by Lucas Thorn
Someone else spoke, and Jonathan turned his head to the new noise. It aggravated him. The sound was like glass cutting into his skin.
Exquisite and sharp.
He pulled at his shirt. The cloth stifled him. Was much too tight. It didn’t fit. He tugged at the collar. Tore buttons loose and watched them roll away.
The old man’s hand tried to touch him again. He knocked it away once more. Threw the old man a snarl. Just to let him know how he felt. The old eyes were narrow, but afraid.
What was he afraid of?
The look drew a greasy wave of contempt up from Jonathan’s belly.
Weak.
Weak old man with his hidden terror.
The other voice spoke again. This time, he snapped. Pounced from the doorway, arms thrusting ahead. Lashing blindly at the source of the annoying sound.
Young man. Reddish hair. Wide mouth.
Splotchy skin.
Jonathan’s hands went around the puny neck. Surprisingly easy. For a moment they were frozen together.
Then Jonathan squeezed.
And squeezed.
Felt bone pop.
The young man slumped, but he kept squeezing. Shaking the body. Shaking it as though trying to pull the lifeless head from its scrawny neck. Had just about managed to tear it loose when the old man’s voice lashed at him. “Jonathan!”
He flinched.
Then felt angry. Why should he flinch from this old man? What was he? Just a fragile little skeleton. No muscle at all.
Jonathan, if that really was his name, was big.
Very big.
He looked down at his hands. Thick fingers made massive fists. Muscle throbbed in tight cords up his forearms. So much muscle. Even as he watched, it seemed to be expanding under his skin. Writhing as it grew.
He was strong. Powerful.
A wet laugh dribbled through his drooling mouth and he looked around for someone else. Anyone else.
To kill.
“Jonathan, you mustn’t let the beast control you. Control the beast, Jonathan. Control it!”
“Kill,” Jonathan huffed.
“No. Not kill. You must remember who you are! Remember quickly. Before-”
Delighted laughter cut the old man’s voice. “Oh, Van Helsing. What delightful Hell have you delivered him to? Look at him! His mind is falling apart. I can see it. Can you? It’s all over the floor in marvellous glittering shells. You’ve absolutely broken him. Look, Jonathan. Look! You’re everywhere!”
She hovered in the air above the stairs. White dress swaying gently.
Amused.
Beautiful. The word pushed into his brain and lodged deep like a splinter of ice.
His heart began to squirm. Rising heat made his ears hot.
Coming down the stairs were children. Twenty? Thirty? So many. Eyes dull.
Tiny things.
Easy to break.
To slam against a wall until they were paste…
“Stay back!” Van Helsing pulled a heavy crucifix from his bag and held it aloft.
“How adorable,” she said. Turned her gaze to Jonathan and waved at him. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it, Jonathan? How’s Mina? You’ve spoken to her, haven’t you? Of course you have.”
He felt a trickle down his spine. Cold?
Lights flickered in front of him. Bright. They hurt his eyes and he reached to claw at his sockets before spearing her with a glare.
“Slut,” he growled. “Whore.”
“Now, Mister Harker,” she said. “What a terrible thing to say. I thought we were friends. Mina wouldn’t like to hear you talking like that, would she? She might call off the wedding.”
“Whore!”
Jonathan heaved, his chest burning with need. Fists bunched and knuckles aching to pound flesh and bone.
“What have you done to Doctor Seward?” Van Helsing demanded, the words making Jonathan’s head spin.
Who was Doctor Seward?
“He’s beyond your help now,” she said. “But do feel free to search for his body. All you need to do, of course, is kill all these lovely little children first. I’m sure it will be a simple thing to explain to the police. Do you think Lord Salisbury will help cover it up for you? Or will he throw you to the hounds?”
“Slut,” Jonathan spat. Foam drooled off his chin.
His eyes were burning.
Blazing with fire. He blinked. Squinted. Wiped sweat from his brow.
Van Helsing grabbed his arm. “Jonathan, we must leave.”
Panic made him want to tear the old man’s arms off. Beat the ground with his bloody limbs. “Kill. Kill slut.”
