The Last Watchman

by Kevin Partner

  As the fire warmed him, Grimes came around.

  “My dear fellow,” I said, tears falling down my cheeks in my relief.

  “Fools,” he mumbled.

  I did not argue, so relieved was I that he seemed to be recovering.

  Pitt touched my shoulder. “What do we do about the people up there?”

  “I suppose we had better cut them down,” I said.

  “No time,” Grimes responded.

  I turned back to my stricken friend. “What do you mean? Will that monster return?”

  “Perhaps,” he said. “But Peregrine will be back soon enough. We cannot be here when they return. I do not have the strength.”

  We hauled him to his feet, and I felt that sense of impending danger at the prospect of making our way back through the asylum corridors.

  Valentina remained kneeling beside the place where the fire had been. I left Grimes leaning on Pitt and knelt alongside her.

  “You must come,” I said. “If they find you here, they will kill you.”

  She wiped the tears from her eyes. “Let them. I care not.”

  “But I do care,” I said tenderly. “Please, help me get Grimes out of here. I cannot do it without you.”

  She drew in a deep breath and stood up. The mask of control returned to her expression and she gave a curt nod. “I will help. It is my duty. And then I will go after my husband and son.”

  I confess that, even in that dark place and with the horrors I'd seen that night, I felt a stab of jealousy at her obvious affection for Otto and Stephan. I hope I managed to conceal it.

  We half dragged Grimes across the basement floor, up the steps and into the hospital proper. We heard and saw nothing of the pursuit and yet it felt to me as if a groping dark was following us and it was with relief that we finally stepped out into the night air again. It had been less than two hours since we'd entered the hospital and dawn was still some time away, so we struggled with our burden until we finally made it back to 215 Bow Road.

  Tinder

  The last thing I wanted to do, after the horrors of the past hours, was to go out again that night. It was four o'clock in the morning and dawn was still some hours away as Valentina, Pitt and I sat in the living room of our quarters. Grimes lay asleep in his bed.

  I had spent some time seeing to his wounds, though I am certainly no medical doctor. They were mainly shallow and, it seemed, calculated rather to pain than to injure. He had been taken two nights ago and, it seemed to me, his torturer must have begun tormenting him almost immediately. He had plainly eaten and drunk nothing since his first demand was for water and a little food—even the stale bread I found in the pantry was devoured before he collapsed onto the bed. He immediately fell into a deep sleep.

  I could see, in my mind's eye, those poor devils hanging from the roof of the huge sewer that ran beneath the asylum. Now we knew how the vampires had escaped the burning building and I was prepared to bet that the sewer connected directly with the Bryant & May factory and that it had been prevented from communicating with any of the other foul waterways of London. The vampires, it seemed, liked their blood to be clean.

  There were so many questions I wished to ask Valentina, especially about her people. Were they such animals that all it took was a ready supply of blood to turn them from hidden members of society into ravening beasts? But then, I thought, what would be the effect on humanity if the sewers of London began to run with liquid gold? What lengths would the greedy go to in order to enrich themselves? It seemed likely that, just as with human beings, there were good and bad Nostri—and enough of the bad sort so that, if concentrated in one place, they'd be unstoppable.

  I asked her nothing. She sat in front of the long dead fire, gazing into the dark coals as if wandering the paths of her memory.

  Handing her a cup of tea, I said, “I am sorry, Valentina. I'm afraid I rather misjudged Otto.”

  She looked up at me with tears in her eyes. “No, you judged him accurately enough, but, for all his faults, he loved our son. He always said he'd follow Stephan into the very jaws of Hell and, for once, he proved true to his word.”

  “Do you know where they have gone? It almost seemed as though it were a magician's trick, but I know that what I saw was no illusion.”

  She shook her head. “I do not know for certain and I have not the energy to speculate. He is gone—they are gone—and now we must, I'm afraid, act or their sacrifice will have been for nothing.”

