The Cabinet of Dr Blessing (The Dr Blessing Collection Parts 1-3): A Gothic Victorian Horror Tale

by Rollins, Jack

  “Never mind who I am, you silly old bugger! Where is he?”

  One of the younger accountants rose to his feet. This man’s tight-fitting suit belied a sound physical condition and the promise of a good struggle. “A bit strong, don’t you think?” he said, determination in both his voice and his eyes.

  “Tell me where he is and I will leave you in peace.”

  “He has gone to meet a very important client. Now if you don’t mind,” the young accountant said, issuing a dismissive wave, flicking two fingers towards the door.

  Charles pounced and grabbed the same two fingers, twisting, turning the young man’s hand and arm over, pinning him to his desk. The other men cried out in protest as books and papers were upset. “Tell me where he is, whelp!”

  “Mrs Burton! The clinic! The fire!”

  “Fire? I’ll give you a fire!” Charles exerted more force and heard the fingers snap. He pushed the young man over onto his desk, howling in agony and clutching his broken fingers. Charles knocked a candle over onto a rough stack of papers and watched as the leaves curled and blackened, bursting into flames. “There’s a fire for you. Bastards!”

  He was on the street again, yelling at the driver, “Poland Street, now!”

  Twenty-one.

  Having ushered Lily away to the study with Niamh, it had taken Mary mere moments to inspect Margaret Blessing’s corpse. Margaret’s wide eyes spoke of her terror and reddish purple marks around her jaw and upper lip told of a restraint over her mouth as she was murdered. This explained to Mary why Margaret’s mouth was closed and not wide open mid-scream.

  She had been drained. Of course, it was almost impossible for a body to be completely drained; that was just an expression. It was possible and likely, however, that the creature had drawn up to nine pints of blood from her victim. Its victim, Mary corrected her thoughts. No good thinking like Dr Blessing, she thought, the creature is a thing and an evil thing at that.

  Mary noted that Margaret was in her night-gown, and the puncture wounds on her inner thigh made her shudder as she realised that the creature had possibly been hiding in the bed, or had manipulated the doctor into releasing it under the covers. A horrible way for anybody to die, Mary considered, but one she was only too familiar with.

  Being, by De Omori standards, drained and there not having been left with sufficient quantity of the vehicle with which to carry the venom around her body, Mary knew that Margaret was truly dead. There was no indication that Margaret had consumed blood following her bite anyway, so on the strength of both of these factors, Mary knew that driving a stake into Margaret’s chest, or to sever her head was both pointless and an indignity too far for this poor woman.

  The only consolation Mary could think of was that shortly after the initial shock of the attack, the creature would probably have drawn a pint from her. Soon after this, Margaret would have lost consciousness, rendering her completely vulnerable to the creature. The bite pattern showed that the creature had taken several holds of her, showing desperation or frenzy. This had been a hungry animal. Mary had no doubt that death had taken Margaret very swiftly.

  Mary joined the others in the study and gestured to the heap of clothing on the floor. “He is on the move. He is moving fast and light. He means not to be caught and those thugs who attacked you, well, they mean to catch him.”

  “Or worse,” Lily added ominously. “I can tell you he has two friends. An accountant here in London, Mr Flanders, Francis Flanders and another man called Mr Summerscale. I think he is called Edward Summerscale but I am unsure where he lives.”

  Niamh knelt by the clothes and clutched them close to her face, stroking her cheek with the sleeve of the discarded white shirt. “You are right. He is going to see Mr Summerscale. I know he is heading out to Richmond Upon Thames. He said so,” Niamh sobbed.

  Lily rested a hand on the child’s head and stroked her hair. “Then you have saved Miss Brigham some time and trouble, then. Haven’t you?”

  “He made me swear not to tell!” Niamh cried.

  Mary bent to Niamh and joined Lily in soothing tone and placating hands. “Don’t worry a bit. I’ll have him safe and sound before you know it. This has all been a terrible misunderstanding.”

