A Cautionary Tale for Young Vampires

by G. D. Falksen

  Friedrich opened his mouth to reply but looked rather bewildered and simply stood there saying nothing.

  “Doctor von Fuchsburg, have you met my husband, the Lord Shashavani?” Varanus continued, acting as if Friedrich were simply one of her medical associates. “Iosef, this is Doctor von Fuchsburg.”

  Iosef looked amused. Why did he look amused? What right did he have to look amused?

  At her side, Korbinian laughed a little and said, “Liebchen, he knows.”

  “No he doesn’t,” Varanus murmured back, keeping her smile firm.

  “Of course he knows,” Korbinian said. “They obviously came here together. There is a reason why they were standing next to one another.” He brushed his fingers against her hair. “And besides that, our son has your hair.”

  “He doesn’t know,” Varanus insisted under her breath.

  “He does,” Korbinian replied.

  “Indeed,” Iosef said, glancing at Friedrich, “your son and I have already met.”

  Varanus kept her pleasant expression, but inwardly she cursed up a storm.

  “Yes,” Friedrich said, excited, “I just met Joseph yesterday. A splendid fellow!” He leaned forward and added, not quite under his breath, “Younger than I thought though.”

  “Quite,” Varanus said.

  “I think we’ve rather hit it off, actually,” Friedrich said.

  From the expression in Iosef’s eyes, Varanus could tell that it was not the case. Not even remotely so. Iosef’s look was one of great and abiding patience. Well, at least it meant Friedrich would not become Shashavani before producing heirs—if he ever became Shashavani at all, which would certainly not happen if he couldn’t learn to pronounce Iosef’s name properly.

  Varanus took Iosef by the arm and began leading him toward the street. She nodded at Ekaterine, who, taking her meaning, began conversing lightly with Friedrich to keep him occupied. The two of them fell in behind Varanus and Iosef a few paces back and easily out of earshot.

  “You are late,” Iosef said, as they walked.

  “Late?” Varanus asked. “I only just received your letter this morning.”

  “You know what I mean,” Iosef said. He did not sound angry, but rather frank and purposeful. “You left for two months to settle your grandfather’s estate. It has since been almost two years. Late.”

  “I have been detained,” Varanus said. “And besides,” she added, “I cannot imagine that my presence or absence in the House of Shashava will make any great difference. Is not Sophio pleased to have me gone?”

  “She is not,” Iosef replied. “For the first year she scarcely noticed your absence, but I fear that it has recently come to her attention. She is ill at ease with the thought of so young a member of the family gallivanting about the world unsupervised. And so, I have come to remind you to return.”

  “You came all this way just for that?” Varanus asked.

  Iosef was silent for a little while before answering, “No. I am here for another purpose.”

  The gravity of his tone and the serious look in his eyes piqued her curiosity.

  “May I inquire what purpose that may be?” she asked.

  Iosef was silent again. Presently, he spoke:

  “I have reason to believe that there is a Basilisk in this city. Whomever it is, I intend to find it and its purpose for being here.”

  A Basilisk. Varanus frowned. Taken from the name of the mythic serpent, it was a term used to signify Shashavani who had gone rogue, who had been exiled for their corruption or excess. They were the “little kings” who placed themselves above the Law of Shashava and who preferred mastery over mankind to guardianship of knowledge. Like the crowned serpent that killed all with its gaze, the Shashavani Basilisks left death and devastation wherever they walked. The word also drew upon the name of Basileios, the most wicked and despised of all the renegade Shashavani, though he had mercifully been put down in the great civil war centuries ago.

  A terrible thought suddenly occurred to her. It was an absurd notion, but.…

  “You don’t mean…” she said, trying to find the words. “Could this Basilisk be the murderer?”

  “Murderer?” Iosef asked. It took him a few moments, but presently he gave a little “ah” of understanding. “You mean the murderer in the East End? This ‘Jack the Ripper’?”

  “Is that what they’re calling him now?” Varanus asked, sighing. What a lurid name. No doubt the papers were responsible for it. “But yes, could it be him? Such slaughter.…”

  Iosef thought about the question and shook his head.