  Pitt, who'd been nursing a tumbler of whiskey and somehow contriving to nod off, moaned. “Can we not simply call the regulars?”

  “Do you really believe that?” I asked. “And what would you say? 'Vampires loose under the match factory?' Besides, we do not know how deep the conspiracy goes in our own government.”

  Valentina shook her head. “In any case, there is no time. We must deal with the... infestation... tonight and only then must we inform the authorities so that those poor devils in the sewer can be cut down. I only hope that some have survived.”

  My resolve hardened as I watched her. Whatever may come of it, we had to act tonight. “Then let us go.”

  “And what are we to do?” Pitt said, hauling himself up to stand on unsteady feet.

  I took the tumbler from him and drained the dregs, revelling in the warmth in my throat. “Bryant & May is a match factory, my friend, I believe I know exactly what to do.”

  Pitt and I rummaged around in Grimes' weapon box to replace our lost arms. I took up my old revolver, deciding that for all its effectiveness, the snub-nosed brass pistol I'd used in the sewer was at least as dangerous to my friends as it was to my enemies. I found three more of the marble-sized orbs and dropped them into the pocket of my torn and bloodied ulster and I patted the lump in the breast pocket that signified where my dagger lay.

  There was one more thing I needed to do before we left, however. It was with a heavy heart and much regret that I shook Grimes. I would have given anything to allow him the blessed rest of sleep, but we needed information.

  It took both Pitt and I to manage it. Pitt had the idea of blowing cigar smoke into Grimes' face and he finally awoke in a spluttering cough.

  “I am sorry, my friend,” I said as his eyes opened. “But we are returning to the factory.”

  I had expected him to protest, but he did not. He merely nodded.

  “Where are they?” The factory was huge, and I did not wish to be groping blindly in the dark not knowing which door the monsters were behind.

  “New factory basement,” he managed. “Connects to railway station. Go that way.”

  I let him drop back onto the pillow and left the room with Pitt. I took one last look at him as we left. He reminded me of an elephant slain for its glorious tusks—a fallen giant.

  We found Valentina in the chair by the fire. “Remain here,” I said to her, my hand wandering to her shoulder. “Pitt and I will take care of matters.”

  She rose and faced me; her jaw set in what later became a rather familiar expression. “You will not,” she said. “I am not some little lady who waits by the fire for the men-folk to do the real work. Did you not know that?”

  “Well, of course, but I... I...”

  “You thought I was too overcome with emotion to be of any use tonight?”

  “No, my dear lady, I certainly...”

  She swept past me. “Let us go. I wish to find Peregrine. I want to have a little chat with him.”

  As I followed her out, I felt a moment's pity for Peregrine. Come what may, I believed the hourglass of his life was running out of sand.

  It was an hour before we arrived at Bow Station, its iron railings and colonnaded steps looming up like some ancient Greek temple to Hades. And into the mouth of Hell we walked.

  I was now far past the point of fear, and rage was competing with exhaustion to master me. My calf muscles shook as I ascended the steps, Valentina and Pitt stalking along beside me like avenging angels. I carried my revolver openly, and the fe
w people we saw as we entered the electrically lit concourse gave us a wide berth. I reflected, as I looked back on this adventure, that we must have been quite a sight—two men in tattered coats and, between them, a woman in black concealing a hidden strength that would have made any man quail.

  As we approached the furthest of the platforms, a guard found the courage to challenge us.

  “Where may you be going?” he said, his vibrato voice betraying his nervousness.

  “Tell me where the cargo loading bay is,” I said. I had never had a domineering personality and had always liked to believe that I'd treated my social underlings with respect, but that night I discovered something about myself that both thrilled and frightened me. It seemed that I had, lurking in the depths of my soul, a black animal aspect to my nature that was emboldened by the surfeit of terror of the last few days. The restraints of civilisation and protocol were seen for the tissue paper they were when the red underbelly of human and vampire nature was exposed.

