Geetha Krishnan's Blog, page 30

The Life that Never Was: Part Six

Vasusena bid farewell to his wife as he mounted his horse. It was not a tearful farewell. For the first time since the war was announced, there was hope in both their hearts.

He had decided to leave the chariot behind as he could go faster on horseback. He was also travelling light, taking only his weapons.

The forest was the only difficult part of the journey. But the path was a much travelled one and they had had no difficulty while coming. Though well trodden, the path did have a few places where they were forced to get down from the chariot and walk. The chariot had to be pushed in a few places. There was also an old and worn bridge which they had crossed one by one. Vasusena had first brought Padmavathy across, then unhitched the horses and brought them over one by one, tied them and then had pulled the chariot across. Fortunately the chariot was not heavy and the bridge held.

A lone traveller on horseback was not going to find it too difficult to traverse such places. So Vasusena anticipated a quick and easy journey. He also hoped that some decision regarding the war would have been reached by the time he gets back.

It was quite possible that things would still be at an impasse, thought he, as he rode back. If the King and Suyodhana both held firm, no decision might be possible in a day.

Of course, if the King stood firm, Suyodhana might not have much choice. His obduracy would not make any difference.

He frowned as the day darkened and dark clouds rolled overhead. His horse seemed restive too.

There was no shelter to be found anywhere on the way, he knew. But there was a guest house if he took a detour to the west. It was a more frequented path.

He turned his horse to the west. There was no point in taking chances.

The Life that Never Was: Part Five

Vasusena sat on the steps of the small house, helping Padmavathy’s uncle in repairing a chariot.

“I thought you would have forgotten all this,” he told Vasusena. “It’s good to see you still remember your trade.”

Vasusena smiled. “How can one forget the craft one learned from the cradle, uncle?”

“So true,” the old man beamed. “But the way I heard it, you learned to shoot an arrow and to ride a horse from the cradle too.” He paused. “All this war and archery is for Kshatriyas. We should stick to what we do. Charioteering or singing and storytelling should be good enough for Sutas.”

Vasusena smiled. The old man was a firm believer in tradition.

“But there are some good warriors among Sutas,” the old man continued. “And times are changing. I wouldn’t be too surprised to see Suta warriors in our armies. But being a King is not for Sutas.”

“The circumstances were such,” said Vasusena, quite gravely.

“Yes, I know. I have heard tales of it. You could not have said no without offending the Prince. So it’s not your fault. That’s what I told my sister, your mother-in-law, when she asked my advice. She, having lost her husband did not know what to do when Atiradha came to her with the proposal. But I told her. See this boy is a King. But it is not his fault. You should not hold it against him. I’m certain he’s a good respectable Suta though he might have ideas about becoming a warrior. Young people will have new fangled ideas. But he comes from a good family.”

He beamed at Vasusena again. “And I was right. You never forgot your trade. I saw the way you drove the horses. No one would know you are a King. You drove them better than Sutas who have been doing it all their lives.”

Vasusena was trying hard to stifle his laughter. He feared he would not be able to much longer. Fortunately, Padmavathy came there telling her uncle that some of his friends have come.

“I had promised to go for the naming ceremony of one of their grandchildren,” said the old man. “He’s been too late coming, after prayers and what not. So now they want a good name. And I have to go there too. I know you are leaving tomorrow. Don’t delay even if I am not back by then,”

He beamed at Padmavathy. “I have told your husband that we are proud of him though he’s a King.”

He went inside, beaming.

Vasusena looked at his wife. Padmavathy looked aghast and that was the last straw. Vasusena went into peals of mirth. Fortunately, the old man was out of earshot.

Padmavathy sat next to him, laughing as she listened to Vasusena recount her uncle’s words, chortling all the while.

The Life That Never Was: Chapter Four

Their journey was uneventful. Vasusena was worried about what might happen. Suyodhana would do his best to dissuade his father, and as a rule, Dhritarashtra never denied his son anything, but this time might be an exception.

Vasusena found himself hoping that the war would not happen. But for how long? He wondered. The cousins were incapable of living in peace. Sooner or later, war was the only solution.

He knew he was being selfish when he hoped there would be peace. He would not need to choose sides. He would not be in a position where he had to fight his own brothers.

He frowned. When had he started to think of them as his brothers?

“You are frowning,” said Padmavathy softly. She had been silent till then.

