The end is where we start from - Primeval/Being Human crossover
Jessie was cold.
It was that deep cold, seeping into your bones, making you feel as if you would never be warm again.
Shivering, she huddled closer against the wall, dragging her threadbare rags tighter around her. As if that would help. There had been no food today, or yesterday. The day before there had been that loaf of bread she’d managed to steal from the market stall, but that was long gone. She’d only managed a few bites before it had been ripped from her grasp by another beggar, bigger and stronger than she was.
Jessie had always been small, and she knew she wasn’t going to last long on the streets. She wasn’t physically strong enough. Quick, yes, and that was useful for theft. But when the winter started to set in, she knew she was done for.
A carriage rattled past, the heavy wheel splashing through a puddle, splattering her with filthy cold water. It was an extra blow she didn’t need, not now that the light was fading and night was coming.
There were options. There were always options, for a girl who’d been considered pretty once. They weren’t options Jessie wanted to take. Thrown out of her home when her parents died and she hadn’t been willing to pay what the landlord wanted for the rent, she’d been living on the streets for weeks, begging on corners, trying to stay alive.
She’d thought she’d known hunger when her parents had fallen ill and money had been scarce, but it was nothing, nothing compared to the constant pain in her belly now, gnawing at her.
The street was slowly emptying now, people preferring the warmth of their homes to the biting wind. But there was a well-dressed couple approaching, and she thought she might try her luck. Sometimes it worked.
“Please, Sir…” she held out her hand, knowing there was little chance. “I’m hungry…”
The man looked down, briefly, and she saw the disgust on his face. The woman shied away from her, but didn’t look. That was normal behaviour, she was used to it. Still she kept her hand out as they passed, not wanting to make it easy for them.
“Please, just a farthing… just one farthing…”
The couple probably didn’t have a farthing. They probably had nothing smaller than a shilling. A shilling would have been wealth beyond Jessie’s dreams. She watched the couple go, disappointed but not surprised. Their sort rarely gave anything.
It had been a long, fruitless day. There were other options, more dangerous than begging. Two men were walking down the street towards her now. Their confident gait, the fine, expensive cut of their coats pointed them out as being very wealthy indeed. She looked down at her own rags. No point in even trying to tempt them, they would probably laugh in her face. But they might throw her a few coins. Or more likely they might hit her. Men like that it was best to steer clear of. They thought of beggars as little more than animals. She’d heard tales of what could happen to women like her, beaten to death for sport, found in an alley days later. No, it was best to stay hidden, then see if she could pick their pockets. The benefit of being small and quick was that she was able to strike quickly, take whatever they had and run. But she had to be careful with these two. If she was caught, and they were the type of man she suspected they were, she was dead.
There was little option. If she didn’t get food, find something to barter with for a warmer shawl, she was dead anyway. It was worth the risk.
Slipping back into the shadows of the doorway, Jessie waited. The two men walked past, not even sparing her a glance. She was, after all, invisible to most people. It could be an advantage, sometimes. Quietly, her worn shoes soft on the cobbled street, she began to follow them. The younger man glanced back and for a moment she thought she’d been spotted, but nothing came of it and he continued walking, talking to his companion.
It was almost too easy. Whatever the man was talking about, he was gesturing extravagantly, his hands well away from his coat. It was just a matter of reaching out, putting her hand in his coat pocket and...
“You picked the wrong man to steal from, you filthy little thief.”
Jessie gasped and would have dropped the wallet she was holding, but the man had moved impossibly fast and had her by the wrist, his grip painfully tight.
“Let me go!”
“Oh, I don’t think so.”
The man’s companion plucked the stolen wallet from Jessie’s grasp. “Here, Lord Harry. You should take better care. So much vermin on these streets.”
Harry snatched it back, replacing it in his pocket then glaring at Jessie. “Now the question, of course, is what do we do with you?”
There was an alley, dark and foreboding right behind them. Jessie cringed away from them, cursing her own stupidity. But she was cold and tired and hungry, and bound to make mistakes. She tried to pull away, but Lord Harry just gripped her more tightly.
