Stoker's Wilde

by Steven Hopstaken

  I believe thirteen vampires in all were created that night, but I may have lost count. Most bought their way in, a few were sired by senior members. When the last name had been read and the pitcher nearly drained, Sundry concluded the evening’s ceremony by assuring those of us who remained unchanged that our time would come.

  As the crowd dispersed, Derrick said to me, “I wish I could afford full membership, but the siring process doesn’t look too bad. A moment of pain and then you’re in.”

  A young servant nearby snorted.

  “Excuse me,” I asked him. “Was that humorous?”

  “Nah,” he said, in a distinctly Cockney accent. “The siring ain’t bad, your friend’s right.”

  “You’ve been sired?” Derrick asked eagerly.

  “Sure have. Hurts a bit, no doubt about it. Then it feels good, kind of dreamy like. Sort of like when you’ve had just a bit too much whisky and a bit too little food.”

  “See, Oscar?” Derrick said. “You’re already used to that feeling!”

  “Then what happens?” I asked the Cockney, ignoring Derrick.

  “Well, that first night they treat you like a king, don’t they? It’s your coming out party, like, as long as you don’t sleep through it. There’s food and all. The second night, that’s the one you’ve got to watch out for.”

  “What do you mean?” Derrick asked.

  “Well, what do you think His Grace up there meant when he said you owe your sire your allegiance? Allegiance to this lot means you do whatever they say. If your sire’s a decent sort, that might not be so bad. Me, I wouldn’t know. And notice he didn’t put a time limit on this allegiance. But, well, eternity is the point of the whole thing, isn’t it?”

  Derrick blanched. “What do you have to do?”

  The man chuckled cruelly. “Best I don’t get into it, but let me just tell you this: the Order of the Golden Dawn ain’t all parties in posh Knightsbridge houses. Now if you gents’ll excuse me, the party for the new lot is generally a corker, and even I get to go. I don’t want to miss it.” He tipped an imaginary hat and trotted off to another part of the house.

  We looked at each other for a long moment before Derrick muttered, “I wouldn’t say no to another glass of wine. Do you see any servants about?”

  I didn’t. “I expect they’re serving ‘the new lot’,” I said.

  “Yes,” Derrick mused. “That bloke said there was food.”

  “Derrick,” I said patiently, “vampires don’t eat roast beef and Yorkshire pudding.”

  I convinced him it was best that we leave before we found ourselves on the menu.

  That was two nights ago, Captain Burton. I have no idea when the next ceremony will be, nor do I know what Derrick intends to do. But I cannot let him fall victim to this obsession of his to remain as he is forever. I know I am but one man against a potentially vast and definitely powerful force of enemies. I would feel more confident of my task with your leadership and guidance. Please say you will come to London and help me. More may be at stake than one young man’s life.

  Sincerely,

  O. W.

  Letter from Ellen Terry to Lillie Langtry, 25th of June 1879

  My dearest Lillie,

  I am not sure if this letter will find you on your travels, but I must tell someone of the events that are transpiring. As if life in the theatre is not strange enough, I find myself thrust into a Gothic tale so morbid and fascinating I should think it the work of an overwrought playwright if I did not know better.

  As I have told you before, I for some time have had my suspicions about Henry. He has all manner of odd habits and has given me pause as to his moral character. You will remember that I wrote you in the spring that I had gone to Bram Stoker with my concerns. He investigated the matter and assured me that my suspicions were unfounded.

  It seems circumstance has brought on a change of heart.

  He approached me today as I was preparing to leave the theatre and offered to escort me home. He knows my penchant for walking the entire way and I thought he had a misguided concern for my safety. Still, I enjoy his company and so accepted. We made small talk for the first part of the walk, though it became obvious to me that he had something more important on his mind.

  As we passed by Regent’s Park, he ushered me to a secluded bench, and for a moment I thought he may have had a romantic intention. I was wrong.

  With obvious reluctance, he brought up my earlier suspicions of Irving. “Has anything happened since to cause those suspicions to recur?” he asked.

