Avalon Revamped

by O. M. Grey

  “I’ll be out presently, Thomas. Thank you.”

  “I could bring it in to you, M’Lord.”

  “Yes. Thank you, Thomas. Bring some up with the newspaper.”

  Still, I didn’t budge. Curled up in a tight ball, I stared at Avalon’s empty side. I had been like this for hours, unblinking. Couple of days, really. Since Christmas night. Alone after all. Just staring.

  I had sent word to Blackwolf, but he couldn’t meet on Boxing Day, and Chastity was unavailable as well. Seemed my options waned. Perhaps I should return to something simpler, like Hazel. Sweet Hazel Hamilton would be a challenge, and likely not all that experienced, but she would do as she was told, no doubt. Be available when I needed her, and be properly thankful for the attention.

  Bah! Needed. I didn’t need any woman.

  I pulled Avalon’s pillow to my face and inhaled her scent. It had been an empty Christmas without her, devoid of love and warmth. Lonely Boxing Day, too. I couldn’t find the strength to sit up or to do anything, really. Tea would be good, indeed. Tea would help. Perhaps ten drops this morning, as I needed some sort of boost. I had company coming, after all. Must present myself properly, and all. Yes, a boost.

  I could go back to keeping some living fruit in the cellar. Dangerous practice, that. For although they claimed to be willing at the beginning, they ended up wanting to leave. Then the shouts and screams did get ever so tiresome. No. Best to drink and run.

  “C’mon, man!” I chided myself aloud, hoping hearing the words might stir me to action, and threw the pillow aside. “It’s only been a few days. She’ll be back. You know she will be back and she will bend to your will. They always do.”

  I would do as I pleased. No one would control me. I would fuck Avalon when I wanted and Chastity when I wanted and whomever else caught my fancy. Hazel, perhaps. Yes. It was time. Whomever caught my fancy. That was just how things were. I was a Tudor, after all. How dared she expect exclusivity. Of one like me? Honestly. Absurd. All of me for one woman? Preposterous.

  A knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts again, but the indignation had done wonders already. Sitting up, I told Thomas to enter.

  “Your tea, M’Lord,” he said as he entered. “May I draw the curtains? The sun is well hidden, M’Lord.”

  “Very good, Thomas. I could use some light after all. Ten drops today.”

  “Yes, M’Lord.” He raised his sleeve and administered the blood before going to open the curtains. The newspaper headlined the disappearance of McFerret, and now, it seemed, Doctor Nesbitt as well. Blackwolf and I would be discussing the case and more, no doubt. Perhaps he had been right about Avalon. She was a fine woman, after all, but then so was Chastity.

  “May I speak plainly, M’Lord?”

  “Of course, Thomas. You’ve been with me quite some time now, always proper. Please, do.”

  “Thank you, M’Lord." Thomas stammered once or twice before he continued and looked away from me, then at me again, and then away once more. He wrung his hands then wiped them on his trousers. At last, with a slight tremor in his voice, he said, "I have served you a long while, and, if I may say so, I’ve noticed some patterns, M’Lord. You seemed quite happy with Miss Bainbridge. Well, at first, M’Lord. Always at first. Although you don’t choose many women with whom to become so intricately involved, preferring to keep it casual. Well, M’Lord, perhaps that’s best for you and for them. Miss Bainbridge is a fine woman, as fine as I’ve ever had the honor of knowing, and she doesn’t deserve such treatment, M’Lord. No one does.” He bowed in submission when he saw the angry scowl appear on my face. “Forgive me, M’Lord. I’ve overstepped, my apologies.”

  “That will be all, Thomas,” I said through clenched teeth.

  “M’Lord,” he said, then turned on his heels and removed himself from my presence before I removed him from this earth. The insolence. So unlike Thomas, too. How dared he? First Blackwolf and now my own help. After placing my tea down, I collapsed back on the bed, reaching out to Avalon’s empty side. She was indeed a good woman who was worthy of a man such as myself, and I worthy of her. For who wasn’t worthy of a woman’s love, but I would not accept being shackled so.

  “No. That’s that.”

  I stood, forcing myself to get ready for my imminent guest. Although, I was altogether miffed I had to dress myself. Again. Inconceivable, really. Especially now that Avalon was gone, I needed to find a new butler.

