Dracula in London Part 8

My thoughts wander and I only have the night to tell this story. You see, while I slept in the station warehouse, Sarah used the money I gave her for a first cla.s.s ticket to pay the fines of her sisters in crime. They had means to leave and so all managed to catch the same train I was on, getting the lowest sort of tickets and sharing a section of one of the cars, plotting their next attack like the devil on All Hallows' Eve.

We pulled into Sheffield two hours before sunset. They were ready, leaflets in hand, departing the train for the meeting they had hurriedly arranged with one of those wire machines... telegraphs I believe Mr. Harker called them.

I can only conclude that the women thought they had right on their side and so were careless, because while Sarah in man's clothes had eluded them for days in Whitby, three women in skirts could not manage the same for even a few hours.

I was first alerted to the situation by loud-voiced men entering the baggage car. An employee of the railroad pointed out that the boxes-my boxes!-were not the property of the women they had arrested, but it made no difference to the local police. I heard one of them walk close to me, heard the workers argue with him one final time, then the pounding of an ax... thankfully on the box nearest the door.

Splintering wood. Creaking hinges. A man's voice, demanding, "What is the meaning of this?"

By which he meant, of course, what was the meaning of the earth inside. It was only then that I heard quick-minded Sarah reply, "Earth, sir. My traveling companion is... is a... a wealthy man. He has brought plantings from his native land and thinks that they will do better in their native soil."

Plantings! How well she put it.

I heard the policeman mumble something back, then the railroad official repeated his warnings. "And where can I find this man who pays good money to s.h.i.+p dirt, Mrs. Baxter?"

he asked Sarah.

Clever woman! She never used her real name. "I believe he is in a private compartment."

"First cla.s.s is at the front of the train, sirs," the railroad official added, no doubt trying to get them to leave the baggage car before they did more damage.

"Are we free to leave now?" one of the women, not Sarah, asked.

"Your fine was paid, and Mrs. Morgan's, but Mrs. Baxter's to be sent back to Whitby to see the magistrate with my blessing. Glad to get rid of the lot of you troublemakers."

Not acceptable, of course. I see to my servants. The train would leave Sheffield at 10o'clock, which gave me too little time to rescue Sarah. But I had to try. At sunset, I moved as mist outside the car then went to the front of the train, taking shape in the motor room, just behind the engineer. I disposed of him quickly, drinking nearly all of his blood. I was not particularly hungry but such an opportunity should not be wasted. At the end, to be careful, I broke his neck then stayed where I was, waiting for the rest of the... the crew I think they are called, to come and join him.

The second man reeked of sweat and soot, the third much the same; these I killed quickly and in a violent human manner. Then, just to be certain the train would not leave with a different crew, I ripped through the wires of the engine. At the last, I dragged one of the bodies away from the front of the train, toward the pa.s.senger compartments further back. We would stay where we were, at least until the pa.s.sengers had been questioned. Plenty of time, I thought, as I made my way partly by instinct, partly by the help of strangers to the center of town and the police station. As I had hoped, the bodies had been found and there was only one old man guarding Sarah and a male prisoner in a separate locked room. I had already decided to take the moderate approach to this problem-which is to say the human one-if only because a dead guard and an escaped prisoner would bring a great deal of trouble on Sarah Justin, and through her, onto me.

Besides, I wasn't hungry any more. In your land a vampire could grow fat.

The guard didn't even glance up at me as I walked into the room, though I made enough noise to alert him to my approach. He waited until I stood before his desk then looked up from the book he'd been reading. "Office is closed," he said.

"Closed?"

"You can't get legal work done, I mean."

"I think I can," I said and laid a gold ring in front of him.

"What's that?" he asked, making me wonder how he saw to read.

"Gold," I said. "Nearly pure. And if you pick up the piece you will notice four tiny diamonds along one side. Worth more than Mrs. Baxter's fine, I would think."

