The Beast of London: Book 1 of the Mina Murray series

by Goffigan, L. D.

“For some vampires, especially new ones, it may be easier to hunt and feed on animals than humans,” Abe said. “In our observations, vampirism acts more like a disease in animals than as a transformative property as it does in humans. Though there are some transformative traits. As you can see, they behave as if they have been infected by a particularly virulent form of rabies. They become increasingly aggressive, and they reject all food but the blood of other animals.”

  “How is it spread among animals?” I asked, dreading the answer.

  “It appears to simply be contagious. One infected animal drains another of its blood. If that animal survives, it displays similar vampiric traits. Not all animals become infected, but many do. The effect seems to vary—as it does in humans.”

  “Can they infect humans as well?” I asked.

  “Greta?” Abe asked, and I started for a moment. I had been so focused on what he was telling me that I’d nearly forgotten Greta was there, silently hovering behind us. “Would you like to answer this one?”

  Greta nodded, flushing at our renewed attention on her. “No, they cannot. I was bitten while handling two of the martens, but other than smarting a bit, I was fine. Their bites seem to only work on other animals.”

  A flicker of relief went through me. I did not want to learn of another source of vampirism in nature.

  “You mentioned in your wire you have made a discovery?” Abe asked.

  “Yes,” Greta replied. “Several days ago, one of the martens escaped from its cage and killed the animal that infected it. Once that animal died, the ones he infected were cleared of their vampiric traits, and they returned to their pre-infected states. I’ve been observing them, and they remain free of vampirism.”

  As she spoke, she led us to a row of cages in the back of the lab that contained even more badgers and martens. Unlike the other animals, they appeared completely docile and . . . natural. I found it hard to believe that they had been infected at all.

  “Killing the host cured the animals it infected. It’s just as you’ve theorized about vampirism being a biologically symbiotic relationship, Doctor Van Helsing,” Greta continued, her voice rising with eagerness. “The host is linked to the one it creates. Once the host dies, the link is broken and the infection cured.”

  I recalled Lucy’s strange symbiotic link with the vampire who transformed her. A symbiotic relationship made sense.

  “A cure,” I whispered, filled with a sudden rush of hope. If Jonathan had been bitten and transformed, it would be possible to cure him if we killed the one who turned him.

  “There are some caveats,” Greta quickly added. “We don’t know if the effect will be the same in humans and vampires. Even if it is, the host needs to be killed quickly after infection. The infected animals who were cured had been infected within the past week. Others who had been infected for many weeks remained so.”

  “Greta, your discovery is still very impressive. Well done,” Abe said, giving her a look of admiration. At his compliment, Greta flushed once more and nodded her thanks. Though I could tell their relationship did not go beyond the boundaries of student and professor, a small stab of jealousy pierced me at the exchange.

  “This is a natural extension of what we have theorized, and what you proposed back on the Demeter, Mina,” Abe said, turning back to me.

  “Then we must get to Jonathan immediately,” I said, my hope slowly becoming panic. “If he’s already been bitten or transformed by those monsters—”

  “We do not know that,” Abe said gently, before turning back to Greta. “In my wire, I requested capsules of aconite. Were you able to procure them from Professor Christison in the medical school?”

  “Yes. I told him it was for an experiment. He didn’t question me too much,” she said, giving him a reassuring smile before moving over to the far corner of the lab, where she opened a desk drawer and unearthed a small box. She handed it to Abe, and he opened it, examining the capsules inside for several long moments.

  “I’m going to ask you to do something,” he said suddenly, looking back up at Greta. “It falls beyond your duties as my laboratory assistant. If you do not want to do it, then please—”

  “No,” Greta said, pulling herself up to her full height, as if she were a soldier reporting for battle. “I want to help.”

  Abe moved to the doors and closed them.

