The Victorian Vampire

by Nick James

The blonde laughed. ‘Well, I plan to be, but he went on a mission a couple of weeks ago and I haven’t heard anything since.’ She placed her hands on the cabinet and stared at the photo and then at a stuffed horse’s head on the wall. ‘Is that the bloody horse from the photo?’

  ‘Oh yes, Gran’ma was kicked by it, so she ran in here and picked up the sword,’ Suzie explained and pointed to the sword mounted underneath the head. ‘And then she ran off and killed the bloody thing.’ Suzie wiped her eyes. ‘Albert had to pay the owner loads of money to save Gran.’

  Veronica looked at her sharply. ‘Albert, don’t you mean his father…Nathaniel?’ she probed and saw the girl freeze, but she recovered very quickly.

  ‘Oh yeah, but I was told everyone called him Albert, that was his middle name,’ the brunette said quickly, although her face looked a bit panicky and she couldn’t hold the other woman’s eye for a second.

  ‘I think we need to talk, Suzie. I have a lot of questions,’ Veronica said firmly with a stern face. She saw hesitation on shop girl’s face. ‘Do you have a bottle?’

  Suzanne sighed. ‘Yeah, we are drinkers, it’s the family legacy,’ she replied as she walked past Veronica and locked the door, slamming the locking bolts top and bottom before putting up the closed sign. ‘C’mon then, I have a bottle of Albert’s rum – comes from Nelson’s ship, it does.’ She opened up the shop counter and waved Veronica through to the sitting room behind a curtain. They were both sat on the sofa at opposite ends as they sipped the potent brew.

  ‘Blimey, did this kill Nelson?’ The blonde laughed.

  The brunette didn’t respond at first, she just drank the booze.

  ‘So, what’s going on with the captain?’ Veronica asked.

  Suzie downed her drink. ‘Firstly, I talked to his friends who got him the army gig,’ she said and refilled her glass. ‘They checked with their sources and…Albert’s plane was shot down,’ she said with tears starting to stream down her face.

  Veronica gasped and put her hand to her face. ‘Is he dead?’

  ‘They aren’t sure. They won’t go into any kind of details with me, though.’ Suzie sobbed and blew her nose into a hanky. ‘But he will be okay, he’s a stayer, and he likes you,’ she added, although deep down her heart missed his touch.

  ‘I like him a lot, too, but there are things that don’t add up. The pictures in his house of his mum and dad. He said that he looks like his dad, but I found a picture of Nathanial Morris; and yes they do a bit, but not that much,’ Veronica explained with ideas swirling around her mind. ‘If I’m right, the man we know is over seventy but looks our age!’

  Suzie paled, realising this girl was way too quick. ‘Well, it’s not really my story to tell, but since he might not be coming back, perhaps I should explain. Although, if you repeat this to anyone else, they would lock you up and throw away the key.’ She guffawed loudly and threw back another glass of rum. ‘Well, it all started with that bastard Jack the Ripper…’ She slumped further down the sofa all warm and drunkenly.

  Veronica walked back home with a million feelings and thoughts running through her mind. The rum didn’t help either, especially as she wasn’t much of a drinker. As much as the night was fun talking to Suzie, Veronica could guess that there was more than just friendship between Albert and this Suzanne. But not for a while, maybe.

  Somehow, the tipsy blonde made her way home safely, amongst the echoes of bombs landing in other parts of the city and the sky flashing as war was waged thousands of feet above the ground where man and machine duelled to their bloody deaths. She entered her doorway and headed up the stairs towards her flat where she soon found herself slumped in an armchair. The world was spinning slightly.

  She tried to sort through her feelings for Albert. It had been such a long time since she had felt drawn to a man, and she found herself falling for him, big time. She kicked off her heels and hung her alcohol-scented dress so she could have a quick wash before bed. Just then, there was a knock on her door.

  ‘Who’s that?’ she mumbled, hurriedly tying a silk robe around herself that a woman at work had sold her. She moved to the front door. ‘Who is it?’ she asked and put her hand on the door to either open it or force it shut; a single woman could not be too careful these days.

