
AVALON REVISITED
O. M. Grey
Blue Moose Press ~ Austin, TX
pen. produce. publish.
This is a work of fiction. The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Copyright 2010 by O. M. Grey. All rights reserved.
Cover Design by Catherine Somerlot
Edited by Nicole Hicks
ISBN-13: 978-0-9819949-8-7
eBook/Kindle Edition. Extended.
First Edition paperback also available via Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and wherever books are sold. 978-0-9819949-5-6
ATTENTION ORGANIZATIONS AND SCHOOLS:
Quantity discounts are available on bulk purchases of this book for educational purposes or fund raising.
For more information, go to
thebluemoosepress.com
omgrey.wordpress.com
Library of Congress Control Number: 2010903586
Grey, O. M., 1969 -
Avalon Revisited / by O. M. Grey
1. Paranormal Romance--Fiction. II. Title.
ISBN-13: 978-0-9819949-8-7
AVALON REVISITED
O. M. Grey
for my husband
"I was to be the King of England."
Before I died.
Of course, I didn't say the latter aloud. Not yet. That would give too much away too soon. No need to cause alarm yet. After all, I did enjoy watching the looks on their faces when I tell them I was to be king. It was true, of course, but they never believed it.
"King," she said with a twinkle of humor in her eye. Her perfectly lined lips curled up slightly in one corner. She was taking the bait. She was amused, but more importantly, she was intrigued.
In a candlelit library we sat together on a white French Provincial sofa, a little too close for polite company, but then, I wasn't polite company.
"You. Were to be king." It wasn't a question. It was merely a statement of complete disbelief.
After all, I did look like quite young, but the truth was much more complicated than that. Wasn't it always?
I smiled and moved in closer, sliding slowly along the silk cushions towards her. She watched me close the distance between us and smiled a little wider, despite herself. I leaned in as if for a kiss, but instead brushed my nose softly along her jawline. "I was." I breathed the words into her ear, letting my lips graze the pearl dangling from her earlobe. This one looked even more delicious than she smelled. That was a rarity. Especially for a woman her age. Normally, these middle-aged women had let their looks go. But not this one. She was still quite the beauty in her gown of deep scarlet, lined with black lace. The collar was wide, stretching from shoulder to shoulder, allowing me complete access to her neck, save for a choker: three strings of pearls clamped tight around her throat with a cameo adorning its center. She had a tiny hat embellished with an even tinier sailboat, pearls, and black lace, all perched purposefully crooked on top of her perfectly coiffed hair. Each copper curl shone in the candlelight, and I was entranced. She smelled of freshly picked heather on a warm Scottish evening. I wanted to roll and play in that heather. I wanted to pluck the blooms from its stems. I wanted to bury my nose in that heather and breathe in its luxurious scent.
I wanted her. But I kept my head and didn't move too fast, lest I would've given myself away.
She didn't recoil at my closeness, but rather seemed humored by it.
"You can't be a day over twenty, lad, and you were to be king? Do tell, whatever happened to joust you from the royal line?" The dark lady turned her head cooly away from me and sipped the wine held by her black satin gloved hand. I softly traced my fingers along the hairline at the nape of her neck, and I saw her suppress a shiver. Good. She turned back and slightly leaned into me, playing my game.
The candlelight emphasized the smile lines around her eyes. She was forty if she was a day, and she felt flattered by the attentions of a younger man. Especially when said attention was offered by one as handsome and charming as I, at least, seemed. Her husband was nearly thirty years her senior, so she welcomed passion.
"I'm a little older than twenty," I said as I brushed my lips up the curve of her delicate ear, exhaling warm air as I did so. I felt her shudder beneath my touch. She didn't even try to conceal it. We both knew where this was heading.
I had her now. She was not only intrigued; she was open to being seduced. Obvious, really, since she thought I was joking about being king, as Victoria had been on the throne for well over sixty years, but she didn't scoff at the game. She reveled in it. She likely hadn't felt the thrill of seduction in well over a decade or two. However the kind of seduction she had in mind was quite different than what I had planned for her tonight.
The music played loudly in the adjoining room as the rest of the gala attendees danced or spoke to each other in raised voices, competing with the music. Still, it wasn't so loud that they wouldn't hear a scream, even back in this dimly lit library. No. Had to continue to move slowly.
The smell of musty books filled the air, and I was reminded of my father. Always reading.
Always urging Henry and I to read and learn. We had had private tutors who taught us foreign languages and told stories of faraway lands. We learned about history and philosophy and theology and mathematics. It was all essential for our destiny. Me, future king, and Henry being groomed to be Archbishop. He had said we were the future of the kingdom. Well, he was half right. Henry had been the future, but now he was just the past.
"I died," I sighed an answer to her question then nuzzled my cold nose in the nape of her warm, pulsing neck. Not yet.
She didn't recoil at this dark disclosure, as she likely thought it was all part of this decadent game. Rather, she welcomed the soft kisses I placed on her neck. She shivered at the touch of my cold lips but moved in closer still. She was ready. Dare I say even earnest. She didn't stop my hand exploring her thigh hidden beneath layers of satin. A soft moan escaped her lips, and I knew I had her. I continued teasing this dark lady, drawing out her desire. She caught her breath as I traced my tongue up the side of her throat to her white earlobe, circling around the pearl drop that hung delicately from it.
Then something across the room caught my eye. In the pale candlelight, an image on the far wall mocked me. A corpulent man stared back at me with black eyes. His gold doublet and fur-trimmed coat framed the fleshy jowls that held a smirking mouth. A replica of a painting, for even the sumptuous hosts of this opulent gala couldn't afford the original Holbein. This painting I knew far too well. I had been forced to look at this likeness for centuries, and it always made me think about the road not taken, as if I had had a choice in the matter. Feelings similar to but not quite nostalgia filled my mind and ached in my chest. Perhaps it was more like sentimentality. If my heart still beat, it would be the rhythm to a sad song. But that's part of my lament: my hollow chest. Every time I see that blasted painting of my fat, arrogant brother, I'd think, that should have been me.
But it wasn't me. It was not my fate to be king. That was his fate. My little, immature brother.
My fate was to die, but I should've stayed dead. Over three-hundred years later, and I finally understood. I should have stayed dead.
"Why ever did you stop, dear boy?" The woman leaned into me, caressing my pale cheek with the back of her black satin hand. I hadn't realized that I had pulled away from her while I had been caught up in my own remorse. She must have seen the sadness in my eyes, for she was becoming maternal. Mustn't allow that. Time for a bolder move. Shaking off the past, I turned towards her and kissed her gently at first. But as she welcomed me with parted lips, I deepened the kiss. As my tongue swirled with hers, I drank in the warmth of her mouth, of her being. She didn't seem put off by my coldness, but then few did when I had progressed this far. She ran her hand up my thigh, sending a spark through my core. My own roaming hand found her breast and cupped the soft flesh peeking out from the hard corset beneath.
I wanted to rip that corset off. Perhaps we had the same seduction in mind after all.
"Arthur," she breathed. I couldn't remember her name, but it didn't matter. She was Catherine. They were all Catherine.
As I caressed her nipple over her evening gown, a small sound escaped from her pouty mouth. It was the sound of pure pleasure. No one had touched her like this in quite some time, and she was hungry for more. Then I slipped my thumb under the top ridge of her corset, grazing the nipple nestled beneath. Her hips moved involuntarily, and she arched her back in longing.
"Let us move to more private quarters," she whispered, breathless.
Fine with me.
She stood and properly smoothed out her skirts. Years of social training didn't just disappear, even in a rush of desire. With a coy glance, she reached back for my hand and guided me out of the library's side door.
The other guests were still busy with merrymaking and gossip, so no one saw us steal away.
For how could they, as each couple were but interested in their own lives. Each man wanting to do what I was about to do, and each lady pretending that they didn't. They danced and drank and held up the pretense of civility, but I knew the truth. Beneath the facade we were all carnal beasts, hungry for the flesh.
As we climbed the grand staircase to the bedchambers above, I watched her bustled hips sway, and I hardened. I knew I would have her. I knew I'd be buried in the warmth beneath that bustle within the hour. I stiffened further, then adjusted myself with my free hand, never taking my eyes off that swaying bustle.
After all, I deserved some pleasure now and again. I deserved lifetimes of pleasure after watching my brother take my throne and then take my wife all those years ago. I had watched it all from the shadows of darkness. I had watched him cast my Catherine aside and make time with strumpet after strumpet, marrying some, but using more. He had made the throne of England a mockery. Then, with some delight, I had watched him get old and fat and eventually die. I had watched his children fight for the throne and kill those around them to secure their position.
That I didn't mind too much. Especially Mary, the daughter of my beloved Catherine, she had a thirst for blood that rivaled even mine! Unfortunately she didn't last too long. Bitterness hardened her heart, making it all that much easier to irreparably shatter when her husband had abandoned her. Elizabeth had followed and surprised us all, setting England back to rights. The country's savior in skirts. They had called her Gloriana. Regina. The Virgin Queen. It was then I chose to leave England in search of new blood, as it were.
Now I returned to another hard woman on the throne. This one was not near as attractive as my niece had been. Women. Not one had heated my blood the way Catherine did. Not in these long centuries, but she betrayed me after I died. Denying our love to secure her place as Queen.
Politics over love.
I never understood it.
I would have been a foolish king.
Now I took a page from my brother's book. Love them and leave them. Well, in my case, kill them.
Come to think of it, he killed a few himself. Bravo, brother.
"In here," she said, still in hushed tones as she led me into a vacant bedchamber, pulling my attention out of the dead past into the present. There was much more pleasure to be had here.
She stood awkwardly in the middle of the room and fiddled with her hands, then straightened her skirts again. She looked everywhere but at me, and there was a slight blush to her cheek.
What had happened to the seductive mistress from downstairs? Now a demure damsel stood in her place. It was obvious she hadn't done this in quite a while. She seemed so innocent in her nervousness. It was rather sweet, but not as sweet as her blood would taste.
I leaned back against the door, snapping it shut, and surveyed the room. Frilly lace dripped off every surface. Heavy taupe curtains draped the edges of the four poster bed sitting in the center of the room on a raised platform. The walls were lined with fine art framed in gold, and the chairs were all properly skirted. London High Society. How droll.
Gathering her courage, my prey sat on the edge of the large bed and gingerly patted the spot next to her, inviting me over.
Didn't have to ask me twice.
I forced myself to move slowly, as my natural speed would startle her. Sitting closely beside her, I took her hand into mine and kissed it. She giggled, as if all this reminded her of younger days. She turned away as if suddenly bashful.
"Are you blushing, my sweet," I whispered into her ear, before I traced my tongue down the side of her neck. "Certainly this isn't your first time. A woman of your age?"
She cleared her throat, leaned away, and looked at me nonplussed. It was not proper to speak of a woman's age. That question threw her off, just as I had hoped. I did like to toy with them, like a cat playing with a mouse.
"Well!" she said exasperated, snatching her hand away from mine.
Ah yes. Time to feign offense.
I just ignored her, even though the temperature of the room had dropped to colder than my own body temperature. I could feel the chill in the air, but a specific part of me was generating enough heat for the both of us. I resumed kissing her neck as if nothing had happened, and after a moment or two she once again softened beside me. She wasn't about to give up the only chance she had for such a romp. Perhaps my faux pas would at least help her drop the pretense of innocence.
She turned into me and lifted my head, eager for more. She kissed me full on the lips, parting them with her aggressive, soft tongue.
Pretense dropped!
As the kiss deepened I lifted her to a standing position, striving to press against her. My excitement drove through her layers of clothes, and she felt my hardness pressed up against her leg. To my great surprise, she smiled, breaking the kiss. She ran her gloved hand up my inseam, and now it was I who gasped.
Certainly not her first time.
She massaged my shaft through my trousers and started kissing me again. I ran my hands up and down her body, trying to figure out how to get inside that corset. Sometimes they were inside, sometimes out. Sometimes laced in front, others in back. Her gown was so exquisitely crafted, however, that I could not discern where to begin. Her caressing hand was urging me on.
Even one as experienced as I could only take so much stimulation and this woman was indeed stimulating. My desire for her flesh mounted, and the desire for her blood wasn't far behind. The need began to consume me. That all-encompassing need. The hunger. The darkness that kept me dead yet alive. The thirst, but I had to keep it at bay. Just a little longer. After all, there were two needs to satisfy tonight.
I spun her around, holding her close with one arm while kissing her neck. With the other hand, I freed myself from the burden of my trousers. Grinding myself against her hips, I nibbled gently down her neck until she moaned. That small sound was all I could stand.
In a blur of movement that surprised even me, I bent her over the bed and hiked up her crimson skirts. She gasped, knowing what was to follow. That beautiful bustle stared up at me.
But I slowed down, wanting her to need me inside her more than she needed to breathe. I took my time and savored the vision before me. White stockings stretched from her white-heeled, laced-up boots, its seam perfectly straight, guiding me up the back of her legs to her thighs. I ran a hand up each seam from her delicate ankles up to the top of her stockings. Then, flesh.
Velvety white flesh that was as pale as my own hands. At the apex, a pink blossom, covered in dew. My hands caressed between her thighs and then softly between her petals, just once, causing her to squirm, her breath coming faster. Standing, I grazed something else between those rosy gates, feeling her wetness on my tip. I teased her at first, barely nudging the head inside her.
She tried to thrust back into me, but I wouldn't let her. Not yet.
She grabbed at the lacy off-white bed covering frantically, taking handfuls of Venetian lace in her fists. She rested her shoulders and cheek on the bed. Her delicate features were twisted in a mixture of agony and pleasure. Yearning and suspense.
"Ask me," I said to her, sliding my tip up and down her moist nook.
But she couldn't speak. She was too hungry for words.
"Ask me," I repeated.
"Please," she managed between shallow breaths. One of her hands began grabbing desperately at her corset, trying to relieve the pressure.
I increased the pace of gliding up and down her misty petals, pressing harder against her. Her breath coming faster and faster until I brought her. She cried out in delight as her body drenched me with its pleasure.
It was all I could take. I plunged inside her, giving her what we both wanted. Grabbing her hips with both hands, I crashed into her repeatedly, watching her scarlet bustle dance along with us. She came again and again, singing her exultation into the night, but I held out.
I withdrew from her, still throbbing, and threw her up onto the bed. She turned over and looked at me, face flush. She grabbed at her bodice again, probably unable to breathe in her restraints. I didn't care about how to carefully get into her dress anymore, so I ripped it open to the corset and then ripped that down the seams. No time for unlacing. Her breasts, now free, swelled in her excitement. I gripped one, teasing her nipple with my tongue before moving on to the other.
She took a deep breath and pulled me on top of her, kissing me deeply. She angled her hips toward me, and I slid back inside her, more gently this time, allowing her to kiss me as I rocked against her. She met each thrust in kind.
I had always been amazed at the passion of these High Society London women. All the stuffiness and etiquette that had been strapped so tightly inside their corset was unleashed in the bedroom. Good for me.
We moved together faster and harder, until she came again. She threw her head back and cried out, loudly. Surely the party below had to be able to hear us, but I didn't care about that.
Not now. For now it was my turn. I bore down on her, grabbing her shoulders as I thrust deeper and deeper inside her. Her head was still thrown back in ecstasy, giving me the perfect opportunity. I ripped the pearl choker from her throat. My fangs descended and I plunged them into her neck while still thrusting inside her. She screamed, but not in terror, in euphoria again.
I exploded inside her just as her blood began to gush into my mouth. I held her beneath me as she began to squirm. She was shouting something, but I didn't hear words. I was too engulfed in the rapture of her blood. I drank deep, and I heard her heartbeat begin to slow. Before I could bring myself to pull away, it had stopped all together.
I had lost control in my passion and killed her. I had only intended to feed and then wipe her memory of it.
Oh well.
I withdrew from her and redressed. Her blood, the little I had left, trickled down the side of her throat and stained the ivory bed, coloring it to match her fine gown. I ripped some lace off the canopy and wiped my mouth clean.
There she lay. Legs spread wide. Breasts lolled out. Glassy eyes of death: a vision.
Still, must allow her some dignity, I thought, so I straightened her legs and covered her up with her skirts. She probably wouldn't be found until morning or perhaps afternoon. Not until the chambermaid did her rounds. This was a guest room, so it was low priority without a guest present.
I pulled my watch out of the small pocket in my waistcoat and looked at the time.
I still had hours before dawn.
Perhaps a dance or two before I retire.
My butler walked across the dining room to the balcony overlooking Kensington Road where I liked to start my days with a hot cup of tea. With one hand, he balanced a silver platter on which he carried today's newspaper. The other arm was properly tucked in close to his stomach, hand clenched in a soft fist. The perfectly folded towel draped across that arm bounced against his belly as he moved towards me.
Of all the rooms in my home, this one was the brightest, albeit still rather dark. The walls were of a deep rose accented in gold. Huge portraits of noble men long forgotten stood proudly in their golden frames that hung along each wall. Heavy wine-colored curtains framed both front-facing windows, beneath one of which I sat at a small, round table waiting for my tea. An iron fireplace dominated the middle of one wall. Dormant, as it was too warm to have a fire at this time of year, but it certainly added to the comfort of the room when I entertained guests in the winter. A long wooden table sitting atop a lengthy burgundy rug filled the center of the room.
The table wasn't currently set, although a silver candelabra surrounded by fresh flowers served as a centerpiece until my next dinner party. Over it hung a grand wrought iron chandelier, lit only during dinner parties, as wax dripping from so many candles became quite tiresome to endure. At the opposite end of the room was an alcove that held a beautiful mural of a pastoral scene, similar to that seen in Italian Villas. I did enjoy my finery.
"Good morning, m'lord."
"It's afternoon, Cecil. I know it's morning for me," I said as Cecil opened his mouth to protest, "but we must be accurate in these things."
"Of course, m'lord. Your paper, m'lord," he said smugly with an expression to match his tone.
"Thank you."
I took the paper from Cecil, and the headlines screamed at me: VAMPYRE ATTACK
"Oh dear."
"Your cheeks look quite rosy this morning, m'lord," Cecil said, folding the now empty platter under his arm. One corner of his mouth turned up in a crooked smile.
"Enough, Cecil. Bring me more tea."
"Yes, m'lord. Right away, m'lord." Cecil smirked as he bowed, then turned to leave the room. A small, stout man, Cecil was the perfect butler. He was professional and courteous. He was supportive and, most importantly, discreet.
I read the article about the vampire attack while waiting for more tea, but there was no mention of a suspect. Yet. The article reported that the police found the victim's body in a
"compromising position."
"It was certainly compromised," I mumbled to myself, remembering the delicious pleasure of the previous night. I could still feel the warmth of her surrounding me and filling my mouth at the same time. Ah. The meaning of my life: pleasures of the flesh. Everything else had melted away into a blur of faded memories and stolen dreams. Existence became quite tedious after the first century. One finds pleasures where one can.
From my north-facing balcony, I looked out onto Hyde Park stretching out in shades of green before me. Speckled amongst the foliage were a swarm of what appeared to be multicolored insects, at least from my perspective. Some carried parasols, others walking canes. It was a Saturday, so many families were taking a turn around the park's loveliness. Surprisingly it wasn't raining. An airship hung in the sky, suspended over the trees. Its propellers moved far too slowly, one would think, to hold up such a massive balloon. I didn't understand this modern technology, and I didn't care to. Dirigibles were the latest fascination in London. On pleasant Saturday afternoons such as today, a well-known airship captain would give commoners rides for a crown.
Saturday evenings were reserved for London's crème de la crème. Tonight, that would include me. I have never been on an airship before, but I'm certain it will be quite the experience.
Although it was summer, it was almost always overcast. This made it a perfect place for one like me to live. I still didn't venture out during daylight hours too often, in case the sun decided to peek out without warning. However I was able to go out before dusk on most days and in the rain, of course, which in London was quite often. Today, it would be important for me to be seen during the daylight hours. Just in case someone saw me with the woman last night. My place in London society demanded it, as did the impression of my innocence.
Cecil returned with the tea.
"One drop or two?" Cecil inquired while filling my cup with the steaming hot liquid.
"Just one today. I had my fill last evening."
Cecil peeled back his sleeve and exposed a leather cuff encircled with a rubber tube. The contraption was held on his arm with two leather belts, which fastened on the bottom. On top of his wrist, connected to one side of the tubing, was a pressure valve; the other side, a small spigot.
Holding his wrist over the cup of tea, Cecil opened the spigot until a single drop of blood plopped into my cup. The pressure valve bobbed momentarily and then steadied again.
Perhaps modern technology did have its perks.
"Will that be all m'lord?" Cecil asked as he dabbed the end of the spigot, creating a tiny red spot on the white towel always kept over his arm, before pulling his starched white sleeve back over the starched cuff. His appearance was always impeccably perfect.
"Yes, Cecil. That will be all."
Cecil turned to leave with a curt nod and I picked up the newspaper again. He was nearly to the doorway when I stopped him.
"Oh yes. There is one more thing, Cecil."
"Yes, m'lord?" he said, making a sharp about-face.
"Have Thomas ready the carriage," I said, still looking at the paper in my hands. "I'm going out."
"Today, m'lord?"
"Yes, Cecil. I would like to go out today," I responded, indicating the headline with a flap of my hand. The middle of the newspaper bore an ad for airship rides in the park. A large drawing of a balloon suspended over a ship dominated most of the ad. The words HYDE PARK were displayed boldly across the top.
"But, m'lord. It is a rather nice day and there are many people about."
I snapped the newspaper down into my lap and turned towards him.
"Yes, Cecil, what of it?" I spat.
"You don't like people, m'lord. Also, m'lord, you have the party tonight."
"Of course, how very, very trite. But one must find such distractions, Cecil, or one's life will become too unbearable to, well, bear."
The meaninglessness of existence truly had hit me when I turned forty, twenty-five years after my death. I had grown tired of life, mine and theirs. All of it. I couldn't see much point to it.
One was born. One lived for a certain number of mostly agonizing years, and then one died.
Truly pointless. All around me people lived, well, survived, as one couldn't call what most did living, mostly in utter misery, yet they were afraid of death. Strange. Seems as if death would be a release from the monotony and pain of life, but there it was. Of course, I'm one to talk. Over 350 years later I still existed. I was unable to conceive of nothingness, so I just continued to survive. Find distractions when I could. Did whatever to pass the time. Pleasure when possible.
Tried to live for the moment, as the past was just a dream and the future, a mirage.
Cecil stood by the stone archway that separated the dining room from the hall, as if waiting for me to come to my senses. The distance across the polished hardwood floor between this person, alive for such a short time, and I who was so very old, seemed endless. And yet he questioned me.
"Cecil. The coach," I said with a hint of impatience as I returned to the newspaper.
"Yes, m'lord."
I stepped out into the dirty cobblestone streets of London a short while later. Dirty, of course, was relative. Since they had cobbled the streets, it was much cleaner than the old muddy roads of my time. I remembered when father caught Henry and I playing in the rain, splashing through the mud puddles along the road. I couldn't have been more than ten years old, which had made Henry just five. We had laughed and splashed from puddle to puddle, muddying our fine royal garments. Father had scolded us for behaving like peasants, but I still fancied that I saw a twinkle in his eye. Or at least I wished it there, for how could a father had felt anything but joy at watching his sons play? If anyone could have felt anger, he could have. Such a hard man. We had been whipped, of course, for the ermine would never again be white.
Such petty squabblings. Why did such insignificant memories remain over so many years?
The cobbling of today still had low spots, and I had seen children play in its puddles.
Somehow not as fun without the mud. It did also make for quite a racket with all the carriages clattering over them. Not a moment's peace.
It was a cool, cloudy day, but the sun could possibly come out. Must take precautions.
"Hyde Park, Thomas," I said to my coachman, tapping the tip of my special walking stick on the cobblestones, glad for the lack of mud today. Glad for the centuries between me and my father.
"Very good, m'lord," he responded as he opened the carriage door for me.
I stepped up into my brougham and sat in the middle of the seat, laying the cane across my lap. After the crack of the whip and a sudden jolt, we rattled our way into Hyde Park.
There were far more people out today than I could have seen from the advantage of my balcony. It was, after all, one of the nicer days I had ever seen in London, and I'd spent most of my existence in this city. And a perfect day it was. Grey, but bright. Slightly warm with just a hint of a cool breeze. Days like this one were few and far between.
I rapped on the roof of the coach with my walking stick.
"Thomas," I called out.
"Yes, m'lord?" he shouted back.
I leaned my head out of the window after checking to see that the sun mightn't suddenly appear. "Somewhere shady," I said. "Perhaps on the eastern shore of The Serpentine."
"Yes, m'lord," he replied.
I settled back into the middle of the black leather seat and watched as we passed London life.
London life hadn't changed that much over the centuries. Here was the old maid, bitter from a hard life. Here was the scowling married couple, sick of each other's presence. Here was the young lover trying to woo his mistress. Here were the group of young ladies gossiping about their latest fancy. Here were the children full of hope in a world full of sorrows they can't even begin to comprehend. No. London life hadn't changed much, but women's fashion styles changed continuously. The colors got brighter then gradually became drab, but they always cycled back to vibrant again. The necklines plunged then crept back up to the chin, and then they plunged once again, to my great delight. The skirts got fuller, and then gradually shrank.
Still, one didn't normally see anything one hadn't seen before. It was all pretty much the same, and it did get ever so dull.
Thomas pulled up to the shady end of The Serpentine, and I stepped out.
"Stay nearby, Thomas. I may need you soon."
"Very good, m'lord," he said.
"Keep watch for the sun."
"Of course, m'lord," he replied. Then with a "Yah!" and a snap of his whip, he drove the carriage a little ways off before stopping again, and I made my way beneath the shade of the trees. I had brought along the blanket I always kept in the boot just for such an occasion to sit upon and my special walking stick could quickly transform into a parasol, if needed. A very manly parasol, mind you.
Fortunately, the fashion for men in these times was modest, to say the least. Wearing gloves and a hat on a warm summer's day wasn't unusual, and I liked to keep as much of my skin as possible covered. Only my face was directly exposed to the air. I wore a high collar, a little higher than fashion would normally allow, but I had the reputation for being a little off, so it mattered not. I did miss the high collars of a few decades back, but such was the way of fashion.
"Arthur? Well, what a nice surprise!" I heard a woman's voice say as I spread the blanket out beneath a very shady spot. I turned to see Lady Pearson, a woman of great repute.
"Lady Pearson, what a delightful surprise," I said, bowing to kiss her offered hand. She was magnificently clothed in a deep rose-colored walking dress with matching plum parasol. Huge bustle.
"Arthur, I've told you a dozen times to call me Eliza."
"Of course, Eliza. Lovely day."
"These are my dear friends: Lady Bainbridge, wife to Baron Bainbridge of Yorkshire, and Lady Hamilton, wife to Baron Hamilton of Wishaw. Ladies, this is Viscount Arthur York."
I, of course, no longer went by my given surname of Tudor. It raised far too many questions, as my family's, especially my brother's, history was far too notorious. There were few Tudors remaining, so the name was too unusual for my purposes. I wished to remain as invisible as possible. Any mention of the name Tudor called up conversation of my brother's sordid history, about which I was loathe to discuss, and that inane rhyme: divorced, beheaded, died, divorced, beheaded, survived. He had ruined my Catherine, and it was upsetting to relive it over afternoon tea.
Either that or the bloody history of my niece Mary. I did rather like talking about that, but my opinion of her methods was certainly not the popular one of the time. Best to avoid the subject.
York fit well, as I was half York, but it was also common enough to not raise an eyebrow.
"Pleasure," I said, bowing. The ladies curtsied and batted their eyes at me from behind their ornate fans, which matched their outfits perfectly. As did their parasols. They were all the same general age, this was to say between forty and fifty. No doubt their husbands, the honorable barons, were considerably older. Which was why I had my pick of ripe women. It was a good life.
"Won't you join me, ladies?"
"It would be our pleasure," said Lady Bainbridge with a flirtatious spin of her parasol, obviously the boldest of the lot. She was dressed in garish yellow, the color of effulgent sunshine. I feared the brightness of her dress would dust me on the spot.
Lady Hamilton was thankfully dressed in a more muted shade of soft pink. Their colorful celebration of springtime no doubt made me look like a deep hole hidden among the blossoms, hoping for someone to misstep and twist their ankle while gathering flowers.
I stepped back to let them sit upon the blanket, and I took the back corner closest to the trees for myself. It was shady enough that the ladies no longer needed their parasols, so they collapsed them and laid them down.
"Lovely day," Lady Bainbridge offered, settling in. She curled her legs to the side, allowing her ankle to scandalously peek out from beneath her lemon skirts. Even with the high boots, ladies were not to show their ankles in public. This woman was indeed bold and quite open to seduction.
"It certainly is," I replied, pretending not to notice.
"Dreadful news from the party last night," Lady Bainbridge said. "Were you in attendance, Arthur?" She reached down to the edge of her skirt and paused, forcing my eyes there. Then she covered herself completely with the sunny ruffles.
"I was, Lady Bainbridge," I answered, snapping my eyes back to hers. She smiled, knowing she had my attention. "I was quite shocked to see the headlines this morning. Did you notice anything amiss?"
"Not at all, Lord York."
"Please, call me Arthur. I have always been uncomfortable with titles."
"Then you must call me Emily," insisted Lady Bainbridge.
"And me Hazel," Lady Hamilton added, blushing to a shade much deeper than her dress. She looked down at her hands delicately folded in her lap over her collapsed fan.
"Of course. Now that we are all confidants, what do you make of such news, Arthur?" Lady Bainbridge asked, pulling my attention back to her. She wasn't used to sharing attention, but I was quite intrigued by Lady Hamilton. She certainly would pose much more of a challenge.
"Like I said, I noticed nothing amiss," I replied politely.
"What of the victim?" said Lady Hamilton.
"Oh, Hazel. Had you not met the woman?" questioned Lady Pearson in a scandalous lilt.
"She was quite the harlot. Did you see what she was wearing last night? Scarlet, of all colors.
Actually suited her quite well. Got what she deserved, if you ask me. "
"Eliza!" gasped Lady Hamilton. How cute. She was genuinely offended. Flustered, she opened her fan and began fanning herself rather rapidly.
"Don't act so surprised, Hazel," said Lady Bainbridge. "She was quite the talk of the ladies.
Always dressing so drearily and flamboyantly at the same time. Wild fashions in such dark colors, no matter if it was summer, autumn, or winter. It was disgraceful."
"Indeed. But does anyone truly deserve such a fate?" I asked innocently.
"Well, I suppose she didn't deserve it. That was an unfortunate word to choose," Lady Pearson said, fanning her face lazily. "Perhaps I should have said that we couldn't be surprised that this happened to her. Had you known her, Arthur?"
"I hadn't the pleasure of making her acquaintance."
"Pity. She would have amused you," she said with a twinkle in her eye. She knew me too well. "Still, horrible business, this," she added and then closed her fan. She looked away from us, out across the still, blue water of The Serpentine. Perhaps she had to gather her composure. After all, she wasn't the savage among us.
"Yes. Vampire attack. I mean, how monstrous," I said in an appalled tone even I almost believed.
"Yes. Monstrous and shocking, indeed," added Lady Hamilton, fanning herself even more rapidly than before. I could see that this was upsetting the poor lady. She wasn't used to such frank conversation. I found it quite endearing and decided I definitely wanted to break her of this innocence.
"Let us talk of more pleasant things," I suggested. "Certainly you lovely ladies are attending the airship gala this evening?"
"Oh yes!" Lady Hamilton said, clapping her hands together rapidly, her eyes wide with innocent excitement. "I've always wanted to go up in an airship, but my husband says that it's all balderdash. He grudgingly agreed to go to this party, the ol' fuddy duddy, after I convinced him that everyone who is anyone will be there tonight." She giggled in delight.
"Quite," I said keeping my eyes on Lady Hamilton, who had regained her composure with a deep blush. So she was capable of excitement, although it was plain she didn't allow herself the luxury too often.
"I do hope they'll be scrubbing it down after all the commoners upon it today," Lady Pearson said with a scowl. She snapped her own fan open again and began waving it with an elitist air.
She recovered nicely.
I forced myself not to laugh.
"My husband still refuses to go, the old gammy," Lady Bainbridge said, looking over in the direction of the dirigible suspended over the tree tops. "I, of course, would be loathe to turn up alone, and I wouldn't miss this gala for all the tea of the crown."
"Whomever will you bring?" asked Lady Pearson.
"I believe I'll bring my spinster niece, if we can find a suitable gown for her. The woman needs to get out more anyway."
"Avalon?" Lady Pearson said with some degree of shock that caused her to freeze momentarily in mid-fan.
"Yes, I know. It is not ideal, but one does have a duty to one's family."
This was the best and worst part of London High Society, listening to women prattle on about seemingly nothing all while appearing to be captivated by their charms. Best when I was in the mood for amusement. Today, it was amusing.
"Are you ashamed of this niece?" I queried, feigning interest quite convincingly.
"But of course," Lady Bainbridge said in a rather condescending manner. "She cares nothing about fashion, often dressing more like a man than a woman. She rarely wears her hair styled, but I have made an agreement with her tonight. She does have a weakness for modern technology, so she has agreed to dress properly in exchange for admittance onto the airship." She looked extremely pleased with herself, as if she had won a long-lasting battle with the upper hand.
"Ho, ho! Arthur!" a voice broke my attention away from the ladies. I looked up to see a young man about twenty. It was my mate Nicholas Stanton striding towards us, a young woman on each arm, of course. Each girl, identical in looks and dressed in matching white lace, carried a white parasol in the hand that wasn't attached to Nick. Their white frills twirled over the girls'
shoulders almost in unison, framing Nick in his dark suit. Appropriate, that. As it was this darkness that would no doubt soon put a blight upon their virginal purity. They wouldn't be wearing white for long.
"Nick, ol' chap. Enjoying this fine day, I see."
"Always, Arthur. Always." He turned to each girl on his arm, as he said, "Ladies, may I present Lord Arthur York."
"Pleasure," they said at the same time.
"This is Miss Constance Fitzpatrick," he said indicating the one on his right. She curtsied quickly. "And Miss Celeste Fitzpatrick," he said indicating the one on his left, who curtsied as well. They were pretty girls, but I must emphasize that they were indeed girls. Barely sixteen, I would gather. They each had a ringlets of strawberry hair coming out from under their lace bonnets and a sweetness about them that was hard to describe.
"Ladies, I trust you know Lord Stanton," I said to my, more mature, companions.
"Quite well," Lady Bainbridge said with a smile. She sat up a little straighter and arched her back, emphasizing her breasts. She was not one to be shown up by younger women.
Nick smiled wide, letting the twinkle settle in his sky blue eyes. "Lady Bainbridge," he said.
"What a pleasure to see you again."
"Lord Stanton," Lady Bainbridge said, "This is Lady Hamilton."
"How do you do," Lady Hamilton said quietly.
"Quite well, now that I've beheld your beauty," Nick said with a slight bow. He pulled out of Constance's grasp just long enough to kiss Lady Hamilton's hand.
Lady Hamilton blushed and hid behind her fan.
"And of course you know Lady Pearson," Lady Bainbridge continued.
"Of course, Lord Stanton," Lady Pearson said quickly, not allowing Nick to answer first.
"What a pleasant surprise. Won't you join us?" Her voice was flat, as if the invitation was just for social etiquette rather than sincerity.
"Oh how I would love to, dear lady, but I've got business to attend to," he said, subtly indicating the young ladies on his arms. Looking back to me, he said, "Arthur. Tea? Tomorrow?"
"Indeed."
"Lovely. At yours, I believe. Five o'clock?"
"Five it is."
"Nicky," Constance said with a pout perfected by the spoiled. "I want to go feed the ducks.
You said we could."
"Yes, Nicky," Celeste added, "let's."
"Of course my dears. Did you bring your crusts of bread?" he asked in almost a sing-song way, as if talking to someone much younger than she.
The ladies both nodded, synchronized, and each held up a small satin pouch.
"Splendid. Ladies," he said bowing to my companions. "Pleasure, as always."
He turned back toward The Serpentine and began telling a story to his escorts. As he walked away, I heard him begin, "Would you like to hear about my safari in Africa last year, ladies?"
They giggled their excited affirmation. "Well, it was just me and my mate in the wilds an African savannah when we came upon a sleeping lion!" No doubt he would draw out the suspense to increase the impact of the story.
"Interesting chap," I said, turning my attention back to the ladies, who were still watching Nick walk away. He did have a way with the ladies, but then, so did I.
"Yes. Quite," Lady Bainbridge said, turning back to me with a smile.
Without warning, it started to rain, cutting any further conversation short. With a squeal from the ladies, they all jumped up grabbing their parasols, fumbled them open, and then huddled beneath them, closer to the trunk of the great oak behind us.
I just laughed, taking off my hat and letting the cool water hit my face. No chance of sun now. The young ladies with Nick were trying to pull away from him to seek cover themselves, but he wouldn't let them go until they were all three drenched, laughing, and splashing in the quickly forming puddles.
Carriages were swiftly coming up and stopping at various points along the shores of The Serpentine. All the people who had been enjoying their day were now gathered in tight clusters beneath the trees, trying to keep their fine clothes dry. As their rides approached, they began to trot over in small groups to their respective carriages. Even Nick and his lady friends stepped into his carriage. He would no doubt have them out of their wet clothes within the hour. Lady Bainbridge's brougham stopped near us, and she scurried towards it after a quick goodbye. The two ladies followed; Lady Bainbridge turned back to me just before she stepped into the carriage and winked.
Too soon to feed again on such a high profile woman, but I could certainly amuse myself in the mean time.
Tonight, no doubt, would be most amusing.
"That Emily is ripe," I said to Cecil as he tied my white bow tie. As I mentioned, the current fashion for men of my stature was modest for the most part, but I did look smart in my white tie and black tail coat. Thankful for the trend of black, white, and grey, I certainly did not miss the dandy days of yesteryear.
"Indeed, m'lord," Cecil replied, brushing off my silk facings.
"Although Hazel would certainly be more of a challenge. She would require a long seduction. Then again, extending the seduction of Emily would be a challenge in and of itself.
She was practically begging for it in the park."
"How interesting, m'lord," Cecil replied dryly. He didn't get involved in my affairs unless some cover-up proved necessary. How could he? There were far too many of which to keep track. Of course I didn't kill most of them. Just fed from them and altered their memory. Very little cover-up was needed.
"I haven't done a long seduction in quite a while."
"They are infinitely more risky, m'lord."
"Therein lays the fun, Cecil!"
"Of course, m'lord," Cecil said, brushing off my shoulders.
Cecil stepped back allowing me to regard myself in the mirror. Vampires did have a reflection after all, but it was faint, almost like one was fading away. I had noticed that I got more transparent in the looking glass as the centuries progressed. Or perhaps it was just in my memory that I used to be clearer than my current form. Still, it was ever so convenient to have some reflection with the popularity of mirrors everywhere. One couldn't be a part of society and completely avoid mirrors! People did like to look at themselves in all their finery. A faint reflection could be explained by a trick of the light, if necessary, but it usually wasn't. After all, everyone was too busy looking at themselves. The vanity of others was a great advantage to one steering attention away from oneself.
"Yes," I said to Cecil, indicating my approval. I looked quite smart, indeed. Black tails with a black on black pinstriped waistcoat made from the finest Chinese silk, as all my waistcoats were.
Its notched lapels peeked out from under my tail coat, creating striking lines down the front. The tails were fastened together with a single black silk-covered button, allowing the bottom of the waistcoat to show through. It also gave me easy access to my silver pocket watch, which was kept in one of the small waistcoat's pockets and secured with a silver chain. Silver complemented black so much better than gold. Even the tail coat had ornate silver buttons, three on each side, that followed the lines of the silk facings. Although I was rather shorter than I appeared, risers in my shoes gave the illusion of more height. I don't miss the heels of the last century either, however. They had made me taller, but they made everyone else taller as well.
Now, I have had Italy's finest cobbler make my shoes. They gave the appearance of normal shoes, but along with an extra-long trouser leg, hid the fact that they made me stand a few inches taller. I only had to be careful when I sat down, but I didn't sit much at parties, and that was all that mattered. Fortunately, women were mostly smaller than I, so they didn't seem to care much, especially the older ones. The ones whose beauty was said to have started fading. For me, they were still young and succulent. Worked well for all concerned.
"I'm off then, Cecil. Is the carriage ready?" I asked, trotting down the stairs to the main floor.
Cecil followed closely behind.
"I have sent word to Thomas."
"Excellent. Wish me luck."
"Oh, m'lord. You don't need luck," he replied, then took my overcoat off the rack near the front door.
"That's true," I said as Cecil helped me into my coat. I popped on my finest top hat, complete with a black sash tied at the back. A nice pair of black leather gloves and a black scarf completed the outfit. I wore gloves whenever possible, as it masked the deathly coldness of my hands.
