The Victorian Vampire

by Nick James

  I frowned. ‘Coven? Is that a thing here, then?’ I asked the walking boulder, who nodded. ‘Shit, I got that wrong,’ I added, watching a limo turn up and Lurch open the rear door. I had two options: fight in front of everyone or go to see these people… ‘Shit.’ I got in and sighed as the vehicle drove away into the traffic.

  Chapter 14

  I had no idea where we were going. The driver didn’t answer any of my questions, but we were clearly no longer in Manhattan as there were trees everywhere. After a time, we drove through a stone archway which had black wrought-iron gates. The gravel driveway was covered by a canopy of trees, and thanks to my eyesight I could see a large, old mansion which made anything Mary Shelley could write look like children’s playtime.

  ‘Well, that’s imposing.’ I chuckled and watched the driver’s eyes twinkle with mirth.

  An old, grey-haired man walked out of the huge building and opened the door just as the wheels stopped turning.

  ‘Good evening, Mr Morris. Please follow me,’ the butler said and walked off slowly through some heavy oak doors.

  ‘Are you expecting the peasants to attack us, Jeeves?’ I joked, trying to relieve my rising stress levels.

  The old man looked back. ‘Very droll. My name is Graves, sir.’ He carried on his slow journey through this very bleak house.

  All of the wooden interior was stained like alabaster, and the carpets and drapes were blood-red – they really were trying too hard to do the whole gothic horror bit. We walked into a room with a roaring fire and large impressive portraits hanging on the walls.

  ‘Please take a seat, sir. Master Sebastian will be with you in a moment.’ Graves bowed and left.

  I will be the first to admit it, I didn’t like this place. It stank of other vamps and wealth. I then heard footsteps on the plush carpeting.

  ‘Ah, Mr Morris, glad you could join us,’ came a voice. I turned and saw a man in his sixties with dyed black hair wearing a tuxedo. Everything was thin from his lips to his arms and legs; he looked like he was made from a matchstick.

  ‘Not that I had any choice,’ I responded with light tones, remembering the two burly men who had collected me. I took the man’s proffered hand. ‘Nice place you have here. I’m sure Dracula would love it.’

  The smile never left the man’s face. ‘Oh, shucks. Yes, the twins are a bit imposing, aren’t they, but no harm done,’ said the lipless man. ‘Anyway, my name is Samuel Sebastian III, and welcome to Blood Manor.’ He opened his mouth to reveal his fangs.

  ‘Cheers, two first names, that’s fun for you,’ I said, trying not to let my old accent come into play, but I didn’t like this man.

  His fangs bared again, but with anger this time. ‘My family have called this home for two centuries,’ he said, throwing his toys, but he did relax when I held up my hands to placate him.

  ‘I’m sorry, Samuel. I was just joking. Your home, it’s very nice.’ I looked around pretending to admire the ugly décor.

  ‘Thank you, yes, indeed. I let the coven use it for our meetings, and some of them live here too,’ he said as we slowly made our way down the hallway.

  I nodded while pretending I cared. Tracey and I found out that we couldn’t be together long term, so how did this lot do it? ‘So, how big is your coven?’

  ‘We will have time for that, Albert. They are waiting for us,’ he said urgently. We came to a pair of ornate double doors; he placed his hand on both door handles and smiled at me creepily. ‘Welcome to the Blood Coven,’ he said and pushed open both doors to reveal a large round table with large wooden throne-like chairs. There were thirteen in total with two spaces. Unlucky for me, I guess. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, Albert Morris has arrived,’ and he escorted me to one of the free chairs.

  I looked around and saw that with my escort it was an equal split of men and women. All the men wore the same clothing as Sebastian, and the ladies wore gowns from the time I was born. By the looks of them, my jeans and a button-down shirt was not appropriate for such meetings.

  ‘Well, hello,’ I said, giving them a little wave.

  ‘Mr Morris, may I ask why you didn’t seek us out when you arrived?’ demanded a woman, who looked like she was in the twilight of her years, and maybe other people’s, too.

