A Clockwork Victim

by Quinn Langston

  “It’s time to teach her how to defend herself from our kind. I’ve left her unprotected for too long. Especially since she chooses to be around us. I can see that we will both benefit from this collaboration. We shall start to teach her tomorrow.” They shook hands in gentlemanly agreement to make the pact. “And now let us rest, to start this endeavor in the morning. A room has been prepared for you tonight. Tomorrow you can take possession of your lodgings here. Matthews will show you the way.” Marcus followed the manservant from the room.

  Sebastian needed to order his thoughts regarding such a dangerous request. Fear of danger was not part of his concern, nor fear of the young rampant she-vampire. Concern was real. Grave. If Josephine were to slip up and be discovered by citizen vampire hunters before he and Marcus found her, he didn’t want to think of that scenario.

  Chapter Eight

  Marcus moved into Blackmoor with small protest. He was indifferent to his surroundings in great part, but to be near Sebastian would aid in their mission. Sebastian had a set of rooms on the side opposite his across the Great Hall cleaned and refurbished. The location would provide them both with privacy.

  There were tall windows with thick dark blue draperies that could be whisked across for darkness or blocking drafts. The servants had aired the chambers, scrubbed the hearthstones and laid a fire to drive away years of damp. The tapestries were shaken free of bats and mice and freshened. A new feather mattress had been bundled up the stairs and fine wool blankets dressed the bed. The suite became a snug gentleman’s retreat, with bedchamber, dressing room and separate study.

  A broad desk was found in another unused room. A tall walnut wardrobe stood against one wall of the dressing room, ready for hanging cloaks and such. A large chest and three side tables, comfortable over-stuffed chairs to lounge in and read near the fire, and several large glass oil lamps and candle stands for illumination furnished the three rooms. This part of the building had no gas lighting, being unused and very old. There were still iron torch cressets near each door, that having been the mode of lighting for the last occupant. There was plenty of unused space in the rambling manor that retained much of its ancient configuration.

  The men clattered up the stairs. Sebastian flung the thick door open. “Here we are, Marcus. If you can think of anything you need, we will find it about the place, I am sure.”

  “It looks quite comfortable, Sebastian. I must say, this is more of a home than I have had for some years. You are too generous.” Marcus held his hat and coat in his hands, then draped the coat over a chair. He tossed the hat to a large rack of antlers near the door. It caught an antler point and hung, swinging. “Ah, still have the eye!” They chuckled.

  Matthews brought in Marcus’s trunk, box of books and a few small items in a carpet satchel. A man used to traveling, Marcus was soon arranged. The books went to the mantle, the trunk at the bottom of the bed. A carriage clock came out of the leather carrying case and to the desktop. “There. Moved in and snug as a sailor in his hammock, I dare say.”

  “Matthews will take care of your garments later. I will give you a call for dinner. For now, good evening.” Sebastian left the room, Matthews following at some paces behind.

  Marcus walked around the bedroom. The carpet muffled any sound of a foot-step. It was certainly of a better quality than any inn he could afford, and not likely to render him vulnerable to thieves or thugs. It had been years since he had come to Blackmoor and enjoyed the hospitality of the family and to court Emma. That memory brought a tinge of hurt, and he moved to throw another split of wood on the fire. He would sit by the fire and think of his old love.

  The day after moving in, Sebastian and Marcus roamed over the old building. There were stone towers, some crumbling, others in passable repair. Rooms and halls stretched in no real order, built as was required in the time where a home indeed was a castle, a place of defense for the master of the manor and his people to shelter. A long stone stable stood mostly empty, a storehouse with a few sacks of oats and many mice, an outbuilding that held a tidy smithy, and several small houses, occupied by the servants, that would have once lined the inner defense wall. There were remnants of several styles of building, mostly stone, and most resembling a castle. An ancient fortress, indeed.