  “No,” he said, “I find it unlikely. Even a Basilisk would show more finesse in disposing of its victims. Unless it wished to make a scene of things, but then the killings would be more public, more disruptive to the fabric of society. A Basilisk causing terror would massacre government ministers, prominent businessmen, aristocrats, and place them all on display somewhere. While a Basilisk killing to kill, killing for pleasure or for some obscene purpose.…” He frowned. “I shall put it this way: the one I seek, I suspect the police will never find its victims. No, this Whitechapel Killer is an all too human monster, Varanus. The shadow of death produces monsters aplenty, without need for the living to do so in its stead.”

  “That is the truth,” Varanus agreed. She changed the subject. “When must I leave?”

  “Soon,” Iosef said. “Which is to say, by year’s end.”

  “Three months is ‘soon’?” Varanus asked.

  “You forget, Varanus, we measure time differently than do those languishing in the shadow of death.” Iosef gave one of his narrow smiles. “Three months is practically overnight.”

  Varanus almost laughed at the idea. But it was true. She had still lived but one lifetime. In a hundred years, she might understand such things better.

  In the street, she turned to Ekaterine.

  “I am going to check on the clinic,” she said. “Would you be so good as to escort the bags to the house? And feel free to turn in for the evening if you like. I expect to be back before sunrise.”

  “As you like,” Ekaterine said, grinning. “I shall enjoy a quiet night with an improving book.”

  “Wuthering Heights…?” Varanus predicted.

  “The Mysteries of Udolpho,” Ekaterine replied.

  “Have a grand time,” Varanus said.

  “I should attend to my business,” Iosef said, placing his hat upon his head. “I will visit tomorrow to see how things are.”

  “Of course,” Varanus replied. She frowned. “Before you go, tell me, where is Luka?”

  “He is at your clinic,” Iosef told her. “With your friend, Doctor Constantine.”

  Ah, Varanus thought. So it seemed Iosef had met the whole lot.

  “Marvelous,” she said.

  Friedrich cleared his throat and said, “I think that I shall go along to my club, if we are all going our separate ways. Unless.…” He smiled at Ekatereine. “Unless Auntie Ekaterine would care for a little company before she retires to bed.”

  Varanus winced inwardly. Granted, Ekaterine was not Friedrich’s actual aunt—and even were it true, she would still not be a blood relation—but did the boy have to flirt with her so blatantly? What the Devil were they teaching him in Fuchsburg?

  “Alas,” Ekaterine said, patting Friedrich on the arm and returning the smile, “I fear Miss Radcliffe is to have my undivided attention tonight. But thank you for the offer.”

  “I could always carry the bags for you,” Friedrich offered, undaunted.

  “That is what servants are for, Alistair,” Varanus said. “So do not let us keep you from your club.”

  Friedrich chuckled a little. “Of course, Mother. Until tomorrow.”

  He bowed slightly to each in turn before hailing a waiting cab and departing into the night.

  Varanus watched him go and then folded her hands.

  “And with that firmly settled, I must be on my own way,” she said. “Good luck, my lord,�
� she told Iosef. “And enjoy yourself, Ekaterine.”

  “Have no doubt about that,” Ekaterine said. “Dear Miss Radcliffe and I are well on our way to becoming fast friends.”

  “I was afraid of that,” Varanus said.

  * * * *

  “You should count yourself very fortunate, Luka,” Varanus said, arms folded as she looked at him with an admonishing expression. “For reasons known only to God, He has decided to spare you when by rights He ought to have taken your life.”

  She stood at Luka’s bedside in the back of the clinic, more than a little perturbed by what she had learned in the past hour. The whole city was in a shambles, apparently; Luka was severely injured; Osborne Court was now run by a gang—Luka’s gang, granted, but a gang all the same; and somehow a tremendous amount of the funds left to Luka’s discretion had upped and vanished into the night.

  “I know that, Doctor,” Luka said. Despite the obvious pain he was in, his sardonic mirth was undiminished. “But the Lord saw fit to preserve me, and so I am here. Who are we to question?”