Vasusena looked at her and his frown disappeared. He smiled at her. “It is of no moment,” said he. “My mind refuses to stop thinking of what might happen back in Kurukshetra.”

“Would you be terribly disappointed in your wife if I tell you that I hope there won’t be any war?”

He shook his head, turning his attention back to the horses. “None of the women might be wishing for war, except one.”

“I think you wrong her,” said Padmavathy gently. “I do not know her very well, but from what I have seen and heard, your sister does not seem to be bloodthirsty. And what happened to her was enough to make any woman angry and vengeful.”

Vasusena spoke no word but the word rang in his ear. Sister! Padmavathy was right of course. Draupadi, the wife of his younger brothers was his sister. And was it not his duty as a brother to avenge her? Shouldn’t he be trying to promote war?

He sighed and slumped a bit. It was not easy to know what to do. Not that there was anything for him to do now. He was here and there was no way to know what was happening.

He straightened his back. The decision would be made without him. And all he had to do was to accept it. Either he would need to live with it or he would need to fight his own brothers and perish. And in spite of his ambivalent feelings for Draupadi, he still hoped that there would not be war.

The Life That Never Was: Chapter Three

He repaired to his tent and changed his dress. After that he went to see Padmavathy. She was overseeing the packing of his dresses and hers for their trip. Two neat bundles, one larger than the other lay on the floor of her tent.

He then proceeded to see if the chariot was ready. It had to be modified to carry her and the luggage. And some modifications had to be made to enable it to go through the forest paths. The horses were also sturdy animals who were not very fast but would endure.

By that time, he had to meet the commander of his armies. While there, he received a message that Suyodhana wished to meet him.

Suyodhana was not alone in his tent. Bheeshma was with him. Vasusena wondered what it was all about.

“Vasusena,” said Suyodhana. “Pitamaha has received a message from my father.”

He looked livid, though Bheeshma looked impassive.

“My father,” continued Suyodhana, “has implored Pitamaha to avert this war at any cost. He has sent a similar missive to the Pandavas too.” He paused. “He has said he is coming to Kurukshetra himself. He has requested Yudhistira one last chance to make amends. He has said he will accede to a peace proposal.”

Vasusena was stunned. This volte face from Dhritarashtra was completely unexpected. He could not understand how it came about.

“What happened to him?” He asked Suyodhana.

“He had a nightmare, he says. And so horrible was it that he refuses to even contemplate the possibility of war.” said Suyodhana. “And he has ordered me to accept his command as he is still the King.”

“Just a nightmare?” asked Vasusena, in surprise.

Suyodhana picked up a scroll from a table and handed it to him. Vasusena read through. Twice. Then he lifted his eyes to look at his friend. “He had a vision of the future, he says. The same vision was shared by your mother.”

“Vision!” Suyodhana snorted. “They are being scared by dreams! And he has said he realized uncle Vidura was right! Mark, my words! This is all my uncle’s doing! He’s taking advantage of our absence to bend my father to his will!”

Bheeshma compressed his lips in anger, but remained silent.

Vasusena shrugged. “Whatever prompted it, your father has changed his mind.”

“How can he do this to me!” burst out Suyodhana. “To us! He has no right to do this!”

Vasusena did not know what to say. Dhritarashtra was certainly within his rights, but it seemed the wrong time to assert those rights. Both armies were assembled and the day for starting the war had also been determined. But he knew the King. Fear ruled the old man. Fear of something or other was the only thing that ever forced him to do what he did not want to do. Vasusena looked at Bheeshma. It was for the Patriarch to give an opinion on the rights and wrongs of the situation.

“What do you think general Bheeshma?” he asked.

“It is unheard of,” said Bheeshma, “and quite unprecedented to sue for peace at so late a stage. However, it is not against the rules. And I am no advocate of a needless war.”

“And what shall our allies say?” Asked Suyodhana, furiously. “They shall call us cowards!”

“They shall thank you for stopping this devastation.” Said Bheeshma sharply. “Not everyone is as hot headed as you! They have come to fight for you out of their love and obligation, not because they are eager for war!”

“Vasusena,” Suyodhana’s voice held a plea. “What do I do?”

Vasusena shook his head, his insides in turmoil. The situation seemed too miraculous to be true. But he knew that Suyodhana was not going to accept it.

“Your father is the King. And even were he not, he is your father.” He said.

Suyodhana bit his lip. “I wish you were not going tomorrow.”

“Should I postpone?” Padmavathy might be heartbroken but she would understand.