Outside, Thomas was waiting patiently on the stoop as Cecil opened the door for me. Thomas was a good man as well. It wasn't easy finding such quality help, and I had certainly been through problems with staff in the past. Dozens of men over the past century alone. When I found the right man for the job, I paid him very well for his loyalty and discretion, assuring they'd be with me for life. Their life, anyway. It was quite inconvenient that they were mortal, having to start the search all over again. Thomas was no exception to such excellence. In fact, he had significantly raised my expectations for his eventual successor. He was loyal from the beginning, even during the trial period in which I fed from them and wiped their memories to test their resilience. Yes, Thomas had never been a problem. He was taller than both me and Cecil.
Lanky, too. Long nose. Long face. Long arms and legs. I believe he was especially grateful I had his clothes tailored specifically for him, as any regular sizes would have had his arms and legs sticking out the ends. Good ol' gangly Thom. Over the years Cecil had become more relaxed with me. Sometimes I need to remind him his place, but I've never had that problem with Thomas. Polite and proper to the last.
"Shall we, Thomas?"
"Of course, m'lord." Thomas stepped to the curb quickly and opened the brougham door for me. I climbed in, sitting nearer the window now that there was no fear of sunlight. The sky had cleared after the afternoon rain, and one could now see the stars and the moon. It would be a lovely evening on the dirigible. One didn't get many firsts anymore, after having lived for so long, but a ride on an airship would certainly be one. I found myself uncommonly excited at the prospect. Well, that and the excitement of a new seduction project. Yes. Emily Bainbridge would do just fine, although Hazel Hamilton would be more of a challenge, and I did so want to make her blush. Perhaps I could manage both at once, without knowledge of the other of course. An additional challenge since they were such close friends. Oh yes. I was indeed excited about the possibilities of the evening.
Thomas pulled the carriage up behind a line of other carriages. The airship was in the large clearing to the north of The Serpentine. It was indeed massive and wondrous. I had never seen anything even remotely like it. I had, after all, seen it in the air, but at such a distance, one doesn't gain the proper perspective. The sheer size of it was astounding. It was nearly as long as Buckingham Palace and half as high: a grand site sitting in the middle of Hyde Park.
I could feel the excitement in the air. Even for those who had been on an airship before, it was still quite the experience. I stepped out of my carriage and turned to Thomas, who sat with his mouth gaping open in disbelief as he beheld the colossal ship.
"Jealous?" I said up to him still perched on the coachman's seat. His feet propped upon the footboard made his gangling legs bend at a comical angle. His knees seemed as high as his own shoulders.
"Not at all, m'lord. It's unnatural, it is. To go up in that thing? Unnatural." He let his pointy chin relax again in astonishment. No matter how 'unnatural' he thought it was, he couldn't take his eyes off of the immense thing.
"Quite true, Thomas. However, I do know something about the unnatural."
"Of course, m'lord," Thomas replied, remembering himself.
"Return for me by 10 o'clock. We should be landing around then."
"Very good, m'lord."
I turned toward the great vessel and started towards it. I hadn't felt this excited since my Spring-Heeled Jack days. It was what they called me back then. I had taken delight, for a few years, showing my true form and frightening villagers in Sheffield, Liverpool, and even parts of Scotland. Some I'd kill, but some I'd leave alive to tell the tale. When a decree came down to shoot Spring-Heeled Jack on site, I had figured it was time for a change. I had started to lay low in 1872, revising my routine, as I did every few decades just to avoid death by boredom. In fact, last night's act of luscious debauchery was the most conspicuous I'd been since then. Loved to see that the papers reported 'vampire' instead of some other silly explanation like a phantom monster who could leap onto high buildings and over fences, although I can. I just had gotten too excited last night, as it was quite obvious from the tooth marks I left. What other conclusion but
'vampire' could they make?
Yes. I definitely had to be more careful for awhile. After all, it was quite the hassle to move to another country, and I quite like this one. Perhaps I should turn to prostitutes and such for a bit. Still, the long seduction that I begin tonight will be well worth another high-profile kill. Will it be Emily or Hazel? Ah, the unknown. I should just let nature take its course and see what opportunity best presented itself.
"Good evening, sir," a man dressed in uniform said as I approached the ramp. He had gold braids hanging from each shoulder and three golden buttons lining each cuff. He wore a baldric stretched across the front of his double-breasted brown uniform from one shoulder to the other hip. It contained all sorts of tools kept in special-made loops and pouches for easy access. Ten golden buttons down each seam fastened the smart uniform beneath his black leather baldric. He had to be part of the ship's crew.
The area all around the ship was roped off and constables were stationed every ten yards or so to keep ruffians out.
"Yes. It is a good evening, good sir. Permission to come aboard," I replied, smiling. After all, I had been on a ship or two in my time, even if they had been the kind that floated rather than flew.
"Of course, sir, but I must see your invitation."
"By all means," I said, reaching into my inner pocket and producing the gold leaf, embossed invitation.
"Thank you, sir. Once on board, please make yourself at home. There are complimentary drinks and hors d'oeuvres on the second deck and the views from the top deck are quite breathtaking."
I tipped my hat to him and proceeded up the long ramp to the ship. The ship itself was golden in color, which just served to increase its majesty. Suspended above it with countless ropes was a huge balloon that seemed twice the size of the vessel. It extended slightly past the bow and stern and over either side, and it was at least three times as high as the ship to which it was tied. The ramp led up onto the hull's lowest deck, near the front of the ship. It was made mostly of wood painted gold with brass accents around the port holes and edges. Aft of the ramp on the outside of the ship, a great propeller powered by a steam engine hung suspended from a massive wooden arm. I remembered seeing this on both sides of the ship from afar when it was airborne, along with an additional three propellers in the very back of the ship. The huge propeller in the center and two smaller ones on either side had to be how the ship was steered in the air. They all looked much more impressive and quite colossal once one got closer.
It boggled the mind!
As I stepped into the main part of the ship, my eyes were further amazed. Directly in front of me was a grand staircase, similar to that which I ascended last evening with my tasty treat. The interior was made with the finest materials and adornments. It was a wonder they allowed commoners on this boat. They must have had a dedicated crew to keep a watchful eye during those daytime tours. The room in which this staircase began was rather small, considering, and all the guests were being ushered upstairs. I ascended the steps, pleasantly reminiscent of last night, onto the next deck. This was, again, only the front half of the ship. The entire aft of the ship had to be the mechanics of the thing. This middle deck was a large ballroom. A string quartet played in the corner and couples were already swirling across the floor to the music. A buffet table full of the finest meats, cheeses, fruits, and breads lined the far wall. Formally dressed waiters wandered the room offering goodies to the wallflowers and refilling their wine glasses.
After ascending a second, less ornate staircase, I reached the uppermost deck, open to the night. The stars and moon were all obscured by the massive balloon overhead, but the view of the park from this height was already amazing. This deck was quite roomier, set aside for the use of guests, although a good third of the aft portion was reserved for what I could only assume to be the control room. More waiters dressed in black dinner jackets wove between the astonished guests offering snacks and drink.
The airship captain stood on the bow with his hands on his hips, looking the part perfectly.
His long scarf blew in the wind and his goggles were set just above his eyebrows. Around the edge of one lens, an arm protruded about an inch with three distinct separate glass discs attached at the end of additional arms. Each could rotate over the lens individually or together. It was brilliant. It acted as if one had a telescope and magnifying glass all in one device and all hands-free.
"Cap'n!" I heard a small voice from behind me call. "Cap'n! Cap'n!"
The impressive man turned around. His nose was significant, yet proportionate on his strong face. He wore friendly mutton chops down the sides that quite suited him.
"Cap'n!"
"Yes, boy. What is it?" The captain replied.
"Getting a strange reading on the pressure valve, sir."
"Which one?"
"Behind the intake cylinder."
"That one again? Where's Williams? He's the Chief Engineer after all."
"Um," the boy said with a sideways glance at me.
"Nevermind, I'll have a look at it presently, lad. Call the all aboard. We'll be lifting off presently."
"Aye, aye, Cap'n," the lad said with a quick salute.
"Get some coffee in Williams," the captain added as he strode past me. He moved with assurance and confidence. Ever commanding, which was appropriate for the captain of a ship.
The boy trotted behind him, his gait revealing just the opposite.
"Aye, aye" I heard the boy reply just as they approached the control room.
"Arthur!" I heard to my left. I turned to see Hazel, Eliza, and Emily along with another woman whose back was turned to me, as she was looking over the side of the ship. She was exquisitely dressed in a deep burgundy jacket accented with golden stripes. Its tails split over a black skirt with a nice fluffy bustle. A tiny top hat was perched on the side of her jet black hair.
The other ladies were dressed in pastels, my least favorite. I preferred dark colors. Emily was in pale yellow, not ever attractive, but ultimately better than that bright lemon ensemble she had worn this afternoon. Eliza was in pink and Hazel wore a sky blue. Emily was waving her pale yellow handkerchief wildly at me, demanding that I gave her my full attention.
"Ladies," I said bowing.
"Oh, Arthur! Isn't it amazing?" Emily exclaimed, indicating the entire ship with a grand gesture, demonstrating that she was as impressive as the dirigible.
"It is indeed."
The woman who had been looking over the side turned around, and I nearly fell over. It was Catherine. Everything was the same! Only instead of red hair, it was a jet black, coiffed in perfect curls. Every single detail of her face was Catherine. The small, gentle eyes. The round nose. The quaint but full lips that formed a perfect tiny "o," barely larger than the head of a pin, in the exact center when held together. The shape of her jaw. The curve of her cheek. The alabaster skin with just the slightest hint of olive. It was my Catherine returned to me.
"Allow me to introduce my niece, Arthur," Lady Bainbridge said, interrupting my thoughts.
"This is Avalon. Avalon, may I present Lord York."
I must've taken too long to answer, just staring at Avalon in a daze for a few moments, as the other two ladies were looking crossly at me. I gathered my wits quickly.
"Forgive me, dear lady," I said as I took Avalon's proffered hand and kissed it. "Forgive my reaction, but one does not often see beauty such as yours."
Avalon curtsied properly as I kissed her hand, but the expression on her face was not one of a flattered, or even an embarrassed, woman. She looked positively at peace, almost bored, as if she was used to such flattery and compliment, but she wasn't, judging from the way Lady Bainbridge had spoken about her. I'd bet she just didn't care about such things.
"Avalon? Beautiful? Well, my dear," Lady Bainbridge said to her niece, snapping open her fan with annoyance, "I do believe this is a first. You must thank my maid upon our return. She did work a miracle tonight."
"Pleasure to meet you, Lord York," Avalon said, ignoring her aunt's quip. She withdrew her black lace-gloved hand out of mine with polite determination, for in my awe, I had held on to it far longer than politeness allowed.
"Please, call me Arthur," I said, bowing. I was treating this woman like a queen, for she was a queen to me. My queen.
"Yes. Please! Call him Arthur. We all do," Emily Bainbridge said, fanning herself wildly.
"Dear Emily," I said, turning my attention to her, for she was obviously slighted, "You are looking especially lovely yourself this evening. I, of course, was prepared for your loveliness, as I had the pleasure of making your acquaintance earlier this day."
This seemed to pacify her for the moment, as she closed her fan before playfully batting me on the shoulder with it, and smiled sweetly at me.
"I will be the envy of tonight's gala! I'm surrounded by the loveliest ladies in all of London,"
I announced a little loudly, arms spread wide.
Hazel Hamilton giggled at this. "Oh, sir. How you flatter." She blushed.
"It is not flattery, dear lady. I speak only truth," I said, tilting my head and nodding with the pretense of respect.
"Come dear," Lady Pearson finally spoke, "we must find our husbands. Arthur, as always, it's been a pleasure."
"Dear Eliza, the pleasure is always mine," I replied bowing deeper to her.
Lady Pearson and Lady Hamilton turned to leave, which left me alone with Emily Bainbridge and her stunning niece Avalon.
"Isn't this simply amazing, Arthur?" Lady Bainbridge asked as she slipped her arm inside mine. She would be no challenge at all to seduce. Rather, the challenge would be to keep her at bay without offending her. Such thoughts entered my mind out of habit, as my interest in Emily or Hazel had abandoned ship the moment I saw Avalon. My attention turned fully to her. My Catherine.
"It is quite, wouldn't you say so Miss Avalon?"
"Quite." Avalon's blatant disregard of polite conversation or high society in any form was evident. The dirigible alone held her interest.
I continued, "I had only seen these contraptions from afar, which were impressive enough, but I am quite without words to describe this experience. And we haven't even lifted off the ground yet!"
Emily Bainbridge was certainly not without words, for she chimed right in, tightening her grip on my arm. "I was entirely taken in by the luxury of the thing. That ballroom on the lower deck was simply magnificent; as fine as any I've had the pleasure of dancing in. Oh, Arthur, you must save a dance for me." She tugged on my arm playfully, trying to pry my attention away from the goddess before me.
"But of course, Lady Bainbridge," I replied, not taking my eyes off Avalon. I hoped by using her formal title, she'd take the hint and back off a little. She did not. Instead she squeezed my arm against her breast and laid her head on my shoulder momentarily before continuing:
"How do they ever get such a ship in the air? Did you know that this is the finest airship in London? I'm quite surprised they allow commoners on it at all!"
"Many commoners, as you call them, are fine people," Avalon interjected at last. "They are hardworking, decent people, Aunt. You would do well to remember that."
This one had spunk.
"Indeed," I replied. I felt Emily's grip on my arm tighten, so I changed the subject. "Miss Avalon, do tell me about your unusual name. I don't think I've ever met someone named Avalon."
Avalon didn't turn away from looking out over the side of the ship, far in the distance. Her hands were clasped properly in front, grasping a small, gold reticule. She behaved as I've often felt, just barely able to stomach such pointless small talk. She wasn't here to socialize or flirt or boast about riches. She was different. She was here for the dirigible. She was here for the experience. She cared more about the brass cogs that powered this ship than of all the gold of the crown.
"Well, sir, isn't it obvious? My father was obsessed with the Arthurian Legend. No, actually, obsessed would be an understatement. Nevertheless, it's as simple as that. It is unusual, but it's certainly better than being called Morgana or Guinevere!"
What a delightful lady!
"We have something in common, dear lady."
She finally turned to face me, slightly intrigued.
"My father, too, was obsessed, as you say, with the Arthurian Legend. It is why he called me Arthur." I didn't mention that his intention had been for me to be Arthur II of England. That I alone had been meant to bring the dream of Avalon back to Britain. And here instead, Avalon came to me.
For the first time in as long as I could remember, I wanted to forget the past forever. Forget about my father. Forget about the centuries of decadence. Forget about the dream of Arthur's Avalon and focus on the reality of my new-found Avalon. Forget all the ways of seduction I had learned, and just be with this woman. Just listen to her talk. Get lost in her thoughts. Something about this woman captivated me, and I couldn't explain it. Some deep connection. Something more than lust, although that, too, was present. It was a feeling that I had felt before, centuries ago.
"Yes, Arthur. That, too, is obvious and not all that uncommon. Many people enjoy the tales of Arthur and his knights."
She wasn't going to give me an inch.
A horrible grinding sound filled the air, causing all the attendees to look towards the control room at once. Lady Bainbridge tightened her grasp on my arm, and I didn't think it could get any tighter. If I had circulation, she would have cut it off.
To the right of the control room, situated at the far end of the deck behind some velvet cords making it clear that passengers were to keep out, three huge toothed metal wheels were turning.
The teeth of each fitting perfectly with the next. The largest gear, twice the height of Thomas, disappeared into the wooden floor, causing me to believe there were many more such gears and machinery beneath the deck. Steam escaped from below and wafted up between the turning cogs, hiding them from view momentarily. The grinding subsided as the gears got up to speed, and now a more gentle whirring sound took its place.
"Thank goodness," Lady Bainbridge sighed with a dramatic gesture to her chest, as if checking to see if her heart was still beating. "I thought we would be forced to bear that horrendous sound throughout the gala. How is one to dance with such a racket?"
"Indeed," Avalon said in a tone that mirrored my hidden reaction to Emily's inane comment, then turned back towards the edge of the deck. As she did, I caught a glimpse of a small mechanism affixed to her ear. It was mostly covered by her delicate, sable curls, but the wind caught her hair just enough for me to see it momentarily. It had similar gears as the ship but was very small, as the entire tiny thing sat on top of her ear, held there by a singular hinged arm that hooked over the top ridge. I couldn't imagine what it was. I certainly must begin paying closer attention to this modern technology, for things are changing far too quickly these days.
"I think we shall be lifting off soon," I said with most of my attention towards Avalon's unique beauty. "Wouldn't you say Lady Bainbridge?" She didn't correct my formality but rather loosened her grip on my arm.
"And it is about time, too," Emily said coldly. "If you would please excuse me Lord York, Avalon. I do think I see Lord Grimshaw over there, and my husband will be quite cross with me when I return home if I were not to socialize with his favorite investor."
"Of course, Lady Bainbridge. As always, it's been a pleasure," I said, kissing her hand.
"Quite." She didn't curtsy. Instead, she whipped her skirts around and strode scornfully away.
I imagined Emily was the kind of woman that took cruelty much easier than disregard. Still, not irreparable damage, I'd surmise.
"Do save me that dance," I said to her, amused, as she walked away. She didn't turn back.
Now I was alone with Avalon, which was exactly where I wanted to be. We stood for several moments in silence. She obviously didn't have the same need as her Aunt to fill every moment with prattle. A good sign. I looked over the side with her, taking in the entire experience of standing next to the woman who was so much like my Catherine, and at the same time so little like her.
All the ropes that were holding the ship steady and near the ground were tied off to large stakes hammered into the ground. More like logs, really. By each of the stakes stood men with hatchets, awaiting orders. These men were not dressed in the fancy double-breasted, gold-buttoned brown coat uniform of the ticket taker, however. These men were working class, dressed in dungarees and boots. Well disciplined, though. For each man did not budge, and they all stood in the exact same stance. Feet shoulder width apart. Hatchet held across the torso at the exact angle as the rest. They stood perfectly still, not even their bushy mustaches twitched.
"May I have your attention, please," a strong voice said from the direction of the control room. It was the captain yelling through a speaking-trumpet. His goggles were now over his eyes. "My name is Captain McAdams, and we will be lifting off shortly. I do need five volunteers to help us with lift off. Five men, preferably."
He didn't wait for volunteers. He chose five men around the edges of the ship by pointing at each, including me.
"You, you, you, you, and you," Captain McAdams said. "You five, notice where you are standing over the side of the ship are hanging several large bags of sand. On my mark, you will grasp the rope securing them, and give it a strong pull. This will release the bags. ON MY
MARK," he shouted at a young man who had already started to tug. "It's very important that this is done together or the ship could become compromised. Ready?"
I grasped the rope, careful not to pull it yet, and turned my attention back to the captain.
Avalon looked on with great interest. I was suddenly very glad the captain chose me.
The captain looked toward the back of the ship, behind the cogs, where some of his crew were doing the same thing as we were. Once satisfied everyone was in place and ready to work together, he continued.
"Ready. On three. One. Two. Three," Captain McAdams said.
I tugged with what I made look like all my strength, but it really took no effort whatsoever on my part. The knot slipped, and Avalon and I watched the sand bags fall stories to the ground with a thud. Just then, the several men with hatchets raised them into the air, moving in rehearsed unison. With the command of "NOW" from someone below, they all brought down the hatchets together, severing the rope in one stroke. With a jolt, that nearly toppled Avalon into my arms, we were lifting off.
It was the singular greatest sensation of my long existence, no doubt amplified by the beauty beside me. Within moments, we were soaring above the trees, and I could see the Houses of Parliament in the distance. What a sight! The clock tower looked like a matchstick at this distance, and the Thames but a silver snake in the moonlight. Amazing.
The chattering of all the guests soon drowned out the sound of the steam engine, and the party officially started. I turned to Avalon, and her eyes were wide with amazement. Still, she cared nothing about the gala. Her only interest was this ship.
"First time on an airship?" I said, finally breaking our silence.
"It is," she answered without looking away from the magnificent view of London below.
"You?"
"Yes. This is definitely a first," and I wasn't just talking about the airship. I drank in every curve of her face. Every curl of her hair. I etched this lady into my memory. Every delightful detail of her.
"The size of those propellers," she said, pointing to the large one off the starboard side, leaning over the side slightly in her excitement. "Each blade is bigger than a man."
"There is one off the port side as well."
"Do you know your way around ships, Lord York?"
"Arthur, please." I must get her to use my familiar name. That is the first step. "I've been on a ship or two in my time. You?"
"I once sailed to France for holiday, but nothing this large. Not nearly this large." Her eyes, still wide and full of wonder, took in everything around us, just as I took in her.
Avalon put a gloved hand up to the ear on which I had seen the strange earpiece and tilted her head slightly. After which she said, "Would you excuse me, Arthur. I mustn't seem rude to the other passengers. My Aunt gave me strict instructions to mingle. It was a pleasure to meet you."
Yes. The familiar. She's dropped her guard.
"The pleasure was all mine," I replied, kissing the hand that was so recently at her ear. "Save me a dance?"
"Oh, Lord York, I do not normally dance."
Back to the formal.
"Well, then. Perhaps we shall talk more later this evening?" I wasn't letting go of her hand.
"Perhaps," she replied, then taking her hand resolutely out of mine, turned and walked away.
I stood watching her bustle sway as she headed towards her aunt and Lord Grimshaw, but she didn't go to them, rather she stood very near another young man who was not in the least bit interested in hiding his affectionate overtures to another woman. It was as if she was trying to listen in on their conversation.
A blow came from behind and nearly knocked me off my feet.
"Arthur, my boy!"
I turned to see Lord Nicolas Stanton finely dressed and sporting a wide grin.
"On the prowl, I see," he said with laughter in his voice.
"Always," I replied shaking his proffered hand, "You?"
"You know it, dear chap. I've already got a few strung along tonight, and we've just taken off. What is it about technology that gets women so wet?"
I looked back across the ship to see that Avalon had now moved on to another couple. She stood just far enough away so as not to appear she was eavesdropping, which, to me, she obviously was. My curiosity was piqued.
"Her?" Nicholas said in an astonished tone, snapping my attention back to him. Had I enough blood in my system, I would have blushed.
"She intrigues me," I said.
"Oh Arthur. One day, you must explain to me your taste in women." Nick's sexual appetite was at least as ravenous as mine, but he preferred his women young. Mere girls, really. He liked to get them before they were eighteen, if possible, as they started to marry off around then. He liked them virginal and pure.
"Experience, my friend. Experience."
"Theirs or yours?" he laughed. A waiter came by with a tray of champagne. We each took a glass.
"To the girls," Nick toasted.
"The girls," I replied. We clinked glasses and drank deep.
"Tell me about your evening so far, Nicholas. You say you have a few "strung along," as you put it?"
"Indeed, Arthur," he said, his blue eyes twinkling. He took another sip of champagne and the moonlight caught the edge of his sharp jaw just as a gust of wind tussled his blonde hair, giving him more of that reckless charm he was so well known for. I could see why the girls fell for his line. He was strikingly handsome, much more so than I. Not that I was unattractive, quite the contrary, but Nick's looks surpassed all that I had ever seen. He was perfection in the eyes of women, and although he was gaining a reputation, girls didn't seem to learn. They each believed they would be the one to land this man, titles, money, looks, and all. They were fools.
"Nancy Howard is one. She's my top priority. Oh, Arthur. She is indeed ripe."
"Nancy Howard? Daughter to the Earl of Suffolk?"
"The very same."
"Your boldness grows with your age, dear friend."
"One must remain challenged in one's work, Arthur. Don't you find?"
"Indeed I do," I said, glancing back over at Avalon who was now eavesdropping on another couple. Each time she would leave one couple, she would again touch her earpiece with her right hand, angling her mouth down into the sleeve. Then she would speak, although no one was around. It looked as though she would speak directly into her bell sleeve. Quite strange. I was thoroughly intrigued by this woman.
"I saw you talking with Lady Pearson again this evening," Nicholas continued. He had that devilish look in his eye, the one that was so often there.
"Indeed. She was quite cold toward you this afternoon, Nicholas. Story there?"
"There's always a story, Arthur. Hers is but a trite one, though. Never forgave me for
'ruining' her daughter, as she puts it. Lass had to marry beneath her station for someone to take her. Fireball, that one. Good times."
Yes. That is Nick's specialty.
"No wonder she sounded cross. You do make your mark, don't you?"
"Quite," he said.
"Arthur, old chap," he said, downing the last bit of champagne and setting the empty glass on the side of the ship, "I'm afraid I must take my leave of you. After all, there is work to be done."
He flashed his brilliant smile before continuing. "Tea. Tomorrow."
"Indeed. See you then, ol' boy."
I watched him head back down the stairs, no doubt to literally sweep Miss Nancy Howard off her feet on the dance floor. Poor girl. Didn't have a chance.
Avalon passed right by me on her way to another group, and she didn't even look at me. She was talking into her sleeve and holding her ear.
"Miss Bainbridge," I said, trying to get her attention.
She stopped and turned, quickly pulling her arm away from her lips. She stood properly before me with both hands clasped together in front.
"Yes, Lord York." She sounded almost cross herself.
"Care to dance?" I blurted out, then tried to recover, "The music from below is inspiring me to do so." How awkward of me. This woman has me rather flustered.
"Then I suggest you go below and find a willing partner. As I mentioned before, Lord York, I rarely dance." She turned without another word and walked away.
I did not go after her, but rather watched her continue to move about the ship, from couple to couple, group to group, throughout the evening while making very tedious small talk with different groups myself. After a few glasses of champagne and some very fine hors d'oeuvres, the ship once again began to descend towards Hyde Park. The same men who had cut the ropes were now jumping up to catch them again as the ship neared the ground. I positioned myself near enough to Avalon that I would be close to her while disembarking. As we all funneled onto the descending ramp, I was right behind her, right up against that sweet bustle. The stirring below began.
"Hello again, Miss Avalon," I said just above a whisper into her ear. Her hair smelled like springtime.
She looked back at me, startled. "Ah. Lord York. Did you enjoy the evening?"
"I certainly did, Miss Avalon. By far the best part was talking with you. May I call on you again?"
This made her laugh a little. A strange reaction. If I was a man of lower esteem, I might have been offended.
"Whatever for?" was her only reply.
"As I said, Miss Avalon. I truly enjoyed talking with you, and I would like to talk with you further." She looked quite cross with me, and I couldn't understand why. Perhaps she thought my intentions were dishonorable, which, of course, they were. Still, I added, "Purely platonic intentions, of course. I see that you have a love of modern technology," I said with a subtle indication to her earpiece. Her hand instinctively went up to cover it. She pulled the perfect black curls down over her ear. She looked flustered for a moment, as if no one was meant to see it.
"I do have a penchant for science, Lord York." Certainly my weakness, modern technology, but I was certainly willing to learn to get closer to this amazing woman. Just had to have something to talk about, at first anyway.
"I know very little about all these new devices and such, Perhaps you can educate me? And, I insist, Miss Avalon. Do call me Arthur."
"That is more familiar than I like, Lord York. Good evening." She turned away from me with finality. I knew the conversation was over. For now. When we had reached the bottom of the ramp, she marched off without another word or glance back at me.
"What an odd and wonderful woman," I said to myself. I watched her (and her bustle) intently until she got into the carriage with Lady Bainbridge and drove away.
I must find a reason to see her again. Perhaps through Lady Bainbridge was the best way.
"I'm in love, Cecil. I'm completely and utterly in love."
Cecil stood there for a moment, looking blankly at me. He held a brass candlestick lantern which barely illuminated the foyer. It was like a brass tube with a hole in the front from which the candlelight shone. This was so it didn't blind the bearer with light from behind but rather shed light out ahead.
He blinked slowly a few times and then said, "But you have no heart, m'lord. It doesn't beat."
He set the candlestick lantern down on the Venetian console table and with the newly free hand lit the oil lamps on the wall. He then took my cup of tea off the tray balanced on his left arm and set it next to my doffed top hat, then raised his cuff.
"One drop or two."
"Two--A heart need not beat in order to love, Cecil dear boy! I only wish that were the case, it would make things much simpler. From what I remember, love is not that much fun."
No. Love was quite a cruel bitch, if memory serves. Love was what kept me tethered to Catherine all these centuries, even after her betrayal and death. But this was new and somehow different. Of course reason told me it wasn't different at all. It was merely new, but reason was not the dominant faculty at the moment. I would love again. I would love anew, if only in temporary bliss. If only for a few moments. I would savor this new love.
"What makes this woman so special? I mean, you've had thousands, m'lord. Hundreds just in the short few years I've known you," Cecil said as he let two perfect drops of crimson blood fall into my tea before wiping the spigot and readjusting his cuff.
I sighed, trying to find the words to describe what my heart knew. They didn't come. How can one explain love? This wasn't base desire or lust. It was love. I settled:
"She looks like Catherine, or at least my memory of my memory of Catherine. That's what first caught my eye, but there's something else. She has an honesty about her, a level of honor, unlike Catherine. And still something else."
I searched for the words, but fell short. Even with all the languages I've learned and all the books I've read, I cannot come up with the words. A poet was needed to describe the feelings of love. For even words like ecstasy and rapture and bliss fell short to this wondrous feeling. I tried to call up the words of Shelley and Byron, but even those words couldn't capture my love for my Avalon.
"She shunned you, m'lord. That's what it is."
Cecil pulled me from my ethereal cloud back down into my foyer of reality. He took my coat and hung it on the rack by the door. I picked up the cup of tea he had set on the Venetian marble console table and took a sip.
"Shunned is a rather harsh word, Cecil. She merely presents a challenge. That's all. You know how I do enjoy a challenge. And, yes, that is intriguing."
"Intriguing, indeed," Cecil replied wryly.
"Don't be tedious, Cecil. You should congratulate me. This was the first time I've felt alive since, well, since I died! No, that's not quite right. It's the first time I've felt alive since Catherine died."
"I'll never understand it, m'lord. Why you hold on to that woman so. She betrayed you. She slept with your brother and lied about your time together. She denied you, much more than three times. She swore before the holy church and God himself."
"That she did, Cecil, but I forgave her for all of that," I said with a wave of my hand. "He cast her aside, and I could only watch from the sidelines. My heart broke again watching her in pain, and I swore off love. After Catherine died banished and shamed like a harlot, I swore off love. I saw that life and especially love was too painful, too disappointing. Plus, I found much greater pleasure in carnal activities than romantic ones. Although, I do enjoy feigning the romance. This Avalon was different. She has stirred something inside me I thought long dead."
"She's a challenge. Nothing more."
I flew at Cecil so quickly he didn't know what had happened until he was pinned by the throat against the wall, feet dangling off the ground. The silver tray he had dropped was still clanging in the background. Shards of my broken teacup were scattered across the marble foyer floor, and my fangs were bared and eyes red. I showed him just how serious I was.
Cecil, of course, was familiar with my tantrums, so he hardly blinked at the show of my power.
Calmly he said through a hoarse whisper, for I was practically shutting off his windpipe, "I see this means quite a lot to you, m'lord. My apologies."
I dropped him and regained my composure, looking completely human once again.
"Now. Help me, Cecil. What can I do to catch this lady?"
"You do have considerable powers of persuasion, m'lord," Cecil said, rubbing his throat.
Point taken.
"True. But I do not wish to frighten the lady or cause her any harm."
"You know perfectly well this is not to which I was referring, m'lord." Cecil had now begun to collect the broken teacup shards.
"Yes. I do have considerable natural charm as well, but she hardly spoke to me tonight." I leaned against the wall and crossed my arms like a petulant child, pouting. "She wouldn't even agree to calling me by my given name. Too informal, she said."
"She sounds like a lady of much integrity, m'lord." He picked up the fallen platter and began wiping up the spilled tea.
"That's what I was saying, Cecil! She's special. She's not one of those haughty harlots who are on their backs with just a kind word and a flattering flirtation. Nor is she a shy maiden, blushing at the thought. No, Cecil, this one is strong. I could feel it in her."
"What about your other powers, m'lord? Surely you could use them to persuade her."
"Of course, Cecil! Thank you for the reminder, good man. It has been so very long since I've needed them to persuade a woman! I almost forgot that I could!" He was, of course, referring to my vampiric powers of mind control. I could subject my will upon the weak minded, especially.
She was not weak-minded, however, but it was worth a shot. If only as a last resort. I would certainly prefer the lady come to me of her own accord.
"The night is still quite young, m'lord. Are you in for the evening?"
"It is young, Cecil! It is positively infantile! I think I will go out for a drink and perhaps a romp as well. Don't wait up." I donned my top hat, slipped on my gloves, grabbed my overcoat, and headed for the door.
"No, m'lord. I never do."
The night was cool, even for London. A soft mist filled the air, and I thought about how lucky we had been earlier in the evening. The clear skies were perfect for the airship flight. I smiled as I remembered how Avalon's skin looked in the moonlight, highlighting her cheekbones and lips.
The curve of her nose. How I could see each eyelash and each wispy hair along her jawline in the bright, clear night. But now it was foggy and misty and grey, just as London usually was.
I didn't call for Thomas to drive me, but rather set out on foot. It was just past midnight, so I had several hours until dawn. I was feeling a little hungry, but it couldn't be a high profile kill.
Perhaps it wouldn't have to be a kill at all. Certainly would be better not to leave another body so soon. I could sharpen those persuasive powers Cecil mentioned on a barmaid somewhere. Maybe a whore. Of course, I wouldn't need them for either. And if I did, it wouldn't take much, for they were customarily of the weakest minds. A whore, I settled upon. Satisfying two desires in one without a fuss. There was time for practice later. Tonight, I had renewed desires in need of satiating.
"Yes," I said to the London night, "a visit to the Chamber of Horrors is just the thing." It was well over an hour walk to Gray's Inn Road, but it would be well worth it. Definitely my type of establishment. I could grab a cab home if I ran too late. I cut through Hyde Park with a skip in my step and turned onto Bayswater. Few people were out this late, so it was a relatively quiet night. The thick fog hung in the air, and my thoughts turned once again to my dear Avalon. She was no doubt snuggled into her bed, sleeping soundly. All alone, and I hardened at the thought.
I will have her. Forever.
I had long since given up on the idea of turning a companion, as I became bored with most women after a few hours. I couldn't imagine spending eternity with someone like Emily Bainbridge, but Avalon inspired me to think on it once again. And only after one meeting. What a remarkable woman. To spend eternity with that perfect face. To kiss the perfect "o" of her soft lips. I had been too young in my new life to have had the presence and foresight to turn Catherine before she married my brother. I've regretted it ever since. I had resigned to live this life in solitude of heart, if not in body. Now I could have both, but how to do it? Certainly I could force myself on her, by the time she knew what had happened, she would be on the road to turning herself. Still that was risky. For her to hate me for all eternity would be quite unbearable.
That would only be a last resort.
The gaslights on the street corners hissed at me as I passed. They gave off a fuzzy, warm glow through the fog and kept me on track, allowing my mind to wonder to Avalon again and again without fear of losing my way. Before long, I turned onto Gray's Inn Road and slipped down the alley. The door to the brothel was well hidden. One had to know where one was headed to find it. It was not a normal brothel, if there was such an animal. This one didn't advertise its presence, as it was of serious ill-repute. If London society knew what went on behind these doors...
I removed the wide black sash from my hat and covered my face with it, allowing only my eyes to show. Best disguise one's appearance at such a place. As I entered, the door hit a bell suspended from the ceiling, announcing my entrance. The parlor looked like any other, albeit shabby and dank. It was decorated in deep burgundy tapestries and upholstery, lined with a faded gold. Few oil lamps, very dimly lit, barely kept it from being downright dark. A lone woman, old and wrinkled, with her features mostly hidden by a scarf, sat in a corner on a once overstuffed chair. Now it looked as tattered and worn and saggy as the woman herself. A retired prostitute, no doubt. She bore the look of one who had lived a very hard life. There weren't many whores who lived to her age. Either from foul play or disease, whores usually died relatively young. But then everyone died relatively young compared to me.
"Good evening, sir," she said in a crackled voice. She didn't question my appearance, as it was understood here that discretion was of the utmost importance.
I nodded to her.
"What be your pleasure tonight sir?"
"Chamber of Horrors," I said in a deepened voice, thick with an assumed Irish accent.
"It is occupied, sir. It is one of our more popular rooms, normally by appointment only."
I took out twenty pound notes and slapped them down on the table next to her. She regarded them for a moment before speaking again, perhaps counting them in her head.
"For this you could buy a virgin, sir. A very young virgin."
"Virginity is not necessary, and I like my women older."
"Are you sure, sir? We have a newly acquired young virgin, fresh and frightened."
"Quite sure. Give me one of your older ones. At least thirty, and I want that room." I put down another few pound notes to ensure my request. Money, after all, meant nothing to me.
"Of course, sir. Give me a moment, and I'll see what I can do."
The old woman hobbled out of the room through the only other door, probably to construct some lie to the current patron, inspiring him to change rooms. I waited, looking at my dank surroundings. Wondering how many of London's elite had enjoyed the dark pleasures of this place. A few minutes later she reappeared.
"This way," she said to me, and I followed. She led me down a dark hall past many doors from which screams, not the pleasurable kind, could be heard mixed with the moans and grunts of ecstasy. A man, fat, rather old and saggy himself, and naked except for a covering on his face, came out of the last room on the left. A young girl, no older than fourteen, cowered in the corner, naked as well. Her face was stained with dirt cut through with tears. Her expression betrayed the knowledge of countless horrors, and at such a young age. Criminal, really.
"Out, I said, out!" the old woman cried to the cowering prostitute, who stood up, knees shaking, and ran out of the room. The man with the covered face grabbed her and threw her into the open room across the hall. I could plainly see that roughing her up excited him. I wondered who among us present was the true monster. He slammed the door and she screamed again.
"Right in here, sir. Someone will be with you momentarily."
"Thank you," I replied. The old woman closed the door behind her, and I looked around the room. It had been awhile since I had been here, but it was good to be back. The implements of torture adorning the walls and the rings hanging from the ceiling started the blood flowing southward. In the center of the room was a padded table that resembled a rack, that medieval torture device, as it had restraints at either end for the hands and feet and a leather strap across the middle as well. One could utilize the full length of the table or drop one or both of the leaves to keep the wench, at least partially, on her feet. This would be a great night.
I heard the door open behind me, and the woman standing there was definitely at least thirty.
Perhaps even forty, just as I liked them. Prostitutes were a little worse for wear than the elite by this age, however. This one was missing several teeth. The ones she did have were nearly black.
No worries, it's not her mouth I was interested in anyway. At least not this time. Although I certainly had the means for a higher-class whore, and sometimes I certainly indulged in that, variety and all, I found this kind to be more willing for my particular type of debauchery. And it was important that they were quite willing to participate. After all, they all felt more or less the same. It was likely this one hadn't had a customer for quite some time, as the current licentious trend among the well-to-do are very young girls, preferably virgins, often stolen right from their homes. I found it all to be quite distasteful.
"What's yer pleazha, gov'," she said in a thick cockney, flashing her mostly toothless smile.
She opened her tattered robe, and I was pleased to see that her body was still quite nice, not at all as rough as her face. "I'll do whatevah you like, m'lord."
"Drop the robe," I said.
She did so without hesitation and smiled.
I took the silk scarf off from around my neck and gagged her with it. She didn't jump or even seem surprised. This was my kind of girl. After all, screams get old after a while. I lost that desire near the end of my first century. Consensual was always more fun, at least until the end, and that only rarely. Like the other night.
I hardened at the thought of that. Her skin had been so smooth and easy to pierce. Ah, the aristocracy.
"Anything?" I asked her, full well knowing the answer.
She nodded, smiling around the scarf stuffed into her mouth. At least I couldn't see the toothless smile anymore. A definite improvement.
"Tonight, you're Avalon," I said to her, leading her to the padded table. I dropped both end leaves and strapped her ankles in one side and then, having her lie across the top and down the other side, strapped her arms in as well. She watched me as I walked around her. Perfectly compliant.
"Now, Avalon," I said to the prostitute as I took a knife off the table of toys situated next to the padded table. It was filled with knives, pliers, saws, and other torture devices, some rather rusty. Fear flashed in her eyes. "I'm showing you this now so you will not be afraid. I won't be using this or any other of these crude instruments." I tossed the knife back onto the table with the rest. "I will, however, be using this." I produced a silver ornament from my pocket and slid it over my right forefinger. It covered the entire digit, jointed in all the right places, as if it were silver armor. The pointed tip extended another two inches from my finger tip and was razor sharp. "I won't cut deep. I just enjoy some blood with my fucking. All right?"
She nodded, relaxing a little. Judging from the scars on her back and legs, she wasn't new to a bit of rough play. Judging from the ol' chap across the hall, I was likely far from the most sadistic client she has had in her tenure.