"We're not in the business of taking goods for fines, and she hasn't even seen a magistrate yet. It will have to wait until Whitby."

Not certain if I had found an honest man, or only a greedy one, I laid a second, larger ring beside the first. "I don't care if these pay the fine or not," I said. "I want her released."

"I can't do that, sir," he said, though he leaned forward to examine the pieces. As I took in breath to try one final, persuasive argument, I caught a scent that likely saved his life-alcohol, some cheap grain, recently consumed from the strength of it. If I had been more fixed on him than on my reason for being there, I would have noticed it sooner.

"I can't," he repeated, looking up from the rings and directly into my eyes."Give me the keys," I said after a moment.

He handed them over, but fought my suggestion that he sleep. A well-aimed blow to the side of his head placed him in a state close enough to sleep to seem so to the first returning policeman. Just to be on the safe side, I found the bottle in his pocket and spilled it across his desk. The rings were in plain sight. When the others returned, they would think he had been too drunk to hide his bribe.

In the back, I tried the key in the lock of the room where they had put her, but though it fit, it did not open the door. Apparently, the drunk was not trusted with an actual set of keys. I wonder if he knew it.

With no choice left me, I called to Sarah-awake now and wary. I told her to step back then flung myself at the door. It burst inward with such a crash that my first sight of her was with her face contorted with fear, eyes shut tight, hands covering her ears. "I thought you blew it up," she said.

"No need. It is not so thick," I replied, though my arms and shoulders ached with an almost human sharpness. "Now we need to catch the train."

"It would have left by now with your... boxes." She wanted to ask about the earth, but my only answer would be the one she gave the authorities.

"There's been trouble at the station. The train is still there. We must go."

She barely glanced at the unconscious guard as we pa.s.sed him. Apparently my ruse fooled even her.

The station was filled with police. We waited in the shadows near the depot for the questioning to end. Two men pa.s.sed close by, speaking of the murders. Sarah became pale as one of my brides, but I swore on the Bible and my mother's grave that I knew nothing of them. My soul is already d.a.m.ned, of course, and my mother, being a deceitful woman in life, would hardly be bothered by my lie.

We saw her friends. She started to call to them but I told her to be silent. "You must not be seen with them because they might be thought-" I hesitated, uncertain of the word.

"Accomplices," she supplied and nodded her agreement. So we sat, speaking little until the police went away and the train was fitted with a new engine. At the moment the wheels began to turn and the train pulled forward, blocking the view from the station, I pushed her toward an entrance. No coward she, she grabbed the handrail and pulled herself up. I followed with far less difficulty and soon we were sitting in the stateroom I had presumably rented for us... the first time we were together in it since the journey had begun. We had, I understood with some concern, less than two hours until sunrise and would arrive in London in midday rather than after dark. Like it or not, I was at her mercy.

I had no choice but to explain matters as truthfully as I dared. To my surprise, I found that I did not wish to cause her anguish or take control of her mind, and not just because Ineeded her services.

She sat across from me in the little compartment, staring at the door every time someone went by as if the horror she would face lay outside our little compartment rather than on the seat across from her. Her hands clutched each other and the folds of her skirt, no doubt to keep me from seeing how they trembled. I reached for one. I had touched her before, but never for so long. I let my guard fall slowly, watching her face for some sign of understanding.

"Your hands are so cold," she finally said.

My usual means to approach the matter. "There is a reason for that," I said, and told her.

She listened to my story, more incredulous than horrified. A smile danced across her lips as if she wanted to laugh. "You are taking my mind off my troubles with this outrageous tale. You could make a fine living here as a penny dreadful writer," she said when I had finished.

I could have pressed her hand to my silent heart but that would have been too intimate, too... well, I would not. With only an hour remaining, I made her swear not to scream. And I changed.

