The Clockwork Hero and the Bravest of Girls

By Juliet Boyd

Two vampire hunters, from two different times.

I have been hunting vampires since I was fashioned by my creator, Beatrice Hansworthy. It is the only purpose of my existence. It is already over one hundred years since then and the era of steam is but a distant memory. I wish the same were true of vampires. I am alone in my mission, but I will persevere until it is complete. I will remain strong.

Some would say that twelve years old is too young to be hunting vampires — I might be one of them. Even though this is my destiny, and if my family doesn't do it, there's no one else, that doesn't mean I want to go out alone. I should tell my parents how I feel, but we have this rule — we never hunt together, because there are too few of us left to risk it. I know I have to try to be strong, but I'm really not feeling it.

What will happen if they decide to work together?

Get your copy of this middle grade novel, for kids aged ten and over, today. Discover whether these two hunters have the skills between them to finally rid the world of vampires and exactly how much they are willing to sacrifice to achieve their aim.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Juliet Boyd
• Release date: Nov 1, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393600718

Juliet Boyd

Juliet lives in Somerset in the south-west of England. She used to work in administration, but now writes full-time. Her main writing interests are fantasy, science fiction, weird fiction, horror and flash fiction. Details of her work are available on her website.

Book preview

On the Hunt

I do not know how to give up. I will succeed. I have to succeed.

***

Another night envelops the sky. I make my preparations and proceed to one of the locations in the city where the most sightings of strange goings on have been reported on newspaper stands. Many of them will be false positives, but, by the law of averages, some will be genuine. Averages rate highly in my calculations.

My pack is well stocked. I have enough darts with me to dispose of a clutch of vampires.

The streets are quiet. You would think that in a city the streets would never be truly that way, that you could never catch that moment when all sound subsides. It is unnervingly frequent. It makes my senses twitch.

This quiet is the effect vampires have. Wildlife can usually detect them and keeps well away. Humans, too, have that sense — I understand that it is somewhat like a prickle on the neck — that tells them something is awry, although they often ignore it to their peril.

I wish I were so lucky.

I do not possess any formal instinct. I understand patterns, cause and effect, probability. These things define how I take my decisions. It is still intelligence, but it has none of the emotional encumbrance that humans possess, or the fight-or-flight reaction of most other creatures. I have two states, once I have detected what I came for. One, wait till the optimal moment. Two, take action.

The optimal moment cannot always be determined in a precise fashion. I do get it wrong. All the calculations in the world cannot overcome that split-second reaction of instinct.

Vampires live completely off instinct, but it is the kind of instinct that knows everything about flesh and blood and nothing about machinery.

They do not understand that binary code is the basis of my communication. Therefore, they cannot interrupt my signals, or sense my thoughts, such as they are. I am not even a whisper in the depths of their brains. That does not mean that they cannot hear my movements. Every click of my beat is heard, but frequently misunderstood.

Settled in a shop doorway, well away from any rough sleepers, so that I do not risk signalling their presence, I remain immobile. My visual and aural sensors do all of the work. Once again, I am looking for patterns. Things such as speed and stealth are the first indicators. If either of these is present, the next indicator is elegance. Vampires do not walk like humans, with heavy thuds and hunched shoulders. The cadence of their steps is unique. Even a dancer could not fake being a vampire, although a vampire could likely pass as a dancer, if it so wished. That is highly unlikely.

After two hours, with no sightings, I move to another location, at an underground train station entrance. The station is closed, but I can easily slip inside the diamond-patterned, metal security gate. I do not expect to find vampires inside, but the vantage point gives a wide view of a crossroads, with little chance of being detected.

It is only five minutes before something catches my sensors. The creature glides elegantly across to the other side of the road and heads away. Stealth - tick. Speed - cross. Elegance - double tick. There is not always a need for speed.

I check my wind before beginning my pursuit.

I can keep up, as long as the creature does not decide to run. This one is almost nonchalant in the way it walks. The fact that it is so self-absorbed probably means it has recently fed. It inhabits its own personal bliss. That makes it less likely that the creature will be engaged with its environment.

It would be so easy. No. I must not attack. Click. Click.

It takes another turn, left, along the edge of what I believe to be a park. One quick glance behind and it vaults over the spiked, wrought-iron fence. It clears the danger without a problem. I crawl through the gaps with similar ease. And now, I have cover, which is even better. More often than not, there is a border of greenery around parks. I blend in well.

No. I am wrong. This is not a park. This is a graveyard.

It saunters past the gravestones, dragging its fingers across the rough stone surface of one that indicates a death long past. My sensors pick up the signs of a recent burial nearby, of soil disturbed, of flowers slowly decaying, the trappings of a funeral. The vampire ignores all of this and heads towards the church. It is a relatively small building, of the mediaeval era, in less than perfect repair. I know that crosses do not protect, and I have, for many years, subscribed to the premise that, even though church buildings are places where vampires are unlikely to exist, there is no reason they cannot. Everyone is welcome. Belief is not necessarily required.

The creature takes a quick look behind, in my direction, but way above my head, then disappears with its very own brand of sleight of body.

I dash across to where I last registered its presence, but it is long gone. I should have taken my chance.

It is at times like these that I am glad I do not feel true emotion. I have some sense of empathy and of loss, but happiness, sadness and anger have never filled my thoughts. I do feel the slight hitch in probability begin to take effect. Next time, I might make a different decision.

According to the data I have, the likelihood of another vampire passing by here is less than fifty per cent. The chance of the same vampire coming back is less than ten per cent. Still, something stalls me. It is several long minutes before I determine what it