The Victorian Vampire

by Nick James

‘Please, take a seat,’ I said and pointed to the chair that I had left only moments ago. ‘Would you care for a drink, before they drink it all?’ I smiled while thumbing at the copper and ex-copper.

  The man nodded stiffly. ‘The rum does look quit inviting and warming,’ the major replied, and then he looked at the drinking pair who smiled and clinked their glasses together.

  I poured him a glass and settled down in Annabel’s chair. I could still smell her as my weight pushed the air from the seat cushion and into my nasal passage, igniting my memories, flashes from the past filling my mind. I was so happy once.

  I looked around the room and raised the glass. ‘The King,’ I toasted, which they all replied and took a sip of their rum. ‘So, what can I do for you, Major?’

  The man looked down into the thick dark rum in his glass as he swilled it around, allowing the firelight to dance on the glass. ‘May I call you Albert?’ he asked respectfully.

  I nodded in agreement and enjoyed the drink warming my throat as it trickled down.

  ‘Good,’ he replied. ‘Please call me Samuel. I work for the Foreign Office, as the drunks over there said, and as you know this Hitler fellow has become quite a pain.’ He smiled ironically and looked up into my eyes.

  ‘Bit of an understatement, but I concur,’ I stated with a wry grin. ‘Please, continue.’

  ‘Well, I am part of a department called the SOE, Special Operations Executive. We have been tasked to set Europe ablaze by Churchill himself and make ourselves a thorn in the Germans’ side,’ Samuel explained. He placed his glass down on the chairside table and leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs. ‘I’m sure you are wondering why I am telling you this. It’s simple, I want you to work for me.’

  The room was silent apart from the crackling fire. I raised a quizzical eyebrow. ‘And the Edwards boys think it’s a good idea?’ I asked, looking over and seeing my old school friend asleep, but his son smiled and nodded.

  ‘I think it’s a perfect fit, Uncle. You need something to keep your mind and body active,’ Stuart said happily but with a slight slur.

  I rolled my eyes. ‘Take your dad upstairs to his usual room and get yourself home, kiddo,’ I instructed and watched him manhandle the brute of a man whom he called Father. ‘And try not to drop him this time – he doesn’t bounce as well as he used to.’ Samuel and I just listened to the grunts and curses. Then I walked Stuart out to the front door and we embraced. ‘What shit have you got me into this time?’

  He gave me a cheesy, drunken grin. ‘I won’t force you to do anything, Uncle. Well, I can’t, you’ll snap my spine.’ Stuart chuckled before falling into the bush in my front garden, and that’s where I left him. I did hear him move about twenty minutes later.

  I walked back into the living room and straight to a countryside painting created lovingly by Thomas Girtin of Kirkstall Abbey in Yorkshire. It resided above the fireplace. I did think about getting a portrait of Anna commissioned. But even though she had passed, I could feel the slap around the back of my head and her chiding me for wasting money on such a pretentious item. The picture was mounted on well-oiled hinges; it swung open noiselessly to reveal a wall-mounted safe.

  I spun the dial to the relevant numbers and opened it with a heavy metal clunk. I reached in and took a bottle from the back; it was a pure black bottle without a label. After closing the safe and covering it with the picture, I pulled out two fresh tumblers and poured a good measure of the syrup-like liquid. Still in silence, we drank.

  ‘That is beautiful,’ the major commented with his eyes closed.

  ‘Somebody bought this amongst other naval items. It came from HMS Victory, supposedly from the Battle of Trafalgar,’ I explained whilst enjoying the burn from the drink. ‘There were several metal tankards with the ship marks on them too.’ I pointed to the dulled metal items on a shelf.

  Silence reigned as we enjoyed the drink and the major looked at the tankard. Once he settled down again, he started, ‘Before joining the Foreign Office I was in the police force, under Mickey, then in charge of Stuart,’ he stated and looked at me. ‘I saw you many times, of course, but you never aged a day, unlike the rest of us.’ Then we both heard the warthog-like cadence coming from Mickey’s room as he slept off my booze.

  ‘I admit I have aged well, but what of it?’ I asked in colder tones than I had intended.