  ‘Veronica, it’s me,’ a male voice replied. A male voice that her alcohol-addled mind slightly recognised.

  She disengaged the lock and opened it, not caring a jot now who was behind it. Her eyes tried to focus on the man. Her eyes then widened; her pulse raced. ‘Albert?’

  He sported a small smile. ‘That’s me. Sorry it took me a while to get back,’ Albert started to apologise, but he was quickly silenced by Veronica’s lips and tongue as they kissed.

  Their passion grew, the door was slammed behind them, and then her back was pressed against the door and her legs wrapped around his waist.

  Feeling each other’s passion, her hands freed him from the confines of his trousers, she felt her underwear torn away, and then they were one. He carried her towards her bed to continue their act of desire and lust. Her breasts spilled out allowing him to kiss her softness, making her moan with pleasure, and then they locked eyes.

  ‘I missed you, Mr Captain,’ she whispered, and they continued their act of love again, until sleep claimed them both. All thoughts of the conversation with Suzanne lost…for now.

  As the sun breached through the threadbare curtains that adorned her bedroom window, she stood above her now lover. What happened last night? In all her years she had never acted with such abandonment. She combed out her hair with her eyes locked on his sleeping form. At her dressing table she wrote a short note and laid it on the pillow next to his lightly snoring head. With a faint smile Veronica left to go on a slow but thoughtful walk to see what conclusions her brain would draw from the night.

  Chapter 10

  I woke with a start. It was the first decent sleep since I had left that accursed mission; getting back was just a series of life and death events. After the debrief I did as I was told and came straight over to see Veronica – and see her I did, what a bloody night. A smile crept over my face and I scanned the room, then I closed my eyes and let my senses reach out. She was not here. That’s when I jumped up and saw a piece of paper float gently to the ground. With my quickness, I snagged it even before it settled on the worn carpet. ‘Oh shit,’ I said as I read the note.

  My dearest Albert

  I have missed you so much that it hurt, especially as I didn’t know how to find out how you were. Since our fantastic date together several things didn’t add up for me, and as you weren’t here I went all Miss Sherlock Holmes on you.

  Your parents are Nathanial and Anne Morris, who adopted another boy and told people he was their son. I’m sure there is a story there somewhere. But after finding pictures of your father, I know now that you have secrets, Mr Captain, although we are all allowed some.

  But, my Albert, your age is not what it should be. You look the same age as me even though you were born in 1868. How can that be?

  I visited a friend of yours, Suzie, and we chatted and drank as we were both worried about you going missing while on operations. As we talked, I told her of my thoughts and feelings about you, and she grudgingly told me about your history, and your gift from the Ripper.

  After the night of my life I had to leave you. No, it wasn’t a mistake, but I let my heart and wants overtake me, which is normally the male issue, not the female. Please make yourself at home till darkness comes, then you can leave safely.

  I know this has happened to you before, but please be patient with me and wait for me to come to you, my darling. I promise it won’t be long.

  Lots of love

  Veronica xxx

  I smiled at the letter, folded it and placed it in my wallet. My smile broadened as I saw a small photo of her that she had placed inside with a lipstick imprint on it. I dressed and sat in the armchair reading the paper she had left for me.

  The
sun had finally gone down. The Nazis had bombed London again, and would most probably do so again tonight. I opened the door to the flat. With a look back, I headed out into the night with only one address in mind.

  ‘Hey, Suzie!’ I shouted out as I opened the door and found myself slammed back into the door by the force of the brunette’s hug. ‘Miss me much?’

  She pushed me away. ‘Where the fuck have you been?’ Suzie snapped and slapped me on the chest repeatedly. She then grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the back room, then she ran over to lock the shop door once again. She was almost skipping back to me, sending her grey dress flying about, showing off some old workman boots she was wearing, just like her gran. Nothing but class.

  We settled down on the well-used sofa. ‘Thank you for talking to Veronica. It has saved me from having to tell any more lies,’ I said, handing her the note.

  ‘I’m sorry, she had guessed so much already. Plus we drank, and you know how that goes,’ she explained and then read the note slowly. ‘That’s not too bad, is it?’