  ‘Well, firstly, I didn’t know you existed, so that’s why, I guess,’ I answered, after which they looked at each other confused. ‘And, secondly, we don’t have a coven in England,’ I added.

  Once again they muttered, but I couldn’t be bothered to listen. A man next to the woman opened a file. ‘Well, Mr Morris, that is untrue,’ he said with a sigh. ‘They have been tracking you for some time. They just chose not to induct you, due to your habit of spending time with the humans.’

  I managed to hide my shock and disbelief as they told me I was being spied upon by this so-called coven, but the anger was palpable as I thought about these people acting like they were in charge. Who do they think they are? I had better tell Tracey; she might want to kick their arses. She’s a bit touchy about being followed, touched and even breathed on unwantedly.

  ‘They didn’t even want to say hello. Ah, well,’ I said dismissively and smiled at the dead-faced crowd. ‘And may I ask to whom I am speaking?’

  They just sat there like a bunch of statues, then the man looked up. ‘In here you may call me number three,’ he said and flicked through my file.

  A laugh escaped. I was thinking we were in a James Bond movie. ‘Okay, so what can I do for you? Clearly, I’m not coven material.’ It was good to see them nodding in agreement.

  ‘Mr Morris, you are right about that, but whatever you do impacts on us,’ said another unknown face. ‘It seems you have brought your habits to our land. The police have informed us that you and a human partner were attacked in your home, and that you let the attackers live?’

  I leaned back in my chair and steepled my fingers like any good Bond villain. ‘If I was on my own they would’ve been food, but my date was there. Then before I knew it my neighbours poured in, including one of your bloody Peelers.’ That caused them to look confused again. ‘Your cops, that’s what I meant,’ I clarified.

  ‘Be as it may, Mr Morris, you should limit your time with humans just for feeding time. And if you mend your ways, we will happily induct you into the Blood Coven,’ a woman my age said coldly, but a smile belied her tone. She was pretty, had long dark hair and with what you would say a noble standing about her.

  ‘Also, I see in your file that you killed your sire, is that true?’ No. 3 stated. This brought one or two sneers from the Council of Blood, which I imagined was the name they had given themselves.

  I had to stifle a yawn – not because I was tired, but because I was tired of this shit. ‘Yes, it turned out I had stumbled upon Jack the Ripper when he was torturing his latest victim. He was savaging her when he then attacked me – and he meant to kill me, not turn me,’ I snapped at them. ‘He was torturing humans in my area, and I thought he might come back to finish the job, so I got to him first,’ I explained, which brought nods from over half of the council.

  ‘We are aware of that and other instances in Britain,’ a faceless voice stated.

  ‘Their coven does seem to be very lax with their members, I must say,’ said a woman who was dressed like Queen Victoria. ‘Also, Mr Morris, the report says here that you worked with the British armed forces during the war, is that right?’

  ‘Yes, it was a world war after all, and who says I wouldn’t have been killed during one of those godawful air raids that took so many?’ I speculated with visions of Veronica flashing through my mind. ‘I had every right to fight back!’

  No. 3 leaned forward. ‘But your coven declared themselves neutral,’ he said and went to continue, but I stopped him dead.

  ‘They are not my fucking coven. I was turned over a hundred years ago, and not once did they approach me. So they obviously didn’t want me to follow their bloody rules… Did they?’ My temper had allowed my accent to come
to the fore, and these snotty vampires did not approve of my language. God help them if they ever met Tracey; she made sailors blush. ‘I kill only when I have to, and then only those who deserve it. I like being with humans; they are fun.’

  Queen Victoria knocked on the polished table. ‘But it’s not our way. We have staff to deal with the cattle,’ she scoffed.

  I stood up. ‘Those are your rules, not mine,’ I growled and made to leave, but the woman who was my age motioned for me to sit down.

  I did as instructed but the mood of the room remained uneasy. I didn’t think they were used to people standing up to them. ‘So, you don’t like what I do, and if I don’t change my ways… What? What’s going to happen?’

  ‘Nothing…yet,’ came a different female voice from the shadows. ‘We, Mr Morris, have a lot of power in this city, and we can’t have you running around upsetting the status quo. If you change your ways you can join us, which gives you a certain amount of protection, safe houses in the city, though none of us have used them, and many willing cattle to be bled.’

