by Lucas Thorn
The broken knife slit throat.
Blood washed his arms. Cleansing the rage.
He heard a shriek. Then a long string of terrified wails.
The shopkeeper’s daughter. Standing in the doorway. Clean ribbons in her hair.
Beautiful clothes.
The constable’s eyes slitted. He could never have bought clothes like that for his own daughter. Especially not now she was dead. Died without medicine. Medicine would have saved her, the doctors said. But who in London could afford medicine?
Only the toffs.
She’d died in his arms.
A porcelain thing with barely a peep to her last day.
He’d prayed. Prayed to God. Swore oaths of redemption and faithful observance.
All for nothing.
“Guilty,” he mouthed. “Guilty by association.”
And, before she could run, he pounced.
An animal tearing and thrusting. Ripping and shredding as the blade bit and bit.
Smell of fresh soap and cold iron. Wet copper after summer rain.
The little girl with blood on her face squeezed in close. She’d found a knife of her own. Stuck it deep in the squealing victim’s side. Pulled the blade slowly and stared mesmerised by the blood drooling off its edge.
Giggled; “Feed the Queen.”
The words were a drone. Humming in everyone’s mouth.
“Feed the Queen.”
And Lucy woke with the chant in her ears. Her heart was racing, though her whole body felt heavy and limp. Exhaustion tumbled down into her belly.
“Oh,” she gasped. Snatched hold of the edge of her coffin and began to pull herself out. Drag herself loose.
Fell to the ground and rolled onto her back. Utterly spent.
Dazed. Eyes out of focus.
Mouth slack.
She could feel the connection still throbbing between her and the small cluster of people rampaging down a street not far away. In her ears could hear their shouts ringing. Feel their pulses pounding in brutal rhythm.
A heavy steel rhythm like a train. Nothing could stop them now.
Their cries were beautiful. Howling pleas for death and destruction.
Madness at its most intense.
And it was just the beginning.
“So many lights,” she whispered. “I can feel them all.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“Polly!” The man she knew as George rose from his chair. Waved to her as she stepped into the pub. Her head seemed to be washed by a wave of heat and she shook her head to clear it. “Over here, love. Over here. Come on, take a seat. Scoot in here beside Larkin.”
“Larkin?” Her eyes flicked nervously to the man as she took the offered chair. “Is he a friend of yours, George?”
“Yes. A very good friend. We’ve known each other since we were little.”
“Evening, Miss,” Larkin said.
A neat young man, she thought. Little tight around the eyes, though, and he couldn’t seem to meet her gaze. It made her feel stronger. Emboldened by his shyness, she let herself smile.
She wanted to prod him in the chest to watch him flinch.
For a moment, it sounded like someone else spoke through her mouth when she spoke; “Pleased to meet you, Mister Larkin.”
“Just call him Larkin,” George said. “We’re all friends, aren’t we?”
“Have you been waiting long? I’m sorry I was late. Miss Westenra asked me to help her with her dress. I couldn’t say no, could I?”
“Well, you might have,” George said with a grin. “We’ve been waiting for ages. Haven’t we, Larkin? I’d begun to think you’d forgotten all about me.”
“Couldn’t shut him up, Polly,” Larkin said. “All he’d talk about was you. Hours he’s been on about you. How pretty you looked. I can see he wasn’t making it up.”
She felt the blush creep across her cheeks. “Oh, I’m not falling for those words tonight.”
“Do you want a drink?” George lifted his empty glass and waved at the barmaid. “I’m having another. Larkin?”
“Thanks, George.”
“Polly?”
“Yes. Maybe a small sherry.”
Drinks delivered, they sat mostly in silence. Not too awkward, but Polly began to wonder if there was something she was missing. The two men seemed to catch each other’s gaze quite often, so she wasn’t sure if she should leave.
Had they planned to get drunk together?
Was she suddenly an inconvenience?
Her spine began to tingle. Like someone was running their fingers up the bone.
