Sherlock Holmes and the Father of Lies

by C J Lutton

  The vampire turned his attention back to Holmes’ throat. My friend’s jugular pulsed with the frantic beats of his heart. The vampire drooled blood down the front of Holmes.

  ”No!” I roared, unlocking my knees.

  Without regard to the consequences, I rushed at Dracula and bowled him over. Thaddeus dove for Dracula's feet, as the vampire, shaking with rage, rose from the floor.

  Dracula hoisted Thaddeus above his head and threw him to the ground. The young man and I scrambled forward, but Holmes reached Dracula first. Holmes plowed his shoulder into the vampire's stomach. I jumped over Holmes’ shoulder and slammed into Dracula’s face. The fiend and I hit the wall with a crash and tumbled to the floor. Holmes scrambled on top of the dazed vampire and punched him violently. Thaddeus joined the fray and pinned Dracula's arms to the floor.

  Dracula squirmed beneath the young man’s weight. The vampire grabbed Thaddeus by the hair and pulled his throat close to the monster’s canine teeth.

  “No!” I screamed, but I was too late. Dracula's fangs sank deeply into Thaddeus’ flesh. As the monster tore a chunk out of the boy’s throat, Thaddeus screamed and fell away. At that very moment, Dracula reared back his head and roared. His face was a mask of madness and confusion, as his lips blistered and smoldered.

  Thaddeus scrambled away from the fight. He fell onto his backside and sat there, bewildered. After wiping his neck with his hand, Thaddeus looked at his blood—smeared palm. Rage consumed the young man. Once again, he threw himself at Dracula. I crawled over and helped Thaddeus.

  The vampire fought wildly, as he felt us pressing his hands to the floor, but our righteous anger was too much for him. Finally, I pinned his right hand flat and watched as Thaddeus pressed his stake against Dracula's palm and raised his mallet. With an unerring fluid arcing motion, the hammer struck its target. The head of the stake nearly vanished into the palm. Dracula screamed, sending blood and spittle against my face.

  Thaddeus chanted unintelligible words and crawled around the other side of the vampire. He grabbed Dracula’s left hand, leaned his weight into it, and pressed it flat.

  ”Hurry, Doctor!” Thaddeus cried, as the blood ran down his neck.

  I pressed the stake against Dracula's palm and lowered my body onto it. The point passed through the creature’s flesh, came out the other side of his hand, and entered the ground. Thaddeus pushed me out of the way. He raised his mallet once more and brought it crashing down, pinning the vampire’s other hand down.

  The smoke poured out of the creature’s hands, and the flesh burned away. Dracula's legs kicked violently. He attempted to sit up, but the stakes held him down.

  Holmes straddled the vampire, sitting on Dracula’s chest. Blood streamed down my friend's neck, because Dracula had somehow managed to claw at Holmes’ throat. The great detective’s eyes were nearly swollen shut. Blood dribbled from his mouth.

  ”Your ridiculous actions cannot kill me!” Dracula howled. ”These pitiful wooden stakes are nothing against my powers!”

  A gasping Holmes smiled down at the heaving monster.

  ”You are right. Those stakes are useless. They are only good for holding you down,” Holmes replied in a voice devoid of all emotion. ”Look! Here are the tools that will bring about your destruction.”

  Holmes held the implements of death up to the vampire's face. Dracula recoiled in horror. His eyes were wide, and his mouth was stretched into a large silent scream.

  ”You're about to pay for every life you've taken, you monster! Vlad, meet the Limb of Death!” Holmes jabbed the stake into Dracula's chest. The vampire's eyes bulged with fear and loathing, as the point slowly burned a hole into his upper body.

  ”No!” Dracula cried, as he tried to squirm away. ”That’s impossible. It cannot exist!”

  Holmes tore away the vampire's shirt to reveal the monster’s sickeningly bruised and collapsed chest. Where the Limb of Death had entered Dracula, black blood crested over the wound. The foul crimson liquid ran in rivulets over his protruding ribs and dripped to the floor. The vampire’s entire body heaved. He struggled to get free, but he was held down by the stakes Thaddeus and I had hammered into his hands.