  “But Mrs Blessing is…”

  “I know, child. I know. And that is why it is all the more important that I find Dr Blessing,” Mary reasoned.

  “It wasn’t him! It was that… thing he takes care of. It has poisoned his mind! It tells him to do things.”

  Lily cooed and soothed Niamh, or tried to, and looked at Mary with a half-puzzled, half-apologetic look on her face.

  “I know the thing you speak of, child,” Mary stated, looking the child in the eyes. Her tone had changed; she spoke to Niamh as an equal, assuring her that she was believed.

  “What is this you speak of?” Lily cried. “A thing? What thing?”

  “It would be difficult for me to explain to you in such a short span of time – I must away to bring this matter to a close as soon as possible. Suffice it to say that within this very house, feet away from you, a dark, nightmarish creature has hidden. It has controlled the good doctor, I suspect his wife, and has possibly had a hold on your own mind.”

  “Impossible!” Lily protested.

  “I realise that it must sound so,” Mary said, picking up the book Blessing had been reading. “When I am gone, see if this book would convince you otherwise.”

  Lily was barely literate. Mrs Blessing had been teaching her to read, but her progress had been slow. She chose not to share this with Mary and Niamh, remaining silent even though she could not for a moment imagine what they were saying to be true.

  Mary took the seat usually occupied by Blessing at his desk. She searched the desk drawers and found a small address book. Flicking through the pages, she quickly found a Richmond address for Summerscale.

  Mary stood once more and motioned for Lily to join her on the landing. She spoke in hushed tones and informed her, “I can only hope that Mrs Burton’s man will go for the closest option to home, and track Mr Flanders. I have to collect some items from my hotel room and I will fly to Richmond. I promise you, I will do my utmost to reach Dr Blessing first, and to try to save him. This child needs him, he is the closest to a father she has… and now with no mother…”

  “I will keep her with me, Miss Brigham, I swear it. I shall try to find a way to prevent her from going back to the streets.”

  “Before I leave I have a request. It would seem rather… indelicate.”

  Before very long Mary was once more striding across the lobby of the Seraphim, wearing a blue dress formerly worn by Margaret Blessing. Margaret had been a slight woman and the fit was close to Mary’s size. Taking the dress had seemed improper, but it had been the only apparent solution – Mary could not have travelled in her own tattered dress.

  Before leaving, Mary was sure to give Lily instructions to inform the police only after another hour, to give her a head start. She said to avoid the subject of Blessing’s flight to Richmond, and to give no details of her involvement at all. Mary had no time to give a detailed cover story, and no time to involve her masters at De Omori who might have smoothed things over with the authorities. Mary could not afford to become embroiled in such matters.

  “Excuse me, Miss,” came a voice from by the reception desk.

  Mary turned to see the porter who had previously produced Blessing’s address for her. “Ah, yes?” Mary hid her impatience as best she could.

  “Were you able to find the doctor earlier?” the porter asked.

  “Oh yes, thank you. Your directions were perfect. Allow me to find you something for your trouble…” she trailed off as she searched her bag for a penny or two.

  “Oh, ma’am, no trouble at all. I was just thinking, what with seeing you there, like, if you hadn’t found Doctor Blessing, the other doctor is here. Doctor McEwan.”

  Upon the sound of the name, Mary turned to find standing next to her, her
mentor, her ally, her love. “You!” she gasped.

  “Mary. We need to talk.”

  “I haven’t much time,” Mary urged.

  “Your room?” McEwan offered.

  “All right,” Mary sighed, despairing at the delay.

  Once in the safety of her room, Mary took out her largest case, opened it on the bed and selected a few weapons and other items of use, placing them in her bag.

  “Preparing for war, Mary?” McEwan asked.

  “Something like that. What are you doing here, Owen, anyway?” she asked, curtly.

  “I had my doubts that this case would be straightforward. I read the notes you left here in your room. It would seem that my doubts had foundation. This doctor has been carrying out unsanctioned experiments with the blood.”

  “He has stumbled onto knowledge it took De Omori decades – centuries – to discover!” Mary snapped.

