Avalon Revisited

by O. M. Grey

  I’ll be visiting Avalon later if possible.”

  “Yes, m’lord.” There was a hint of pride on his face, and I realized I had never praised him before. I had to do so more often. Indeed. He was a good man.

  I continued through the back hallway and into the kitchen. On the left was a large pantry, and descending from the pantry was a ladder that led down into the cellar. It was a large, food storage cellar, but this household obviously didn’t need very much food, so half of it was converted into a chamber for my more dubious diversions. My own chamber of horrors.

  “Cecil?” I called down.

  “Here, m’lord,” he said, appearing at the bottom of the ladder.

  “Good man, here she comes.” I lowered her down, just as before. “Clamp her in tight, and I’ll be there shortly.”

  I still had the hatchet tucked into my belt, but I went back into the kitchen to get a few knives as well. Didn’t know how easily she would talk, but it would be fun to find out.

  I jumped down into the cellar, and a dust cloud of dirt formed around my feet as I landed.

  Cecil had done as I asked again, which shouldn’t come as a surprise, but it did. His behavior had indeed been strange of late.

  The woman-creature in question was securely in place. Her arms and legs were both clasped in iron shackles upon a heavy wooden table. She lay there, still as stone.

  “Will that be all, m’lord?” Cecil said. He seemed rather nervous and anxious to leave.

  Perhaps he was getting skittish in his middle-age.

  “No stomach for it anymore, ol’ boy,” I chided.

  “Not tonight, m’lord. If that will be all.”

  “Yes. Fine. But stay close. I might need you after all.”

  “Of course, m’lord.”

  Cecil scrambled up the ladder and left me alone in the dimly lit cellar with my prey.

  Now to get some answers.

  Grabbing the stake firmly, I gave it a good tug and pulled it out of her chest. She immediately animated, lunging for me, but the shackles kept her in place. As she was struggling, I noticed the chest wound close. Mere seconds. She healed even faster than I do.

  “Interesting,” I said.

  Recognition sparked in her eyes, and she said, “You!”

  “Yes, my dear. It is I. How was your weekend?” At this her struggling increased, frantic she was and determined to reach me.

  “You! You monster! You killed me!” she screeched, her copper locks bouncing against the table as she struggled to get free.

  “That I did, but I guess I didn’t do all that good a job, seeing as how you’re moving about again. Tell me, my dear, why didn’t you stay dead?” She stopped wrestling against her restraints and finally lay still.

  “I had my heart set on revenge. Taking you down, I had hoped.” she snarled.

  “Here I am. Take me down,” I teased.

  She struggled against the iron anew, but the bondage didn’t budge. Given enough time with her supernatural strength, she might wriggle free, so I need make this quick.

  “Who brought you back?” I asked.

  She didn’t speak but rather pursed her lips tightly together and stared up at the ceiling.

  I showed her one of the larger knives from the kitchen, twisting it between my fingers. Her eyes went from the knife to the hatchet stuck in my belt. She tensed against the restraints and tried to break free again.

  “Who brought you back?” I repeated. I think it was clear what I would do if she didn’t answer. She already knew I was capable of that and so much more.

  “Freddie,” she hissed, relaxing against the table again, “And he won’t be happy about your interference. Oh no. He won’t be happy at all!”

  “Freddie?” My brain worked, putting the puzzle pieces together. “Would this be Frederick Lacy by chance?” I asked.

  “That’s Doctor Lacy to you,” she spat at me.

  “So he’s a doctor? What kind of ‘doctor’ is he?”

  She growled at me, and her face began to protrude in the same manner as her husband’s did.

  The beautiful redhead I enjoyed so recently was far from beautiful now. Her brow furrowed and bulged into a harsh ridge above her now sunken yellow eyes. Her eyebrow growing into a huge bushy line across her forehead.

  “A genius,” she snarled, eyes crazy and feral all at once. “A genius that will rule the world!”

