Or perhaps you think your summoned creature will come your aid?".
He gestured, and a bolt of lightning struck the rock, shattering the circle and incidentally splintering away one of the footprints. "That's going to annoy the local paeleontologists." commented Ebony.
The ghostly shape that had been held within the shape drifted over to the priestess, and then flowed into the rock that formed her perch.
"Well, if you expect the seas and the tide to do your job, you are sadly mistaken. Running water might have been a problem, but it appears that the tides and currents don't count."
Ebony's response was to strike the rock she was sitting on, knocking free several small chunks of rock. She shimmied off her seat and picked up the most dagger-like piece.
"Oh please!" exclaimed the vampire as they slowly circled. "Even the rankest novice knows to use a stake these days. Some of them even try karate as well. What do you expect to do with a lump of stonugh..."
At this point, Ebony lunged forward, pinning him against the fallen stone column that she had been sitting on. "Did you know..." she said in an almost conversational tone, "...that many millions of years ago, this was all forest? These stones were fallen trees, washed down river, covered in mud, then eventually swallowed by the seas, transmuting over the millenia to rise again as stone."
She stepped back, leaving the vampire pinned against the rock. "The Boss took me here for advanced training on a couple of occasions. I got on rather well with the local spirits, actually. You can stop struggling, by the way. The Spirit of the Ancient Forest will be able to hold you for some hours before it disapates."
The vampire laughed. "Clever! However, if you expect the dawn to do your work for you, then you have miscounted the hours. Unless you were expecting me to drown?"
Ebony smiled the smile she usually reserved for her brief theological discussions with high priests. "No. That would be an exercise in futility." A wave broke over the rock, harbringer of the rising tide. "You vampires consider yourselves to be the royalty of the unliving. But in the deeps there are unliving creatures that are ancient even by the standards of this universe. And they don't like humans very much..."
A wave washed over the rocks, and she was gone.
When the tide fell again, the rocks were empty.
Notes:
On the south-western face of the Isle of Wight there is indeed the remains of a petrified forest (or, more correctly, a petrified log-jam) and some dinosaur footprints. They are accessable on a low spring tide, although most of the footprints have been vandalised, stolen or damaged. This does indeed annoy the local paeleontologists.
Forest Week: Sticks and Stones · Manga Shoggoth · Sat Aug 22, 2009 at 04:30:48 pm EDT
· Sun Aug 23, 2009 at 02:06:13 am EDT