  They scrambled to the top of the tower in best repair, slipping and sliding over loose stones, grabbing handholds here and there. “You can see the village from here. And the river. There’s still good fishing there, Sneed says. If there are air-ships about it makes quite a sight from this viewpoint.” Sebastian pointed. “That brown smudge there, low in the sky…that is the city.

  “When I was a boy, I’d come up here and play. No one else would dare come up the stairs. They thought it was too dangerous. I’d hide and drop stones on the servants.” The wind swept across the stones, making small moans. “My mother would be very angry with me.” He smiled. He sat on the stone coping and looked over the rolling hills. The air was so much cleaner here, not the steamy murk of the city. The atmosphere smelled of grass, not of coal fumes.

  The trip to the tower had a purpose other than sight-seeing. Sebastian wanted to broach the subject of Marcus’s food source, as he did not wish to lose any of his servants or village people.

  “I don’t think we can see it from here, but to the south—just over those trees—that is the source of the family gold.” He pointed to a thick cluster of oaks a mile away. “After Father and Mother died, my brother Julian inherited the manor. He never had a head for money and almost lost the estate, through neglect. Julian being lured away by the military’s fame and glory, Father should have been content to allow him to be the dashing soldier and I, the careful land owner.

  “When I returned, I saw what was happening and took the reins. He didn’t care as long as the cash flowed into his pockets.” Sebastian dusted the dirt from his trouser knees and rubbed his hands down his thighs. “And you knew Julian. He never denied himself anything.”

  Marcus sat on sun-bleached stone. “The family gold, eh? Not a mine surely.”

  “No, not a mine. Even in the oldest days, the manor had a thriving farm. I suppose our family was more farmers than noblemen. It’s a talent, to take care of the land properly. Some people could be sharp about that. People don’t seem to respect money that is earned by honest work.” Sebastian took off his hat and turned it in his hands. “Remember how Emma could be snubbed when she went into the city?”

  “Yes, people could be quite cruel.”

  “Yes, well, that is all past. When I took stock here, I saw our best resource was a pig farm.” Sebastian smiled ruefully. “Not exactly a gentleman’s occupation.”

  “A pig farm? I am amazed! I would have never surmised…a pig farm.” Marcus looked back at the oak cluster in the distance. “And this is profitable?”

  “Oh yes, it brings in well over the amount needed for the manor. I’ve made some fortuitous investments through the years, as well.

  “London loves its chops and roasts. And there is bacon and sausage.” Sebastian brushed back his hair and reset his hat. “It gives the little village plenty of employment, as well. I fancy I have kept many a family on the land and out of the evils of the city.”

  “I must admit I had no idea.” Marcus chuckled. “Pigs! And you, such a gentleman.”

  Almost immediately at his changing, Sebastian had vowed to never feed on humans. The monster within him never completely took over to allow him to separate his humanity for the sake of sustenance. Sebastian had disciplined himself early on to live on a diet of fresh, warm pig’s blood. It was a food most like human blood in nutritional value. He had felt no diminution in his vampire powers of speed and other super-sensitive talents.

  After he had returned home, he had expanded a single feature of the manor’s self-sufficient farm to both support the holdings and his need—they built a modern piggery.

  The swine were prize winners in
local fairs; the barn rafters were festooned with blue and red rosettes from the competitions. The piggery was cleaner than most kitchens and shops. All this cleanliness was an outrageous modern idea but the porkers were certainly thriving, and no taint of disease ever touched Blackmoor swine. This pork brought top prices, even selling to the palace. The sales of pork and prime stock brought in plenty of cash to keep the manor as isolated and running profitably as anyone could wish.

  Sebastian had contact only with the trusted farm manager. He was paid well and as long as all was done honestly and the farm flourished, there was no interference from the owner he assumed was abroad. There was little connection in the minds of the modern population with Sebastian, supposedly long dead, and the crumbling castle.