  The guard blinked at me, momentarily torn between his duty to interrogate strangers and the urgent warning of his reptilian brain that he was facing extreme danger. He pointed away beyond the last platform. “In them sheds,” he said before adding, “sir.”

  We swept past him and he must have scuttled away for, when I turned, I could see him no more.

  The cargo was stored in a row of sheds that ran alongside the station and backed onto the match factory's main frontage. Wordlessly, we each took off in a different direction, looking for the communication between the two, and soon enough I heard a whistle coming from my left and trotted in its direction to find Pitt and Valentina standing outside a large wooden door.

  “It's locked good and proper,” Pitt said. The electric lights of the main platform did not penetrate the gloom here, but I'd brought a Davy lamp and swung it in front of the door. Sure enough, it was padlocked, and I didn't doubt that there were also heavy wooden bars on the other side.

  I fished in my pocket for one of the marble-sized balls and was able to push it into the gap between the door and its frame. I gave it a squeeze and we stood back. With a sound that was more of a thump than a bang, the door exploded outwards, pushing the air ahead of it so that I was quite winded.

  “Well, if they're in there, they'll know we're coming,” Pitt said.

  “Let them,” Valentina responded with a snarl. “I care not.”

  I grabbed her arm as she went to step inside. “Do not throw your life away,” I said. “You are needed.”

  “I would not regard being revenged on those who took my husband and son from me as throwing my life away, Mr Makepeace. This is not the time for caution.”

  “But neither is it time for needlessly walking towards death. I am certain that Peregrine knows we are coming and will protect himself. I wish him dead also, but we must get close enough to kill him.”

  She stopped and gave a brief nod before waving me through. “Then, by all means, lead on,” she said. Perhaps I heard sarcasm in her voice but, frankly, I did not care, so I merely stepped in front of her and shone my lamp into the darkness.

  The tunnel connecting the factory with the yard was square and had a narrow-gauge rail track running along it. I shone my lamp on the roof and saw the tell-tale black coating of soot that proved they used a locomotive to move the goods. I strained my ears to listen but could hear no indication that the engine was in use over the dripping of water seeping through the tunnel roof to pool between the tracks and the sounds of our footsteps.

  In all, the tunnel was perhaps a hundred yards in length and ended in another door—this one mercifully unlocked—that swung out and back on itself to reveal the locomotive and its attached carriages. There was no sign that it had been used since the previous day—no lamps were lit and there was not the subtle pinging sound of one that has been extinguished recently. But there was something about the silent darkness and what lay hidden beyond it that brought my fear back again.

  Mastering myself, I found steps leading up to a raised platform used for loading cargo and found there what I'd been looking for: wooden crates, marked with the company logo and obviously containing boxes of matches. Beyond them lay a double door that opened to reveal a warehouse containing row upon row of shelves on which sat more boxes. The air in here was crisper, as if it were being drawn from outside.

  “They have to keep the matches and their boxes dry,” I said to my companions as we gazed around. “They're stored here and then moved into the other chamber to be loaded onto the locomotive and then on to the station.”

  Pitt's nose wrinkled. “I can smell the London air,” he said, “there must be a chimney.”

  “One set at each end,” I suggested, “drawing the air through, keeping it circulating.”

  “And so what?” It was obvious that Valentina wished to press on.

  “So, we have our powder keg. All we must do now is find our target and trap them. Inspector, can I leave this in your capable hands?”

  I saw Pitt nod in the darkness. “You can rely on me,” he said. “I've always been something of a pyromaniac. My father told me it would bring me to a bad end one day. Perhaps he was right.”

  “Remember that you will have little warning and even less time. When we next see you again, we will likely have a horde of monsters pressing behind us.” I gripped his hand. “Good luck, inspector.”

  “You too,” he replied and shook my hand with heart-felt warmth.