I went over to her and whispered in her ear, using my special power of persuasion, "Do you trust me?"
She nodded again, and her eyes began to close. I wasn't rusty at all.
Careful to keep the armored finger raised off her skin for the moment, I ran my hands up and down her back. She moaned through her gag.
"You will enjoy this immensely," I breathed into her ear, bending over her and pressing my body fully against her entire frame, grinding my erection into her backside. She moaned again.
I stood up and pulled the sash down off my face, for she could not see behind her, so there was no fear of being recognized or later identified. I dropped my trousers to my knees, as I wouldn't be moving from this position any time soon, and set the finger blade against her back.
She gasped and then giggled as the pointy tip tickled the skin on her back. I traced the blade down her back to her plump ass then down one thigh. As I came up the other leg, I slid two fingers inside her, feeling her wetness therein. She squeezed them tightly, using her skill, honed over decades. Yes. Something to be said for experience. Sliding them out and back in, I continued tracing the blade around her back and buttocks, heightening her and my anticipation for what was to come. She swelled up around my fingers and I moved them faster, inserting another. Her breath came faster and she drenched my hand with her juices. Appetizer done. Now it was time.
I removed my fingers and positioned myself behind her for the main course.
"Are you ready?" I asked.
She whimpered a reply and nodded her head. I slowly slid myself inside her much to both our delights and began rocking against her, shaking the table as I did so. The thrusts were slow and deep, making full contact with her at the end of each. One hand held onto her hips while the other continued to trace the frigid blade against her back. Simultaneously with a particularly hard thrust, I pressed down slightly and cut into her skin, just deep enough to draw blood. She gasped, tugged against the restraints, and squeezed my cock in the most delightful way. Blood flowed from the wound, accumulating in the indentation along her spine. I stopped and admired the dark red pool against her fair skin. Folding myself on top of her, I lapped up the dark drink and started thrusting again, harder and faster than before. When I could get no more blood from one cut, I made another, slowing down between each cut and then diving back into her as I soaked my tongue anew. With each cut she gasped and moaned until finally she came as I made the final cut, a little deeper than the rest, but by no means mortal. I drank deeply and slammed into her until I exploded inside. My mouth bathed with her blood, and my body anointed with our mingled juices. Her knees buckled and she relaxed against the table, catching her breath.
After wiping off my mouth and my nether regions with her robe, covering my face, and fixing my trousers, I shoved five pounds under her stomach, whispering, "This is for you if you stay right in this position until after I leave. Agreed?"
She nodded. Sweat droplets decorated her brow. Her fair back was mottled with drying blood, but the wounds had already begun to congeal. She would but need a rest, and all would be fine. I untied one of her hands.
"Count to twenty before getting up, then forget me," I spoke softly, dropping the false accent, and brushed the hair from her face.
She nodded again.
She remained bent over the table until I was out of sight. Before she could've taken another breath, I was out of the building completely and halfway down Gray's Inn Road. Once I was back en route to Knightsbridge, I uncovered my face and kept to the shadows, moving more quickly than human eyes could see. Well before dawn, I arrived home to a darkened house, got undressed, crawled into bed, and drew the curtains around it, satisfied. I settled into sleep, hoping to dream of Avalon.
I awoke the next morning to Cecil standing over me. Once my eyes focused, I could see just by his stance that he was quite cross. Hands on his hips, he stared down at me like an angry wife would to a lazy husband.
"What is it, Cecil?" I rolled over and covered my face with the blanket. Not my ideal morning.
"This," he said, tossing the newspaper onto me. I picked it up and looked at the headlines: VAMPYRE STRIKES AGAIN.
"But..." I stammered.
"This is laying low, m'lord? Twice in two nights? Pardon me for saying so, m'lord but this is too risky. I like it here, and you're jeopardizing our place."
"Don't be insolent, Cecil. I didn't do this," I said throwing the newspaper back and him and pulling the blanket over my eyes again.
"A whore--found in a compromising position in the Chamber of Horrors. Do you really expect me to believe that you didn't do this? Do her?"
That got my attention. I sat up, alert, and wiped the blur from my eyes.
"I did. I mean, I was with a whore in the Chamber of Horrors last night, but I didn't kill her.
She was quite alive when I left." I snatched the paper back from him. This was no way to start a new week. "Just give me a moment to read the article, Cecil. I'll have tea on the balcony in ten."
"As you wish, m'lord," Cecil replied and then left my bedchamber.
"And remember who's lord of this manor," I called after him.
He slammed the door. Getting more brazen by the day.
I read the article:
Police were called to the notorious Gray's Inn Brothel, owned by Madam Jeffries, during the early hours this morning. There they found a prostitute brutally murdered. The woman in question was found by Mrs. Porter, the night attendant, strapped to a table in a compromising position with her throat ripped out and several superficial cuts upon her back. Police have yet to release any further details, but they mentioned that the scene was reminiscent of the previous murder at Lord Pemberton's two nights ago. No other persons on the scene were harmed. Mrs.
Porter told police of a medium-height presumably Irish man who came in late last night and requested that room specifically. She said all of his face and body were covered except for his eyes. She added that this was not uncommon to their clientele, as many are prominent members of London Society. The only clue the police have to go on was the black scarf that gagged the prostitute's mouth, assumedly left by the killer. Further details reported as available.
"How inconvenient." I thought about the events of last night, certain I didn't hurt her enough to kill her. Most certainly didn't 'rip out her throat.' Not even a nibble. The only wounds I left were made with the finger blade. Confounded, I put on my dressing gown and went down to tea, taking the newspaper with me. The table by the window was already set. There were fresh-cut flowers in a vase and a plate of current scones, my favorite non-human food. Moments later, Cecil came in with the tea, poured me a cup, and turned to leave.
"I'd like two drops this morning, Cecil," I said to his back.
"You've already had enough, m'lord," he replied rudely without turning around.
"Now see here," I said in a not too-friendly voice, rising from my seat. "This is still my house and you still work for me. Come back here, Cecil; I will not abide further insolence."
Cecil returned like a petulant child and stood before me, obviously grumpy, holding the silver platter defensively over his heart, as if I'd pluck it out in my anger. I might just if he keeps up such behavior. I sat down again, shoving the newspaper into his hands.
"As I said in my room, I did not kill this woman." We stared at each other intently, but I didn't continue until he lowered his eyes. I shouldn't have to play such alpha male games with my manservant. Indeed! "But it does seem that things do not look good for us, dear man. As you likely read in the article, I did have my face covered, so I will unlikely be identified. The only people who knew I was at the brothel are in this room, and, quite possibly, the actual killer.
Perhaps there was another vampire in London. In fact, I would be quite shocked if there were not more of my kind in a city this large. Still, the article said nothing about fang marks, but rather said the poor woman's throat was ripped out. Anyone, vampire or not, could've done that."
"Indeed, m'lord. My apologies for my behavior." Cecil bowed to me and resumed his normal demeanor. "I believe that you did not kill the woman, but as you said, it isn't a good situation, for now the police no longer think this a random act of violence. They see a pattern, and there will be an investigation."
"But there is nothing to tie me to the crimes."
"Except your scarf, m'lord. Countless people saw you in it last night at the gala," Cecil said.
"True, but I was hardly the only man there with black silk scarf." Still, he did have a point. I would have to get a new scarf, identical to the last, before the next formal event. Thankfully, the scarf was simple and black, without a pattern on it, quite common in my circle.
"Let's just wait and see how the investigation progresses before getting too nervous, shall we? After all, I've overcome far worse. Two drops, please. My tea is getting cold."
With a sigh, Cecil obliged and left. I stirred my tea slowly and gazed out into the grey London day. My thoughts returned to Avalon. Such a dangerous place for a young woman, London. Especially a single, unmarried woman like Avalon. I must find a way to see her again and put all this murder nonsense behind me. She was by far more interesting.
Still this murder was strange. To happen so shortly after I left couldn't be just a coincidence, could it? Certainly the whore wouldn't have stayed in that position for long. She was, after all, still strapped to the table when they found her. Was there another vampire in London? It certainly would be interesting to meet another, but this new player must learn some basic rules. One can't go around indiscriminately killing and still expect to survive in society! Oh no. Perhaps I could be a mentor, of sorts. Perhaps he was following me for that very reason.
I pondered on the concept of me as mentor for a moment and decided that wouldn't work. I truly didn't have the patience or desire to teach another. No. I'd rather go it alone, or with Avalon, of course. I could certainly teach her a few things.
I sipped my tea. Cold. Setting it down, I looked out at the street. The traffic outside my window was quite busy, normal for a late Sunday morning, as everyone was returning from church. Such a devout populace. I had a special loathing for the Church of England, mostly because my brother pretty much created it for the sole purpose to divorce my beloved Catherine.
That fat bastard. I did enjoy watching him die of syphilis, though. He deserved much worse.
Many of these pious people were now heading over to Hyde Park for an afternoon picnic.
Lovely day for it. Perhaps I'd be lucky enough to run into Emily Bainbridge again and make up for my rudeness yesternight.
After all, she was the only sure way back to Avalon.
Just before five, I returned from the park in time to meet Nicholas for tea. He would likely be late, as he usually was, but one must stick with one's own principals, and I found it quite rude to be late or to keep a guest waiting.
"Cecil," I called out as I stepped into the foyer. There was no answer. "Cecil!" I shouted, dropping my gloves and bowler on the console. "Where could he be?"
I opened the front door and stepped out with one foot. Thomas was still there with the carriage, polishing the seats. His long leg stretched out the side door while the rest of him was inside the carriage. "Thomas, did Cecil mention anything to you about going out?"
"No, m'lord," he said, looking out from inside.
"Huh. He's not answering."
"Perhaps he's in the cellar, m'lord."
"Perhaps. That will be all for a few hours, Thomas. Make sure the carriage is ready for The Wellington tonight."
"Of course, m'lord. Thank you, m'lord."
"Cecil!" I called, stepping back into the darkened foyer then closing the door behind me.
Although it was not yet dusk, the light was quite dim. I took a box of matches from the ivory box on the console and lit the oil lamps. Appalling that I must do this myself.
"CECIL!" I shouted loudly and with renewed irritation. Certainly the neighbors heard me with that one. I strode angrily through the parlor back toward the kitchen. He had better be in the cellar. Just as I reached the kitchen, Cecil came in through the back door, breathless.
"Where were you? I've been calling!" I demanded.
"Sorry, m'lord. We had run out of biscuits," he said, holding up a small package. "Not sure how that happened, m'lord, but I thought it best to run out and get some more before Lord Stanton arrives."
"Of course. It would've been disastrous!" I agreed. "Tea without biscuits? Indeed."
"Thank you, m'lord."
"Still, there is no excuse for letting us get so low on biscuits, Cecil. It's a staple."
"Of course, m'lord. It won't happen again, m'lord," Cecil said, head bowed.
"It had better not, Cecil. Now get busy. Nicolas will be here presently."
"Yes, m'lord," Cecil set the package down and put the kettle on.
"We'll take tea on the balcony," I said and turned to leave him to his duty.
"Yes, m'lord. Very good, m'lord," he said. I think he felt quite embarrassed about the tangle, as well he should. He was so flushed. He must've run all the way to the market and back. Good man, Cecil.
I went up to the dining room to wait for Nicholas to arrive, and I didn't have to wait long. For a change, Lord Stanton was nearly on time.
"Lord Nicholas Stanton," Cecil announced him at the door. His color was quite back to normal and his appearance impeccable. Nicholas, on the other had, looked playfully tussled. He must've had a nice afternoon!
"Nicholas! Welcome, dear boy. Do come in," I said, rising to greet him.
"Good day, Arthur. We have much to discuss," he responded while striding across the floor to the tea table. He grasped my hand firmly, shaking our hellos like the well-bred men we are.
"Indeed," I said, then to Cecil, "Cecil, the tea?"
"Right away, m'lord."
Nick and I sat down at my favorite tea table with London bustling about out the window beneath us. He looked mischievous, moreso than usual.
"What is it, Nick? You have something on your mind."
"Tell me about the night of Pemberton's Party."
"What of it?" I said. "The same as any such party. Dull conversation. Drinks. Dancing. Were you there? I didn't see you."
"I didn't see you either, or rather I did see you, but only for a moment. Right before you stole away with that older woman. You do have a thing for older women, Arthur."
"Experience, my boy."
"Yes, but in this case, something happened. She ended up dead."
He noticed me with her. This isn't good.
"You're quite direct, dear boy! No beating around the bush with you!" I responded.
Just then, Cecil came in with our tea and served us. However with murder as a subject, I could hardly believe he would want to discuss anything else. After Cecil was dismissed, Nick continued.
"Tell me you didn't, Arthur!" His look was one of excitement and intrigue, not fear. He wanted in on the game.
"And if I did, young Nicholas, what then?" I asked. Nicholas took two sugar cubes from the bowl and plopped them in his tea. I followed suit, as was necessary. Tea without blood was quite horrendous.
"Well, I'd want in on it. You've trumped me, dear chap! Yes! Treating them like the trash they are. Good for you ol' boy. So you did do it then?" His look was one of complete intrigue. He stirred his tea a little too forcefully, causing it to slosh down the side and collect in a brown puddle on the saucer.
"Of course not, Nick," I laughed. "How absurd! I did begin to seduce the woman, but as you saw last night, I haven't been at my best. That night in particular, I was quite corned after much wine and whiskey and became rather ill. I left early. And what about you? How did I not see you that night?"
He didn't seem convinced. He sipped his tea and regarded me for a moment. I kept my expression calm, almost bored. Yet, he did not let up.
"Oh no, Arthur. Not so easy. I know how you like The Chamber. Certainly that's not a coincidence." His eyes didn't leave mine, nor did they even blink. It was as if he was trying to see my guilt or innocence betrayed somewhere deep in my eyes. He, of course, had no idea of the level of my deception skills.
However, if he continued down this line of inquiry, this could pose a problem. Now I remember why I choose not to keep close friends. I would hate to have to kill Nicolas. He was an interesting fellow after all.
"I do enjoy the Chamber of Horrors from time to time, but I haven't done so for quite some time now. I went to the airship gala last night. We spoke there, remember?" I said, tapping my temple to insinuate he was rather stupid or insane. "Perhaps you were on the ran-tan yourself, ol'
chap."
"Of course I remember, but there was much more night left after the ship landed, and I know you are quite the night owl after all. What did you do when you left the airship."
Now I was quite bored with this conversation. Images of his neck snapping filled my head, but that certainly wouldn't look good with these other murders. Especially if I used his head as a teapot. The living did have a tendency to become quite the nuisance. Though all these thoughts, my expression did not change from mild amusement.
"You have quite the imagination, Nick," I said, sipping my tea. He didn't let up but rather stared at me intently. "If you must know, I was with Avalon." I lied. Well, I did call the whore
'Avalon.' Did that count?
"But she virtually ignored you last night!"
"What can I say, ol' chap? In the end, she couldn't resist my charms."
"They never can."
I drank the last of my tea and poured us each another cup. Nicholas took a biscuit from the tray and took a bite.
"Besides, I think you were too busy with your Nancy to truly notice what anyone else was doing or not doing, wouldn't you say?"
"She does pose a challenge, but I'll break her down yet."
"No doubt you will, dear boy. No doubt you will."
"Your biscuits are stale, dear boy. Must tell your man," he said and proceeded to dip the biscuit in his tea.
"How odd. He just picked them up today."
Nick seemed to drop the theory of me as murderer, at least out loud, even if he didn't drop the subject.
"So what do you make of all this vampire business, Arthur? Do you believe in such a creature?"
"Of course not. Balderdash. It's just the press selling papers is all."
Nicholas was silent. He took another biscuit and dipped it in his tea.
"Don't tell me you believe this nonsense!" I said with the appropriate amount of alarm in my tone.
"Well, father says he's heard of such creatures. He even has a book on it. The entire business is rather fascinating, don't you find? Murder and monsters. How exciting."
"I find it all rather droll and commonplace, dear boy."
"What do you think then, Arthur?"
"It's likely just a demented man. A lunatic, perhaps. Or, at best, one who fancies himself to be this mythical vampire. No doubt the police will catch up with him soon enough."
"Perhaps you are right." Then after another moment he added, "I wonder what that says about you, dear boy. You frequent the same brothel as a madman."
"Indeed. I'm surprised you don't go there yourself. You do like them young after all."
"Yes, but not that young. Did I tell you about Lady Bloomington's daughter last week.
During her debutante ball! She certainly came out, dear boy," he said with a mischievous grin.
"She was a delicious peach!"
"And what of your virginal twins from the park?"
"Virginal? Not anymore! And all before their debutante ball this coming week. I'm afraid I won't be able to make it to their ball after all. They will be terribly disappointed, no doubt," Nick said with a grin.
The rest of tea was spent comparing conquests as usual. We met about once a month for tea to discuss seduction strategy and the like. He was good, but I was so very much better. Then I should be after a few centuries. Not all that bright, Nicholas. He unquestionably had the looks, but he was rather dim over all. Not that the women cared. They only saw prestige, titles, and money. They deserved him and his treachery.
Nicolas would make a ruthless vampire. Perhaps if it comes down to it, I'd turn him rather than kill him. Might be nice to have a friend on the prowl. But could I truly stand eternity with Nicholas?
Against my better judgment, I returned to the brothel after sunset. This time, I had Thomas drive me to the East End and drop me a few blocks away. It was a chilly evening, especially for Spring. The rain was falling in large drops that felt cool even on my cold skin. The cobblestone roads looked almost new, washed clean from the rain, and shone a silvery hue in the gas lights.
The streets were empty. Uncustomarily so. Whereas most evenings were filled with the city folk bustling to and fro, going about their business, very few people were out tonight. I had only seen one other chap on the street, and he quickly changed direction when he saw me. Come to think of it, even on the drive over, there had been relatively few carriages out. Perhaps all of London was reacting to these murders. An eerie silence surrounded me as I made my way down Gray's Inn Road, and I thought about the events of the afternoon, or rather, the lack thereof. The park had been a bust. Although full of people, who must feel safe during the day and amongst large crowds, I didn't run into Emily or Hazel or even Eliza. Then with Nick's suspicions to complicate things. Still, I couldn't stop thinking of Avalon. Well, Avalon and this curious murder.
The thought of another vampire in London shouldn't come as such a surprise. After all, it was quite a large city. No way to tell, of course. Not until I could see the body and get more information. But why did I even care? Must be self-preservation. Just the thought of another, indiscriminately killing under the guise of 'vampire' set me on edge. My thoughts strayed again to Avalon, and I wondered what she was doing this cold night. My feet fell heavily on the stones, mocking the absent cadence of my dead heart.
As I approached the alley, I could see that the place was still overrun with police, so I kept my distance. I wanted to shove my hands in my pockets and hide my face as I passed, but that would arouse more suspicion than a gentleman out for a stroll. I kept my head high and set my walking cane firmly on the ground with each determined step. A few coppers looked up as I passed across the street from them. I waved confidently and continued walking. They looked away without notice. I took the opportunity to duck down an alley opposite the brothel and hid in the shadows beneath a short eave. Shaking the rain from my coat, I caught a familiar, sweet scent, but before I could explore the source, I bumped into something in the darkness there. I wasn't alone.
"Oi!" a deep voice said next to me, high above my own ear.
"Pardon me, sir," I apologized, moving out from under the eave into the relative light. The man stepped out, too. He was much taller than me and rough around all the edges. His beard was scruffy and his hat was torn. His jacket was smeared in mud and also torn in several places, but he was handsome enough beneath it. Strong jaw, deep set eyes, colored an even deeper blue. He wore the clothes of a dock worker and was chomping on the end of a nearly disintegrated cigar butt.
Another smaller man, possibly a young lad, stepped up behind him. This one was shorter than me. Together, they made quite an interesting pair. Shabby and dirty just like the larger man.
His hands were on his rather small hips, and he looked quite cross, from what I could see of his beardless face. His wide brimmed hat shadowed most of it. Many people would be frightened stumbling upon two men such as these in a dark London alleyway across from a murder scene, but I'm much scarier if I need to be.
"What're you doing here?" the smaller one said. His voice hadn't deepened yet, so he must be quite young.
"I'm just out for an evening stroll," I said.
"In the rain?" the lad chided back at me.
"I like the rain," I snapped back.
How terribly unconvincing of me. Why was I so being defensive? I didn't owe these ruffians an explanation. They appeared even more suspicious than I did, dressed as they were and lurking in a dark alley across from the murder scene. I straightened my coat and held my head up high, letting the heavy raindrops fall past the brim of my hat and hit my cheeks.
As the two moved further out of the shadows, I stood my ground and prepared to defend myself. It would be messy right across from all the police, so it would have to be quick. If it came to that. The boy looked up at me, bringing his face out of his hat's shadow into the moonlight. My heart filled with joy! The young lad wasn't a young lad at all, but rather my beloved Avalon dressed in an old pair of filthy dungarees with dirt smudged on her sweet face.
"Avalon?" I said quietly, not yet sure of my own eyes.
"SHHH!" she scolded. "We're undercover."
"Undercover for what?"
The large man elbowed Avalon none too gently; she didn't continue.
"Victor Dawson," the large man said, offering his hand. It was gloved as well. I shook it and caught a glimpse of something strapped to his wrist, but I couldn't make it out without being obvious.
"Arthur York," I replied.
"Lord York," Avalon interjected, hands still on her hips. Her exasperation aroused me.
"So, you two know each other?" Victor said.
"We've made an acquaintance, last night on the dirigible." Avalon said, looking at me suspiciously.
"Indeed we did," I replied. "It was the highlight of my week." I bowed slightly to her, ever the gentleman.
"You still didn't tell me what you are doing here. At the scene of last night's murder?" She took a step in front of Victor and stood squarely before me, face stern. Jaw set. Lips forming that perfect, adorable "o." Eyes glaring with suspicion. I could just make out the curve of her breasts beneath the baggy shirt. Her jacket was spread wide open, held back by the little fists that remained planted on her hips. A rope belt, frayed on the ends, kept her dungarees in place. Just one slice with a knife and that belt would split in two...
I smiled at my own imagination. "Morbid curiosity."
"Morbid curiosity?" That seemed to appease her slightly, for she dropped the exasperated stance and crossed her arms. Much to my disappointment, her jacket fell back into place, covering any sign that she was a woman beneath all that grime. "You don't seem the type. Aren't you too young for such curiosity?" she said.
Yes. It was this again. My age, or rather, my appearance of age, especially to a woman of middle-age. I died when I was quite young. Imagine the nightmare of being a teenager forever.
Especially being treated like someone's wayward son, age after age, when my knowledge and experience surpassed all of the oldest elders of any generation. It has been quite the inconvenience, as one may expect. Fortunately for me, due to my mannerisms and fine style, I could usually pass for twenty or so, but rarely older. It worked well for lonely, desperate wives of crotchety old men, but all this bright lady saw was a young, inexperienced aristocrat. I must certainly change that.
"I'm not as young as all that," I replied, crossing my arms in kind. I focused in deep on her eyes, and she felt me there, for she took an unconscious step back. "Besides," I continued, relaxing my stance, "Vampires. How original and interesting. It's just sensational press, isn't it? I mean, there are no such things as vampires, are there? I mean, how preposterous. Still it piques one's curiosity, doesn't it? It certainly has piqued mine."
"Oh vampires exist all right," Avalon said and Victor elbowed her again. This time she didn't stop but rather gave Victor quite the glance, telling him she wasn't at all pleased with being jolted so. His change in expression told me he got her meaning.
"You best get out of here, lad," Victor said to me. He was in his mid-forties, which made him about a decade older than Avalon, and he seemed to be quite protective of her. He had measured me up during my exchange with Avalon and decided I wasn't a threat. Now I was just an annoyance.
"I am not a lad, good sir, and I don't particularly take kindly to being told what to do," I said, which actually sounded just like something a lad would say. "As I said, I'm out for an evening stroll and my curiosity got the better of me. What are you two doing here, at the scene of such a crime? Certainly, this is no place for a lady."
"Like you, I gather, there is more to me than meets the eye, Lord York," Avalon said.
"Call me Arthur." I smiled.
She didn't do either.
"And, like you, Lord York, I do not owe an explanation. Please continue on your way, and we shall continue on ours."
"Very well," I said, tapping my cane twice on the cobblestones. "It was a pleasure to see you again, Avalon. I do believe fate has taken over in our case, and we are destined to see each other again." I tipped my hat to her, and she turned away quite crossly. It was absolutely adorable.
"I wouldn't count on it, Lord York. Good evening," she said, walking toward the road.
And with a smirk from Victor, he dropped his cigar butt and ground it into the cobblestones with his boot, even though it hadn't been lit. Then he followed her out onto the street. The two turned right down Gray's Inn Road, with their hands in their pockets and heads down, and walked away.
I, of course, did not go my own way. Or rather, perhaps I did. For it was quite clear to me that wherever Avalon goes, I must follow. This woman was far more interesting than the possibility of another vampire in London. She was my way now.
Deeper down the alleyway I saw an iron drain pipe leading up the side of the building, strangely, starting about a story up. I kept close to the wall in the shadows and tripped over a wooden crate. A dozen rats scrambled out of it and crossed the other side of the alley, their little feet paddling through puddles, leaving ripples in their wake. When I got to the underside of the pipe, I quickly checked to see that no one was at the mouth of the alley or in the street, and then I jumped up, grabbed hold of the bottom, and moving hand over hand, hastened up to the top of the building. It took mere seconds before I was striding along the front edge of the buildings with Avalon and Victor in view, walking on the street below. London, from this particular vantage point, was dark and dirty, just the way I liked it. The streets below were dimly lit with gas lamps, illuminating the few people brave enough to walk about this cold night full of murder and monsters. Windows, sporadically lit up along the buildings in the grey night, became the eyes of London, watching all life go about its business. Far across the city, I could see the roofs of buildings stretching back toward the Thames and north toward Hampstead Heath. Smoke billowed out of chimneys, even on this mildly cool night. The air was still so damp, that many lit fires to keep pneumonia and croup at bay even during the warmer months. All the smoke made London even hazier by night, that mixed with the steam coming from factories and the steam trams, another recent development in London. Londoners took up to calling them CATs, for Compressed Air Tram. One certainly wouldn't find me on one of those contraptions. Although I did enjoy that dirigible. Perhaps I'll give the CAT a go as well.
Feeling like a living gargoyle looming over the streets below, I followed them for several blocks before they turned west on Marylebone Road and proceeded for several more blocks until turning north on Baker Street. More people were out in this area, although they stuck close together in groups. Seemed the crowds increased slightly the further we traveled from Gray's Inn. Victor and Avalon didn't speak once on the journey, and all I could hear were the clatter of carriages on the cobblestone and groups of people talking in the pubs I passed along the way. It took nearly an hour before they reached their destination. I took note of the building into which they turned and jumped down the backside of it. Pulling the brim of my hat down low, I walked around the block back onto Baker Street until I reached their building, the third in a succession of identical adjoined homes. A hansom sat still just off the curb in front of her abode. Above the door into which they entered was the number 219. The bottom story was done in a white marble façade, the cervices blackened with age. A wrought iron fence enclosed the bay window at street level, likely the parlor. Above, three more stories stretched up into the London-grey night, brown brick with two windows trimmed in white on each floor. The second story had a small balcony of its own, also corralled by a wrought iron fence. I stood there looking up, waiting. There--on the second story, right window--I saw a light brighten, and then dimmer, as if someone had just struck a match. Then another. This must be their dwelling. Were they lovers?
My shriveled heart sank.
The door to my right opened suddenly and out came two well-dressed gentlemen. One had a sandy mustache and the hard look of a military man and the other wore an interesting hat and smoked a rather large pipe. They looked at me quite curiously, as I was just standing on the walk, looking up at their neighbor's window. I nodded ceremoniously and began walking, passing them and turning the corner eastward. I just made the block, and when I returned, the men and the carriage were both gone. It was fairly early in the evening, so the streets were still too busy to listen from the balcony, even with the diminished activity. Plus, that would be too conspicuous and strange, so rather I leaned against the marble wall between two doors as if just enjoying the evening. Fortunately the rain had subsided, so it wouldn't appear all that strange. I settled in and focused my hearing onto the different voices coming through the walls until I recognized Avalon's sweet voice.
"...know a thing," I heard her say.
"How can you be sure? You think it was just happenstance that he came upon us tonight?"
the voice of Victor followed.
"He's just young and curious, perhaps too spoiled by wealth is all," she said. That stung.
"I still say there is something questionable about his appearance tonight. Perhaps he's the vampire, Avalon. He could be the murderer!"
Avalon chuckled. "Don't be silly, Victor. He's harmless."
Truly must break her of that perspective, and soon.
"He is quite pale."
"It's London. Everyone is quite pale." Her voice took a scolding, exasperated tone with this.
"I want you to arrange a meeting with him. He's obviously interested in you, and we can use that to interrogate him, covertly, of course. I have no doubt you can find out some things with your...charms."
Avalon laughed more heartily this time. The sound filled my heart with joy. "Right, Victor.
With my charms. I am just an old spinster landlady after all. What skills could I possibly have?"
"Exactly. He'll never see it coming. Plus, I'm going to give you this."
All was silent for a moment or two, as if she was looking at whatever it was Victor was showing her.
"What is it?" Avalon asked, finally. Her voice contained a lilt full of wondrous curiosity.
What was it, indeed. My thoughts exactly. I wish I was up on that balcony. What was he giving her?
"It's a vampire detector. It's something I've been working on, but it hasn't been tested in the field yet. Here. I've put a chain on it so you can wear it as a necklace."
"It's rather clunky and obvious. Don't you think?"
"You can wear it beneath your walking-jacket when you meet him for tea. Soon, I think. I'm sure he'll be thrilled to hear from you." Victor paused, and things were so quiet for a few long moments, I thought they had left the room. But then Victor said, "I'm just quite glad you don't feel the same way," with heavy regret in his voice.
"Victor," she said, even more quietly, as if to remind him of a previous conversation. "Let's not."
"Of course, my dear. Never. Friends to the last." This dark tone I knew all too well. It was one of regret. Longing. Futility. Heartbreak.
So, I have competition.
"Tell me how this works," she said more cheerfully, as if changing the subject away from one to painful or too tedious.
"As you see, it opens similar to a locket." Victor had recovered quickly with Avalon's new direction, for he sounded bright again. "Actually, I used an old pocket watch casing for it. On the inside is a mirror, but this is not an ordinary looking glass, Avalon. My theory is that the darkness of vampires absorb the light. A reflection, after all, is merely light bouncing off of an object. The soulless state of a vampire will absorb the light and that is why they have no reflection."
What people will believe?
"So how does it differ from a regular mirror?"
"You wind it up here, and it sets the gears in motion. See? Changing the spectrum in which the mirror is reflecting. A regular person's reflection does not change, but my theory is that a vampire will appear to disappear and then reappear in different colors as the spectrum changes."
Actually, that might just work. I can't let her see me in that mirror.
"And how am I to casually have him look into this tiny mirror with me so that I might see if he appears...colorful...all the while the gears are turning? Don't you think that might be rather noticeable?"
"I'm sure you'll figure something out."
"Yes. I'm sure I will think of something," she said, doubtfully. "Wouldn't it be easier to ask him to go for a walk in the park during broad daylight?"
"That could work as well, of course. But it's not near as fun."
"Perhaps I'll try a walk in the park first."
"Oh do indulge me my toys, Ava!" There was a smile in his voice again. They were dear to each other even if not lovers.
"Still, I don't think it's him. Come to think of it, my aunt said she had first met him in Hyde Park in the afternoon, so it's certainly not him."
"You could be right, but I would like to make sure. There is some reason he was at the scene of the murder tonight, and there was something about him that I just didn't like."
Probably that I fancy Avalon, I thought spitefully.
"And what if he is a vampire, for argument's sake. What then? Do you expect me to carry a stake with me and dust him in Hyde Park? In his sitting room after tea? Or perhaps one of your strange contraptions strapped to my arm with wooden bullets in my garters. Honestly, Victor.
How will I be discreet with all that?"
Was that what I saw strapped to his arm?
"Just find out first. Don't let on if you suspect. Your safety is always my greatest concern, my dear." That pained tone came back into his voice, if only for a moment. "If you think something is amiss, we'll come at him more prepared another time, together."
"You're just too excited about this vampire stuff. Finally a chance to see if they do exist."
"They do exist," Victor said somberly. "I am quite sure of it and you are, too."
"Yes. I am quite sure of it as well," Avalon said, her voice fading until even I could barely hear it. They said their good-nights to one another, and a moment later, the street was a little darker. They must've snuffed out their candles.
Well. Not lovers, anyway, which pleased me. She seemed more than a little uncomfortable at the most subtle hint of romantic feelings between them. Good. She must be the landlady of the house, and he rents a room from her. Vampire hunters. Of all the women I've had in my time, I fall in love with a vampire hunter.
Of course.
Although it was still hours before dawn (even before midnight!), I made my way through the gloomy streets of London toward my home. Thoughts of Avalon filled my mind. How elegant she looked last night in her gown. How dingy, yet adorable she looked tonight in dungarees.
How luscious she would look dressed in nothing but candlelight. Yet the normal lascivious images didn't follow. The only image I could keep in my head were her eyes and her gentle face.
The curve of her lips. That perfect little "o." I could imagine her naked in my bed looking at me, smiling at me. She was leaning on her elbows and I could see the curve of her backside as it disappeared beneath the sheets, but when I tried to indulge my desire with dirty details of sliding the sheet down and sliding something else inside, my mind would pop back to her eyes.
So. I'm in love with a vampire hunter.
I kicked at a particularly deep puddle and drenched my trousers.
Loving someone whose main purpose was to destroy my kind does indeed present more of a challenge, but it's not impossible. If anything, it even makes me more intrigued. Victor and Avalon seem to know as little about actual vampires as most people did, so I didn't appear to be in any immediate danger. Perhaps I will pre-empt her little investigation with an investigation of my own.
Candlelight. Eyes. Lips. Back. Sheet. Eyes.
Yes. Definitely love.
Since Avalon's home was closer to my own domain than the brothel, I cut through Hyde Park to return home. The trees were a dark silhouette against the moonlit sky. The moon must've been quite bright behind the clouds, for it lightened them to a soft grey, making the night quite brilliant. I could hear animal life all around me going about their business until I approached.
Then they all stopped, silent and waiting, until I walked on and they felt safe. The rustling, chirping, and scurrying would start up again after I had passed. The joy I felt at this natural cycle surprised me. Then something new came over me: a feeling so foreign to me that I couldn't define it at first. It was life. I felt alive! I tossed my walking stick and gloves to the ground, ran up to a silhouetted tree, and jumped onto the lowest branch with ease. The trunk of the tree felt rough against my bare hands. It's woody and earthy scent filled my nostrils, and the sound of the wind amongst the branches filled my ears. The leaves tickled my face and I laughed out loud!
Branch by branch, I scaled the tree until my head surfaced above its tallest branches. I paused a moment and looked around. All of London was laid out before me. Although the view wasn't as great as from the dirigible or even the rooftops, it was a fine view. It was a fine city! It was a fine night!
I wanted to shout out to all of London my love, so I did! An assembly of birds resting in a nearby tree flew away at the sound of my raised voice. I watched them fly in a singular mass up into the bright grey night and reveled in this feeling of life for the first time in centuries. For the very first time, period.
"Home already this evening, m'lord?" Cecil said, surprised to see me so early. He took my proffered coat and picked a twig with leaves out from under my collar, looking at me perplexed.
"That I am, and Thomas is still out and about. I walked home. Do take the dogcart out and fetch him, would you?" I said moving toward the stairs. "Oh, before you go, I'm going to give you a letter to deliver to Lady Bainbridge tonight. I'd like to meet with her tomorrow afternoon."
"Very good, m'lord," Cecil said while hanging my now leaf-free coat on the rack by the front door. He turned as if to ask about the leaves, but I was already sprinting up the stairs.
I removed my gloves, sat down at my writing desk in the library, grabbed my stationary and a fountain pen, and quickly composed an invitation to Lady Bainbridge: Dear Emily,
Please meet me for tea at 4 o'clock in my drawing room.
165 Knightsbridge.
Send reply in the morning.
Yours, Arthur York
I slipped the parchment card into a matching envelope, sealed it with wax, old habits and all, rushed back downstairs, and handed it off to Cecil, who was already dressed and waiting to leave. Good man, Cecil.
"I do believe Lord and Lady Bainbridge are in London through the end of the month. They have houses in Harrington Gardens. Thomas is still over on the East End near the brothel. I trust you will be able to find him?"
"Of course, m'lord."
"Just drop the letter at the Bainbridge house, as it is too late to wait for a reply tonight."
"Very good, m'lord."
After Cecil left, I returned to my library, placed my hat upon my gloves, and walked around the large room, thinking. There was much to do tonight. Much to study. I knew what vampires were really like, obviously, but I had to refresh my memory on what humans thought vampires were. If I was to remain one step ahead of Avalon and Victor, and, more importantly, win Avalon's heart, I would have to convince them beyond a doubt that I was not a vampire.
I had an extensive collection of rare and fine books. After all, I had been collecting them almost since the printing press was invented. That was before my time, of course, but my father had one of the original printed Gutenberg Bibles, and I made sure it came with me when my fiery niece took the throne. I did have a knack for sneaking about undetected, so it just disappeared from her private library one night. That was not what I was looking for, however. The book I craved was on the highest shelf, bound in dark brown leather and without a title anywhere on it.
It was my own collection of vampire mythos and stories throughout the ages, all in one place.
Mostly a journal with scraps and clippings pasted in where appropriate, it was as complete a collection as anyone had. Here were the most commonly believed vampire myths, although, just like most myths, most had nothing to do with the actual truth. The sunlight thing wasn't fallacious unfortunately. Neither was the stake through the heart or decapitation, but the rest was pretty much pure fantasy.
Tonight, it was study. Tomorrow, dispel all suspicion of me as a vampire and position myself to help find the real killer, and perhaps woo the lady in the process.
After studying all night, I didn't awake until one o'clock in the afternoon. When I sleep, I'm dead to the world. Quite literally. I already had two notes waiting for me on my nightstand. One from Lady Bainbridge accepting my offer to tea "with pleasure," and the other an invitation from Avalon, just as she and Victor had planned. Cecil had left the letters as well as today's newspaper on the silver tray. Before I even picked up the paper I saw the headlines. I couldn't believe my eyes. There seems to have been another high profile vampire murder last night. Three nights in a row. Police are baffled, the article read. This victim was a man, Lord Walter Haldenby, aged sixty-four. That name sounded familiar to me, but I couldn't quite place it. Certainly as a titled gentleman, he and I must've made each other's acquaintance, but it somehow felt even more familiar than that.
I put his name out of my head for the time being, for trying to remember where I had heard the name was sending my thoughts in never-ending circles. I arose, donned my dressing gown, and went downstairs where Cecil had tea ready for me.
I took five drops this morning.
Taking my time, I read the article in full, twice, and tried to place Haldenby again to no avail.
It would no doubt come to me. In the mean time, I wrote a reply to Avalon's invitation and enjoyed the rest of my tea.
I had Cecil send the reply back to Avalon, telling her I would not be able to meet with her this afternoon for tea and proposed meeting this evening for dinner instead, although that probably wouldn't help dispel Victor's suspicion, meeting at night. It would still be my preference anyway. It was more intimate and more conducive to my special charms. Since it was after sundown, I would need to be quite convincing of my innocence. After all, very few women could resist my natural charms. Failing that, my supernatural charms.
After my morning tea, I returned to the library where I had spent most of the night refamiliarizing myself with vampire lore. I knew, of course, the reality of being a vampire, but I was still unclear on what humans thought vampires were. The myths were quite varied. Some were completely ridiculous, like the idea that vampires glistened in the sunlight. Perhaps they did the moment before they caught fire. Still one must give credit for originality.
Other myths were more of the normal sort, pertaining to garlic, mirrors, crosses, holy water, and stakes. All ranged drastically as to how each of these things affected vampires. For example, some myths suggested that the wooden stake had to be made from a certain type of wood. Some said ash, others claimed it to be oak or hawthorne. One even said it needed to be silver tipped.
Regardless of the truth on that one, I didn't care to find out first hand, but I gathered that any sharpened stake of wood would do.
The myths on how one became a vampire were equally diverse. That from a virus spread by the consumption of dead human flesh--the cannibal theory--to the number of times one was bitten by a vampire, suggesting that a vampire's fangs held a sort of venom. All balderdash. Vampires are another species that predates most current species. We may even predate the human species.
Vampire origin myths are long forgotten. Antediluvian, no doubt. Not sure how I even know that, as there was no documentation. I never had a vampire tutor to teach me the ways of this new life.
