by Lucas Thorn
“Four.”
“Close enough. Soon be five hundred, eh?”
Now it was nine.
Soon to be ten.
And his heart was hammering in his chest like it was his first.
He’d faced a mind-bender once before. Her voice had licked the inside of his brain. Coiled around his cortex like a snake. Made him wild with lusts he had to work hard to control.
She’d made promises.
So many promises.
And when he somehow managed to fight them off, she went berserk.
He’d rushed into her tomb with three men. Lazlo, Fuller, and Drake. Three good men with a lot of experience between them. Thought it’d be enough.
He’d come out alone.
Drake hadn’t been able to fight off her magic. Completely under her spell, he’d killed Lazlo from behind. Slit Fuller’s throat while the other man was struggling against the vampire’s pull.
Max put the bullet through Drake’s head himself.
He frowned as he remembered that awful night.
Wesley tapped Max’s shoulder as Everett finished picking the lock. “Get ready.”
Max nodded in response. Said softly so only Wesley could hear; “I wish Sloper was here.”
“Sloper weren’t sent away. He fell to her. The Doctor told me.”
“Yeah.” And that’s what he’d not been able to stop thinking about.
Sloper had fallen to this vampire.
Betrayed Van Helsing.
The power this vampire must have to break a spirit like Sloper’s? A man so filled with hate for the undead that he’d slaughter an army which got in his way.
He looked to Everett and Charlie. Said; “Be careful.”
“Always are,” Everett whispered. “Ain’t we, Charlie?”
“Yeah. Always.”
And they went in, swinging door open fast to avoid any sound of creaking hinge. Stepped quickly into the empty hall and shuffled up against the stairs. Backs to the wood. Thrilled grins as the expected violence didn’t come.
Instead, silence greeted them.
Unearthly and heavy.
Broken only by a soft tinkle of metal as Charlie pulled out some cuffs. Silver-plated iron with crosses etched deep.
“What the fuck is that for?” Wesley asked, eyes slitting. “You ain’t thinking of nabbing her? Are you mad?”
“We’ve got our orders,” Everett said. “And if we can bring her in, Lord Salisbury will pay triple. And that’s a lot. You can have a bite of the old cherry if you want, lads. Just help us loop these around her wrists and that’s all we’ll need, right?”
Max shook his head. “You should have told us before,” he said.
“Weren’t time.”
“Should have made time. I’m guessing you haven’t ever faced a real vampire before. They’re not human. They’re strong. And their magic is-”
“Magic,” Everett scoffed. “Pull the other one. I’ve seen enough magic in the halls to know what it’s all about. Just tricks. Now, look. I expected that nonsense from those old bastards out there. But not from you. Don’t disappoint us, mate.”
“I’ve destroyed enough vampires to know what you’re trying is close to impossible,” Max said. “You don’t understand. And if you don’t listen to us, you’ll get yourselves killed. Or worse.”
“Worse?” Charlie tried a brave grin. “What’s worse than killed?”
“The fact you have to ask that question is why we’re just now thinking about walking back outside,” Wesley said, resting his shotgun over his shoulder.
“Also, the fact we’re standing here arguing in a vampire’s lair isn’t doing any good,” Max whispered. “It’s clear you don’t know what you’re doing. Shit. I never took you for fools.”
“Fools?” Everett’s face turned ugly. “We ain’t the fools! Why, we’re-”
And the basement door opened.
A shadow moved.
So did Everett, who swung only his torso. Pulled the revolver from its holster inside his coat. Aimed.
Cocked.
And fired in one smooth motion to blow the top of Constable Douglas Smith’s head all over the door frame.
“Christ,” Charlie said into the utter silence echoing after the shot. “It’s a fucking bluebottle.”
Max was first to move, snatching Wesley’s coat and crashing into the wall behind the stairs even as the dining room was yanked open and two officers came scrambling out.
The first hit by Everett’s shot.
The second landed on his side and jerked at the hammer of his revolver before sending a slug blast into Charlie’s gut, slightly off centre.