  §

  “Captain Arron von Blackwolf,” Thomas announced the arrival of my guest, so I put the newspaper aside.

  “Very good, Thomas. Show him in.”

  “Lord York,” Blackwolf said as he entered my parlour, hat in hands.

  “Good afternoon, Captain,” I said, reaching out to shake his hand. “I was just reading about our little mystery. Did the police say anything else after we left McFerret’s?” I motioned for him to join me, offering the seat closest to the fire, as I didn’t need it, and moved to the tapestried chair opposite, settling in.

  “They didn’t. Baffled as you or me, I’m afraid. They took their samples and made their notes, but mostly they just stood around and scratched their heads.”

  “No surprise. They are rather worthless. I went back to Ol’ Nick’s and picked up this.” I handed him the heavy statue, wrapped in a cloth to catch the blood and ooze still emanating from it. “Did you manage…?”

  “No. That’s one thing they did take, as it was so outta place. I suppose it went unnoticed at Lord Stanton’s, but it was rather strange for it to be in the small cabin, especially when Gladys”—his voice faltered when he said her name—“didn’t recognize it.”

  “Indeed.”

  “What do you think this black stuff is? Rather rancid.”

  “It is, and I’m sure I have no idea. Although, I no longer think Ol’ Nick is off cavorting any more. No. Indeed, this was foul play. But a titled gentleman, a newspaper reporter, and an Oxford professor. What do they have in common, besides these bizarre statues? They found one at the professor’s too, I read. Although the one there wasn’t even human, really. More animal, from the sketch in the paper. He was quite the collector of animals, so they believe it was just part of his collection from his travels, but the other two? Too much of a coincidence for me, I’m afraid. What else do they have in common? I mean, what could possibly be the motive behind their disappearance?”

  “I have a few theories. Do you think these men have been killed? Perhaps, bludgeoned with the statues?”

  “My good man, I think these statues are the key to figuring out this mystery. Indeed. Perhaps there is something supernatural going on here. Perhaps these men have been turned into these statues.”

  The look on Blackwolf’s face changed from curious to affronted, as if the suggestion of the supernatural offended him. “Don’t be ridiculous.” He dismissed the notion with a scoff, turning his attention once again to the statue in his hands.

  “There are more things in heaven and earth…”

  “That may be so, Arthur, but what you suggest is beyond ludicrous. How would such a thing even be possible? This is not one of McFerret’s horrid novels, after all. This is real life.”

  “Do you have a better theory? Why are there no bodies? Why does the statue bleed and ooze as if it were alive? What do these men have in common? And why are they all missing their John Thomases?”

  “Murdered, I think. No bodies because there are ways of disposing of such things. McFerret, likely over the side of the ship. He’s somewhere at the bottom of the channel, if they was smart and weighted him. If not, he’ll be a’washing up on the coast before long. Lord Stanton, maybe dumped in the Thames. Maybe buried somewhere. It’s only been a few days, mind. Doctor, same.”

  “And motive? The statues? The missing piece?”

  “Scorned woman’d be my guess, or angry father. Justified, I’d say, too. Scoundrels is too good a word to use for men like these. Hell, I’d have done it on my own for Gladys’s sake, if I was that ki
nd of man. I heard what Lord Stanton was like, what people say about him and the things he’s done. Monstrous.”

  “Yes. Quite. Lady Bainbridge suggested the same, but I thought the idea absurd. Honestly. Because of a romp or two? How comical, indeed.”

  “A romp or two? Lord York, even as young as you are, you must understand the great significance of love, do ya not? The profound sacrilege of promising and behaving in love just to exploit a woman’s affections? The staggering devastation of the broken heart and shattered soul that comes from betrayal.”

  “Don’t be so dramatic, man. It’s part of the game.”

  “Arthur. Hearts and souls are not toys to be trifled with. No, sir. They are sacred. They are gifts that are freely given, and to abuse and spit on such a gift is deserving of the greatest punishment. When abuse includes violence, sir, especially sexual in nature, then these men got what they deserved. Rather, they didn’t suffer near enough.”

