Heart of Darkness

by Claire Marta

  Dracula.

  The name whispers insidiously through my head.

  Chapter 1

  London 1897

  The Vladimir who was once a prince is long dead. His subjects believe he died on the fateful day his wife was murdered. In truth, it’s not a lie. The night I succumbed to the sweet promise of the Devil’s revenge, I lost myself to bloodlust. Animal instinct took over. I became a wild thing. A true demon in all sense of the word. Savage, brutal, I only have flashes from my time consumed by my first taste of inhumanity. Years vanished before I regained some semblance of lucid sanity. News of the creature who fed from the living had spread rife through the people of the region of Transylvania. They’d fashioned ways to keep me at bay. Driven from my homeland by superstition and suspicion, I found myself adrift in lands I no longer knew. My only solace is the knowledge I had ripped the throats from those who had wronged me and sentenced my wife to death. Those moments are clear as day. A gift from the Devil. Proof he had kept his end of our bargain to claim my soul.

  Although my reign over mortal men has ended, I still rule those touched by my curse as I was first of my kind. The children of the night. Humans made demons by the vampiric bite. Sentenced to roam nocturnally, they prey on the weak.

  None of them know their true origins. I am king among my kind. First born but they have no knowledge of the story of our birth. Myths and whispers only hint at their heritage.

  Glancing from the window of the carriage, I take in the scenes that pass me by. London, a thriving metropolis in the growing modern age. It still astounds me the discoveries mankind have made and still strive for. Steam engines and turbines. The coming of artificial light and other such wonders.

  With each century, civilization develops further. Time rolls on, and I remain unchanged. A ghost among humanity. I’ve fallen into a stupor. Clinging to an existence that has become an addiction. I know if death claimed me now I would not find solace with my Elizabeth. The Devil already owns my soul. An end would mean the burning pits of hell for my destination.

  Steeped in sin, I indulge in the pleasures of the macabre and taboo. Anything to occupy the ceaseless boredom. Drifting from country to country, memories are my companion. The mortal life I once had haunts me with a pair of perfect blue eyes.

  I’ve found myself lost in immortality. Adrift in a changing world I no longer recognize.

  Loneliness is a dangerous thing. It can lead you into decisions you soon realize are mistakes. Coming to England was not one of them, however. Luckily I have discovered like-minded individuals. Men with the same thirst for depravity and the perverse.

  The Hellfire Club.

  A place where gentleman of breeding and wealth can sample the delights of life. I’m well known among the members. I play my roll well. The foreign aristocrat. Exotic and eccentric. Strangely, companionship has not evaded me in this foreign land as it did in the old.

  The coach rolls to a stop outside my destination. With the sun set long ago, the oil lamps lit along the streets bring a glow to the darkness that previously was lacking. Another spectacle created by modern man.

  Door swinging open Renfield waits while I alight. “What time would you like me to come back, Master?”

  “I’ll find my own way home,” I inform him dismissively.

  His grey eyes cloud for a moment at my orders. Pasty faced, cheeks sunken in. Since acquiring the young man as my manservant, I have found him easy to manipulate. Enslaving him as I have done so to others in the past. His will is weak and his soul corrupted. Dying from starvation in a forgotten back alley, it didn’t take much to raise him above the filth. Yet there are times I sense within him a need to please me even without my sway shrouding his mind. An innate desire to serve. I have never found a minion so willing to undertake any task I give them, no matter how unpleasant or heinous. Renfield has taken to the role I’ve given him. Embraced it to the fullest.

  “As you wish, Master.” Scurrying back to the front, he hoists himself up into the seat. Taking the reins, he directs the horses to trot away down the busy street.

  The autumn air has a bite to it, although I barely feel it. Gaze observing those going about their business along the road, I’m careful to watch for anything out of place. Although I live under the guise of a wealthy man, there are still those who hunt me and mine. A secret association of human hunters dedicated to the eradication of what they consider evil. Not just vampires but anything they view as a blasphemy against their God.