Even the wise Linacre, who was quite learned and a fine tutor to me as heir apparent, wouldn't have known such things. But somehow I knew innately. I also knew that vampires could indeed reproduce, as it were. They can turn a human. It was how I was made after all. Still, I don't understand the science of the matter, but it does have something to do with ingesting vampire blood at or near death.
I thought about the more popular theories along with what was undeniable about me, such as the hue, or lack thereof, of my skin and my aversion to sunlight. As I looked at the papers strewn about my desk and my scribbled notes, my brain was formulating a new plan.
Indeed. That just might work, I thought, then gathered up the papers and arranged them neatly back into their files, along with my large bound vampire journal.
Next, I pulled down my medical journals. I had just a few hours before Lady Bainbridge would be here, so I must hurry. For after my meeting with Emily, I was meeting Avalon, and she would try to make me. She was clever, but I'd think I still had the advantage after 350 years.
Lady Bainbridge arrived precisely on time at four o'clock. Just as I had looked down at my pocket watch to check the time, Cecil stood at the doorway to the parlor situated just off the foyer and announced her. I clasped the watch closed with a tinny snap and replaced it in the small watch pocket in my waistcoat.
"Emily," I said, moving to greet her with my hand extended, "how wonderful to see you again."
"I must admit Lord York," she said, accepting my hand, "I was quite surprised to receive your invitation yesterday. After all, we didn't even get a chance to dance on the airship."
She was reminding me of how I slighted her that evening in favor of her niece, and none too subtly either. Still, she wouldn't be here if she was truly cross.
"And that, my dear lady, I truly regret," I said and then kissed her proffered hand. They were gloved in white satin. She wore a chartreuse dress with white accents that buttoned all the way up to her chin. She turned and gave a matching chartreuse parasol to Cecil. Her medium-brown hair was pulled back tightly into a bun with loose-hanging ringlets. A small chartreuse hat with a long chartreuse feather was pinned in place. She took my arm, and I led her to a small, round tea table near the front window in the parlor, but conveniently out of the afternoon sunlight. It was covered with a burgundy tablecloth and set with my fine afternoon china. Two ornate wooden chairs, padded with dark tapestry, sat on either side of the table. They were scandalously not skirted, so their shapely legs were bare for all to see. As I pulled out the padded chair for her to sit, I saw her large, beautiful bustle which was, of course, chartreuse. It dangled delicately over a white skirt.
Chartreuse: what a horrid color.
I sat opposite her across the table, dressed in black, as usual. My gloves were black as well.
Always black. Even the parlor decor was dark. The walls were done in such a deep blue they were almost black. The golden accents were that of a deep gold, rather than brassy, and they complimented the dark walls brilliantly, like moonlight reflected on water at night. A dark marble fireplace dominated the far wall, its mantle garnished with an array of deep red roses. The deep burgundy and blue rug that covered most of the floor created a warm, cozy feeling. I had spent many a cold night in this parlor by the fire, reading or writing at my leisure. Even the curtains around the window were heavy, deep burgundy, which proved useful in keeping out the daylight when necessary.
I liked it dark.
"I'm so pleased you could make it on such short notice," I said, leaning against the table, towards her. Let the flirting begin.
"It was rather," she said, looking out the window rather than looking at me. She was being coy. "But one is always glad to accept an invitation to tea with such fine company."
With the last, her eyes turned to me, and we held each other's gaze without speaking for many moments. I could already feel the heat coming from her, but still my thoughts went back to Avalon. Must stop that, however, at least for this afternoon. Lady Bainbridge must feel as if she was the only woman in the world. She may still be my best way to get to Avalon, and I certainly could learn much about my beloved through her. Mustn't burn this chartreuse bridge just yet.
Besides, it has been a few days, and a man has needs!
"Ah! Here is Cecil."
Cecil carried a silver tray with a steaming pot of tea, a bowl of sugar cubes, small sandwiches, and chocolate biscuits. He had a napkin draped over his wrist, so as to more effectively hide the bloodletting contraption. I'd be having no drops with guests, of course. He expertly placed all the matching plates on the lace-covered table between us while balancing the silver platter in the other hand, but Lady Bainbridge and I never took our eyes off of each other.
She was ripe indeed. Dare I say even eager.
"Thank you, Cecil. That will be all," I said with a lazy wave of my hand and with my gaze set squarely on the chartreuse woman before me. I'd like to get her out of that gown, if for no other reason than to save my eyes. Still may not have time for that today, and I'd much rather Avalon satisfy those particular needs.
Emily broke our gaze first, turning again to ostensibly look out the window, but it was meant as a message to me. She would not let me off the hook so easily. Now the games begin.
"Did you have a nice time with my niece on the airship, Lord York?" she said, her voice purposefully aloof. She picked up a cup of tea and plopped two sugar cubes within. She stirred it slowly without looking back at me.
"I did. Interesting girl." With whom I'm completely enamored. "Although I only spoke with her a short time after you left" Must choose my words carefully. Build an alliance without being too insulting to my love. "Very interesting girl. Rather an odd bird, is she not?"
"My dear, Arthur," she said, turning her eyes back me at last. There it is. Didn't really take much, did it? "You have no idea!" she said, reaching across the table to touch my arm as if to ensure she had my full attention. For the purpose of this visit, at least, she did. However my more honorable intentions were reserved for Avalon alone. "She's my niece by marriage, of course; otherwise I'd have much more to say about the way she chooses to live... and dress. Horrid, really. If she were in my family, she would've been married, as woman should be. It just isn't proper." She sipped her tea, quite pleased with herself.
"Why isn't she married?" I inquired, showing only polite curiosity, but my true interest in Avalon's life ran much deeper than that. So, this was good. She thinks it's her idea to talk about Avalon. Must keep it that way.
"She refused!" she exclaimed with a scandalous lilt. She set her tea down and leaned in, assuming the gossip position. She even lowered her voice. "She had several offers in her day, which is now long passed, of course. But ten, fifteen years ago, she had them lined up. As you noticed," Momentary coldness. "She's not bad to look at, but she refused them all. Said she had no interest in men or getting married. Ever. A modern woman, she. Rather, she studied and went to college, the gall!"
"Indeed. It is uncommon." I tried not to look overly interested. I sipped my tea and looked away, as if bored with this conversation. It worked, for she came back at me with even more appalled zeal.
"Uncommon! It's scandalous, my dear man! Once her father died, for her mother had died in childbirth and her father never remarried, she was all alone. Her father's death did trouble the poor girl, but there it is! It was her own fault she had nowhere to go."
"What about her family's land?"
"All went to Henry, my husband, Albert's older brother, as Albert Bainbridge had no other issue but Avalon, unfortunate man. He certainly couldn't leave an estate to a spinster!"
The look on her face demanded that I agree. After all, it was social law!
"Certainly not." I played my social role well.
"So, my Henry took pity on her and bought her a house on Baker Street. She works there as a landlady. Her tenants are her life now. That and her books, of course. She does love her books. I say, terribly unnatural. Don't you find?"
"Quite," I said, sipping my tea. My mind was reeling with images of Avalon and how it must've pained her to lose her father, but I kept my outward expression courteous, yet uninterested.
"So, Arthur," Emily said, reaching across the table to touch my hand, "Enough about my bizarre spinster niece and more about you! Do tell me your story." She patted my hand twice before picking up her tea again for another sip. She sat in silence, graciously waiting for me to begin.
Here was a good time to practice, for my story must be the same with Avalon, as they are family. I did not fear that any indiscretions between me and Emily would find their way back to Avalon's ears, as Emily had as much reason to be discreet as I, but there might be small talk.
Must ensure they heard the same story, more or less. Best stick with the truth, or as near as the truth as I could get without giving too much detail. Naturally leaving out the supernatural parts.
"Not much to tell. Mother died in childbirth." True, just not giving birth to me. "And father was consumptive." The official story, anyway. No need to mention that this was all over 350
years ago. Certainly. "That left me alone with a fine inheritance, so here I am." I raised my teacup to her in a sort of toast. Must milk the pathos with Avalon, as I was quite sure my normal charms wouldn't sway her, as they haven't yet, but I mustn't let this one feel too maternal.
"Such a sad tale," Emily said with the aforementioned maternal pity. This time her hand stoked my shoulder rather than my hand. Must change directions quickly.
"Not at all. I rather like being alone. I mean, once the grieving was over, and it was several years ago, my dear lady. No need to feel sorry for me." I smiled and she followed suit.
"Truly," I continued, "it's not much to tell. I'd much rather talk about you." I took her hand from my shoulder, kissed it, and then laid it back onto the lacy tablecloth near mine, allowing my hand to linger on hers while my eyes told her that I was indeed a man, not a boy.
It didn't take her long to take full advantage of that opening. She smiled and then prattled on about her childhood and marrying at such a young age to a much older man. Twenty-plus years her senior. Still, it could've been worse. She alluded to her needs not being met anymore and that was my opening.
"Shall we retire to the library?" I asked, placing my hand over hers, which she took, offering a sweet, knowing smile as she did so. "It is much more... intimate."
We passed Cecil on the way out of the parlor, and I said to him, "We'll be in the library, Cecil, going over some important papers. Please do not disturb us unless absolutely necessary."
This, of course, was Cecil's cue to do just that. Disturb us after about twenty minutes. Time enough to establish my intentions of seduction, but not enough time for any true impropriety.
After all, Emily would have to go through the stages a proper married woman must go through in a seduction. The flirtation. The feigned insult. The blushing. Before finally giving in to what we both knew we were going to do. But she had prattled on so long about herself, that I no longer had time for intercourse before I had to dress to meet Avalon tonight. Although such action would be greatly pleasurable, it was with Avalon that I would much rather be. Hers was a much more important meeting.
This was also supposed to be a long seduction, so getting pelvic too soon would ruin it. After all, Emily would only be an appetizer to Avalon's main course. And appetizers can be skipped to save room for the more succulent meal. With some luck, I could forego this one and have my carnal appetite satiated with Avalon. Long shot, that. But still, one can dream.
We entered the library and she commented about my extensive book collection, making a snide remark about how Avalon and I would make a good couple after all. It was meant to put me on the defensive, but it didn't work.
She sat on the chaise longue. Her chartreuse dress grossly clashed with the rich, dark-patterned burgundy upholstery of the chaise, as well as with the overall darkness of the room, which was mostly done in deep walnut and burgundy tones with gold accents. Bookshelves not only lined the walls of the entire room, stretching up to the third story, but there were more self-standing bookshelves in the center of the room as well. A wooden ladder sufficed to reach the higher books, and it was set into a track so that one may move it from section to section. Quite a fine room, really, and this chartreuse dress was a blight upon it all. She looked like a giant lime bobbing in a pool of fine wine.
I closed the heavy door and sat down next to her, but not too close. Not yet.
"Let's drop any pretense that we don't know what's about to happen, shall we?" she said, and I was immediately turned on.
This was new!
Before I could even respond, she had moved against me and was kissing me. Her hand massaged me just in the right place. She sure knew what she was doing, and she wasn't shy about it. Only a few moments of her forceful caresses, and she had my complete attention.
Everywhere. Chartreuse or no, that dress was coming off. Soon.
"Mmmm," she said, stroking me over my trousers, "let's take him out to play."
Really?
This woman wasted no time. My pants were unbuttoned and I was out for all to see before I could fully comprehend what was happening. Certainly a change from the customary order of things.
"Um," I said, not quite sure how to stop her or if I even wanted her to stop. What a complicated position. My heart was with Avalon, but my body was here, and-- OH! She grasped me firmly in her gloved hand and began to move it up and down my engorged shaft.
Ohhh...yes....
NO! Avalon. Must remember Avalon. My love. She began stroking me faster. Ohhh... No. No.
Avalon. I tried to keep my thoughts on Avalon. Must stop Emily. Ahhh.....
Before I could formulate any words one way or the other, she slid to the floor between my knees. After using it for a brief, coquettish smile, her warm, soft mouth covered me completely.
She licked all around my shaft, and I moaned out loud despite myself. Damn the signal I gave to Cecil!
Avalon. Avalon. Don't forget about Avalon.
She slid her mouth around me until her lips touched the base, and then she slowly withdrew, flicking her tongue on the underneath side as she did. It was ecstasy. Over and over again, sucking gently as she reached the tip before plunging down again and again and again. I threw my head back to mask the fangs that had descended in my excitement. No killing my beloved's aunt. At least not today.
Just as I was about to come, as if she could tell, she stopped suddenly.
"My turn," she said, and she climbed on top of me. I was mostly reclined on the chaise longue by this time. She gathered up those chartreuse folds, exposing (yes! chartreuse!) stockings that extended up to her thighs, straddled me, and lowered herself onto my now throbbing member. She slid down with ease and suddenly chartreuse didn't seem like such an awful color. She rode me expertly. When I tried to guide her hips with my hands, she took them none too gently and thrust them up over my head, holding them there while she rode me until she came. Twice. Each time I came close to climax, she would slow down and prolong it.
Experience. Beats virginal blushing every time.
Cecil would be busting in any moment.
I bucked up into her and it was she who moaned this time, but she wouldn't relinquish control. She rode me harder and harder until my knees buckled. A bouncing chartreuse delight, that woman was. She and I cried out in climax together, just as Cecil opened the door.
He didn't even blink. He had seen much worse.
"Urgent matter needs your attention, m'lord," he said.
Breathlessly, I responded. "I'll be there presently, Cecil."
I fully expected Emily to cover her face in shame, but she sat proudly there on top of me, still moving slightly, without the least bit of embarrassment.
"Thank you, Cecil," she said, smiling. "That will be all."
Amazing woman, I decided. I underestimated her.
I think I have a new favorite color.
Thomas had the brougham waiting at the curb. I had dressed in my finest black brocade dining jacket, trimmed with silver buttons, and deep red and black brocade waistcoat. The combination complemented my fair complexion. Although I rarely wear color of any kind, red was reserved for special occasions, and tonight was very special, indeed. A black ascot held with an opulent pearl pin completed the finery along with black gloves and a top hat. I stepped into the coach anxious to meet Avalon at The Wellington in Piccadilly, seven o'clock. It was a beautiful Monday evening in London. Chilly, but not too cold. Dim and grey. The streets were full of people milling about, and I watched them with uncommon joy. It must be a symptom of love. Or perhaps love coupled with complete coital satisfaction. Emily had left without even a kiss goodbye. Exactly as I liked it with such women. No attachments or pretense of affection.
Just in, orgasm, out. Perfect.
Since I had arrived about ten minutes early, I stood outside The Wellington with my hands resting on my walking stick just watching London night life. There were still fewer people out than usual, but many more than a few nights ago. No doubt they kept out of the darker areas of London like Gray's Inn anyway, but here in Covent Garden, they felt safe enough. Several groups were lingering outside the restaurant, no doubt waiting for a seat. Cecil had sent word early this morning for a reservation. Although there was hardly need, for every restaurant in London had room for a viscount at any given time. One of the many perks of being well-born.
I thought singularly about my mannerisms to Avalon. What to show her and what to hide. I had to show her intelligence, for she respected the learned. Had to play down the title, as such things were of no importance to her. If anything, she found nobility and the well-born elitist, which, of course, we were. No games. I had to be brutally honest and open. Hopefully, that would be a pleasant surprise for her, one who didn't take to such nonsense as fleeting fashion and flirting games. From her, I had to evoke compassion, respect, and perhaps a bit of intrigue. The usual to hide, of course, but I would not be as forward as I normally was. No, I had to be humble and proper. This was a different kind of woman than that of the scrumptiously chartreuse Emily Bainbridge. I still smelled her on me, and that was enough to have to adjust my trousers on the sly outside this quite crowded restaurant. I quickly started thinking about Henry and Catherine, picturing them together, as much as memory would allow, trying to anger myself so as not to linger on thoughts of Emily. His fat frame gyrating on top of her. Of course, he was not fat until long after he had shamed and discarded her, but that's how I chose to remember it anyway.
Indeed. That image never fails to wash all amorous thoughts away.
A simple black carriage drawn by a single grey mare pulled up, and Avalon stepped out. She handed the driver a few coins from her black satin bag. She was a vision, looking like a fine woman again, not like the ruffian boy of yesternight. She was again dressed all in black. My color of choice as well, but unusual for a woman. Then, this was quite an unusual woman. This dress, simpler than the last but no less lovely, was black and white striped, double breasted, with black ribbon accents down each side of the bodice and around her wrists. The ribbon also criss-crossed up her arm, inspiring images of a corset. Well done. A small, ruffled top hat was pinned in place atop her ebony curls and adorned with a matching ribbon around its belly. The ensemble's black full skirt was adorned with the same black and white striped pattern draped in two frilly accents across the top as well as in three rows along the bottom, creating a flirty ruffle.
The bottom tip of the skirt brushed the ground as she walked, properly covering her ankles, although I had caught a scandalous peek when she had emerged from the carriage.
Bowing to her, I offered my arm. She took it, as was proper.
"Good Evening, Miss Bainbridge," I said, tipping my hat to her.
"Good Evening, Lord York. Lovely night, isn't it?"
"It is indeed. Might I say that you look beautiful tonight?"
"Thank you," she said politely. "That is a fine suit you have as well."
It was a start.
"Shall we?" I asked, as I led her inside. The interior ambiance of The Wellington reflected my intentions: dark and romantic. Scores of couples huddled around small, candlelit tables, laying out a carpet of twinkling lights before us.
"Lord York," the maitre d' said. "How lovely to see you again."
"Always a pleasure, Alfred. I trust you got Cecil's request this morning."
"I did, m'lord, but you know you need no reservation here."
See.
"Of course, but one likes to be polite," I replied.
"Indeed, m'lord."
"Alfred, this is Miss Avalon Bainbridge," I said indicating my lovely dinner date.
"Pleasure, Miss."
"How do you do?" Avalon said.
"We have a succulent lamb tonight m'lord, and the goose is top notch."
"Excellent. We look forward to a fine meal."
After this brief exchange of pleasantries, the maître d' showed us to our table. We wound through a maze of succulent dishes, both on and at the tables. Avalon walked in front of me, and I was a mixture of pleased and disappointed to see that her black bustle was merely a cinching of some material, not a bustle at all really. It was good, though, as it would keep my mind on the matter at hand and not on her... bustle. The maître d' pulled out Avalon's chair, and I took my own seat across from her and regarded the menu.
Avalon sat quietly, playing the perfect lady. So she did know a thing or two about society.
Once the waiter came and left with our order, she broke her silence.
"Thank you for joining me this evening, Lord York, I know it was quite forward of me to invite you." Her black-gloved hands rested properly in her lap. Mine reached for the wine glass and fiddled with its stem. I was singularly intrigued as to where this evening would lead.
"Not at all, Miss Bainbridge. I am delighted to meet with you."
"Please, do call me Avalon." She showed no sign of shame or anxiety, just the opposite. Her shoulders were back, lower back arched in a rather scrumptious manner as it caused her breasts to be more pronounced. I didn't mind. Not one bit.
"Only if you call me Arthur," I said smiling, thrilled that it was she who suggested the familiar this time. I noticed a rather heavy gold chain disappear down her bodice. That must be Victor's vampire detector.
She shifted uncomfortably in her seat for a moment, but then obliged.
"Very well, Arthur. I wanted to apologize for my rudeness since I met you. I am not used to the company of men. Well besides Victor, but he doesn't count as a man, does he? He's my partner and my tenant, you see, so there's that."
This was a great start to what sure was to be an exciting evening.
"Allow me to apologize as well, Avalon. I was perhaps too forward on the airship. A lady of your standing deserves much more respect, and I intend to give it." I could play nice, too.
"You're very kind," she said, bowing her head to me.
"You look quite lovely this evening, although I suppose that is not unusual for you."
She looked down at her hands and smiled, but she didn't say anything. Flattery and compliments didn't work on this woman. If anything, it put her on guard.
My previous assessment was correct, it seems. No games of flirtation or flattery. Honesty.
Forthright honesty. I'll just stick with the truth, more or less, and just leave out some tiresome details.
"I was actually very glad you called," I said to her. "I wanted to continue the conversation from last night. You see, I wasn't exactly honest about something, and I feel inexplicably comfortable with you. Isn't that strange?"
This caught her attention. She traced her neck with her hand, no doubt fingering the chain of that contraption hidden beneath her jacket. How she would work that into the conversation, I was anxious to find out.
The waiter approached with a bottle of wine. Deep red, just as I liked my drinks. He poured me a sample. I swirled it and then put my nose into the glass and smelled it. It had a complex bouquet, a mixture of a reglisse and a woody aroma, just a hint of cassis with an intensely corpulent density. Quite nice. I tasted it, and it immediately filled my senses with its hearty flavor. I swirled the dark liquid around my tongue and reveled in its full-bodied flavor before swallowing. The only thing better would be blood, itself. I approved it with a nod, and he poured us both a glass.
"To... new friends," I said. I had to get her off her guard.
"New friends," she replied, and we both sipped. It indeed was a fine wine.
The waiter bowed and left after a second approving nod from me. He had waited to be sure Avalon didn't find it disagreeable. So formal. Then I returned my attention to Avalon.
"You were saying something about not being honest?"
She was curious. Good.
"Of course. I was indeed out for a stroll to satisfy my morbid curiosity last night, as I indicated. However, I led you to believe that I didn't believe in such monsters as that the police claim did these murders. As I just assumed you would find such things preposterous. The truth is, I do, actually, believe in them. I feel I can tell you this, dear Avalon, because I now know that you believe as well. As you likely are well aware, one must take care when voicing such beliefs in our society. I imagine it will be a relief to share my thoughts out loud, if you'll indulge me." I added a little nervous laugh at the end for effect. It worked.
"Of course," she said. The tension in her shoulders melted away with a sigh, and she was at once more comfortable with me. "Why do you believe?"
"Well," here's where the pity begins "I'm an orphan because of a"--I lowered my voice considerably here, mostly for effect--"vampire. My father, you see." It's true enough.
Her eyes widened in horror, but she quickly composed herself, as all fine women of this society are experts at doing, and took another sip of her wine. A rather large sip. More of a gulp, really.
"How do you know that was the cause of death?" She patted her top lip with a napkin ever so delicately and then looked at me earnestly, waiting for my answer. Her mouth formed that perfect, adorable "o," and I almost forgot what I was saying.
"I was there. I witnessed it." Again. Truth. At least partial truth. "Of course no one believed me, as I was much younger than I am now. The doctors said consumption, for there was so much blood, and father had been coughing of late. What other explanation was there?"
"Oh dear!" she said, "And your mother?"
"Oh, nothing as exciting as all that. She died in childbirth. Commonplace, really."
"Me, too," she said. This time she leaned forward towards me a little in commiseration. I could see the compassion in her eyes. Two down.
This was going to be easier than I thought.
"To top it all off, I have a rare disorder, you see. Rather embarrassing actually. It is why I wear gloves all the time." I held up my hands awkwardly, displaying my feigned shame only but briefly on my face "I won't bore you with clinical details, but it's called Cutaneous Porphyria, an affliction of the skin. It's what makes me so pale, you see. The sun can burn me bright red in a matter of minutes, like one who had fallen asleep in it for hours. Blister sometimes, too.
Ironically"--nervous laugh--"it's known as the vampire disease. I was teased mercilessly as a child. Children can be quite ruthless and cruel."
Avalon looked quite sad at my piteous tale, but she believed.
If there's anything I know, it's women.
"Not polite dinner conversation, that. On to more pleasant conversation. Now. We are friends, aren't we?" I said. "You know my darkest, most embarrassing secret. You're like the big sister I never had." Well, not for centuries, anyway.
"We are friends, dear Arthur." She reached across the table and laid her gloved hand upon mine. "Thank you for your openness! It's quite refreshing, actually. Something real instead of all the polite stuffiness. Poor, dear Arthur. So we have more in common: Arthurian-legend obsessed fathers and both orphans, as well."
"You, too?" I asked incredulously, although I already knew the full story from Emily. Ahh Emily. I adjusted my trousers and returned my attention to Avalon, my beloved. After all, sex wasn't everything. Right? At least I can tell myself that for tonight. I have been cursed with the body (and therefore sexual appetite) of a teenage boy forever. It can't be helped.
"Yes. My mother died in childbirth like yours. My father died several years back as well."
"I'm so sorry," I said, putting a grave expression on my face.
"No. It's fine," she said with a wave of her hand. "It's been a long time. I'm used to being alone now."
"And you never married?"
"Never did." She sipped her wine.
I stayed quiet for a moment, knowing the question would ask itself, as it was so uncommon for a woman, especially a woman of good birth, to remain unmarried. She likely has had this conversation often, having to explain why she was different. I'm certainly not one to judge, and I'm certainly not going to press her for an answer.
"My choice," she said finally. "Never much interested in romance. Now I'm too old for such nonsense." She laughed and drank the last of her wine. She must be getting her courage up for something. Perhaps her instructions were to feign seduction. Perhaps that's how she would get the locket-contraption out from under her bodice. Then, just when I'd get to her corset, she'd jump up ashamed with herself. It could work. I refilled her glass with wine.
"I rent rooms for a living in a modest house in Baker Street," she continued. "Mostly business clientele. It's how I met Victor. He's an inventor, reminded me of my father. He invented strange contraptions as well."
"Contraptions?" I queried.
"Yes. Bizarre mechanical... experiments, for lack of a better word. Victor tinkers with all sorts of things. Steam-powered. Clockwork. Science and alchemy, too, sometimes. I don't understand most of it, but I am greatly fascinated by it."
"How interesting," I said, taking another sip of my wine. "I should like to see one someday."
Especially if that would get me inside her house.
She reached inside her collar and pulled out the locket. I can't believe I led her right into the opening she needed, like a novice schoolboy! She was going to test me right here in the restaurant! I hadn't convinced her yet!
Don't open it! Don't open it! I thought fiercely, keeping my face completely relaxed. Not even a twinge of anxiety was betrayed upon my features. Three centuries of practice. My full power behind this thought, attempting to compel her, but it had no effect whatsoever on this remarkable woman, which, of course, made me even more enthralled with her.
This enchantment might just be the end of me.
Still, she didn't open it, but rather got up and walked over to me, winding it as she did so.
She was saying something about a family heirloom, trying to pass it off as one of her father's inventions, as bizarre as the appearance of it was, but all my attention was on that locket. Perhaps it wouldn't work! Victor had said it hadn't been tested. I did have a reflection, after all, and this restaurant was rather dark. Still. I couldn't take the chance. Break it! That's what I must do!
Break it. If I couldn't compel her, at least I could use my will to alter matter, albeit minimally.
But in this case, it could work.
With all my supernatural mind power, I focused it all on that watch-sized gadget. Knowing there was a mirror inside, that would be the easiest thing to break, I pictured it cracked. Not just cracked, shattered in a million pieces.
All the while, my expression remained the same: calm and composed, looking at her with polite interest as she came around to me, bent over my shoulder, and opened the locket in front of my face, so that she could see my reflection in it. I led her right into this position, stupid boy!
Tiny shards of glass fell upon my lap and she gasped.
"Oh no!" she cried straightening up. "It's broken. And look at what I've done! You've got glass all over you." She started brushing the pieces of fine glass off my coat and trousers.
"That's not necessary," I said quickly, stopping her hands. Certain things began to grow, and I couldn't offend this dear lady like that.
She went back to her seat and plopped down, defeated.
"I'm so sorry, Avalon," I said, relieved, and continued to brush the broken glass from my trousers. "Was it terribly valuable?"
"Just to me," she said. She took another large swig of wine and then the waiter appeared with our supper. He carried a large tray balanced on his right arm which held succulent dishes. Beef Wellington for me, extra rare, and eggplant, roasted in a rosemary sauce for her. His left arm held a white napkin draped over the wrist and held tight against his waist. It reminded me of Cecil.
"Is everything all right, m'lord?" he asked, noticing Avalon's sadness. Her cheeks were becoming rather rosy with all the wine, and her eyes sparkled with tears. She was certainly loosening up to show even such a hint of emotion in public. A soft, chewy center lay beneath her hard candy shell, and I might just get a taste after all.
"Everything is fine, my good man," I said, dismissing him with a condescending wave. He placed our meals before us quickly, then turned to leave. I stopped him with a hand on his towel arm. "Please bring the dessert cart around when we're finished supping. I think my lady friend could use a nice piece of lemon cake tonight."
"Very good, m'lord."
"And more wine," I added.
"Right away, m'lord." With a click of his heels, he left us.
We ate in near silence, only making random polite conversation about the weather and other such irrelevant pleasantries. I allowed her to marinate in her emotions, hopefully building trust between us. By the end of dinner, we had finished off the bottle of wine and started on the second. I ordered some dessert sherry with a slice of lemon cake for us both. The waiter poured the sherry in tiny glasses, and Avalon drank it down in one completely unladylike gulp. I followed suit. She placed her glass down hard, determinately asking for more. I obliged. We shared the cake off the same plate that sat between us. A sign of intimacy. At the very least, trust and friendship.
After dinner, she took my arm and we made our way out into the London night. She faltered slightly as she stepped onto the street. The wine had made her woozy. Pausing to allow her to catch her balance, I pulled out my pocket watch. Thankful to see I didn't accidentally break its crystal, I noticed it was just after 9 o'clock.
"May I walk you home, Miss Avalon?" I asked. "As you said, it is a lovely night."
"I would be delighted, Arthur. It will help level my head after all that wine."
"Give me a moment, and I'll tell my man to meet me on Baker Street."
I went down half a block to where Thomas waited for me and told him to just go home. I'd walk. From the carriage, I took out my vampire journal and the research I had done over the years and tucked it under my arm, holding it close to my body.
Rejoining Avalon, she took my free arm once again, and we started a slow amble towards Baker Street. After a few blocks, talking about nothing in particular, I turned the subject again to vampires.
"There was another one last night, the papers say."
She knew what I was talking about immediately. "There was. There seems to be a pattern.
Three victims in three days, all with serious neck wounds."
"Horrific," I said, in a rather convincingly horrified tone.
"Indeed. Do you really think it's a vampire?" She sounded as if she didn't want to believe it herself, but she somehow knew better.
"The police certainly don't believe it, and the press is having considerably too much fun with the imagery. Still, I do think it is a vampire. Or at the very least, someone who fancies himself as one."
Her grip on my arm tightened involuntarily. I smiled to myself.
"Do you think it will strike again tonight?" she asked.
"If it continues the pattern, it will. I don't think this one is finished yet."
"Victor and I are going to patrol the streets tonight and see what we can find," she said, sounding not at all convinced this was the smart thing to do. Training is one thing, but to be face to face with a monster. I'm certain she was not ready for that.
"My, that sounds quite dangerous!"
"Quite," she said, looking down at our feet as they hit the dirty stones.
"Mind if I tag along?"
She looked at me suspiciously. "Why would you want to come along?"
"Nothing nefarious, I assure you. You and Victor will be hunting vampires, and I would like to come along. I have wanted to hunt them since my father was killed." Admitted. That was a lie.
"I just truly don't know how. I've done all the research. In fact, I've brought much of it with me here." I took the tome out from under my arm and showed her. "Perhaps we can go through it with Victor. You said he rents a room from you?"
"He does, but I'm not so sure--"
"You can ask him before I come up," I interrupted. "I certainly do not want to be in the way, Avalon. I just thought you two could use an extra pair of hands, especially with my knowledge on the lore. We do want to catch this monster, and I think we could all learn from each other."
She seemed satisfied for the moment.
It took us well over an hour to reach Baker Street, as we walked quite slowly. I had a truly wonderful time talking and laughing with this fine lady, who had regained many of her wits on the long walk home. Good to know she can loosen up every now and again.
Upon arrival at her home, I paused only momentarily, as if being polite and respectful, the real reason was that a vampire couldn't enter a private residence without an express invitation.
but Avalon warmly invited me into her parlor, thankfully, as me having to ask for an invitation could be awkward, especially if Victor was suspicious of me already. She asked that I wait there while she asked Victor if I could join them in their outing. As I waited, I paced about the room taking in all its lovely details. The tall walls were of a pale blue accented with gold along the raised paneling. Two skirted and cushioned chairs covered in a matching blue tapestry were situated around a small, round table near the curtained window. The large, square rug, lighter in color with burgundy and blue flowers, stretched across the parlor leaving only a short length of hardwood floor showing around its entirety. Rather like it was in a dark wooden frame. A buffet in rich, dark wood filled a nook on one end, but the main focal point was the sitting area. A lovely sofa and matching comfy chair, both covered in the blue tapestry, flanked a taupe-colored table. Flowers of blue and burgundy had been hand painted in the center. It was a handsome room that spoke to the fine taste of the owner.
Before long, Victor came down alone, large crucifix around his neck and another in his hand.
Upon seeing me, he tossed it to me, and I caught it. He had expected it to burn me if I was a vampire, but it didn't. It seemed to satisfy him, and I wasn't going to offer the fallacy of that particular myth, especially for those who had ceased believing in such superstitious nonsense years ago. Might work on a novitiate who firmly believes he's damned or an abomination of
"God," but for me it's all balderdash. We shook hands and he invited me upstairs.
"Avalon tells me you wish to become a hunter," he said as we ascended the stairs. Direct, he.
"Indeed. Personal reasons." I said no more. No doubt more details would be required soon enough. Had to keep an air of mystery after all.
He grunted in reply. He showed me into his study which was much more somber in tone than the cheery parlor had been. It actually reminded me of my own library, albeit much smaller.
Virtually everything was done in dark woods. The paneled walls, the floor, the bookshelves that lined the walls of the small room and extended up to the high ceiling. Even the ceiling had dark wooden beams running across the white plaster. The only point of natural light came from the street-facing window. The very same through which I had listened to their conversation the other night. Faint light from the street lamps filtered in and mingled with the candles burning on the single, round table positioned in the center of the room, surrounded by chairs padded and skirted in white. Several of his gadgets lay about the dark walnut desk situated at the far end of the room opposite the main bookcase. The bookshelves themselves were filled with books, statues, and more gadgets. Avalon wasn't there, so it was just Victor, me, and his bizarre contraptions. He explained each in kind.
He picked up the first from his desk. It was a large copper piece that strapped to one's forearm and had dials and vials protruding from it. The vials were full of holy water, he explained, which could be shot up to ten feet with a proper flick of the wrist, activating the trigger. The trigger mechanism was activated via a cord attached to a metal ring worn around one's finger. When the hand was limp, nothing; however, when one made a sharp downward wrist flick, it pulled the cord, activating the trigger. The holy water was pressurized, so it would squirt quite far. Again, holy water does nothing to us, but there you are.
Next to this was a type of gun, also copper along with some brass accents, which propelled small, wooden stakes, rather like fat, long darts or bullets. "I call this one 'The Slayer'," Victor said and handed it to me so that I might examine it more closely. It had a good weight, felt heavy in one's hand, and it had a revolver mechanism. When one pulled the trigger, the chamber would revolve, enabling more shots before reloading. It was quite similar to the Colt, but quite a bit larger in length and breadth. "Quiet, too," he explained, "as it also works with compressed air rather than gunpowder. The hollowing out of the bullets here"--he showed me the hollow inside of one of the wooden darts--"enables the air to fill the projectile and propel it into the target."
This could prove to be quite effective in their quest. He demonstrated by aiming and shooting the thing at a straw-stuffed dummy with a target painted over its heart area leaning in the corner. He missed. "Shoots up to twenty feet, although the accuracy of the shot is wanting, especially the further one gets from the target. Room for improvement there, but a good start," he added.
Indeed it was! Along with this gun, he showed me a holster that held not only the gun but extra wooden bullets as well. This was designed to hang from a belt and was secured below by being strapped around one's leg. He had even fashioned a leather gauntlet, to be worn around one's forearm, that held even more of these wooden bullets.
Third was a regular crossbow, which would be my choice in going up against a rabid vampire from a distance. Much more accurate, but very slow to load. With vampire speed, which they may or may not know about, it could prove fatal if one missed the first shot. Victor explained how he was working on a small crossbow device that would attach to one's forearm, similar to the holy water apparatus. Still, reloading was always the hindrance with a crossbow. Had to meet your mark the first time.
Lastly were regular stakes, mallets, and crosses, all made out of wood. He had put together kits on twine to keep them all together. This way they could also hang from one's belt. He tied them on with a slip knot for quick access.
After the tour of Victor's inventions, in which I remained at least outwardly interested, I showed him my collection of clippings and notes from my studies. He was quite impressed and asked if he could keep it awhile to study it more thoroughly.
"Perhaps we can study up on it together," I suggested, not wanting to part with it. "This, as I said, is very personal for me, and I do not wish anything to be misplaced. It has been my life's work."
"Of course," he said in understanding.
Just then Avalon came in looking like a young boy again. She was a vision, even in dirty dungarees. Perhaps, especially in dirty dungarees.
"Is it set?" she asked.
"It is. Arthur may join us," Victor responded. "He passed my test." He clapped me hard on the shoulder to confirm his approval.
Avalon blushed slightly, smiled, and bowed her head momentarily before looking back up at me. Her expression was altogether delightful. A mixture of embarrassment and good humor. She explained, "Victor didn't believe me when I told him about the locket and your condition. I hope you don't mind. I know you told me in confidence, but it was essential for Victor to trust you.
After all, it was suspect you showing up at the crime scene and then changing our meeting time to after sunset."
"You thought..." I said to Victor and then laughed. "You thought I was a vampire? Is that why you tossed me a crucifix?" I laughed some more.
Victor and Avalon laughed with me.
Past the rough spot. They won't test me again.
"Victor's been showing me some of his inventions," I said to Avalon.
"He is quite the genius," she said, looking up with pride at Victor.
"Just tinkerings, really," he said. I think he even blushed.
"Indeed. Quite impressive, I must say. Is that what was on your ear on the airship? One of Victor's inventions?" I inquired.
"Yes," she said, and then walked over to the bookcase and picked up the small device to show me. It had two pieces, something I didn't notice before. The part that she wore over her ear, which I recognized, and a smaller cylinder connected to the earpiece by some sort of wire or thin tubing.
"It's for communicating," she said. "At the gala, I was listening for any sort of talk regarding the previous night's party and the murder there and then relaying it back to Victor through this."
She indicated the small cylinder. "It was just inside my sleeve near the wrist, and this," she took the thin tube between her thumb and forefinger, "went up my sleeve and attached to the earpiece here, through which I could listen to Victor talk to me. He was down in the park, near The Serpentine."
"Remarkable!" I said, truly impressed.
"Not terribly," Victor said humbly. "It uses the wireless telegraphy technology which has been around for quite some time, with moderate modifications, of course."
"He's just modest," Avalon said, placing a hand on Victor's shoulder. Now I definitely saw him blush.
"It's nearly eleven o'clock," Victor said, checking his watch. "We should gear up and head out."
"Do you have a plan as to where to begin hunting?" I asked.
"Let's go over the facts." Victor pulled out a map of London and laid it on the center table, over a pile of documents, books, and clippings, including those about the "Vampire" killings.
"First one. Sometime Friday night. Here," he said, pointing to the Pemberton house in Brompton. "Victim: Lady Charlotte Haldenby."
Haldenby! That's where I had heard that name. She was quite tasty.
"Very compromising position, post-coital, with her neck savagely ripped open."
Thank you. It was quite savage, wasn't it?
"Second one. Late Saturday night. Really, early Sunday morning. I heard they stopped the presses to put it on the front page. Here in Gray's Inn,"--pointing to the place on the map--"the whore at the Gray's Inn brothel. Name not released. Again, compromising and rather sadistic position, from what my source tells me."--I beamed with pride, on the inside--"This time, throat completely ripped out along with various slashes upon her back. Much more violent and ferocious than the previous night. It is possible this is an accident, given the purpose for the
'Chamber of Horrors' as I understand it, but in between two such other murders, I think not.
"Third, last night, here," he said, pointing to Knightbridge, near where I lived. "The home of the third victim, Lord Walter Haldenby, husband to the first victim."
"Some sort of love triangle?" I suggested.
"With a two-bit whore?" Victor replied incredulously.
She cost quite more than two-bits.
"Perhaps the husband frequented that particular brothel?" Avalon offered. "You know, those professionals are willing to do things his wife would likely not be willing to do." She blushed.
How adorable.
"A man of that stature? I think not," he said again. "But there must be some connection. Too much of a coincidence to be of the same family, no? Especially with the similarities in death, in the way they were killed."
"Indeed," I said and then reiterated my former question, "so, where do we start? There is no pattern, my good man. They're on opposite sides of town. Certainly there might be a connection because of the two victims in the same family, but truly, where to start?"
"He's right, Victor. London is a big place! Where do we begin?"
"Let's assume that the second victim was an anomaly or somehow fits in a way we cannot see yet. The other two, of the same family, husband and wife, and killed in the same vicinity.
We'll start there. In Kensington."
His finger pointed directly over my home.