Charlie dropped with a harsh grunt, struggling to draw a revolver from his belt.
Didn’t need to fire, because Everett let his third bullet rip through the policeman’s forehead. Glistening red matter pasted the wall.
Just as the front door was kicked open to reveal over a dozen police with rifles.
Front row kneeling in front of the rest.
Muzzles aimed.
“Oh, shit,” Charlie managed to gasp.
From the backyard, Max could hear laughter. A shriek.
And knew then that the house was a trap.
Should have known before.
Had instead allowed the humiliation of Jonathan Harker to fill him with a cocky sense of smug ease. “Christ.”
He pulled Wesley down behind the stairs as every policeman outside pulled a trigger and sent shot after shot exploding through the doorway. Almost every bullet finding flesh.
Everett spun in tight circles, his body riddled with holes. Blood spitting across the walls with every shuddering impact.
Charlie’s head seemed to implode before the back of his skull coughed loose across the hallway, spilling chunks of brain and a river of blood. His body collapsed into a fragile heap, losing the aura of tough strength he’d seemed to carry deep inside his bones.
“Bastards,” Everett snarled, squinting through gunsmoke. Staggered sideways, returning fire with awkward jerks of his arm. Blood pumping from a dozen wounds.
Wesley pressed hard against the wall under the stairs. “Well, Max,” he said. Spat at Charlie’s corpse. Thumbed the hammers of his shotgun. “Was nice working with you.”
“Wesley…”
“I ain’t getting hanged, Max. It’s a bastard of a way to die.”
Max blinked. Suddenly afraid. His brain sweated every thought until he reached and grabbed the other man’s hand. Squeezed. “It’s been an honour to fight with you.”
Wesley’s eyes were wet.
“You back there,” one of the policemen shouted. “We know you’re there. Throw down your weapons and come out. Come out quick and you won’t be harmed.”
“Ah,” Wesley spat again. Raised his voice; “You’re a lying pack of useless wankers!”
And then threw himself into the hallway. Pulled both triggers, filling the house with the shotgun’s defiant roar. Max jumped out behind him, his shoulder slamming into the opposite wall as he fired blindly through a curtain of gunsmoke over Wesley’s shoulder.
Saw the officers dive for cover. More than one fell writhing as buckshot bit deep.
His other hand grabbed Wesley by the coat and began dragging him back.
Back to the door and the promise of escape.
Sound of multiple guns cocking.
Metal scrape.
Then a torrent of screaming death exploded into the house.
Wesley took the first bullet in his thigh. Which dropped him to his knee. “Go, Max,” he moaned, shrugging free of Max’s grip. Then lurched painfully to his feet and spread his arms wide. A living shield ready to soak every buzzing punch of lead. “Go on and destroy the bitch!”
Max paused only long enough for the first bullets to slap into Wesley’s flesh. Each drilling so deep the man must surely feel them in his soul. But Wesley still stood there.
Solid.
Unyielding.
Absorbing e
very shot.
Max turned and ran.
Scooted out the door and darted right. Over the fence, with the sound of gunshots dying as his boots hit the next yard.
He kept going. Frantic, coat flapping.
A young constable with a little revolver stood shocked in front of him.
“Hey-”
Max shot him in the chest with his last bullet and kept running.
Tossed the empty revolver down as he hopped the next fence. Then turned again. Left. Lost count of the fences or the shouts from behind. Sharp whistles filled the air. Shrieking alarms.
He landed hard on cobblestones.
Twisted.
Flashed out into the fog, sprinting into a lane where he crashed through a line of bins. Stink of putrid remains blended with the echo of gunsmoke and blood.
His vision blurred as he struggled to push the sound of bullets hitting Wesley from his mind.
The man had saved his life.
Wesley was a hero. He’d killed more than six vampires on his own. Shouldn’t that count for something? He wasn’t a criminal. He hadn’t deserved to be gunned down like one.
He was just doing what the bluebottles should be doing.
Protecting the innocent.
Bloody Everett.
Bloody Charlie.
And bloody Lord Salisbury, too.