  Standing over the vampire, I was appalled by the number of scars and punctures that covered the monster’s bare skin. A blur of motion brought me back to the moment. Holmes’ arm flashed by, as he raised the mallet. With a single blow, its horrible purpose drained the life from Dracula’s body.

  ”From the loins of Satan, you were spawned! And it's in hell that you'll spend your eternity! Return no more to this world, Nosferatu!” Holmes roared.

  Dracula trembled at the sound of his true name. He screamed and swore, letting his fury echo off the walls. In his madness, the vampire tried to rip his hands through the stakes. The pain of the impaling caused his feet to dance in the dirt. Holmes walked over and held the monster’s feet down with his own shoes. Dracula's movements became less violent as the life slowly ebbed out of his body.

  Huffing and wheezing, he lay still, while looking up at us. A second of serenity passed over his eyes, before they betrayed his cunning ways. First, he pleaded for mercy. Then he promised us eternal life and powers beyond our imagination. He spoke to us in familiar voices of loved ones long gone. In lilting tones, the words rose and fell in soothing tempo, but the demon was powerless, and his words fell on deaf ears.

  With a final exhalation of breath, his heart surrendered. Holmes lowered his head to the vampire's chest and listened. Unconsciously, Holmes had his hand resting on the floor next to Dracula. Thaddeus and I stood transfixed, watching Holmes’ finger as he beat time with the vampire's expiring heart. Tap, tap, tap went the ghoulish metronome. Raising his finger one more time and stopping on the downstroke, my friend slowly lowered his finger to the floor and kept it there.

  ”Is it over?” I asked.

  Holmes smiled crookedly. His face was badly bruised and beaten.

  ”Not quite,” Holmes replied. He wrapped his hand round the stake and pulled it out of Dracula's chest. The liquid sucking sound it made was sickening. Young Thaddeus turned away in disgust.

  The vampire's fingers twitched after the stake was removed.

  ”Holmes!”

  ”I saw it.”

  ”Hurry! Do it now!”

  With his hands trembling, Holmes moved the stake across the corpse and placed it over the vampire's mouth. As my friend tightened his grip on the bloodied Limb of Death, Dracula roared back to life. He howled thunderously. His languid eyes flared with fire. As we watched, Dracula struggled against the stakes in his hands. A timpani of laughter rose from the vampire as he slowly rose from the floor. He would have floated to the ceiling but his hands were held in place by the wooden stakes. Incredibly, Dracula continued to laugh at the sounds of breaking bones and tearing flesh. With a final, dizzying snap, his hands were torn away at the wrists.

  Thaddeus and I grabbed each other and stumbled over our own feet as we stepped away from the grotesque scene.

  ”Now I'll show you what true powers I have,” the vampire snarled, as he sat up. Raising the gory stumps to his face, he cackled with glee.

  ”Not this time!” Holmes bellowed, running towards the vampire. Our friend raised the Limb of Death over his head in a threatening manner.

  The vampire roared at Holmes. He lifted his arms, waved them menacingly, and tried to ward Holmes off. But the most he could manage was to flail his bloody stumps. Holmes ran straight between them and plunged the stake into Dracula's gaping mouth.

  The vampire gagged. Holmes shoved his forearm under the vampire’s torso, lifting it off the ground so he could thrust the stake in deeper. A second later the mallet’s blow rang out, as Holmes impaled the head of Dracula onto the solid stone wall. Once more, Holmes brought the mallet down and pounded it into Dracula’s head. The stake entered the bone with a terrible cracking sound and exited the back of the vampire’s head. A horrific tear ripped the alabaster skin away and exposed Dracula's
white skull.

  Using his mangled wrists, the vampire beat at the stake. His feet danced off the floor as he tried wriggle loose. After a while, his flesh began to liquefy and run like melting wax. It formed a pool of gore beneath him. Finally, Dracula sagged toward the floor.

  Exhausted, we stared at the vampire in silence. A sudden noise, similar to the cracking of a walnut, pierced the air. Dracula's skull had separated into two pieces, each section looking like a bloodied, overturned turtle. The brain was neatly severed and its grey, wormlike matter oozed out in a sticky puddle of clear fluid.