  Quite clear, that. She’s insane. She was growling and snapping her considerable jaws at me, her snout much larger than her husband’s had extended. I must’ve cut him off in mid-morph. She truly was a beast unlike which I have ever seen.

  This doctor was obviously insane as well.

  “See this here?” I said, showing the stake to her, shouting over her snarls. “I will stick this right back into your heart unless you give me the information I require. Understand?”

  She didn’t. She just kept snarling and struggling against the restraints until I heard the table splinter. Her hand was at my throat in a flash, causing me to drop the stake. She began squeezing, but I had no breath for her to cut off. Even against my marble flesh, I could feel that her strength matched if not surpassed mine, and she would likely decapitate me with her grip if I let it go on much longer. I grabbed the hatchet from my belt and swung, taking the arm off at the elbow. She shrieked, and so did I. Her hand was still grasped around my throat and still squeezing! I managed to get it off with some difficulty, but by the time my attention turned back to Lady Haldenby, her other hand was free. I flung one of the knives I had brought from the kitchen at her, and it landed square in her eye, distracting her for a moment, long enough for me to pick up the dropped stake. Hurling another knife allowed me the distraction to access her heart, and I drove the stake in once again. Paralyzed anew. A mad dog in heat, frozen. Without further hesitation, I took her head off, killing her for the second time. The pile of dust on my table told me she’d stay dead.

  It had been a busy week.

  Chapter 17

  After a quick change into something not covered in blood, I decided to visit the brothel again, hoping they hadn’t yet removed the bodies. This had all gone too far. Whoever this Lacy fellow was, I would ensure that he did not succeed in this insanity. As far as we knew, all those things are now dead, but I had to make sure about the two girls murdered tonight. Make sure they wouldn’t rise again.

  Moving quickly through town, I ran across the rooftops or kept to the shadows down on street level, for it was late enough now that there were scarcely any people left out and about.

  Any strange sight by a random bystander would be explained by excessive alcohol at this late hour. I arrived back in Gray’s Inn in but a few minutes’ time. The scene was much as I had left it hours ago, but with fewer police. I no longer had my disguise, so I had to use glamour, preferably to just slip by them unnoticed. I wrapped my face up in a scarf and pulled my hat down low, just in case.

  Do not see me. I repeated over and over in my mind, transmitting my will upon them as I approached. It worked, as I walked right through them and into the brothel without so much as a sideways glance. Coppers were easy, especially when they were already distracted. Slipping past the inspector, who was taking notes and talking to one of the constables, I moved into the back, where the first girl was. She was still there beneath the bloody sheet. I pulled the sheet back and looked at the body, lying supine. Amazing that she’d ever come back with so much damage. Her throat was virtually nonexistent. Most of the meat was gone; I could see straight back to the spine. Still, I would have to stop this madness first, and then I could tend to my beloved. Out of curiosity, I looked further down the body, barely a woman. She was but a girl. Perhaps there was a kindness in her dying, not like this, of course, but she couldn’t have chosen this life. There were egregious rumors about Madame Jeffries after all. So many young girls had been enslaved by that vile woman. Yes, this indeed was a better fate than to be used so. Even with the horrific way she died. The girl’s torso w
as a mass of dried blood and ribbons of shredded skin. Whoever did this, likely Lady Haldenby or that other whore, must’ve been quite angry.

  Or hungry.

  There was no way this girl would rise again. It would be agony for her with these wounds, even with quick healing, too much was gone. Then again, I didn’t know much about these monsters, so I had better take the safe road.

  “This way,” I heard a man say as a door closed down the hallway. I had to be quick. I snatched the hatchet from my belt and in one stoke did the deed. After covering her back up, I flattened myself against the dingy wall by the door and began repeating my mantra: Do not see me.

  “The first one is here. You know what to do. Cause of death is obvious, but I’ll still do full examination back at my laboratory,” the same voice said as three men walked in. The leader carried a black leather medical bag; he was presumably the medical examiner. They went straight over to the girl. I slipped out behind them and into where the next girl lay, two doors down. As I entered her room, I heard the doctor exclaim, “Dear God! Who would do such a thing?”