  “Come on,” Valentina said and, without looking to see whether I followed, strode off into the darkness.

  Inferno

  We heard them before we saw them. Cries echoed along the tunnel leading from the match store and I almost fell over the piled-up boxes as we strained to see in the pitch darkness. Valentina, of course, strode purposefully along as if it were broad daylight, and I now relied on her guidance utterly. I only hoped I could truly trust her.

  She had been using her hand to guide me and I felt it tense as she sniffed the air. “I smell it,” she whispered. “The blood.”

  I could not discern the aroma of blood from the dank, garlic-like smell of phosphorous that pervaded the tunnel as it ran beneath the factory, but I knew she must be right. We were now, according to my judgement, at a point where the factory was directly east of the asylum—this was where they connected and it would be here, of course, that the vampires would congregate.

  Suddenly, we heard voices; close enough that we could make out what they were saying.

  “We are hungry, Mr Peregrine.” The voice was uncouth and whining but insistent. “We wish only to feed to recover our strength.”

  I felt Valentina stiffen again as she recognised the source of the answering words. “No! The master's instructions are to be obeyed.”

  “But the master has gone,” the first voice responded. “It was those humans and the traitors who did it. He is not here to command us.”

  I heard a slapping sound as of one striking another. “He will return, fool! And in the meantime, his orders are to be obeyed. You will not drink—you will help with the preparation and then you may feed.”

  “We may feed? But they are almost drained. And they are old and scrawny. And it is just there. Can we not take a sip?”

  This time, the blow was harder, and I heard the speaker land hard on the wet floor. “I said no!” Peregrine squealed. “The next one to protest will die. Do I make myself clear?”

  The mumbled response came from so many different points ahead of us that I realised just how many vampires were here. Fear rose in my throat while, at the same time, I thrilled at the thought that we could destroy so many tonight. If the plan worked.

  Valentina shifted position beside me, the crinkling of her dress so loud I wondered that our enemy didn't leap upon us. She was tensioned like a spring and her eyes were fixed on Peregrine. I said a quiet prayer that I would never be on the receiving end of such a deadly glance.

  She touched my arm and I looked across at the shifting shapes in the
darkness. Her keener sight had spotted Peregrine ambling towards us, talking with one of his subordinates. As he came closer to our hiding place, I could hear what he was whispering.

  “We must proceed with the master's plan, until we are certain that he will not return,” he said. “That way, we will please him should he come again, and if not...”

  “We will be the new masters,” the other voice said. It was oily and subservient but burned with unmistakable ambition.

  There was the sound of a brief scuffle, as if Peregrine had grabbed his conspirator by the collar. “There can be only one master,” he growled. “And what is his name?”

  “Arg…” the other responded in a half choking voice before being shaken again. “P... P... Peregrine? Master Peregrine?”

  Valentina grabbed my wrist and pointed to the right, then to herself and then to the left. I shrugged and she repeated the movement, this time hissing “you” and “me” as she stabbed her finger. I understood. She was going to target Peregrine, and I would deal with the other.

  They were close now and the sound of Peregrine's voice seemed to be coming almost from above us. Valentina squeezed my wrist quickly and then leapt upwards. A moment later, I followed her, to find myself face to face with a vampire.

  His mouth opened in shock to expose yellow canines and a red tongue set in the face of an old man with the thin dregs of a beard and hair framing an emaciated frame. I took all of this in as I grabbed his head and brought it down, aware as I did it that Valentina and Peregrine were struggling beside me.

  The old man collapsed onto the ground beside me and I was ready with my dagger. As I raised it high, he thrust out his hands to shield himself and, for a moment, I felt the tug of overwhelming pity. Here was an old man, piteously begging for his life.

  But I was no longer meek John Makepeace, the drunken fop. I had no mercy left in my soul. I brought my knife down in one brutal movement and fell back, repulsed, as his lifeblood leapt upwards and a guttural scream fled from his lips.