The theater was high and circular, with the most recent corpse on display in the center of the floor, laid out on a raised dais, covered with a waxed sheet. Lighting of the arena was arranged so that the corpse was spotlighted in a pool of illumination, and the surrounding tiers of observers’ seats in gloom. The professor stood by the dais, clad in evening wear, the clothing deemed proper and respectable for such a display. Today two uniformed policemen stood nearby as well.
As if a man still in his mid-twenties, Marcus bounded up the steps to the top row of seats and shrank back into the darkness of the auditorium to watch. Mingled among the students, he wanted to see the body.
He needed to see how exactly what manner of horrific methods of murder had been applied. He needed to see gashes, the ripping and tearing, the blood-soaked clothes of a frantic kill, to confirm that indeed this was the handiwork of his protégée. As surely as if he had done this himself, he must take responsibility to protect himself and others of his kind. He had turned her into the killer that she was. He gave her that power. Now, he must undo, rescind what he had done. He must kill her before she was found.
“Gentlemen, please!” The instructing physician surgeon called for the crowd of students to settle and come to attention. “As you all know, the police are here today to inform us all as to the recent events in the ongoing string of violence in our streets. They want to ask our thoughts and our help and are hoping for a fruitful collaboration. There will be time for questions after Detective Chief Inspector Wilks gives his report.” He gestured to Wilks to take the floor.
“I would first like to thank the Royal College of Medicine for allowing us to use your facilities while we continue to investigate this series of murders.” He took off his hat and placed it under his arm while he spoke. Rubbing his free hand down his pants leg, he appeared to be a bit nervous to speak to large crowds, especially such a prestigious group.
“Our police headquarters is only equipped for one victim at a time. As you may already know, this is the ninth victim in the last four weeks.” He paused a moment and took a weary breath. “Right. So, let’s get on with it.”
Wilks stepped closer to the body. He grasped the white sheet covering it. After whipping the cloth back like a magician revealing his illusion, Wilks let it flutter stiffly to the floor.
Gasps rippled throughout the audience of young medical students. The sight of such a ravaged body was incredible, even to these experienced men, used to seeing the exposed organs and broken limbs of the city’s unfortunate. There was a rustle and murmur from the students as they stood and leaned forward into the theater to see better. Mouths were covered with white-gloved hands, stifling gags.
It was obvious this body was not what they were used to seeing, usually a starved elderly pauper, clean as paper and thin as a work-house sheet. They seemed unprepared for what lay beneath the sheet, what had been a voluptuous older woman, who had quite literally been shredded. The only way to identify the body as female was the long hair trailing on the sheet, a single heavy breast slumped at one side and scraps of gaudy taffeta tangled near the legs. It was hard to tell what organs and limbs went where, all was in such a state of confusion. And most of all, there was congealed blood, everywhere; the body was like a quivering clot of brown jelly, so much blood smeared in every fold and crevice. It was obvious the body had not been washed or disinfected, but simply brought in from the crime scene. The policeman gave them a moment to settle again, stepped aside and deferred to the professor to take over the lecture.
The woman’s body had been scored down the front, revealing the ribcage broken and poking out of her chest. There was no skin to hide the interior organs. Random bones stuck out through the flesh and her heart lay in the middle of the chest cavity, still somehow attached. It looked like the last piece of chocolate in a grotesque valentine box. The breast bone sagged to one side, hanging by a few untorn remaining threads of ligament. The whole revealed an incredible amount of savagery.
“Starting at the base of the throat, we can see that there is not much left of her neck. The spine is exposed and severed. The neck is slashed with only bits of skin to connect the skull to the body. This is where we surmise the killer started in an attempt to subdue her, then he moved to her torso. We see that she was slashed from the base of her neck to just above her genitals.” The instructor continued in a calm cadence.
The distinguished professor adjusted his monocle, leaned in and took a moment to look closer at the shriveled heart. He poked toward the prune-like organ with his forefinger, but did not touch it. Once it had been robustly apple-sized, but now was empty and shrunken, with a sucked-dry appearance. He furrowed his brow, straightened and continued. “It would seem that her heart has no blood left in it. The police inform us, at the site of the murder, there was a great deal of blood.”
“Apparently, the human body has quite a bit of blood,” Wilkes piped up, nodded and stepped back again. His hands clasped behind his back, the detective waited for comments. Murmurs swept across the audience.
Somewhere in the audience, a louder whisper was heard. “A killer? Looks more like she was run over by a train.”
“Here! Here!” Another member of the audience concurred.
“As the police, we are at a loss to who or what would cause this. We do think that the killer enjoys what he is doing…and will do this again. We are asking for your thoughts and comments on what you see today.” Louder chatter broke among the students. They pointed their hands and waved.
“What was the nature of this woman’s status?” The first question rang out from the seats. “Who was she? Perhaps that has some bearing on why she has been killed as if it were a wild beast trying to destroy her.”