  The man smoothed down his moustache, clearly not realising the danger he could be in if the meeting went awry, but I would hear him out.

  ‘Unfortunately, coppers talk, but not as much as a drunk one, and Mickey is one of the worst. He told me about the run-in with the Ripper. Although something horrid happened to you that night, I thank you for despatching such a monster,’ Samuel said sincerely and gulped.

  My eyes blackened. ‘Some say I am a monster, too, Major, although my wife found it within herself to love me, which took a piece of darkness from me,’ I admitted and took another draught of the rum. ‘But you wish to unleash me upon the world?’ It was then that I could hear Stuart crawling from my garden.

  ‘No, Albert, not the world, just the enemy, home and abroad,’ he clarified and placed his now empty glass on the side table. He steepled his fingers. ‘You have a talent for finding people and not being seen while doing it.’ He shot me a quick look before continuing, ‘I want you to hunt down spies here at home. We will give you a list, and we ask that you check our information on these people is accurate. If it is, then despatch them.’

  I couldn’t help but agree with his plan, and it would keep me busy and fed. ‘What about abroad?’

  He nodded. ‘The idea I had was just some trips to France, intelligence gathering and the odd assassination,’ Samuel stated and smiled.

  I copied him and steepled my fingers and placed them on my top lip as I thought. ‘Okay, but I will not kill women or children. If a woman is a spy, I will bring her to you.’

  ‘I agree,’ he said and clapped his hands together. ‘Well, as I understand it you are ex-army, so no need for training or a medical.’ He then stood up, giving a slight wobble as he found his feet, the rum was a potent one, and handed me a card. ‘Can you come over tomorrow? We can get all your kit together and your uniform.’

  I stood in front of him and we shook hands. ‘My true nature will be kept secret. Do we understand each other?’ I stipulated and stepped closer to him, allowing my incisors to protrude.

  ‘Not to worry, Albert. I will be your only point of contact and you will work for me,’ he said, steely-eyed. We shook hands; the deal was agreed.

  The next day I walked into a nondescript town house in Tottenham and then walked out as Captain Albert Morris. I took my journey home via my old shop to show off my uniform to Suzie’s granddaughter, who was the spitting image of her grandmother, to the point where her parents had given her the same name.

  Although I didn’t run the shops anymore, I always kept in contact with Suzie’s family. Most of them liked me, but the rest thought of the monster who slept in me. It was on one of these visits that I saved young Suzie from a robber. Since that day I had shared her bed from time to time; her personality was too forthright for the men around here. She was born in the wrong century.

  As I walked in through the shop door I heard Suzie giggle.

  ‘Well, don’t you scrub up nice, Berty.’ She chuckled and ran around the counter to hug me.

  ‘Thanks, Suzie. I bought you a gift,’ I said, handing her my hip flask. ‘It’s the good stuff,’ I added with a grin.

  She followed her namesake in most of her pursuits, although the twenty-something girl hadn’t killed a horse yet. That said, the original horse’s head was adorning the wall in the shop alongside the sword and newspaper article.

  She took a draught. ‘Bloody hell, that’s gonna turn my future kids boss-eyed!’ Suzie exclaimed before taking my hand and dragging me into the back room. She pushed me onto a chair, sat on my lap and wrapped her arm around my neck. ‘What’s this all about, Berty? I thought yo
u were happy?’

  I gave her buxom form a hug. ‘I was, but the Edwards boys gossiped about my condition, and you know what the government is like, they will use anyone to get ahead.’

  She pulled up my chin and locked eyes with me. ‘Did they threaten you, Berty?’ Suzie growled, but I shook my head.

  I have always liked her; the girl reminded me so much of my friend. It warmed me.

  The young lass stood up and straddled me, pulling me into a long, slow kiss. ‘I missed you, Berty.’ She placed her hand onto my lips to stop me answering. ‘I know why, and I know it wouldn’t work between us,’ she said before pulling my face into her soft cleavage. ‘But it works at the moment. I don’t have time for a relationship or a family, so come and warm my bed.’ She did not take no for an answer.