  “Mary, you seem to be distressed. Whatever is it?” McEwan reached out for her. She recoiled.

  “Shall we leave that to Paris? And memory. If even that.”

  McEwan stepped back, his eyes betraying his shock. “I am sorry, Mary. It was not my intention to… confuse matters.”

  “You know the rules. We are not meant to be together. They know. That is why they want you on The Island. And that is why they want me here.”

  “Dead, Mary? Is that what you think they want? That is why they sent me here, to watch over you from afar. But something unforeseen has occurred, do you not see? This laboratory – the laboratory where this Doctor Blessing has been experimenting – the place that you discovered, do you know that infected rats and all sorts have been streaming out of the place all afternoon? The bites and wounds inflicted, if not checked properly, could cause a vampiric incident the likes of which has never been seen! Imagine: London, tearing itself apart!”

  “I have my mission. You have yours,” Mary said, snapping the fastener closed on her bag.

  “They are the same mission, Mary,” McEwan reasoned. “Limiting the damage of this mad doctor.”

  “He is not mad! He is a victim, Owen. A pawn! That creature has him enthralled. I must – I must save him,” Mary urged. “I have no time to lose. There is another man, a true madman, who is chasing him. If he gets to Blessing first, then he will kill him.”

  McEwan pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, exasperated. “You have to listen to me. This is more important. We must prevent this epidemic.”

  “Is that an order?” Mary snarled, her eyes blazing, defiant.

  “No. I can’t order you, Mary. My Black Mary.”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “Mary, I beg you. Do not go alone. I fear some harm will come to you. I think you might die. Help me to manage the situation here in London first, and then we shall see if we can help this doctor.”

  “Have you heard nothing I have said, Owen? He will be dead. And the crime of it is that the creature will probably survive, to enthral another. And what then? The trail will go cold until God knows how many more innocents will die. I will have none of it. I will fight for every last one.”

  “Except everyone in London,” McEwan snapped.

  “That is your mission. If you need help, then send De Omori a message to request it. Get them off their bloody arses on that island and down here. In fact, why don’t they contact Parliament to declare an emergency?”

  McEwan walked to the window, shaking his head, his hands pressed against his face. “Oh, why do they not simply put up a sign reading: De Omori, vampire hunters, this way!”

  “You can’t stop me from saving him. I have to go now. You should not have come for me. You should have gone to The Island.”

  “I came for you anyway! I came for them! I came for me!” McEwan said, turning on his heels to face her. “I came here because I love you and the thought of never seeing you again frightens me more than anything I have ever faced.”

  The words stung her bitterly, and she longed to throw down her bag and run to his arms, but Mary grasped the door handle instead. “Then be careful,” she said, “I shall return to help you as soon as I can.”

  With that, Mary left her room and left the Seraphim. She decided to take her chance with a coach and horses for the journey, rather than take a hansom cab to the train station and then possibly wait hours for the next train. With the sunset upon her, her coach fought through the crowded roads until she reached the outskirts of London, after which the roads became quieter, and the team of horses were able to thunder freely along the road.

  Twenty-two.

  I was awoken from my slumber by the driver, who had brought the cab to a halt. “Richmond Green,” he announced.

  As my eyes adjusted to the darkness of the late evening, I could feel Panacea’s icy flesh under my coat. I jostled her a little and felt a slight movement in response as well as a grinding disapproval sent directly into my brain. My blood had sustained her thus far, but I could feel her hunger. She needed to feed fully in order to restore her strength. I leapt from the cab, abandoning my remaining jars of curiosities and ran pell-mell into the darkness of the green.

  The driver gave chase, both of us sliding on the damp grass. I stuck out my elbows and sprang forward, with back arched, my child safely fastened in the hollow of my body as I lay prone.

  “You thieving bastard! I should have known the look of you, you were no good!” the driver spat, kicking my backside. “Having me drive you all the way out here and you about to do me out of a fare? Thieving bastard!”

  “Wait, stop, listen to me,” I protested, feigning to wretch and convulse as if suddenly overcome by nausea or apoplexy, “listen to me! I am not a well man! I am not trying to rob you!”