“Oh, I don’t think so. You would have robbed me, little girl. There are few who are foolish or brave enough to do that. Which are you? Brave, or foolish?”
Jessie wasn’t sure of the answer. Sometimes, like now, she thought she might be both. “Let me go,” she repeated. “Please.”
“Please?” He looked to his companion. “Some manners after all. What do you think, Sir James? Should I let her go?”
Sir James, if that was the older gentleman’s name, looked at her as if she were some tediously tiresome thing. Perhaps to him she was. “Let her go, keep her, it’s of no consequence to me.”
“Even if she’s dinner?”
Jessie froze at his words. The man who held her was young, handsome, and yet there was something unutterably cruel and pitiless in his dark gaze. As if he had no soul, no care for anyone or anything. He had to be joking about the dinner though, teasing her, trying to frighten her.
Sir James looked down at her scornfully. “I think not. I prefer my food washed, and correctly dressed for the table.”
Jessie tugged harder, trying desperately to free herself. These were the sort of people she’d heard about, the ones who would kill her kind for sport, she was sure of it. Someone would stumble across her body in that alleyway tomorrow, pale and lifeless, drained of blood like those bodies so often were.
“Well,” Lord Harry didn’t appear remotely concerned. “You truly are a most fastidious soul, James. But that can be arranged. I would imagine this little thing will clean up fairly well.” He jerked her arm, pulling her closer and then clamping his hand across the back of her neck. He had moved so fast there had been only the briefest microsecond when she could have run. She knew she would never have made it. “Gods, you do reek.”
His grip was hard and strong on her neck, and she knew he could break it in an instant. “Let go,” she gasped once again.
“Ah, no. You’ll come with us, or I’ll have you arrested as a pickpocket and whore. Little thing like you wouldn’t last long in the cells. So come along, and if you struggle or scream I’m sure you can feel how easily I could snap your little neck like a twig.”
“Don’t hurt me…”
“Oh, it won’t hurt. Come now.” And he led her along the street, half-pushing, half-dragging her. Jessie didn’t think she could scream. And he was right, the police would never believe her word over theirs.
They moved quickly along the street, and Jessie noticed the way that no passer-by would meet her gaze, silently imploring for help. But then, would she have done in their place? The man’s grip never let up, and she had no doubt that he would follow through on his threat.
All too soon they’d reached one of the newly built townhouses. If these men could afford one of those then they could easily buy their way out of any trouble, any inconvenience the death of a beggar girl might have for them.
“Please…”
“Hush now,” Lord Harry waited whilst Sir James unlocked the door. Jessie struggled then, despite their threats. Once she was through that door she was dead anyway.
She opened her mouth to scream, but it was too late. Somehow she was already inside and the door had closed. They had once again moved impossibly fast, the two men.
Inside, the house was beautiful. A vast marble staircase rose up from the entrance hall, winding its way around and leading up to rooms unseen.
Jessie was fairly sure she didn’t want to see them.
“Please don’t hurt me, please let me go,” she begged over and over as they dragged her down the corridor to the room beyond.
It looked like a kitchen, clean and scrubbed down. They’d talked of dinner, but surely that had just been to frighten her? She could feel her heart racing.
“Please…”
“You have quite a limited vocabulary,” Lord Harry told her. He let go of her neck, and took a step back, regarding her carefully.
It was probably the only chance she was going to get, and she took it. Jessie ran. She fled down the corridor as fast as she could, heading for the door.
It was locked, of course, and bolted.
“She’s very quick, even now,” Lord Harry commented. The two men, or whatever they were, had followed her. “And a strong survival instinct. I like that. What do you say to a wager?”
Sir James regarded her, and she had the feeling she was being sized up, judged. “A hunt? Those can be problematic, Hal. What part of keeping a low profile don’t you understand?”
Lord Harry or Hal, or whatever his name was shook his head. Jessie noticed that he was looking excited, enthused by the prospect of whatever idea had come to him. She tried the door again, jumping up, trying to reach the bolt. It was far too high for her.