“We have found victims in their homes and in the street. Thus, ruling out any wild animals to be the cause. We believe that the identity of this particular victim is Mrs. Camilla Payne, who some of you may or may not realize runs a house of…’er…gentleman’s entertainment.” The detective inspector appeared to be choosing his words with delicacy in case any one of these men and boys had known about and possibly been to her establishment.
“Madame Payne!” Someone was faintly heard followed by the louder sounds of his retching over the rails. Vomit hit the pristine marble floors from above with a splat.
The unpleasant sour smell disturbed Marcus’s heightened senses. The vampire closed his eyes and winced, pulling his head away from the source and toward his right shoulder. He suddenly smelled something much sweeter and even more intense. He smelled the blood of his own kind. Could it be that she was so bold to come here? Eyes wide open again, his gaze pierced the dimly lit seating area room and found the source. Not only was it one of his kind, it was someone he knew.
Marcus peered more intently through the distance and blinked hard. Sebastian Hawthorne. They had known each other through Sebastian’s sister and later they had been together in the East Indian wars at the Battle of Plassey. Sebastian was leaning forward, watching intently, and appeared as vital and hale as he had as a British officer surgeon those many years ago.
Marcus should have realized that Sebastian may have had been turned during that rampage of killings both natural and supernatural. The evil spirits of the jungle were irresistibly drawn to the surgeon’s tents and their fountains of blood. They took the dead and the dying and sometimes—the living. It was the way he had been turned, unwilling. And now, he surmised, so had Sebastian.
He was sitting only yards away from Sebastian now, almost one hundred years later. While in life they had not seen eye to eye on the philosophies of medicine or surgery. Marcus was of the classic school of thought that you cut the damages from the patient, bandaged them and hoped they survived. Sebastian was always more compassionate and hopeful to try to save the injured limb. He was always tinkering with some gadget that might save a finger or ear, foolish time-wasters to Marcus’s thought. He wondered if Sebastian sti
ll clung to those high ideals and philosophies. He could not quite picture the fastidious Sebastian making a messy kill.
Sebastian was a man of high intellect and learning, but a second son that had drawn the soldier’s card reserved for lesser heirs in the nobility. Had he been a third son, the church would have claimed him. Against his parent’s wishes, he had insisted on taking his surgeon’s training before he went to war and then marched off with others to the wretched jungle conflict that had trapped so many in the push for British expansion. No matter the past, they were now in the same gentlemen’s club of the undead.
Marcus now knew he must do his best to enlist Sebastian’s help to find this creature threatening to destroy them all. With the speed no human eye could comprehend, Marcus moved to a seat on the row behind Sebastian. “Hello, old comrade.” Sebastian spoke softly, without turning his head. “What a surprise to see you here. Things must be much more serious than I had thought.”
“Hello, Sebastian. I must admit that I too am surprised to see you here…after all these years.” Marcus leaned forward close to Sebastian’s ear. “We must speak in private. It is a matter of urgency, as you can see.”
“I agree.” Sebastian nodded. “Meet me across the road in Le Fey Verte.” Sebastian ducked down the stairs and out of the medical school theater. The audience was still on its feet, craning and commenting on the day’s unusual victim. Medical school had become much more exciting than previously.
Sebastian seemed to vanish before Marcus heard his last word. Just as swiftly and silently, Marcus followed him down the high steps of the theater. Out on the street, Marcus knew the bar Sebastian suggested. He knew that there would be no one in that establishment that would hinder or eavesdrop on any conversation that would transpire. Everyone was there for one purpose only. They would be deep in their own cups to dance with the Green Fairy for their own reasons.
As Marcus entered the dim room, he saw Sebastian at a small table by the fireplace. He crossed the room, avoiding those who drank in a solitary manner, and took a seat at Sebastian’s table. Marcus stretched his legs to the fire, hooking his arm over the chair back. As Marcus sat in a relaxed pose, his coat fell back and he saw Sebastian notice the regimental dagger at his waist. It was the same as Sebastian wore, but with a cabochon red ruby set in the dagger hilt. Large and roughly cut, the gem caught the eye in a gold setting. Marcus saw Sebastian’s own knife was set with black onyx, with a small diamond in the center.
“I see you still wear our dagger.” Sebastian indicated the knife, making a slight gesture of his fingers toward the blade. “As do I. It is a handsome ruby there.”
Marcus rested his hand atop the knife. “Yes, it never leaves my side. The ruby was a reward for some service in India. It has served me well upon those occasions when, let us say, a little persuasion is needed.”
The barkeep arrived with two glasses of deep emerald liquid. “Gentlemen.” He laid out the accoutrements needed to enjoy the exotic beverage, picked up the coins on the table, turned and left them alone.
“I took the liberty. I hope you don’t mind.” Sebastian touched the edge of the perforated silver spoon balancing across the lip of his stemmed glass. The faint scent of anise, the smell of wormwood and green herbs, the odor of the beverage, began to surround the men.
“Not at all.” Marcus pulled his seat closer to the table to construct his drink as well. “I see you have also found that absinthe is the only thing that we can drink in a public house.”
