A Cautionary Tale for Young Vampires

by G. D. Falksen

  “And this is Doctor von Fuchsburg,” Constantine continued, motioning to Friedrich. “He works here during the daytime. And I am certain he would welcome your assistance, wouldn’t he?”

  Friedrich took Sally’s hand and bowed over it, all smiles and charm. Though the display irritated Luka on point of principle, at least it had to be admitted that the boy addressed her as if she were a lady, openly ignoring both their divergent stations and Sally’s occupation. Luka grunted a little under his breath. Whatever else he thought of Friedrich, that much had to be granted. It spoke well of him. And it annoyed Luka to grant the boy anything. Wastrels were far more tolerable when they lacked redeeming qualities or depth of character.

  “It will be a delight to work with you, Miss Conner,” Friedrich said. “Every assistance is welcome, and I am certain you’ll be of great help.”

  “I’ll do me best,” Sally said. After a few moments, she looked up at Friedrich, face scrunched in uncertainty, and asked, “Are ya foreign?”

  “I, um…” Friedrich said, taken aback.

  Luka concealed a laugh and said, “Gentlemen, Miss, I think I shall take my leave of you. If anything troubles you, send word to the Old Jago.”

  Constantine looked at him, surprised.

  “Oh, well…yes, of course,” he said.

  Luka nodded in farewell to him and did not wait for replies from either Sally or Friedrich.

  He crossed Osborne Court and returned to the street, where he was suddenly accosted by Cat. She appeared seemingly from nowhere with a broad smile upon her lips.

  “Good evenin’ Mister Luka!” she exclaimed. “About yer rounds, are ye?”

  “Something of that nature,” Luka replied. “And you?”

  “Lookin’ fer ye,” Cat said.

  “Why?”

  Cat shrugged and said, “Pardon me fer sayin’ so, Mister Luka, but I’m a girl o’ action. I’ve no patience fer sittin’ on me own waitin’ fer somethin’ te do. I need an occupation…since abandonin’ me old one, which I’m quite pleased to have done, thank ye.”

  Luka shrugged and began walking along the street. Cat fell into step beside him.

  “I thought you were my spymaster,” Luka said.

  “Psh,” Cat scoffed. “Gatherin’ gossip from urchins and whores? I do me best, but ’tis scarcely an occupation, is it?”

  “What would you rather be doing?” Luka asked.

  Cat thought for a moment and replied, “Patrolin’ wi’ ye.”

  “No one patrols with me,” Luka said.

  “Ye could always change tha’,” Cat said, rather smugly.

  Luka grunted in irritation. The girl was treating it all like it were a game, not that he could much blame her, upon reflection. Her situation had changed so dramatically in the past week that it must have seemed anything was possible. Bates’s men were little better and for much the same reason.

  “No, I could not,” Luka said. “I patrol by myself for a reason. And there is a reason why you do not patrol at all.”

  “’Cause I’m a girl?” Cat asked, frowning.

  “Because you are not trained to fight,” Luka corrected.

  Cat snorted and said, “Nor are Mister Bates an’ his men, ye know.”

  “Not properly, no,” Luka agreed, “which must be amended. But they have fought before, and that gives them something to work with.”

  “I’ve fought as well,” Cat said.

  “Have you?” Luka asked, as they turned into an adjacent street.

  “Ye try livin’ as a girl on yer own ’round here an’ see how long it takes te get inte a fight.” Cat crossed her arms angrily. “After Miss Sharpe threw me out, I had te watch after meself wi’ customers. Jones an’ his men were great at demandin’ their cut o’ me money. No’ so much when it came te offerin’ protection.”

  Luka’s moustache quivered with anger. He could not abide men like Jones. They claimed a one-sided contract. They expected money, respect, and obedience but offered little in return. It was bad governance and it was craven.

  “A fighter or not, I do not think you ready for this work,” Luka said. “There is one thing Bates’s men have that you do not.”

  “Oh?” Cat asked, scowling. “An’ wha’s tha’?”

  “Fifty to a hundred extra pounds,” Luka replied. “If my soldiers are to do their duty with so little training, they need at least some raw power to compensate.”