“I was thinking that after we’ve fed we could turn her. Take one of those other women from the street as well. One each. Raise them up to be the best they can be then set them against each other. The winner lives. You may have this one if you like.”
“And the stakes?”
“Your manor house against my town house. Oh come now, James, what’s life without a little risk? It’s not as if that’s the only property you own.”
“This is the only decent property that you own.”
Hal shrugged. “That you know of.” He stuck out his hand. “Shake on it? Or don’t you think you can do it?” He looked at Jessie again. “Or we could just feed on her now. She’s probably quite delicious, terrified, that sweet blood pumping through her veins. We could share…”
Jessie turned, struggling with the door even though she knew it was hopeless. There wasn’t even a key in the huge lock. Sir James was looking around, regarding the house.
“I accept,” he said finally. “I am fond of this place, it would suit me very well. Prepare to lose.”
Jessie wasn’t sure what it meant for her. It couldn’t be good. None of this was good.
And then, suddenly, Sir James was on her. There was a brief, frightening glimpse of those sharp, vicious fangs. And they’d lied about the pain…
---
Jessie wasn’t sure which of the two men she feared most. She had been left alone with Sir James, Hal having already tired of her, gone off to look for another victim. Whoever he brought back, as Jessie understood it, she would eventually have to kill. It was what she was now, the mythical, impossible term. Vampyre.
At least she was alive. And she felt strong, stronger than she had in a long time.
Sir James walked around her, sizing her up.
“I want this house,” he said eventually. “You’ll do everything I say, learn to hunt, learn to survive. Afterwards, if you win, you can live life to a better standard than you’ve ever dreamed of. It’s not a bad deal for someone like you. So, I must call you something. What’s your name?”
“Jessie, Sire.”
“A small name for a small creature. You are part of a superior race now, and should be named accordingly, Lady Jessica. And you will earn it, earn your existence here just as you’ll earn this house for me. Because we are going to win that wager. Now, follow me.”
Jessica shivered, once again cold in her rags, but walked obediently after him, through the huge house. She was still hungry, though it was becoming more of a craving now.
Perhaps she would never stop being hungry.
It was that deep cold, seeping into your bones, making you feel as if you would never be warm again.
Shivering, she huddled closer against the wall, dragging her threadbare rags tighter around her. As if that would help. There had been no food today, or yesterday. The day before there had been that loaf of bread she’d managed to steal from the market stall, but that was long gone. She’d only managed a few bites before it had been ripped from her grasp by another beggar, bigger and stronger than she was.
Jessie had always been small, and she knew she wasn’t going to last long on the streets. She wasn’t physically strong enough. Quick, yes, and that was useful for theft. But when the winter started to set in, she knew she was done for.
A carriage rattled past, the heavy wheel splashing through a puddle, splattering her with filthy cold water. It was an extra blow she didn’t need, not now that the light was fading and night was coming.
There were options. There were always options, for a girl who’d been considered pretty once. They weren’t options Jessie wanted to take. Thrown out of her home when her parents died and she hadn’t been willing to pay what the landlord wanted for the rent, she’d been living on the streets for weeks, begging on corners, trying to stay alive.
She’d thought she’d known hunger when her parents had fallen ill and money had been scarce, but it was nothing, nothing compared to the constant pain in her belly now, gnawing at her.
The street was slowly emptying now, people preferring the warmth of their homes to the biting wind. But there was a well-dressed couple approaching, and she thought she might try her luck. Sometimes it worked.
“Please, Sir…” she held out her hand, knowing there was little chance. “I’m hungry…”
The man looked down, briefly, and she saw the disgust on his face. The woman shied away from her, but didn’t look. That was normal behaviour, she was used to it. Still she kept her hand out as they passed, not wanting to make it easy for them.
“Please, just a farthing… just one farthing…”
The couple probably didn’t have a farthing. They probably had nothing smaller than a shilling. A shilling would have been wealth beyond Jessie’s dreams. She watched the couple go, disappointed but not surprised. Their sort rarely gave anything.
