It took me a while to come to my senses but finally I broke away.
“No, this isn’t right,” I said, my voice a hoarse whisper.
She smiled and remained strangely calm at my refusal. “I am not asking you to leave Florence. I am married myself, remember? People have needs, and why should yours go unmet when you are in such a terrible place? Let us give each other comfort.”
She leant in once more but did back away this time when she sensed my unease.
“I am not the kind of man who could do this,” I said, wishing I was. “Especially now that I know there is true evil in the world, I must regain my moral centre. Don’t you see? We know there is a devil, so there must be a God. It is more important than ever to keep on the righteous path.”
“I am sorry,” she said. “I may not share your views of righteousness, but I did not mean to make things worse for you. I take no offence at your rejection, Bram, if you can forgive me for being so forward.”
“I can. I do. If things were different….”
“No need to explain further,” she said, but I could feel her disappointment. Had I led her on all this time? Had she picked up my attraction to her that I thought I was hiding so well?
I left without saying another word, but with another complication my life does not need.
Oscar has arrived with the carriage and we are off to find these monsters who have torn apart our lives.
From the Diary of Oscar Wilde, 19th of January 1880
Getting this all down is important, I suppose. If not as a catharsis for my troubled mind, then at least for history’s sake. When England is overrun by vampires this diary may shed light on the beginning days of the end times.
Earlier I swallowed my pride, choked down my loathing and begged Stoker for his help.
He accepted my apology with all the graciousness I have come to expect from the man – which is to say as much as an irascible old bear would display towards a woodsman who had wandered too close to his den – but, surprisingly, he agreed to assist me in my quest. I am sure he would be the first to admit it was in aid of his own agenda. These creatures have plagued him nearly as much as they have me – though they have stopped short, to my knowledge, of framing him for murder. Joining forces, we might be able to rout them out into the daylight for the world to see.
I had my suspicions regarding where the villains might be, so it was decided we would do some reconnaissance and if that revealed the whereabouts of the creatures we would return to the theatre and garner stronger forces. Apparently, he has accumulated some allies since last we collaborated.
It was a cold and gloomy day, but what little sunlight there was brought me some comfort due to the protection it would afford. This cheering thought was difficult to embrace, however, as en route to the vampires’ lair Bram insisted on driving the carriage himself and does not appear to be that skilled at it. My bottom is purple with bruises from his inability to avoid a single pothole or broken cobblestone.
We parked the carriage and made our way by foot up the long, winding road to Wotton’s Carfax estate. We cautiously scaled the back wall into the topiary garden, far from the view of any windows. We made our way amongst the menagerie of shrubbery sculpted to look like animals of Africa and found cover behind the elephant as Stoker tried to invoke his powers of supernatural observation.
“I am getting nothing with my sixth sense. But I do not believe I have ever detected anything at such a distance, and if they are in the cellar that may interfere as well. Though I was able to track you and that Ruthven fellow to your wine cellar in Dublin, but I had already detected the fiend at that point, so perhaps….” He shook his head and cursed in frustration. “I may as well admit it, I have no idea how this bloody curse works.” With that, he left the safety of the bushes and went to the window.
“Get back here,” I whispered. He ignored me and stuck his big face up to the glass, cupping his hands to see through the glare.
“No, still nothing. I’m going in.”
“What?” I cried in horror. “Are you insane?”
“Why not? Lord Wotton and I are acquaintances.” He was behaving quite recklessly, most out of character for the stodgy curmudgeon I thought I knew and tolerated. Perhaps fatherhood makes one bold.
“Whatever will you say as to why you just happened to stop by?”
“I’ll tell him Irving is inviting him to Tuesday night’s performance.”
And with that, he marched around to the front of the house and rang the bell. I remained hidden and could not hear him talking to the butler, but in a few moments he was led inside.
After what seemed like a fortnight, but was more like a quarter-hour, he emerged unharmed. He left through the front gate, which left me having to scale the wall once more, tearing a perfectly good pair of dove-grey gabardine trousers in the process.
He was waiting for me at the carriage.
“Wotton and most of his servants have left for the country and will not return until late spring,” Stoker said. “The butler would not tell me where they went.”
“Damn,” I said. “So, the trail has gone cold.” It was then I remembered the dilapidated estate adjacent, the one that had Wotton in such consternation the night we met. Hadn’t Derrick mentioned something about Coal and Leech getting the house ready for their master? And now Coal and Leech seemed to be under the control of Wotton. (Well, only Leech now that Coal is dead.)
The road up to the eyesore was almost impassable by carriage. I was growing ever more uneasy as storm clouds darkened the sky. The horse became more agitated the closer we came to the house, finally refusing to continue past the old chapel.
“I guess we walk from here,” Stoker said.
With only fifty feet to the front door, Stoker froze. His eyes glazed over and he held his breath for a moment. “There are vampires in there,” he said. “We should go. We should go now!”
As we turned back there was a whooshing sound behind us. I had barely taken a step when I was struck to the ground!
The world went black.
Sometime later, I fought my way to consciousness. I could hear voices, but my eyes would not open.
