A Clockwork Victim Page 4

  “And there is something else…have you read the Times this morning?” Theo gestured to the papers lying nearby.

  Sebastian shook his head. “Yes. However, I was alerted to your visit when you were still a few miles at a distance and had not gotten far into my perusal of my morning paper.”

  Theo took the paper from the tea table and searched for a name. “The name is not here, but I know who it was. Last night’s victim was a Mr. von Bingen. He was a fellow clock-master in London. He was Swiss and an absolute artist with gears and springs. My father and he knew each other well. His shop was nearby.” She spread the paper on the table, headline glaring.

  “It concerns me that the killer has changed his prey. Do you have any thoughts why he could be going from these aristocratic men to a brothel owner to simple clockmakers? There seems to be no rhyme or reason.” Theo held her cup out for a refill without looking up from the paper. Sebastian poured carefully and replaced the pot.

  “Indeed, I do have thoughts to those reasons.” Sebastian steepled his fingers and then put his elbows on his knees to lean toward Theo. “I, too, have been intrigued by these murders. At first, only because of the nature of the crimes being in our city. I had been following the story that they were keeping the overflow of bodies in a makeshift morgue at the Royal College of Medicine.

  “My curiosity took me there to see for myself, purely from a surgeon’s point of view. There I encountered a very old colleague, by the name of Marcus Dwyer. The details of our friendship are not important at this time. A surgeon himself, he enlightened me that these were no ordinary murders and this was no ordinary killer. Marcus is a fellow vampire. He agrees the killer is not of human form.”

  Theo gave him a sharp look at the mention of another vampire. Even couched in Sebastian’s terms of an old colleague, it was a red flag to Theo. She frowned and put her cup down, but before she could speak, Sebastian held up a hand.

  “In light of this urgent situation, I feel I’d best show you what I’ve been working on for some time now. The design and details of supplies are only awaiting your construction. Follow me.” Sebastian rose and took quick strides toward his laboratory. Theo shot after him like a curious puppy.

  “Have you been expecting something like this, Sebastian? This Marcus, another vampire?” She trailed behind him into the laboratory and to the bench covered with specimen bottles, glass retorts and beakers, tools small and large, and various sizes of microscopes. There was a large convoluted contraption that seemed deliberately over-engineered to complete a very simple task in a very complex fashion. The latter was purely the outcome of a task to keep Sebastian’s mind stimulated while he was musing another invention.

  Sebastian took a seat on a high stool and reached for the microscope in front of him. He fiddled with the knobs a moment and then leapt off his seat. “We will return to that subject later. First this.”

  He gestured at Theo to look through the eyepiece of the microscope. “Observe.”

  Theo peered into the tube and back at Sebastian. She gave him a puzzled look. “What is this?”

  “It’s blood, my dear girl. Have you never seen blood so up close and in such minute fashion?”

  “I can’t say that I have, but…interesting.” Theo returned to the eyepiece and gave the subject a closer look. “Little round dots? Blobs? Dark red.”

  “This is what normal human blood looks like,” Sebastian continued. “Human blood,” he emphasized.

  “Human?” Theo raised an eyebrow at him and gave him a shocked look.

  “Yes, before you ask, one of my maids cut her hand in the kitchen. I found the towel she used to staunch the flow. No temptations, I assure you.”

  Theo turned her focus back to the slide under the scope.

  “The time has come to instruct you of the details of my kind…of what harms us, and what does not.” Sebastian paused. “But the most crucial aspect before even knowing this, is how to detect a vampire.”

  Theo’s eyes widened and she pulled a notebook from her pocket, never without her sketch pad in case inspiration might hit. She flipped to a clean page and poised her pencil.

  “No need of that.” Sebastian laid his hand on top of her open pages. “In fact, these are very grave secrets that I trust you to keep solemnly to yourself.” He turned and rustled through a few papers and pulled his own notebook out from the bottom of the pile. Flipping open to a page with sketches of glass lenses, he gestured toward the designs to hold layers of colored glass steady within a harness for one’s face: glassicals.

  “I have been deeply worried about your protection for a while now, Theo. So as I pondered this question of how you could see or detect the vampires, where other humans cannot, I began to design a pair of glassicals. They allow you to see vampires stand out in the crowd.