  “Nothing at all,” I said, somewhat taken aback. “Henry has been perfectly normal. Well, for Henry.”

  He surprised me even further then, asking, “Has he been to your home?”

  “Yes, once,” I said. “He stopped in to discuss…something…. The rehearsal schedule, I believe. Or perhaps it was costuming.”

  “Odd. Would not either of those topics been more easily discussed at the theatre?”

  “Well, yes, I suppose so. Perhaps it was during a break when I had not been to the theatre for a few days. I’m afraid I don’t recall. Mr. Stoker – Bram – what is prompting this enquiry?”

  He ignored my question in favour of one of his own. “Did Henry meet Lucy when he came to your house?”

  “Yes, he did.”

  This seemed to confirm some grim suspicion in his mind. “And did they…become friendly?”

  I laughed out loud at this. “Are you asking if they have embarked on an affair, Bram? I can assure you their interaction was cordial and nothing more.”

  “And has she mentioned him since?”

  “His name comes up in conversation, generally at my instigation when I am discussing my day at work. Bram, I really must insist that you tell me what this is about.”

  “I fear I must,” he said, “though you are not likely to believe me. Miss Terry, I suspect that Henry Irving is a vampire.”

  I might have laughed at first had he not seemed so grim.

  He continued, “I know this seems mad, and a few years ago I would never have entertained the idea, but I have encountered such a creature before.”

  When I asked for more details of this previous encounter, he demurred, saying, “I know you to be friends with Oscar Wilde – ask him if you don’t believe me. He was there and remembers it all too clearly, I am sure. Right now, we need to focus on Lucy.”

  “Lucy!” I exclaimed, then the penny dropped. “You don’t think….”

  He nodded. “I fear that Henry is the cause of Lucy’s ill health, that he is visiting her in the night and draining her of blood!”

  I am not given to fainting, Lillie, you know this, but at that moment I came very close to doing just that. The thought of poor Lucy being victimised in this fashion – and that I might work side by side with her tormenter – was nearly too much to bear!

  “I would not burden you with this knowledge, Miss Terry, were I not concerned for your safety and that of our mutual friend.”

  “Of course. But we must do something about this, Bram! Go to the authorities and tell them what we suspect.”

  He smiled. “And what do you think they would say?”

  “Nothing,” I admitted. “At least not until they finished laughing.”

  “Precisely. No, this is something I must deal with on my own.” Grim-faced once more he was.

  “I will help,” I said. “Lucy is my friend and I will do what I can to stop what is being done to her. Shall we go tonight?”

  He looked at me wonderingly. “My dear Miss Terry, you will be nowhere near when the time comes to dispatch Henry Irving. Besides, help is coming and we – I – shall await it.” He told me that his friend Richard Burton has sent a noted physician, Dr. Martin Hesselius, who would arrive today. He specialises in exotic diseases and maladies and has hunted vampires with Burton.
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  Bram accompanied me the rest of the way home, swearing me to secrecy and making me promise to act naturally around Henry while we await Dr. Hesselius. “But be careful, Ellen,” he admonished. “I shall take care to always be close at hand when you and Henry are in the theatre together, but if you feel you are in danger, remove yourself from the situation immediately.” I assured him I would, taking his hand and squeezing it reassuringly. Which of us I was trying to reassure I don’t know, but Bram blushed a bit, which made me smile.

  Whatever happens, it must happen soon. Lucy’s doctor has given her a blood transfusion. She has become so anaemic he fears she will not last much longer without intervention. The procedure is experimental and has had mixed results. Her fiancé, Robert Roosevelt, has volunteered to give his blood, and she seems to be responding to the procedure, even waking for a moment and talking to us.

  Her condition has the doctors baffled, but now I suspect the real cause. I dare not share what I know for it may mean being carted off to the mad ward at Bedlam.