  Although I am the first of my kind, I am not the only undead to roam this city. Descendants of my blood curse live among the shadows. Young ones infected by the bite of my eternal brides. I have sensed their final deaths at the hands of these predators when they have been unwittingly caught. We have become their prey.

  Assuring myself nothing is out of place, I hurry up the steps and through the ornate metal doors leading into the building. For all intent and purposes, the establishment projects itself as any other Gentleman’s club, but once you step past the charade, you soon discover the truth. It generates notorious rumors, but with some members in influential positions, they remain just that.

  Striding past the poker-faced servants, I head for the elegant staircase. I barely spare the few members dotted around a glance, along with the lavish décor and the portraits hanging on the walls. My pursuits are not in idle chatter and pomp. I prefer the delights on offer in the bowels of the place. Instead of ascending I step to the left and through the secret door which leads down to the true heart of the building.

  Even before it opens the sound of laughter caresses my sensitive hearing. Next comes the scent of sweat, sex, and cigars. Fingertips of one hand brushing the rough brickwork, I stalk down the dimly lit steps into the hidden basement beneath.

  Candlelight illuminates the vast space. At several tables, card games are in full swing. At others, women are servicing the members. Naked writhing, they take cocks wherever they are told. On their knees, some pleasure gentleman with their mouths. Nothing here is taboo. Nothing frowned upon. Sin, here, is a way of life, and we thrive on it.

  I gravitate to my normal haunt, a room at the back where those I know generally linger. The company I keep is a mixed bunch, but they amuse me and I them. Right on cue I hear Dorian Gray’s boisterous laughter. A whore nestled on his lap whispers in his ear.

  Hunched over the desk beside them, Victor Frankenstein scribbles notes oblivious to the debauchery around him. His hair a mess, shirt front unbuttoned at the collar. The young scientist is only here to indulge in his morphine addiction and other opiates favored by the members.

  A hand on my arm distracts me. The pretty brunette offers me an enticing smile. Naked from the waist up, her pert breasts are on display. Young and lovely, a seasoned courtesan paid by the society to keep the members entertained.

  “What’s your pleasure tonight, Sir?”

  “Maybe later, my dear,” I tell her, returning the smile. I’ve yet to feed. Fucking and blood is something I always satisfy when here. It saves me hunting the streets for a prostitute. At any functions I am invited to, I sample the necks of ladies of gentle breeding. The cream of London’s rich. As an eligible bachelor, the invitations are plentiful. My position in polite society is secure.

  “Victor has the notion he can conquer death,” Dorian tells me as I reach them.

  “Through science anything is possible. The veil between life and death can be pierced, if one is willing to go to any means necessary to achieve it.” The doctor doesn’t look up from his frenzy of scribbling.

  Poor Victor with his magnificent mind. How unaware he is that immortals exist around him. I recognize his sickness. A need to master something no mortal has.

  “I admire the human spirit to strive for more, but I cannot conceive how science will achieve a state of immortality,” I reply, stroking my bearded chin in contemplation.

  “It’s the way forward, Vladimir. The future,” he assures me with such conviction I feel a twinge of sympathy
. So focused on his work he lives for nothing else.

  Taking the free seat, I gladly accept the glass of wine Dorian offers me. Shooing the whore on his lap away, he idly leans back in his chair, observing the scene around us with mild interest.

  “I’ve been invited to the coast for a few days. Sir Westenra is entertaining next weekend at his estate down in Whitby. Has a world-renowned mystic coming along to dazzle his guests with her tricks. I thought you both might be interested in accompanying me?”

  Pencil stilling Victor peers up from his notes with a little frown. “I can’t possibly leave London at the moment. My research is at a crucial phase.”

  “I’m surprised I can even coax you from your laboratory most days,” Dorian replies dryly pouring more wine into his glass. “Surely you’ll come with me, Vladimir?”

  Away from London. The streets I now know so well and a feeding ground that not only I stalk. Experience drives me to caution. I have not survived for so long without being careful.