Why did they want Lucy alive? What possible use was a living vampire? She was a monster. A monster to be destroyed. What could Lord Salisbury want with her?
“Oh, Christ,” he moaned as he erupted into an empty street. “He wants to fucking become one.”
It was the only answer which made sense.
Salisbury wanted to be like Dracula.
The fool.
His lungs were burning. Legs numb. Shoulders pinpoints of fire.
He slowed, realising he was lost. The murky fog which had worked to obscure his escape had also left him confused and disoriented.
He’d need to find a place to hide. Hide until morning.
The police hadn’t seen him. Never saw his face. In the morning, they wouldn’t know who they were looking for.
He’d be safe.
“Shit,” he said. Thinking of Salisbury. Van Helsing. Sloper. Dracula. Too much. His mind was a hive filled with bees.
Wesley. His best friend.
Only friend.
Vertigo made his head spin wildly.
He stopped. Put a hand to steady himself against a laneway wall.
And vomited.
The sickly acrid taste burned his throat.
And he couldn’t stop.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
The majestic building was capped with two spires. It had the look of a house whose spirit had crawled from the darkest depths of Hell before oozing into every square inch of masonry.
The large gothic windows didn’t look like windows. They looked like sheets of onyx.
Cosmic pupils staring with unearthly malevolence.
Two arching wooden doors were gnashed shut against the wind. Painted white and gleaming in the dark, they waited with a smothering sense of dread and anticipation that Harker expected a scream to be let loose when opened.
He didn’t like the place.
Not at all.
Van Helsing stood beside him as the policeman led his charges into the building. Doctor Seward might have looked back but gave no sign he knew they were there.
“Do you think he saw us?”
“Yes,” Van Helsing said. “And he did well not to reveal that fact. We should never mistake his blind emotion for utter foolishness. He’s a good man. And it’s because of him that we’ve found her true lair. She is here, Jonathan. In this place. She’s been very clever, I think. The townhouse was a trap all along.”
“I wonder what she’s doing. It seems rather too much for her as a home, don’t you think?”
“It isn’t a home, Jonathan.” The old man pointed curtly to a sign he hadn’t noticed.
The Westenra Foundling Hospital.
“An orphanage?” Harker frowned. “Now, that is unlike her.”
“Not anymore,” Van Helsing said. “It’s worse than you think. Vampires, Jonathan, find the blood of children to be irresistible. They would prefer it to the blood of men. This is no charity home. It’s a farm.”
“Farming Children?” He suddenly felt ill. “That’s abhorrent. Abraham, we have to stop it.”
“We will. Come. We have to find a way inside.”
They went quickly up the wide cobblestone path. Didn’t feel a need to hide as there was no lighting other than the meagre shafts of moonlight trying to pierce the fog. The building itself appeared empty.
“Might as well try the front door first,” Harker said, forcing calm into his voice. A calm he didn’t feel. Not in his belly.
“Be careful!”
He nodded but took the handle and turned it without hesitation.
Winced at the metallic creak. Not loud enough to announce their presence, but it was loud enough to make his heart leap ahead a few extra beats.
Whispered; “It’s not locked.”
Van Helsing put a hand on top of his. The old man’s eyes glittered dangerously. “We are entering her lair,” he said. “You must be alert at all times. Remember, she has the power to twist a man’s mind. You must control yourself, Jonathan. You’re still young. Still a man with passion and reckless impulses. Suppress them! Lock them away and do not let them be the leverage she uses against you. Keep a sharp mind and clear head at all times. I cannot stress this enough.”
“Don’t worry about me,” he said. Pulled the revolver from his pocket. Opened the door and stepped inside. “I can deal with Lucy. I know her, Abraham. Quite well, actually. I know how to deal with her type.”
A wide staircase spiralled out of the dark like a grooved tongue. Made more unsettling by the crimson rug sprawled across the foot of the stairs like a pool of blood. A single gas lamp flickered on the wall beside the door.
To both his left and right, hallways ran the length of the building. Each shrouded in murky gloom. One room either side of the stairs. Doors gleaming like white bone.
Shut.