  “Five bullets, Luka,” Varanus said. “Five. Have you never heard of hiding behind cover?”

  “It was not an option at the time,” Luka replied.

  “Thankfully none of them struck an organ,” Varanus said, “nor bone as far as I can tell. And you should be especially grateful for that, because another centimeter to the left and your shoulder joint might no longer exist.”

  “The Lord is my shield,” Luka said, smirking. “As I am His sword.”

  “Oh hush,” Varanus told him. Luka was endeavoring to have fun at her expense, and she would have none of it. “And what’s more, how do you explain your accounts? You have spent more of my money in three weeks than you ought to have been spending in three months!”

  She held up the page of accounts that he had left for her and said:

  “I mean, look at this. Your so-called ‘discretionary spending’ includes wages for Bates and thirty other men—”

  “And they have earned every penny,” Luka said.

  “Informants,” Varanus continued. “Wine imported from France! Building repairs. Clothing allowances. Shoes! Fifty pairs of shoes!”

  “Do not forget the accompanying socks,” Luka reminded. “It was a charitable donation to those in need. And it earned me a tremendous amount of local support.”

  “A reasonable cause,” Varanus admitted, sighing. “A dozen overcoats, I assume for the same reason. Money for a cat.” She lowered the list. “A cat?”

  “For Cat,” Luka said. “The leader of my informants.”

  The ginger girl sitting at Luka’s bedside perked up and nodded quickly.

  “Tha’d be me,” she said. “An’ worth e’ry penny, I assure ye.”

  Varanus raised an eyebrow skeptically. The girl looked more like a street rat than a spymaster—which was probably the case.

  “I’m sure,” she said. She returned to Luka and the spending: “And lest I forget, for some reason you thought it right to purchase two dozen revolvers and five thousand rounds of ammunition! Why?”

  “I had to arm my men,” Luka said. “And I had to teach them to shoot properly so they didn’t kill anyone by accident. Half that ammunition was spent during training.”

  Varanus shook her head. Luka had well overstepped his bounds in his administration of Osborne Court, and the fact that it was showing results simply added insult to injury.

  “Luka, your instructions for managing the clinic did not extend to forming your own private army,” she said.

  “I had no choice,” Luka replied. “You must understand, Doctor, that the East End is a wilderness. It is filled with…tribes. Violent tribes.”

  “You mean the gangs,” Varanus said. “No need to be artful. Is Rome ‘but a wilderness of tigers?’ Of course it is.”

  “Yes,” Luka said. “These gangs are like little armies led by petty warlords. The only way to stop them is to form another army to oppose them. You drove Jones out once, Doctor—and very well done in carrying it out—but he returned. He sent his men back time and again until I killed him. And in the meanwhile, other gangs tried to move in and replace him. The police are useless. Most of the time they neither care nor dare to enter the neighborhood. So I have created my own police and enforced my own laws. And it has brought peace.”

  “For now,” Varanus said.

  “Yes, for now,” Luka agreed. “And that is longer than it would have been otherwise. It is never good to live in the East End, but at least in my territory it is more or less safe. People walk the streets without fear. Where else in this part of London can a person do that?”

  “Not in Whitechapel, certainly,” Varanus said. “Perhaps you should send a letter to the Vigilance Committee apprising them of your methods.”

  “I have considered it,” Luka said, smirking ever so slightly. “I note your sarcasm, but the Whitechapel Killer has yet to strike in the vicinity of Osborne Court. Nor have there been any other murders here since I took command. For though ‘Saucy Jack’ enjoys all of the headlines, he is not the only man about in London committing murder.”

  “Aye,” the girl called Cat said, smirking, “ye do as well.”

  “I do not murder,” Luka told the girl. “I execute. For I am the Law, and when the Law kills, it is called execution.”

  “Pssh,” Cat scoffed.

  “Yes, and you’ve also formed your own private army,” Varanus said. “I expected you to patrol the area once a night or stand guard outside, not recruit a gang and give them all firearms.”

  “Doctor,” Luka said, “you must understand, this neighborhood is in chaos. One cannot protect the clinic without protecting the district. And that is what I did.”