I chose wolf form. A large and dangerous animal, it is true, but it has been my experience that women are far more afraid of bats, Dear Sarah! When I lay across the seat opposite her in the form of n.o.ble beast, my muzzle resting on my paws so I would look as tame as possible, her hands shook but she reached out and brushed them across my fur, then buried her face in the back of my neck.

"How wonderful!" she cried. "How completely wonderful!"

Such a woman, Sarah Justin! She watched with interest, not fear, as I s.h.i.+fted first to mist then to my own form. "And to think I have traveled with you all this time and never once suspected!" she said as much to herself as to me.

Now that she believed my story, I went on to explain that any exposure to sun would burn me as painfully as flames would her.

She understood and said she would see my last two boxes safely to Carfax. I told her she need not do this but she insisted. "I think of the men on the train with their axes and all you have done for me. Of course I will see you safely to your new home. The train stops in Purfleet. I will arrange for cart and driver then catch a later train to London. I'll have more than enough time to make it seem that I never left home at all."

Then she sat, hands in her lap again, watching me with a curious expression. Was it hope? She seemed to like the wolf and I enjoyed the feel of her hands on my pelt. But such a form is dangerous. I lose some human control and to have her touch me as she would not dare were I in human form... no, it was better to stay as I was and follow her conventions.

To pa.s.s time, I asked, "Tell me what you know of London."She spoke of theaters and pubs and the banking district and the rest. I absorbed it all-particularly the places in your East End where one such as me can feed without arousing suspicion. Thanks to her, I feel almost at home in this marvelous city, and the hunting is excellent.

I left her just before sunrise, aware of her gaze following me. She had not given me her address. I had not asked for it. It would be better that way, for she belonged to another and I owed her too much.

When I rose again, I would see my new home. I was far too excited for sleep and so I was awake when my boxes were unloaded, feeling the sun even through the thick wood of my daytime refuge. I heard the rough voices of the loaders, the creak of a cart, the snort of a nervous horse, then Sarah's sweet voice asking them to please be careful.

"Done this longer than you've been on this earth, Miss. Now let us be," the man said.

I was being lifted, carried. I heard the train's whistle, the horse's nervous whinny, a crash, and last, Sarah's loud scream.

For a moment, I tensed, waiting for the burning of the sun.

Nothing. It was the other box that fell, cracked, my precious soil mixing with the dung in the road.

"Should we scoop it up, Miss?"

Just go, I thought, and heard her echo my words.

It was a long drive. The wood absorbed the heat and made rest impossible. When my box had been safely deposited in the cool confines of Carfax, I felt her hand brush the top of the box, a finger run the length of it. "Goodbye," she whispered, and was gone.

One night pa.s.sed. Two. I found the old stone walls to my liking. I took the boxes of earth and scattered them through London, placing some in Belgravia and Bloomsbury and all the other places where foolish people walk the streets at night thinking there is nothing to fear. The rest, I hid on the Carfax grounds, a wild place with many hiding spots. And as I labored alone, I tried not to think of Sarah except to hope that her ruse had gone well and that she was happy.

On the third night, she returned to me, a little parcel of clothing in one hand. We met outside, the moonlight glittering on her tears.

"Are you hurt?" I asked, ready to kill the one who raised a hand to her.

"Yes. No... no. Really, I'm not."

"But you cry?""My husband learned of everything. I don't know how. He only said, 'Well, at least no one knew your name. Next time I'm gone, I'll lock you in your room and pay someone to watch you.' I cannot live that way. I will not. And then I thought of you, so kind and so helpful and so in need of a pair of daylight eyes."

"And you think I will take you in to help me?" I asked, carefully, praying her answer would be yes.

"Yes... and... no, to let me be with you, only you. Let me stay here and work for you.

Make me as you are."

Then she did something I could never forgive. She kissed me, betraying her vows and the loyalty and obedience she owed a husband.