Suyodhana shook his head. “No. Your wife is looking forward to it. You should not disappoint her. I will make father see reason.”

As he walked back to his own tent, Vasusena wondered if Krishna had known of Dhritarashtra’s message.

The Life That Never Was: Chapter Two

Krishna and the Pandavas were perhaps the last persons he would have liked to run into right then. He had not seen Krishna since his mission to Hastinapura as the envoy of his cousins. And the last time he saw the five Pandavas together might have been on the day they left for exile. He noticed that the five were accompanied by their wife and their mother as well.

Seeing Kunti reminded him forcibly that these five were his brothers. Not that he ever forgot it. But he had managed to successfully push it to the back of his mind.

He nodded a bit curtly to Krishna and stepped aside so they could pass.

“You go ahead,” Krishna said to his cousins. “I will follow.”

“But-” The five brothers’ objection began almost simultaneously.

“You heard Krishna,” it was Kunti.

Her sons subsided and walked towards the river throwing fulminating glances at Vasusena. Kunti’s eyes held a plea, a yearning which he pretended not to see. Draupadi’s expression was unreadable as she followed her husbands without glancing at him.

“Aren’t you taking a risk?” He asked Krishna. “What if they ask you why you stayed behind to talk to me?”

“Didn’t Suyodhana ask you why I took you with me that day? What answer did you give him?”

Vasusena shrugged. “Suyodhana knows me. He did not ask. I hardly think your friends are going to be that forbearing.”

“When you say Suyodhana knows you-” began Krishna, but Vasusena lifted a hand to stop him.

“What is it that you wish to say to me, Krishna?”

“Do you remember the offer I made you to join our side?”

Vasusena nodded. “My answer is still the same.”

“And if I were to,” Krishna paused, and then continued, “tell you that the offer still stands?”

Vasusena shook his head with a smile. “There is nothing in all three worlds you can offer me that would make me change my mind.”

Krishna smiled softly. “You are just being stubborn.”

“I am being me.”

“That’s what I meant,” Krishna pursed his lips and looked into the distance. “When are you leaving in the morning?”

Vasusena was not surprised Krishna knew of his projected trip. “Early morning, before sunrise,”

“And when are you coming back?”

He shrugged. “Padmavathy wants to stay with her grandparents for a week. But I have to be back before that. I will be coming back after two days. Vrishasena will go and bring her back.”

Krishna nodded. “When is Suyodhana expecting you back?”

Vasusena looked at him in surprise. “After two days. I already told you.”

“You said you are coming back after two days. That is a different thing.”

“Word games.” Muttered Vasusena. “Shouldn’t you be going, Krishna?”

“You seem eager to get rid of me,”

“Aren’t we enemies?”

“I thought we were cousins,” Krishna’s smile was tinged with mischief.

“Suyodhana and Bheema are also cousins,” Vasusena reminded.

“Fair point.” Krishna agreed.

They looked into each other’s eyes. Vasusena felt a lump rise to his throat. There was no smile or mischief in Krishna’s eyes now, but something that was suspiciously like compassion. Vasusena swallowed.

“You should be going,” said Vasusena, his voice thick.

“Yes, I should.” Krishna’s voice too was husky.

They stood there for one more moment before Vasusena wrenched his eyes from the other man’s and walked away.

The Life that Never Was: Chapter One

He swam ashore almost lazily. He would have liked to stay in the river a while longer, but he had a few things to do. Padmavathy never made very many demands but whenever she made one, Vasusena had invariably complied. So when she wanted to worship at the temple of Siva in her ancestral village before the start of the war, he had agreed.

 

A few more moments, his heart begged him. The water was so cool and refreshing. And they were leaving only in the morning. But his brain regretfully declined. He had to make arrangements. As per his wife’s wish, only the two of them were going. Not even an attendant or an outrider was accompanying them. He was going to be driving the chariot himself.

 

He towelled himself dry and walked back to the camp. Once inside, he could change out of his wet clothes. It was not an easy task to arrange for a trip like this on the brink of war. He also had to oversee the preparations for war like mustering his armies, setting up camp, provisioning, arranging for training areas, liaising with the General for integrating his army to the whole. The last was still a must, even though he and his armies were not going to be part of the war from day one. He was grateful that Bheeshma too had taken the practical approach. Vasusena’s men would be training along with the rest so that when the time came, they would be part of the whole and would be useful to the war effort.