We made a quick stop at my house to drop off my vampire notes and tome. Victor agreed to come for tea to review them in depth tomorrow. Then we all went out to patrol the streets between Kensington and Brompton, ending up at the Brompton Cemetery. We hoped to speak with the caretaker there and gather some more information about the Haldenby murders. Each of us were armed for a potential paranormal battle. Victor had the holy water arm-apparatus strapped to his right forearm, and the hammer and stake set hung from his belt. Avalon's huge overcoat effectively covered The Slayer, which hung from her belt, although I caught a glimpse of where the bottom of it was tied to her leg when she walked, accentuating the shapeliness of it.
I had my first choice, the crossbow tucked under my arm, knowing that the other weapons were virtually worthless unless Avalon was as spectacular a shot as she was a woman. Victor also had instructed each of us to wear a wooden crucifix around our neck for added protection. He had sharpened the bottom arm of each cross into a point, so it served a dual purpose: deterrent and weapon. I'm sure we were quite the sight.
As we entered the cemetery, several crows cawed loudly and took flight away from a decaying animal on which they had been feasting. The sudden flurry of black birds made us all jump. Victor stopped suddenly, silently telling us to stay still with his outstretched arms. He listened for more movement, but there was none. Avalon removed her slayer gun from its holster and held it at the ready. Then I noticed the look on Avalon's face. It was one of complete fear, and not just from being startled.
Victor finally shook off the surprise and forged ahead.
"Are you all right?" I asked, holding Avalon back, concerned.
"Fine," she said, unconvincingly, pulling loose from my grip and walking again. "Just cemeteries at night. Rather creepy. Don't you find?"
Actually, Brompton was a quite a magical place for a cemetery, at least from my perspective, but Avalon didn't seem to share my opinion. Rows and rows of stone crosses and tombstones lined the grounds, most at at least waist, and often shoulder, height. Some even towered overhead, even Victor's head! The night's fog lingered at the base of the headstones, gently swirling as we passed by. Their marble facades glowed in the hazy moonlit night, creating an eerie forest of stone through which we wound, fully alert at every sound that befell our ears.
"Not really. There is nothing to fear from the dead," I replied.
"It's not those that are still dead that concern me," she said. Good point.
"This way," Victor called back in a harsh whisper, chiding us to catch up. He lead the way to a rather ominous crypt. The name "Haldenby" was carved in large letters across the marble front.
Its sides were completely covered with ivy that was long since dead. Interwoven among the brown leaves were cobwebs which sparkled like a silver chain in the moonlight. Looming stone angels stood guard on either side of a heavy, wooden door which, although decrepit in appearance, was still quite sturdy. Huge iron hinges reached out from the edge, cold to the touch.
Victor threw his rather considerable size against the wooden door several times before it gave way. Inside, a stairway led down into darkness.
"You two wait here," Victor said. "If I'm not back in five minutes, get out of here."
No argument from me. It was likely quite filthy down in there, and I liked things rather clean.
The earth can keep its dirt and dust and creepy crawlers. I escaped that fate.
Avalon and I stood at either side of the door as if we were guards, giving the angels a rest.
Avalon's expression had not changed. Her eyes were still wide and she continuously scanned the grounds for the slightest hint of movement.
"Why do you do this if it frightens you so?" I asked her, still concerned. She truly looked terrified.
"If we didn't, who would? I mean. People are dying, Arthur, and it's not going to stop on its own." She paused. Her eyes narrowed and jaw clenched, fear turning to anger and determination.
She turned to me and the fire in her eyes instantly warmed me up. "The police don't believe it's truly a vampire, but you and I know better. Victor knows better. The police wouldn't know what to do if they came up against a vampire."
"Do you... know what to do?" I kept the conversation going. At least talking kept her fear at bay.
"Victor has trained me," she said with pride.
"And has Victor come face-to-face with a vampire?"
"He has. He's slayed a few as well."
This was a surprise. Most hunters I'd met through the years were working on theory and myth at best. If it were true, why was he still playing with crosses and holy water?
"Really?" I asked, "Where did he slay these vampires?"
"On the continent. Eastern end."
"Romania?" I asked, completely expecting the answer to be yes.
"Yes."
Surprise. Surprise.
I bet my last drop of blood that Victor has never even seen a real vampire. Several hundred years of experience has taught me that there were other vampires, of course, but not many. We tended to be a solitary lot and rather careful when it comes to feeding and extremely selective when it comes to turning. Otherwise, there would be more real vampire hunters exterminating us.
The rustling leaves behind a nearby tombstone startled Avalon. Fear crept back into her features, so I continued the conversation.
"Was he alone?" I asked.
She looked back at me with a shake of her head, as if she was shaking off an unpleasant thought. Her imagination had to be getting the best of her. Shadows can morph into rather horrifying monsters in a fearful mind.
"No. He was studying under a vampire hunter there by the name of Stanescu. Adrian Stanescu. He's supposed to be the best. Had several students, but Victor doesn't talk about it much. It seems they all witnessed some pretty horrible things. The only one he ever mentions is a Dutchman named Abe. They were fast friends, but Victor felt he could never measure up. He said that Abe was a natural slayer. It was in his blood."
"How long ago was this?"
She bit her lip, and her eyes rolled to the side, thinking. "Twenty years ago? Victor, like you, lost someone to a vampire, and he's sworn revenge. He has studied them extensively and has made it his life's work to kill as many as possible." She spoke with great admiration, her eyes twinkling with it.
"You love him," I said. A twinge of grief pierced my dead heart, and I felt a kind of nausea.
"Like a big brother, but I do greatly admire him."
My sickness subsided, and a warm feeling spread throughout when she looked at me. There perhaps was something there after all. I had definitely broken through the outer shell. Her face was so lovely in the faint moonlight. I began to reach out to her, for she didn't take her eyes off of me either. It was most certainly a moment.
Victor came back out of the door just as I was to make my move.
Nice timing, Victor.
"Come with me," he said abruptly, plainly seeing he had interrupted something, and he was none too happy about it. "It's just as I thought."
"What is?" Avalon asked.
"What about the caretaker," I asked. "Shouldn't we speak to him?"
"We may not need to," he said and then turned back into the crypt. "Follow me." He was now carrying a torch and leading us down the decrepit stone steps. The dank air held an odor unique to the dead, and even being one of them, I could hardly bear it. Avalon covered her nose with one arm and held The Vampire Slayer gun with the other. She walked behind Victor and I behind her.
After twenty or so steps, we all emerged in a room much larger underground than the footprint of the crypt on street level. Victor placed the torch into an angled hole in the dirt wall.
Long, deep, rectangle cubbies dug into the earthen walls extended from one end of the crypt to the other, stacked three high. Rounded ends of logs were visible between them, extra support for the decayed corpses that lay in each cubby, most of them now only skeletons. Their former clothes hung off the bones in rags, but some bodies still had a moderate amount of flesh left, on which rats were feasting. Death isn't pretty.
Avalon looked away, turning by accident into me. I put my arm around her instinctively and held her for a brief moment before she pulled away, embarrassed. She had obviously never been in this situation before. Probably had never seen a corpse before, and certainly not in this state of decomposition. The constant moisture of London made for a quick, but messy, decay. The smell of death and mud filled the vault, and I wanted to get Avalon out of this wretched place as soon as possible.
Two marble tombs sat in the center of the room on a dry mortar stone floor. Each stood a good four feet high. One's lid was still sealed over the tomb; the other's lid was broken. Cracked diagonally across the center, half of it lay shattered along the side of the tomb.
"There," Victor said, pointing to broken lid. "It's just as I thought," he said, then added, "or rather, feared."
"What is?" I asked. Avalon still was covering her nose, eyes wide at the horrid surroundings.
She would have trouble sleeping after this.
I could certainly help her pass the time.
"This is the tomb of Charlotte Haldenby, the first victim," he said, pointing to the name etched on the side of the tomb. "She's risen."
"But that's impossible!" I said incredulously. How could she have risen? I killed her! Not unless she drank from me would she have turned. She didn't drink from me, did she? I racked my brain to remember the details of that night. I did have a lot of wine, and I was rather fuzzy on the details, between the drink and the passionate encounter, but she couldn't have. I mean. There would've been signs. Surely I would've remembered something.
"Why is that impossible, Arthur?" Victor regarded me with some impatience. "You know about vampires. You know how they can make more abominations such as themselves."
As if on cue, the second tomb's lid began to rattle. Avalon jumped back into my arms and I gladly held her there. Victor released the slipknot and took the hammer and stake from his belt, glancing back at me and Avalon. Brow furrowed, he shouted, "Avalon!"
Avalon shook her head, waking herself up from a bad dream and pushed away from me straight into a fighting stance, gun at the ready. She had been training, and it showed in her stance. I followed suit, crossbow raised, totally intrigued at what was going to come out of that tomb.
The rattling suddenly stopped and all was quiet for a moment. Then a sound broke the silence, louder than the thunder of a fierce storm. The marble lid cracked into several pieces.
Small parts of it fell over the sides and a human hand from within the tomb pushed the largest piece of heavy stone aside with little effort.
We all held our ground. The Vampire Slayer gun trembled in Avalon's hand. Victor's hand was as steady as my stone one. He had no fear. Perhaps he had done this before.
A man that appeared to be in his mid-sixties sat up inside the tomb. He looked around nonplussed. His chalky skin, even whiter than the marble tomb, glimmered in the flickering torchlight. I pulled up my sleeve to look at my skin, and it didn't shimmer like that. Maybe there was something to those bizarre myths. What was this thing? Could there be different species or
"races" of vampires? The man looked over at us, rather dumbfounded.
"I say," he said. "What's all this?" A man of fine breeding. Condescending even after death.
"Lord Haldenby?" Victor said.
"Yes? What is all this about?" he demanded with comfortable authority. "Answer me, young man."
"Forgive us, sir," Victor said, "but you're dead, sir." The creature's commanding tone gave him pause causing him to habitually fall back into his social role.
"I am not dead. I'll have you know!" he said, slapping the side of his tomb, as if to say
'That's final!' "If I were dead, how could I be talking to you. Dead. I say, man. What opiate have you been enjoying?" he said, laughing to himself and dusting the marble dust and dirt off his sleeves.
"Sir," Victor continued. I was amazed at how polite he was being to this man. "Look around you. We are in your crypt, sir."
Lord Haldenby looked around, amused. "Well! So we are! Funny, that." Amusement. Strange reaction to discovering one has died. "Call for my man, would you? I feel rather peckish."
At this Victor was at a complete loss, he turned to Avalon and me only for a second, but that was enough. Lord Haldenby, even with his considerable middle and advanced age, launched out of his tomb with the speed and grace of a leaping deer and landed on Victor. Avalon reacted without hesitation, instinct and training taking over, and shot three consecutive wooden bullets into Lord Haldenby's side, distracting him enough for Victor to throw Haldenby off and get back to his feet. With a flick of his wrist, holy water sprouted from Victor's arm sheath and drenched Lord Haldenby. To my great surprise, it burned him! Haldenby howled and the crypt quickly filled with the smell of burning flesh, masking the less horrible smell of decaying flesh that had so recently permeated every molecule in the air. Victor covered his mouth and suppressed a retch, holding his weapon at the ready.
Avalon shot her last wooden bullet into Lord Haldenby's chest, but missed the heart. Her gun only held four bullets, so she now had to reload. He was on her almost too fast for even me to see. What was this thing! Certainly no ordinary vampire. I pulled him off of her with fair ease before he could get a bite, throwing him onto his back. Avalon's face froze in shock while her brain tried to catch up to the actions happening faster than she could process them. I straddled him and pinned his flailing arms to the ground with my knees. A horrible sound escaped his throat, something between a shriek and a growl, and I saw his fangs. They were much, much larger than mine when descended. In fact, the canines weren't the only things that descended. It seemed his entire mouth and nose protruded some, rather like a snout. Even his brow had bulged.
All his teeth were pointed and, I assumed, razor sharp. Not particularly wanting to test that theory, I pointed the crossbow directly at his heart and shot. He stopped moving in mid-flail as if paralyzed, but he didn't dust.
He should've dusted.
"His head," Victor shouted. He helped Avalon to her feet and took a protective stance in front of her.
"Did anyone bring a hatchet?" I asked, still sitting on the paralyzed vampire-beast.
"I knew there was something I forgot," Victor said, rubbing his neck.
I got off of Lord Haldenby, who remained paralyzed on the floor of the tomb and went over to the broken tomb lids.
"Why isn't he dust?" Avalon asked. "You said they turn to dust when staked through the heart."
"They normally do," Victor said. "This must be no ordinary vampire. Perhaps even decapitation won't kill him."
"Let's find out," I said, coming back with a rather sharp piece of marble conveniently a little wider than the old man's neck. Placing the marble directly onto his throat, I forced all my weight down upon it, thrusting it into the stone floor beneath him. With a rather large spurt of blood that covered my arms and face and the earthen wall behind him, I severed his head from his body. In an instant, his body exploded into dust.
"Guess decapitation works," I said, brushing the remains of Lord Haldenby off my trousers.
"That was amazing!" Avalon said. All fear had gone from her, and she stood before me excited and amazed. She was a hunter after all.
"Indeed," Victor said. "What was that?"
"It is unlike any vampire I've ever seen," I said.
"Yes. Me neither," Victor said.
"Do you think the wife and whore are like this thing now?" I asked.
"It's highly likely," Victor said. "Our work is not yet done tonight."
Victor snuffed out the torch and began to ascend the staircase. The only light came from the moon, filtering down the stairs. Everything else was pitch black. I could see, but it was doubtful that Avalon could see much. She reached out to me and laid a hand on my chest and moved in very close.
"Thank you," she whispered. "I owe you my life."
With that, she turned and sprinted up the stairs like a young child full of life.
I followed her up into the moonlight; love filled my heart and I felt quite alive myself.
Truly alive.
We walked briskly through the graveyard. The overgrown grass and ferns between the headstones slapped against my shins with a whoosh as we hurried forth. Avalon kept looking back, as if to ensure nothing was following us, but she was energized. I could see it in her eyes and feel it wafting off her in waves.
No one spoke until we were on the other side of the arched cemetery gate and quite a ways down Finborough Road. Then Victor broke the silence just before we turned onto the well-lit Brompton Road. "If those things are so hard to kill, there could be some serious damage being done. I don't doubt there will be another murder tonight," Victor said, as he slowed down to a more relaxed amble so that he might speak softly and walk in line with me and Avalon. After all, there were people about who couldn't overhear talk about vampires and the dead rising from their tombs. His abrupt change of speed caused Avalon and I to collide.
"He did seem quite hungry," I offered and nodded an apology to Avalon.
She smiled.
Victor grimaced and snapped, "Put those things away," referring to our weapons. She holstered her gun and covered it with her coat. I followed suit by tucking the crossbow under my arm, beneath my own overcoat.
"If there are two of them out there now, perhaps both will kill tonight. I just can't get over it.
What was that thing?" Avalon whispered as we passed a group of finely dressed people. They regarded us as the ruffians we appeared to be. The men held their women closer and stared as us.
I remembered I was covered in blood. Not good. I took out my handkerchief and wiped my face down with it. At least my coat was black, so the blood didn't show up there. Likely just a few drops left on my white collar. I turned up the coat collar to hide the crimson stains.
"I've never seen anything like it. My theory is that it's a hybrid of some kind. An abomination of nature," Victor answered.
Avalon rubbed her arms as if she was cold. The air did have an uncommon chill in it, but it was more like the chill of disbelief and horror that bit into Avalon's bones. The body's reaction in response to something too ghastly to comprehend. It made even me shudder.
I have seen many a strange thing in my existence, but something about what Victor said rang true. It was unnatural. Whereas vampires and werewolves were more of the supernatural variety of creature, a different species, as it were, this was definitely unnatural. Hybrid, like that of lycan and vampire and perhaps even something else. The way its snout and brow protruded.
Abomination was a good word. There was only one species that would create such a creature just because they could.
This was the work of man.
My guess--a very disturbed man.
"Arthur," Victor said, interrupting my thoughts, "might we return to yours this evening to do a bit of homework?"
"Certainly," I said. More time with Avalon? Who was I to object?
"We've got to know more about it, if that's even possible. London is too big to be everywhere at once, and we must have at least an idea where to begin. Let's return to the crypt just before dawn in the event that the wife, Charlotte, returns."
"Wouldn't it be better to return after dawn," Avalon said, "when it will be asleep?"
"Not a bad plan, Avalon. After dawn it is."
That posed a problem for me.
We arrived at my home within twenty minutes, as the Brompton cemetery wasn't all that far away. We had mostly taken the smaller roads after the attention we drew to ourselves on Brompton Road, even if it took a little longer. I called out for Cecil as soon as we stepped inside the foyer, but there was no answer.
"Maybe he's asleep," Avalon offered.
"He sleeps when I tell him to sleep--CECIL," I shouted again.
I hung up my own jacket and then took Avalon's and hung it on the coat rack by the door as well. She turned the lock, wanting to feel some kind of safety.
"Nice place," he said, hanging up his own jacket. He then stood in the center of the foyer with his hands on his hips and looked around the room with some amazement.
"Thanks----CECIL!"
He was embarrassing me in front of my guests. That will not do.
"I don't think he's here, Arthur," Avalon said gently, concerned with my agitation. She laid a calming hand on my arm and looked up at me with those sweet eyes. I almost forgot myself right there in the foyer. "I can make the tea if you will just show me where the kitchen is."
"This isn't like him," I said, waking myself up from Avalon's spell. "I'll check his room. The kitchen is through there," I said, pointing through the drawing room. "Just down at the end of that hallway.
"Great," she left to the kitchen. I watched her go. Bustle or no bustle, she was a fine looking woman. I turned to Victor who hadn't moved from the center of the foyer. Hands still on hips, he was staring up at the dark crown molding and golden gilded ceiling.
"Really nice place," he repeated.
I had grown accustomed to a certain level of finery, unlike that which Victor has probably ever seen. Money, after all, meant little to me. It was easy to obtain, especially for one like me, and even easier to spend.
"Victor, would you mind waiting in here while I look for my insolent man?" I gestured through an archway into the parlor.
"Sure," he said with an uncertain tone. I watched as he walked into the room, and he looked around, stepping gingerly as if he might inadvertently break something if he moved too quickly.
"Have a seat," I offered, "I'll be back shortly." He sat down on the very edge of the embroidered French sofa, looking completely out of place in his dirty dungarees, hat in hand.
I left him there and ascended the staircase to the second floor. I pounded on Cecil's door, but there was no answer. Thomas poked his head out if his room, hair sticking straight up and groggy from sleep.
"Everything all right, m'lord?" Thomas asked. "Did you need a ride?"
"No, Thomas, go back to sleep. Wait," I said as he started to close the door.
"Yes, m'lord?"
"Do you know where Cecil is?"
"No, m'lord. He was here when I returned earlier this evening, m'lord."
"Did you tell him where I was?"
"I did, m'lord. I told him you wouldn't be back until dawn, m'lord. As most nights."
"Of course. Thank you, Thomas. I'll be entertaining some guests for the rest of the night, but we shan't disturb your sleep again. Sweet dreams."
"Thank you, m'lord," he said, bowing his head slightly, and then closed the door.
Cecil out on his own at night? This was really not like him. Of course, I suppose he could've done this often, knowing that I would be away. Perhaps there was a girl. Who was I kidding?
There was always a girl. I brushed it off, but resolved to have a strong discussion with him upon his return. He did work for me after all, and I required his assistance. It really was unacceptable behavior for a butler. Had he not been so loyal and hardworking all these years, I would consider replacing him for this slight. Certainly there had to be a good explanation for this, and I would most certainly find out what it was.
I stopped in my library to ensure nothing that shouldn't be seen would be seen.
On my way back downstairs I heard Victor and Avalon talking amongst themselves, a human set of ears wouldn't be able to hear them in hushed tones, but fortunately I wasn't human. They spoke of the night's events.
"Did you see how fast he moved?" Victor said. So he had noticed.
"You mean saving my life? No. I was rather occupied at that moment," she sounded defensive. Good.
"Of course. He did save your life, but I fear he is not what he seems, Avalon." Victor's tone was gentle, as one telling a child his favorite pet had died.
"Victor! He saved us both from that thing, and you still don't trust him?" She was incredulous, angry. All on my behalf! Perhaps I had gotten to her a little.
"It's not that, my dear, but I--I just fear he is--not what he seems."
"Yes. You said that already." Her tone was so cold that it even sent a chill through my frigid veins.
"Avalon, dear--"
"I am not your dear, Victor." If possible, her tone was even colder than before. "How can you question him? He's been nothing but noble and helpful to us."
"But we hardly know him. All I'm saying is to be careful, dea--Avalon. He obviously has feelings for you."
"Is that what this is about? Jealously?" That previous coldness melted in the heat of renewed anger. This was obviously an old issue between them, and she'd had enough.
"No--you're missing my meaning. I'm trying to protect you."
"I don't need protection. If you remember, it was I who got the monster off of you. I can hold my own as well as you or any man can," she replied proudly.
"Of course you can." He sounded defeated. "Let's not argue, Avalon. It's late. We're both tired. We survived a horrible episode tonight, and it's not over. We must work together, so, please, forget I said anything."
Avalon didn't say another word. I continued down the stairs, making my foot falls a little louder than normal. By the time I reached the parlor, they were on different chairs. Victor, still on the very corner of the sofa looking more incongruous than ever and Avalon on my reading chair near the fireplace. She must've moved, as they were speaking too softly to have been this far apart.
She didn't want me to see her close to Victor! At least, that's what I chose to believe. One can create quite the perfect world for oneself in one's own mind.
The tea kettle whistled from the kitchen, and Avalon excused herself. For several moments neither Victor nor I said anything. The hefty tension hanging in the room made for an uncomfortable pause
"Well?" Victor finally asked, a little cross.
"Hmm?"
"Your man, did you find him?"
Avalon returned carrying a silver platter with the prepared tea. Victor's whole demeanor changed from annoyed to humble in an instant.
"Oh, that. No, I didn't. It seems he went out. This is terribly embarrassing, and I apologize most ardently. A lady should not have to make her own tea," I said with a proper bow to Avalon.
"Please. I make tea for myself and others all the time. I don't stand on such nonsense ceremonies." She looked offended.
"You're quite right, of course. Too many years in this life has made me sound like an elitist.
Let me assure you, I am anything but. Please, join me in my library upstairs."
Avalon started toward the stairs.
"No," I said. "Allow me."
She smiled at me as I took the tea tray from her, doing so a little closer to her than was fitting in mixed company. She blushed.
That's a good sign.
Victor certainly noticed, as his hackles rose once again.
"Follow me, dear guests. We have a long night of research ahead of us."
I led them back up the stairs to my library. Avalon sat down on the very chaise on which her aunt so deliciously took me. The memory of it mixed with Avalon's divine figure there caused me to harden a little. I moved behind the large table, masking my excitement, and set the tea tray down. I poured each a cup of tea and allowed Victor to take Avalon's to her, keeping my lower body well hidden behind the table.
"So let's see this extensive research you boasted about. We've got work to do," Victor growled, then took a gulp of tea.
"Of course," I said, opening the grand tome to its clippings, notes, and scribblings.
"Is this it? You showed me this earlier tonight. I thought there would be more," Victor spat.
"There is, but this is the most focused on vampires."
"We've already decided that this isn't an ordinary vampire, so what good will this do us?" he said, dismissing me with a wave of his hand. He set his teacup down forcibly, sloshing the tea onto its saucer. He crossed his arms like a petulant child and scowled.
"Victor," Avalon said in a warning tone.
"Look," he continued, moving to the very edge of his chair as if he was preparing to pounce on some unsuspecting prey. "Those things are out there right now, probably killing again or, worse, siring others, or both. We can't just sit here and rehash what we already know!"
He was most certainly in a mood.
"True." I spoke with exaggerated calm, hoping he'd take a hint. "But we also decided that London was too vast. We must start with what we know and then follow whatever lead we can find. We know it is vampire- like. It most certainly dusts like one, although a stake through the heart doesn't accomplish this, beheading does: a known way to kill a vampire," I said the last forcibly, pointing at a section of my scribbled notes under the heading Presumed Ways to Slay a Vampire. "Beheading is actually number one."
"Beheading will kill every creature I know of," Victor said captiously.
"Indeed," I responded calmly again, trying to defuse his contention.
Avalon stood up from the chaise and joined us at the table. She laid a hand on his shoulder, and he sighed in exasperation. One touch calmed him. She was pure magic.
"Apologies for my behavior," he said, taking another swig and finishing off his tea. He set the cup down hard, causing the china to spiderweb in fine surface cracks up the sides. I didn't mention his rough use of my tableware; I just gave him a refill, since Cecil apparently had better things to do. He was oblivious to the damage and continued, "I tend to get angry when I'm baffled." He looked up at Avalon apologetically. She nodded and sat down in the chair beside him.
"Now, Arthur, let's go over what we know," she said.
"Beheading is the first presumed way to slay a vampire, who, unlike other creatures that also die from decapitation, turns to dust."
Victor looked down at his tea but didn't say another word.
"The second presumed way is a stake through the heart," I continued, "which should also kill, therefore dust, a vampire, but that didn't work with Lord Haldenby. It wasn't completely ineffectual either. It seemed to physically paralyze him. An important thing to remember, I think.
"Third way is exposure to sunlight, which will apparently cause them to combust. Although I have never witnessed this myself--"
"I have," Victor said without looking up from his tea. "In Romania."
"Really?" My curiosity was indeed piqued. "Do tell."
Victor swallowed hard then downed the rest of his tea. I poured him another cup, and he began, "Abe, Frederick, and I were on the trail of this particular fiend, and we cornered him just before dawn in a valley surrounded by rock. This was all on the continent, in Romania," he added for my benefit, for I had never heard any of Victor's stories before. Judging from Avalon's expression, she hadn't heard this particular story either. Victor's expression, on the other hand, was stern, actually stoic. "The beast tried to scramble away, and normally he would've been able to. Vampires have amazing abilities to jump extremely high and climb even seemingly smooth surfaces, but we had shot him with a strong tranquilizer, something Frederick devised, as he was the chemist among us. A type of opiate that would've killed a man and crippled an elephant, but on this devil, it just slowed him down, almost imperceptibly so. That is, until he tried to escape."
I had underestimated Victor. He had seen some supernatural action after all.
"Why didn't you just stake him?" Avalon gasped, eyes wide.
He looked up at her before responding. His face revealed a mixture of concern and resolve.
He continued, "Research. We were conducting an experiment, trying to discern what was true and what was false. Anyway, the thing was terrified of the impending sunrise, as if it instinctually knew the kind of death that it would bring. I had never seen such terror on anyone's face. One almost felt pity for the creature, hunted as he was."
I could see by the look on Avalon's face that she did pity it. This was a plus.
"He would rush at us in his drugged state, begging to be staked, but he was too weakened to do anything other than submit to our will. Each time he rushed us, we pushed him back against the rock wall, where he would try to scramble up it again to no avail. It did become quite piteous."
A tear fell down Avalon's cheek.
"Just as dawn began to break, the brute let out a horrible cry, unlike anything I had heard before or since. It was as if his soul, had he one, was crying out for mercy. It was the sound of pure horror itself." Victor was quiet for several moments. Perhaps he was unsure how much he should share with us, but Avalon and I waited in silent patience for him to continue. He finally did. His tone was full of regret. "The sun rose. As the light crept across the land toward him, he tried to flatten himself against the stone wall, keeping away from the sunlight as long as possible.
But there was no escape. When the sunlight finally reached his skin, he caught on fire, screamed in discernible agony, burned momentarily for what was only seconds, and then exploded into dust. There was nothing left of him."
No one said anything for a moment. Avalon was looking down at her folded hands in her lap, but I kept my eye on Victor. He stared into the dregs at the bottom of his teacup for another moment before looking over at Avalon, then at me.
"So, yes, sunlight works," he added.
"That's dreadful, Victor, to torture a creature like that," said as she wiped the tears from her face.
"It was a bloodsucking vampire, Avalon!" Victor defended himself and shot her a quizzical look.
"Yes, I know, but to draw it out like that. It's monstrous in itself, Victor!" She had regained full composure, and her sadness quickly transformed into vexation. "What sets us apart from such monsters is our compassion. Why? Why would you do such a thing?"
Victor didn't respond to her but rather looked at me. I remained neutral. I couldn't afford to show sympathy for a vampire, not with his renewed suspicion. I also couldn't side with Victor.
He downed the last few drops of his tea and asked, "Got anything stronger?"
"Whiskey?"
"Perfect."
The whiskey decanter was actually just across the room with some glasses. I poured us each a shot. Victor and I swallowed ours straight off, and I refilled the glasses. This time, Avalon drank hers with us. Feeling a little lighter, we continued. Victor seemed in a better mood almost immediately.
"So. Sunlight works!" I said. "Fire?"
"Same results," Victor answered, adding no details this time.
He finished the third shot along with me. Perhaps I can feign passing out later, avoid having to go out at dawn. I'd rather not give Victor a repeat performance on the effects of sunlight on a vampire.
Victor slammed his fourth drink.
Perhaps he wouldn't make it to dawn himself.
Victor pulled the tome of vampire research towards him, regarded it for a moment, then closed it and pushed it away. "You said there was more than this?"
"Of course," I said, standing up and moving to the far end of the library. "This entire section is devoted to the study of the supernatural."
"Impressive." He picked up my original copy of Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus dated 1818. "Interesting," he said.
"Not sure how much you saw, my good man, but when I was atop of the beast, his face changed. Unlike that which I have ever seen. Tell me, did the vampires you studied in Romania's faces change when they were angry or agitated?"
"Not greatly," he said. "Their canines became longer somehow before feeding or even when attempting to feed. Although the aforementioned vampire didn't show any signs of extended canines during that entire episode. I conclude that it must occur only when they are about to feed or attack."
Not quite, I thought, but I didn't say a word. In fact, vampires have complete control over their fangs, most of the time. Although there are times of increased passion or hunger when they descended before one can stop them.
"This creature's face changed considerably," I said. "Not only did the canines get longer, as you said, but his entire face changed. His nose and mouth seemed to protrude, as did his brow.
His eyes changed as well."
"Changed? How?" Avalon asked curiously.
"His face seemed to change into something almost bestial. I don't know quite how else to put it."
"Werewolf?" Victor asked.
"My thoughts exactly. But the moon wasn't full and werewolves, to my knowledge, don't turn to dust upon decapitation. I don't have much experience with werewolves, however. Do you?"
"Not much. Frederick, my aforementioned colleague from Romania, did have rather an obsession with them, but our internship there focused solely on the vampire. I only know what he told me of them." Victor paused and looked over at Avalon to ensure she was all right. She appeared attentive, but no longer frightened or horrified. Victor sighed, ran his hands over his face, continued, "Infection is spread by a single bite. The werewolf's saliva must but momentarily be mixed with one's blood, and the infection will take. Other than that, they emerge on the full moon. Actually they have three nights a month in that bestial form: the night of the full moon and the day immediately before and after it. They often remember nothing once human again."
"Bestial," Avalon said, and stopped there. She had been quiet a long time, just listening and absorbing all the horror of this world. She was the least experienced and most curious among us.
She sipped her whiskey, but said nothing further.
"Yes, my dear?" Victor said, urging her to continue.
Avalon seemed lost in thought, and it wasn't until several moments later that she finally continued, "You described it as bestial. That's the same word Arthur used to describe Lord Haldenby's eyes: bestial."
"Indeed," Victor said with recognition and turned toward me. "Do you think?"
"It's possible, I suppose, but as I said before, werewolves don't turn to dust."
"Yes, and vampires do with just a stake, but this one didn't. This is not a vampire or a werewolf, but perhaps it's a hybrid of the two?" He shook the copy of Frankenstein in the air.
"An abomination of nature, yes?"
He returned to the table and looked over all the vampire notes, putting Mary Shelley's Frankenstien down on top. "Bring me everything you have on the werewolf," he said.
I wasn't used to taking orders, nor did I like it much. Cecil would certainly pay for this indignity. Yet, I had to play along for the sake of Avalon, so I did as he requested. We all read in relative silence for the next several hours, Victor kept drinking the whiskey until the decanter was empty. I had to go down to the kitchen to get more, which worked well for me. I kept up, as alcohol didn't really affect me, or it did so slightly, just clouds my thoughts and the like, that it might as well not affect me. I didn't let on to that, though, as dawn was quickly approaching.
Hopefully Victor would pass out before that, but I had to chance it. I couldn't afford renewing his suspicion at this juncture. It was summer, after all, it might be one of the few clear days London gets. yet I had to remain careful.
On my way back up to the library with a fresh bottle of whiskey, I ran into Avalon on the stairs.
"Are you all right?" she asked, concerned.
"I'm fine, my dear. Why do you ask?"
"This is all just so insane, Arthur. You shouldn't have to see those things."
"As you saw, I can take care of myself, and I'm not one of those elitist aristocrats, blind to reality. I've seen some true horror in my time," I replied.
"Whatever station! No one should have to see those things!"
"Quite true, my dear. Quite true. Still, not all things are as they should be. That is the way of life."
She looked into my eyes, and I watched her concern turn to understanding. "You have seen your share, haven't you?"
"Like I said." I smiled.
"We have to be off again soon if we're to catch Lady Haldenby," she said, eyeing the fresh bottle of whiskey in my hand.
"I can hold my own," I said.
"I thought I might bring up some coffee and biscuits," she said. "What with the wine earlier and the whiskey now, I think I've had my fill for the next week!"
"Wonderful idea, my dear. You know where the kitchen is. Perhaps some bread, too? Might help soak up the alcohol," I said, moving a little closer to her. She didn't back away.
"This is all so strange, Arthur. But you and Victor seem so comfortable with it all." She placed her hand on my shoulder for a moment and then started fiddling with my lapels. An exceptionally affectionate act, that.
"We've just lived with it longer, is all. It's not fitting to be so comfortable with such ideas, Avalon, especially not for a fine lady such as yourself," I said in hushed tones, moving closer. I stood within an inch of her, and I could hear her heartbeat begin to race, her breath quicken. I had a mind to kiss her, but I refrained. Now that there was interest, perhaps due to her vulnerability, I mustn't chase that interest away by moving too quickly. Instead, I stepped back, bowed, and climbed the rest of the way up to the library where Victor was mumbling to himself and frantically scribbling out notes of his own.
"Arthur! Arthur!"
I awoke to Avalon franticly shaking me.
I guess I really did pass out. So much for holding my own. Had to be the lack of blood over the past few days. It was affecting me.
I looked around at my surroundings, and I was still in the library. Victor was gone. The papers and books were still strewn all over the table on which I had so recently been sleeping.
The last thing I remember was how lovely Avalon looked stretched out on the chaise with a blanket covering her as she read. She must've dozed off, too.
"What is it?" I asked, wiping my eyes. I took my pocket watch out and looked at the time.
Half-past five. We missed sunrise by over thirty minutes.
"It's Victor. He's gone. He must've gone after Lady Haldenby by himself. We've got to go help him!"
"It's already too late, Avalon. It's after dawn. He either has her or he doesn't. He can hold his own," I said, groggily. This was way too early for me. I could think of little else but my bed upstairs.
Cecil walked in the library with some fresh tea.
"Good morning, m'lord. I see that you have-- company," he said with a ribald smile.
Avalon's expression of disgust wiped the smile away quickly enough, however.
"When did you get home?" I demanded. "I was in need of your services last night, Cecil, and you weren't to be found."
Avalon, looking rather uncomfortable at my chiding, moved toward the door.
"I beg your forgiveness, m'lord. It won't happen again."
"Where are you off to?" I barked at Avalon. I had never been a morning person.
"I'm going after Victor even if you don't come with me. I won't leave him out there with that thing alone."
"It's after dawn," I repeated, hoping she would see reason.
"He could be fighting with her in the crypt right now. He might need our help!" She flew from the room and headed downstairs.
"Wait here," I ordered Cecil and followed her downstairs. By the time I got there, she had donned her jacket and was opening the door. Sunlight flooded the foyer, but thankfully didn't come back as far as I was. I stopped cold, thankful that Avalon's back was turned when I did so, as it likely appeared inhuman. Visions of Victor's shrieking vampire filled by mind, and I backed into the entryway of my parlor.
Avalon turned to me and said, "Aren't you coming?"
"I--," I stammered. What could I say that she would believe?
"Oh, yes. Your condition," she said. "Well, wrap up well and let's go."
"I--," I stammered again. It's possible that wrapping up would be enough to keep me from bursting into flames, but it was still a risk. I had never tested it, and it, of course, had to be one of the few sunny days in London. Perhaps a risk I had to take to save face with Avalon. I couldn't imagine losing her from my life, especially just after I had found her!
"Here," she said, bringing my hat and scarf to me.
Perhaps if I wrap my head in my scarf and wear a coat, I thought. I was terrified.
Just then, my salvation appeared in the doorway.
"Victor!" Avalon cried and rushed into his arms. My heart clenched. "Thank God you're alive!" She pulled back from him and then hit him hard on the arm. That's better. "How dare you go out there without us! You could've been killed!"
"Yes, well, I wasn't." He mercifully closed the door behind him.
"Did you see her?" I asked.
"I did not. I waited outside her crypt before dawn, not wanting to be trapped inside with her after the sun rose, but she never showed. I chanced it out of desperation and went down into her crypt after sunrise, but it was empty. Well, just the dead. No undead."
"What a relief!" Avalon said.
"Looks like she may have come back, though. Looking for her husband, I assume," he said.
"The entire place was trashed. Bodies strewn about and the like. Someone was very angry, and I surmise it was her coming to find her husband dusted."
"Where do you think she's off to now?" Avalon asked.
"Not sure. Perhaps home? We can send word to her staff today and inquire, although I'm not sure what we would say. Perhaps she's with her sire," Victor offered.
"Sire?" Avalon inquired.
"The vampire, or whatever it was, that made her like this. Her sire, or possibly the whore. I don't know. All I do know is that nothing will be happening in the daylight, so I'm going to get some sleep. We'll all need to be fresh for this evening's hunt."
"Of course," I said. I would've let out a sigh of relief had I had breath. Victor just handed me a reprieve. "I'll have Thomas take you home. Where do you think we should begin tonight?"
"I have some ideas, but I'm not thinking too clearly at the moment. Drink mixed with no sleep is not a good combination. We'll return late this afternoon and discuss it then," he said definitively.
"Very good," I said, then pulled the thick cord that rang up in Thomas's room.
I looked back at Avalon and Victor. She was genuinely concerned for him. She said she loved him like a brother, but could it be more than that? Perhaps my jealousy was taking over my perception. After all, I've never had to work this hard for a woman before. My curiosity about the creatures was beginning to rival my desire for Avalon.
Thomas trotted downstairs, dressed for work. "Yes, m'lord," he said.
"Please take these fine people to their home: 219 Baker Street," I instructed.
"Very good, m'lord," he said to me. Then he opened the front door, I was sure to remain toward the back of the foyer. "Sir, madam," he said, gesturing them to go outside. The carriage was already there. Thomas was quite a good coachman. Cecil, on the other hand... I had to deal with him presently. Inexcusable behavior, that.
After I heard the carriage clatter off, I turned and went back to Cecil still waiting in the library. He stood perfectly straight, but his head was slightly bowed. He knew what was coming.
"What is the meaning of your behavior, Cecil?" I demanded. "What possible explanation do you have for going off in the middle of the night? Are you unclear for whom you work? Who pays your wage? Feeds you? Do tell, Cecil. What was so very important?"
Cecil didn't move. He didn't look at me. In a rather embarrassed tone, he said, "A woman, m'lord. It was to visit a woman."
I knew it!
"It won't happen again, m'lord. I promise," he pleaded. "It's just that, well, m'lord I'm not all that much to look at, m'lord. And I don't have the money or the titles that you have, m'lord, so the ladies aren't much interested. It makes for a lonely life," he said, and then quickly added,
"Not that life with you isn't wonderful, m'lord. You certainly give me all I could need, m'lord.
Well... except this."
"Cecil, I could have women brought here for you. I've done so before! Why go out."
"Well, m'lord, this isn't just for carnal delights, m'lord. It's for--well, m'lord. It's for love."
Normally I would have thrashed him for even saying such a thing. Love. Until I met Avalon, I had ceased believing in love. It was a thing for the naïve and foolish. Desire was the only truth.
But now I knew love again, so I suppose I could suffer it in my butler if need be.
"Next time, have her come here," I said, letting him off the hook. This woman was making me soft.
"Very good, m'lord."
"Turn down my bed, Cecil. I will be sleeping for quite some time now."
"Yes, m'lord," he said, and then turned to go upstairs to my chamber.
I picked up the afghan under which Avalon had so recently slept and deeply breathed in her scent. Folding it, I placed it back on the foot of the chaise and then ascended to my chamber.
