Behind blue eyes the goo.., p.1
Behind Blue Eyes: The Good The Bad & The Blood, p.1D. M. Wolfenden
Behind Blue Eyes
Published by DM Wolfenden 2015
Copyright © 2013 DM Wolfenden
DM Wolfenden asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
Table of Contents
It was 1944 when Vasile arrived in London. For him, this place would make an easy target; the women of this world were his prey. The war had caused a lot of confusion and there were many strangers about, so no one would think anything about a new face in the crowd. No one would miss the harlots that roamed the streets; they rarely had anyone who cared enough about them to cause a fuss. By the time the authorities noticed their absence, he would be long gone anyway.
His first three victims had been easy, but with this last one he had become overconfident. He did not care that he could hear people close by. The noises of drunken men and singing from the bars would cover her screams. Or so he thought. While the life was draining from her, he did not see the men at the far end of the alley until it was too late. He counted four, and they had guns.
At the age of forty-nine, Lady Elizabeth Sutton was still a very beautiful and elegant woman, with her green eyes, long brown wavy hair, and a slim figure. Her only child, Cain, had been a caring, loving child and had grown into a handsome man. He was well educated and a decorated intelligence officer with the Secret Service. When he turned twenty-three, he left to fight in the Second World War.
She had only seen him three times in the last four years, and one of those was when he had returned home for his wife’s funeral. Elizabeth missed Cain so much it was painful, and she often thought about her dead daughter-in-law.
She still lived in Essex, just outside London, in a large country estate, which had been owned by her family for four hundred years. The manor house stood on a rise, dominating the surrounding gardens and woodlands. Four large projecting towers stood at the corners of the rectangular building. The sand-colored walls were pierced by huge multi-paned windows. The home she had grown up in had become her prison. A prison she was afraid to leave.
Now Cain had been posted to France, and she had no idea when she would next hear from or see him again. She felt utterly alone; she had no one. She did receive the occasional visitor, but they didn't understand her plight, the depths of her despair. How could they?
June 16th, 1944 was a beautiful summer’s afternoon and Elizabeth’s long-time friend, Ann Woodeville, was visiting her, trying to convince Elizabeth that a few days—or even just one night away—would do them both good. Ann remembered fondly what her friend had been like; she had so much compassion, and even after leaving London after her husband’s death, she would travel back at least once a week to buy food for the suffering children. Times were hard for the poor, with children as young as five working to try and put food in their stomachs.
Survival was not easy in the capital.
Elizabeth had not been to London since Emily’s death. Ann understood how awful that day had been for everyone, but it had been over three years now and she needed to get her friend back. It was so painful watching her giving up on life, just existing, and that was only for Cain’s sake. Ann worried that if anything happened to Cain, Elizabeth would not be able to carry on living.
Elizabeth loved Ann, but Ann was a terrible flirt, especially now that the American soldiers were here. The men held no interest for Elizabeth, and Ann was not known for her discretion. When challenged on her behavior Ann would say, “I am fourteenth in line to the throne, so if a disaster happened I could very easily be the next queen; and who would dare to question the actions of the future queen of Great Britain? Why, a few decades ago, it was a positive must to be promiscuous.”
Elizabeth smiled as an image flashed through her mind; she remembered the day she walked into the Dorchester hotel to meet Cain. Ann was on her hands and knees trying to negotiate the furniture in the lobby. Elizabeth stood there open-mouthed as she waved at Ann, unsure what was going on. Ann suddenly ducked behind a chair. A mutual male friend, approached Elizabeth, turning his back toward Ann, who took advantage of this to pop out from behind the chair and blow her a kiss before scurrying off.
The man’s brother came into view. Ann had been up to her old tricks: standing one man up to meet another, not caring if they were related.
Elizabeth’s smile quickly faded as she remembered that was the day Cain announced his intention to ask Emily out. Not long afterward Emily had made a beautiful bride. They were so happy together, but all too soon tragedy struck. Emily was pregnant when she was visiting her father in London. She had been killed in the very first air raid of the war. Cain had lost both wife and child while Elizabeth lost a much-loved daughter-in-law, a grandchild she would never know, and her son, too, as he withdrew into himself.
Everything in Elizabeth’s life felt like it was falling apart. She lost her lust for life and became isolated, both from people and from those things she used to enjoy. She would not leave the comforting cocoon of her home if she could avoid it. Her life was lived vicariously through her books.
Elizabeth stared at the tree line, her eyes narrowing.