  “Are you speaking of the rumors that Nick ravished that girl now in Bedlam? Look here, Captain. I knew Nicholas Stanton, and he was many things, sir. A rapist, sir, he was not.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  With this investigation going on, I must keep my head about me. Although, what would one more disappearance do, indeed? No. I took a deep breath and changed the subject, or else Thomas would be scrubbing blood out of my carpet. “Beside the point, Captain. What of the statues? Can you explain those? Why do they ooze and bleed as if alive?”

  “That I can’t explain. A trick, maybe. Something inside the statue? Why someone would do such a thing is beyond me, sir. But I have seen men and women do inexplicable things for much less of a slight than these men were rumored to have done. Have you tried cracking the thing open to see what’s inside?”

  “I haven’t. Good idea. Let’s get to the heart of the matter, as it were. Follow me.”

  I led him down into my cellar, although I hadn’t used it for nefarious purposes since the last mystery with Avalon. It had been rather splendid, hadn’t it? Working together with that woman, and poor Victor. Down here was where I took Lady Haldenby, or what had become of her, for interrogation. What would Blackwolf think when he saw the table and shackles?

  He was a man, after all. Certainly he understood the darker side of desire well enough. No mind. What did I care about his thoughts anyway? I didn’t owe him or anyone an explanation.

  “Interesting,” he said, looking sideways at me.

  “Yes. Well. Taboo tastes and all. My own little Chamber of Horrors. Surely you’ve heard of the place, haven’t you?”

  The Captain’s hand went to his sidearm, and he took a step back from me. Of all the wicked men in this world, I had to team up with a good one. I most certainly did not desire to be judged by the likes of him, nor anyone.

  “No. I have not. Who are you? What do you know of these men?”

  “Captain,” I said, smirking. “Don’t be foolish. What reason do I have to hurt an unknown, or barely known, writer, a buffoon doctor, and certainly not my best friend?”

  “You don’t seem all that broken up that your best friend, as you call him, is missing and presumed dead.”

  “Well, I’m sure it’s because we haven’t been all that close of late, if you must know. Besides, it just seems all too preposterous somehow. I suppose I just don’t accept it yet. I shall grieve when I know for sure.”

  “This looks like a torture chamber.”

  “Indeed it does”—and it rather is—“but it is not what you’re thinking. The Chamber of Horrors. You know. The brothel? It’s all perfectly acceptable, I assure you. It’s…just a place for those with discerning tastes.”

  “Uh-huh,” he grunted, disbelieving.

  “Quite consensual, I assure you. Some ladies like it this way. What do you think of me? I am a gentleman, after all.” Indignation often worked when reason did not, but he did not relent. Next, embrace him into the fold. Include him in the fun, as it were. “Madam Jeffries owns it over in Gray’s Inn Road. It’s all on the up and up. I’ll take you there sometime,” I said winking. “Matter of fact, I met Madam Jeffries’ cousin the other day. Snake Oil Salesman seemed to be a man who understood such things. We’ll make it a man’s night out. What do you say?”

  “Let’s get on with examining that thing, but I’m keepin’ an eye on ya, Arthur York. Know that. I ain’t one to be trifled with, mind. Mark my word.”

  “Of course,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Quite. Now, if you would be so kind as to hand me that hammer. That one there, the big one.” On the wall hung implements of torture, all used for fun. Most of the time.

  Blackwolf pulled his gun and aimed it at me. The thing, of course, wouldn’t hurt me, but there was no time for any of it.

  “Fine. I will get it myself. Honestly, Blackwolf, I thought you a more worldly man. Never heard of the Chamber of Horrors. How absurd.” Mocking him, shaming him might get him to let down his guard, but no luck there. I placed the statue on the heavy table and, aiming the heavy hammer, came down on its head with greater strength than a man, but the thing didn’t even crack. I did it again, with all my considerable strength, and this time when the hammer struck its head, a shock emerged from it, knocking both me and Blackwolf back to the wall. We each dropped our weapons in the blast and found ourselves on the floor.

  “Still don’t believe it’s supernatural, Captain?” I rubbed my head as I looked over at him getting up, rather shaky. He reached around the back of his head and came back with blood on his hand. “Blimey! You’re hurt!” My stomach rumbled.