Discomfort made her shift on her chair.
She looked down at her hands. They didn’t quite seem right.
She’d always thought they were smaller.
“Polly,” George said suddenly, sweeping her hands into his. As he did, the discomfort vanished in a flash and she smiled. “I want to ask you something. And I don’t want to frighten you, but it’s very important. Would you mind?”
“Mind?” She looked to Larkin and found his expression to be a little too serious for her liking. The familiar flutter in her belly returned. “I suppose not. What is it?”
“Well.” He looked to Larkin, then back to her. “You see, it’s about your employer. Miss Lucy.”
“Oh.” She leaned back, pushing the small glass away. “I see. I presumed too much, didn’t I? I thought your attentions were for me. But you’re like all men who see her. You want to meet her. So you’re using me to get close to her. What is it you want, George? You want me to introduce you? That’s a foolish thing to expect, isn’t it? I’m just a cleaner. Do you really think she wants to know anyone I’d be introducing her to, even someone who pretended to be a gentleman?”
“No, you don’t understand.”
“Of course not. I’m just a simple woman.” Sarcasm bled into her voice. The heat in her belly began to bubble and she found herself feeling the wave curling up behind her. Ready to drown her in a tumbling void. Voices twittered inside the wave. Whispering for her to move aside or be drowned. She looked around and caught the eyes of a shabby-dressed man at the counter. He looked away quickly, but she could see him trying to catch another glimpse from the corner of his eye. Was everyone in the room looking at her? Did they pity her? The thought made her cheeks hot. “A simple woman who believed you were interested in her. I called you a fool, George. But I suppose I was more the fool. I listened to you. I should know better, shouldn’t I? Not many men speak to me with gentle tongue. I suppose I was flattered. You knew the right words and the right way to speak them.”
“Polly, please.” He panicked as tears began spilling from her eyes. Couldn’t know his voice was getting more distant with every leaking drop. She shot to her feet, but he grabbed her arm. Lights flickered in front of her eyes and she could hear the crackle of electricity in the back of her brain. She opened her mouth, but he cut her off; “Please listen to me. I don’t mean it that way. Do I, Larkin? See? Larkin will vouch for me. Now, you’re a beautiful woman, Polly. And I wasn’t lying to you. Everything I said, I meant. But after seeing you this morning, I’ve been told some things I found very hard to believe. And hearing them has made me worry. For you, Polly. I worried for you. I fear for your safety and all I want to do is keep you safe. Believe me. That’s my only interest in her. If you give me a moment, I will explain. I promise.”
The wave dissipated.
Blown to breathless calm by his words.
She fell back onto her chair and wiped her eyes with her palms.
Larkin delved into a pocket and pulled out a clean handkerchief, which she took gratefully. “I’m sorry, Mister Larkin. I’m sorry for making such a scene. But I don’t know what to think.”
“It’s alright, Miss. We talked about it before you came in. We didn’t know how to approach the subject. Poor George here has been put in a difficult position, but he cares for you. Really, he does.”
“I do,” George said. Leaned in close. “Loo
k, Polly. Surely you’ve noticed the household is very odd, haven’t you? You’ve seen things you find hard to explain? Perhaps heard things, too? If not, maybe it’s just a feeling you get in your stomach when it gets dark?”
“I’m not sure. That sounds a bit fanciful to me.”
“Alright. Well, take the two men who guard her.”
“Kipper and Blasko?”
“Yes. Don’t you think there’s something different about them?”
“Kipper has been very kind to me, George. And Blasko hardly talks at all. He’s a quiet man. Very gentle. He always opens the door and smiles sometimes. They’ve never said or done anything to harm me. I really don’t know what you mean.”
“What about Lucy? Miss Westenra?”
“What about her?” Polly suddenly felt a burst of anger. “Are you spying on her? George, are you one of the men who hurt her? Did you hurt her, George?”