  Sebastian turned to Marcus. “Which brings us to the point of my conversation. When I was first turned to the vampire life, I resisted the necessity of the diet of human blood with all my soul. I simply could not justify the taking of a life simply to sustain my own needs. It was a terrible moral and physical dilemma. I had made up my mind to die rather than feed from another human. It was an incredibly painful time.

  “When I came back to the manor, I began to experiment with other bloods…that of cows, chickens, even horses. I finally tried swine blood and found it suited me well. On this diet, I regained my health, which had suffered greatly while I was searching for the proper food. Now twice a day, a clean, fresh carboy of blood comes to the kitchen and is kept in the heated samovars for my use.

  “Marcus, I must request that you take on this diet. At least as long as you reside here.”

  “I will certainly be willing to try. But if it does not work for me, let us part friends, and I will leave. The city has enough miscreants to feed me and many more, and it will only improve London for their loss.” Marcus held out his hand for a handshake. “Let us seal this deal.”

  “Excellent!” Sebastian grasped the offered hand and shook vigorously. “The servants know the routine and you will be not inconvenienced.”

  Chapter Nine

  Theo awoke in the most elegant of rooms in Sebastian’s Blackmoor Manor. She knew this was the suite he had prepared for her some time ago, hoping she would change her abode to his more lavish holdings. She had steadfastly refused, but now she must reconsider the offer for her own safety. He’d even made sure she had a warm bath drawn and had a clean cotton night gown for her after the distressing episode at the shop.

  The servants were kind and took care of her as if she were the lady of the house, indeed. It was a totally new experience to be doted upon in such a way. She couldn’t have welcomed it more at this time.

  Sebastian’s staff had been with him for generations and they all knew and accepted his condition. From what Theo could observe, they treated it as a sort of medical disorder, a physical defect contracted in the war. He was kind and generous to his staff. They did not fear him and they kept his secrets. Theo had known men with less power to be extremely cruel to their servants. By nature he was a monster, but he clung to his humanity and did not let the darker side of his mind take over. Theo trusted Sebastian with her life and she knew he trusted her with his.

  She stretched and looked at the lovely peach wallpaper covered in flowers and what appeared to be lovebirds. Such a contrast from before, where there was blood of her assistant painting the walls of her shop. I’m so very sorry, Hannah. She could never truly wash the blood off her hands for Hannah’s death, but when they caught the killer she hoped she might feel better. Two days had passed but still the scene was fresh before her eyes. She forced those images out of her mind.

  The velvet drapes at the sides of the canopy bed had been tied back for the morning, by some soft-footed servant. The fire had been laid and kindled, as well, to take off the morning chill.

  Theo padded to the window and looked down from her second story suite. Moggy had made her nest on the wide stone coping and leaned happily against her hand, purring. As she stroked the cat, she surveyed the wide stretches of green pastures and ancient oak trees. The air was clear; little of the city’s filthy air had clawed its way so far. What a contrast of serenity surrounded Sebastian at his home compared to the rest of his life. Theo was only just getting used to Sebastian’s world. This world was so different from all her days spent in the peaceable little shop, with little noise other than the rhythmic tick and click of clocks and whirring of gadgets. This world of Sebastian’s seemed to include a great deal of death and violence no matter how he tried to shield her from it. First her father, then Julian and his clockwork army, now this new killer. What could possibly be next?

  She spied her clothes clean, folded and ironed on the dressing table. The same servant that pulled her bed curtains must have delivered them. Like magic, this life, with little effort but still so much anxiety and violence.

  Surely it was time for breakfast by now. She slipped into her clean trousers, and linen shirt and fastened her leather corset. Patting her pockets, she checked that her little tools and items she might require were securely stowed. Each seam and tiny pleat concealed something important, a tiny screw driver, an awl, a lock-pick. A fresh day. A fresh start.

  Pulling on her boots and buttoning up the gaiters, she thought about Marcus. Theo liked Marcus well enough and would accept him as being an old colleague and companion of Sebastian’s, but, if she could, she would not allow him to put Sebastian in danger. His life was far more important to her at this stage.