  “It sounds positively boring. What can the countryside offer that London cannot?”

  “Come now what else do you have to occupy your time? You’ve always been keen in these matters in the past. Anything linked to the occult has always stirred your interest. Besides I’m sure we can find something to amuse you while we’re there.” Eyebrow raising, he gives me a knowing smile.

  Since losing my soul, I have an awareness when the Devil has touched another. We are not like others. We have a taint of the unholy, which forever lingers.

  For all the beauty and youth this young man holds, I know it’s polluted. A beautiful lie that conceals something far more sinister. He draws lovers like moths to a flame. They bask in his affections and lust until they turn cold, then he discards them. Only a few like myself have ever remained immune to his charms.

  “A weekend?”

  “A few days at the most,” he assures me with a mischievous look I’m not sure I like. “We can even travel down together. What do you say?”

  “I supposed it could be a distraction,” I concede. What harm would it do? England is not like the old country; I remind myself, rampant with superstitious and weak-minded farmers who know the ways to keep my kind from their doors. Necks are plentiful here and the humans so unaware.

  Chapter 2

  “How long will you be gone?” Madeleine cannot contain her curiosity, as she watches Renfield pack my trunk, her French accent thick. The day dress she wears is very becoming in a shade of blue, a color she knows is my favorite. It matches her cobalt eyes, although they are not the blue I secretly yearn for. Her skirts fall to swirl around her ankles, the belt around her waist hangs low. Like the fashionable ladies about town, her auburn hair is pinned up on the top of her head.

  “A few days at most,” I tell her, watching the other female pout beside her. Clover green eyes stare back at me in exasperation. Unlike my French wife Madeleine, Crina prefers male clothing. She finds a freedom in pretending to be a boy. Dressed in a white shirt and trousers, she leaves the suit jacket unbuttoned enhancing her boyish figure beneath. Cut in a sleek bob her locks catch the light revealing the deep red shade.

  My brides.

  I thought they had loved me once. But even that was a lie. Seduced by my darkness, what they truly craved was my power. The bloodlust. An undying existence. Immortality.

  It had been a weakness to turn them.

  A mistake to believe they would give me the same warmth my wife once had. They could never replace her. Not my beloved Elizabeth.

  I’ve left it last minute to inform them of my plans.

  “But why? Why must you go?” Madeleine argues, dainty hands on her hips. “Are you bored of us?”

  I am.

  Not that I voice it. Where once they were in awe of me, now they have grown bold. It is something I don’t tolerate for long. I am the Master. Their creator. They and all those contaminated by my blood curse bow to me.

  Attention returning to view below my bedroom window, I take in the evening street. “London has grown tedious, and a break away is something I require.”

  Madeleine makes a sound of annoyance, her fiery temperament leaking out from her ladylike façade. She may look beautiful, but she truly embraced the dark. Unlike any of my previous wives, she is a true monster. There’s not enough blood in the world to quench her thirst. Running wild she has turned far more of her victims into our kind than I would like. She risks exposing us. A reckoning between us is coming. Perhaps after I return from the country-side, I will clean house. Rid myself of the problem.

  Crina, the quieter of the two, is a devoted lover and servant to her sister. Where she goes, my Romanian bride follows. A pity of course. It leaves me with little choice what to do.

  Renfield scurries around the room, silently packing. I know he fears them as much as he fears me. Under my protection they dare not touch my servant. They know any disobedience in that will end their immortal lives swiftly.

  “I have no desire to argue about this all evening,” I inform them, finally rising from my perch on the windowsill. “What I do or do not is not a topic for discussion.”

  My power thrums through the room, letting them taste my displeasure. My heart has grown cold toward them. They stirred but mere embers that fizzled out quickly. Losing my interest is a very dangerous thing, and they are both aware of that fact.

  Eyes dilating, they both back down, heads bowed and bodies shaking.

  “Forgive us, Master,” Crina finally speaks up, her voice low and naturally sultry. “We are here to serve you in any way you wish.”