It had been a long, fruitless day. There were other options, more dangerous than begging. Two men were walking down the street towards her now. Their confident gait, the fine, expensive cut of their coats pointed them out as being very wealthy indeed. She looked down at her own rags. No point in even trying to tempt them, they would probably laugh in her face. But they might throw her a few coins. Or more likely they might hit her. Men like that it was best to steer clear of. They thought of beggars as little more than animals. She’d heard tales of what could happen to women like her, beaten to death for sport, found in an alley days later. No, it was best to stay hidden, then see if she could pick their pockets. The benefit of being small and quick was that she was able to strike quickly, take whatever they had and run. But she had to be careful with these two. If she was caught, and they were the type of man she suspected they were, she was dead.
There was little option. If she didn’t get food, find something to barter with for a warmer shawl, she was dead anyway. It was worth the risk.
Slipping back into the shadows of the doorway, Jessie waited. The two men walked past, not even sparing her a glance. She was, after all, invisible to most people. It could be an advantage, sometimes. Quietly, her worn shoes soft on the cobbled street, she began to follow them. The younger man glanced back and for a moment she thought she’d been spotted, but nothing came of it and he continued walking, talking to his companion.
It was almost too easy. Whatever the man was talking about, he was gesturing extravagantly, his hands well away from his coat. It was just a matter of reaching out, putting her hand in his coat pocket and...
“You picked the wrong man to steal from, you filthy little thief.”
Jessie gasped and would have dropped the wallet she was holding, but the man had moved impossibly fast and had her by the wrist, his grip painfully tight.
“Let me go!”
“Oh, I don’t think so.”
The man’s companion plucked the stolen wallet from Jessie’s grasp. “Here, Lord Harry. You should take better care. So much vermin on these streets.”
Harry snatched it back, replacing it in his pocket then glaring at Jessie. “Now the question, of course, is what do we do with you?”
There was an alley, dark and foreboding right behind them. Jessie cringed away from them, cursing her own stupidity. But she was cold and tired and hungry, and bound to make mistakes. She tried to pull away, but Lord Harry just gripped her more tightly.
“Oh, I don’t think so. You would have robbed me, little girl. There are few who are foolish or brave enough to do that. Which are you? Brave, or foolish?”
Jessie wasn’t sure of the answer. Sometimes, like now, she thought she might be both. “Let me go,” she repeated. “Please.”
“Please?” He looked to his companion. “Some manners after all. What do you think, Sir James? Should I let her go?”
Sir James, if that was the older gentleman’s name, looked at her as if she were some tediously tiresome thing. Perhaps to him she was. “Let her go, keep her, it’s of no consequence to me.”
“Even if she’s dinner?”
Jessie froze at his words. The man who held her was young, handsome, and yet there was something unutterably cruel and pitiless in his dark gaze. As if he had no soul, no care for anyone or anything. He had to be joking about the dinner though, teasing her, trying to frighten her.
Sir James looked down at her scornfully. “I think not. I prefer my food washed, and correctly dressed for the table.”
Jessie tugged harder, trying desperately to free herself. These were the sort of people she’d heard about, the ones who would kill her kind for sport, she was sure of it. Someone would stumble across her body in that alleyway tomorrow, pale and lifeless, drained of blood like those bodies so often were.
“Well,” Lord Harry didn’t appear remotely concerned. “You truly are a most fastidious soul, James. But that can be arranged. I would imagine this little thing will clean up fairly well.” He jerked her arm, pulling her closer and then clamping his hand across the back of her neck. He had moved so fast there had been only the briefest microsecond when she could have run. She knew she would never have made it. “Gods, you do reek.”
His grip was hard and strong on her neck, and she knew he could break it in an instant. “Let go,” she gasped once again.
“Ah, no. You’ll come with us, or I’ll have you arrested as a pickpocket and whore. Little thing like you wouldn’t last long in the cells. So come along, and if you struggle or scream I’m sure you can feel how easily I could snap your little neck like a twig.”
“Don’t hurt me…”
“Oh, it won’t hurt. Come now.” And he led her along the street, half-pushing, half-dragging her. Jessie didn’t think she could scream. And he was right, the police would never believe her word over theirs.