“No!” He hissed the word, looking around to be sure no one was listening. “No, Polly. I’d never hurt a lady. Never. I swear it on my life.”
“Then, you know nothing about what happened to her last month?”
“No.”
“Promise me, George. Promise you’re not lying to me right now.”
“I’m going to trust you, Polly. Trust you with my life. Can I do that?”
“You’re scaring me.”
“I don’t mean to. But I’m afraid, too. Terribly afraid. You’re in more danger than you know right now, and I’m not sure that I can explain it to you properly. I can only tell you what I can and hope you trust me when I say the rest would be too hard for you to believe right now. All the same, I need you to know I have only your safety at heart.” He squeezed her hands inside his. Eyes wide and unblinking. Staring deep into her soul in a way she’d always wanted a man to. But the fear still left her shaking and the tidal push against her back made her sway in her chair.
Was he telling the truth?
“I believe you,” she said. Slowly. Took her hands from him and lay them in her lap. Shoulders sinking. Knowing she didn’t want to hear what he was about to say. “Tell me.”
He reached for his cup and took a quick sip.
Swallowed.
“Alright, then. Let me start at the beginning. You see, I knew Lucy. From before Whitby. I was engaged to be married to her best friend.”
“Engaged?” The heat nearly dropped her to the floor. A wave of nausea. Taste of metal in her mouth. “You’re engaged?”
“I was.” He didn’t blink. Still didn’t blink. “But something happened. Mina, the poor girl I was engaged to, changed. She suddenly fell in love with another man. They ran away together.”
“Oh.” Her pulse still didn’t slow. “And this was how long ago?”
“We’d been engaged for a few months. But everything changed about a month ago. A little more, perhaps. I was in Europe just before it started. There, I met the man she would run away with. Stayed in his home. Well, perhaps home doesn’t do it justice. He owned a castle, Polly. A real one, in the Transylvanian alps. He’s very rich. And used to getting what he wants. He saw an image I kept of her in a locket. A gift she gave me before I left. He grew mad with jealousy. He lured me into a room and locked me away. Then he travelled to Whitby where he poisoned her mind. They left together just before I arrived back in London.”
“Do you still have it?”
“What?”
“The locket.”
“Oh.” He shook his head. “No. He took it from me.”
“What has this got to do with Miss Westenra?”
“Well, while he was poisoning my Mina, he corrupted Lucy, too.”
Polly let out a nervous laugh. “He was a busy man.”
“Yes, I suppose he was. And an evil one, Polly.”
“It sounds like he loved your Mina. And she, him. Is it evil to love, George?”
“No. Not at all. And if he truly loved her, and she felt the same, then I would never wish to interfere. But this man cannot love, Polly. He has no ability to love. He seeks only to possess. To conquer and consume. Quite literally.”
Polly looked to Larkin and couldn’t help but share a confused smile with both of them.
She didn’t understand what he was talking about.
A man had stolen George’s fiancée. It sounded like the girl had wanted to be stolen. Where was the problem with that?
“George,” she said. Hands fidgeting in her lap. “It’s been my experience that all men want to possess women. Why do you think I don’t talk to anyone in here? Look around, George. Every man wants to feel they could control me. When they talk to me, they’re never really interested in me as a person. And they’ll say anything to get what they want. And when they have it? When they’ve conquered me? They’ll lock me in their home and look for some new battleground. That’s how it is, isn’t it?”
“Not all men are like that,” he said.
“Of course not. Look at you. You were engaged until only very recently. And you don’t seem to care what she was feeling. Everything you just told me is about this man who she ran away with. You hate him. And that’s understandable. But how are you different? It doesn’t sound like you knew her at all. You hardly even mentioned her. In fact, it sounds more like you’re upset that she chose to leave you.”
“He lied to her,” George growled. “He promised her beautiful things and instead delivered her soul to the very gates of Hell!”