Cecil had already drawn the curtains and turned down the bed. He waited obediently until I removed my gloves and clothes, and taking them, he left the room, closing the door behind him.
I slid into bed and slept soundly.
The next thing I knew, Cecil was waking me up, which never happened. He usually knew better than to arouse me from sleep. Many surprises from Cecil today.
"Forgive me, m'lord," he said, "but you've got guests."
"Avalon and Victor?" I said groggily. "Are they back already?"
"It is after five o'clock, m'lord," Cecil said, pouring a cup of tea on the bedside table.
Nearly twelve hours asleep. I need to feed, I thought. I watched Cecil put ten drops of blood in my tea before stirring it.
"I'll need more than that," I said to him. "Bring me some of the pigs' blood we keep on ice in the cellar. I'll need my strength, and it will have to do for now.
"You do have two humans downstairs, m'lord," Cecil said cheekily.
"That will be all, Cecil," I said, smiling.
"Very good, m'lord. Oh, and you have a letter from Lady Bainbridge as well. It's on the tray."
"Thank you, Cecil."
He left the room and closed the heavy door behind him.
After I drank my tea, which gave me a minor boost, I read the letter from Emily. It read: Charming time at tea. Perhaps another cup?
Emily
She had been quite delicious, but I had to distance myself now that I was getting closer to Avalon. I was beginning to realize that what I had originally felt for her was more of an infatuation, obsession with the unattainable. Shock of the resemblance to Catherine, perhaps. But I truly was falling for her now. It had been so long that I felt anything besides obsession and desire, that I forgot the pure agonizing joy of true love. I decided not to respond to Emily right away. I had to give it some thought and play this just right. Awkward position, this. Her being Avalon's aunt and all.
Cecil returned with the blood, and I drank it quickly, grimacing. Horrible stuff, pigs' blood, but drastic measures and all that. I dressed in the clothes Cecil had laid out for me and went downstairs to meet my guests. They were already in the parlor, enjoying tea of their own.
"Good morning," Avalon said with a smile in her voice. She emphasized the word 'morning'
to comment on my sloth.
"Yes. I guess I slept rather longer than I had expected," I replied. "And you two? Did you sleep well?"
"Surprisingly, I slept quite well. I suppose sheer exhaustion trumps fear in the end. Victor here didn't sleep at all!" Avalon said.
I could've figured as much. The man looked awful. He had dark bags beneath his eyes and he hadn't shaven. He was still in the same clothes as the previous night. Even his hair was disheveled.
"Victor?" I said. The man was staring into the distance, absently tapping his teacup against the saucer. I could almost see the tiny spiderweb cracks forming up the sides of this teacup. Must mark a cup just for Victor in the future lest he ruin the entire set!
"Two more," he growled.
"What?" I asked.
"Two more murders," Avalon explained, her expression losing all of its light.
"And there will be more tonight," Victor spat in anger. "They're multiplying."
"It's not your fault," Avalon said, trying to reassure him She placed a hand on his shoulder, and he looked at it with revulsion. Something was amiss here. Granted, I had only known these people for a few days, but Victor had been nothing but warm to Avalon before. This coldness was new. Yes. Something was going on here. He just ignored her reassuring words and continued.
"We have to stop this," he said directly to me. Man to man, as it were.
Avalon removed her hand from Victor, hurt at his disregard. She, too, felt that something was off with him.
"But how can we? We don't know where they'll strike tonight. Any clues from the last two?"
I asked.
"I'm hoping to find some at the brothel. That's where we're going," Victor said, rising.
"Now?"
"Yes. Before dark. We must get a head start."
"Why the brothel," I asked, nervous about the daylight. This morning had been so sunny, and the light coming in from the parlor window still looked quite bright.
"It's where last night's murders were."
"Whores or johns?" I asked, trying to prolong the conversation. Had to buy some more time.
"Whores. Young ones. Can't be older than thirteen, poor girls."
I thought that this fate was less cruel than the one they had been living. Death isn't by far the worst fate that can befall a person.
"But the cops will be swarming the place," I said, stalling. "How can we investigate with those blokes about?"
"I have a plan," he said.
He proceeded to tell us how he had used every contact he had, while we had slept, and procured three constable uniforms. We would each don a uniform and blend in with the assumed chaos over at the brothel. He also had it on good authority that the girls had been engaged with some very prominent men when the attack had occurred. So there were witnesses. The men were quite distraught and apparently traumatized by the event.
Good.
They were being held for questioning down at Scotland Yard.
"We had better get moving. Dusk is fast approaching," Victor said.
"Is there a place where I could change?" Avalon asked.
"Of course," I said. "Victor, you can change in the library. I'll join you there shortly. Avalon, you can change in the privacy of my chamber."
She smiled and blushed slightly.
"Thank you, Arthur," she said.
"Follow me."
We all went up stairs, and Victor broke away from us on the second story, headed to the library . He shot me a mistrustful glance as Avalon and I continued up to the third floor. I showed Avalon to my chamber. Cecil had already made the bed and pulled back the curtains. I was pleased to see the grey skies outside, and although it wasn't yet dusk, it was getting darker by the moment as more cloud cover moved over the city. I'd be safe venturing out. I looked back at sweet, innocent looking Avalon as I was closing the door on my way out.
The next time she's in my chamber, I thought, there won't be anything innocent about it. An automatic thought to a woman in my bedchamber, but something about the flippancy of it felt vulgar. And not vulgar in a good way. I think more of Avalon than just for a toss and giggle. Still, the thought of bedding her was not distasteful either. Quite the contrary. Making love to Avalon would actually mean something, though. I was rather surprised at myself. Bravo, Arthur. Your heart wasn't completely dead after all.
I rejoined Victor in the library, and he was already dressed as a copper.
"How do I look?" he asked, turning around with his arms held out.
"Very convincing," I replied. Gesturing for him to leave, I continued, "Do you mind?"
"Bashful, are you," he said, amused. "All right then. I'll be waiting downstairs."
I dressed quickly and went downstairs to be with Victor. He looked at me with suspicion for a moment before remembering himself. He smiled, "Suits you," he said cheekily, indicating the copper uniform.. There was definitely something about him I didn't trust. Something had changed. Plus he'd not hidden the fact that he did not trust me either. That coupled with his jealousy over Avalon made things quite tense between us. Still, we'd keep up appearances for her, and to solve this mystery.
Avalon joined us, and she looked perfectly edible in the police uniform. The trousers showed off the shapeliness of her legs, something that full skirts hid altogether. Scandalous, really, if anyone knew she was actually a woman. Although in her thirties, her smooth skin and lack of a beard would betray her disguise. A fine woman like Avalon couldn't easily pass for a man, even a young man.
"Put this on," Victor said, handing her a mustache. "You, too," he said to me. "You both look too young. Got a mirror?" Victor asked me with a gleam in his eye.
"Don't find much use for them," I said calmly. "Vanity and all."
"I see," he said, skeptically.
"Still I could have Cecil dig one up for you."
"No need," he said, then turned to Avalon. "Let me help you with that." Victor went to her and helped glue it into place. He did the same for me. When he finished, he looked me deeply in the eyes. There was definite suspicion there, and I returned it in kind. He adjusted his sleeve and, with a twist of his wrist, squirted me directly in the face with what I can only assume to be holy water. Hadn't we already done this dance?
"Victor!" Avalon exclaimed.
"Sorry old chap," he said, offering me a handkerchief. "Faulty trigger."
"You must tend to that, Victor," I said, not hiding my own annoyance at the display, "One needs to have reliable equipment when dealing with the supernatural."
"Indeed," he said. He never took his eyes off of me.
So. He did suspect me again. No question about that now. I wiped my face dry with the proffered handkerchief and stuffed it into Victor's breast pocket with a little more force than necessary.
"Shall we?" Victor motioned us toward the door. He wanted me ahead of him, so he could keep an eye on me.
"What about weapons?" Avalon asked. "Are we not to be armed?"
"I have everything we'll need here," he said, picking up a black satchel I hadn't noticed before. "It would look rather suspicious to be armed with these weapons while dressed as police.
We'll just keep them with us until we find out what we can from the crime scene. We'll be hunting tonight."
"Thomas!" I called, as we entered the foyer. But he didn't come down the stairs; rather, he opened the front door.
"M'lord. The carriage is ready, m'lord."
"Thank you, Thomas. To Gray's Inn by that brothel. You know the one? In the papers and such," I said, making it clear he wasn't to let on that he'd been there before.
"I think I know where it is, m'lord," he replied. He didn't give any indication that he had taken me there numerous times. Good man.
"But a few blocks away, Thomas," I said, helping Avalon into the carriage. "We mustn't be too conspicuous. After you," I said to Victor.
"No, I insist," he replied.
Yes. Suspicious.
I climbed in and sat quite close to Avalon. For such a small carriage, it was a pleasant necessity. Victor sat opposite of us, and he didn't take his eye off me for the entire trip to Gray's Inn. A few blocks from the brothel, as instructed, Thomas stopped the carriage.
"It will likely be disorganized there, so if we get separated, meet back here in two hours.,"
Victor said, looking at his pocket watch. "That gives us until eight o'clock. Agreed?"
Avalon and I nodded. After all, Victor would take the obvious lead with Avalon being a woman and me, I always prefered to fade into the background anyway.
We got off and walked to the brothel where we blended in with the bustling about. Avalon stuck close to me, to my great delight, and we were separated from Victor shortly after arrival.
He was right. It was chaos here. Police everywhere one looked. Twice the number that was here a few nights ago when I had first run into Victor and Avalon in the alley across the street.
They've stepped up their investigation. I caught sight of a few newspaper reporters. No surprise.
The press was milking these "vampire" killings for all they were worth. I heard the price of garlic had quickly escalated over the past week. Leave it to the press to incite panic and control the free market.
"Never seen nuthin' like it." I heard to my left, so I guided Avalon over with me. We stood nearby and pretended to be going over some notes of our own as I listened in.
"There's hardly nuthin' left to 'em," the same voice said.
"They were quite small to begin with," another voice added, "just children, really." He was older than the first. Big man. Overweight. Thick mustache. Hair greying.
"It's disgustin'," the first voice said. "It's they that shoulda been killed, not them girls."
"I somehow think they're at peace now. That was no life for them." My thoughts exactly.
Perhaps I wasn't so inhuman after all. Perhaps it's just the cynicism of old age.
"Did ya hear? That one girl was daughter t'Theodore Cadman," the younger said. He looked new. Shiny badge. Perfectly pressed uniform. And there was a kind of excitement mixed with the horror in his eyes.
"The magistrate?"
"The very same. Kidnapped righ' from her room, the parents say. Been lookin' fer her fer weeks. And all that time she's been up'n here. Criminal. That's what't is. That Jeffries woman, that's who we need t'arrest."
"Sure, if we could find her."
"Why don' we close this place down?" the first asked. The young are so idealistic. They see everything as a simple fix.
"Good question. Something political, no doubt." Yep. Cynicism. Or I prefer to call it wisdom.
"It jus' ain' righ'."
That's for sure.
A third man joined them.
"Heya Sarge," the first voice said. "Any news?" The young copper stood a little straighter when 'Sarge' approached. The older man didn't bother.
"Nothing we didn't already know. The inspector has been from one end of the place to the other. He's in there now questioning them who's left. They're all pretty shook up, as one could imagine."
"How long we have to be here, Sarge?" the older officer asked.
"Get comfortable, lads. This'll be an all-nighter." 'Sarge' strode confidently toward the brothel.
Avalon began to follow him into the building, and I followed her. She slipped in without a glance, and before I knew it, we were in the same room I had been just a few nights ago. The same old woman sat in the same old chair, now opposite a thin man with a bushy mustache. I could only assume he was the inspector to whom the constables were referring. Across the room, three older prostitutes cowered together, crying. By older I mean in their twenties and thirties.
"As I told you before, Inspector, we get all kinds in here. Young and old. Rich and the not so rich. Everyone has their vices. Young girls is it for many a gent. I tell you now. Many a gent," the old woman said. No judgment, just the acceptance of a rather sick truth.
"Two, well three murders in as many days. This is no coincidence. Not even a little. Who came in last night? Anyone look suspicious?"
"They's all look suspicious, Gov'. Most don't even show their faces. Same stuff I told you the other day, Inspector. All due respect, but this is no ordinary man doin' this. He's a monster, he is."
"All due respect, madam, anyone who comes into this establishment as a customer is a monster."
She set her jaw and didn't respond. Acceptance.
A scream down the hall made the inspector look up at us.
"Don't just stand there, lads. Go check that out!" he ordered us. Avalon and I rushed down the hall to find Victor and a woman in tears standing next to a body mostly covered by a sheet.
Victor had her roughly by the arm and was holding up one end of the sheet forcing the woman to look at the bloody mess beneath it.
"What's going on?" Avalon said, deepening her voice slightly. How delightful.
"It nothing. She doesn't know anything," Victor replied. Then a light went on somewhere inside Victors head, and it reflected in his features. He spun the woman around roughly and ripped off my mustache.
"Ow!" I said.
"Do you know this man?" Victor asked the girl, already traumatized now looked quite horrified at Victor's rough use of her.
"Victor!" Avalon said. "How dare you!" She grabbed Victor's arm and tried to pry his hand off the girl, but he wouldn't budge.
"No, m'lord. I don't know him. Never seen him." Victor looked again defeated. He pushed her and Avalon away roughly. The girl took the opportunity to run back toward the sitting room, probably to join the other cowering whores.
"What are you playing at, Victor?" I said, snatching my disguise back from him. "Do you want us all to get arrested? Convicted, more like, for impersonating police?" I put the mustache back on, and Avalon straightened it, smiling at me. An apologetic smile. Victor was a handful.
"Something's not right with you, York. I'm going to find out what it is," Victor said, jamming his finger into my chest.
I took a step toward him menacingly until we were nose to nose. "I could say the same about you, Dawson," I hissed.
Avalon physically pushed us apart and stepped between us this time, putting a hand against each of our chests. "Stop it!" she said. "Stop it now. Victor," she continued, turning to him,
"don't you think we have enough to worry about. Whatever personal problem you have with Arthur can wait until after these things are caught. All right?"
Victor's expression went from anger to defeat to embarrassment, and then circled back to anger. Poor guy didn't know what to feel. Or what to do. His behavior was that of a desperate man. Desperate to stop these murders, but also desperate because he knew he was losing Avalon to me. Losing her. Of course, he had never had her, not in that sense. But she was his best friend.
He must have felt very lonely since I had come into their lives. Add to that his suspicion of me.
Yes. I'd say he was desperate.
"You're right, Avalon. I'm not sure what's wrong with me," he said, and then he stormed past us both and down the hall.
"I apologize for his behavior, Arthur. I've seen a different side to Victor these past days. I'm not quite sure who this new, angry person is. Before this case, he was so gentle and understanding. Funny even."
There was sadness in her eyes. The concern for a friend. I hadn't had one of those for so long. I mean, there was Nicholas, but that was more two men sharing conquests. There was no true affection between us. But her look reminded me of what it was like. The helplessness that comes with the realization that one cannot help.
"Oi!" Victor's voice came from an adjoining room. We followed the sound.
"What is it?" Avalon asked when we found him two rooms down. Another body covered in a bloody sheet lay on the bed. Victor was on his hands and knees reaching beneath the bed.
"This," he said. He held up a strange mechanical device that looked as though it was supposed to be strapped to one's wrist or perhaps forearm. Clockwork-like gears intricately fitted together made up the bulk of the mechanical part. The thing was also wrapped with wire that connected one piece to another. It all was quite strange to me, although it did remind me a little of Cecil's bloodletting device. Then all this new technology did, as I knew so very little about it.
Turning it over, Victor examined every part of the bizarre cuff. Beneath the mechanical parts was a leather band with buckles and leather straps to affix the thing to one's forearm. One of the straps had pulled loose from its stitching, likely why it was under the bed. Perhaps its owner didn't even know he had lost it until after he had left. Too busy decimating these bodies, I'd say.
"What is it?" she repeated, referring to the strange device.
"I recognize this work. At least, it's similar to what I've--never mind." Victor pocketed the piece and looked under the bed for more. He found nothing else.
"What, Victor? Tell us," Avalon said.
"Not until I'm sure," he replied, standing. With that, Victor left us alone in the room again.
Quite strange.
We didn't see Victor again until the rendezvous back at my carriage at eight o'clock. He was inside, examining his find and had already changed out of his constable uniform, which now lay crumpled on the floor. If you ask me, this case was making him mad. Or at least it was revealing the madman who already resided within.
"What was all that back there," Avalon asked concerned. She wrung her hands and looked at me, then back at Victor. She, too, was worried for his mental state. I could see it in her face. In her furrowed brow. But who wouldn't be with this erratic behavior?
"This," he said, holding up the gadget like it was a valuable treasure. The intensity in his eyes sent a chill down my spine, not an easy thing to do. "This is the key."
"The key to what?" Avalon asked. She climbed into the coach and sat opposite Victor. I followed her lead.
"To this case, of course!" Victor snapped.
"Are you going to share this revelation with us, Victor, or are you keeping it to yourself?"
Avalon sounded more than a little cross now. She sat with her arms folded over her chest. Her stern expression coming out from behind that ridiculous mustache endeared her to me even more. Oh! So many centuries without love! The first time since my beloved Catherine, and I'm knocked over by it.
Victor jumped out of the coach. "You two get changed. I'll sit with Thomas and direct him where we're going. It won't be a long ride, so don't dally."
"But, Victor," Avalon protested. Worry creeping back in. His behavior and movements were so erratic. So sudden. It was quite unsettling.
"Don't worry, Ava, I'm sure Arthur here won't peek," he said with a cynical grin and then slammed the brougham door. We felt the carriage bounce as he joined Thomas on the coachman's bench.
"Yah!" Victor shouted. God help us if he has the reigns.
"Well," I said, feeling awkward, and I actually think I was blushing. This was new.
"Um. Well, I trust you, Arthur," she said, although she didn't sound too sure. She drew the curtains on her side of the carriage.
But did I trust me? I drew the curtains on my side, removed my hat, and blocked Avalon from my view. I turned to the window as if I were looking out of it, but since the curtains were drawn, I just stared into the blackness of them. I could hear her unbuttoning the uniform. I could hear her breathing increase. Her heartbeat became more rapid. Or was that mine? No, no, I didn't have a heartbeat. I didn't breathe. Was it hot in here? I was at full attention, and it was my turn to change next.
Think of anything but Avalon undressing merely an arm's reach away. Think of anything else.
Um... rats. That's it. Rats. Horrible, disgusting creatures. Not at all arousing... like Avalon. No!
Rats... Of course the more I tried to not think of it, the more I thought of it. Even trying to imagine Henry with Catherine brought my thoughts back to Avalon. I was really in trouble now.
"All right," she finally said, after what seemed like a lifetime. One of my lifetimes! I lowered my hat, placing it on my lap. Good place for it. I turned to her, and she looked like the ruffian I had run into a few nights back. Small. Adorable. I loved this woman. She gathered up Victor's crumpled uniform from the floor and put it along with her own in the black satchel.
"Your turn," she continued. "Could I borrow your hat?"
Placing my hand strategically in my lap, I handed her my hat, and she turned around for me to change. Why was this such a problem? I had undressed in front of countless women. I had undressed countless women, but this was all new to me.
I unbuttoned my uniform shirt and slipped it off. My obvious excitement wasn't subsiding. I was really, really glad she had turned away.
"I--I really appreciate your courtesy," she said from behind my hat. Her voice trembled in the nervousness she no doubt felt. It reflected my own.
"Of course," I responded, unbuckling my trousers and slipping them off, exposing my considerable erection. I angled myself more toward the carriage door, just in case she turned around. She must've heard me move because she cleared her throat.
It was very hot in here.
"What do you think Victor has discovered?" she asked. She was trying to ease the tension by talking, but the sound of her voice was having the opposite effect on me.
"Not sure," I replied, and my voice cracked. It actually cracked like a pre-pubescent school boy! How embarrassing! "Hopefully he'll enlighten us when we stop," I replied in my naturally deeper voice, then pulled on some workman's dungarees and fastened them with some difficulty around my excitement. Will this carriage ride ever be over? As I was putting on my shirt, the carriage hit a large bump, and it rocked so forcibly that Avalon was thrown on top of me. My arms went instinctively around her. She looked at me in surprise, for there on my lap, she had to feel what I was so desperately trying to hide. Her eyes were even with mine and I felt her warm breath on my mouth. I ached for her. Looking down, I let go of her and tried to ease her back across the carriage to the opposite-facing seat, but to my surprise, she resisted. She placed her hand on my cheek and bent down for a kiss. I eagerly met her lips, and they tasted sweet and soft. Unlike what kissing me had to be like: cold and hard, but she didn't recoil. Instead, she kissed me deeper, parting her lips so that I might swirl my tongue with hers. If it was possible, I got even harder, and she pressed into it, kissing me still. In our moment, neither of us noticed the carriage had stopped. The door swung open, interrupting the kiss, and there stood Victor, a smile quickly fading from his face.
"We're here," he snapped, looking directly at me with a spiteful scowl.
I finished dressing quickly while Avalon grabbed The Slayer gun and stepped out of the carriage past her angry partner to the other side of the street. He shoved his hand in his pocket and spit onto the sidewalk behind him.
"You coming or what?" he growled at me.
I grabbed the crossbow out of the bag on the floor, loaded it, and stepped out of the carriage, still buttoning up the shirt with the loaded crossbow under my arm.
"Where are we?" Avalon asked.
"Chelsea," he said gruffly. "We're heading down that way," he added pointing down some rather dark streets. Avalon turned to look, then started heading in that direction. Victor took the opportunity to accost me.
"Stay away from her," he hissed through clenched teeth.
"She doesn't seem to mind," I replied perhaps a little too arrogantly for my own good because he then shoved me, none too gently, up against the carriage.
My reaction was swift, and I was nose to nose with him before he could blink. Mistake.
"I knew it," he said wide eyed. "You're not human."
"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," I replied, taking a step back and straightening my coat. Avalon had turned back around in time to see Victor throw a punch. He hit me squarely in the jaw, and although it likely hurt his hand more than my jaw, I reacted as was expected of a human. I threw myself up against the carriage again, rocking it this time.
"Oi!" Thomas shouted jumping down from his seat and standing between me and Victor.
Avalon had reached us and also placed herself between Victor and me. "What is the meaning of this? Victor? What is wrong?" She demanded.
"It's him, Avalon. I tell you. Something is off with him!"
"Not this again! There is no time for this, Victor. I've grown weary of this jealous tantrum.
There is work to be done. Please."
Victor just stared at me with fiery eyes, teeth clenched.
"Victor!" Avalon scolded. "Let's go!"
"C'mon." He shook it off and led us down a dimly lit street. No matter how dark the night, I could always see clearly. Had to ensure I didn't let on to that fact. We followed, not making eye contact with each other. Thomas stayed with the carriage.
After a few blocks, Avalon asked, "Where are we going?" She sounded exasperated, tired of all this business. It had been a trying few days.
"You'll see," he said.
"Victor. Stop," she demanded. "Where are you taking us?"
"To see the maker of this," he said, holding up the contraption found at the brothel.
"Why didn't we just drive there?"
"Element of surprise, my dear. It does throw one off guard," he said, looking squarely at me.
The scowl had returned. "Now c'mon." He turned down a darkened alleyway between two buildings, but before he could go much further, they were upon us. Two of them. I didn't even hear them approach, which makes them faster than me.
They were on Avalon and Victor before they could react, and I had to choose between them fast or lose them both.
No choice, of course.
I ripped the one off of Avalon and shot it point blank through the chest. Paralyzed, she fell to the dirty street with a thud. It was the whore I had a few nights back. Dropping the crossbow, I went for the next one, who had already taken a bite out of Victor and was feeding deeply. I grabbed it from the back of the neck and pulled it off of Victor. It was Lady Haldenby, blood drenched her mouth, and it reminded me that I hadn't properly eaten for days. Well, since her.
She growled and clawed at me, but then recognition dawned on her face. I stabbed her through the heart with the stake attached to Victor's belt before she could speak. She froze, and I lay her next to Victor, who was bleeding profusely. A large portion of his throat was ripped out. Blood was everywhere. Covering me. Covering Avalon. Covering Victor. It smelled so good. I could feel my fangs descending, but Avalon couldn't see. Control, Arthur. Must keep control.
"Victor!" she yelled, coming to his side. She knelt beside him and gasped in shock at his state.
Blood spurted from his mouth and from the hole in his throat as he tried to speak.
"Lacy," he said.
"No, Victor. It's Avalon."
"Lacy," he repeated, blood gurgling in his throat.
I stood over the two of them, unsure of what to do. All I knew was that I couldn't feed, and it smelled so good. All that blood, just going into the street. What a waste. I licked off the little that was on my hands.
Avalon sobbed, and that stopped any thought of eating. My love was hurting. Her friend was dying.
Remember, Arthur, I rebuked myself. Remember what it's like to be human. As if I could after so long, but I faked it well enough.
I stooped down next to Avalon and put a hand on her shoulder. She was crying. Tears fell from her cheeks onto Victor's blood-covered face, cutting clean lines in the delicious red mess that covered him.
"Victor! It will be all right, Victor," she lied. This man had mere moments before he bled out.
Then with what must've been his last bit of strength, pushed that strange machine into Avalon's hand and said, "Frederick Lacy."
Then he died.
"Victor!" Avalon screamed, shaking him violently. She put her ear to his chest then started shaking him again. Shrieking, "Victor! NO!"
My heart ached. My shriveled up, dead heart ached. She was in so much pain, and I didn't know what to do!
"Victor!" She shook him again, trying to wake him from that eternal sleep. There was no waking from that rest, not without becoming an abomination.
I pulled her close to me, and she turned, burying her face in my shoulder, and wept. Her heaving frame rocked me back and forth as I stared down at our fallen companion and watched his blood fill the gaps between the cobblestones on the street. I've seen a lot of death in my time, as one might imagine. Caused a great deal of it myself, so I had long become numb to it; but this was different. It's as if I felt grief through Avalon. It was as if death itself had taken up residence in my body. I felt sick, nauseous.
Pulling myself out of Avalon's despair, I knew we had to get out of this alley in case more came. I had to get her to safety and then finish the job here. Who was this Frederick Lacy?
Avalon still sobbed into my chest. I lifted her as I stood up, hoping to walk her back to the carriage, but she pushed away from me, looking at me as if she had never seen me before. Her face was a smeared canvas of dirt, blood, and tears.
"Avalon," I said. "Let's get back to the carriage. Thomas will take you back to my house, and keep you safe. I'll finish up here."
She looked around at the bloody scene beneath us. Fresh tears fell silently down her face, and her hands went up over her ears, as if she was trying to keep out some harrowing sound. I reached to comfort her again, but she pushed me away.
"No." That's all she said.
"Ava," I said gently, reaching for her again. Trying to regain that connection we held so briefly, but she'd have none of it. She was too traumatized.
"NO!" she screamed, then turned and ran in the direction of the carriage. I kept in time with her, assuring that when she reached the brougham, she'd stop. She didn't. I had to forcibly bring her back to it, and she was none too happy about it.
"Let me go!" she shouted, struggling in my grasp. Passersby began to stare and point.
"Thomas. Take her back home. My home. Make sure she's safe."
"Yes, m'lord," he said, helping me get her into the carriage.
"NO!" Avalon screamed and struggled to get free. We finally got her inside the carriage and closed the door, but before Thomas could get up into his seat, she had opened the door and tried to run. Now the passersby had completely stopped, formed little groups, and were looking more cross by the moment. Pointing and whispering, I remembered that we were both covered in Victor's blood. They would likely call the police, and I couldn't risk a run in with the police.
I let her go. I had no choice.
Reaching inside the carriage to grab Victor's weapon bag, I instructed Thomas to try to follow her, but not to attempt to apprehend her again. Just to make sure she got home safely. He nodded and drove away. The clump of people dispersed and continued on in their predictable lives. They would have an exciting tale of attempted kidnapping by a bloody assailant to tell at tea tomorrow.
I returned to the scene of the murder. It was all the same, frozen in time. The two creatures were still paralyzed. Victor was still dead, as that rarely changes once it happens. I thought about what I had to do. Since we don't know how these things multiply, I will have to decapitate Victor as well. Just in case. After all, he might be infected, and he knows where Avalon lives.
Good thing she isn't here for that. She may not understand.
His blood had wound its way between the cobblestones of the side street and found release in a storm drain situated in the middle of the main road. The bodies had already bled out, or I would've loved a quick snack. I dropped the weapon bag and rummaged around inside for the hatchet.
Surely he didn't leave it behind again, not after last time.
But it wasn't in there. Beneath the constable uniforms stuffed inside, all that remained were some extra stakes, some holy water, and some crosses. Mostly useless. I looked at Victor's body lying there in the alleyway, so much blood wasted. The one stake, with which I had pierced Lady Haldenby, was still attached to his belt. I snapped the cord easily enough, and then I noticed something stuck inside his belt just behind the stake kit: the hatchet!
"Good man, Victor," I said to the night.
I looked down at Victor's remains and marveled at life and death. I had known this man.
Alive, Full of fury and life and love, and now nothing. Still. What must be done, must be done.
With a single stoke, I removed his head and then dragged his body into the shadows against one of the buildings to hide it, at least until I could dispose of it properly. Then I severed the head of the prostitute. Dust to dust. Certainly less of a mess! Now onto Lady Haldenby, but before I struck, I had a thought. Perhaps I could find a way to question her first. Find out who this Frederick Lacy was. Find out someway to stop this, or London would be quite overrun with these creatures before long.
I used the mallet, attached by a cord along with a wooden cross, to drive the stake into her heart further, ensuring it wouldn't shake loose when I moved the woman. She didn't even flinch.
The paralysis held.
I couldn't carry her through the streets in that position. It would be too conspicuous, even with the speed I could move, and I couldn't properly restrain her here. What to do?
Momentarily, I considered taking the stake out and trying to reason with her. After all, her husband seemed reasonable enough at first. She lay on her back with her arms outstretched, as she was reaching for me when I staked her. Taking hold of her arm, I tried to put it down, and it worked! In fact, she was completely pliant, which brought to mind all sorts of devious thoughts, but there was no time for that, and, I found to my complete surprise, that I really wasn't that interested.
Avalon swam into my mind's view.
Her sweet face. Piercing eyes.
I really was in love, especially if carnal delights with other women, or in Lady Haldenby's case female vampire-like creatures, no longer interested me.
I moved her limbs so that I could pick her up and it would appear I was carrying a woman in need. Perhaps one who had fainted or been attacked. She still wore what I assumed were her burial clothes, but they were very dirty and torn, which might just help in the illusion of a woman in need.
Turning onto the main street adjacent to the alley, I was careful not to be seen by the few people about. I moved quickly. Unless someone was looking directly at me, they would but see a blur in their peripheral vision. We were but a few miles from my home, but things got quite busy in Kensington, even this late on a Tuesday night. I kept mostly to the shadows, moving quickly when there weren't many about, until I found a building in North Chelsea that was low enough to jump upon, even with Lady Haldenby in my arms. From there, I could get to the next level, and then the next, traveling the rest of the way on the tops of buildings until I reached my own. I put Lady Haldenby down on the roof and jumped down into the alley behind my home. Using the back entrance, I rather startled Cecil who was making a cup of tea for himself in the kitchen.
"Avalon here?" I asked, thankful he was at least here tonight and not off cavorting with his sweetheart.
"No. She was with you."
"Thomas?"
"Not yet, m'lord. Again, he was with you," he said with the audacity of being annoyed.
"Yes. Well we got separated, didn't we?" I really had to speak with him about this growing impudence. It would most certainly not do.
"Would you fancy a cup of tea, m'lord?" he asked, sipping his own.
"No. I've got something on the roof, and it needs to be brought down to the cellar. I'll need your help."
"Of course, m'lord. However I can be of service." He put it tea down and folded his hands in front, ready for instructions.
"Follow me," I said, and I briefly explained the situation. We went up to the third floor, where my bedchamber was, and took the ladder hidden behind a false wall up to the roof. There Lady Haldenby still lay. Paralyzed. Interesting, these creatures.
"Oh dear," Cecil said. "Is she all right?"
"Does she look all right, Cecil?" I said with more than a little annoyance myself. Something was amiss with Cecil as well. His behavior of late. Everything was not as it should be. "Just hold the trap open for me until I get on the ladder," I instructed, "Then you'll have to descend. I'll lower her down to you."
"Very good, m'lord."
After straightening her limbs, I lifted her into my arms and stepped on the top rung of the ladder, holding the trap open with my leg, and waited for Cecil to get to the bottom. Once there, I lowered her down into his arms.
"Just put her in the hallway," I yelled down to him. "Then go get the restraints in the cellar ready. I'll have her down there in a few minutes."
"Very good, m'lord," he called up the chute.
I climbed down the ladder to see that Cecil did as I asked. I threw Lady Haldenby over my shoulder and headed downstairs. When I reached the main floor, Thomas came in and locked the door behind him.
"Avalon?" I asked hopefully.
"She made it home, m'lord."
"Thank you, Thomas," I said, relieved she was all right.
"She was quite distraught, m'lord. If I may ask, m'lord, what happened out there?"
"As you can see, Thomas," I said to him, indicating the woman thrown over my shoulder,
"I'm still in the middle of it. I'll fill you in later. Thank you for your continued excellent service, Thomas. I couldn't have done this without you tonight. That will be all for now, but stay close.
I'll be visiting Avalon later if possible."
"Yes, m'lord." There was a hint of pride on his face, and I realized I had never praised him before. I had to do so more often. Indeed. He was a good man.
I continued through the back hallway and into the kitchen. On the left was a large pantry, and descending from the pantry was a ladder that led down into the cellar. It was a large, food storage cellar, but this household obviously didn't need very much food, so half of it was converted into a chamber for my more dubious diversions. My own chamber of horrors.
"Cecil?" I called down.
"Here, m'lord," he said, appearing at the bottom of the ladder.
"Good man, here she comes." I lowered her down, just as before. "Clamp her in tight, and I'll be there shortly."
I still had the hatchet tucked into my belt, but I went back into the kitchen to get a few knives as well. Didn't know how easily she would talk, but it would be fun to find out.
I jumped down into the cellar, and a dust cloud of dirt formed around my feet as I landed.
Cecil had done as I asked again, which shouldn't come as a surprise, but it did. His behavior had indeed been strange of late.
The woman-creature in question was securely in place. Her arms and legs were both clasped in iron shackles upon a heavy wooden table. She lay there, still as stone.
"Will that be all, m'lord?" Cecil said. He seemed rather nervous and anxious to leave.
Perhaps he was getting skittish in his middle-age.
"No stomach for it anymore, ol' boy," I chided.
"Not tonight, m'lord. If that will be all."
"Yes. Fine. But stay close. I might need you after all."
"Of course, m'lord."
Cecil scrambled up the ladder and left me alone in the dimly lit cellar with my prey.
Now to get some answers.
Grabbing the stake firmly, I gave it a good tug and pulled it out of her chest. She immediately animated, lunging for me, but the shackles kept her in place. As she was struggling, I noticed the chest wound close. Mere seconds. She healed even faster than I do.
"Interesting," I said.
Recognition sparked in her eyes, and she said, "You!"
"Yes, my dear. It is I. How was your weekend?" At this her struggling increased, frantic she was and determined to reach me.
"You! You monster! You killed me!" she screeched, her copper locks bouncing against the table as she struggled to get free.
"That I did, but I guess I didn't do all that good a job, seeing as how you're moving about again. Tell me, my dear, why didn't you stay dead?" She stopped wrestling against her restraints and finally lay still.
"I had my heart set on revenge. Taking you down, I had hoped." she snarled.
"Here I am. Take me down," I teased.
She struggled against the iron anew, but the bondage didn't budge. Given enough time with her supernatural strength, she might wriggle free, so I need make this quick.
"Who brought you back?" I asked.
She didn't speak but rather pursed her lips tightly together and stared up at the ceiling.
I showed her one of the larger knives from the kitchen, twisting it between my fingers. Her eyes went from the knife to the hatchet stuck in my belt. She tensed against the restraints and tried to break free again.
"Who brought you back?" I repeated. I think it was clear what I would do if she didn't answer. She already knew I was capable of that and so much more.
"Freddie," she hissed, relaxing against the table again, "And he won't be happy about your interference. Oh no. He won't be happy at all!"
"Freddie?" My brain worked, putting the puzzle pieces together. "Would this be Frederick Lacy by chance?" I asked.
"That's Doctor Lacy to you," she spat at me.
"So he's a doctor? What kind of 'doctor' is he?"
She growled at me, and her face began to protrude in the same manner as her husband's did.
The beautiful redhead I enjoyed so recently was far from beautiful now. Her brow furrowed and bulged into a harsh ridge above her now sunken yellow eyes. Her eyebrow growing into a huge bushy line across her forehead.
"A genius," she snarled, eyes crazy and feral all at once. "A genius that will rule the world!"
Quite clear, that. She's insane. She was growling and snapping her considerable jaws at me, her snout much larger than her husband's had extended. I must've cut him off in mid-morph. She truly was a beast unlike which I have ever seen.
This doctor was obviously insane as well.
"See this here?" I said, showing the stake to her, shouting over her snarls. "I will stick this right back into your heart unless you give me the information I require. Understand?"
She didn't. She just kept snarling and struggling against the restraints until I heard the table splinter. Her hand was at my throat in a flash, causing me to drop the stake. She began squeezing, but I had no breath for her to cut off. Even against my marble flesh, I could feel that her strength matched if not surpassed mine, and she would likely decapitate me with her grip if I let it go on much longer. I grabbed the hatchet from my belt and swung, taking the arm off at the elbow. She shrieked, and so did I. Her hand was still grasped around my throat and still squeezing! I managed to get it off with some difficulty, but by the time my attention turned back to Lady Haldenby, her other hand was free. I flung one of the knives I had brought from the kitchen at her, and it landed square in her eye, distracting her for a moment, long enough for me to pick up the dropped stake. Hurling another knife allowed me the distraction to access her heart, and I drove the stake in once again. Paralyzed anew. A mad dog in heat, frozen. Without further hesitation, I took her head off, killing her for the second time. The pile of dust on my table told me she'd stay dead.
It had been a busy week.
After a quick change into something not covered in blood, I decided to visit the brothel again, hoping they hadn't yet removed the bodies. This had all gone too far. Whoever this Lacy fellow was, I would ensure that he did not succeed in this insanity. As far as we knew, all those things are now dead, but I had to make sure about the two girls murdered tonight. Make sure they wouldn't rise again.
Moving quickly through town, I ran across the rooftops or kept to the shadows down on street level, for it was late enough now that there were scarcely any people left out and about.
Any strange sight by a random bystander would be explained by excessive alcohol at this late hour. I arrived back in Gray's Inn in but a few minutes' time. The scene was much as I had left it hours ago, but with fewer police. I no longer had my disguise, so I had to use glamour, preferably to just slip by them unnoticed. I wrapped my face up in a scarf and pulled my hat down low, just in case.
Do not see me. I repeated over and over in my mind, transmitting my will upon them as I approached. It worked, as I walked right through them and into the brothel without so much as a sideways glance. Coppers were easy, especially when they were already distracted. Slipping past the inspector, who was taking notes and talking to one of the constables, I moved into the back, where the first girl was. She was still there beneath the bloody sheet. I pulled the sheet back and looked at the body, lying supine. Amazing that she'd ever come back with so much damage. Her throat was virtually nonexistent. Most of the meat was gone; I could see straight back to the spine. Still, I would have to stop this madness first, and then I could tend to my beloved. Out of curiosity, I looked further down the body, barely a woman. She was but a girl. Perhaps there was a kindness in her dying, not like this, of course, but she couldn't have chosen this life. There were egregious rumors about Madame Jeffries after all. So many young girls had been enslaved by that vile woman. Yes, this indeed was a better fate than to be used so. Even with the horrific way she died. The girl's torso was a mass of dried blood and ribbons of shredded skin. Whoever did this, likely Lady Haldenby or that other whore, must've been quite angry.
Or hungry.
There was no way this girl would rise again. It would be agony for her with these wounds, even with quick healing, too much was gone. Then again, I didn't know much about these monsters, so I had better take the safe road.
"This way," I heard a man say as a door closed down the hallway. I had to be quick. I snatched the hatchet from my belt and in one stoke did the deed. After covering her back up, I flattened myself against the dingy wall by the door and began repeating my mantra: Do not see me.
"The first one is here. You know what to do. Cause of death is obvious, but I'll still do full examination back at my laboratory," the same voice said as three men walked in. The leader carried a black leather medical bag; he was presumably the medical examiner. They went straight over to the girl. I slipped out behind them and into where the next girl lay, two doors down. As I entered her room, I heard the doctor exclaim, "Dear God! Who would do such a thing?"
Another voice ordered, "Quick, check the other body."