  I shook my head. ‘Could’ve been a lot worse.’ I lay back on the sofa. ‘Hopefully Veronica will come back soon. I really do like her,’ I admitted and looked at Suzie who handed the note back.

  ‘She will. Veronica loves you,’ the brunette said sadly. ‘We had fun, though, while it lasted, didn’t we?’

  I leaned over and kissed her rosy cheek. ‘Yes, we did. You will always have a place in my heart, Suzie, and I will never forget you.’ I took her hand and gave it a rub with my thumb. ‘I’ll be back, hon. We are friends, after all, forever.’

  As tears wetted her cheeks, she gripped my hand even harder. ‘So, what happened in France? Stuart told me the plane never came back?’

  I rubbed my face with my spare hand and told her about the crash and about my own heroine Gabrielle, who I found out had been executed by the SS for helping with the assassination of ten high-ranking submariners, as well as other ranks. She was now hailed as a hero of France by the Resistance. My escape was then one death-defying action to the next. The town of Le Faouët was swarming with troops after finding a cell of Resistance.

  I ran into a squad of new recruits, which the beast took over and wiped out. I took back control and semi-turned them. After that I left nothing but ash and rifles; they were found, though. It had confused them, but they still flooded the place with SS and Wehrmacht soldiers.

  ‘Jesus, Albert, how did you get back here, then?’ Suzie asked with wide eyes, her body appearing to tremble.

  ‘I got to the coast and stole a fishing boat and somehow I made it here.’ I chuckled; the sailing here was a nightmare. ‘I hated the crossing to Ireland when Adrian and I went over with the army, but trying to steer a trawler single-handed over the Channel was something else.’

  Suzie and I embraced before she shut the door behind me. I headed home and back to my memories, with the thoughts of making new ones with Veronica.

  The days and weeks passed slowly as I waited for her to return. Then a month later we buried my last friend from the past, Mickey. He’d had a good life, and his boy Stuart treated me like family. Thankfully it was old age that took him in the end with a smile on his face and a bottle in his hand; he headed off into the heavens to be with his wife, Tabatha, once again.

  It was a nice service, even though a few questions were asked about the late time, but all just wanted to say goodbye to Mickey. The wake was a messy one, to the point where I carried Suzie all the way home with her passed out over my back leaving a trail of sick all the way back to my house which was closer than the shop.

  I was still shaken by the loss of my last childhood friend when one day a corporal in my department who worked as the major’s aide handed me an envelope. Her blue eyes looked into mine and there was sorrow on her face.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Captain, but you asked me to keep a look out for Miss Jenkins,’ she said softly before chewing her lip. ‘I’m sorry, but I found her on a list.’ The corporal tried to say more but her words faltered.

  My mouth fell open looking at the paper held in the corporal’s hands. ‘It’s okay, Corporal, thank you for your help with this. It…means a lot,’ I said and saluted, which she returned and headed off, leaving me to open the envelope alone.

  It was what I had guessed and feared. The news of Veronica’s death during a raid on London, the evening of the very same day she left me in her bed. The husk of a heart I had left broke again that day as I walked home alone. I hadn’t known her for a long time, but she fitted me like a glove.

  Major Matterson had me carrying out local jobs for a time, despite the higher-ups pressuring him to send me back to France, but he knew I was doing a better job locally than risking his best spy catcher in occupied France.

  It was on 1 June 1944 that I was parachuted back into France with orders to set the coast aflame, so that’s what I did. The beast in me had fun. I cut a bloody furrow throughout the Calais area to make the Boche think that’s where the invasion would come. I did a wonderful job.

  After the war I moved into the shop with Suzie and we regained our love affair. She wasn’t marriage material, and neither was I, but she comforted me during the bad times when the nightmares came a calling. Suzie, just like her grandmother before her, built me back up. Her family gave me back the original shop for me to run alongside Suzie who happily stood by my side. In the end everyone called us Mr and Mrs Morris, so we just went with it.