  Cat gave him an angry look and glanced away. After a little while she looked back and said:

  “Well teach me, then. If I’ve no’ the right experience, then show me wha’ I must learn! Or do ye think it unseemly fer me te know how te look after meself?”

  Luka almost laughed at the idea. Unseemly for a woman to look after her own protection? What sort of a benighted land was this? But then, he reminded himself, the whole world was a benighted land. Only the Shashavani lived lives guided by wisdom. Where the Law of Shashava was unknown, all people lived in folly.

  “On the contrary,” he said, “I think that a woman ought to know such things.”

  “Do ye now?” Cat asked, craning her head to look at him. Her expression was something between curiosity and disbelief. “Tha’s a queer sort o’ thing te believe, ye know.”

  “It is nothing more than good judgment,” Luka said. “It is foolish for women to place their own defense in the hands of men.”

  “How ye reckon tha’?” Cat asked, scoffing at him.

  Luka turned down an alleyway that cut across toward Honey Lane. Bates’s men had the main roads—if they could be called such—well in hand. But it was in the hidden places that trouble might still linger.

  “It is rather like asking the fox to guard the henhouse,” he replied.

  Cat snorted. “Tha’s what ye get a rooster fer,” she said.

  “What is a rooster,” Luka said, “but a chicken that can fight?”

  “Tha’s one way o’ describin’ it,” Cat said. She made a face at him. “Tho’ ye’re missin’ an important distinction twixt the two, ye know.”

  Luka paused midway along they alley where it intersected with another side street. The main roads were narrow and cramped enough, but the alleyways that riddled the neighborhood were hideous. It was a rat’s warren in all but name.

  Cat stopped next to him and looked in either direction, copying Luka’s own movements.

  “Looks clear,” she whispered.

  “Looks can deceive,” Luka murmured.

  Somebody was lurking further down the adjacent alleyway, possibly several somebodies. But they did not seem to have noticed Luka and Cat, so Luka tucked himself up against the wall and waited, peeking out ever so slightly. It was probably just a vagrant or a drunk, but at least it would be practice.

  “So?” Cat asked, pressing herself up against the wall beside him and looking back the way they had come. That was to her credit: she knew something was afoot, and she was already taking precautions. “Will ye teach me how te protect me henhouse?”

  Luka almost snorted at the euphemism. Glancing at her, he said, “Yes, very well. In fact, perhaps it is something I ought to teach the other women of the street as well.”

  “Wha’, teach ’em te be their own pimps?” Cat asked. Her tone was facetious but not dismissive.

  “It sounds better said my way,” Luka replied, keeping his gaze upon the shadows down the alleyway.

  Cat giggled a little.

  “I’ll spread the word,” she said. “I daresay yer efforts ’ll be much appreciated.”

  She fell silent for a little while, and Luka paid her little mind. As he studied the alleyway, he began to identify two men lurking in the darkness, hidden in a doorway and an alcove set facing one another. Though he did not see them clearly, he suspected they were thieves.

  Presently, he felt Cat’s hand brush his. He glanced at her. She looked up at him, about to say something, then suddenly blushed and looked away. Luka exhaled slowly in irritation. He easily suspected what great and difficult
subject troubled her, and now was not the time for such nonsense.

  “Mister Luka,” Cat said, “ye know, ye’ve been so very kind te me these past days.… Only…well, a girl likes te show her appreciation an’—”

  “Understand this, Cat,” Luka said, softly but firmly. “We are on patrol. When you are on patrol, the work is everything. If you let yourself become distracted by other matters, you will make a mistake and that mistake may kill you. Now is not the time.”

  Cat looked down, embarrassed and upset at the dismissal, but she quickly set her mouth and nodded firmly.

  “Yes, Mister Luka,” she said. “Pardon me foolishness.”

  “It is pardoned,” Luka replied.

  He paused. It was quite remarkable that the girl could set what troubled her aside so readily without complaint, but perhaps it would be best to settle the matter while it was still at hand. The men in the alleyway had neither heard nor seen them, and they were still waiting for something. For the moment, Luka had nothing but time.

  “Though perhaps this once, we can take a moment to address what troubles you,” he said, glancing at her before resuming his watch. “But do not make a habit of it.”