“Keep Stoker alive, the Black Bishop needs him for something.” It was Wotton! “Do what you want to the other one.” A door slammed shut and I felt the stem of a hookah pipe forced into my mouth. My nose was pinched closed and I sucked in sweet smoke that pulled me back into sweet sleep.
Later, I am not sure how much later, I was awoken by a cackle, a hideous laugh full of madness and cruelty and anything but joy.
I was in a large bedroom on the biggest feather bed I have ever seen. What was left of my clothing was shredded beyond recognition. On top of me was a very naked female vampire, ample of breast and with long, flowing locks of raven-black hair.
“Wakie, wakie!” She laughed. “Time for fucky, fucky!” She had a thick Eastern European accent. The room was hazy with smoke; my head was swimming and I instantly recognised the smell of opium.
Next to me was a second naked female vampire fornicating with what my intoxicated mind saw as a ginger werewolf. As my brain started to clear I realised it was just Stoker’s excessively hairy body. The vampire was writhing with ecstasy, as was Stoker. I assumed this was due to the opium, as I couldn’t imagine Stoker taking any form of pleasure willingly.
I did my best to avert my eyes, but the room was covered in mirrors that reflected the appalling sight of a gyrating, grunting Stoker everywhere I looked. The vampire on top of him was invisible in the reflection, making the scene all the more revolting. Just Stoker bouncing up and down, his angry member in full view of all.
A third nude female vampire was sitting in a chair near the fireplace, puffing away on a hookah pipe and laughing maniacally.
The one on top of me rolled off. “Dis one smell too much of perfume, and is all floppy,” she
said, jabbing at me with her pointy finger. “Let me take turn on dat one.”
She started pawing at Stoker.
“No! Mine,” the other hissed.
“I am older, you must do vhat I say!”
Stoker’s woman laughed at her. “Your master is my master’s prisoner. You are lucky we let you live, let alone play with our new friends!”
“Your master left us here to starve to death!” She spat and turned back to me. “Fine, I just eat dis one!” She bared her fangs and lunged towards my throat.
“Wait!” I screamed.
She laughed and backed away for a moment. “I like it when they are afraid, it makes da blood sweeter.”
I remembered the violent reaction Count Ruthven had to Stoker’s blood. “Stoker there is a much better meal. Look at how plump and juicy he is,” I said. “Look how pale and weak I am. Hardly a morsel. Besides, I’ve been subsisting on a primarily vegetarian diet recently, while Stoker eats almost nothing but meat – much more appetising, I should think.”
“Mr. Dripp said we aren’t to feed off the hairy one,” the pipe smoker said in a Scottish accent. “Just you.”
“Why do you think he told you that?” I said. “He wants him all to himself.”
Stoker moaned disapprovingly as if he was finally hearing the conversation through his opium haze. He then tried to throw the vampire off him. She slapped him repeatedly across the face and into submission. “Bad boy! Ooh, he is strong! What could a taste of him hurt?”
The two on the bed looked at one another with contempt. They suddenly lunged at Stoker’s throat simultaneously, jaws agape and fangs dripping with saliva. To my horror they bit into him like hungry dogs, greedily lapping up the blood. In their frenzy, they did not seem to find Stoker’s blood immediately disagreeable.
The third vampire flew from her chair and joined in, sinking her fangs into his thigh! What had I done? I tried to pull them off but was thrown across the room with a single blow.
Then, just as all seemed lost, the first two sprang away from him in horror. Their faces contorted in disgust and shock. They fell off the bed and to the floor, choking and gasping.
The third one fell off to the floor as well, vomiting up blood. The first two were crying and screaming, clutching their stomachs in pain.
The pipe smoker must have managed to purge most of the tainted blood for she staggered to her feet and came for me. “You, you poisoned us!” She yanked me to my feet and tossed me across the room once again. I hit a wall and shattered the plaster. I closed my eyes and waited for the final blow.
Suddenly there was a loud cracking sound. I opened my eyes to see her head being bashed in with a chair. The chair shattered on impact, a blow so forceful it took her head clean off. She collapsed to the floor and burst into a pile of dust.
There stood Stoker, completely naked, covered in his own blood. In his hand was what was left of the chair, a single broken leg. His mouth hung open, whether in horror or simply as an after-effect of the opium, I could not say.
The raven-haired vampire was on her feet now and lunging towards him, woozy but enraged and swift. Turning quickly, seeming to operate on pure instinct, he plunged the jagged end of the chair leg into her heart. She exploded with a loud poof into a cloud of dust that enveloped Stoker but quickly settled to the floor.
The other was still writhing in pain on the ground. Stoker knelt down and rammed the makeshift stake into her and she exploded in a burst of gore. He turned to me, his eyes blazing with fury and loathing, and momentarily I feared he was not done wielding the chair leg.
“You…you bastard!” he stammered. Drained of strength and still woozy from the opium smoke and loss of blood, he collapsed against the bed.
“Now, Stoker, in my own defence, I knew they would choke on your blood. Your curse does have its advantages.” He tried to glare at me but his eyes were fluttering closed. I pulled a sheet from the bed and wrapped him in it. He was shivering and just barely staying awake.