  “I need you to contact a gunsmith friend of mine, Johan Derichs. He also makes other weapons. He has a shop near Nieuwmarkt. Tell him I need multiple wooden stakes constructed and shipped to me in Klausenburgh, immediately. Mina, we can douse the stakes with the aconite. Hopefully, they will do great damage to any vampires we encounter. If he inquires what they are for, tell him I am traveling to a rural area in the eastern countryside overrun with rabid wolves, and the stakes are for personal defense,” Abe continued.

  I doubted that explanation would satisfy the gunsmith’s curiosity, but I kept silent. Greta did not look surprised or uneasy by the request, and promised to contact him as soon as we left. When Abe stepped aside to write out detailed instructions for the gunsmith, I asked her how she came to know about vampires and work with Abe.

  Her tale was similar to the villagers of Ijsbran. She was from a village that suffered from mysterious disappearances, strange people appearing in the night, cattle drained of blood, and then a final attack in which her grandparents were killed.

  “I heard rumors of Doctor Van Helsing investigating the alleged ‘wolf attacks’. I came to see him. I told him that based on the evidence, I didn’t think they were wolf attacks at all. He was the only one to believe me,” she said, her eyes glistening with tears.

  Abe stopped writing and met her eyes with concern. She gave him a quick nod to indicate that she was all right, but I reached out to place my hand over hers. I knew the gesture was far too intimate for someone I had just met, but I felt a strong solidarity with her. She had also lost loved ones to those monsters.

  Greta gave me a grateful smile as I removed my hand, moving to a long desk against the wall to pick up a small stack of journals and books.

  “Here is the research you asked for,” she said, stepping forward to hand them to Abe. “I’ve also included notes on my experiments with the infected animals.”

  “Thank you, Greta. You have been more helpful than you can ever realize. I will be in touch as much as I can during my travels,” Abe said.

  “Miss Mur—Mina,” Greta corrected herself, as we made our way to the door, her eyes wide with worry. “Doctor Van Helsing. Whatever is happening . . . it frightens me. Please be careful.”

  16

  Pursued

  When we met Seward at the train station, he informed us that dozens of men from several tenement buildings had been reported missing to the police. It proved what we already knew—that the abductions were also occurring here and in other European cities, but my heart still plummeted with dread at the news.

  “News of the Demeter,” Seward added, handing us a folded up newspaper. “It ran aground in northern England last night.”

  Abe took the newspaper, briefly scanning the headline and article, before handing it to me with a frown. The headline screamed:

  TRAGEDY ABOARD THE DEMETER!

  The brief article that followed mentioned the bodies of the crew and its captain, who appeared to have perished from a combination of a mysterious fever and some sort of wolf attack, as there were many bites found on the bodies. No animals were found aboard the ship. The assumption was made that the wolf had made its way on land once the ship ran aground, and all nearby residents should take caution. The police and coroner were still investigating.

  “It’s as I predicted. Some excuse to explain what can’t be explained,” Seward said with a heavy sigh. “I read through the captain’s journal. He mentioned his men acting oddly before they fell ill, and he noted the ship’s stops––several at a port in Varna. Varna’s not far from Transylvania. There’re many brothels in Varna. I’ve an uncle who’s a sai
lor,” he added, with a defensive flush at our raised eyebrows. “He and the other sailors would . . . entertain themselves there when they docked. A brothel’s a good place to infect a group of sailors.”

  We fell silent at his words. If Seward was right, how many other sailors had been transformed? Were other ships filled with sailors on the verge of transformation?

  Our somber silence persisted as we boarded the train, finding seats in a compartment near the rear. When the train pulled away from the station, I looked around at the other passengers. There was a young couple seated opposite us, their heads bent closely together, their hands subtly entwined in their laps, likely off to a honeymoon or some sort of romantic sojourn together. Behind them, an austere-looking businessman had his face buried in his newspaper, his lips silently moving as he read. A harried young mother chased her boisterous young son down the aisle; she quickly caught up to him, taking his hand and leading him to the back of the train. They were all caught up in their own trivial matters, unaware of the threat of vampires, and I was suddenly envious of their ignorance. Only days ago my largest concern had been dealing with Horace’s snobbery and trying to win Mary’s favor.