  I laboured over the girl for most of the night, until she changed the rules and took control, and then sleep claimed her. I placed a kiss on the smiling girl’s face and like the other times, I left her a note saying how much she meant to me.

  I put on my uniform, collected all the buttons which Suzie had torn off my tunic and headed home as the bombs were dropped on the docks, and the nail marks healed on my bum and back.

  It took a whole week until I was contacted by the major; he sent over a file of a target. It was on a middle-aged man who called himself Ian Baxter who had managed to get himself a job at the Woolwich Arsenal as a floor manager. The file said he was half German, although that wasn’t mentioned in his employment file.

  So I headed out early evening just as the accursed and much-missed sun said goodbye and the lands were bathed in the winter cold and dark nights. I donned a heavy work jacket, overalls and heavy boots.

  I waited for the man to leave work. Being a manager he left his place of work alone and made his way back to his flat nearby. It happened like that night after night. During the day and every other night I stayed with Suzie, but her irritation of being smothered soon pushed me back home with a smile. Clearly, she would never settle down.

  It was a fortnight later when instead of heading home, my target changed direction down an old cobbled street. The man was very conscientious in his journey, sometimes doubling back, but finally after forty-five minutes he knocked on a door. Mr Baxter was bathed in light when the door opened. As he stepped inside, the light was taken away by the door closing just as quickly.

  I moved closer to the property using the shadows and reached out with my senses. There were four men and one woman; they were speaking English, not German.

  ‘So, they have upped the output on the anti-aircraft shells,’ a man said.

  ‘Yes, I have the numbers here. Also, they have upped tank shell production for Africa.’ That was Baxter speaking.

  They were obviously all guilty. All five people were at the table talking about matters which had no place in conversation during this time of war. I walked around the house and saw the power cables attached on the front right corner of the building. I knew I had to be quick. I made a last check to make sure they were all still in the same room, which they were.

  With my vampiric abilities I jumped up and slashed at the cables with my claws, slicing them clean through. Screams of shock came from the woman in the house as they were bathed in darkness. She was then slapped and told to be quiet.

  I forced the back door open with a loud crack.

  ‘WHO’S THERE?’ a man shouted.

  They didn’t stand a chance; I was in the room. The woman was still prone after being slapped. There was only one man with a pistol, so I put him down hard and punched him out, sending him against the wall. A noise like an egg breaking followed, his skull being crushed.

  Unfortunately, my beast wanted to play. I had to fight the spies and him, so that didn’t help, but a kick in Baxter’s bollocks put him down, giving me focus. One tried to run, but he was caught. I twisted him around quickly before holding his head in place, and with a snap he was done. The last one managed to strike me, who knew how in the darkness, but a headbutt to the nose sent him off to a peaceful slumber.

  I stood over the crying woman. The beast told me to take her, then feast on her.

  ‘Wwwwhat do you want?’ she sobbed.

  I crouched over her staring through my monochrome night sight. ‘To feeeeeeeeeeed,’ I growled.

  The beast was panting and my lust was engorged, but once again I managed to reign the monster back in. But I wondered for how much longer. It clearly wanted to stretch its claws. So, a hard slap quietened the woman. I walked around and bound all of them, even the man who hit the wall, despite his head being way too flat at the back, and his eyes were open and bulging.

  There was paperwork all over the table from munitions to troop movements, this alone would’ve sealed their fates. I headed out to the hallway and found a spindly-legged table with letters stacked haphazardly upon it.

  ‘Gotcha,’ I muttered as I saw the house address on the letters. Now I could call in the cavalry to clean this lot up.

  I headed out of the front door, taking the letters with me to the nearest telephone box and dialled the major.

  ‘Hello, do you know what time it is?’ the posh man growled on the other end, which made me chuckle.

  ‘Well, you wanted me to work for you, Sam, and I work nights,’ I joked.

  He grumbled, ‘Is that you, Albert? What’s wrong?’

  I gave a bored yawn. ‘Yes, it’s me. Baxter is guilty as hell. I found him with four others, all tied up and waiting for collection,’ I explained and then gave him the address.

  ‘All right. I thought you would kill them?’

