He ran as fast as he could, his broken left leg reducing him to a hop and a limp. At 10:00PM, the streets of the suburban district in Abuja were practically deserted, even if there were people, it would have been a bad idea asking them for help considering his present predicament.
Apart from the broken leg, his bleeding neck was a spot of bother. He thought about what had brought him to this very moment, only a demon fighting pastor would believe him.
The visions were coming in fast now. He was seeing things in flashes no one in his fathers generation had obviously seen. White men in brown khaki, barely clothed men in massive wrought iron chains.
He tried to wonder if he had seen ‘Amistad’ recently.
These visions didn’t feature Sir Anthony Hopkins though.
Somehow, he knew they weren’t his memories. All he wanted to do was run. Somewhere above him, on the roof of one of the many well built apartment blocks or semi-detached duplexes that lined the streets was his chaser.
If he lived through this he was definitely changing churches and Babalawos. Neither warned him about a floating man with fangs.
Earlier, he had tried hiding behind the first row of garbage bins he saw after scaling the fence of the vampire’s house, the strange man had appeared right beside him within moments.
For no apparent reason his thoughts seemed rational, coupled with the visions of Mr. Pursuer, he figured he would be besides himself or at the very least running scared.
Oh well it was only the little matter of escaping from the inevitable claws of a hungry vampire who’s house he had just tried to burgle.
If he was dinner this fellow was hell bent on playing with his food, something he knew his probable Mother vampire taught him never to do.
The burglar just wanted to get to the end of the street, that was all that mattered. He moved as best as he could, trying to avoid the street lights, hugging the fences that lined the streets. Moving was difficult especially with his leg but he had to move, the visions were more lucid now. A Plantation, more black people in chains but this time clad in western clothing, then a pale caucasian woman, her fangs caught in the moonlight just before she buried them into his pursuers neck, the pain was being replicated, seemingly, centuries away in this present time as he felt the throbbing in his neck, the loss of blood robbing him of the strength he needed.
The Vampire was enjoying this, staying just a few feet behind his prey, savouring his memories as he waited for the right moment to strike. Moments like these ensured he at least shared a profound connection with his dinner just before he fed.
It had been long since he fed like this, having been holed up in the mansion for years and feeding on stockpiled animal blood.
Here he was, presented with an opportunity to exercise his inactive abilities.
His co-inhabitants in the mansion (vampires as well, obviously) had sensed his movements and had been startled. They were primed to move but a single telepathic signal had calmed them, warding them off, ensuring they did not interfere with his hunt, this would be his alone to savour.
The burglar was finally 200meters away from the end of the street. He looked behind him, all seemed quiet. This would be his last dash, he hoped there would be at least a pedestrian passing by or better, a recharge card seller with several patrons gathered around his stall(it didn’t seem likely at this time of the night) .
As fast as he could, he made his move, racing for the junction. Huffing and puffing, he tried to ignore the limp for this last stretch, putting everything into each stride.
The vampire watched from his perch, for a mortal with a broken limb the young man moved without hindrance, covering the last 200m almost effortlessly.
He was enjoying every moment of this, and this was the climax. Just as the man was right under the street light at the junction he made is move.
Immediately the Vampire was in front of the burglar he knew everything was wrong. Before he could send out a telepathic distress signall everything around him changed. The two of them were no longer on a street corner, instead, they were standing in the middle of a clearing, the only source of light being a large camp fire, the ground was no longer concrete, instead it was sand; mud.
The vampire sensed many different things around him, he realised he and his prey were no longer the only people around. One by one they came into the fringes of the camp fire’s light, forming a circle around the two of them. They were neither men nor immortal.
The Vampire looked at the man he had been chasing. His physical features had slightly transformed. He was taller, now possessing eyes that seemed more intense. Then more visions and memories came to him; they were obviously of two different people, the blood he had drank was not of the man who he presently faced. Some form of dark magic obviously. He had been outdone and outsmarted
Most obvious was the limp. It had completely disappeared. Instinct told the Vampire his former prey was their leader, the way the other beings look at him, in reverence. The man didn’t smell of fear, there was an overwhelming sense of power around him, one he had never sensed since his return to the mother land.
A man covered in white native chalk walked into the circle holding a glistening knife. He looked at their apparent leader as if to seek permission then finally spoke; “Our Leader has finally delivered, we shall feed on this Vampire’s flesh tonight! Let it be heard across the spirit world that we were the first to do such!!!”
The last the Vampire heard was the distinct laugh of his former prey rent the air as his insides were removed, they promised him a slow death, everything removed inside him before they finally drove the stake through his heart right before his dismembered eyes.
The leader of the Ehmeres stood aloof from the feeding and celebrating hoard. The satisfaction could not be concealed in his steely dark eyes; The hunt had been successful.