  At my side, Abe took out Arthur’s map of Transylvania and spread it out on his lap. Our planned route was encircled, and a large mark indicated our destination. The fortress nestled in the midst of the Carpathians.

  “I had Greta gather some information from the university library about fortresses in the region. There is one in particular that matches what we are looking for—Napoeri Castle. It is massive and rather isolated. An ideal place to serve as a prison and build an army. It was built in medieval times and seems to have fallen into disuse a century ago. Many noble families once resided in its walls: the Bathorys, the Draculesti, the Skalas . . . perhaps the one we are looking for is connected to one of these families. We can try to find out more from the locals as we get closer. When we arrive in Klausenburgh, it should take a day or two of riding with stops before we arrive at the fortress—there are several villages we will pass along the way. It is quite likely that they have been attacked by these creatures. We can rally them to join us if they are willing.”

  “If there’s anyone left,” Seward added. At our sharp looks, he held up his hands defensively. “It’s something to consider. Look at how empty Ijsbran was. If villagers in Transylvania have been attacked for years, why would they stay?”

  “Pride. Look at how determined Gijs and the others were to defend their village. There must be others like them,” I said, though I was trying to convince myself more than Seward.

  Seward nodded, but he did not look entirely convinced. He excused himself to head to the smoking compartment, leaving us alone. Once he’d left, I looked back down at the map. What if Seward was right, and the majority of villagers had fled?

  “If only we’d believed the villagers when they first told us of all this,” I whispered, speaking my regret out loud for the first time. “Perhaps then Father would still be alive. Same with Arthur, Lucy, and countless others. I should have listened to you.”

  “Roads like that are endless if you let yourself travel them,” Abe replied. “Even if we had believed the villagers then, no one else would have believed us, as we have seen. We would still be powerless, and the same events would have unfolded. Arthur would still be . . .” His voice wavered, and he fell silent for a moment before continuing, “It is my belief that we had to be forced to embark on this journey.”

  “I keep thinking about Father’s missing journal,” I confessed. “I know that he did not take it with him on his final trip—it wasn’t with his other belongings. And his journal entries in the year prior to his death are not as detailed. I think he was purposefully leaving something out.”

  “I noticed it as well. Such brevity was not like him at all. It is fair to assume that he was hiding his observations about vampires. He was a Cambridge professor and a respected scientist. If word got out that he was treating creatures of folklore as legitimate science . . .”

  “His scientific reputation was ruined anyway,” I murmured, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice.

  “There are those who know otherwise,” Abe said reassuringly. “He was a brilliant man. Many respected him, regardless of how he died.”

  He refolded the map, tucking it away in his bag.

  “Remember when we first arrived at that village in the foothills of the Carpathians? We observed a pair of lynxes from afar. Robert’s excitement was so great, it was as if he had discovered the species himself.”

  I could tell that Abe was purposefully changing the subject, attempting to inject some levity into our dark conversation. But I went along with the shift, smiling at the memory.

  “Of course,” I replied. “He kept whispering that lynxes had been extinct in England for thousands of years. He never thought he’d see one. I think he was cross with us for not sharing his excitement.”

  It was a relief to discuss something other than vampires and their looming threat, and we began to trade stories of our research travels with Father. The Alps to observe herds of chamois; the shores of England to study aquatic animals of the North Sea; rural France to document rare species of insects in its forests. Abe made no mention of our secret courtship or engagement, but it was beneath the surface of every memory and every story, and I had to actively push those particular memories to the back of my mind.

  “I must confess, there is something I cannot envision,” Abe said, during a brief lull.

  “What?” I asked.