Ann turned around and looked in the same direction. “Are you all right?” she asked, as she turned back to face her friend.
Elizabeth looked at Ann. “Sorry, what was that you were saying?”
Ann’s brow wrinkled. “I asked if you would like to accompany me tonight.”
Elizabeth rubbed her temples and swallowed hard. “No, and please be car
Ann laughed. “I always am.” Elizabeth looked over at the trees again. Ann checked once more. What might Elizabeth have seen there? “Do you see something?”
Elizabeth shuddered. “No, it’s just a feeling. I keep thinking I’m being watched.”
“For goodness’ sake, Elizabeth!” Ann threw her arms up in the air. She then thrust both hands toward Elizabeth. “Will you listen to yourself?” Her hands dropped to her sides and she shook her head. “You’ve hidden yourself away from the world for far too long and now reality is so foreign to you that you’re becoming paranoid.” She paced a few steps away then turned back and sharply grabbed at Elizabeth’s arms. “You have to come out with me and meet people, see real life again – or they’ll end up bringing the straightjacket for you.”
Elizabeth wrenched herself out of Ann’s grasp. “No! No, I can’t do it, Ann.” Her whole body trembled. Then she turned and ran into the house.
Ann shook her head as the door slammed shut. “I’m so worried about you,” she whispered as she walked away.
Vasile stood at the edge of the trees, looking on to a large estate with the most impressive manor house he had seen since he had arrived in England. He was impressed with the gardens, especially the large maze with the fountain in the center. The extensive rose garden brought a sudden memory of Alexandria to him. The China rose had been her favorite flower, and while it looked nothing like the typical English roses in this garden, just thinking of the name of the flower reminded him of her. She had been his creator, his mentor, and his companion.
He closed his eyes and tried to rid himself of the last memory he had of her, concentrating on the house and its occupant. He had been watching the woman for two days. If he estimated correctly, there were only five people living in this large house: four staff and the lady of the manor. The four staff would not be a problem; he could easily handle two old men, one young girl, and a large woman in her fifties.
From the shadows he stood watching her, mesmerized by her. She was so beautiful, with her long dark brown hair, slim figure, and enchanting eyes. She reminded him of an older Gene Tierney; he had recently seen a photo of the movie star and was fascinated by her beauty.
The lady of this house looked sad, but she also intrigued him. She was a little older than his usual type, but she would be the one he would allow to share his life. Age was not something that he cared about. After all, he was over two hundred years old. He had taken many young, beautiful mates in the past, but they had never lasted more than a year. He would get bored of their actions and idiotic notions, but this lady had a certain class about her, and she would be no fool. He thought about the life they would have together, the things they would do….
He couldn’t move from her distant gaze, her eyes captured him. Does she see me? No, that’s impossible. Human eyes can’t see this far.
But as he continued to watch she became distressed. What is that other woman saying to you? How dare she upset you? The friend turned and stomped her way down the drive. She, his goddess, slowly closed the door. Soon we will be together, my love. Soon the likes of her will no longer trouble you.
The smoke-filled bar was awash with dancing and music, American GIs and young British women making merry in the quaint English pub. Older Englishmen looked on, some shaking their heads to show their displeasure.
“Well, I’ll have another drink,” Ann shouted, as she stood up waving her glass at the black American GI with whom she was spending the evening. She had to grab the table to steady herself when it felt like the room was spinning. It took only a few seconds for the room to settle.
A white GI who shared their table looked at her. “Are you okay, Ma’am?”
“I just stood up too quickly.” Ann smiled and shook her glass. “Be right back.”
Ann glanced over her shoulder, watching the handsome GI go to the bar. The next thing she knew she was on her bottom on the floor, her hand stinging. She lifted her hand up to her face. Small shards of glass glistened between deep red streaks of blood.
The white GI came running over to her. On his knees, he took hold of Ann’s hand. He didn’t seem to notice the glass for all the blood. He wrapped her hand in his handkerchief and slowly stood up. “Let’s sit you down at the table so I can take a look at it.”
“It’s nothing. Just a little cut,” she replied, her face nearly as red as the blood-soaked handkerchief.
The GI frowned and held his hand out in front of her.
The other GI appeared. “What happened?” he asked as he put his arm under Ann’s.
Ann’s female friend came out of the bathroom, saw Ann looking a little shaken and their two companions helping her stand up. “Ann, are you all right?” Her voice trembled as she spoke.
