by Michael Bray
“I’m in pain.” Greer said, unable to get used to a feeling that had been absent for so long.
“Of course you are. Your pain receptors have been dormant for so long, that it's to be expected for you to feel so…delicate. You are actually through the worst, if it helps. We had you under heavy sedation to help you to deal with it, but unfortunately, part of the rehabilitation process is in dealing with the senses that you had forgotten.”
“What have you done to me, I feel…empty.”
“And rightly so. We have cured you, Mr Greer.”
“Cured me of what?”
Longborough smiled, and although Greer had a suspicion of what was to come, he couldn’t help but ask anyway.
“It’s gone, isn’t it? You took it.”
“Yes Mr Greer. You are no longer a host.”
“Then what am I?"
“You are human again, Mr Greer, just as nature intended.”
“That’s impossible. It cannot be done.”
“It’s already done. The things that you think of as pain are just normal, human senses. You feel as we feel. Hot, cold, taste, touch. All are restored and will, I suspect, take some getting used to.”
“You took it from me; you took it without my permission.” Greer hissed.
“No. We cured you Mr Greer. For two hundred years you have been plagued, but rest assured, Thanks to my staff here at Longborough Industries, you are a vampire no more.”
For the next week, Edwyn Greer learned how to become human again. He was forced to rediscover the taste of foods, and the indignity of performing bodily functions in order to purge the re-introduced products from his system. He received no visitors in that week following his brief conversation with Longborough, and was never allowed out of the room which was more of a prison cell than a place conductive to a recovery.
It was on the eighth day when Longborough returned, this time accompanied by two other men who hid their eyes behind dark sunglasses, even though the room was lit only by a single overhead strip light, and was actually quite gloomy.
“Mr Greer, I trust you are feeling better?”
Greer didn’t answer; instead he sat on the edge of his bed and stared at Longborough and his two companions.
“I see you aren’t in the mood to chat, so I will make this brief.”
Longborough motioned to one of the men who were with him, and like a dog obeying its master, the man removed a thick folder of papers from his briefcase and tossed them on the bed. Greer glanced at them, and then turned his eyes to Longborough.
“What’s this?”
“A legal summons. You are to appear in court for your crimes.”
“Really, and what kind of court will hear a case against a former vampire?”
Longborough smiled, and folded his arms.
“Because of you, and, more specifically my technique, a lot has changed in the world. Rest assured, you will be tried, and you will be convicted.”
“You seem so certain.” Greer said with a smile. “Why bother with a trial at all?”
“We can’t all be a law to ourselves Mr Greer. In the civilised world, there are rules to be followed.”
“I get the impression you think that I would be better off beheaded, or hung.”
“Either would be a suitable outcome, Mr Greer.”
“Then let me ask you why?”
“Why what, Mr Greer?”
“Why did you even bother to separate me from my vampire, when you wish me dead anyway?”
Longborough smiled, and checked his watch.
“Why do people climb mountains, or try to break records? Because they can Mr Greer, and besides that, I needed to prove my technique worked. I am responsible for the greatest invention the world has ever seen. Years from now, the Longborough technique will be mentioned in the same breath as Thomas Edison’s light bulb, or Alexander Graham Bell’s telephone. You were a necessary part of it, unfortunately.”
Greer snorted, and smiled without humour.
“Then perhaps, since I am the first, it should be called the Greer-Longborough technique. No?”
Longborough frowned, and shook his head.
“I think not. The reward for the hard work is mine alone to reap. You might be wise to consider pleading guilty, and save the world a very long and very expensive legal battle.”
“Perhaps I will, or perhaps I will yet live long enough to see you dead, Mr Longborough.”
“Please.” Longborough snorted. “Your days of eliciting fear are over. You are just a man; a weak thing who I suspect has even now begun to forget the extent of the power he once held.”
Greer smiled, and Longborough squirmed where he stood.
“A few weeks ago, if you had spoken to me in such a manner, I would have been feeding you your own entrails by now.” Greer slid his eyes from Longborough to the two men flanking him.
“And your colleagues there would be begging for their lives. But as you say, I’m just a human now, and for that, you should be grateful. But I warn you, Mr Longborough, do not make the mistake of thinking me incapable of that which my vampire used to be capable of.”
“Whatever you say.” Longborough said with a smile. “Surely you must know you cannot hope to win.”
“We shall see, wont we, Mr Longborough?”
“Yes, I suppose we will. Goodbye Mr Greer.”
Greer didn’t answer, and was content to watch as Longborough and his companions left, and locked him in his room.
Edwyn Greer’s preliminary hearing was held six weeks later at the central London County Court. Even though the appearance was only to allow Greer to place his initial plea, the media frenzy was intense, with news crews from all over the world jostling for position in order to get a shot of the world’s first humanised vampire. Immense crowds gathered, bringing traffic to a standstill as Greer was ushered from the police vehicle through to the courtroom.
The presiding Judge was ancient and harsh in appearance, and in front of a small team of legal representatives, silence fell and the Judge spoke.
“Please, state your name.”