  Varanus sighed at him and brushed a stray lock of hair out of her face. Luka was being insufferable…but he was right. Still, there was no reason to admit it openly.

  “Is that so?” she asked, rhetorically. “Perhaps I should hire you out to other neighborhoods to help set them in line.”

  “Again you jest, Doctor,” Luka said. “Do not forget that between Perrott Street and Meakin Row was once one of the worst rookeries in London.”

  “Still is,” Cat interjected.

  Luka looked at her and said, “You are not helping.”

  Varanus heard the clinic door open, and she looked back into the front room in time to see Doctor Constantine enter, rubbing his hands against the evening cold. He placed his hat and coat on the stand near the door and then, turning, spotted Varanus watching him. He smiled and raised his hand in greeting, hurrying to meet her at Luka’s bedside.

  “Good evening Doctor,” he said, politely bowing his head. “I wasn’t aware that you were back.”

  “I have only just arrived,” Varanus said.

  “Oh yes, I know,” Constantine said. “I received your letter. I’d have met you at the station myself, but I’m afraid there were one or two invalids I had promised to visit at home tonight—hence my absence just now. I asked Doctor von Fuchsburg to go in my place.”

  “And he did,” Varanus said.

  “I hope you haven’t come looking for me,” Constantine said, laughing and looking a little guilty. “I certainly wouldn’t want to keep you from your rest after a long journey.”

  “No, no,” Varanus replied. “I merely thought I should look in and see how things were before I retired for the evening, unless you would prefer I resume my duties immediately. You’ve been very good about managing the place, but I suspect I’m beginning to move from charity to imposition.”

  Constantine scoffed and waved the apology away.

  “Oh, nonsense, Doctor,” he said. “Utter nonsense. Only too happy to contribute. In fact, with your permission, I would like to carry on assisting here a few days a week.”

  “Any help would be welcome,” Varanus admitted. “To be honest, I will have to return home eventually. If you would be willing to take over the clinic when I do leave, I would be very grateful.”

&
nbsp; “It would be my pleasure,” Constantine said. He took another look around and turned to Luka and the girl called Cat. “I wonder, have either of you seen Miss Conner today? I’d expected her to be here by now.”

  “Miss Conner?” Varanus asked.

  “Yes, the young woman you brought to me at the London Hospital last month,” Constantine replied.

  “Oh, Sally,” Varanus said. She was not accustomed to calling the girl by her surname. “How is she?”

  “Significantly recovered,” Constantine said. “In fact, since releasing her from the hospital, I have taken her into my employ. I am teaching her to be a nurse.”

  “A nurse?” Varanus was not entirely certain how to respond. It was surprising, but it pleased her to think the girl might have a chance at honest work. “But in light of her previous occupation, will she be able to find employment?”

  Constantine frowned, perhaps a little embarrassed at the medical establishment as he replied, “Well, no, not if they are aware of it. But that is precisely why I am employing her now. Perhaps in a year or so, armed with a reference from me, she can go to another city and start a new life.”

  “An admirable sentiment, Doctor Constantine,” Varanus said, smiling at the thought. She was skeptical about how well the scheme would work, but at least Constantine’s heart was in the right place.

  “But I had expected her to be in by now,” Constantine continued, looking at Luka and Cat. “I haven’t seen her since she left for home yesterday evening.” He added, to Varanus, “She was assisting Doctor von Fuchsburg with the daytime shift.”

  “Doctor von Fuchsburg is working here as well?” Varanus asked.

  “Yes, and a great help he’s been,” Constantine said. “Really, a very intelligent young man. A bit enthusiastic at times, but then again he’s Continental. But in all, I think, the sort of man a mother can be proud of.”

  This made Varanus smile a little.

  “I fear I haven’t seen her today,” Luka told Constantine. “Of course, I have been asleep most of the time, so I am not the most reliable of witnesses.”

  “I’ve no’ seen her either,” Cat said. She quickly hopped to her feet. “Tho’ I could jus’ go an’ call fer her at her rooms. Most like she’s taken sick or somethin’.”