“Don’t fuss, my dear. I’m fine. I’m just going to go and freshen up.” Ann flicked her hand over her clothes as she turned and walked away.
While Ann made her way to the bathroom, her friend saw the blood on the GI’s sleeve. Panicked, she followed Ann. When she entered the bathroom Ann had her hand in the sink running cold water over it. “Do you need to see a doctor?”
Ann flinched as she pulled out a small shard of glass. “It’s nothing, just a small cut. So, you seem to be enjoying yourself.”
She blushed. “Don’t change the subject.”
Ann laughed. “I’m sorry. It’s nothing, really. I’m ready to leave, are you?”
The woman hesitated and looked down at the floor. “Erm, yes, of course, we can go if you want to.”
Ann put her hand on the woman’s shoulder. “You really like him, don’t you?”
A shy smile appeared on her face. “He’s nice, but he understands I will not be leaving here with him tonight.”
Ann smiled. “I guess we can stay a little longer. Now you go and join the boys. Let them know I’m all right and that I’ll be out in a minute. ”
“Thank you. I will order you something non-alcoholic to drink.”
Ann took in a sharp breath. “Heaven forbid.”
Her friend smiled and gave a little giggle as she opened the door and went to join the men.
When Ann left the bathroom she saw her friend laughing with GIs. It had been a long time since she had seen her laugh, actually enjoy herself. She would not spoil her night. She quickly made her way outside, hoping not to be spotted by them. Ann was making her way down the quiet streets toward the hotel when a man came up behind her.
“You’re injured,” he said.
Ann jumped at the sound of his voice. She put her hand on her chest, turning to face him. The man had a strange accent. She said, “It’s nothing. Just a small cut. Thank you for your concern, but I’m fine.”
“Let me see,” he insisted, and took a step closer to her.
Ann, still feeling a little light-headed, took a wobbly step back. “I am fine. There is no need for concern. Thank you.”
“You are also intoxicated.”
Who the hell does he think he is? “That is no concern of yours. Goodnight, Sir.”
The man put his hand on his chest and bowed slightly. “I did not mean to offend you. I am just concerned,” he said, and gave one of his most mesmerizing smiles, the one that most women fell for. His brown eyes, slim build, and dark hair had always held him in good stead with women.
He stood up straight. “My name is Vasile. I’m worried the injury could be worse than you may think. If you would allow me to accompany you to your destination, it would be a great relief to me to know that you have arrived there safely. Such an attractive lady should not be walking the streets alone at night.”
The smell of the blood was starting to drive him crazy.
He had to be careful; there were people nearby and he could not afford to be caught again. He had barely escaped the last time. He was a patient man and he could control his hunger until the timing was just right. As the hunger gripped him his hand strayed to his side. He could still feel th
The alcohol had impaired Ann’s judgment but she was finding the man to be very charming and gallant. She also thought he was rather good-looking, and had a mysterious air about him, something she found hard to resist in men. The sound of other people in the distance, mixed with the alcohol, kept her fear in check.
“I would like that, thank you. I am staying at the Grand Hotel.”
“I know the place,” he said, smiling.
The streets had now become deserted. The flickering light coming from the gas lamps outside the closed shops gave the street an eerie glow. They chatted as they walked and Ann was starting to like this gentleman more and more. Perhaps her night had not been wasted after all.
“We are nearly at the hotel. May I look at your hand again?” he asked.
She put her uninjured hand on her heart, and she smiled at him. “Yes, of course.”
His mouth began to salivate; he could almost taste her as he quickly grabbed at her hand.
His hand felt cold and his eyes bored into hers like a madman’s. She watched him and swallowed hard as a shudder went down her spine. The smile left her face and she held her breath. “I really think I should go.”
He took the handkerchief off her hand. “This doesn’t look so bad. I think you would have survived this injury.”
Ann stepped back.
He still held her hand, and arm’s length did not feel far enough away to her. Why did he say that, like he was trying to say something completely different? What did he mean, she ‘would have’ survived this injury? She pulled and tugged, trying to get her hand out of his grip, but he was too strong.
She became almost paralyzed by fear. Apart from the uncontrollable trembling, all she could do was stare into his jet black eyes. Then he smiled, the most menacing smile she had ever seen, and before she could react he bit into her wounded hand.
Behind Blue Eyes: The Good The Bad & The Blood by D. M. Wolfenden / History & Fiction have rating 4 out of 5 / Based on32 votes