“I am Edwyn Greer.” He said, flashing the Judge a sick smile.
“You are charged with the mass murder of over three hundred thousand souls, which, under the Anti-vampirism Act of 2020, signed and verified by the Nations of the World, is punishable by death. How do you plead?”
The room fell into silence, as Greer hesitated. He looked at the Judge, and then slid his eyes over to look at Longborough, who was watching from across the room.
“Not Guilty.”
The court descended into frenzy, and the Judge tried to retain order. Eventually, the crowd silenced, and the Judge spoke.
“You will be remanded in the custody of the United Nations Anti Vampire Association until your trial, which will take place three weeks from now on October the Fourteenth, 2022.”
Greer remained silent as the Judge motioned to the guards beside him.
“Take him down.”
Greer was led by the arms to the cells below the court, where he awaited the trial that the entire world was desperate to watch.
He was given a cell of his own, and there he waited, counting down the days until his trial began. He had been allowed a television, and had watched with much amusement of the world’s obsession with him. It seemed he had both supporters and those who wished him burned at the stake, which he supposed was a normal human reaction.
He was not expecting his visitor, and for his part, the man who stood outside his cell looked like he didn’t want to be there either. He was an obese mountain of a man, who had squeezed himself into a cheap suit which looked to be at least two sizes too small for him. He wore his greasy, thinning hair in a side parting, and his grin was as insincere as it was frozen to his face.
“Good morning, Mr Greer.” The man said, clutching his briefcase in front of him tightly enough to turn his knuckles white.
“What do you want?” Greer said, cutting straight past th
e pleasantries.
“My name is Gustavo Blackman. I am your court appointed lawyer, I have a few things to go through with you if...”
“No.”
Blackman stammered, and clutched his briefcase even tighter.
“Excuse me Mr Greer, I don’t think you understand, this is a very, very delicate case and I really think...”
“I said no.”
Blackman shuffled, increased the intensity of his grin, and went on as if nothing had been said.
“... Now, I think we might be able to get you a new plea as long as you...”
Greer approached the bars, and leaned close to them. From here he could smell Blackmans aftershave, and the not quite hidden hint of body odour.
“How old are you, Mr Blackman?”
“Well, I, I think we should...”
“You don’t have to be exact, just an approximation will do.”
“No, I don’t have any reason to hide it, I’m forty three.” Blackman said.
“Forty three.” Greer repeated, as he tapped his index finger on the bars.
“This coming February Mr Blackman, I will reach my two hundred and seventh birthday. I have already forgotten more than you will ever learn. Now you might think that I need a lawyer, and that without one my chances of being free are non-existent, but let me clarify, Mr Blackman.”
Greer grinned, and lowered his voice to a whisper.
“I don’t need or want your consultation, or your services. Furthermore, if you don’t leave here right now, I will telepathically communicate with one of my vampire colleagues, and have them feast on your flesh.”
The colour faded from Blackmans cheeks, and he stammered, struggled between grimace and smile, then without a word, turned on his heel and left. Greer watched him go, smiling all the while. There was of course no such thing as telepathy, but Blackman wasn’t to know, and even the prospect of the international television exposure that he would have received as Greer’s lawyer, wasn’t enough to risk being torn apart by a host of vampires, fictional as they were.
Greer smiled, and turned back to his television. There was less than two weeks to go until the trial.
Day one
October the fourteenth was bleak and grey, the wind edged with rain. The hype for the trial had reached fever pitch, and Greer was ready to begin his trial. He was relaxed as he was led from the cells and to the courtroom clad in shackles around his wrists, ankles and neck.
As he had suspected, the courtroom was jammed to capacity with people and television cameras, all trained on him as he stood and waited for proceedings to begin.
“All rise for the Honourable Judge Jeffries.” The clerk of the court bellowed, and Greer watched with some interest as the man who would ultimately seal his fate approached his seat.
Judge Jeffries was a slim, sharp faced man, with cold blue eyes and thin lips. He sat with what Greer thought to be deliberate flair, took his reading glasses and perched them on the edge of his nose.
“Be seated.” He said with sharp authority.
Greer looked to his right, and saw Longborough and his team of expensive lawyers watching him with predatory smiles. They looked to be enjoying the occasion immensely.
Even with the pressure that came with knowing that the eyes of the world were on him, Greer was still filled with a euphoric sense of calm. The Judge went through the preliminary introductions, and then it was time to get down to business and for each party to make their initial statements. Longborough was first up, or more accurately one of his lawyers was. Greer recognised him; he had been hyped up on the news over the last few weeks as something of a big shot. His name was Bernard Winthorpe, and he looked every inch the overpriced, overconfident lawyer that he was. His skin was dark and smooth, and his eyes cold and calculating. He looked at Greer with a half-smile on his face, and then walked past the jury, looking at them wordlessly. Greer looked at them with him, twelve anonymous faces who waited for Winthorpe to begin his case.
“Ladies and gentlemen.” He began, making sure to make eye contact with them in turn as he walked back and forth. “Do not be fooled by Edwyn Greer.”