I had to work quickly.. Without taking care, I tore the sheet off and beheaded her. She wasn't as ripped up as the other, so reanimation seemed much more possible. I turned to leave just as the men entered the room.
They saw me standing there with my hatchet, and they rushed toward me shouting, but before they reached me I was gone, out the back door, and halfway down Gray's Inn Road. To them, it would have looked as though I just disappeared before their eyes. Let them try to explain that to their superiors. But now, unfortunately, they have a suspect. At least height and build, as they couldn't see my face. Sometimes paranoia pays off.
Once far enough from the brothel, down a particularly dark alleyway, I unwrapped my face and walked back into the street at a normal pace, coming out into the light of the gas street lamps. Within the hour, I had reached Baker Street. As I approached Avalon's, I focused all my attention on the inside of her house, and I felt pain. I heard sobbing. Most of her tenants were asleep, but Avalon wasn't. She was crying, alone. How could I get in to be with her and comfort her without waking her lodgers? Let her know that it's over, that I took care of it? Once in, how could I be secure come dawn, which was only a few hours away?
There was a faint flickering light coming from the second story window. Victor's office. That had to be where Avalon was grieving. I so wanted to be with her, ease her pain. I could, of course, just have leaped up there, but how would I explain that to Avalon? I decided to play it safe, so I gathered up some pebbles from the street and began tossing them against her window.
After about the sixth one, she came to the window and saw me. She opened the balcony doors and stepped outside. Her face was puffy and red, and her voice cracked when she spoke.
"What are you doing here, Arthur? Go home," she said, barely above a whisper.
"I needed to know you were safe."
"Just dandy, now please leave me alone." She began to go back inside.
"Wait." She did, turning back to me. "It's done."
"What's done?" she said, sounding overtired. She pulled her hands over her sweet face, rubbing her swollen, bloodshot eyes.
"All of it. I got the rest. No more will rise."
"And Victor?" She looked at me with apprehension through her exhaustion.
"He won't rise either," I said, shifting my weight uncomfortably from leg to leg and then looking down at my feet. I didn't want to give her details. I didn't want to see the realization on her face when she understood what I had done.
"Where is he?"
"Same place."
"You left him there?" Her exasperated anger took me by surprise. She had gone from defeated to wrathful in an instant.
"I--" ... didn't know what to say.
"Bury him, Arthur!" she said, as if it was the obvious course of action. I guess to a human, it was. "He deserves at least that. Show some damned respect." She went inside and shut the balcony door a little too hard.
I stood there in the street. Like a dimwitted school boy, I waited. Not knowing what to do next. It was as if she believed all this was my fault. It did, of course, start with one of my kills, but that was where my involvement ended. I threw the last few pebbles I had up to her window, urging her to come back outside, but she didn't. After a moment, I saw the light go out, and I knew that was it for the night. She had been on the verge of giving herself to me, and now this.
Turning to leave, I thought for a moment that I may have lost her for good, and a pitiful cry gurgled up from my core and stuck in my throat. I would do anything to keep her, anything.
Burying Victor was the least I could do for her. For my love.
Ah yes, love. This was truly love. Now I remembered.
The full agony of love filled my being. Not the euphoric feeling of the beginning. Not shouting from the treetops love. The excitement of the chase. The anticipation of possibilities.
That wasn't love. This was love. This agony. This suffering. This sinking feeling in my chest.
Feeling unable to live without her. Knowing I could not live without her. Knowing I would do anything for her, even if it led to my own ruin, for I was nothing without her. Feeling what she feels. Happy only when she's happy. Desperation. Pure pathos. I felt nauseous. Sick. Empty and gorged at the same time.
Yes. This was love.
Then, as if on cue, it started to rain. One could always count on London for rain. I listened to it hit the cobblestones, and it played the symphony of my breaking heart. The water filled the crevices between the cobblestones quickly, and the tinny sound of the large drops hitting the newly formed puddles filled my ears, but it did not fill my heart. My dead, shriveled, empty, breaking heart.
Sweet Avalon, had I lost her? Something between us had shifted. Was it just her grief, or had Victor's death killed our chance at love?
I rushed back to my home and roused Thomas out of bed. Good man, Thomas. He didn't even question the time or the matter. He just did his duty. Day or night. He drove me back to the scene of Victor's attack. Victor brought us here for a reason, which means that Lacy's rooms had to be very close to this alley. But there wasn't time for that confrontation tonight. Although, he probably had been clipped by all his creations being destroyed. It could be a good time for an attack, especially if he starts the creation process again. But that hopefully would take time. After all, my only concern was Avalon's well-being.
Hidden by the shadows of the bloodstained alley, I gathered up Victor's corpse and head, wrapping them in a sheet. When I was done, I climbed back into the carriage with the bloody bundle that so recently held life. I had Thomas take me to the Brompton Cemetery. Once there, I put Victor's wrapped body parts over my shoulder and set out again in the rain. As I sloshed through the overgrown graveyard, lightning struck. A rare sight in London, that. Rain, no.
Lightning and thunder, quite rare. It was as if the earth was showing its sorrow for the loss of this good man. Or perhaps the gods were angry, if there were such things. Unlikely. Not in a world such as this.
As I neared Lord Haldenby's sepulcher, lightning lit up the grey sky, briefly illuminating a huge, dead tree to the right. Its naked branches reached toward me like death itself, but it couldn't have me yet.
I took Victor's remains from the sheet and laid him to rest in Lord Haldenby's tomb, arranging him for a proper burial. It seemed fitting. I situated the broken lid over him. It didn't quite seal him in, but it would do for now. I would have a new one made for him tomorrow.
Avalon was right. He was a good man, as far as humans go, and he loved Avalon.
We had that in common.
I saw Victor's face through the crack. Death. What a frightening prospect. I had obviously seen a lot of death in my time, caused most of what I had seen, but it remains a mystery. This corpse that looked like Victor wasn't Victor. Victor was gone. Perhaps completely ceased to exist. Perhaps in another state of existence. Perhaps being reborn somewhere. Whatever the truth, he was no longer here. This vessel that contained him was now just necrotic tissue. Lifeless. Still, people felt the need to visit these dead cells and talk to them, pour their heart out to them. Felt the need to honor it with burial.
I don't understand it. I never did.
All the ceremony had to be more for the living than the dead. A way to cope, perhaps. If there was consciousness after death, that consciousness likely doesn't care what happens to its former form. It would be like a snake being sentimental about its shed skin. The snake had already moved on.
I could smell dawn approaching. I rushed back to the carriage, and Thomas drove me home at top speed. We arrived just before dawn. Seeing Avalon would have to wait until this evening.
With every cell in my own lifeless form, my entire being and centuries of existence that went along with it, I hoped she would be all right.
Under strict instructions, Cecil sent word to Avalon first thing in the morning that Victor was peacefully resting in Brompton, hoping it would ease her suffering a little.
I slept through most of the next day, albeit restlessly, and I was out the door the moment the sun set. Thomas was waiting at the door. He knew me too well. He drove me over to Avalon's while I rehearsed what I was going to say. I have never been too good at dealing with the grieving. Watching Catherine suffer Henry's rejection and the humiliation that followed made me wish I had stayed dead. Still, I hadn't been able to talk to her, so I couldn't have said the wrong thing.
This was a completely different situation. What can one say that will ease the pain of loss?
The wrong words would increase suffering, and the right words won't change the loss itself.
Saying nothing perhaps was worse, as it could be interpreted as indifference. Truly, a difficult situation. Perhaps I'll just listen, if she'll let me.
Upon arrival, I stepped out, straightened my coat, and gathered up my courage. This time, as it was a decent hour, I rang her bell.
Unexpectedly, the door was answered by a bright pink-clad Lady Bainbridge. My well-rehearsed speech would have to wait. Fortunately, she wasn't dressed in chartreuse.
"Well, my, my, my, my, my" she said with a gleam in her eye. "Arthur York. Do come in."
She put a suggestive lilt on the word "in," flipped open her fan, and began fanning herself wildly.
I bowed slightly, ignoring the innuendo, took off my hat, and stepped inside. Emily led me to the parlor, which was situated on the first floor, and there, on one end of the sofa, sat Avalon dressed in a pretty black dress, all black. Her face was partially covered by a veil that swept down to her nose from her conservative hat. It was wide brimmed, no whimsical tiny top hat today. This was a house of mourning, and I took care to show that I respected that. Although, it seemed, Emily did not, for she was as ostentatious as ever.
"Do sit down, Arthur," she said, taking a seat in a chair to the right of Avalon.
"Lady Bainbridge," I said. "What a surprise to see you here." I sat on the other end of the sofa from Avalon rather than the chair next to Emily, making my intention to speak with Avalon clear. Emily noticed and appeared rather ruffled by it, for she pursed her lips and tightened her jaw.
"Yes. I suppose you came to speak with my niece alone. I do know how you like to be alone with women," she said cattily, emphasizing the word 'alone'.
I looked at her sharply, insisting she behave herself.
She didn't heed the warning.
"You do have a reputation, after all." She continued to fan herself absentmindedly, but there was nothing absent about her sharp mind and biting wit. "So, Arthur, what do you want with my dear niece on this fine evening?"
"I was concerned. She's lost a friend," I said to Emily, although I was now watching Avalon closely. She dabbed under her eyes with a white handkerchief, but she wouldn't look at me. The sight of me reminds her of Victor's horrible death, and she can't bear that.
"I asked you to leave me alone, Arthur," she said softly.
Before I could respond, Emily let out a vile bark of laughter, making a tense situation even more strained with her rudeness.
"Is that so?" mused Emily, "But you just couldn't stay away, right Arthur? Your appetite is too strong for that, no?"
So much for being discreet. This woman didn't care if Avalon knew about her conquests.
"Yes, I told Avalon that she shouldn't get so close with her tenants. I mean, after all, they were not of her standing, were they? Especially this Victor. Scientist or something? How dreadfully dull."
Avalon tensed at this, but she seemed to know that the less one engaged Emily, the better.
Only if I had learned that lesson more quickly.
"Avalon, might I have a word alone?" I said, scooting closer to Avalon and reaching out for her hand resting on her lap, but Avalon lifted it to her face, dabbing her eyes again and avoiding my touch. I withdrew, hurt.
"We're all friends here, Lord York," Emily said, "I'm sure whatever you have to say I can hear. Isn't that right, my dear?" The last directed at Avalon. "After all, Lord York and I know each other quite well, don't we Arthur?"
She giggled. More like a cackle, really.
Avalon looked up at her aunt and then over to me. I kept my face still, betraying nothing. She knew. I could see it in her face. The minimal slight I felt ,mere moments ago when she avoided my touch reflected in her face a thousand times stronger. It was the look of heartbreak. Betrayal.
Now Emily laughed heartily. "Oh my! Was it love?" she said cruelly.
Avalon stood up and stormed from the room.
Emily continued to laugh and fan herself. She seemed pickled pink. I was having none of this. In a blink of her eye, I was upon her. That cut her derisive laughter short. My hand was upon her throat, and I lifted her to meet me, eye to eye. Her eyes were wide with fear, but I could still see the desire deep within, which angered me even more.
"Know that I can snap your neck without effort, woman." I breathed the words into her face before I dropped her back onto the chair.
And with that, I was gone.
Several weeks went by, and I called on Avalon every day, but she refused to see me. Every evening I brought her fresh cut flowers and letters with proclamations of love, but she still refused. Every day I sent Thomas with more professions, but he was turned away as well.
After each night's refusal, I kept more of a distance, watching her from afar, determined to ensure her safety and well-being. From the rooftop of the building across from hers, I'd watch through her window until she turned in for the night. She spent much time in Victor's study, going through his papers and organizing his books. With the help of a feather duster, she dusted all his contraptions from one end of the room to the other, and then started over dusting them again. She would do this for hours until her eyelids began to droop. After she went to sleep, I'd stay until dawn, just in case she'd wake again.
The next night I would return with more flowers and more proclamations of my love. And so the cycle continued.
I wouldn't give up. I had eternity to turn her around. She had fallen in love with me, and she must love me still! Else she wouldn't care so much about Emily. Right? I tried to convince myself, but it fell flat. The thought that I had destroyed my only chance for love in over three centuries because of a tryst depressed me.
As the weeks progressed, she dusted less and cried less, seemingly coming to a sort of acceptance, but she still wouldn't accept my gifts or my company. I stopped going there at night, but I didn't stop trying. Instead, each morning I sent Thomas with new flowers and a new letter.
Each day he returned with the flowers smashed and the letter torn to bits. I no longer went out at all. Not for galas or parties or to the park. I stayed in, day and night. I even stopped dressing. I just stayed in my dressing gown day and night, watching life go by outside the window. A life that I was no longer a part of. A life that I did not understand.
Other than that, things returned to relatively normal around my abode. I began having Cecil visit the butcher's for blood. Animals blood was certainly not as tasty, but I found that I didn't want anything human but Avalon. I would deny myself human blood as long as she denied herself to me. I drank enough blood to sustain me, but my depression lingered. Nicholas dropped by a few times for tea, but I had Cecil dismiss him. I was not up for entertaining. Cecil worried about me. He said it wasn't healthy to stay in all day and all night. That I needed to get back out in society. That I would get over Avalon if I just let her go. She was but another woman in the thousands I had known.
Did the man not know me? It had been over three hundred and fifty years, and I was still not over Catherine. I would hold Avalon in my heart until the day I finally expired from this cursed existence.
I sat in front of the large window in my parlor one evening, dressed only in my dressing gown. Cecil served tea and added twenty drops. But he could hold his tongue no longer.
"This isn't like you, m'lord," Cecil said. "You're wasting away. You need someone to eat. No more animal blood, m'lord, you need human blood. Just look at yourself." He pulled out a small looking glass and held it in front of me. I was all but invisible. I was truly fading away, just as I felt. Good. Let me fade from this tiresome world.
"This isn't healthy, m'lord. You're so much better than this, and I won't sit by and watch you do this to yourself any longer."
Thomas stepped into the room as well and spoke from just inside the door, "I'm with Cecil on this one, m'lord. Do forgive my insolence, m'lord, but we are quite concerned for your health."
"Leave me alone, both of you. I have no desire for drink or anyone but her. Just leave me be." I turned my back to them and looked out the window. Grey. Always grey. Lighter grey during the day. Smoky grey at night. Always, always grey.
"You're heartbroken, m'lord. I understand that," Cecil continued, speaking to my back. "I've been heartbroken myself as has Thomas here."
"Yes, m'lord. That's true, m'lord."
"But it is not the end," Cecil continued. "You need to go out. You need to feed and find some pleasurable company. Once you do, it will hurt less. Trust me, m'lord."
"I'm not interested in any of that, man. Are you not listening to me? I only want her." I dismissed them both with a lazy wave of my hand, but they didn't leave.
"You're 350 years old!" Cecil exclaimed, suddenly animated. He abandoned his normal proper demeanor and spoke to me as if we were equals. Big mistake. "You've survived centuries.
You're more powerful than any other being that we know of, and you're going to let this one, small human do this to you? If I may be so bold, m'lord. She's not even that attractive. You can do better much than the likes of her."
That got a reaction. I spun around in a blur of movement and went toward his throat, meaning to pin him against the wall, but he stepped out of the way in time, causing me to stumble and nearly fall.
"You see, m'lord," Cecil said tenderly. "You need to feed. Even your agility has been affected."
I looked at Thomas, the big, lankly lug, and only concern showed in his features. Neither of them laughed at my clumsiness or pain. They did truly care about me.
"Perhaps you are right."
"Of course I am, m'lord. So go out. Find some wench and drink her, then fuck her. You'll feel better, m'lord, I promise. Then in a few more nights you can do it again. You'll be back to your old self again in no time."
"But, Avalon--" I whimpered.
"--is not interested, m'lord," Cecil said. "Forgive my boldness, but you need to move on. You have been here long before her and you will be around long after she is dead. Best stick to the way life works for you, m'lord. Give it a few days, and you'll start to feel better."
"Perhaps you're right."
"Yes, m'lord. I'll lay out some clothes for you, m'lord."
Good man, Cecil.
Thomas clicked his heels in his excitement at the prospect of me going out, bowed, and said,
"I'll have the coach ready for you presently, m'lord."
Good man, Thomas.
Their concern for me was quite moving.
I met Cecil up in my chamber and he helped me dress in relatively casual clothes. He buttoned the waistcoat and held out a frock coat so that I might put my arms through. My movements were slow and sluggish. Still much stronger than a human, mind you, but weak for my kind. I did need to feed. Perhaps just a little, leaving whomever alive, but without a memory of it, of course. Just for my strength was all.
Cecil handed me my bowler hat and walking stick at the front door..I walked out into the London night for the first time in what seemed like ages. Must've only been a month or so, but time had lost all meaning since I lost my Avalon.
Thomas dropped me off near Westminster Abbey where my nieces lay side by side. The sadist and savior of England lay side by side. It was where I belonged, still in my own tomb out in Worcester. Still, what's past is past.
I walked by the Palace of Westminster just as Big Ben chimed midnight. The bells filled the air of the West Bank, overpowering the clattering of the few carriages that were left. I crossed the Thames on Westminster Bridge on the way down to the docks where I could find willing tarts to satisfy me. In the middle of the bridge I paused a moment to look over into the black waters. Not much of a moon tonight, yet the glowing face of the clock tower reflected perfectly on the water.
As I looked more closely, I could make out the silhouette of the Houses of Parliament and the great arches of Westminster Bridge on which I stood. I watched for quite some time, long after the bell had stopped chiming.
Cecil was right. I was better than this. I was behaving like a lovesick fool. I, Heir Apparent. I, Prince of Wales. I, Spring-Heeled Jack who harnesses powers of darkness. Why should I change my life? After all, it had worked for me for hundreds of years. I was better than this, and it was time to behave like a man again. I would find someone new. Perhaps someone new every night.
With my renewed confidence, I strode to the south bank and turned to walk along side the great river. Many were out tonight. As the stories of vampires and murder faded from the front page, people ventured out again in greater numbers than before. Through the South Bank, I passed many an alley already occupied with rapid breath, grunts, and moans. It stirred something below. Building up my resolve and justifying my actions, I continued along until I saw a young woman sitting on the south bank of the Thames, perhaps only twenty or so. A little young for my taste, but so completely the opposite of Avalon. Blonde. Buxom. Short. Filthy. She'd do.
"Follow me," I said to her.
She didn't hesitate. She needed the money to eat, no doubt. I led her down an empty alleyway into the shadows, and she followed willingly. I stopped in front of a pile of shipping crates which were out of any sort of light. The darkness permeated my pores and filled me with strength and determination. I began to recognize myself, and I remembered how good life was before Avalon. Well, perhaps 'good' wasn't the right word, but at least it was without pain.
Pleasantly tolerable. Let's leave it at that.
"What's yer pleazha, Gov?" the ragged waif said.
She looked up at me, awaiting directions.
"Can you do this without speaking?" I asked. "There's five pounds in it for you."
She nodded. Good girl.
"Turn around and bend over those crates." She did.
I lifted her skirts and felt a familiar warmth move into my loins. It was coming all back to me now. It hadn't been a bad life, after all. And this girl was full and wet and ready for me. I slid my hand up between her legs, feeling her wet warmth and hardened some more. I truly had missed this.
"Now," I whispered, unbuttoning my trousers. "This might sting at first, and I'll be none too gentle. But I won't hurt you...much, understand?"
She nodded.
I took myself out, ready to bury myself into that sultry basket, but I went limp in my hands.
My thoughts swam with images of Avalon and tears got stuck in my throat.
I couldn't do it.
Feed first, I thought. I just needed to feed first is all.
I pulled the girl's hair back from her neck and felt my fangs descend. I was really hungry after all, but as I went to bite, my fangs retracted!
The girl looked back at me and said, "Evry'fing awright, Gov?"
Impotent. An old, impotent, lovesick fool. I was pathetic. I pulled the fiver from my pocket and slapped it down next to her head on the crate, causing her to jump.
"Stay here until I'm gone. Understand?" I said. Even my voice was full of pathos.
She nodded.
I stuffed my faulty member back in my trousers and skulked away, blood tears falling down my pasty cheeks.
I was undone. I was finished.
There was no going back. Avalon was my world. Without her, I was truly nothing.
I couldn't bring myself to tell Cecil what had happened, as I was mortified with embarrassment. Still, it only meant that I was completely in love with Avalon, and there was no shame in love. I kept mostly to my room and instructed him to serve me animal's blood. I fancied that some of my strength returned and discovered that Thomas was donating his own blood to keep me healthy. Good man, Thomas.
The letters to Avalon continued, and I tried not to sound as pathetic as I felt, but I no doubt did. There was never a response.
I didn't even know how much time had passed, but one day, Thomas returned with a reply from Avalon. It was the same day that the newspaper headlines once again screamed of murder.
"It's happening again" was all the note said. That and a time: 7:30.
That evening, I dressed for the first time in weeks. Wearing my very best coat and a silver and black brocade waistcoat, I stepped out to see my beloved. She would see how fine a gentleman I am and she would love me once again.
There waiting for me at the door was Nicholas holding a crucifix out at arm's length.
"Get back foul creature!"
Really?
His stance was quite defensive and his jaw clenched. He had brought friends along, about six, looked like. Two held Thomas back. Passersby began to stare. He was being quite rude.
"What exactly are you doing here, Nicholas? What is the meaning of all this." I turned to face his friends. "Unhand my man."
"Don't," he ordered them without turning around. "I know it's you Arthur. First the coincidences at the party and brothel. Now you've been locked away for all these weeks. You're pale and sickly. Something isn't right with you. Leave it to you, Arthur. Only you would have the temerity to be a vampire."
"Vampire!" I laughed. "Nicholas. You do have quite the imagination, but you are an idiot," I said, grabbing the cross out of his hand. I made sure to move at human speed, which was still too fast for this halfwit. He took several steps back, covering his eyes, until he was in line with the rest of his gang.
I just waited. The people nearby who had been alarmed by Nick's initial actions were now beginning to laugh and point. Nicholas peeked through splayed fingers.
"Why isn't that burning you?" he asked. "I read father's books, and a crucifix should burn the undead."
"It's a trick, sir," one of his lackeys said.
"Rather," I said, tossing it back to him. "Maybe it's because I'm not a vampire, you dolt.
Now unhand my man!"
"Don't believe him, sir. I can see the evil in his eyes," another said.
Nicholas pulled a corked bottle out from his inside coat pocket, uncorked it, and threw it in my face, drenching it and my finest coat.
"Now see here!" I said, feigning insult. After all, that was what a human would do. That, or just punch him. I pulled the handkerchief out of my pocket and dabbed the holy water off my face.
"Oh," Nicholas said. "I guess you're not a vampire after all."
"It's what I've been trying to tell you, you cretin. Now release my man this instant!"
With a nod from Nicholas, his men let Thomas go, who proceeded to punch both of then square on the jaw. Good man, Thomas.
"That's enough, Thomas," I said casually. "We're heading to Baker Street."
"Yes, m'lord," he said, climbing up into the coachman seat.
I pushed myself passed Nicholas, and he apologized, "Sorry 'bout that, ol' chap."
"Don't mention it, ol' boy," I said, patting him on the shoulder. "How are things with Nancy?"
"I gave up on her. You know these girls; they're only worth so much effort. If they don't give it up, there are plenty more who will."
"Best set your sights a little lower next time, my boy," I said, stepping up into the carriage.
"Quite," he said, and then walked away with his men.
Thomas drove me to Avalon's, and I was a little surprised when I first saw her. She looked thinner, her face almost sallow, but she was still my beautiful Avalon. She looked so lovely all in black. She was still in mourning. Her black satin blouse had an adorable large bow, lined with white satin, that tied at the neck. Her sable locks were held back by a black snood, and atop her perfect head sat a grey top hat with a black rim, adorned with black lace. Four black buttons trailed up either side of the hat, and a gold chain draped across the front between the two sets.
The finishing touch: a large black ostrich plume coming off the right side danced in the night air.
Joy filled my being at the sight of her. My love. My all.
Without saying a word, she let me in, and we retreated to Victor's old office for privacy.
What we had to discuss was not to be overheard by other tenants.
Victor's rooms were in shambles. Books had been ripped off the shelves onto the floor.
Papers were scattered all over the desk, table, and floor. Candle wax, hardened into mounds of cascading waterfalls, filled every candlestick, a new, lit candle fused in wax on the tops.
Certainly different than the last time I had seen them, when she was incessantly cleaning and tidying everything again and again. The stages of grief, I suppose.
She sat at the large center table, and I took the chair beside her. She kept her eyes cast down at her hands which were folding a piece of paper over and over again until it was a tiny square, but my eyes never left her sweet face.
"It's happening again," she finally spoke, repeating the words from her note. She unfolded the paper and started folding it again.
"Yes. I saw the newspaper," I said. This was good. At least we're talking.
"You said it was finished." She cast a harsh glance at me, and then quickly returned to folding and unfolding the paper. In that one instant, however, I saw her love for me, but it was still clouded by betrayal and grief and pain. Surely I saw it there.
"It was," I said. "He must've started anew."
"Who? He?" Her anger was rising, she was no longer folding the paper, but rather tearing it into tiny bits.
"Lacy. Frederick Lacy."
Her head snapped up from her task, revelation shone in her eyes as she looked directly into mine. Her intensity caught me by surprise and filled me with the tiniest spark of hope.
"Victor mentioned him. Who is he?" she asked.
"Not sure. I never did follow up with him, I'm ashamed to say"--she broke our gaze--"my attention was so completely consumed by you." I tried to reach out to her hand, but she pulled it away, throwing the decimated paper down and rising from her seat beside me. She walked to the other side of the room wringing her hands in front of her, determined not to let me in.
"It was careless," she managed in a diplomatic tone. She was trying to control her emotions, which was a good thing. It means there are strong emotions that need controlling. Let's just hope those are still emotions of love. "We must discover who this is and what he is doing."
"Of course," I said. "What can I do to help?"
"We must return there--where Victor was attacked." She paused before saying the word
'attacked', as if she couldn't bring herself to say 'killed'.
"Do you think this Lacy lives near there?" I suspected as much myself, but I wanted to keep her talking, to keep the lines of communication open.
"Victor had been taking us somewhere that night. He had been very excited about something he had discovered due to that thing he found at the brothel. He said it looked familiar to him somehow. I've been through all his notes and papers and journals, and I did find mention of a Fredrick from his journals in Romania. Could this be Lacy?" She turned back towards me, excited at putting the pieces together.
"It's possible. He did mention a Fredrick when he told the story of the vampire at sunrise, but he didn't use a surname, nor a title. There was no mention of him being a doctor."
"But it is possible. We should visit this Dr. Lacy tonight." She was determined to get to the bottom of this. She wasn't letting go of Victor's murder, and I wasn't letting go of her.
"If this man is creating these creatures again, and I'm fairly certain he is, then we must take care and be more than a little cautious," I said.
"Agreed. First we must learn as much as we can about this man before confronting him."
"He's a doctor," I said. "He'll need supplies. Let us speak with some suppliers in the area and see what we can learn of him."
"Good idea! There is an apothecary right there in Kensington. Let's start there."
"What of the creature?" I inquired, knowing full well it would be hunting again tonight. Their hunger surpassed even mine.
"Yes. If it was like last time, it will kill again tonight." Her words echoed my thoughts.
"And exponentially from there."
"Perhaps we should split up," she said with a look of pain, which pleased me greatly. She did still love me, and she was worried for my safety!
"We could. Cover more ground. I will go after the creature, as I'd like to keep you out of harm's way if at all possible." Avalon's eyes softened for a moment, but then she looked away, afraid she had betrayed her true feelings. She had. With a smile in my heart, I continued, "You can visit the apothecary and see what you can learn. Do you have today's paper?"
"It's here," she said, pulling out the clipping from beneath a pile of other papers, careful not to look directly at me again.
I had read it when I awoke earlier in the day, but my mind had been so full of lovesick agony, that I didn't pay too much attention. Now that my Avalon was speaking to me again, I could concentrate.
"Lord Thompson Wallace. They do have fine taste, don't they?" I said to Avalon before continuing. I even caught the faintest of smiles flash across her lips. "I'll head over to the Wallace house and see what I can learn. Lord Wallace will likely rise tonight. If they've buried him, he'll be at the cemetery. I will start there this evening."
Avalon turned from me and went over to a chest at the far end of the room. It was secured with a large padlock, for which she had the key on a chain around her neck. The long silver chain held several keys, along with a heart charm. She opened the chest and then stuffed the keys back down into her corset.
"Take this," Avalon said, handing me the crossbow and The Slayer gun she had worn the last time we had been hunting together. I took hold of them, touching her hand with mine as I did so.
I shivered at the touch, and so did she. She did not pull away this time, but rather we stayed there together, holding the weapons between us.
"And you? You should be armed with something," I said softly.
"I'll take the holy water device and some stakes." She pulled free of my touch and turned away, denying herself again. And denying me.
"No, you should have The Slayer gun," I said, offering her Victor's masterpiece revolver, knowing that the holy water could distract them enough to get in a good staking, but I didn't want her getting that up-close-and-personal with these things. I wanted her safe. The only creature that would be biting Avalon would be me.
"I'm not a very good shot with that thing," she said, putting a hand up between us as I moved closer. "Plus, I don't plan on getting close enough to need the stake. The holy water will keep them busy long enough for me to get back into the crowd. After all, we are going out early and it is a Saturday night. There will be plenty people about. Besides, it's unlikely the thing will be in an apothecary shop."
"If you're sure," I said softly, moving closer to her again. She didn't back away, so I reached out to touch her cheek.
"Don't," she said softly, turning her face away.
"Why, my love?" I whispered.
"I can't. When I think of you, I think of that night. That horrible night," she said, pushing past me. I could tell she was crying, as her voice started to break. She cleared her throat and looked back at me, cold as stone. Keeping her eyes averted from mine, she said sternly, "We must not be swayed from our task." And I won't be swayed from you, my dear Avalon.
Without another word, she strapped on the holy water gadget and hid it with her sleeve. A long, black cape hid the stakes. I strapped the holstered Vampire Slayer around my right hip, the extra bullets each in its separate loop along the belt, and held the crossbow, loaded, under my arm. The hatchet, which I carried with me from my home, was still hanging from the back of my belt. All were well hidden beneath my coat.
And then, we left.
I had Thomas take us back to my home in Kensington, from there we'd walk. The carriage ride was a quiet one. She kept her face turned away from me, gazing constantly out the window into the London evening. I, on the other hand, didn't take my eyes off her. When we reached my place, I stepped out of the carriage and offered my hand to assist her. She ignored it, climbing down from the brougham on her own.
"Meet back here in an hour?" she asked, determined to be independent and unattached.
"Better make it two." I knew what I was likely to face at the Wallace's.
She turned from me and proceeded alone toward the apothecary, but my task was in the other direction. I watched her go, trying to shake the feeling that she was in danger. We both were, but I cared little for myself. It was all her. Her black bustle swayed as she walked, and I could see her white spats peeking out from under her skirts as she moved. Much to my surprise, no lascivious thoughts came to mind. It was all pure love. Then something all together unexpected happened. Painfully hollow for weeks, something warm filled my chest. It rushed in, inflating my empty chest like hot air permeating a giant dirigible balloon. It was hope. Yes. That old bastard hope. Dangerous, that. For rarely did things turn out well. But for now, she was back in my life. I didn't even blink until she was out of sight and then quickly made my way to Lord Wallace's home.
I rang the bell at Lord Wallace's, and their butler answered a few moments later.
"Yes?" he asked. He looked down his nose at me, as if his station in life was above mine. He was tall and gaunt, easily in his early seventies. He had seen a long, hard life. Well, as hard a life was as a butler to the wealthy. Could be worse.
"Lord Arthur York to pay his condolences to Lady Wallace," I said bowing and then offered my calling card.
The butler snatched it from me and looked down at it without lowering his head, then his eyes found me again. He didn't say a word, but rather just regarded me with disdain for a few moments. I did have a reputation, as Lady Bainbridge had mentioned, so I could only imagine what he was thinking.
"Lady Wallace is not taking visitors this evening, especially uninvited guests," he said while sliding my calling card into his breast pocket. He, as most butlers to the wealthy, was impeccably dressed. His thinning silver hair complemented the black suit quite well. A handsome man, albeit old.
"Of course. Might I at least inquire about the services? I shall like to pay my respects to the late gentleman. Tomorrow perhaps?" I wasn't going to give up that easily.
"There will be no public services," the butler said tersely, "the family is trying to keep this private. Good evening, sir." He tried to close the door, but I held it open by placing a palm against it. I couldn't enter the premises without an express invitation, but perhaps I could learn more.
"Have they buried the gentleman already?" I asked with aplomb, breaking all pretense of civility and social grace.
"I beg your pardon, sir!" The butler was becoming alarmed, so I couldn't press much further without arousing suspicion of the deed myself.
"Just answer the question, dear man, and I will be on my way," I insisted, as I didn't want to use my diminished energy to glamour him into telling me.
"Yes. They've buried him. What was left to bury," he said, rather dismayed. "Although I don't see how it's any business of yours!"
"Quite," I said. "Thank you. Good evening."
I left the butler standing there, stunned. Speechless. But I had gotten the information I needed. Likely, I should've started at the cemetery, but there wasn't a moment to lose. If his body was still in the house, then everyone there would have been in danger. At least rising from the cemetery, he'd have to find his way to the living. It might just buy me some time.
I arrived at the Wallace family mausoleum but a few minutes later, moving at my natural speed over rooftops and then down into the cemetery. To the casual bystander, I would have appeared from thin air, as it were. Fortunately, cemeteries were usually vacant after dark, especially since the vampire stories started circulating again.
I rethought that statement upon hearing a loud thud followed by gravely masculine voices rising from within the crypt.
"Careful!" a man's voice scolded.
"Sorry, Gov. Jus' rather freaked," another voice said.
I started to descend the steps into the lower chamber, listening.
"The guy is dead, nothing to be afraid of. See? Dead," the first voice said.
As I reached the bottom step, I saw a tall, skinny man holding up the limp arm of Lord Wallace, shaking it to prove his point to a shorter and even skinnier man. They were both filthy and smelled rather bad, even from my distance. That's saying something if their smell trumped that of death and decay. They didn't see me, so I watched from the shadows for a moment.
"I get th' ring," the shorter man said, taking said arm under his own and tugging at a gold ring on his finger.
"Fine, but the pocket watch is mine," the first replied, holding up his find. He smiled wide at his treasure, revealing a snaggletoothed mouth. "Search the body for more."
Grave robbers.
The short man pocketed the ring and started searching the pockets and around the body. The arm he so recently held beneath his own lolled over the side of the tomb. "They really did a num'er on 'im, didn't they, Gov?"
"Yeah. Hurry up," the first said, looking over his shoulder. I flattened myself against the wall with vampire speed, so he didn't see me necessarily, but he must've seen a blur of something. By denying myself human blood for so long, I was truly slower than usual. Probably not as strong either, although Thomas's contributions undoubtedly helped. I heard footsteps slowly coming towards me.
"What's up?" the other said, and then cried out in alarm. A harrowing shriek pierced my ears.
I jumped out to find that Lord Wallace's recently limp arm had become quite strong and had hooked the short man around the neck and was dragging him into the tomb. The taller man was up against the side wall holding the pocket watch to his chest, watching his partner's predicament with horror-filled eyes, frozen in shock. After a quick crunching sound and a red spurt, the coppery, warm smell of blood filled the air, and my mind went foggy. The only thing I could focus on was the blood. The delicious smell of blood. My fangs descended.
The short man flailed for a moment before going limp, and the taller man, over the initial shock, had rushed over to help, but then thought better of it. He turned, and although surprised at seeing me, it didn't halt. He ran right past me up the stairs.
I tried to shake off the prevailing hunger and focus, as Lord Wallace had just thrown the short man off of him and was rising. He came at me. Instinctively I put my right hand out, holding him back, just as I had held open his front door only minutes ago, but he was no weak, elderly, human butler. His strength rivaled my own, nothing like the old and feeble man he had been in life. In fact, his strength was beginning to surpass mine. The fresh blood he had just consumed was making him stronger by the second. He was growling and grabbing at me, but I couldn't grab either the vampire slayer gun or the crossbow without letting him go. I compromised, reaching across the front of my body to take one of the spare wooden bullets out of its leather loop. With as much force as I could muster, I jammed it into his heart. It was enough to distract him for a moment, but it didn't paralyze him. It wasn't deep enough. I stuck my thumb on the back edge of the bullet and thrust it deeper, feeling the wetness of his insides.
He froze.
I removed my hand, and he fell to the floor with a thud. I reached around back for the hatchet, but the blood called to me once again. The short man was dead, but all his blood was not yet spilled. And I was really, really thirsty.
If there are more of these creatures, I will need my strength, I reasoned. Plus, Avalon is back in my life, so there was no need to deny myself human blood anymore. I pushed any thought of Avalon's disapproval out of my mind, justifying it with the fact that I didn't kill this man. And I couldn't deny my own nature forever. I would need my strength to protect Avalon, so it was really for her safety. And before I came up with another reason, I found myself already drinking from the wound.
The blood washed down my throat in bliss. It was as if I had been living in a desert for a hundred years and this was my first taste of water. I drank and drank until the man was dry.
Then, taking the axe, chopped off his head, to ensure he wouldn't be drinking from someone else tomorrow night.
I turned to finish the job on Lord Wallace, but something caught my eye from the stairs. It was Avalon. And she looked horrified. Guiltily wiping the blood from my mouth, I couldn't deny that she had seen it all.
She knew what I was.
I felt her love for me retreat, leaving a gaping hole in my chest, and I ached for her.
She turned and ran back up the stairs.
Dropping the hatchet, I followed. "Avalon," I shouted. "Avalon!" When I reached the top of the stairs, Avalon was in the arms of another man, against her will. He appeared to be nearing fifty, and his age showed in the streaks of grey in his beard and sideburns. He was dressed very well, obviously well-to-do. His arms encircled her, holding her close to him with his black cane held up as a barrier. She was struggling and he was laughing.
"Arthur," she cried once. I felt a strange prick on the back of my neck and blackness filled my senses. Then, there was nothing.
I awoke in darkness, but my eyes quickly adjusted. Taking quick assessment of my situation and surroundings, I found that I was in some kind of stone cell. The mortar outlining the stones appeared a little brighter in the darkness. There was a single source of light, dimly leaking through a window in a heavy door. That was all I could take in for the moment. My head hurt as if it was clamped in a vice, but someone else was here with me. Then the sweetness of her filled my nostrils and overpowered the dampness and stench of rat droppings. There, cowering in the corner, was Avalon. She was crying. I tried to process all this information along with what I remembered.
She knew. She saw.
Then pain. Emptiness. Darkness.
"Avalon?" I said softly.
"You stay away from me!" she cried, hugging the wall.
She was terrified. Of me. But then why wouldn't she be? I had lied to her all this time, but now she knew what I truly was. I felt her horror, as sure as the hard stones against my back. I felt her horror. It was Catherine all over again.
"I won't hurt you, my love," I said gently, but how could I make her understand that after what she saw me do? "I could never hurt you." Regardless of how she felt about me, we were both trapped in this cell. Perhaps I can get her mind off what I am by engaging her help to solve the mystery of how we got here, and where exactly 'here' was. "Do you know where we are sweetheart?"
"Don't call me that! You--you-- monster!"
I had been called much worse in my time, but it never cut as deep as hearing the fear and renewed betrayal in her voice. And all for a few drops of blood.
"You're like them" she said. "You killed Victor!"
"I'm not like them, Ava. I'm different, and you know I didn't kill Victor. You saw what happened with your own eyes. I tried to save him that night. I was fighting on your side. True, I am a vampire, but that's not what they are. They are something unnatural. Something created by man."
"Unnatural!" she almost laughed. I'm sure the subtle difference between what was supernatural and unnatural was lost on her at this moment. Still, I pressed on. I stayed on my side of the cell, so as not to distress her any more than she already was.
"Darling, I am scared, too. But we must understand the situation fully. It's our only chance to survive this and get out of here. Do you understand?"
I saw her nod and then wipe away her tears. She sat up straight against the far wall, flattening herself against it, as if to keep as much distance between us as possible.
"Do you believe that I won't hurt you?"
Hesitantly, she answered, "Yes." She must've been going over and over the events of the last months in her mind, believing that I had many opportunities to hurt her if I chose. Even her aunt, with whom she now knew I had been intimate, was unscathed. That was the first step: ensuring she wasn't afraid of me. We had to work together to get out of this mess.
"Good. What do you remember? Tell me everything from when we parted at my place until I saw you in the cemetery. Why were you there?"