 

Suyodhana had grumbled a bit about his going away, but he had assured Suyodhana that he would be back before the battle began. They had a week which was more than enough time. Truth to tell, Vasusena was only too glad to have this time with his wife. It might well be the last opportunity for them to be together. The outcome of the war was not uncertain for him. He knew this was the last battle he would ever fight. And he felt that Padmavathy knew it too. Which was why she wanted this trip. Or may be she hoped that by offering worship there, she could beg the Lord for her husband’s life.

 

He deliberately turned his thoughts away from the coming war. It had been quite a long time since he had a swim in the river. And the experience had been not only pleasant but quite pleasurable as well. He thought with a smile that his clothes would probably dry on him by the time he reached camp. It was a long way and the climate was warm.

 

Lost in his thoughts he hardly noticed the men who loomed across his path till he almost bumped into them.

 

“Steady,” said Krishna, his hands holding Vasusena by the shoulders.

The Vampire and the Hunter Final Part

Max was startled to hear the knock. He was also feeling somewhat irritated. He could not imagine who it could have been, to totally ignore the “Do Not Disturb” sign. It could not be any of the hotel staff. But he knew no one there. No one who would ignore a “Do Not Disturb” sign anyway.

He waited a moment to know if the person would go away. But the knock was repeated. Probably some kid, thought Max. Thinking it funny to knock on their neighbours’ doors.

He opened the door with a scowl, prepared to meet a giggling toddler. He froze, stunned at seeing Lucard. Max felt winded, short of breath. He had not expected it, though he should have.

“Maximilian,” said Alexander quietly, breaking the silence. “It has been a long time.”

“Lucard,” acknowledged Max, wondering how on earth he was recognized.

And then ignoring all his training, Max threw caution to the winds.

“Won’t you come inside?” he asked.

Alexander’s lifted his eyebrows in surprise, though all he said was, “So said the spider to the fly, if I remember right.” He stepped into the room all the same.

Max smiled a bit grimly as he closed the door. “You are hardly a helpless fly, not even during the day time, if I remember right.”

Alexander made no response, just glancing around the room. “So, you have realized your childhood ambition and became a vampire hunter. The best in the business too.”

Max shrugged, but said nothing. His cover had been penetrated but he knew there was nothing he could do now.

Alexander regarded Max gravely. “I never expected you to change so much,” he said softly. “I never expected you to become so ruthless, if reports are to be believed.”

Max stared at Alexander in surprise. Then he recovered his composure. “I was ten when you knew me,” said he. “I grew up, that’s all.”

“Yes,” said Alexander, “You have certainly grown up.”

There was a glint in the vampire’s eyes and Max was suddenly feeling a bit breathless.

“Look,” said he. “I appreciate the visit, but I am not feeling in the mood for reminiscences. It is day time, so there isn’t much you can do to me either. So why don’t you just leave?”

“Nothing I can do?” murmured Alexander, with the same glint in his eyes. “On the contrary, there’s a great deal I can do, that I wish to do.”

The vampire moved almost in slow motion and yet, Max realized what was happening only when he was in the vampire’s arms. And then Alexander’s mouth found his and Max stopped thinking. His brain shouted one final warning as Max opened his mouth in response, but Max found it was exceedingly easy to ignore his brain.

Alexander sighed deeply as he lifted his head, though his arms still held Max close.

“I take it, you did not come here for this,” said Max.

“No,” muttered Alexander. “Which is making me wonder about my sanity.”

Max grinned. “If you are crazy, then so am I.”

Alexander smiled a bit half heartedly. “You seem to be taking this quite complacently,” said he.

“No, not complacently,” said Max. “My brain has just shut down.”

“I came here to kill you,” said Alexander.

“Surely, not during the day time?” protested Max.

Alexander tried to frown, but ended up smiling. “No, but- Max, be serious. I did not know you were Hawthorn, but I did come here to kill him.”

“I knew you were Dracula and my greatest ambition was to drive a stake through your heart.” Max looked at Alexander. “I am being serious. What happened now was totally unexpected, but it still feels right somehow. And I think I want to know where it will lead. If you have no objections, that is.”

Alexander’s arms tightened around Max. “As long as you are not going to regret it when your brain starts working again.”

“I don’t think there’s any danger of that,” said Max. “When you look at me like that, my brain is in a state of permanent meltdown.”

Alexander smiled. It was crazy. It was not like him. But what the hell, thought he as Max’s arms went round him and his lips found his, he was getting tired of his old self anyway.

