writing_shadows

The car screamed down the motorway, the dial showing it was pushing past 100mph, with no signs of stopping as it zoomed into the dark of the New Forest. Here, the motorway turned into an A road, which sliced through the bracken of the park's north edge. The passenger, younger, blonder, slighter in build than his companion, was rocking forward, the adrenaline surge still shaking him. He let out a stream of filth, then looked out of the window once more. Southampton sparkled in the distance, gleaming golden lights along the shore.

"Do you think we got them?" he asked.

His companion didn't respond immediately. Instead, his eyes remained locked on the road. Then, with a twitch of his nose, he nodded. "Even vamps can't stand fire. There was no way out of there. We burned them all alive."

"Good," the passenger said, a little too eagerly. It was his first time, and he didn't want to show how badly the whole murder thing affected him. He looked at his hands; he was still trembling. "I mean, it is good. I think? I know we killed some people tonight...

"Not people."

"Right, right. Not people - or at least not anymore."

"They were already dead. Remember that."

"Right... not people. Anyway, I know we killed them again. But it feels..."

"Righteous," the driver said, his voice steady and resolute as he brought the wheel around, swinging them onto the Dibden turning.

The passenger nodded, his mind dancing with a thousand questions. He had just thrown two molotov cocktails into a cellar bar with a blocked fire escape. In the middle of the city centre. Even with the balaclava, he wondered if somehow he'd get caught. They all got caught, didn't they, in the movies? And what if the bar had a real human being in there? He couldn't contemplate it... it wasn't worth thinking about, but he couldn't stop himself.

"You did fine," the driver said, calm and measured. "Once we change motors, that's it - done. Police will know someone firebombed the Rabbit Hole, and there'll be a hunt. But nobody will think of us; we've got nothing to do with the bar. No connections."

"We'll be on CCTV..."

"With our faces covered. And nobody is going to notice anyone in a weekend crowd standing around the Bargate. They couldn't have made themselves more vulnerable."

"Stupid demons," the young man said, trying to mimic the others' confidence, and instead sounding like a petulant teen.

"Yeah," the driver said. "Stupid demons. But even demons burn."