  I wish he could have seen me roll my eyes because it would’ve hammered home the point. ‘You can ask more questions to the living than the dead, Sam,’ I stated.

  He replied that he’d be there in an hour, and then slammed down the phone angrily – he was clearly not a night owl.

  I headed back into the house to see who would wake first and complain, or who was dead, at least they would keep quiet.

  It was just under an hour when an army truck turned up with a car in front and a very tired Samuel in it. I gave him my best salute and received a salute and a glare in return.

  ‘What do we have, Captain?’ he growled officially.

  ‘One dead, four alive. They were discussing the munitions output from Baxter’s work,’ I explained as we walked into the torch-lit house.

  The live ones were gagged and frogmarched with bags over their heads towards the lorry and an unknown future, which was most probably a long drop from a short rope. It turned out that Sam was very happy with the arrests, and with the myriad of other arrests after that night which tore down Hitler’s information gathering in the London area for months to come.

  I popped in to see Suzie on the way home with a case of beer, which we polished off in bed, and she caringly allowed me to stay as the sun was out. She was too kind.

  Chapter 7

  Hitler was now bashing the hell out of London, but that was better than bombing the airfields. The rumour was that one of Hermann Goering’s bombers accidentally bombed London first, so we retaliated against Berlin. My work was keeping me busy, mainly just ones or twos now. Some guilty, some not. I had to ‘ash’ a few as they were way too feisty, real Nazi do-or-death types, and they tasted like crap.

  It was late March, and I had to go into the office for a meet and greet by Hugh Dalton. The SOE was his brainchild, so I had to don my officer’s uniform and clean myself up. He clearly knew who and what I was because he flinched when we shook hands. I quite enjoyed myself. But instead of hanging around eating finger food and rubbish wine, I said my farewells and handed a small tumbler full of my Trafalgar rum from my hip flask to Sam before heading out into the chilly night.

  An hour later the air was alight as London was burning, bringing misery and death. With my quickness I made it to the nearest shelter, which so happened to be a crowded tube station. I made my way through looking for a space to call my own. Some old soldiers from t
he Great War moved to let me sit down, but I just waved them back down with a smile and a slap on the back – and, as usual, an offer of a nip from my flask. Soldiers love booze.

  I saw a space between an old woman, who was falling asleep against a wooden fire cupboard which held axes and similar equipment, and a young blonde woman, who was very pretty with vivid ice-blue eyes.

  ‘Excuse me, are you saving that place?’ I asked politely.

  The old woman snorted like a pig and continued sleeping, but the blonde giggled and patted the space. ‘Nope, it’s all yours,’ she said, as the whole place shook with German bombs dropping onto the city.

  I smiled and took a seat. ‘Albert Morris, nice to meet you,’ I said, offering my hand.

  She gave me a brittle smile as more ordnance hit the ground above making her duck slightly. ‘Veronica, Veronica Jenkins.’ She shook my hand gently. We sat in silence for a time until the next load of death bringers. ‘So, do you come here often?’ she asked, making me snort with laughter.

  ‘Only to meet girls,’ I said as the woman next to us belched. ‘Yep, she’s one of mine,’ I responded and winked at Veronica.

  She jammed her hand over her mouth to stop laughing. ‘You only go for high-class women, then?’ she commented with a huge smile.

  I clutched my heart. ‘What the heart wants, the heart wants. I’m a slave to my emotions, I’m afraid.’ That’s when I lost sight of her as she fell off the wooden bench laughing so hard.

  Once she regained her composure, and as the bombs seemed to have moved on, she asked, ‘So, what do you do, General Morris?’

  I straightened my back. ‘How dare you, I am a captain…in the Salvation Army, the watery tea section, I’ll have you know.’ I then saw a snot bubble fly out of the girl’s nose as once again she lost control and had to hold onto my arm for support.

  I offered her my handkerchief, which she frowned at. I pointed at her nose, and she took the handkerchief in a hurry. After wiping, she was mortified.

  ‘I’m so embarrassed,’ Veronica mumbled with cheeks as red as a stop light. ‘I’m not normally like this.’ She handed back the handkerchief, which I grimaced at and held with pinched fingers.