  “’Course, Mister Luka,” Cat said.

  “You want to know why I haven’t taken you to my bed yet,” Luka said.

  “Aye,” Cat said. “I donne understand ye. Ye know I’d go willin’ly.”

  “A gentleman assumes nothing of the kind,” Luka said.

  “Wha’s wrong wi’ me?” Cat asked. “Am I too plain? Too thin? I could fatten meself up for ye.…”

  “Nothing is wrong with you,” Luka said, stopping her before she could ramble off a list of complaints about herself. “I act for my own reasons, which have nothing to do with your appearance or conduct.”

  This seemed to puzzle Cat, who thought for a moment before asking, “Are ye a mandrake then?”

  “I don’t know what that means,” Luka said.

  “Oh, it means ye fancy—” Cat began.

  “Neither do I much care,” Luka added. “I will tell you this: you are too young.”

  “Too young?” Cat asked, seemingly shocked by the concept. Luka was almost unnerved by her surprise.

  “You are the same age as my youngest niece,” Luka said.

  When she was that age, he thought. For, in truth, his dear niece Elene had grown up, lived, and died a hundred years ago. But Cat could not be older than her mid teens, little more than a child. And what man who was a man could desire a child?

  “I remind ye of yer niece?” Cat asked.

  “Yes,” Luka said.

  Cat scrunched up her face, deep in thought, and placed her hands on her hips.

  “Well, truth be told,” she said, “I rather like the sound o’ tha’. Still—”

  “It may astonish you to know, child,” Luka said, “that not every man secretly desires to bed his daughter.”

  Cat snorted and said, “Damn near e’ery man I’ve met.”

  “Clearly you should keep better company,” Luka said. He looked at Cat and put a hand on her shoulder. “So no more talk of this, understood?”

  “Yessir, Mister Luka,” Cat answered, nodding firmly.

  Luka looked back around the corner and saw the two men stirring. Something was happening. Motioning Cat to silence, he ducked into a crouch and moved into the adjacent alleyway. As he slowly approached the hidden men, he saw a new pair arrive at the far end: a woman, by her silhouette, and a more than slightly intoxicated man who stumbled about, led by his companion.

  And in that moment, Luka knew what was happening. The drunken fellow was being lured into the alleyway to be coshed. Coshing was a staple industry of the neighborhood, a practice that could only be stamped out with a careful mixture of vigilance, violence, and work. As he approached, he saw the lurking men rise from their place of concealment. One drew a cosh—a foot-long iron rod—from inside his sleeve and prepared to strike the hapless drunk.

  Luka did not have time to stop the blow from landing, so he did not even try. No sense in giving away his position for no likely purpose. The drunk made a noise and tumbled forward into the muck of the alleyway. The two men in hiding quickly rolled the unconscious drunk onto his back and began searching through his pockets.

  “If the woman runs, stop her,” Luka murmured to Cat.

  “Right y’are,” Cat replied.

  At a few paces away, one of the men looked up and saw Luka in the darkness. He shouted and bolted to his feet, reaching for the cosh. Luka bounded across the remaining distance and blocked the overhead swing of the cosh with one hand. With the other, he punched the man in the throat and threw him to the ground.

  The second man lunged from behind and punched Luka in the side. The blow hurt and Luka grunted in pain. He lashed out with his elbow, catching the man somewhere near the eye. The man screamed and pushed Luka into the wall. Luka grabbed for the brick surface to steady himself and turned in place.

  The man had rallied from the strike and quickly drew a knife. He thrust the blade at Luka, but he was too slow, and Luka dove forward and caught his wrist, forcing the knife away. Luka braced his forearm against the man’s collar and pressed him back against the wall, holding him in place and struggling to choke the air from him without releasing the knife.

  Luka glanced sideways and saw the woman accomplice staring at him.

  She’s going to run, he thought.

  And sure enough, she did, turning in place and fleeing into the street. The man who Luka held pinned against the wall began screaming after her.

  “Cat!” Luka shouted.

  “I’ve got her!”

  Cat dashed past him and gave chase, vanishing around the corner of the street.

  Luka turned back to the man who struggled against his grasp. The man lashed out with his free hand, but Luka turned his shoulder against the blows and increased the pressure upon the man’s throat. The man kicked, and Luka kicked back harder.