  Another voice ordered, “Quick, check the other body.”

  I had to work quickly.. Without taking care, I tore the sheet off and beheaded her. She wasn’t as ripped up as the other, so reanimation seemed much more possible. I turned to leave just as the men entered the room.

  They saw me standing there with my hatchet, and they rushed toward me shouting, but before they reached me I was gone, out the back door, and halfway down Gray’s Inn Road. To them, it would have looked as though I just disappeared before their eyes. Let them try to explain that to their superiors. But now, unfortunately, they have a suspect. At least height and build, as they couldn’t see my face. Sometimes paranoia pays off.

  Once far enough from the brothel, down a particularly dark alleyway, I unwrapped my face and walked back into the street at a normal pace, coming out into the light of the gas street lamps. Within the hour, I had reached Baker Street. As I approached Avalon’s, I focused all my attention on the inside of her house, and I felt pain. I heard sobbing. Most of her tenants were asleep, but Avalon wasn’t. She was crying, alone. How could I get in to be with her and comfort her without waking her lodgers? Let her know that it’s over, that I took care of it? Once in, how could I be secure come dawn, which was only a few hours away?

  There was a faint flickering light coming from the second story window. Victor’s office. That had to be where Avalon was grieving. I so wanted to be with her, ease her pain. I could, of course, just have leaped up there, but how would I explain that to Avalon? I decided to play it safe, so I gathered up some pebbles from the street and began tossing them against her window.

  After about the sixth one, she came to the window and saw me. She opened the balcony doors and stepped outside. Her face was puffy and red, and her voice cracked when she spoke.

  “What are you doing here, Arthur? Go home,” she said, barely above a whisper.

  “I needed to know you were safe.”

  “Just dandy, now please leave me alone.” She began to go back inside.

  “Wait.” She did, turning back to me. “It’s done.”

  “What’s done?” she said, sounding overtired. She pulled her hands over her sweet face, rubbing her swollen, bloodshot eyes.

  “All of it. I got the rest. No more will rise.”

  “And Victor?” She looked at me with apprehension through her exhaustion.

  “He won’t rise either,” I said, shifting my weight uncomfortably from leg to leg and then looking down at my feet. I didn’t want to give her details. I didn’t want to see the realization on her face when she understood what I had done.

  “Where is he?”

  “Same place.”

  “You left him there?” Her exasperated anger took me by surprise. She had gone from defeated to wrathful in an instant.

  “I--” ... didn’t know what to say.

  “Bury him, Arthur!” she said, as if it was the obvious course of action. I guess to a human, it was. “He deserves at least that. Show some damned respect.” She went inside and shut the balcony door a little too hard.

  I stood there in the street. Like a dimwitted school boy, I waited. Not knowing what to do next. It was as if she believed all this was my fault. It did, of course, start with one of my kills, but that was where my involvement ended. I threw the last few pebbles I had up to her window, urging her to come back outside, but she didn’t. After a moment, I saw the light go out, and I knew that was it for the night. She had been on the verge of giving herself to me, and now this.

  Turning to leave, I thought for a moment that I may have lost her for good, and a pitiful cry gurgled up from my core and stuck in my throat. I would do anything to keep her, anything.

  Burying Victor was the least I could do for her. For my love.

  Ah yes, love. This was truly love. Now I remembered.

  The full agony of love filled my being. Not the euphoric feeling of the beginning. Not shouting from the treetops love. The excitement of the chase. The anticipation of possibilities.

  That wasn’t love. This was love. This agony. This suffering. This sinking feeling in my chest.

  Feeling unable to live without her. Knowing I could not live without her. Knowing I would do anything for her, even if it led to my own ruin, for I was nothing without her. Feeling what she feels. Happy only when she’s happy. Desperation. Pure pathos. I felt nauseous. Sick. Empty and gorged at the same time.

  Yes. This was love.