  Holmes pulled the stake out of the skull. Then, with workmanlike precision, Holmes placed the wooden rod back against the vampire's chest and pounded it.

  On the first strike, the flames of the torches withered down to nothingness. Even so, we were still able to see, because a magnificent light emanated from within Dracula's chest. The illumination was so bright that it lit our surroundings as if it were daylight!

  On the second blow, a violent wind began to rise and fluttered our coats into swelling sails. Pebbles and rock granules pelted our bodies in painful bites.

  ”Die, you vile creature! Die!” Holmes shouted, bringing the mallet down for the third and final time. Dracula's body was shrouded in a shimmering white light. It vibrated like a taut string on a violin when plucked. Then the wind died down.

  The three of us collapsed where we stood, watching the ethereal scene playing out before our eyes.

  ”Look!” shouted Holmes, pointing at the pulsing Limb of Death. ”Here they come!”

  At the crown of the splintered stake, a wisp of a face appeared. The eyes were dull and listless, suggesting centuries of torment. The spirit's teeth chattered, as a silent scream formed in its mouth. Its body, once freed from Dracula, took the shape of an inverted white teardrop. This nearly transparent form rose, swaying to and fro on an unseen current of air. It reminded me of a kite playing in the wind. The white droplet flitted around the chamber, as if a faerie had joined us.

  Suddenly, another spirit rose from the stake. This, too, drifted slowly to the ceiling, joining its mate and awaiting the next spirit to break free.

  The remarkable scene played out countless times, as one by one, they escaped from their hell and rose to join the others. For the first time in centuries, their spirits were free. I felt their touch as they hovered near me, looking into my grinning face with the bashful innocence of children. I experienced a sense of joy, as they whisked by and playfully teased my senses. I became aware of a thousand voices, rising in a chorus of joyous singing. I recalled the words that Holmes had translated from the Latin:

  Then thrice it must be through the heart, once more, until the songs are sung.

  I extended my arms and tilted my head to stare at the ceiling. My heart soared as every part of my body absorbed the resonating voices of the choir of angels who were serenading us.

  Feeling a tingling in my hands, I opened my eyes and watched with great fascination, as the spirits embraced me, coiling their way around my fingers. Through joyous, enraptured eyes, I glanced towards my companions and saw the aura of beautiful white light that surrounded them. It was glorious and exhilarating to be touched by these loving souls.

  ”Look!” said Holmes, pointing all around. ”They've made it! They're all out!”

  I turned my eyes to the smoldering body of Dracula and the Limb of Death. The wooden relic no longer vibrated, as the last of the vampire's captured souls escaped.

  ”They're out,” I whispered, hoarsely. ”They've made it. We've done it! We've done it!”

  Singing a requiem, the haunting voices rose to a ground—shaking crescendo that rocked my body. I listened to the chorale of beautiful angels giving thanks. I watched in awe, as the spirits caressed us and healed our wounds. So enraptured was I in the epiphany, that when I again opened my eyes, I was shocked and disappointed to see that my friends and I were now standing alone. The spirits were gone. And by the looks of confusion on my friends' faces, it was obvious that they, too, were surprised.

  We looked round the chamber, as the torches burst to life. The glow pulsing from Dracula's body ebbed and faded. All that remained of that terrible creature was the scorched outline of his body.

  ”Look,” said Thaddeus. His eyes were wide with wonder, as he pointed to the poles where the bodies had been impaled. The tall pikes were empty!

  I turned to Holmes and noticed that he stared at the ceiling where we had first seen Mycroft. There was nothing in that spot except a strange and beautiful flower growing out of the rock. Shaking his head, Holmes walked over to the coffin. With a mighty heave, he overturned it. The blood—soaked Transylvania soil spilled onto the ground.

  It seemed that our work here was done.

  Proud but tired, my friends and I walked out of the chamber. When we came to the chamber that had been the entrance to Dracula’s castle, we gasped in shock. That, too, was gone. In its place was a pile of rocks and rubble.

  Holmes led the way while Thaddeus and I followed at a distance. When we came to the area where the Cerberuses had attacked us, all that remained of those beasts were piles of smoldering ashes. We stepped over them on our trip to the surface. Thaddeus and I chatted excitedly, while we walked.