  We were happy. We drank and sang and enjoyed post-war Britain. Her appetite for drink, food, me and life was unprecedented, which caused her to pass away in my arms at the age of fifty-seven in 1978. As her heart slowed and gave out, we shared a kiss. Our eyes never left each other as the life left her. I buried her in my family plot as Mrs Suzanne Morris; she would enjoy that.

  Once again I was alone. Mickey’s son Stuart had died in his sleep, which was sad, but for a policeman it was a good way to go, especially after some of the run-ins he’d had with gangs after the war. The influx of weapons brought back by servicemen almost swamped the police at times, but slowly they gained some control. Of course, I helped where I could.

  I ran the shop on my own and was happy with my lot. The front windows and doors had a thick curtain to keep out the sun. Also, the till and counter were at the far end, so I would never be touched by the sunlight. In the early eighties I had them replaced with a reflective coating, so I would get all of the light but none of the rays. Here’s to progress.

  The future was interesting after the war as things moved so quickly. It’s easy to keep ahead of things with the amount of magazines plus television, but mostly it was the many new shops springing up selling all kinds of things for the home. Also, with later opening times I could spend my time just looking at the shelves and flow of electronics, especially from Japan. It always amused me that the countries we fought and won against now flooded our country with their goods, but that was life I guess.

  It was the early nineties when my celibacy and loneliness started to weigh me down somewhat; not just that, but real company. Suzie’s family had pulled away after her death, not that they blamed me, but my secret and what I had done for the family was just forgotten over time. As was the army, which I was quite happy about. But I felt the need for company again.

  One Friday night I found myself perusing the shelves of the local John Lewis department store. Everybody likes new entertainment equipment, although luckily for my business there were still some people who liked a good old-fashioned pawnshop for a cheap deal. I am one of those who liked my electronic toys. With the rents from my spare properties, I had gathered a good deal of money, along with gold and silver which I took off the hands of some very aggressive criminals, allowing me to buy whatever was new and shiny.

  I ghosted past the new models of home personal computers when I spied a tall redhead. She had pointed features almost like a Vulcan, and her hair reached her waist and her eyes glowed, but I couldn’t tell if they were blue or silvery grey. I track
ed her as she moved. She had a dancer’s figure, wearing a knee-length purple dress with matching heels, but it was the way she held herself. It was impressive, like she owned the place, almost regal.

  Suddenly, she stood stock-still towering over the shelf full of microwave ovens. Her eyes bored into mine, her pale face showed no emotion, but her eyes scanned over me, as I had done with her. The world had stopped for us both; we only had eyes for each other. Then she started to move, and I heard every time her heel hit the floor as she made her way towards me. Fellow patrons were cast aside like ice broken by oncoming ships. Soon she was stood in front of me. Wearing those heels, she was a couple of inches taller.

  ‘Tracey Andrews,’ she said in a tone which resembled a cat purring as it was stroked while eating cream off a freshly caught mackerel. Her long, slender fingers hung in the air as she proffered her hand like a scene from Upstairs, Downstairs.

  I took her hand and strangely kissed the back of it. I saw the flicker of mirth on her pale face, although the smattering of light freckles across the tops of her cheeks and the bridge of her nose did seem to flare brightly.

  ‘Good evening, Miss Andrews, my name is Albert Morris,’ I replied and dipped my head slightly.

  We stood unmoving for a moment still hand in hand; we were starting to gather stares from the occupants of the shop.

  ‘May I call you Albert?’ she asked formally.

  I smiled politely. ‘Of course, may I call you Tracey?’ I asked, while inside I laughed thinking we were royalty.

  Tracey nodded back with a smile breaking onto her porcelain-like face. ‘We are drawing quite the crowd, Albert. Care to have a drink with me?’

  We left the store without another word. Then we hit the September air, and that’s when I noticed she had no heartbeat. As we locked eyes, her lips parted showing off her lengthened incisors.

  ‘We are the same, Albert. Now, let’s drink and chat awhile,’ she suggested and strode into the traffic, making me rush after her. Clearly, she had a destination in mind. When we got there, I was happy that many things couldn’t kill me because this place was a shithole, to which we would seem very out of place with two posh people slumming it.