  “Just a bump is all. I’ve had worse.” After pulling a handkerchief from his inner pocket, he held it to the back of his head. “You might be right about the supernatural, I suppose. Stranger things, and all. I’m convinced. So, now what?”

  “We obviously can’t crack it open to see what’s inside. Ah ha!” I jumped to my feet and spun around to face the Captain. The sudden movement caused him to step back again, arms up in defense. “If it’s supernatural, then to find out what’s inside, what’s making it ooze so, we must consult a witch or medium, perhaps. Yes. I think I know just the one.”

  §

  Madame Nadine sat on a wooden stool outside her establishment, smoking a pipe. A fringed shawl covered her shoulders against the cold. From her ears hung great golden circles and multiple chains decorated her neck. Between draws on the pipe, she exhaled frozen breath, huffing with her lips in different shapes to see if the mist would change the way the exhaled smoke would. Then, taking another draw from her pipe, she puffed smoke circles in the air.

  As we made our way through the crowd, that same cackling-hyena laugh pummeled my ears. Blackwolf said, “Good heavens! What on earth is that?”

  “Miss Polly Pooter,” I said to the little woman as she emerged through the people, right behind Jeffries. Always in tow. “And, Mr. Jeffries. How delightful to see you both again. May I introduce Captain Arron von Blackwolf? Captain, this is Mr. Roderick Jeffries and his assistant Miss Polly Pooter.”

  “How do you do?” the Captain said, offering his hand. Jeffries took it and stood up straight, looking down his nose at us, marinating in the fact that he was taller than us both.

  “Exceptional,” he said without returning the nicety. “As always.”

  “He sure is,” Polly said, almost drooling.

  “This is the chap I was telling you about, Blackwolf. His cousin owns the brothel with the Chamber of Horrors. Tell him, Jeffries. It’s real.”

  “It’s real all right, quite fun as well. I do like to have fun. What is the point of living if not to have fun, and my cousin, well, she caters to the less propa kind,” he said, mocking the English accent on the word proper. Yes. I decided I didn’t like him one bit.

  “C’mon Rod! C’mon,” Polly whined. “You said you’d buy me a biscuit. Please? You said.”

  “Isn’t she adorable?” Jeffries said, beaming down at her as if she were…again, a prized spaniel came to mind. One who had be
en taught to do tricks for a treat.

  Polly started dancing in the middle of the street, shaking her hips and flipping her hair and singing, “Please, Rod. Please. You said! You said! A biscuit! A BIIIIIISCUIIIIIIT!” People all around looked rather repulsed by the show, and I must admit, so was I. The expression on Blackwolf’s face, although comical, told me he had never seen anything quite as peculiar as Miss Pooter. In all my centuries, neither had I. She was all together distinctive, and it inspired me to want her in quite a carnal way. But, I shook that though off, for even a trained spaniel was still but a spaniel. My tastes were taboo, but that that taboo.

  “All right, my poodle. Come along. I’ll get you that biscuit. C’mon! C’mon! That’s a good girl.” The captain and I watched in utter amazement as Jeffries patted her on the head when she danced back to him, smiling up in adulation at her god. “Gentleman,” he said, tipping his bowler.

  “And tomorrow,” she whined. “Tomorrow you’ll take me to the circus?”

  To be in it or to watch it?

  She spun around in circles beneath his hand. Around and around and around, never taking her eyes off the object of her worship. “Pleeeeease! Roddy! PLEEEEEASE!”

  “You know that tomorrow I have a date with Cyndi, now don’t you? After work, you shall have to go home without me.”

  Her face fell. All at once, as if her everything she lived for had just been ripped from her.

  “Now, poodle. You know about our arrangement.”

  “I know,” she said, kicking at a puddle in a dip of the cobblestones. “I know. Cyndi. I know. But a biscuit now. Right? Like you always say, Roddy, be here now. And now I’m with you. And now everything is wonderful because you’re here with me. A biscuit, Roddy, please!”

  Laughing, he squeezed her against him in a tight embrace, her nose hit right at his navel. Then, he spun her around, patted her on the head again, and pushed her forward. “A biscuit it is,” he said. He started off, but turned to us at the last second and said, “Gotta keep them happy, but in their place, right gents? Good day!”