  For some reason she felt that Marcus had brought this trouble to London. Somehow, he had a hand in the murders. Marcus had yet to fully establish himself as trustworthy to her. Old army friends didn’t mean all that much to her. She would continue to be cautious about him until he proved her otherwise.

  Theo looked in the mirror, and quickly dragged a brush through her long hair. One, two, three strokes were enough to restore order to her long brown locks. Her new Expositus Vampiricus Glassicals were on the table. She had named them and Sebastian approved. The past days had been too frantic to discuss them. It was why the men had come to the shop, before the explosion and the revelation of the murder. She pulled them on her head and settled them above her forehead.

  Hurrying out the door, she continued to plait her hair over her shoulder into a single braid as she clattered down the stairs. Not very lady-like, but that was the way she was. No time to change now.

  The smell of sizzling bacon rose up the stairs and she quickened her pace. Her stomach growled, reminding her it had been a while since she had eaten. “Good morning, Sebastian. Marcus.”

  “Theo.” The men rose from their chairs briefly to bid her welcome. Sebastian gestured toward the tea table, laden with more food than one small woman could eat. “Please, have a spot of breakfast.”

  She took a china plate and began to fill it from the buffet of goodies Cook left for her. Mrs. Browne seemed to enjoy pulling out her long-unused cooking skills for the new visitor.

  There was everything under the sun for her. “Oh lovely!” she breathed, surveying the laden table. Steaming hot tea, raspberry jam, warm scones, fresh eggs, thick rashers of bacon were lovingly arranged. At her shop, breakfast was usually a hurriedly boiled egg and a cup of tea sipped at the workbench. The samovars were for the men. Sebastian had told her many times that was his “breakfast”. Now it would also be Marcus’s. The samovars were discreetly filled with warm pig’s blood. A happy coincidence that there was always prime bacon and ham, for any human diners.

  “Good morning, Theo.” Marcus raised his cup in salutation, then pulled out a chair for her to take a seat.

  “Did you sleep well?” Sebastian asked her, always the gentleman. He smiled, and sipped from his cup. “I had Helen prepare your clothes. We will have to get the rest of your things later.”

  “Yes. That is the most lovely of rooms. I feel it sinks into my dreams and brings peace. At least for the moment.” Theo took a warm scone and slat
hered the bread with clotted cream and raspberry jam. “And thank you for the clean clothes.”

  “I’m so very glad to hear that. I have a surprise for you after breakfast,” Sebastian continued. “Something to take your mind off the events of the past few days. I have gathered all the pieces to your destroyed velocipede and even some spare parts and had them delivered to the manor.

  “Bart, my smithy, has set up a place in the stable for you and is going to be at your service to construct any additional parts you might need to recreate your seated motor machine. You might wish to take on his daughter as your assistant, as well. She is quite bright and able.”

  “Oh, Sebastian!” In her impulsive manner, Theo jumped out of her chair, scone still in hand, and started to throw her arms around him. At the last second she pulled back and patted his shoulder awkwardly instead. She did not wish to be unmannerly, and her ebullient spirits were often hard to contain. “Thank you so much. This is wonderful. I will get started right away.”

  “Stop, stop. Please, sit down, and have a proper breakfast. There’s a lot to be accomplished today.” He smiled at her enthusiasm. Sebastian never seemed to mind her lively spirits. It was a definite change from the restraint shown by most women of this age.

  Theo took a seat, albeit at the edge of her chair. “This is all such a treat.” She wiped a bit of jam from her face. She grabbed her cup of tea and gulped it down, and buttered another scone. The scone was down in three bites.

  “Really, I must get out and to work.” She took a piece of bacon to munch on her way out and headed for the door. “Thank you again!” she called from behind her and jogged out to the workshop.

  Marcus followed her dash with his gaze. “Is she always that…energetic?” He rose to fill his cup from the samovar. “It must be her manner of dress.”