“No. Come on.” Tugged urgently. “I fear I miscalculated your ability to control yourself. You are useless in this condition. We’ve lost the element of surprise and she’s clearly trying to delay us. No doubt the police are on their way. Now, pull yourself together. I told you, didn’t I? Lock up your passions! Concentrate, man.”
“Don’t listen to him, Jonathan,” Lucy crooned. Her fingers teased the hem of her dress. Lifting a little to show her legs to the thigh. Pale. White. Moonlight from the window at her back kissing the slender curve. “What does he know about passion? His reptile heart hasn’t had an emotion for such a long time. But, you? You’re a man with feelings. Desires. Needs. Come to me, Jonathan. You want to, don’t you? You want me so bad you can taste it.”
“Blood.”
“Yes. Taste my blood, Jonathan. Come and get my blood. Spill it all over the floor. Tear me to pieces right here. There’s a good boy.”
The children smiled at him. Their grins wide and feral as the giant misshapen man took a heavy step closer. Head swaying on his neck. Panting with lust.
“Enough!” Van Helsing roared. With surprising strength, gripped Jonathan’s wrist and dragged him toward the door. Shoved a shocked Jonathan out into the cold night air. Looked back, his face twisted with hate. “I swear by God Almighty, this is not the last time we see each other, Miss Westenra. I shall have you on my table again. And next time, I’ll leave you in pieces so small you won’t be able to heal. But neither will you die.”
Lucy’s smile didn’t change. “I look forward to seeing you again too, Professor. Do be careful out there, won’t you? The streets can be so very dangerous. Especially at night.”
“Of that, I have no doubt.”
“You can’t control him, you know. Not anymore.”
“Neither can you. The serum was fortified with holy water and the concentrated essence of garlic. He is beyond your reach.”
“Do you really believe that?” Her laughter made the children around her smile. “Oh, don’t worry, Van Helsing. I don’t want him. You can have him. Keep him close. Keep him safe until she comes. She’s the one who wants him. My Queen.”
“You won’t succeed. You know this. In what’s left of your shrivelled heart, you must know it. Whatever Satan has promised you, they are lies. The power you possess is temporary. Your defeat is inevitable.”
“I know more than you think, Van Helsing. More than your ugly little mind could ever begin to dream. It is not the Devil I am sworn serve.”
Jonathan was sprawled on the ground. Glaring up at the old man who barred his way. He could knock him aside. Smash through the old man’s fragile skeleton.
Kick through the doorway.
Get to the woman.
Kill the little ones, but get to her. Hold her. Pull her close.
Fuck.
Kill.
A glorious cascade of lust and insatiable violence burst inside his mind like a fiery rain of shooting stars.
Each blinding with a new and deviant desire.
Van Helsing glanced down at him. Ignored Jonathan’s growl. Sighed. “We must get away, Jonathan. Must get out of London. To the ship Salisbury has set aside. England is lost. There’s much to prepare if we wish to prevent the darkness from spreading. Come.”
“Whore.”
“Yes. Yes, she is.” He pushed the hunched
man forward. Jonathan felt his muscle spring against the old man’s fingers.
He flexed, feeling coat rip as he bulged.
“Strong.”
“Yes. Yes, you are.” Then; “Look out!”
Jonathan moved with blinding speed, bounding down the path. Ignored the crack of bullets whizzing past his ears. Took a young policeman by the throat and gave a savage wrench which made the snap of the man’s neck echo up the street.
An echo lost in the sudden slap of boots as policeman came rushing through the gates, lifting rifles and shouting.
“Get down! Down on your knees!”
Jonathan huffed at air and prepared to pounce.
“No,” Van Helsing snapped. Looked to the orphanage, where Lucy was hidden within the shadows. Her unseen smile mocking him. “Jonathan, you must control yourself. Stop fighting and listen to me. We must get away. Get away, do you hear me? If we stay, we’ll die. And what about Mina? You want to see her again, don’t you? Then it’s time to run!”
“Fight,” Jonathan roared, spitting. Mina? The name touched something inside him. Something which shrank from the rage flowing through his body. “Fight all you fuckers! All of you. Rip your fucking guts right out. Chew them. Gnaw on them. I’ll rip you all to pieces.”