  “Feed with me tonight then.” Idly I play with the dragon signet ring on my finger, the last piece of my past. “Renfield has bought us a fitting meal.”

  At the mention of food, both look up, gazes alight with a need for blood. It’s something that never lessens. Never abates. A hunger so demanding it possesses us if not appeased. It’s all we live for.

  Blood is the life.

  The sanguine liquid that flows through humankinds’ veins. Parasites, leaches, we do what we must to survive or wither and die.

  Cocking my head, I acquire Renfield’s attention. I sense his nervousness. He knows when we’re like this the predators are fully emerging. Killers ready to claw and bite.

  “Bring us the girl.”

  “Yes, Master.” He bows, practically falling over himself to escape the room and our ravenous stares.

  He’s not gone long. Our guest has been bathed, fed, and groomed. Wearing a loose cotton dressing gown, she’s bare foot. Brown clear eyes regard us warily. No more than eighteen years old, her complexion is smooth and untouched by the harshness of life.

  My cock stirs in the confines of my trousers. It hardens further at the thought of fucking this beauty before we drain her dry. Feeling her last breathes escape her lips before death claims her. It’s an aphrodisiac. Intoxicating.

  “This is Mary,” I tell my brides. “Her parents sold her to Renfield for a fine price. The worth they thought of their own daughter.”

  Crossing the room, I circle the new female. The faint tremor in her frame doesn’t hide her growing fear nor the scent of it in the air. Stopping behind her I caress my fingers from her scalp down the length of her soft chestnut hair. It’s silky to the touch. The lingering fragrant of the soap it’s been washed with is subtle but there.

  “Tell me, Mary, are you a virgin?”

  She doesn’t turn to me like I half expect. Instead she keeps facing front, her breathing turning ragged. “Yes, Sir.”

  Gaze flicking up I meet Crina and Madeleine’s. Both have an obsession with virgin blood. An infatuation with girls who are unsullied by a man’s lust. Perhaps they wish to recapture their youth or for one brief moment bask in the light of innocence lost. Whatever the reason, I can see my choice has pleased them both. Like lionesses closing in for the kill, they prowl closer.

  Reaching around, I tug the belt on the dressing gown free.

  Mary jumps at my action b
ut stands her ground. It makes me wonder what her parents told her? That she would become a rich man’s whore? His plaything to fuck? A life better than on the streets or working in the factories?

  Sliding the material from her shoulders, it slips down to pool at her feet.

  Anticipation snakes through me as I step around to view what I have bared for all to view.

  She stands before us, shaking. A thatch of dark curls lays between her legs. Hips rounded, her breasts small, the nipples tipping them are a reddish brown. Lifting her arms, she tries to cover her nudity, which only makes me smile.

  “Nothing here will hurt you. There is no pain, no terror,” I assure her, letting the strength of my influence hook into her consciousness. “You will obey without question. Do you understand?”

  She nods, her stare fixed on mine. Those brown irises now dulled with the control of my will. Taking her limp hand, I draw her toward the bed. In our wake, Crina and Madeleine follow. I can sense their impatience. Where I have tempered my compulsions, they are still slaves to the urges.

  Directing Mary onto the center of the mattress, I lay her out for us like a feast. A sacrifice. And that’s what she is. Food for the beasts. A lamb to the slaughter. There’s no solace here. No God to save her.

  Crina drops onto the edge, urging the young woman’s legs further apart, installing herself between them. Latching onto her clit, she begins to pleasure her. Our victim cries out, arching her back. Lost in ecstasy, she has no comprehension this evening will be her last.

  Madeleine crawls snake like onto the mattress to join them, slithering over her prey. Settling beside her, she bathes Mary’s left nipple with her tongue.

  Instead of joining them, I let them have their fun.

  “Leave us, Renfield.”

  My servant scurries to the door, clicking it closed behind him as he leaves. It’s safer that he doesn’t stay to watch. My brides can become greedy when caught in bloodlust, and I won’t risk the useful human whom I have become fond of.