  But we came to an abrupt stop when we heard a loud, rumbling sound. We watched in awe as the round stone that once held the souls prisoner, turned on its side and rolled to the entrance of the tunnel. There it stopped. Right before our eyes, the circular stone melted, filling the mouth of the tunnel. Holmes nodded and said, “That’s fitting. Dracula's remains will forever be sealed in this natural tomb.”

  24

  Let There Be Light

  “How do we get back to the surface, Holmes?” I asked. ”Surely, we can't ford the river. The boat is gone.”

  ”Think, Watson. Dracula couldn't trust that his lair would not be found. He had to have an escape route. Besides, how did he get the coffin? He must have transported it. It was too long to fit in that small boat.”

  ”But the vampire could escape by flying whenever it suited him,” I said, seeing the flaw in his reasoning.

  ”Perhaps.”

  We followed Holmes to the edge of the river and traveled its length until we stood at the basin of the falls. The detective climbed on the slippery rocks and sloshed his way over the turbulent waters.

  ”Stay here,” he ordered, above the roar of the falls.

  Feeling his way along, he scrambled up and reached the top, disappearing into the flume that had nearly killed us.

  ”Holmes! Where are you?”

  There was no answer.

  Thaddeus and I ran to the water's edge in search of Holmes, but he was nowhere to be found. My young friend climbed the rocks and looked out over the falls. Shrugging his shoulders with disappointment, he leapt across the water and clung onto a shelf on the other side. Craning his neck, he looked down the other side of the falls.

  ”There he is, Doctor!” Thaddeus shouted, pointing excitedly. ”Mr. Holmes is climbing down the other side.”

  The young man slipped, but quickly recovered and clambered up the rocks, stepping onto a ledge.

  ”Mr. Holmes, can you hear me?” Thaddeus shouted. He listened for a few minutes and then bobbed his head up and down.

  ”We're to wait here, Doctor. He thinks he's found a way out.”

  Thaddeus came back to join me. We sat on the ground and waited nervously for Holmes’ return. Growing impatient, I rose from the ground and walked to the water's edge.

  ”Holmes! Where the devil are you?” I shouted. Looking out over the falls, I saw movement and strained my eyes, peering into the cold mist. Holmes’ figure could be plainly seen as he waved at us, smiling broadly. I watched my friend climb down and come running over.

  ”Holmes, where did you disappear to?” Relieved as I was by his safe return, I was still annoyed.

  ”I've found a way out, I think.”

  ”You think?” I snorted. ”You could
have been killed.”

  ”Nonsense, Watson. It's an easy climb.”

  ”I don't mean your descent under the falls. I meant that whilst you were traipsing about, all I thought of was throttling you when you returned!”

  Holmes helped us with our packs. ”Watson, I'm sorry if I've caused you and Thaddeus to worry, but I think I have found our escape. There's a tunnel under the falls. All we have to do is climb down the other side and enter that way. Follow me.”

  He led the way up the steep, moss—covered rocks. Thaddeus and I followed his every move. Reaching the top, we crouched under the low ceiling and watched as Holmes gestured. He illustrated where we were to place our hands and feet as we crossed the most powerful forces of the river.

  Thaddeus successfully forded the river. When it came my time to cross, I glanced down into the frothy waters and saw the shattered pieces of the boat that had nearly cost us our lives. Surprisingly, the water was shallow and didn't reach the top of my boots, but the footing was still treacherous. I held onto the roof of the tunnel for dear life. Reaching the other side unscathed, I exhaled. Until that moment, I’d been unaware that I was holding my breath the entire time.

  The rocks were slick and difficult to navigate as we climbed down the other side. Uneasy, I would steal a glance to one side and watch the water falling only scant inches away as it raced to the bottom. At last, my feet were back on solid ground, and we stood huddled beneath the thundering canopy of the falls. My body trembled from the cold and tension. I leaned upon a boulder to steady myself and glanced down the tunnel that Holmes had found. After resting for a few minutes, we entered the hole and followed the winding pathway whilst the rumble of the river echoed over our heads. We found ourselves back in the chamber where we had originally found the boat. By mutual agreement, we decided to spend the night and get a fresh start the following day.