  “You becoming a Harker and officially joining London society. Having afternoon tea, arranging dinner parties. Becoming a matriarch like Mary Harker. Do you know that you looked perfectly miserable at the ball while trying to appear happy? I know your forced smiles exceedingly well,” Abe said, looking mildly amused as he studied me. “I am not saying you do not love Jonathan,” he added at my affronted expression. “Our journey proves how much you do. It . . . it is just not the life I envisioned for you.”

  The lightness I had just felt quickly vanished, and my body went rigid with defensive tension. His statements echoed the anxieties I already had about marrying Jonathan, but I didn’t want him to know how accurate his musings were.

  “Jonathan’s life will be my life,” I said, turning away from his perceptive gaze. “It will bring me great joy to become his wife. I certainly couldn’t have wandered around Europe conducting experiments forever. Eventually, I was going to have to settle down.”

  “We planned to never settle,” Abe said, his voice so low that I had to strain to hear him. “Remember?”

  I said nothing, but I did remember. Our future was to be dedicated to both travel and research in Father’s field of comparative anatomy—a field we both found immensely fascinating. We were to conduct experiments all over the world and jointly publish our findings. But that was before.

  After Father’s death, I had been so stricken that the thought of resuming my travels and scientific pursuits was too devastating, even with Abe at my side. The life that I had built for myself in London was safe. A refuge. I just wanted to return to it with Jonathan.

  “I’m content with my life back in London,” I said. “I just want to bring Jonathan home.”

  “Content?” Abe pressed.

  “Abe—” I began, exasperated.

  “All I want is your happiness, Mina. That is all I have ever wanted. But I will say nothing more about the matter,” Abe said, looking away from me.

  Seward soon returned, reeking heavily of tobacco, and we passed the time in silence as the train made its way further and further away from Amsterdam, and then south through the German countryside. I tried to read through Greta’s research, but Abe’s words dominated my thoughts, and I was unable to concentrate.

  I excused myself to head to the smoking compartment, and I sensed Abe’s eyes on me as I walked away. I hated the smell of tobacco, but I was restless and needed to move around.

  The smoking comp
artment was empty when I entered. I remained standing to look out of the windows at the passing countryside. Night had fallen, and the trees outside looked like menacing shadows as the train hurtled past.

  I felt a presence in the compartment behind me, and turned to see Seward enter, his focus also on the passing countryside. He made no move to smoke, which I suspected was for my benefit, and we stood in companionable silence for a lengthy stretch of time.

  “I was born on a farm outside of London. There are times when I miss it—the countryside,” he said finally, his eyes wistfully lingering on a farm as we passed it by. “But I hated it when I was a boy. I just wanted to live in London. My father thought I’d become a farmer like him. I–I still thought he’d be proud when I joined Scotland Yard. When I told my parents, he just said nothing, and my mother wept like a baby. I think they still hope I’ll change my mind and go back to the farm. With what I’ve seen . . . that doesn’t seem like such a mad prospect,” he added gruffly. He tried to give me a light smile, but it was somewhat pained.

  “What we’ve learned is indeed terrifying,” I said. “I think that’s why I was in denial for so long about what was happening. I didn’t want to believe it. Thank you for joining us, Seward,” I added impulsively. “I should have thanked you before. I’m glad you are with us.”

  “I just want to stop these bloody—” he began, abruptly stopping himself. “I’m sorry about the swearing, Mina. I keep forgetting you’re a woman,” he said, and then flushed. “Ah . . . I meant—”

  “It’s quite all right,” I said. “You can swear around me, I won’t disintegrate. Bloody hell, Jesus Christ, devil, damn. There. I’m still standing.”

  Seward looked both astonished and impressed by the oaths, blinking, his eyes wide. I couldn’t stop the smile that curved my lips at the look on his face. This was a man who had seen gruesome dead bodies and vampires feasting on humans, yet the sight of a lady swearing left him stupefied. Seward sheepishly returned my smile, as if reading my thoughts.