  I shall write you again tomorrow. Until then,

  Forever your friend,

  Ellen

  Letter from Ellen Terry to Lillie Langtry, 26th of June 1879

  My dearest Lillie,

  It has been a day since my last letter and things have taken an even more tragic turn. I am so saddened it is difficult to put words to paper but I feel compelled to make a record of the events, for Lucy’s sake.

  Earlier today, Bram and I met with our newly arrived vampire expert, Dr. Hesselius, in Lucy’s drawing room.

  Dr. Hesselius is a grandfatherly man, but very energetic in his manner. He strikes one at first glance as altogether ordinary – neither tall nor short, fat nor thin, neatly (though not particularly fashionably) dressed. Still, he has an air of quiet authority about him, and the poise of his head is indicative of thought and power. Although he is of German descent, he was raised in Holland and has a thick Dutch accent. He has a well-kept grey moustache and beard and wears small round spectacles with lightly rose-tinted glass.

  After brief introductions, we withdrew to Lucy’s room to allow him to assess the situation.

  Her physician was giving her another transfusion of Robert’s blood. Imagine one’s blood actually flowing into another’s veins! Have two lovers ever been closer than this? I think not.

  “That’s all I can do for her, I’m afraid,” the doctor said, after removing the needle and bandaging her arm. “Now rest will be the best medicine for her.”

  He took the needle out of Robert’s arm; he was lying on a cot next to the bed. “Do not get up for a few moments. The loss of blood makes even the strongest of men dizzy.”

  We waited until Lucy’s doctor left to talk freely.

  Dr. Hesselius examined the wounds on Lucy’s neck. “Hmmm. Very interesting, ya?”

  “Are my worst fears true, was she bitten by…?” Bram asked, but stopped himself from finishing the sentence. I suspect it was because Robert was not yet aware of the horrible truth.

  Dr. Hesselius had no such compunction. “Ya, it is indeed a vampire, and by the looks of it he has fed on her three, possibly four times. It is unusual that he did not drain her in one feeding. Very unusual indeed. I have only seen one other case like this.”

  “You mean to tell me she has been bitten by a bat?” Robert asked, astonished.

  “No,” Hesselius replied. “By the creature of the night. The Un-Dead. The vampire.”

  Robert was incredulous, as I had first been, and gaped at Bram and me. “A vampire? Bram, Ellen, who is this man and why is he here?”

  Bram made a brief introduction, then said, “Robert, I know this is hard to believe. But I have experience in such matters that aroused my suspicions – though not soon enough, I’m afraid.”

  “So, you actually believe this,” Robert said. “That vampires are real?”

  Hesselius nodded grimly. “Terribly real.”

  “And one of them is feeding off Lucy?” Robert sat up shakily. “I am a man of science, I cannot believe this.”

  “Do you not think that there are things which you cannot understand, and yet which are?” asked Hesselius. “Ah, it is the fault of our science that it wants to explain all, and if it explains not, then it says there is nothing to explain.”

  “It is true, Robert,” Bram said. “And I think I have identified the vampire. It is none other than Henry Irving.”

  The shocking news and the loss of blood combined to make Robert look very pale indeed as he tried to make sense of all this. “But how is this possible? Why would she let him? How did he enter the house unseen?”

  “The vampire has been known to turn into smoke and enter through a gap under a door,” Hesselius said. “It can hypnotise its prey, making them willing victims, even through the glass of a window. After the first feeding, the victim is under its spell completely.”

  “I will kill him!” Robert said. He tried to stand too quickly and swooned a moment before finally rising shakily to his feet.

  “My dear fellow, I understand your sense of urgency, but we must take care and do things properly,” Hesselius said, his voice gentle as he helped Robert steady himself. “The monster may seem like a man, but he could easily overpower and kill all of us if cornered.”

  Bram added, “I have faced two of these things down myself, and nearly lost my life each time.”

  Dr. Hesselius took off his spectacles and cleaned them. “They have the power to cloud men’s minds, possess the strength of ten men and cannot be killed by ordinary means. We must find the creature, stake it in the heart and cut off its head. Furthermore, we must do it in the daytime when it is at its weakest.”