“The Ripper,” someone breathed. “It’s the Ripper for sure. You hear that? It’s him! It’s him! Get the Inspector!”
“Fuck the Inspector,” another hissed. “Shoot, you bastards! Shoot!”
Van Helsing threw himself down as a wave of bullets exploded through air to punch hard into Jonathan’s chest.
The beast which had been Jonathan Harker felt each one.
Felt them like the stings of wasps.
He screamed, flailing madly and clutching at his forehead where a bullet flattened itself on impact against his skull. Skin healing under his touch as he plucked the bullet free and tossed it to the ground.
Stamped on it.
Heaving, looked up at the suddenly horrified police.
“Kill,” he huffed like a boar. “Rip and tear.”
“No, Jonathan!” Van Helsing shrieked. “Run, man, run!”
And the old man sprinted away. A bullet plucking at his jacket. Another at his pants. A flash of red puffed loose and Jonathan’s eyes were caught on the red mist.
“Abraham.” The name shot from his mouth on a cold spray of spit.
He ran.
Legs powering him with a speed which might have left him dizzy. Instead made it seem as though the world had shrunk. As if each lunging step carried him for miles. He thrust an arm out as he loped past the crumpled vampire hunter, scooping him up like a child.
Cradling him close. A small bundle in the arms of a hulking monster.
Howled; “Abraham!”
And kept running.
Madly down the road, sprinting toward a small house. In one leap, he went onto the roof and with one step had bounded to the other side. Dropped down into an adjacent alley. Still howling like a grieving dog.
And not sure why.
The police followed as far as the house, then divided to swarm surrounding streets. Searching. Occasionally shooting at shadows.
Whistles pierced the night from all directions.
And into the chaos strode Inspector Abberline, disgust on his face not sparing a single shame-faced soul. He looked to one man and tapped his cane angrily. “Fuck the Inspector? Really?”
The constable’s face flushed deep red. “Sorry, sir. I don’t know what came over me. I just don’t. I was standing there, and everything just went bright. Like there was a light inside my head, and-”
“I don’t really want to hear it.” Abberline stalked away, shaking with anger. “We had them. Had them right in the palm of our hand. And instead of surrounding them, you all shoot at them like the bunch of incompetent idiots you are.”
He was still muttering as he made the front door of the orphanage. Swept the hat from his head and entered.
Blood.
Everywhere.
That was the first thing he saw.
The next was an open door with a trail of red sliding out into the hall.
His heart frozen in time, he expected to find Lucy on her back. Her belly ripped. Entrails strewn across the ground. Her beautiful face unblinking and dead.
Unsure if he could endure the sight, he moved boldly toward the doorway and found her kneeling with another woman’s body in her hands. Whispering softly into dead ears. Words he couldn’t make out.
He held his hat in front of his belly and sighed. Emotions stirred. Saddened at the sight of yet another torn body. Relieved to see it wasn’t hers.
Spoke as gently as he could. “Miss Westenra? Lucy?”
The woman looked up.
Dazed.
Eyes dry but conveying a wealth of sorrow. His heart nearly burst at sight of her pale face. The terror she must be feeling. He couldn’t fathom it. Her voice was a mew of agony, breaking his heart with each syllable. “They killed her, Inspector. Adele. Look what they’ve done to her.”
“I’m sorry. As soon as we knew they weren’t at the townhouse, we came as fast as we could.” It sounded lame in his ears.
“They weren’t to know we were here. You promised they wouldn’t know.” Her voice was soft, but there was iron in it. “How did they know, Inspector? Who told them?”
“I don’t know. But I’ll find out. I promise you that.”
“Poor Adele,” Lucy said. “First they took her father. Then she died to protect me. She stood right in front of them. Fought him! Look at her. He broke her. You saw how strong he was. They laughed, Inspector. Laughed when Van Helsing shot her. They were going to do the same to me. But I ran. I ran away. I left her. How could I leave her? They chased me down the halls. You saw Jonathan? What has he become? He’s something monstrous now. What power in this world could twist a man so horribly? What could it have done to his mind? And they had guns. They shot at everyone they saw. My staff, Inspector. I’d only just hired them, and now they’re dead. Because of me.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“I had to protect the children. I had to protect them. Who would protect them if not me?”