I have been wronged by too many women, and they have all met the same fate. Would that Sarah had been stronger. But, out of respect for the help she had given me, one quick blow to the head and she was unconscious. I fed, and when she died I buried her beneath the crypt where I slept, using the box she had brought here as her coffin.

Tonight, I laid a jewel over the fresh-turned earth. And though I doubt G.o.d will listen, I said a quick prayer that, even though she broke her vows, he spare her soul. Then I went through her bag and found a letter addressed to you but never sent. It is a beautiful journey from Purfleet to Mayfair for one such as me. London. So beautiful. And so alive.

No, it will do you no good if you tip over the chair. There is no manservant to hear you, not any more...

Dracula stood, moved close to his victim, inhaling the scent of hairwax and sweet tobacco and, just for a moment, of Sarah's perfume. "No, I do not understand you English,"

he said. "Such a woman, a prize among women, and you treated her as a servant. One bit of understanding and she would have loved you, pa.s.sionately and forever. Instead you worried about little matters, and lost her.

"It is right to dispose of a woman who does not obey, to put her in the hands of G.o.d mercifully and quickly. But what of the man who pushed her away? What fate should await him?

"No mercy. Had you means to speak, you might even agree. No mercy. Fool! Perhaps she will be allowed to judge you in the next life."

And so the Count moved, silent as the mist to his bound prey. The last thing the man saw were long pale fingers coming toward his face, s.h.i.+fting swiftly into something more powerful, a beast to push his head back. No fangs here, nothing as soft and almost pleasant as fangs. No, it was the wolf who devoured him, feasting long after he had life to care.

Licking the blood from furry paws.

With a quick, mournful, howl, he was gone, padding away from the blood-soaked room, the silent Mayfair house. East he padded toward his retreat in Carfax. As he did, thealmost-human part of him vowed that the next woman he took would be different-softer and sweeter, younger, and above all, obedient to her master.

When he reached Carfax, he found Renfield hiding just inside the gates. Seeing Dracula, he rushed out and gave a low bow, the solemnity marred by his laughter.

Better, his master thought, far better than the other.

Good Help

K. B. Bogen

Not again! Dracula leaped from the sill and flew across the lawn toward the nearby trees. He landed amidst the small stand of English oaks at the same time the slender, cloaked figure entered the house at the Crescent. s.h.i.+fting into human form and turned to watch the window he had just vacated.

That irritating woman and her meddling! If she had continued her wanderings just a short while longer, I could have finished what I started. And if Renfield had not gotten himself incarcerated in that hospital, there would have been someone to waylay the nosy brunette. What a nuisance.

He really ought to do something about replacing the old lunatic.

At home, he had never required a full-time manservant to take care of everyday tasks.

Anything that could not be done at night, the gypsies would do. For a modest fee, of course.

But here in England, it was different. So many people. So many annoyances. He really needed someone to prevent all the unnecessary interruptions. He simply detested having to eat and fly. It was bad for the digestion.

He shrugged and stared at the figure slumped on the window-sill until she stirred, moaning. After a few seconds, she rose and stumbled toward her bed. Soon, my dear, he thought to her, soon it will be all over. He ran his tongue over the points of his teeth, thinking how nice it would be when the time arrived.

A moment later, another woman appeared beside the first.

His eyes on the two women, he took a step forward-and fell the last ten feet. h.e.l.lfire ! After all these years, he should have learned to land on the ground instead of the lower branches. He glanced around to see if anyone noticed. No? Good.

He wiped the dirt from his trousers and cloak, then spit out the dead leaves that had found their way into his mouth. After satisfying himself that nothing was torn or broken, he peered through the gloom at the two figures in the window.

The dark-haired woman, the one called Mina, put her arm around her sleeping-walkingfriend. The vampire listened intently, straining to pick out Mina's whispered words at that distance.

"Come, dear Lucy, we must get you back to bed. You'll catch your death in this damp, chill air!"

Dracula laughed to himself. Somehow, I do not think the damp, chilly air will have anything to do with it.