  I let out big sigh. ‘I’m not trying to disrespect you or your ways, but I have found that vampires shouldn’t be around each other too much. I have tried it, and sleeping next to another cold body is no fun at all for me. Well, all bar the stamina,’ I said, and gave them a roguish grin and a wink, which only one returned, and she was the vampire my age, visually speaking, that is. ‘Humans are nice and warm, so it’s nice to feel that and let it take me back to when I was human.’

  The room went quiet apart from the staff walking about and the wall-mounted torches flickering. They obviously didn’t like the modern era.

  No. 3 closed the file in front of him. ‘You shall be watched, Mr Morris. Please don’t do anything which will bring trouble to our door. The driver will take you back now,’ he said, and suddenly the table cleared and I was left alone.

  At this moment in time all I wanted to do was set the whole place on fire. Who the hell do they think they are?

  ‘Mr Morris, the car is waiting for you,’ Graves the butler said with a respectful bow.

  I looked up at the man and pushed back the old heavy chair. ‘Thank you, Jeeves, lead the way.’

  ‘The name is Graves…sir,’ he said with a tired and bored look on his face.

  ‘That’s right, lead on, Macduff,’ I joked back, but he didn’t smile. He took his job very seriously.

  I followed the man, passing a few of the council looking on from the dark recesses of the manor. All I did was wave and smile to acknowledge their presence. The butler led me to the front door and opened the door to the limo.

  ‘Thanks, Graves, look after yourself,’ I said, sitting in the back seat.

  Before the butler closed the door, he leaned in. ‘A word of warning, sir. Don’t push them on this – they are quite stringent about their rules, sir.’

  I shook the man’s hand. ‘Thanks, Graves, I’ll think about it,’ and within minutes I was being driven back to Manhattan. I leaned forward and spoke to the driver. ‘Any chance we can pick up some fried chicken; my doorman loves it.’ To my surprise the man did, although I’m pretty sure he regretted it the next day as the whole car smelt of fat-drenched chicken.

  I walked into my apartment building foyer and watched Jasper hurriedly hugging himself as the cold air filtered into the spacious area. His face soon cracked a wide smile as he saw two buckets of Colonel Sanders’ best fried chicken, and it was then that he saw the limo outside just pulling away.

  ‘Hell, KFC is going upmarket, delivered by stretched limo. Bert, you shouldn’t have.’ He beamed as I handed over the plastic bag.

  ‘When in Rome, mate. It is New York, after all,’ I said happily and headed off to the lift. ‘Have a good shift.’ I pressed the button to call the lift and looked back to see his hand waving in the air as his face and other hand were rooting around for his favourite pieces of chicken. He looked like a child at Christmas.

  I made my way into my empty apartment, flicked the switch and bathed the place in light. The way the night had gone left me agitated, so I kicked off my shoes and turned on the idiot box. I ate some ‘fat food’ knowing that it could not kill me. A man has to do what a vampire has to do! I decided to wait until later to phone Tracey, knowing what kind of fallout there would be when she found out we were followed by this so-called coven.

  The early hours flittered away. Even Anna didn’t have any ideas for what I should do. Although, the bottle of Scotch I had finished off came up with some great ideas; such as stumble about, shout at a lamp, and the best one was passing out in the bathroom and cracking my skull open on the bath. It takes a lot to get me drunk to the point where I pass out, but I guess I had reached it.

  I woke up with a banging head, although it wasn’t real pain. It was more memory pain from before my change, but it was a novelty to wake up covered in my own blood and not someone else’s. I guess I was living in interesting times and starting to experience new things in the Big Apple.

  I stood by my balcony windows as people started to rush to work. I closed my eyes and remembered living in London with my friends and running through the small streets of Whitechapel. I barked out a laugh remembering the lanky redhead Adrian swearing at our local copper and making off while still gesturing to the Peeler, then running straight into a lamp post, which caused the rest of us to stop running because we were laughing so hard. Happy days.