“We must get out of here,” I said, pulling the big man to his feet with some effort. It was then I remembered my own nakedness. What little clothes had clung to me before were dislodged when I was flung about.
Stoker looked at my body, not with disgust so much as an indifferent disdain. I lowered him to the bed, hoping he would remain in a sitting position while I looked for something to wear.
“Twice in my life I have seen you naked, Oscar, and that is two times more than one man should have to bear.” I thought, somewhat smugly, I’ll admit, that there are men who would disagree, but said nothing.
I found some clothes in a nearby wardrobe. Fortunately, they were men’s and fit me, although rather snugly. Unfortunately, they were at least five years out of fashion. Well, one must make do in trying times.
“How did my life come to this?” Stoker lamented, looking around the room. “I have fornicated with a demon. I could not become any more depraved than I am now.”
With trousers on, I felt ready to return to my comforting duties and sat beside him. “You must not blame yourself. They have supernatural wiles, and besides, they had you doped with opium.”
“Being doped on opium only adds to my list of failings for the day,” he said. “First Ellen, now this.”
I wondered what had occurred with Ellen but thought it best not to ask at that particular time.
“You saved my life once again and managed to dispatch three vampires. I’d say you have some tick marks in the good column to balance it all out.”
“I would like to think so,” he said. “But I must confess I enjoyed the fornication for a moment as I regained my wits.”
I did not tell him it was more than a moment but shuddered a bit at the memory. There are some sights one simply cannot un-see. Instead, I said, “Why must you constantly fight your nature? Animal instinct, nothing more, and nothing to be ashamed of. Now, I shall find you some clothes and we will get out of here.”
I resumed my search through the wardrobe.
“I suppose you will tell Florence,” he said sullenly.
“Don’t be absurd,” I said. “Why would I do such a thing?”
“If she were to ask you directly, I would not want you to lie for me,” he said sternly. Self-righteous prig.
“I seriously doubt the subject will ever come up. ‘Did my Bram fuck a vampire?’” I chuckled at the thought.
I could not find any clothes that would fit Stoker’s abnormally puffy body. “Nothing here will fit you. I shall search the other rooms.”
I ventured out into the hallway with an oil lamp, only then realising there may be more vampires about. However, my fears were soon quelled as I found the house completely empty.
The house looked as though it hadn’t been lived in for years, but was in remarkably good shape, aside from the cobwebs and layers of dust on everything. A perfectly fitting house for a vampire, I suppose, but I must remember never to hire Mr. Dripp and Mr. Leech to prepare a home for me. Hadn’t Lord Wotton said that this property was to be occupied by an Eastern European count? Both Mr. Dripp and the wretched female vampire that tried to devour me had Eastern accents. Had he come to England for greener pastures only to get into a territorial squabble with the Black Bishop? Survival of the fittest extends to vampires, I reckon, and a naturalist would have a field day studying their behaviour. Or perhaps a supernaturalist.
In another bedroom, I found clothes for Stoker, even more out of date than mine were, I noted with some satisfaction. As I turned to leave I stopped, shocked. Derrick’s portrait was leaning against the wall next to the door. I dropped the clothes and knelt down before it, reaching out to touch the canvas gently. It was like he was in the room with me, his eyes trying to tell me something.
As I gazed at it, Stoker wandered into the room, naked as a newborn babe, his eyes still glazed, clutching the broken, bloody chair leg. He b
umped into the portrait and it fell forwards with a thud.
“I was worried you had found more of them,” he said.
As I rushed to pick up the painting before he could stomp all over it, I noticed a note scrawled on the back in pencil.
Whosoever finds this painting, please deliver to Oscar Wilde, Salisbury Street, London.
Oscar, I hope this painting finds its way back to your possession. The Black Bishop has not given Wotton permission to turn me yet – I think perhaps he is being punished for the scene he created in your home, which was too much of a risk for the Bishop’s taste – so for now, my humanity remains. I shall kill myself before I let him steal my soul, unless I manage to escape first.
Dripp and Leech are now under the employment of Wotton and torment me daily for their own amusement. It is only Lord Wotton that keeps them from eating me outright.
We are to leave in the morning, for I know not where.
For as long as my soul is my own, it belongs to you, Oscar. Please do not try to rescue me. All is lost for me and I do not want you to be lost as well. I could not bear knowing I led to your downfall. With love, Derrick.
My eyes welled with tears and my heart with anger. I vowed then to rescue him, even if it meant plunging a stake into the heart of the devil himself!
Stoker was struggling into the clothes I had found. “What’s that written on the painting?”
“A message from Derrick,” I said, showing him. “I am afraid we are too late.”
“We’ll find him,” Stoker promised.
We returned to our homes, vowing to gather with Stoker’s team to plan our next move. Derrick’s portrait once again hangs above my fireplace. Is it wrong of me to get my hopes up, dear diary? For Derrick is not yet turned, and with Stoker and friends on my side, I feel we just might win the fight against these monsters!
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