They moved quickly along the street, and Jessie noticed the way that no passer-by would meet her gaze, silently imploring for help. But then, would she have done in their place? The man’s grip never let up, and she had no doubt that he would follow through on his threat.
All too soon they’d reached one of the newly built townhouses. If these men could afford one of those then they could easily buy their way out of any trouble, any inconvenience the death of a beggar girl might have for them.
“Please…”
“Hush now,” Lord Harry waited whilst Sir James unlocked the door. Jessie struggled then, despite their threats. Once she was through that door she was dead anyway.
She opened her mouth to scream, but it was too late. Somehow she was already inside and the door had closed. They had once again moved impossibly fast, the two men.
Inside, the house was beautiful. A vast marble staircase rose up from the entrance hall, winding its way around and leading up to rooms unseen.
Jessie was fairly sure she didn’t want to see them.
“Please don’t hurt me, please let me go,” she begged over and over as they dragged her down the corridor to the room beyond.
It looked like a kitchen, clean and scrubbed down. They’d talked of dinner, but surely that had just been to frighten her? She could feel her heart racing.
“Please…”
“You have quite a limited vocabulary,” Lord Harry told her. He let go of her neck, and took a step back, regarding her carefully.
It was probably the only chance she was going to get, and she took it. Jessie ran. She fled down the corridor as fast as she could, heading for the door.
It was locked, of course, and bolted.
“She’s very quick, even now,” Lord Harry commented. The two men, or whatever they were, had followed her. “And a strong survival instinct. I like that. What do you say to a wager?”
Sir James regarded her, and she had the feeling she was being sized up, judged. “A hunt? Those can be problematic, Hal. What part of keeping a low profile don’t you understand?”
Lord Harry or Hal, or whatever his name was shook his head. Jessie noticed that he was looking excited, enthused by the prospect of whatever idea had come to him. She tried the door again, jumping up, trying to reach the bolt. It was far too high for her.
“I was thinking that after we’ve fed we could turn her. Take one of those other women from the street as well. One each. Raise them up to be the best they can be then set them against each other. The winner lives. You may have this one if you like.”
“And the stakes?”
“Your manor house against my town house. Oh come now, James, what’s life without a little risk? It’s not as if that’s the only property you own.”
“This is the only decent property that you own.”
Hal shrugged. “That you know of.” He stuck out his hand. “Shake on it? Or don’t you think you can do it?” He looked at Jessie again. “Or we could just feed on her now. She’s probably quite delicious, terrified, that sweet blood pumping through her veins. We could share…”
Jessie turned, struggling with the door even though she knew it was hopeless. There wasn’t even a key in the huge lock. Sir James was looking around, regarding the house.
“I accept,” he said finally. “I am fond of this place, it would suit me very well. Prepare to lose.”
Jessie wasn’t sure what it meant for her. It couldn’t be good. None of this was good.
And then, suddenly, Sir James was on her. There was a brief, frightening glimpse of those sharp, vicious fangs. And they’d lied about the pain…
---
Jessie wasn’t sure which of the two men she feared most. She had been left alone with Sir James, Hal having already tired of her, gone off to look for another victim. Whoever he brought back, as Jessie understood it, she would eventually have to kill. It was what she was now, the mythical, impossible term. Vampyre.
At least she was alive. And she felt strong, stronger than she had in a long time.
Sir James walked around her, sizing her up.
“I want this house,” he said eventually. “You’ll do everything I say, learn to hunt, learn to survive. Afterwards, if you win, you can live life to a better standard than you’ve ever dreamed of. It’s not a bad deal for someone like you. So, I must call you something. What’s your name?”
“Jessie, Sire.”
“A small name for a small creature. You are part of a superior race now, and should be named accordingly, Lady Jessica. And you will earn it, earn your existence here just as you’ll earn this house for me. Because we are going to win that wager. Now, follow me.”
Jessica shivered, once again cold in her rags, but walked obediently after him, through the huge house. She was still hungry, though it was becoming more of a craving now.
Perhaps she would never stop being hungry.