  Sleep didn’t come to me that day, not that I really needed it, but it was good to rest the mind and body from time to time, so daytime TV it was. It amazed me the number of adverts they had over here, although they have their reasons, and it was even getting like that back home. I decided a nice long email to Tracey was called for. My head wasn’t up to her losing her temper. It must be a redhead thing, because when her temper blew the language that came from her delicate mouth would make a squaddie run home and tell his mummy. Somehow, I think the UK coven was going to have their arses ripped open.

  Finally, it was time for my neighbour to show up on her balcony. She appeared there last night, hopefully she would do it again, so I ran off to get ready. No joke this time, something smart that showed I had embraced the American way of life.

  It was time. There she stood at the window in her typical black business suit with black tights, but this time her black hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail. I saw her eyes widen when I stepped out onto the balcony as the sun had disappeared over the New York skyline.

  I stood on a chair and placed my other foot on the balcony ledge. With my chin held high and my fist on my hips, I knew I had nailed the look I wanted. My eyes flicked towards her; she was wiping tears from her eyes. Clearly, I had hit her patriotic side. I think it was the cape that clinched it. She blew me a kiss and walked away laughing, then a couple of things happened.

  I noticed many people in the same building with her taking photos of me posing in my Superman outfit, but that I didn’t mind. The other thing was the limo outside my building and the woman from the coven who seemed to be of my age staring up at me sporting a quizzical look. I waved down at her, trying to lighten the situation, but she was gone.

  ‘Crap,’ I muttered as I heard the buzzer go on the apartment intercom. Leaving my audience to their laughter, I ran indoors and picked up the phone. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Mr Morris, I have a young lady here to see you,’ stated the doorman, whose voice I didn’t recognise.

  ‘Hmmmm, and does this lady have a name?’ I heard a muffled conversation before he came back on the line.

  ‘The lady said you know who she is, so stop playing games and let her up…sir.’

  That made me laugh, and I told him to let her up. It was then that I remembered my outfit, which I speedily swapped for some comfy shorts and a polo shirt.

  There was a knock at the door, so I quickly put on some slip-on trainers, jogged to the door and put my left eye to the peephole. I was right; it was the dark-haired woman from the Blood Coven.

  ‘No
w, now, Mr Morris. Are you going to leave a lady on your doorstep all night?’ she said with only a slight hint of an accent.

  I opened the door and gave her a smile, which turned into a look of amazement. The woman was wearing a red ballgown with a tight corset, which nearly made her pale breasts spill out of the gown, and around her neck was a diamond necklace with a large emerald that happily nestled in a wonderful place.

  ‘My apologies. Please come in.’ I moved out of her way as she glided in as though on air. ‘Please, take a seat.’ I pointed to my sofa, although her outfit would have been more suited to a throne.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Morris,’ she said and settled down with such grace like someone from Henry V’s court. ‘Now, please take a seat. May I call you Albert?’

  ‘Of course, would you like a drink…Miss…?’

  ‘No thank you. I won’t be here long, and my name is Anastasia,’ she said happily. ‘I thought I would come and see you about the meeting, but I guess you didn’t take it to heart, especially after what I saw when I arrived, Mr Superman.’

  Fair play to the woman, there was only a faint sign of mirth on her lips. But it was her face – I recognised it.

  ‘Well, I don’t take kindly to people I don’t know suddenly telling me how I should live my life,’ I said sternly, but I still had a lingering feeling I knew her.

  Anastasia sighed. ‘I’m not surprised, they are a bit set in their ways, and you have obviously moved with the times, whereas they have insisted on staying in the past,’ she answered sadly. ‘But that is by the by. Tonight we are going to a dance. So go and put your best suit on, then we can hit the road, as the humans like to say.’

  ‘What, a dance, with me…? Why?’

  She put her gloved hand over her mouth to giggle but recovered quickly. ‘My apologies, Albert. Well, it’s easy. You interest me and, like you said, you want to live your life by your rules, and you’re a breath of fresh air to me. This ball will get you seen by the powerful. And as you will be seen on my arm, they will accept you, knowing that I am from the coven.’