“Which way do you think they went?” he asked.
“I’m not sure.” Van Helsing winced. “We may need to split up. We must find her before she has a chance to flee.”
“Listen. What’s that?” He dropped into a crouch, half-closing his eyes as he concentrated on the sound. Gun in hand, muzzle pointed to the ground. “Why, it’s a woman.”
Muffled sobs from beyond the closest door. He took a few steps and shook off Van Helsing’s restraining hand.
“Jonathan,” the old man hissed. “Be careful. I told you. A vampire’s lair is a dangerous place. We shouldn’t allow ourselves to be distracted. We must focus on our mission, remember?”
“I know. And I will. You know I will. But if there’s a chance we save any of her victims along the way, then I do think we should try.”
Harker crept to the door and gently pushed it open.
His eyes widened in shock as he saw the young woman strapped to a bed. She struggled against the wide leather bonds but wouldn’t be getting free without help. When she saw the two men, her eyes widened and she began to scream through the gag.
“Oh Lord,” Harker croaked. “Abraham, help me. Quickly.”
“You know her?”
“Of course I do.” He pounced on the buckles, wrenching them loose. Outrage giving his fingers a dose of nimble strength. “It’s Polly.”
“Lucy’s maid?”
The woman writhed as he pulled the last strap free. Then his hand went to her mouth, and he leaned in close. “Listen to me, Polly. I’m going to take the gag out, but you must keep your voice down. Do you understand? You must be very quiet or they’ll hear you.”
She nodded, tears of terror streaming down her cheeks.
As soon as he pulled the gag, she threw herself into his arms, flinging her own around his neck as she sob
bed into his chest. “Oh, George,” she wept. “George! I can’t believe it’s you. I was so afraid. You were right! She’s not human, George. She’s a monster. I saw her. She killed a policeman. I watched her bite his neck. And then she… She drank his blood!”
“Polly,” he soothed, holding her close. “It’ll be alright now. You’ll see. We’ve come to end her evil once and for all. You don’t need to be frightened anymore, I swear.”
“George?” Abraham’s tongue slipped across the name. “We must go. Now. We have to find Lucy.”
“Yes, Abraham, I know. One moment.”
“We don’t have a moment.” The old man took Polly’s face in his hands and turned it up towards his own. “Polly, is it?”
“Yes.” Her voice was small. Delicate. Afraid. Lips quivering as she tried to pull her gaze from his. Something she couldn’t do. She was captured by his intensity and could only tremble under his touch.
“My name is Professor Abraham Van Helsing. I am a hunter of these creatures, and I need to know where Lucy is. Do you know where she is?”
“I think so.”
“Could you take us there?”
“What?” Her eyes nearly shot from their sockets. Red with tears. “No! No, I couldn’t. I couldn’t go there. Oh, George, don’t let him take me. She’s evil, George. Frightfully evil. I can’t bear to see her again. Please take me away!”
“I will, Polly.” Harker said. Smiling kindly. Tone expressing infinite calm. A parent to an hysterical child. “But we do need to know where she is if we’re to deal with her. You know that, don’t you? You won’t be safe until we’ve put an end to it all. To her. So, please tell us. Is she upstairs?”
“Downstairs. She’s in the cellar.” Polly shuddered. “She has a coffin she sleeps in. Please, George. Don’t leave me alone. They’ll come back for me. They said they would.”
“Who was going to come for you?”
“I don’t know their names. There was a man dressed as a policeman, and he had some horrible people with him. The little girl, George! Oh, she was the worst. They’re crazy, George. Completely out of their minds. And they said they’d do terrible things. Utterly terrible things. Please. Get me out of here. Don’t leave me. And don’t go into the cellar! You haven’t seen what she is.”
Harker looked to Van Helsing, whose face shifted from impatience to sympathy and back again within an instant. “We must go,” he said. “If we don’t, Lucy’s reign of terror will never end. What she’s done here in Whitechapel, she’ll do all over London. Then England. Perhaps, given time, even the world. Polly, we have to destroy her. This may be our only opportunity.”