MEET THE AUTHOR

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Library Blog @ Kendriya Vidyalaya Idukki

MRS GEETHA KRISHNAN IN ‘MEET THE AUTHOR’ AT K V IDUKKI

KendriyaVidyalaya ,Idukki organized “Meet the Author Programme” with the renowned writer Mrs.Geetha Krishnan in the Vidyalaya on 12thOctober.Mrs.GeethaKrishnan,a brilliant writer of a few unique books like Ayana, Mahabharatha, Dharmasasthrapanarathaya etc. She is presently working as Chief Manager SBI, Thiruvananthapuram.

The program was organized by the Vidyalaya Reader’s Club and the Literary Club jointly for the students.MrsGeetha Krishnan, undoubtedly a writer of rare caliber has published a series of works specially noted for a subtle re-telling of the Indian epics.

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The Vampire and the Hunter Part Three

Max was thoughtful as he entered the restaurant. Dracula, he noticed, was sitting alone in a table near the entrance, apparently engrossed in the newspaper. Max walked past him to his usual table. Having ordered his usual breakfast, he watched his quarry. It was surprising that he should have remembered Lucard so clearly. But now that he was seeing him, Max could see that every feature was just as he remembered. Of course, at ten, Max had not really noticed how good looking the vampire was, though he was noticing it now. Max scowled so fiercely at that thought that the waiter who brought his breakfast became quite flustered.

Max forced a smile at the man and took his eyes off the vampire and attempted to concentrate on his breakfast. He might have been chewing sand paper for all the enjoyment he derived out of it. And the coffee which he knew was made just the way he liked it was as tasteless as water.

I am too wound up, thought Max, forcing himself to relax. Though he had not expected to run into a vampire here, now that he had, there was nothing for him to do, but to accept it. The only trouble was, Dracula was hardly any vampire. And Max was almost certain that Lucard was there because he had received information that Hawthorn was there. Of course, Max could try to attack Dracula, though he was not an easy prey. Max knew it was quite possible for the hunter to become the hunted while dealing with Lucard. His chances of success were nearly zero, he knew.

All Max could hope now was that his enemy did not know what he looked like. But even if Lucard didn’t know him from Adam, it was still possible that he might recognize him as Max. And once that happened, there was no doubt that he would be putting two and two together. Max gave a mental shrug. It might be better to turn his thoughts to something else. There was nothing he could do about the present situation unless he went through with his plans for leaving. And that, he realized, was the last thing he wanted to do. In spite of the danger, he wanted to stay.

Max picked up the newspaper. Maybe, he would find something in there to divert his attention.

Alexander caught a whiff of a familiar fragrance as the young man walked past him to a table at the other end of the room. He looked just as good fully clothed, thought Alexander and was startled at that thought. He studied the young man over the top of his newspaper, trying to figure out where and how he knew him. That he was fairly well acquainted with him was certain. But try as he might, he could not remember. He frowned. It was not normal for him to forget. It was even more unlikely that he might have made a mistake.

He recognized the young man’s smell. And therefore he knew him. But the surprising thing was, how he could have forgotten a man as remarkable as that one. It was not the looks that made him remarkable. He was good looking, true, but not exceptionally so. It was something about the look in his eyes, the set of his jaws. Resolution. Determination. Character, thought Alexander. But not at the first glance. Only when you observe closely. And Alexander was observing very closely indeed.

It was no blinding flash from above, but Alexander was certain that if Hawthorn was indeed in this godforsaken resort, then he had found him. He studied him with even more care than before. Taking him out might be harder than he had anticipated. Of course, he had not expected it to be easy but having seen his enemy, Alexander had the feeling that he may have met his match. It was equally certain that the vampire hunter might have recognized him. Which meant that he might well be the one in danger.

But he was not going to turn tail and run, though that might be the prudent thing to do. He was intensely curious about how and where he had met Hawthorn and how he had forgotten. Alexander closed his eyes, trying to remember that scent and what it reminded him of. But it was not possible. The various aromas in the restaurant was interrupting his concentration. With a sigh, he opened his eyes.

Just then, the young man rose from his table, having finished his breakfast. Alexander drew a deep breath. Hawthorn, if it was him, will have to pass him on the way out. Alexander closed his eyes again, blocking out every thought and sense. If he could simply concentrate on that particular smell without any distractions, he might be able to remember.

