by O. M. Grey
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 re
asons.” 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 t
han 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.
Chapter 11
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.