The Inspector’s mouth was dry as he shook his head. “I don’t know. Please, Lucy. Please leave her. Let her rest. This is no place for a lady to stay. Remember her as she was. Not like this. Come away. We’ll look after her, I swear.”
With delicate care, Lucy lay Adele down on the ground and smoothed the dead woman’s bloody dress. “She was my friend, Inspector. I understood her so completely and she understood me, I think. It’s a rare thing in this world to find someone you can connect to.”
Abberline’s mind flashed an image of his wife and he nodded. “Yes. I do know what you mean.”
He took her hand and gently guided her from the room.
Led her to the front door, where she paused to stare out at the fog-drenched night. Then over her shoulder as she spoke; “The children, Inspector. Amelia is with them upstairs.”
“We should keep them there for now, don’t you think?” He shook his head. “They shouldn’t see this kind of thing.”
“Yes. You’re right.” She shot a quick look to the stairs. Small smile barely brushing her lips. “Leave them where they are.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Jonathan Harker heaved. His insides surged as though every fibre of his body was being consumed by energy. Electricity still crackled through his bones, forming ladders between his joints.
At the side of the Club, he pushed the bleeding Van Helsing into an alcove. Ignored the old man’s moans.
Whirled in savage circles as he heard a piercing whistle nearby. Mind a clatter of feelings and instincts which battled in a war no single emotion could win.
His skull felt tight. Like it was about to burst.
“They come,” he snarled. “Kill.”
“No, Jonathan,” Van Helsing said. Weary. Hand gripping his leg. “Please. Come inside. We
’ll be safe. You need to rest. Let the serum dissipate. Then you’ll feel like your old self. You’ll feel better, I promise. Trust me.”
Shake of head. “Kill whore. She tricked us. Tricked!”
Her laughter still mocked him. Left his spine rigid and fists bunched.
“Jonathan, I gave you a very powerful alchemical solution. Do you remember? It is affecting your mind. I didn’t expect it to be so bad. Some are more susceptible to the side effects than others. But I know what you’re going through, believe me. The serum gives you strength and increases the healing capabilities of your body. It excites the brain, too. Causing you to be overwhelmed by the sensation of heightened senses. This is why everything feels so chaotic and frightening to you. You need to slow down. It will wear off soon. Your wounds are healed. You will live. Do you hear me? You’ll live. But if you go back out there, you won’t. They’ll shoot you down. Enough bullets, and you’ll die. You won’t be able to heal from them all. Or the solution will wear off and leave you vulnerable.”
“Kill her. Want to. Want to take her.” Jonathan began to walk away. “Abraham safe. Abraham stay. I fight. Finish her.”
“Jonathan! Listen!”
“No!” The beast which had been Jonathan turned. Face swelling against reforged bone. Muscle shifting and bulging under every inch of skin as though a million snakes squirmed across his bones. “Abraham safe now. But Lucy lives. I go. Kill slut. Kill whore. All whores. They learn. Must learn. Learn to obey!”
Van Helsing drooped against the door. The hole in his leg had bled heavily. His voice was hoarse. Unusually soft. “What happened, Jonathan? In Belfast? Was Max telling the truth? I had thought he exaggerated out of jealousy. Was I wrong about you?”
“Belfast?” The beast frowned. Then smiled dreamily. “Belfast was nice.”
“And Dracula’s Brides?”
Jonathan’s eyes gleamed. “Whores. Sluts. Bring back Senka. Tie her down. Fuck her and fuck her and kill her.”
Van Helsing’s face hardened. “How will you do that if you go out there and get killed? She’s coming here, you know. Maybe as soon as tomorrow. You can wait for her inside. Tomorrow night, we’ll go together. Find her together.”
“I’m strong. See?” He flexed his arms, tearing through the sleeves completely as muscle bulged. “Lucy tonight. Senka tomorrow. Pretty Senka.”