He paused for effect, and then continued.
“Do not be fooled into thinking that this is about deciding if a man is guilty or not.”
He approached Greer and glared at him, then pointed theatrically.
“This man is a monster. This man is guilty of crimes almost beyond the scope of our ability as civilised human beings to comprehend. But, rest assured, those crimes will be paid for, and you, our jury will have the chance to do what is right and see this monster given the punishment that he duly deserves.”
He stared at Greer, who looked back, meeting his gaze fearlessly. Realising that he wasn’t going to intimidate, Winthorpe walked back towards the jury and stood with his hands behind his back.
“Three hundred thousand. That is the estimated number of deaths that Edwyn Greer is responsible for. Just take a moment to think about that number.”
Greer watched as Winthorpe paced in front of the jury. He had to hand it to him, he was good.
“Three hundred thousand.” He repeated. “Sons, daughters, brothers, sisters, husbands, wives.”
He shook his head as he glanced at Greer, and then back to the jury.
“Three hundred thousand dead. That’s more than the New York World Trade Centre attacks in two thousand and one. It’s more than the California earthquake of 2015. It’s more than the tragic nuclear reactor explosion in Japan in 2019. Three hundred thousand.”
He paced, hands clasped behind his back.
“Three hundred thousand.” He said, shaking his head. “And remember this isn’t a team or terrorists, or a freak accident or even Mother Nature. This is just one man. One man. This man.” He said, pointing at Greer.
“Innocent he may look, but don’t be fooled. Edwyn Greer is a monster, a criminal on a scale so immense, it is difficult to comprehend, but a criminal he is. And as with any criminal, it is up to you, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, to ensure that this monster, like any other criminal, is punished for his crimes. Failure to do so means that next time, it could be your children, or husbands, or wives or friends who are the victim. Please, I appeal to you to do the right thing, and keep our society safe. Thank you.”
Winthorpe walked back to Longborough and his legal team, flicking a smug, oozing smile at Greer as he passed and sat back with his team.
The court and the watching world held its breath. It was the former vampire’s turn to speak.
Greer stood, and approached the jury.
“In 1707, a young man was infected with a parasite which would change his life forever. He didn’t ask for this, nor did he have any way to escape. But the man became host to the organism which you refer to as vampire, and the man did as the vampire willed, because he was powerless to resist.”
Greer paused, and folded his hands in front of him.
“He didn’t ask for this, nor did he do anything to deserve such a burden, but bonded they did become, and the man was cursed to live under its thrall forever more. Mr Winthorpe talked about husbands, and wives and friends. I once had these things, and my punishment was to watch them die as they grew old and I did not. The three hundred thousand deaths that Mr Winthorpe spoke of are true. They happened. But that in itself is not the question that is being asked today. The question that is being asked is this.”
He paused for effect, and continued.
“Is Edwyn Greer, the man, responsible for his actions?”
He looked at Longborough, and was pleased to see him squirm in his seat.
“Or, was he the innocent victim of the needs and desires of his parasite? That, ladies and gentlemen is the real question. And one which Mr Longborough and his team will try to muddy with his phalanx of experts. I, as you see, stand alone. And I ask you this. Before the cure was found, would you convict a man because he contracted cancer? Would you condemn an alcoholic or an anorexic to death because they were a
slave to their disease?”
He looked at the jury.
“I think the answer is obvious. Like me, they are a victim of the thing that controls from within. The vampire that lived within me was responsible for things that I am in no way proud of, but now, as a free man without such burden, the only question that matters is this. Can you condemn a man to death whose only crime was being unfortunate enough to be contaminated by a vicious, dangerous disease? That, ladies and gentlemen, is the question that you would need to keep at the forefront of your mind for the duration of these proceedings. Thank you.”
Greer returned to his seat, and waited for the first of Longborough's witnesses to be called forward.
The trial format had changed somewhat since the early years of the twenty first century. Gone were the expensive, multi week processes of years gone by. Instead they were replaced with a new format in early 2017. Now, all trials lasted up to a maximum of three, eight hour days, at the end of which the jury would vote and give their recommendation to the presiding Judge, who would then hand down sentencing. The three day format put an end to the never ending procession of witnesses brought in on any given case to try and sway the jury. Instead, witnesses were to be chosen carefully, and the questioning kept streamlined by the relevant legal teams. Although initially frowned upon, the new rules meant that more cases could be heard more quickly, and more convictions made.
Greer was grateful that his fate would be settled in days rather than months, and watched with great interest as Longborough’s first witness was called. The man was sworn in, and looked about nervously, uncomfortable with the high profile nature of the case.
“Please state your name for the court.” The clerk said as the man placed his hand on a dog eared copy of the bible and was sworn in. The man’s name was Dietrich Barl, a German zoologist and microbiologist, who looked around the room. He was wearing a musty, tweed suit which looked at least thirty years old, and he wore ridiculous, oversized glasses which made his eyes appear huge as he peered through them. Winthorpe approached the witness, smiling and not quite hiding the predatory edge that was buried beneath it.