  The driver crouched beside me and muttered, “What in Christ’s name is wrong with you?”

  I glanced ahead and could see nobody in the gloom. I took my chance and rolled onto my back. The man’s eyes grew suddenly wide as I opened my coat and allowed him to see the child.

  She was ready for him, and sprang forwards as the driver drew breath to scream. As soon as her weight shifted from me, I tackled him to the grass and pressed my hands down over his mouth not a moment too soon, stifling his scream into a horrible, muffled moan. I pressed my weight down on his head and curled my legs and body around him as he kicked and clawed.

  His struggles intensified suddenly and I knew that he could feel those icy teeth biting into him. He writhed from side to side, his fingers clawing at my face. I could taste the muck on his fingers as I bit them. His head was coming away from me as he tried to turn his body over, but I twisted with him, rendering his escape impossible. He gasped a lungful of air and I chuckled as I removed a hand from his face and struck his throat, once, twice, thrice. His tongue made a curious clicking sound.

  In my mind I was transported to the bed, pinning Margaret down, seeing the look of betrayal in her eyes. My grip on the driver began to slip.

  Panacea must have sensed my wavering motivation. Immediately, my skull felt as thought it was shrinking. Margaret was forced out of my brain. Panacea needed more, I could sense it. Her will played through my mind like a pianist’s fingers. She wanted greater commitment, needed purer devotion. I had killed for her. I had killed with her… She wanted me to kill like her.

  “You there!” I heard from the footpath nearby. There, a couple had been walking across the green. Our fight had alarmed them.

  “Help! He is murdering me!” I cried.

  The man raced towards me as I felt the driver’s struggles subside. I knew she could manage him from here.

  “What the Devil?” the man gasped, his eyes falling immediately on the small white creature attached to the driver’s neck.

  I rolled and smacked my elbow against his knee, hard. He yelped and staggered back as I got to my feet and threw my weight into him. Sprawled on the ground and in shock, I was on him immediately, landing a right jab on his jaw. I heard teeth clack together violently. I brought both of my fists down on his
nose and eyes, twice, three times, four!

  Oh, to fight like this! To fight for survival, for the protection of my child! I had never before experienced anything like it. I trod over him as I chased his woman, bursting into speed I had never exhibited before. I tore her dress as I dragged her to the ground. I cuffed her jaw and she stopped screaming. I beat her head against a tree until she was unconscious. My eyes did not recognise her as an attractive, delicate woman, I saw her as the enemy. She could bring about the end of Panacea!

  When I dragged my victim back to the child, she had already abandoned the driver and was feeding on the stroller. A part of me knew that I should stop her, that she was growing too rapidly, both in stature and in her psychical ability. I knew that I had already lost control. I could hear her contented sucking and purring. She sent ripples of pleasure throughout my mind and I served her the woman. Oh, to watch her feed! To see her thrive!

  What is this you have awakened in me, daughter? I pondered, my chest heaving with exertion and anticipation as the needles sank into that equine neck. This stranger’s legs, her exquisite legs, twitched as the life was drawn from her.

  Crouching on the grass I reached out and touched her ankle. Her calf. Her thigh. Dare I press on, I thought to myself.

  I crawled over her body, my face inches away from my child’s torso. The child worked from the throat, down to the breast and bit down once more, drinking deeply. I licked my lips and before I knew it, my mouth was at the savaged neck, tongue lapping this stranger’s vital fluid. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. I had no desire to drink it, I wanted to experience it! Taste what she tastes, feel what she feels. I sucked and sucked and gulped until the woman’s life fluid was no longer spurting into my mouth. I knew that she was dead. I drank another gulp to see what that was like – drinking the blood of a dead woman.

  Our hungers sated, I sat upright and cradled the child once more. I laughed and wept all at once. My head shook from side to side and then nodded, next moment my head rolled forwards and then aside drunkenly. My tongue hung loose one moment, then squeezed behind my clenched teeth the next.