  Finally, a few hard blows of the man’s hand against the wall forced him to drop the knife, and Luka felt confident in releasing him. He threw the man onto the ground and kicked him in the side. The man groaned and rocked back and forth, clutching himself.

  By now the first man, the fellow with the cosh, had gained enough air to struggled to his knees, so Luka gave him a couple of kicks as well to knock him back onto the ground. Kneeling over the two men, Luka took the cosh and held it up for them to see.

  “Robbery is forbidden,” he said. “Did you not hear? And that includes coshing!”

  “P-please, sir!” one of the men cried.

  Luka turned to him and said, slowly and precisely, “This is a warning to you. If I catch you at this again, I will kill you. Find yourself honest work and do not prey upon your fellow men. The time for such things has passed.”

  He stood and hauled the two men to their feet. Scowling, he shoved them toward the street, and they quickly took to their heels. Luka knelt by their victim and checked him. The poor fellow was still unconscious, and it might do for him to see Doctor Constantine.

  Luka walked to the street and saw Cat some dozen feet away, sitting proudly on top of the woman accomplice, who lay upon the ground, struggling to get free. At the sight of Luka, Cat waved excitedly with one hand, before giving the woman a shove to keep her from getting up.

  “I got her!” Cat announced proudly. “Ran like the wind, she did, but she couldne outrun me!”

  “Well done,” Luka said, as he approached. He offered Cat a hand up. Then, reaching down, he took Cat’s prisoner by the collar and pulled her to her feet. “Listen to me,” he said. “You are an accomplice in coshing. That is forbidden.”

  The woman snarled at him and cried, “Gittoff me!”

  “Do not try my patience!” Luka said, grabbing her by the chin with his free hand. “This is your first offense, so I will let you go. Either find yourself honest work, or leave this place and never return. If I catch you at this again, I will kill you. Do you
understand me?”

  “You woul—”

  “I would and I will,” Luka said. “But if you do not believe me, if my warning will serve no purpose, I will kill you now and be done with it.”

  The woman was immediately silent. She stared into his eyes, the look of fear growing in her own. Suddenly she pulled away, frantic to escape, and Luka let her go. Released from his grasp, she fell to the street, stood, and fled into the night.

  There was silence for a little while before Cat spoke:

  “An’ off she goes. Ye just keep lettin’ ’em run off.”

  “Either they will learn, they will leave, or they will die. It is really very simple,” Luka explained.

  Cat made a face. “Ye should’ve hit her a few times,” she said. “Get the point across.”

  “I think not,” Luka said, with a disapproving grunt. “Violence is too significant a thing to waste on threats. If the criminals will not heed my words, they will be punished. But why should I beat them before my warning is violated, like a coward who doubts his own authority?”

  “Mmm,” Cat answered, sounding somewhat less than convinced. “An’ killin’s the right answer te thievin’, ye think?”

  “No,” Luka said, “but in this time and in this place, it is the necessary one. What other punishment can I give them that they will heed? A fine? They have little money as is, which is why they turn to stealing. Incarceration? Even if I had a prison to put them in, I cannot imagine it would be much worse than the conditions they already suffer under. No, the threat of death is the ultimate foundation of the law, and I must build my peace upon it.”

  Luka rubbed his hands together against the cold and added, “Come, let us rouse their intended victim and help the poor man to the clinic.”

  “Aye, Mister Luka,” Cat said, with a sudden smile. “Nothin’ follows a good fight so well as a good deed, eh?”

  “Something of that nature,” Luka replied.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Blackmoor

  Late September

  Cousin Robert proved sincere in his offer to find a compromise on the matter of Grandfather’s estate. Indeed, he was almost too eager to resolve it amicably, offering an array of suggestions worded in such a way as to sound appealing but ultimately turning the inheritance back to the Blackmoor Varanuses. Could she will the estate to them on her death? Did she have a daughter who could be married to Robert’s son Edward? Or perhaps a son who could wed Elizabeth or Mary—though he would have to take the Varanus name. And of course, in the event of marriage, the inheritance of the estate would have to be diverted to whichever child married into the Varanus line.