The smell came then, tantalizingly familiar. And with it came a memory. A dark night and an enemy he had destroyed. And-. Alexander’s eyes flew open. He looked around, almost wildly, but the young man was gone. Alexander sat there, stunned. If he had a heart, thought Alexander, it would be racing now. His breathing was certainly fast. He signalled for his bill, his mind in turmoil.

It was not surprising that he had forgotten. How could he have known? He rose from his table and strode to the reception desk. He had to make sure. It was not likely that he had made a mistake. But it did not hurt to have confirmation.

He smiled at the reception clerk, a different girl today.

“Hi,” said he with his most charming smile. “An old friend of mine is staying here. Could you please give me his room number? His name is Townsend. Max Townsend.”

The girl checked her computer. “Mr. Townsend is staying in Room 202, sir.”

“Thank you,” murmured Alexander.

He felt almost dazed. Max was Hawthorn! His mind could not accept the fact. Though Max had always wanted to be a vampire hunter, it had never occurred to Alexander that he could end up being the cold blooded killer that Hawthorn was reputed to be. In fact, Alexander always felt that Max would grow out of his fascination with the supernatural. The Max he remembered was too nice, too compassionate for his own good. How had that child turned into this man?

Alexander stopped. He was standing in front of Max’s room. He knew Max was inside. He also knew that he should turn around and go to his room. And then do the sensible thing and pack his bags and leave. After all, Max had saved his life once. And even if he was planning to forget that, there was nothing he could do right then. It was daytime and he had no vampire powers.

Ignoring the “Do Not Disturb” sign on the door, Alexander knocked.

The Vampire and the Hunter Part Two

Alexander looked around the hotel and suppressed a groan. It was beginning to seem like a wild goose chase. It seemed highly unlikely for any vampire hunter to be in a place as remote as this. It was equally improbable for one as successful as Hawthorn to be taking a break and that too in a place like this.

Vampire hunters, he knew from experience, were tough, tenacious and not in the habit of taking vacations unless it was in the vicinity of some unfortunate and unsuspecting vampire. Yet, his informant had been positive. Alexander frowned and cursed the chance that had caused him to be out of the country when the call came.

The message had been to his personal number and had he been there, he could have asked Barry for a description of Hawthorn. That Barry had not been seen or heard from since was proof enough that he had come across Hawthorn. Alexander was not too upset over Barry’s death, but he certainly wished Barry’s message had been more coherent. From the garbled message, he was able to understand that Barry has seen Hawthorn at New York airport about to board a flight to this place for a vacation.

Wild goose chase or not, Alexander was certainly not going to ignore it. But he did wish that Barry had included a description of Hawthorn. As it was, Hawthorn could be anyone from the interested tourist standing at the corner gazing at a map of the island, from the sober looking man reading a newspaper to the half naked young man clad only in a towel flirting with the reception clerk. Or even, as unlikely as it may seem, the attractive brunette who was manning the reception.

The young man who was flirting with the receptionist turned, took a couple of steps and then turned back again. Alexander decided that nothing was to be gained by standing there at the entrance. He strode purposefully towards the front desk. The young man turned then and all but bumped into him.

“Excuse me,” muttered the young man, not meeting Alexander’s eye. Alexander felt amused at the stranger’s obvious embarrassment.

“It’s all right,” he said as the stranger brushed past him and all but ran to the lift. Alexander caught a whiff of a scent that made him frown. He knew that scent, though at the moment he could not place it. It was familiar but he could not remember where he had known it.

“How may I help you, sir?” asked the reception clerk and her smile seemed a bit forced. Alexander realized he was still frowning and smoothed his features into a smile. Time enough to worry about that young man, he decided. Besides, he was here for Hawthorn. He could not afford to get sidetracked.

Alexander was still frowning a bit as he walked into the lift. It had only then occurred to him that though he would not be able to know Hawthorn, the vampire hunter would almost certainly know who he was.   Even if Hawthorn did not know who exactly he was, he was certain to recognize him as a vampire. Vampire hunters had a sixth sense where vampires were concerned and Hawthorn’s record showed him to be possessed of a seventh, eighth and ninth sense as well.

There was not, to his knowledge, a single vampire who had survived an encounter with Hawthorn. Even those like Barry, who had come across him accidentally had not lived to tell the tale. It was the most fortunate of chances that Barry could make that phone call before Hawthorn got him. Hawthorn was beginning to seriously annoy Alexander.

But having to hunt for Hawthorn was certainly going to relieve his tedium at being in a sleepy place like this.