"I followed him. Lacy," she said, but she couldn't look at me. At least she was talking, that was a good start. "The apothecary was closing shortly after I arrived, but there was someone already there. I waited my turn, planning to inquire about Dr. Lacy, but then the clerk addressed the man there as 'Dr. Lacy.' It couldn't have been a coincidence!" She looked up at me in her excitement, but didn't hold my gaze. Rather, she dropped her eyes back down to the stone floor and continued, "He had ordered a pound each of yew needles and gilead buds, which I thought to be quite excessive, and then turned to leave. He tipped his hat to me as he left. I went to the counter, so as not to raise suspicion, but I knew I couldn't waste too much time or I'd lose him. I told the clerk that I must've forgotten my purse, gave my apologies, and quickly left. Fortunately, Dr. Lacy was still in the street, just getting into a hansom. I took the next one and ordered the driver to follow Lacy's cab at a gentle distance. From the window of my cab, I saw Lacy get out of his cab at the cemetery and then proceed inside. I paid the driver, who pulled up within a minute after dropping Lacy off, and then went in after him. I lost him among the tombstones and vaults, but then I came across the Wallace family chamber. I decided to go down quietly to see if he was there, hoping you had been led there as well. But then I saw you--"
She stopped short and gasped. She was crying again.
My dead heart was breaking. I so wanted to comfort her.
"You monster," she whispered.
I so wanted to assure her I wasn't a monster, but we'd both know that was a lie. I tried to take her mind off my state of being and back onto the matter at hand. Surviving.
"After that, Ava. You ran upstairs and..." I urged her on.
She wiped her tears on her sleeve and after composing herself, she continued, "He was there waiting for me. Then I saw Cecil with a syringe."
"Cecil?" Certainly she meant another Cecil.
"Yes, Cecil. Your butler!"
I tried to process this information, but it just didn't make sense. Cecil? Why would Cecil be in the cemetery? Had he followed me?
"I thought he was there with you," she continued, "but I couldn't figure out why he had a syringe. I mean, I suppose all this went through my head. It happened so fast. Before I knew it, Lacy had me restrained and Cecil injected you with something."
"Cecil did this to me? After all the years of service..." My voice faded off. Betrayal wasn't new to me, of course, but each new betrayal stung like it was the first.
I would've been a foolish king.
"You collapsed. They blindfolded me, and then we were here. That's all I remember."
"Cecil," I said again. "I can't believe it." My mind was reeling for clues over the past few months, angry with myself for not seeing it myself. He had been more insolent as of late, but...
Then I remembered the night he was gone. Love, he said, and like a schoolboy in love myself, I believed him.
"Arthur!" she scolded, snapping me out of my self-recrimination. "What are we to do? We're trapped in here!"
She was right. Time for self-loathing later. I tried to stand, but I faltered. The room swam before me, becoming blurry then clear again. Back to blurry. I fell back against the stone floor.
Hard. They had drugged me with something strong, it seemed, and the effects hadn't completely worn off. Perhaps it was the same substance Victor had spoken of. The tranquilizers they had used on that vampire they tortured with the sunrise. Perhaps that would be my fate, too.
Avalon instinctively made a move toward me, but then thought better of it. Still not sure of me.
"Our weapons?" I asked, standing up again, more slowly this time. My head was spinning, and I caught myself against the wall.
"They have them all." She sat now with her back against the wall, hugging her knees. All her fear of me seemed to have subsided for the most part. Perhaps seeing me in a weakened state coupled with the sting of Cecil's betrayal ignited some empathy towards me, for now we were both solely concerned with getting out of this cell.
I felt my way along the cold stone wall, colder than even my skin if I could feel its chill, until I reached a wooden door. I should be able to kick this down if I could get some strength back. I needed more blood, but I wouldn't feed from Avalon, not even if it was the only way to save both our lives. I wouldn't do that to her. I wouldn't make her fear me. There had to be another way. I looked out the tiny window near the top of the door, and through it I saw a laboratory unlike anything I could've ever imagined.
Torches lined the walls spaced about five feet apart, and a large wrought iron chandelier supporting dozens of candles hung from the ceiling. The wax had built up around each black arm, creating ivory mounds of hardened trickles topped with a single point of light. The candles and torches together gave off enough light to brighten the place considerably, although darkness waited along the edges, begging to crawl back in.
The rest was similar to the black magic dens of my original time, but instead of bubbling cauldrons brewing up potions and foulness and herbs drying from the ceiling, this was mechanical and hard. Yet the overall feeling was the same. Three large glass vessels, big enough to hold a full grown man, were at the far end of the laboratory. They were filled with some sort of gelatinous liquid and wires were coming out of the top of each. The liquid moved, as if it was being circulated through a pump. To the right of the vessels were huge gears, similar to those I saw on the dirigible, and they were turning steadily, perhaps circulating the fluid. The front of each glass vessel had a control panel with knobs, dials, and gauges. Two of the three had occupants suspended in the viscous solution. One was a werewolf, trapped in its shifted state; the other appeared to be a human corpse, judging from the decay. I continued to watch, whether out of horror or curiosity I couldn't say, then one of them moved!
"Dear God, they're alive," I said out loud. Or at least animated. Now it was I who was horrified. Were they conscious in there? What was this treacherous man doing?
My eyes scanned the rest of the laboratory. Some sort of steam escaped from a vertical pipe causing a thin piece of hinged metal to bob open and closed at the top of the pipe. An iron platform hung suspended overhead by chains, to the side of the chandelier. In the center were two large tables. On one lay Lord Wallace, still paralyzed. On the other lay our weapons along with other mechanical contraptions. Dr. Lacy was examining our weapons closely and then writing in a leather bound book.
Then I saw Cecil, and my blood boiled. He carried in a tray of tea and sat it beside the doctor.
A growl emerged from deep within, and I wanted to kill and drink and exact revenge in the most painful way possible. I heard a whimper from behind me. I turned back to Avalon, who was crying. My eyes had adjusted enough and my strength was returning. I noticed that she had been misused. How had I not seen it before? Her clothes were torn and dirt smeared her face. I went to her, and she cowered, trying to shrink into the wall. But I would not let her push me away, not if they had violated her.
"I will not hurt you, my love," I repeated. "Did they?"
"They were rough, but I was not ruined," she said, lifting up her torn blouse over her shoulder.
"Where is your cloak?"
"They took it, along with yours, I think."
I spun around, scanning the interior of the cell. Sure enough, mine was gone, too.
"Are you cold?" I asked Avalon, trying to take care of her the best I could under the circumstances.
"I'm fine," she said. Her hands were in a defensive position between us, so I backed off and sat a few feet away from her. Between our grim situation and Avalon's coldness, despair destroyed what little strength had returned.
"To end like this," I said, sinking back into a seated position against the stone wall, feeling defeated. "And you. You're so young."
"How old are you?" she asked. I sensed a hesitation in her voice, as if she wasn't sure she wanted to know. There was no sense in lying. Not anymore. Perhaps this would serve as a deathbed confessional for us both. Perhaps she knew this. Perhaps that was why she'd put her fear of what I am aside. After all, what else was there to do in this cell but to talk?
"Over three hundred," I answered honestly. She gasped, surprised.
"But--you look so..."
"Young," I finished for her. " Still in my late teens when I was turned. Fortunately, I did look a little more mature for my age, but still quite young. Yes. Although in my time, it was not all that young. I was already married, and we were trying to beget children. That was the duty part of it, but we did so joyfully." My mind filled with images of Catherine in her rosy youth, laughing, running, rolling in the grass with me on the royal grounds. She was indeed my queen.
"Tell me," she said softly. A story of my woes to help her forget hers. I can certainly oblige her that.
"Her name was Catherine, and she was the love of my life. I adored her. Believe it or not, I was to be the King of England. I was the eldest son of Henry VII."
She sharply drew in her breath at this. She knew exactly of whom I spoke.
"Arthur Tudor," she said.
"At your service, m'lady," I said, with a flourish of my hand, feigning a proper bow.
Renaissance style. She must've been well read to have even heard of me. Everyone knew my brother, of course. My notorious, fat, smug brother.
"But Catherine, she--"
"She married Henry, yes." She knew her history well. How I loved this woman. So like Catherine. So unlike Catherine. So perfect for me. May she never cease to amaze me. "But we get ahead of ourselves. Catherine and I were so in love. I did play the young braggart with the court. All that nonsense of being 'in Spain,' as only something that immature and crass would survive all these years, but I adored her and she me. That fact has been lost in antiquity. It was actually something quite unheard of for a royal marriage. Normally, it was duty, and love possibly grew over time. Marriage was something that was endured, especially a royal marriage, as my brother made quite clear to the world. But it was not so with Catherine and me. We spent afternoons riding and we'd find a meadow away from everything--court, duty, my father--and make love there. Just the two of us. No pressure. No obligation. Only each other and our love. I suppose we were like many young couples in love, blind to what was around us."
Avalon sat in rapt attention, listening to my story. I had never told anyone this. I had carried it with me for centuries. But my love deserved the whole truth, and it was time for me to unburden myself of this dark weight.
"A sickness was spreading throughout London," I continued, "so the officials of my father's court had me and Catherine whisked away to Wales. After all, I was heir apparent. The future of the country depended on my well being, but it didn't help. We both came down with the fever, and it looked as if we would both die. It was a horrible sickness, killing thousands. Then the night of my own death came. Catherine was asleep next to me; her fever soaked the bed sheets, but I was already feeling cold. I knew death was nigh. It was only out of my great love for her that I did not wake her to say goodbye. She needed her rest if she were to survive. I prayed to God to save her, and in the middle of my prayers, a strange woman entered the room, dressed in all black. I thought her to be the angel of death.
I crossed myself repeatedly as she approached me. I remember trying to act as was expected of a future monarch, fearlessly. Such a foolish child. Yet this woman was beautiful. Unearthly.
Unlike anything I have ever seen. Her skin seemed to glow, and I was certain she was an angel."
Avalon's eyes were wide with interest, but she listened quietly.
"She, as you might've guessed, was no angel. I was too weak to protest when I saw the fangs, let alone fight back. My only thought was of Catherine, but I could do nothing. Paralyzed between my frailty and my horror. She bit me, but not on the neck, on the underside of my arm. I felt so useless, so worthless, my arm hanging loosely above me, as she fed on my blood. I was so feeble," I said, burying my head in my hands. Reliving this night, even after so long, was taking its toll. Every detail came careening back to me with all its torment.
To my great surprise, Avalon moved over to me and put her hand on my shoulder. She was comforting me! She knew I was a monster, yet she was comforting me. Oh, my love!
"Go on," she said tenderly. Her kindness and her love gave me the strength to do so.
"Then, as I lay there on the brink of death, she opened her wrist and let the blood flow into my mouth. I remember that like it was a hazy dream, for I must not have remained conscious for long. The next thing I knew, I awoke in a crypt parched. I had never felt so thirsty in all my days, and I couldn't quite make out what I was doing in a crypt. It was night. They hadn't yet sealed me inside the tomb, so I merely sat up and looked around. I was in a small chantry, surrounded by marble statues and huge windows. Thankfully it was night. I stepped out of the tomb in the center of the ornate, marble room and recognized the inner chapel of Worchester Cathedral. The priests must've sealed my tomb empty the following day, fearing the king's wrath if they had reported my body stolen. I made my way out into the darkness that would become my world.
"I could hear all life around me, and things looked"--I searched for the right word--"surreal. I could see perfectly, although there was no moon that night. I could hear life. The crows in the distance. The nocturnal creatures scrounging for food. Even the rats scurrying in the underlying catacombs. I fancied that I could even hear their hearts beating, and I felt driven to eat. To drink.
To somehow relieve this nagging thirst. I walked on until I came upon the River Severn, and I drank deeply of the water. But no matter how much I drank, the thirst did not diminish. If anything, it was increasing. So I drank more and more, until I became sick. The water was forced back up, like my body was propelling poison out of it. And yet the thirst continued."
"Blood," Avalon said in sympathetic horror.
"Blood," I repeated. "It's always blood. My first meal of my new life was a rat. There were plenty of those around. It was horrible and wonderful all at the same time. But at least its blood satiated me, if only momentarily. For within minutes the hunger returned with more intensity than before."
I turned to Avalon, who was crying softly. Those were tears of grief, and they were for me.
She loved me still. I could see it in her eyes. In her face. In the way her hand stayed on my shoulder, comforting me. She finally understood that it was something I didn't choose.
"The sunlight frightened me, so I kept out of it. I tried to see my Catherine, but she thought me a ghost or a trick of the devil. She was a greatly pious woman and seeing me distressed her.
Frightened her," I said, remembering how the look on her face was so similar to how Avalon looked at me a short while ago. "So I stopped appearing to her. I watched her from afar and survived as I could. I won't bore you with the details, as I've done some truly horrible things in my time. It's my nature, but I never took a human life, no matter how much the thirst, the need, urged me to do so, not until my Catherine betrayed me. Denied me and our union."
I stayed quiet for a moment, remembering. Hating him. Hurting again. Reliving the greatest betrayal of all. Yet Avalon waited patiently. She didn't press me to go on, but she understood my pain. She waited.
"It was my father's doing," I continued. "He intended to marry Catherine himself, to save his political standing with Spain. I wouldn't have that hard old man defiling my beloved Catherine.
The thought of him touching her... of having her..." I pushed those heinous images from my mind and continued, "He was already sick, coughing and showing signs of consumption, so I just sped up the process. In my anger, I killed him without mercy. The blood left on his body led the doctors to believe it was consumption, and so my brother"--I said through clenched teeth--"became Henry VIII that night.
"But I was a new man! My father's blood filled me with power and ecstasy, unlike animal blood. The thirst didn't return as quickly, and I was strong! For a time, I was enamored with my new powers. I explored them. Thoroughly." I felt Avalon tense up, so I didn't elaborate. No sense in drudging up those details. It wouldn't do anyone any good. Ancient history, as it were.
"Still, the treaty father created stood, and Catherine ended up marrying my brother, who had loved her as long as I had. He had fancied her from when he was but a lad. To him, as to me, she was perfection. But he didn't love her long after they married. He cast her aside, shaming her, for other women. Other wives. Well, you know your history."
"Oh, Arthur," she said. I could tell her compassion was at war with the horror she felt in regards to what I had done to survive. I was glad I hadn't further explained my eating habits.
"And that's how I've lived for three-hundred and fifty years. Taking women, food, as I needed. That is, until I met you. At first, you caught my eye because you look so very much like Catherine, but it was all the ways you were unlike her that made me love you. I haven't touched human blood since, well, not until tonight. But I didn't kill that man," I said quickly in my defense. "It had just been so long since I had human blood, that I literally couldn't help myself.
As you said, I am a monster. I am so sorry you had to see that."
She moved closer still and caressed my face.
"Arthur. Thank you for telling me your story."
I leaned my head into her hand, feeling the concern emanating from her.
"So much pain," she said, stroking my hair. "Such a tremendous amount of pain."
"I love you, Ava," I said without looking in her eyes, not wanting to see any sign of horror there. "I've loved you from the moment I met you."
She leaned in close to me, touching her warm nose to my cheek and said, "I love you too.
Despite what you are. Despite what you've done. God help me, but I love you too."
I looked up, surprised. And I saw the last thing I expected. The last thing I deserved. There was no fear in her eyes. No horror. Only love.
She kissed me then, and I lost myself in her.
The warmth of her mouth soothed me, and I didn't care if I died. I kissed her deeper, and she parted her lips willingly, moving closer to me. I held onto her as if my very existence was held in that kiss. Other parts of my body were responding too, but I didn't want to offend this sweet lady.
I desired her, but it was not the lustful desire that so often had filled my senses. It was pure desire. Love. Wanting to be one with her in love rather than lust. It was something I had not felt since I was still human, and that was just a romanticized memory of a memory; but this was real.
We might die tonight, but we would die in each other's arms. Safe. Warm. Complete.
She climbed on top of me there in that cell, and wrapped her legs around me. Her soft warmth covering the entire front of my body contrasted the cold stone against my back. I held her tightly to me, never wanting this moment to end. Losing myself in her kiss. Then she began to lift her skirts.
"Avalon," I whispered into her mouth, not wanting to separate my lips from hers. "Our captors are just out--" She stopped my words with another, deeper kiss. Coming up for air, she breathed, "I don't care. Now. All we have is now."
My love. My all. Here and now. She's right, it was all we have. I lifted her up as I found my way to my knees, holding her against me still, and laid her gently onto the stone. She opened herself up to me willingly, but I was gentle yet. Her hands urged me on, encouraging me to continue, to steal this moment in time with her, and so I did. Releasing myself from my trousers, I eagerly filled her up. She was yet a maid, but she was ready for me. I slid into her gently, and she caught her breath at the new sensation, looking into my eyes with intensity and wonder. I moved slowly, not wanting to hurt her, and soon she found the rhythm with me. I kissed her again and again, rocking into her and catching her moans with my mouth. Moving faster and deeper, I pressed my pelvis tightly to hers as I thrust, massaging the place that would bring her completely to me. She lifted herself up to meet me, giving into the feeling until she came. She bit her lip to keep from screaming out, and I tasted her blood when I kissed her again. I lost all control at the taste of her blood and exploded inside her.
We lay there, breathless in each other's arms, experiencing this wondrous moment. Our moment.
"I love you," I whispered.
"I love you, too," she replied, smiling.
Just then, the door creaked open.
"Well, isn't this interesting?" Cecil said.
I eased myself out of Avalon, who was mortified at being seen in such a position. I whispered, "Stay back and don't look" before getting to my feet. Setting myself to rights, I stepped in between Cecil and Avalon, allowing her to collect herself and to protect her from this Judas. He held a crossbow aimed straight at my heart, and I wouldn't just be paralyzed. I would be dust. He knew it. So, no sudden moves.
"Cecil. Be a good man, and bring me my tea," I said, straightening my collar and smoothing out my waistcoat. I heard Avalon slowly moving to the back wall, and I was glad she had heard my instructions. I was prepared to give my life to keep her safe, but hopefully that wouldn't be necessary. This was Cecil, after all, not all that bright.
"Very funny, m'lord, but there won't be any tea this evening," he said through a smug, crooked grin.
"I don't suppose you would explain to me why?" I asked. I didn't really care, as a betrayal was just that, whatever the reason, but I was stalling. Assessing the situation. Trying to find a way out. Behind him, I could see that Lacy was putting the contraptions aside and preparing a syringe, probably for me. No other opponent was in sight, but I could only see a little over half the laboratory.
"Of course. Money. Power. The usual." There was no emotion or regret or shame in his voice. He spoke as if I had asked him the time or whether or not it was raining. It was just a matter of fact.
"Did I not provide you with your every need?" I inquired.
He laughed at this. A foul belch of barking laughter. "Of course, m'lord," he said condescendingly, "my every need. Now, do come with me. It's not necessary to make this difficult."
I nodded slowly, taking every moment I safely could to stall, then took a step towards him, chancing a quick glance back at Avalon. She was turned mostly against the back wall covering her face. Good.
"Let her go. You don't need her." I spoke in a low, monotone voice, trying my mind powers on him, and he felt it.
"That won't work with me, m'lord. I'm wearing this." He held up a pendant that was made of several moving cogs surrounding a small vial of what I could only assume to be blood. Likely, my blood.
"Interesting gadget, Cecil. Is this how you met the doctor? Your fascination with these gadgets?"
"Yes, m'lord. He made me my wrist guard, enabling your daily dosage with ease."
"Indeed. I must remember to thank the dear doctor for that. And that's my blood, I presume,"
I said, indicating the vial around his neck. "How did you ever obtain that?"
"While you slept, of course. After all, you are quite dead when you sleep, m'lord. The Doctor, he had much grander plans for you, m'lord; but you rather put a wrench in that when you took up with that lot," he said, pointing to Avalon. His eyes were off of me for a second, but that was more than enough time for me. He had given me my opening. I was upon him before he noticed I had moved. With one hand on the crossbow to stop it from crashing to the ground (I didn't want to alert the doctor even a moment sooner than necessary) and the other covering his traitorous mouth to keep him from shouting, I wrenched his head to one side and bit deep, not needing to feed, but rather to kill quickly. A little blood I did take, of course. I needed all the strength I could get for what was ahead. Although making love with Avalon certainly had restored some of my energy, and I am really glad I had that snack back at the cemetery, it wouldn't have been enough for what I was about to face.
The doctor looked up just as Cecil's lifeless body slid to the ground.
Here we go.
"Guess his contraption didn't protect him from that," I said, licking my lips. My eyes fixed hard on the man holding the syringe. He didn't react. Didn't budge. But rather just smiled. "Now, Doctor. What can I do for you?"
"Arthur Tudor. What an honor it is to have royal blood in my home. Indeed!" He picked up one of his blasted contraptions and started polishing it slowly. He was not in the least bit concerned for his safety. He had to know something I didn't. "What can you do for me?" he continued. "Well, my lad, you have already done so much for me! That is, until recently. Now you've become rather a nuisance, destroying all my work, so I'm forced to keep you in closer containment," he said, with a quick glance over at the empty glass vessel.
He meant to keep me suspended in that thing! Of course! He had a werewolf, found a way to animate corpses, and now he needed a vampire on hand! Especially since I had just dismissed his errand boy. He must've seen the horror on my face, because he laughed. Not a maniacal laugh, but a soft chuckle, which had a much more harrowing effect. I remained in the doorway to the cell, assessing the situation.
"Yes! You see, don't you? Smart, you are. I was willing to use your blood remotely, as it were, but now you killed the messenger. To continue my work, you must remain here with me. I assure you, it's not as bad as it looks, to be suspended in there. It's much, much worse."
Again, that soft chuckle.
"And Victor. You knew him?"
I heard Avalon weep behind me, so I reached back, motioning with my hand that it would be all right. Just please keep quiet.
"We studied in Romania together, but his goals were so short-sighted. His and Abe's both.
They only saw a monster to kill, whereas I saw the potential for an unconquerable army. An army I controlled. Once the technology caught up with my vision. Well," he said motioning around his laboratory with great pride, "you can see for yourself."
He put down the contraption he had been absentmindedly polishing then picked up another mechanism from the table and fiddled with one of the dials. An almost imperceptible high-pitched whine filled my ears. Then, as if from the walls, nearly a dozen of his werevamp zombies emerged. I hadn't seen them, as they had been in the part of the laboratory that was blind to me.
But I saw them now, and I was completely outnumbered. More importantly, I wasn't sure how to protect Avalon from all this.
Slamming the cell door shut behind me, I stood between it and the advancing zombies. They were moving curiously slow, and I knew from dealing with them before tonight that they were almost as fast as I was. If I acted quickly enough, I could at least thin their numbers before they progressed too far. A thud against the door distracted me from my soon-to-be attackers. It was Avalon. Her sweet face was pressed against the window, and her face was contorted in despair.
"Arthur," she cried.
"Stand back!" I shouted. She did.
With great speed and more strength, I rammed my elbow back into the wooden door, splintering it, and I had a few serviceable stakes before the zombies got to me, suddenly moving much faster. I staked the two closest to me, and they fell to the floor, paralyzed. I jabbed at a third, but it bit me through to the bone before I drove the stake home. Taking a chunk of my flesh with it, I pushed it to the ground as a fourth and fifth bit into me.
This didn't look good. I looked past them to see the doctor smiling, as if only mildly amused by it all. Momentarily, I wondered if their saliva would turn me into such a thing.
I reached around and broke off more of the door, staking the two chomping on me when a sixth got my free arm from beneath his brother and bit into my hand. I faltered, slipping away from the door and two more descended upon me. Their teeth sank into my shoulder and back.
The pain became all consuming. Everything else--the lab, the chuckling, insane doctor, Avalon--
all fell away. Darkness began filling my peripheral vision, and I knew that it was over. I had failed to save Avalon. She would meet the same horrible fate or worse! She would become one of them.
But then one zombie fell away paralyzed, then another. I couldn't comprehend why at first, through my fading consciousness, but then I understood. It was Avalon's doing! She had come out of the cell and begun to fight, staking those eating me in their backs. The two left turned from me to her, but she got back into the cell, closing the splintered door behind her. The dimwitted things clawed at the hole in the door, trying to reach Avalon.
I had to get up.
I had to help her. Save her.
Then I fancied that some strength returned to me. I tested it and found that I did still have some fight left. I stood up and pushed the remaining three animated zombies away from the door, and they fell over as if they weighed nothing. They got back up to their feet, lunging at me, but I stopped them with ease and pushed them back again. I felt amazing, stronger than I had ever felt before. The zombie on top of the other two got up first and came at me again. I grabbed its head, and with one violent jerk, twisted it completely off. It dusted on the spot. I did the same to the other two in seconds.
The doctor gaped, having seen nothing with his human eyes but a blur of movement followed by three fewer zombies.
"Interesting," he said.
"Yes. Quite," I replied, picking up one of the paralyzed zombies from the floor and twisting its head off as well. I strode arrogantly toward the doctor, dusting off the zombie dust from my hands.
"Stay back," the doctor said, raising a crossbow. He was well prepared. But nothing could stop me now. I could easily reach him before he got off a shot, and just as I had that thought, he fired a hidden gun from beneath the crossbow. The bullet went straight through my stomach.
"Really?" I said to him, disbelieving. "All that study. All those notes. All that research, and you don't yet know that bullets can't hurt me?"
"I wasn't aiming for you," he replied with a smirk.
Realization washed over me and my heart sank as I turned to see Avalon, who had just emerged from the door, shot. Bleeding. Dying.
"NO!" I shouted and rushed back over to her. I crumpled to my knees beside her and gathered her up in my arms. "Avalon?" I asked.
"Arthur," she gurgled through the blood filling her throat.
"Don't speak." A drop of blood hit her cheek, then another. My tears were staining her porcelain face, and I cursed myself for this. I cursed myself for marring such a treasure. I ruined her the day I met her. This was her horrible end because of me.
"Arthur, I love you." She coughed up blood, splattering it over her lips and around her mouth. I kissed her gently, tasting her blood and her love mixed together on her lips.
"Hold on," I said, and I leaned her against the wall, propping her up to ease her breathing.
I stood up and faced the doctor, who had moved closer. I decided at that moment that I would wipe that smug look from his face if it was the last thing I did on this earth. He held the crossbow at near-point blank range and then chuckled, ever so softly. Rage filled my being, and he saw it as well. His eyes widened, and he pulled the trigger, sending the wooden shaft towards my heart.
In one movement without even looking, as if by pure instinct, I snatched the arrow from the air, whipped it around, and stuck it through the doctor's throat. Thrusting my hand into his chest, I pulled out his still beating heart, showed it to him, and then took a huge bite out of it while he watched. He wasn't smiling now. The taste of it was rank, and I spat it out onto his lifeless body and wiped the rest of his foul blood on my sleeve.
I turned back to Avalon, barely still alive. She had to be in indescribable pain. Gathering her up in my arms, she coughed more blood on me. I couldn't lose her. Not now. I couldn't bear existence without her.
"Don't go, my sweet. Please, not now that I've found you," I said to her. I wiped my bloody tears from her face and smoothed back her hair.
"I'm cold, Arthur."
"Oh Avalon. I love you, sweet Avalon." I squeezed her tightly to me. Then a thought occurred to me. I didn't have to lose her. We could be together forever! With my own teeth, I ripped an opening in my wrist and put it up to her mouth. She didn't have the strength to resist or react in any way, but the blood flowed into her. I tilted her head back, hoping it would trickle down her throat on its own. In all these years, I had never turned another, so I wasn't even completely sure how. Just the memory of that dark angel and mythology was all I had to go on.
Then it was finished.
All movement stopped. I heard her heart beat its last, and she drew her last breath.
I held her body for a long while, rocking back and forth and crying silently, for there was no one left to hear my grief. All around me was blood and dust. I let grief consume me, delving into it and finding there was no bottom. I thought of the light in her eyes, now forever dark. I thought of the taste of her lips and their warmth, now forever cold.
Finally, I laid her back down. The grief turned to rage. With my foot, I stomped on the necks of the remaining paralyzed zombies, beheading them into dust with one strike. I ripped the doctor's body to pieces, flinging parts of that monster all over the lab. One of his arms hit the empty glass vessel, breaking it. Gelatinous bile oozed from the broken container all over the lab.
I broke the other two with my fists, feeding my rage and freeing the werewolf. The moon was not full and so he turned back into human form after being severed from the blasted machine. He fell to the floor, unconscious, likely in need of medical attention, if he even could survive such an ordeal. I'd have Thomas send a doctor.
The animated corpse that had been in the second vessel crumpled once again into the sleep of death when it was disengaged from its viscous prison.
I beheaded it. Just in case.
I continued my rampage of grief until the entire laboratory was in shambles. When all the cogs were broken in two. When all the glass was smashed. When all the instruments were bent.
When all the machinery was demolished. I went back to my Avalon and lifted her up in my arms.
I would take my beloved home.
I reached my doorstep just before dawn.
Thomas was there to greet me, and I tried to explain the best I could, albeit briefly. I was far too exhausted to go into much detail, and I certainly didn't want to relive it all.
"Cecil, m'lord?" he said, without judgment one way or the other, just as if confirming a fact.
Good man, Thomas. Professional.
"Yes, Thomas. You'll understand if I keep you under close watch awhile, won't you?"
"Of course, m'lord. And Miss Avalon?"
I looked down at her sweet, still face. Her entire body lay lifeless in my arms, and I wasn't sure what to do. Just mere minutes ago she had been surrounding me with her love, enveloping my body with hers. And now she was so still. So cold.
Just like me.
I hated myself. She was in this position because of me. If I had never come into her life, she and Victor would both still be alive. If I had never lost control with that Haldenby woman, none of this would've happened. If I had seen Cecil for what he was, but I had foolishly trusted him, like I had trusted Catherine. Henry. Father. After all these centuries, I was still a foolish and naïve.
I hugged her more closely to me and rested my cheek on her soft hair.
"She might turn. She might not. I'd like to keep her here for a few days to see if she does." I felt hope spark somewhere deep in the darkness of my mind, but I couldn't allow myself the luxury of hope. For with hope comes the inevitable sorrow. The regret. I've certainly been around long enough to know that, and I couldn't bear any more despair.
For the first time, I no longer feared nothingness.
"And if she does turn," I continued, "I'm not sure what she'll be. I don't think she was bitten by the zombie thing, but I can't be too sure with all that's happened. And it all happened so fast. I was near unconscious for some of it."
"Of course, m'lord," Thomas said, obviously confused by this statement, but he was a good man and didn't press the issue. There will be time for explanations later. "Shall I make up the guest room?"
"No, Thomas. I'll bring her to bed with me. Would you draw a bath? I'm covered in filth, and I have wounds which need attending."
"Of course, m'lord."
"Then you need to send a doctor over to Lacy's. Anonymously, of course. There is a man there in desperate need of medical attention."
"Yes, m'lord."
I took Avalon up to my room and laid her on my bed. I had dreamed of having her in my bed, but not like this. I cursed myself for my lustful, impudent thoughts after I first met Avalon, thinking she was just another conquest. Calling that base whore by her name. I deserved this pain. I deserved this and so much more dolor for what I had done in life. In death.
I was finally getting my due.
The wash basin on the dresser was full of fresh water, and my mind went back to Cecil. He must've filled it before he had left. Had he known what would happen? What had he been thinking? How did I not see his betrayal?
I brought the basin over to the bed and used the water along with a washcloth to wipe the smudged blood and dirt from her beautiful face. When her fair skin was once again clean, I checked her for bite marks. I couldn't shake the dread that she might turn into one of those things. I would have to kill her then, but I knew I could not. I would kill myself first. Perhaps death would collect this debt after all. There were no bite marks on her face, neck or shoulders. I wouldn't undress the lady, not for the world. She deserved her dignity and my utmost respect, but I did take note of each tear in the fabric and concluded that she had not been bitten after all. If she rose, she would be like me. If she didn't, I would be like her. Her hair was in tangles from the fray, so I used my comb to work through it, smoothing out her long, sable locks. Then, laying her head upon a satin pillow, and properly arranging her, I left her there to bathe myself.
The bath water felt warm against my cold skin, although I knew it hadn't been heated. As I lowered myself into the tub, the water became muddled with the dirt and blood that dissolved from my body. Some of that blood was Avalon's. It had been her life force, and now it surrounded me in murky red-brown clouds suspended in water. I sank down, submerging myself completely underwater and remained there for a long time, thinking about the events over the past month. Musing at how my existence had barely changed for over three hundred years and then how so much had changed (and so drastically) in the short span of a month. Time was a funny thing.
I remained there beneath the murky water for a long time. I wasn't sure how long, but finally, when it seemed absurd to be there any longer, I rose from the tub and dried off. All the zombie bites on my hands, arms, and neck had already healed. I donned my night clothes and dressing gown, my mind oblivious to my movements. It was as if someone else dressed me. Every movement seemed forced and aimless at the same time. Walking back to my bedchamber, I felt my feet hit the floor, carrying me across the house. The futility of it all weighed heavy on my ancient shoulders. The insignificance of it all.
Back in my bedchamber, I could see through the shadows cast by the stream of sunlight filtering in from the edges of my dark curtains that the sun was already much higher in the sky. I must've been in the bath several hours, but Avalon was just as I left her.
I traced my hand over her lovely features.
Cold.
Hard.
Mouth closed with her lips forming a perfect "o" directly in the center.
Eyes staring at nothing.
Black hair spread out on the pillow, framing her sweet face.
Hands arranged on her stomach, over the fatal wound.
Dirty, torn skirts covering her legs...
Only a few hours ago we had made love. Her warmth surrounded me. Her breath in my ear. I decided right then that I no longer wanted any other woman. Any lustful decadence would cheapen that beautiful moment with Avalon, perhaps now more dear because it was forever gone.
Then I understood the true meaning of death.
I climbed into bed and curled myself around her, repositioning her to mold against me. And then I slept, holding her.
I did not reawaken until well after midnight, and Avalon was still beside me. Cold.
Unmoving.
I buried my face in the ruffles of her sleeve and wept, staining the dress with more blood. I finally managed to get out of bed sometime around three. The house was quiet.
Thomas was sleeping.
Cecil was gone.
Avalon was dead.
I went into the kitchen and made myself some tea, welcoming the sound of the whistling kettle and the crackle of the fire. Something to fill the void. I drank in silence, then retreated back into my room.
It occurred to me that my life would never be the same. I was forever changed. I was stronger, as somehow the werevamp zombie saliva didn't react with me as it did humans.
Fortunately I didn't seem to take on a werewolf appearance when my fangs descended, thank goodness for the small things, but I did have added strength. Perhaps a stake would no longer dust me, but it's not something I cared to test just yet.
Perhaps if Avalon didn't wake up.
The sun would rise soon, but I wanted no part of light. I slid back into bed next to my beloved and pulled the covers over my head, trapping the darkness all around me, finding comfort in it. And slept again.
This time, it was at dusk I awoke. Thomas was pulling the curtains back, and he had brought me tea. Good man, Thomas.
"Thank you," I said.
"Anything else, m'lord?"
I looked over at Avalon and then back at Thomas. "It's been over twenty-four hours. She may not wake up, Thomas. I suppose we shall have to make burial arrangements."
I remembered my own musings at the ritual of burying something that was no longer that which one loved, an empty vessel, but now it seemed quite important that this particular collection of dead tissue still looked so much like my beloved. My all. My everything. My world.
I would give her body a proper burial. It was the least I could do.
"Of course, m'lord. I will do that first thing in the morning," Thomas said gently.
"Thank you, Thomas. I think I will stay in tonight." For what was there for me outside of these walls? Everything that I am was lying here next to me.
"Of course, m'lord." There was concern in Thomas's face. I probably looked dreadful, as grief does not complement vanity, but I didn't much care.
My world had ended with Avalon.
Thomas stayed a moment longer, but he couldn't find anything else to say. His lanky frame lingered in my doorway, but I had no words for him. For anyone. After some time, he left quietly, closing the door behind him.
I picked up the cup and stirred my tea. I would have to feed soon, I thought. But there would be no joy in it. Perhaps I'd just go out at dawn and be done with it.
"What? No tea for me?"
I whipped around and saw that Avalon had awoken! Her skin glowed exquisitely in the candlelight. Her long, black curls rested on her shoulders, and I dropped my tea in my excitement. I reached over to her, cupped her face in my hands, and kissed her. Her lips were hard and cold... and perfect.
"How do you feel, my love?" I asked.
"Thirsty," she said, then set her flawless mouth in that tiny stone "o."
"Of course," Joy filled my being. I smiled, and I felt the joy shine from my eyes and through my heart. "I am as well. Shall we find someone to drink?"
"By all means," she said and she smiled, too. Her fangs were gleaming and they were normal. No snout. No furrowed brow. No jagged teeth. Just two perfectly pointed canines.
I took her by the hand and led her out of bed. She looked at her torn dress and then back up at me.
"Can I have a new dress, too?"
"You can have whatever you desire, my love."
I took her into my arms and kissed her... forever.
###
Thank you for taking time to read Avalon Revisited. If you enjoyed it, please tell your friends & family about it!
Connect with O. M. Grey online!
Website/Blog: http://omgrey.wordpress.com
Twitter: http://twitter.com/omgrey
Facebook Fan Page: http://tinyurl.com/OMG-FB
O. M. Grey also has two Steampunk short stories available on Kindle: (1) Of Aether and Aeon. Tragedy.
Romance. Time Travel. (2) Zeppelin Dreams. Tragic Romance.
O. M. Grey is the pen name of YA author Christine Rose. For more magical adventure and paranormal romance set in a story appropriate for all ages, read Christine and Ethan Rose's YA crossover series ROWAN OF THE WOOD, winner of the 2009 Indie Excellence award. Currently three books in the series: ROWAN OF THE WOOD, WITCH ON THE WATER, & FIRE OF THE FEY. All available on the KINDLE, also at Smashwords, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, the author's website, and wherever books are sold. http://christinerose.wordpress.com
Discover other titles from Blue Moose Press authors on Smashwords:
https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/rowanofthewood
other blue moose press titles
Rowan of the Wood
Winner of the 2009 Indie Excellence Award
9780981994925 $12.95 trade paperback
978-0-9819949-1-8 KINDLE
After a millennium of imprisonment in his magic wand, an ancient wizard possesses the young boy who released him. When danger is nigh, he emerges from the frightened child to set things right. Both he and the boy try to grasp what has happened to them only to discover a deeper problem. Somehow the wizard's bride from the ancient past has survived and become something evil.
Witch on the Water
Rowan of the Wood: Book Two
9780981994925 $12.95 trade paperback
978-0-9819949-3-2 KINDLE
Cullen thought he had enough trouble surviving school, dealing with his miserable home life, and being possessed by Rowan, a 1400-year-old wizard. But when Rowan's wife, the sadistic vampire Fiana, comes back seeking revenge, Cullen and his band of misfits must do what they can to stop her. This time Cullen's favorite teacher is Fiana's first target.
Fire of the Fey
Rowan of the Wood: Book Three
9780981994963 $12.95 trade paperback
978-0-9819949-9-4 KINDLE
Adventures continue for Cullen Knight and his band of misfits in this third installment of the Rowan of the Wood fantasy series. Still possessed by the wizard Rowan, Cullen settles into his new home with his fire elemental sister, Aidan, and their fey uncle, Moody Marlin. But all is not well. A series of fires raging through the redwoods puts Aidan in the hot seat, as the group looks to her for an explanation.
Maddy's mother discovers a dark and disturbing secret, Ralph and Max are off to a rocky start, and Rex adopts a holy crusade with a mysterious angel as his guide.
Prelude to a Change of Mind
Hidden Lands of Nod: Book One
978-0-9827426-0-0 $9.95 trade paperback
Also available in eBook format via Kindle and Smashwords
Meg Christmas is found sick unto death in a remote mountain camp. Beings out of legend arrive to save her, emerging from an alternate realm where they live in exile. Before the tale is told, it is Meg who must rise to save another. A quiet, intimate adventure, Prelude to a Change of Mind boasts dire peril and brave feats, but also lots of tea with Ekaterina Rigidstick, poems by Jack Plenty, and talks with both about the nature of reality and conditions of being.
Entranscing
Hidden Lands of Nod: Book Two
978-0-9827426-2-4 $9.95 trade paperback
Also available in eBook format via Kindle and Smashwords
The second book in The Hidden Lands of Nod revisits Meg and her friends from the exile realms of the Dvarsh--the metamathemage, Ekaterina Rigidstick, and her cousin, the part-human poet, Jackanapes Plenty--in a vastly different reality twenty years on. Peril and possibility are equally afoot as Meg seeks to resolve lingering issues from her season on the mountain. This fast-moving follow-on to Prelude to a Change of Mind picks up and enlarges the tale of Meg, the Dvarsh, the Thrm, and their collective struggle to save both love and the planet.
All Blue Moose Press titles are also available in Kindle and other eReader versions. For more information on our current titles, as well as other exciting titles on the horizon, visit http://thebluemoosepress.com