“I must admit it is my weakness. It helps me process with the clarity I need in the most difficult or trying circumstances.” Sebastian picked up a lump of sugar and placed it on the perforated spoon. Pouring water over the sugar, he completed the Louche ritual of blending his drink into the correct portions. He passed the pitcher to his companion. Marcus watched the water and sugar combination transform the emerald liquid into an opalescent, milky green.
“To meeting the green goddess…and you, my old…friend.” Marcus lifted his glass and clinked a toast with Sebastian’s glass. It was a strong drink, one to be sipped slowly, but Marcus took a deep draft hoping to fortify himself in order to begin to explain the situation to Sebastian.
“It’s been at least almost a hundred years since I’ve seen you, Marcus. You don’t look a day older.” Sebastian gave a wry smile and took a sip of the green liquid. “Pray, what brings you to London in these changing and progressive times? I dare say, not the climate.” Sebastian’s words sounded cautious and carefully chosen to Marcus.
“True, it has been many years since we have spent time together, on or off the battlefield. While I know we have not always seen eye to eye about humanity, I am most grateful to have run into you today in the autopsy theater.” Marcus took a deep breath and continued. “While medicine has always interested me, today I was there on a much more urgent observation.” Marcus leaned over his glass and closer in toward Sebastian. He tapped the table to emphasize his words. “I have the highest concern that these recent murders are not at the hand of a human. If this be the case, we as vampires are at a great risk of exposure.”
“I have also been following this rampant carnage and have to say that I agree with your assessment, Marcus.” Sebastian nodded agreement. “That is the reason I was here at the theater, as well.” He sipped his drink.
“Was your brother turned as well? Does he concur? Has Julian stated his feelings to you on this matter? Perhaps he could be of help to us,” Marcus said.
“My dear brother Julian is no longer with us.” Sebastian appeared to spit out his words with a tone of bitterness. “You may not know, but he was the source of my turning, against my will. He bartered with the Hindus for power. I was the coin he used. In that trade, I lost my soul.” With that, Sebastian drained his glass and signaled to the waiter for another round.
“I had been estranged from him for many years. Recently, he took advantage of one of my innovations and rose to try and build a clockwork army of automatons. In the end, he went mad and died in a fire at his laboratory.” The waiter arrived, surveyed the table, discreetly replenished their drinks and disappeared into the smoky gloom once more.
“A clockwork army? And from one of your inventions. That stings.” Marcus prepared his drink as he spoke. “I am sorry to hear this from you, Sebastian. I knew Julian was ambitious in his schemes, but I would have never dreamed he had such delusions of grandeur.”
Sebastian shook his head. “I do not mourn for my brother. In fact, the world is a better place without him.” He lifted his glass as if to toast Julian’s demise. They drank deeply.
Sebastian nodded toward the barkeep across the room. Once again the stemmed glasses were filled, although the man raised an eyebrow at the number of glasses of this powerful liquid they had consumed. He seemed to be thinking an ordinary customer would be out of consciousness by now. The small pitcher of water and plate of sugar lumps were refreshed as well. He gathered the used stemware between his fingers and left the table.
The two vampires were silent while the waiter was near, but resumed conversation after he crossed the room.
“So, when did you realize this elixir would have any effect, let alone such an influence on our sobriety?” Sebastian asked as he began to construct his drink and passed the pitcher of water to Marcus.
“As you may recall, I had always preferred a good single malt scotch.” Marcus slowly poured the water over the sugar into his glass. He watched the crystals break and fall like snowflakes, transform from white dots and melt into the green liquid.
“I do recall on the odd social occasion that we both preferred it a great deal.” Sebastian looked wistful. “Those were better days. Happier days.”
“Yes, well fortunately or unfortunately, after my turning I did recall my fondness for it too often. I explored and tried many things that would dull the pain of this different life. Finally I discovered only the absinthe seems to
have any effect on our kind.”
“At the beginning of my new life, I longed to find solace in a good drink once again. Yet nothing affected me until I did finally, at a last attempt, try to dance with the Green Fairy. At a very reluctant last resort, as I had read the reports of its mental effects upon the habitual drinker.” Sebastian swirled his glass gently and held it up to inhale the fragrance, then sipped. He set the glass back on the table and allowed it to hold his gaze. Sebastian smiled ruefully. “I cannot exactly call it a life-saver, but…” Marcus echoed his expression.
“I regret we did not discuss my sister, Emma, or your engagement when last we met. I know that was a very traumatic time for all of us. You, especially, of course.”
“She was so lovely as she danced at our engagement ball.” Marcus smiled at his memory. “All eyes were always only on her. Truly the belle of all the balls.” Glittering memory was wiped away with his next thought. Marcus’s face turned hard. “It was only a month after that perfect night that she was struck down by the consumption.”
Sebastian looked straight into Marcus’s eyes. “She did love you.” His words were comforting and felt genuinely kind.
“And I her. My one true love.” Marcus hung his head for a moment, then took a thoughtful drink. Steel yourself, man. This is not the time to tell him. “To love a rare woman such as your sister, now seems equally impossible as to love and partake in that rare quality of scotch.”
A Clockwork Victim Page 2