This ailment from which I suffer does have life-extending properties, but its other symptoms are such that I would prefer to be cured.
Please contact me if you have any thoughts on how such a cure might be possible.
Also, I see by this correspondence that Sundry sent you a map you had requested to certain locations in the American desert, specifically in the Nevada territory. May I enquire as to what was contained on the map?
Forgive me if I am too bold or asking you to betray confidences. However, Reverend Wilkins and I shared similar interests and I would be forever grateful if you would assist me in developing those interests further.
Sincerely,
Henry Irving
Letter from Florence Stoker to Ellen Terry, date unknown
Dear Miss Terry,
Oh, to be a free spirit such as yourself! To throw all care to the wind and follow one’s baser instincts; how freeing it must be. Necessary for your craft perhaps, or merely a character flaw; it matters not to me.
Leaving a trail of broken hearts and illegitimate children behind seems not to bother you, for you are always looking forward, a trait I can admire from a distance but not when it strays so close to me and mine.
Having almost lost my son and husband to monsters has given me a fresh perspective. We all lead such petty little lives that we try to fill with drama to keep ourselves distracted from the mundanity of it all. I forgive you your transgressions, I honestly do. I can understand how being so close to death would drive you to seek Bram’s love.
I am partly to blame for pushing Bram away. I was having difficulty adjusting to married life and envied his ‘glamourous’ life in the theatre. I feel childish and foolish for not appreciating what I had. One day I will return to the stage with a new understanding of life and I hope it makes me a better actress.
All has healed now. We all get a fresh start. It is time for you to move on to your next conquest. I hope you find what it is you are looking for, but I assure you it is not my husband.
With best wishes,
Florence Stoker
Letter from Bram Stoker to Ellen Terry, date unknown
Ellen,
Florence knows. I have confessed all. And yet she forgives me all my transgressions. This, along with the good Lord saving my life (even if at the hands of Oscar Wilde!), has given me a second chance at the life I had planned for myself and my family. A life I cannot refuse a second time.
I am sorry.
I will forever be grateful for your concern and affection in my time of need. If you wish to never speak to me, except in theatre matters, I shall understand, but I am and will always be your friend.
Florence says she also forgives you and I believe she does. She wanted me to tell you that you and I have been in a war. The spectre of war causes people to do things not in their nature, or perhaps because of it. In any event, she would step aside. It was up to me to choose.
I choose her and hope you will understand.
A part of me dies today.
Forever in your debt,
Bram Stoker
One thing alone we lack. Our souls, indeed,
Have fiercer hunger than the body’s need.
Ah, happy they that look in loving eyes.
The harsh world round them fades.
In the sweetest music bids their souls rejoice
And wakes an echo there that never dies.
Letter from Ellen Terry to Bram Stoker, date unknown
Dear Bram,
I cannot say I am not disappointed and heartbroken in your decision, but I do understand and bear you no ill will.
I have told Henry that I need some time off to tend to personal matters.
One must keep up appearances and it is time I return home to my husband for a while.
It has been ages since I have seen my children, and I will visit them as well if their father will let me. I shall return next year to the theatre, for I cannot be away from it for long. My husband has agreed to move to London so I can continue my career.
Farewell for now, Bram. I send my best wishes to Florence and Noel. They are very fortunate to have you.
Sincerely,
Ellen
From the Diary of Oscar Wilde, 3rd of September 1880
Dear yours truly,
I am glad to be done with monster hunting and am turning my attentions to a new horror: the terrible artistic tastes of my countrymen. I have written some essays on aesthetics that the Strand has taken an interest in publishing.
I must say it is quite nice to make a living again, but it is keeping me very busy and I haven’t much time for a social life.
I have visited Frank in the sanatorium and he is making good progress. The doctors tell me he will be getting out soon. He seems fine to me, although he has taken to calling himself ‘Jack’, which I find to be a horrid nickname. The doctors say it is all part of rejecting his old self for a new one or some such nonsense. However, if that is the only scar he bears from what he has witnessed, I will be happy to live with it.
I haven’t seen much of Stoker and Florrie, which I suppose is just as well. We all are trying to put the horrible Black Bishop episode behind us and I am sure socialising would do little to help with that. Still, I am surprised to find that I miss them – both of them.
I was entertaining the notion of writing it all down, as I think it would make a riveting tale. I would fictionalise it, of course, as I would not want others to think me even more mad than they do now.
But this notion has been quashed by something called the White Worm Society if you can believe it, dear diary. An ‘operative’ named Miss D’Aurora called upon me the other day.