  It was hard to take in all that I was hearing. Were we really going to kill Henry?

  “It will sleep in the day. In a dark place,” Hesselius said.

  “I think I might know where he is right at this moment,” Bram said.

  “No time like the present, ya?” Hesselius said, retrieving his doctor’s bag from the drawing room. From it, he pulled silver crosses, wooden stakes and a phial of liquid. “Holy water,” he explained. “It burns them like acid. I am told lilacs and other purple flowers can render them immobile, but I have not yet tested this myself.” He pulled a bouquet from the bag as if he were performing a magic act. “If it tries to enter your mind, recite the Lord’s Prayer and force him out! Lead the way, Mr. Stoker.”

  As we all started to leave, Bram stopped me. “Ellen, this is men’s work. Besides, I need you to watch over Lucy.”

  I was about to argue my point when suddenly Lucy sat up and let out a blood-curdling scream!

  Robert rushed to her side to comfort her, but she struck him with the back of her hand with such force that it knocked him to the ground.

  Hesselius started chanting something in Latin and waving the flowers over her.

  She hissed and growled like a wild animal, her eyes darting about, taking us all in. She leapt out of bed and Bram and Robert tried to restrain her but she shook them off, throwing them across the room.

  Dr. Hesselius confronted her, waving the flowers with one hand and sprinkling holy water with the other. She slapped him across the face and sent his glasses flying.

  She tore at her nightclothes, ripping them to shreds. She then clawed at her naked flesh, scratching deep wounds that did not bleed. It was as if she wanted to step out of her skin as she had her clothes.

  Robert started towards her again, then stopped, horrified, as she began to change.

  Her open mouth looked more like the giant maw of a beast. I watched her teeth growing before my eyes, dripping with saliva. For a fleeting second, our eyes locked and there was a moment of recognition. The creature’s gaze became Lucy’s again as if she were trapped inside it looking out. The fangs retracted. She went from looking menacing to looking frightened.

 
“Ellen?” she gasped.

  I started to move towards her, but at that moment Hesselius stumbled to his feet and ripped back the curtains. Lucy screamed and hid her face from the light. She withdrew to a shadowed corner, covering her face and whimpering. She began to convulse, flopping around like a fish thrown onto land.

  “Lucy!” Robert rushed towards her.

  “No!” Dr. Hesselius commanded. “Do not touch her!”

  I don’t think Robert would have obeyed, but there was no chance to find out. As quickly as it had begun, her fit was over. She collapsed to the floor. Her face was peaceful and human, but sadly, Lucy Mayhew was now dead.

  My heart breaks. For poor, tragic Lucy. For Robert, who loved her. For her friend Florence; Bram is telling her now. Florence hasn’t been herself lately either, as she fights a bout of melancholy. I am afraid the news will drive her into deeper despair.

  I know not what will happen next, nor what part I may play in it. But I know this: he who corrupted and snuffed out this vibrant young life must answer for his crime.

  Ellen

  Letter from Robert Roosevelt to Theodore Roosevelt, 26th of June 1879

  Dear Theodore,

  I know you won’t read this letter until you return from your trip out West, but I feel I must record these events and trust only you to keep these words safe.

  I am sorry, Teddy, that I ever doubted your account of battling a vampire in Mexico. Can you ever forgive my mocking tone? As a naturalist, I should have been more open to the possibilities of unknown creatures. I now know these vile monsters are horribly real. One such abomination has corrupted and murdered a vibrant young woman and stolen away my last chance at true happiness. If I had accepted the truth sooner, would I have been able to prevent this tragedy?

  Here in civilized London with its vast populace, it is apparently quite easy for a vampire to go about undetected. Paradoxically, at least one is able to live a very public life in high society while maintaining his dark secret. The famous actor Henry Irving is such a creature. I know this is hard to believe, but it is true. And this monster has killed my Lucy!