I quickly scanned the deck locating the red giant sitting on his crate near the staircase leading to what I presumed to be the captain's chambers.
"Oy," I called out to him as I quickly walked to stand by his side. "So do I just leave this here then and be on my way?"
"Nay lad! Cap'in had specific orders. We bring up them crates and wait with 'em 'till he tells us to leave."
"And when might this captain of yours decide to show his face some of us are really hungry!!"
"No need to shout man. 'Ere's the cap'in now." I turned in the direction of his pointing finger expecting to see Johnny Depp followed by his buccaneers, instead I laid eyes on an immaculately dressed gentleman covered shoulders to toe in an Armani suit accented with Cartier cufflinks and the most expensive looking gold Rolex I've laid eyes on this century. He was followed by two highly armed men whom I can only presume to be his bodyguards. All the while I kept thinking a captain of a cargo ship decked out in Armani and followed by men trained to kill on sight was not normal. What the hell kind of ship did I get myself into?
He paused when he spotted me. I tried to look as nonchalant as I could but I could tell from his puzzled gaze and his sharp stare this would not end well.
He approached us slowly and with a brief glance at the red giant he turned and faced me.
"What are you doing on my boat?" The captain said.
"I beg your pardon?" I ask.
"What are you doing on my boat?" He repeated in a nerverackingly calm manner.
I don't know if it was his deathly stare, his absolute lack of fear or his super guard that stood beside him idly polishing his weaponry, but I was terrified of him. I blame it on my hunger of course, but I cannot deny that a part of me wanted to fling the box as far as I could, run across the Atlantic so I can crawl under my bed, suck my thumb and cry shamelessly.
I placed the crate on my hip and pointed to it, "I was unloading sir. That is what you hired me for, is it not?"
He looked at me, still unblinking. He continued to stare, making me even more nervous. Finally he blinked.
Looking down to pull on the cuff of his sleeve he asked, "What’s your name?"
"Russell Rothechilde," I answered automatically, before I realized that I had given my rightful name.
His ears perked up and he stood straight to look at me with curiosity and intrigue like he found a precious artefact to which only he has a claim. "Rothechilde," he said, letting the name roll down his tongue, "as in, the Rothechildes of Lancashire?"
I nodded. Shit, he's a history connoisseur. Little known fact about my family, the Rothechildes were the lords of Lancashire for centuries until the Scottish takeover lead by that fool of a man Bonnie Prince Charlie. Of course the English won that war but my father being third cousin twice removed to the bonnie prince decided to support his side of the war, thus being tried with treason and leaving our family name in shame, we were pretty much forgotten, especially since the name Rothechilde had supposedly died with me, well unless you’re counting the Dutch bankers, whom barely pass as Rothechildes these days.
He smiled. "It's funny. I was told that the Rothechilde's legacy died with their bankrupt and famously homosexual," he paused and looked me from head to toe, "son." He finished.
Now in my defence I am not homosexual, I was caught sucking the blood of William Beckford once who was very openly homosexual and from the position of his neck in my mouth, not to mention his hands gingerly caressing the back of my head, I can see how rumours of Lord Rothechilde's flamingly homosexual son could have started.
I cleared my throat, "my parents were eccentric; they were singlehandedly trying to bring back names of the past. My sister for example is named Jane Austen."
I'm a terrible liar and he knew it. He looked at me, his eyebrows lowered, his lips curved into a smirk and his eyes opened wide as if he wanted to take in everything that was going to happen, as if he was going to enjoy it.
I placed the crate in front of me creating a barrier between me and his henchmen. With my burning hunger, the fact that I hadn't fed in over a week and my dwindling strength I knew I'd be dead within seconds of revealing my true self. I had no choice but escape or face my death, again.
His eyes fell on the crate, "I don't like thieves," he said in that same monotonous I don't give a fuck voice.
"I'm not stealing from you." I said but he arched his eyebrow.
"And yet," his eyes fell on the crate again.
I went to lower it when a movement caught the corner of my eye.
He caught my pause and smiled. "I love it when I'm right." He then turned to the deadly figure beside him, "kill him, but make it gory. It's been a while since I've seen an extremely graphic death; Jasper!"
The red oaf, whom I'd all but forgotten, stood up, "ay cap'in?"
"Bind his hands."
"Ay sir." He came up beside me. "Sorry mate, buh duties call yeah. No hard feelings?"
I shook my head. I am a vampire for fucks sakes, yet I saw no possible way to escape the inevitable, hungry or not, unless I had a distraction I'd never get off this damned boat.
I slowly lowered the crate and watched as my executioner stood in front of me with a long machete he was buffing, leaving a gleaming sinister shine. I noticed that there was something crawling around behind him, a pair of glowing green eyes.
"Boris," I whispered.
“Did chu say somefink?” The red oaf asked.
“Just the lord’s prayer,” I answered. He had my hands behind my back and was proceeding to put that itchy brown rope around my wrist. I looked over to where Boris was but he had run away by then. Go on rat, save yourself, I thought.
Suddenly there was a shout admitting out of the captain's mouth, "OWWWW HOLY FUCK A DUCK!!!!"
"Wha' happened cap'in?" Jasper called from behind me.
"It bit me; it fucking bit me!”
“Wha’ did sir?”
“A fucking rat! The nasty bastard, where is the fucking rodent? Find it so I can squish it between my feet!"
The machete toting asshole, so blessedly distracted stood with his head turned away from me.
Now's my chance I thought, and without second guessing my intentions, I kicked the crate with all my strength and was surprised to see it rise up and accurately collide with the back of his head. He passed out instantly. Upon seeing his colleague flat on the floor the gun toting goon pulled out his pistol and aimed it at my face. Feeling my fangs spring out from between my gums, I ran towards him. I jumped up in mid air and swung my hands under my feet to bring them before me and scooped down to slice the rope from my wrist using the passed out henchman’s machete. The gunman fired his first shot which I dodged. Despite the fact that I hadn't fed I was able to keep my speed. I reached him before he could take a second shot and bit him in the jugular. His salty blood filled my mouth and I breathed in the scent of him, fear, sweat, and the scent of being alive ran throughout his body filling my senses. I sucked harder, swallowing faster than I've ever swallowed before. He was trying to hold me off but I was stronger, soon he stopped fighting and within thirty seconds he was limp in my hands.
I detached my fangs from his neck, still hungry but more acutely aware of my surroundings. I saw everyone was more distracted by the captain searching the floors to notice one of their crew members was sucked dry. I felt a scratch at my ankle and saw Boris, that dang rat, sitting on my shoe. I quickly grabbed him and put him in my shirt pocket while at the same time the captain looked up to see his executioners immobile and me, blood dripping down my face. He went white with shock, and I took that as my cue to escape. I turned to make a run for it when Boris stuck his head out, sniffing in the direction of the crate. Seeing as he hadn't led me astray yet, I scooped it up on my way down the boat, past the red oaf who looked dumbstruck and down the plank onto the docs all the while feeling the newly digested blood work its way through my system, mixing with my adrenaline.
It was a rush as I ran down the docs, a blur of invisibility to anyone who would happen to look my way. However, I couldn't help but feel a growing dread in my gut that I'd just wholly floundered and somehow this night was going to incidentally come around and bite me in the ass.
Welcome to America, indeed.