“We are a clandestine scientific society charged by the Queen to keep the world safe from those things that go bump in the night,” she explained over tea. “As a literary man, you may want to publish your accounts of what took place at Stonehenge, but we, and your Queen, are respectfully asking you not to. Our main objective is to keep the doors between our world and the Realm closed. Any knowledge that these doors exist, and particularly any instructions on how to open them, must be suppressed at all costs.”
When the Queen asks one to do – or not do – something, it is understood that it is not actually a request, so I agreed and gave my promise never to speak of the matter to the public. (She does not know about you, dear diary, and I shall not tell her.)
“We have told Mr. Stoker and the others the same thing and they too kindly agreed to keep the secret,” she said. “Also, we would like to extend to you an invitation to join our society.”
I tactfully refused any official membership. “I am often on thin ice with polite society. I am sure the same thing would eventually happen should I join yours. However, I will keep my eyes and ears open as I mingle with the masses. Should I discover anything out of the ordinary – a monster here, a madman there – I will be sure to let you know.”
“We would be grateful,” she said, then took her leave.
I shan’t tell them of Willie’s affliction, of course. Aside from a recent incident with no harm done we have that all under control.
I stopped by the Lyceum a few days later and asked Stoker if he had joined the White Worms.
“Good God, no! I am trying my best to forget all that has happened. I have no desire to attend meetings where monsters are discussed at length.”
“You don’t have the itch to pen a novel?” I asked him.
“I make a vow this very day to never write or speak of vampires again,” he said, crossing his heart.
“That might be difficult,” I said, “considering you work for one.”
“Indeed,” he sighed.
Memo from Henry Irving to Theatre
DATE: 12 October 1880
FROM: Henry Irving
TO: Please post this for
the entire company to read, and distribute as necessary.
Travel! It broadens one’s horizons. I would like to take this time to announce we are going on tour. Not Europe this time, but a whole new continent!
Next summer we shall tour America. I hope to start in Boston and make our way across the country all the way to the Pacific Ocean. Dates are not yet set, but we shall perform in many cities, even bringing a touch of civilisation – dare I say art? – to the Wild West.
More details will be forthcoming. Until then, see Mr. Stoker with any questions.
Letter to Bram Stoker from Oscar Wilde, 1st of March 1881
Dear Bram,
Now that I have made England safe from vampires, I think I can leave it in your capable hands for a time.
My lectures on aesthetics have become so popular that I am taking the show on the road. I have been invited to tour America and will be out of the country for at least half a year.
The timing is poor on my part. Perhaps you read about me and a certain Constance Lloyd in the gossip columns. (I certainly hope so; I went to great lengths to put us there.) But alas, I must leave to make my way in the world and have no time to settle down, though I surprisingly find that I wish to. A man is not complete until he is married, then he is finished.
When one leaves for the wild places of the world, one’s mind turns to thoughts of mortality. In case I am stricken with smallpox or am scalped by Red Indians, I want you to know that I hold you in high regard and am forever in your debt.
If I make you the subject of jest it is only because I feel inferior to you in some ways. (Small ways.) (There, I did it again.) Truly, Bram, I strive to be a better man because of your influence and guidance.
My mind often turns to the horrible events of last year: the deaths of Derrick and Dr. Hesselius weigh heavily upon me. However, I also think of more positive things. I discovered I could be brave when required. (Though I do hope it will never be required again. It is quite exhausting.) And I value the friendships I formed in the mystery of the hunt and the heat of battle, none more so than yours.
Give Florrie and Noel a hug from me.
I shall forever be your friend and confidant.
Yours truly,
O.W.
P.S.
Remember to enjoy yourself from time to time. I think God owes you a little sin in exchange for saving all of mankind. And you can tell him I said so.
P.P.S.
Shave off the beard.
Letter from Bram Stoker to Oscar Wilde, 2nd of March 1881
Dear Oscar,
This is an astounding coincidence: someone else will have to protect England from the forces of darkness for I, too, will be travelling to America soon. The entire Lyceum company will be touring Canada and the United States.
I am looking forward to expanding my horizons with travel, but not to the logistics involved in moving forty-some actors and stagehands – plus assorted sets, props and costumes – across the Atlantic, nor to arranging lodgings, trains and stagecoaches across the continent.
It should be a ripping adventure and not the supernatural kind to which we are accustomed. Florence and Noel are coming with me, although Florence refuses to go west of the Mississippi River for fear of bandits and savages. Henry has promised to cast her in some of the productions, so I am sure that will be enough to lure her into the Wild West.
It will be pleasant to get away from England and from the harassment of the White Worm Society. They continue to pester me to join their ranks and use my ‘powers’ to help their cause. It seems they acquired some of my blood at Stonehenge and find it ‘most intriguing’.