  “The design is old, but the lenses are new…very new. They are a combination of layers of iridescent and lavender tinted glass. When you look through them, vampires will stand out in deep violet tones. The rest of the people and images will look normally shaded.” Sebastian continued. “Vampires have a certain chemistry, if you like, to their undead blood that causes them to appear in the shades of lavender and purple. The deeper purple the more recently they have fed. The brighter the violet, the more treacherous. These shades cannot be seen by the naked human eye.”

  “Fascinating. How did you realize this?” Theo asked. She was examining the sketch closely. The only difference between this and any other glassical was the lens glass, angle and color. It would be easy to construct, but of great value.

  “I discovered this one day while I was working in my laboratory and pricked my finger. A droplet of my blood splashed onto a slide. My curiosity brought me to examine it under the microscope. I saw not red, but deep purple blood. The most extraordinary thing does happen though, after about two minutes exposure to the atmosphere the blood does turn to deep red. The deepest color of true blood.” Sebastian continued to gesticulate with increasing excitement as he spoke. Though a proper gentleman, he was relaxed in his environment of the experiment laden laboratory. He tapped the sketch book.

  “It did come to me that there would be a point where you would need just such an invention for your protection. To be able to detect others of my kind is critical. This would expose those who are of a deadly nature. The design is at the ready and again with your help…I feel we must construct them immediately.”

  “How exciting! This is really a pivotal invention for our work. They would be a godsend to the police.” She frowned. “I mean, that is, if we wished to let them know about…the threat.”

  “The police—no, not yet in any case. How soon do you feel you can construct these special detectors?” Sebastian asked. “I have appropriated the unique glass that you need. It arrived from Venice today. The colors are very delicate to produce. There is enough for one pair only.” He tapped the top of a small wooden box on the bench. The wood still had the posting seals and address on it. Sebastian gathered his notebook and box and handed them to Theo. “Here.”

  “I have followed your instructions to the letter before and always seen the most spectacular results.” Theo held the items carefully. Sebastian knew she loved a challenge like this. “And since I have engaged Hannah as my assistant, her help keeps me abreast of the vespertilio orders. I have more time to work on what truly interests me.” Theo seemed to brim with eager excitement to get started on the new project. “This should take me no more than a few days with your detailed designs and instructions. We should be able to test them and make final adjustments then.”

  “I am emphatic with my next request. You must continue to keep your shop closed—locked—while you are making the special glassicals. Even shutter the windows if you would. Let no one in.” Sebastian gave her a very serious look. “Tell your assistant what you will to effect this. I will come to the shop in the next few days. Until then, do not allo
w anyone in except for myself. Until I know more about this situation and until I am sure you are protected, I do not want you at risk.”

  “I understand, Sebastian. Thank you for…” Theo looked at her feet and back up into Sebastian’s eyes. She felt her eyes sting with emotion. “For your protection…and your confidence.” She touched his hand briefly. “Right. I’m off.” She turned, her braid flying out in her haste, and made for the main door.

  “Wait!” Theo stopped dead in her tracks and looked over her shoulder. “You haven’t told me the laws of the vampire culture.”

  Sebastian made shooing motions to urge her out. “Construct the glassicals. I will then explain in detail the canon of the vampire and how to protect yourself from the society of the undead,” Sebastian promised.

  “Right. Give me two days.” She picked up her pace again toward the front door. Theo’s mental wheels were spinning so fast she couldn’t wait to get back to her workshop. This was exciting but dangerous as well. What’s life around Sebastian without a little danger? Besides, she was still alive because of him; that was something she would never forget. She trusted him completely. Now she knew how much he truly trusted her. She stepped off of the bottom step and bumped full body into a handsome man with unruly dark curls approaching the main door of Blackmoor Manor. Theo lost her grasp on the notes and supplies. The collection slipped to the ground in the collision.

  “Pardon me, miss!” The man spoke first and retrieved her items. He gathered the papers and box together and held it out to her.

  “Pardon me. I didn’t see you there in my haste.” Theo seized her supplies and slivers of composure. “Thank you.”

  “Theo, this is Marcus Dwyer. The acquaintance I spoke of.” Sebastian descended the steps to stand beside them. “Marcus, Miss Theodosia Ambrose,” Sebastian continued the introductions. “She is a master clockmaker and gadgeteer.”

  “Pleasure to meet you, Miss Ambrose.” Marcus sketched a slight bow.