“And were you any different to me? You told me beautiful things. You made me think you could love me. But you lied. Lied so you could get what you wanted. Did you get it yet, George? And is that even your name? Is it, Larkin?” She turned to the other man, who looked away. “Yes. I thought it wasn’t. You don’t really look like a George. I didn’t mind. I thought you were just some Lord’s son being careful. I thought you were romantic, and you’d ask me to leave with you. For a brief time, I thought we’d make each other happy. How silly of me. How perfectly silly.”
“Polly…”
“No, George. I think for some reason of your own, you want me to betray Miss Westenra. You want me to spy on her? Let you in her house? Or something else just as awful. But I won’t do it. If you’re looking for this man and your fiancée, I can say they’re not in the house. So, you can look elsewhere.”
“I’m not looking for her,” he said. Words a rush. “Please, Polly. You have to listen. There’s more!”
“Not for me.” She pulled free and pushed past him. “You lied to me, George. Or whatever your name is. I really don’t want to know. Not your name. Not whatever it is you’re up to. Keep your secrets. Because they’re all you’re ever going to have.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“Then we have no choice,” Van Helsing said. “And we must move quickly. If she tells Lucy about you, the vampire will know we’re close. We must move with speed.”
“I agree,” Harker said. Twirling the glass between his palms. He shook his head. “Poor girl.”
“Don’t pity her, Jonathan. She chose her path. Most likely she was already one of Lucy’s victims.”
“I didn’t see any bite marks.”
“Just because they’re not on her throat, doesn’t mean there aren’t any.”
Harker reddened. “I know that, Abraham. But all the same, she didn’t look like a victim. And she wasn’t anything at all like the other girls I’ve known. She was sensitive and kind. Do you know, I think I broke her heart? I didn’t mean to do that.”
“Forget her,” the old man snapped. Not too harshly. “We’ve other things to deal with. Mayberry has the horses ready. Have you got what you need?”
“Yes. Are we going to leave Sloper here?”
“He’s secure. I’ve given him a sedative for now. And Larkin can keep a watch over him.”
“Poor Sloper, too.”
“Don’t be maudlin, Jonathan.” Van Helsing sighed, closing his bag. “Save your pity for those who deserve it. We’re dealing with monsters of great power and the ab
ility to corrupt all who encounter them. You know very well that corruption cannot always be washed away. It permeates into the heart of the soul.”
He looked down at the beads around his wrist. “Does that include Mina?”
“I told you I would do everything I can,” Van Helsing said. “And I will keep my promise. You know that.”
“Of course.” He smiled up at the old man.
“Then, in the meantime, we do what we can. What we must.”
“Yes.” Got to his feet and shrugged into his coat. “Don’t worry about me, Abraham. I’ll do what needs to be done. You can count on me, I swear.”
“I know I can.” The old man stared at him thoughtfully. “I’m asking a lot of you. I know it. And I know these past months have taken a terrible toll on you. But if you can trust me a little more, we may yet save her soul. And the world, if we’re lucky.”
Harker nodded and followed the old man to the hall. Doctor Seward was waiting with both hands clinging to his small bag. “Gentlemen.”
“John.” Harker offered a friendly hand. “Are you feeling well?”
“Not at all.” He took the offered hand and shook it. “I’m terrified.”
“Stand by me, then. I’ll protect you.”
“I’d feel better if Sloper was… Well… You know.” He looked to the door leading down. “That poor man.”
“Sentimental foolishness,” Van Helsing said. Stalked to the front door and flung it open. Headed to the small carriage and quickly pushed inside. “Hurry along.”
Harker came last, squeezing in beside Doctor Seward. Tried not to nudge the larger man with his elbows as the horses lurched off with a crack of Mayberry’s whip.
They rode through London in silence with curtains drawn.
Each lost in their own thoughts.
When they made the outskirts, Mayberry stopped to let them stretch their legs.
On the edge of the road, one side a flat green field with white sheep high on a hill. The other a dense forest. Mayberry loped off for a piss, leaving the three to stand near the carriage.