The curse has not visited me since that awful night. I think it may have passed. Or perhaps, even better, evil supernatural elements are no longer among us. Captain Burton has been rounding them up from what I am told. Either way, I am not an eager recruit for the likes of the White Worms.
I was touched by your last letter. I must admit I am not a man who is good at expressing his feelings, but I shall try. I am the one who should be grateful, Oscar. You saved my life that night at Stonehenge, at a great risk to your own. And it was not the first time.
As troubled as I am by the events that took place, they have given me a new perspective on life. I would like to think I appreciate it more and want to be grateful to God for all he has given me. We have gained a valuable insight, Oscar. We know there must be a God, for we know hell and creatures from it exist. Conversely, heaven must exist. This is not knowledge I will squander. I have redoubled my efforts to be a good husband, father, son and friend.
So, it is with great humility that I call you my friend, Oscar. If I seem exasperated with you at times it is only because you possess so much potential. I do not wish to see you waste it pursuing the fleeting things in life. I know, I have done it myself to much regret.
I envy you because you are much more worldly and educated than I. I am jealous of your razor-sharp wit and your comfort in talking with people in all walks of life. But I promise you, I will no longer let these petty feelings get in the way of our friendship.
I hope our paths cross in America. I know it is a big place and we will be running in different circles, but fate has brought us together against all odds before and I feel it will do so again.
Sincerely,
Bram
P.S. Stop wearing clothes made of velvet. It is the fabric of seat cushions and curtains; it was never meant to be fashioned into a suit.
Letter from Theodore Roosevelt to Robert Roosevelt, 15th of March 1881
Dear Uncle,
You must return to America at once.
Why, you ask?
Vampires! Filthy, stinking vampires!
I learned about their existence here in America a few months back. I was asked by President Hayes to discreetly look into rumors of a Mormon uprising in Utah and made my way out West.
I met up with a mountain man they call ‘Liver-Eating Johnson’. (An explanation of his name I will not put forth here.) He claims he was attacked by a group of vampires in the Colorado territory, and only his skills at scalping saved his life.
“They just kept coming,” he told me. “I had to hack their heads clean off to stop ’em. I took out four on one night, then two more that jumped me the next night. I would show you the scalps but they turned to slime in my hands.”
The cowboys with me that day laughed it off as the ravings of a madman, but I think we know better.
As I traveled on to San Francisco, I heard more tales of such attacks. One would think we are up to our hips in the wretched things.
In one of his first acts in office, President Garfield has asked me to stay in the West and look into the matter, now that my investigation of the Mormons is done.
Is it at all possible you could meet me in St. Louis, Missouri? I know it is a long journey, but I fear the worst. Now that you are a bona fide vampire hunter, I want to put you to good use.
Theodore
Archivist’s Afterword
This concludes the collection of Bram Stoker and Oscar Wilde’s involvement in the Greystones and Black Bishop incidents.
For additional material pertaining to Mr. Stoker and Mr. Wilde, see the collections The California Incident and The Amazon Affair.
While both men kept their promises to not reveal any information that could lead to the opening of the portals between worlds, they each incorporated their experiences into their writing. For Mr. Stoker see Dracula and The Lair of the White Worm. For Mr. Wilde see The Picture of Dorian Gray.
All books of fiction were cleared by the White Worm Society before their publication.
–Foster Giles, Head Archivist for the White Worm Society, 1938.
Acknowledgements
A million thanks to the Blue Moon Writer’s Group: Anna Cherry, Denise D’Aurora and Rob Hubbard. Without your ins
ight, support and encouragement we would have never pushed through to the end.
Thanks also to Jane Gferer for the proofreading, to Brent Mitchell for being our first reader, to the Minnesota Speculative Fiction Writers for help with the second draft, to Deborah Meghnagi Bailey for invaluable editing advice, and to the supportive community of the Horror Writers Association.
About this book
This is a FLAME TREE PRESS BOOK
Text copyright © 2019 Steven Hopstaken & Melissa Prusi
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
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Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Thanks to the Flame Tree Press team, including: Taylor Bentley, Frances Bodiam, Federica Ciaravella, Don D’Auria, Chris Herbert, Matteo Middlemiss, Josie Mitchell, Mike Spender, Will Rough, Cat Taylor, Maria Tissot, Nick Wells, Gillian Whitaker. The cover is created by Flame Tree Studio with thanks to Nik Keevil and Shutterstock.com.
FLAME TREE PRESS is an imprint of Flame Tree Publishing Ltd. flametreepublishing.com. A copy of the CIP data for this book is available from the British Library and the Library of Congress.
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