  Then, as if on cue, it started to rain. One could always count on London for rain. I listened to it hit the cobblestones, and it played the symphony of my breaking heart. The water filled the crevices between the cobblestones quickly, and the tinny sound of the large drops hitting the newly formed puddles filled my ears, but it did not fill my heart. My dead, shriveled, empty, breaking heart.

  Sweet Avalon, had I lost her? Something between us had shifted. Was it just her grief, or had Victor’s death killed our chance at love?

  I rushed back to my home and roused Thomas out of bed. Good man, Thomas. He didn’t even question the time or the matter. He just did his duty. Day or night. He drove me back to the scene of Victor’s attack. Victor brought us here for a reason, which means that Lacy’s rooms had to be very close to this alley. But there wasn’t time for that confrontation tonight. Although, he probably had been clipped by all his creations being destroyed. It could be a good time for an attack, especially if he starts the creation process again. But that hopefully would take time. After all, my only concern was Avalon’s well-being.

  Hidden by the shadows of the bloodstained alley, I gathered up Victor’s corpse and head, wrapping them in a sheet. When I was done, I climbed back into the carriage with the bloody bundle that so recently held life. I had Thomas take me to the Brompton Cemetery. Once there, I put Victor’s wrapped body parts over my shoulder and set out again in the rain. As I sloshed through the overgrown graveyard, lightning struck. A rare sight in London, that. Rain, no.

  Lightning and thunder, quite rare. It was as if the earth was showing its sorrow for the loss of this good man. Or perhaps the gods were angry, if there were such things. Unlikely. Not in a world such as this.

  As I neared Lord Haldenby’s sepulcher, lightning lit up the grey sky, briefly illuminating a huge, dead tree to the right. Its naked branches reached toward me like death itself, but it couldn’t have me yet.

  I took Victor’s remains from the sheet and laid him to rest in Lord Haldenby’s tomb, arranging him for a proper burial. It seemed fitting. I situated the broken lid over him. It didn’t quite seal him in, but it would do for now. I would have a new one made for him tomorrow.

  Avalon was right. He was a good man, as far as humans go, and he loved Avalon.

  We had that in common.

  I saw Victor’s face through the crack. Death. What a frightening prospect. I had obviously seen a lot of death in my time, caused most of what I had seen, but it re
mains a mystery. This corpse that looked like Victor wasn’t Victor. Victor was gone. Perhaps completely ceased to exist. Perhaps in another state of existence. Perhaps being reborn somewhere. Whatever the truth, he was no longer here. This vessel that contained him was now just necrotic tissue. Lifeless. Still, people felt the need to visit these dead cells and talk to them, pour their heart out to them. Felt the need to honor it with burial.

  I don’t understand it. I never did.

  All the ceremony had to be more for the living than the dead. A way to cope, perhaps. If there was consciousness after death, that consciousness likely doesn’t care what happens to its former form. It would be like a snake being sentimental about its shed skin. The snake had already moved on.

  I could smell dawn approaching. I rushed back to the carriage, and Thomas drove me home at top speed. We arrived just before dawn. Seeing Avalon would have to wait until this evening.

  With every cell in my own lifeless form, my entire being and centuries of existence that went along with it, I hoped she would be all right.

  Chapter 18

  Under strict instructions, Cecil sent word to Avalon first thing in the morning that Victor was peacefully resting in Brompton, hoping it would ease her suffering a little.

  I slept through most of the next day, albeit restlessly, and I was out the door the moment the sun set. Thomas was waiting at the door. He knew me too well. He drove me over to Avalon’s while I rehearsed what I was going to say. I have never been too good at dealing with the grieving. Watching Catherine suffer Henry’s rejection and the humiliation that followed made me wish I had stayed dead. Still, I hadn’t been able to talk to her, so I couldn’t have said the wrong thing.

  This was a completely different situation. What can one say that will ease the pain of loss?

  The wrong words would increase suffering, and the right words won’t change the loss itself.