  “The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Dwyer.” Theo pulled on her driving helmet and goggles, swung her leg over her velocipede and kick started the engine, striking the spark to ignite the boiler blaze. “Please, do excuse me. I have urgent business to attend to.” She looked at Sebastian. “More urgent than I knew.” Theo opened the throttle on the steam-bike and roared down the lane.

  Chapter Four

  Evening came quickly. Heavy fog mingled with the usual coal-sooted air. The gas lamps on the street were all but useless, giving no effective illumination through such murk. The mist muffled any sound that might creep out at this witching hour. These were the exact times that most people were not out on the streets. If they were, they would be wearing their exo masks. Not Josephine. Not only did she no longer need one in her new vampire body, they represented the torture so many had inflicted on her at the House of Pleasure.

  The smut in the air was heavier than usual in the midnight hour. Josephine did not worry about being seen by many. She knew most would be shut up tightly in the clean air of their homes, in the safety of their beds. Gas lamps glowed feebly in the streets but it was easy to move from concealing shadow to shadow as a precaution.

  Positive she had the location of the culprit, she moved quickly to the street address she was seeking. Josiah Green & Son, Master Horologists, 334 Water Street, Precision Clockwork painted in gold on the glass advertised the business within. Through the grimy windows tiny gadgets glittered and spun in the window display. She had found the address of the shop engraved in minute elegant letters at the side of one of Dashwood’s little torture devices. In his state of final excitement, he had forgotten it in her room, a now fatal mistake for the clockmaker. The engravings on the gadget would soon be engraved on his coffin.

  Her superior vampire vision scanned the darkness inside for any movement of the proprietor. She knew he lived in his shop as most tradesmen did. No candle or lamp burned within. It appeared he had retired for the night. Perfect. It’s your turn. You made these implements of hell and now you will pay. Josephine forced the door handle; the lock snapped easily from her grip and the door popped open. Gliding in and silently closing the door behind her, she made her way to the housing quarters in the rear of the shop.

  Standing in the doorway, she watched the prone body of the clockmaker as he snored several bars of his sleeping opera. He lay sprawled on his cot, in deep slumber. His long gray beard trembled with each breath. He would never again have as much hair on his head as on his face. How could someone who looked so gentle be so cruel? Josephine straightened. Appearances were deceiving. Her razor sharp fangs burst through gums. In moments they were thick and fully extended. She leapt on him without hesitation. With no thoughts of mercy, her teeth clamped at his throat. She bit deeply; her fangs sank easily, satisfyingly into his flesh.

  “Ah!” The old man managed a single scream. “Demon!” His words began to turn into gurgles as she clawed at his chest toward his heart and continued to suckle at the carotid artery. He was old and yet was finding strength that was of a younger man in his frantic attempts to combat her. His state of terror and panic gave her some resistance. His eyes rolled and looked like a horse about to be knackered. Terrified knowing he was about to die, but fighting anyway. This truly was her favorite part, seeing the sheer fear in their eyes. This was the moment to savor.

  She pulled back and struck like a snake—a wide bite into his chest. Her powerful jaws crushed through his ribcage and ripped two protective bones from his breast. Another scream of agony from her prey, but with less force. Throwing back her head, she spit the bones across the floor and looked back at his panicked beating heart. She watched it tremble and pump for a moment, taking pleasure and marveling at the reverse of power that was now in her hands. Her keen hearing noticed how his heart was fluttering in time with the clocks around him.

  He was not dead yet. Josephine wanted him to suffer. She was not there to merely kill him or even to feed. She was there ticking off another body on her list.

  For a moment she closed her eyes, let her head fall back and listened to the rhythm of the clocks and the heart in harmony, in timed steps like a delightful waltz or tune on a music box. She mused that no one but Marcus had ever brought her trinkets or tokens of love, like a music box. The clockmaker squirmed weakly, an involuntary bodily reaction to the onset of death. The movement snapped her back to her purpose.

  The decrepit man let out a keening wail of pain. Music. She bit through the ribs again, aiming at his heart. If this man indeed still had a soul after the cruelty he enabled, the heart would be where it should be. Crunching her way through the bones, she rooted in his chest through his lungs like a pig for truffles. Careful. Don’t kill him yet.

  She loved to feel the heart flutter beneath her lips. She pressed an open mouth kiss on the exterior of his heart. It sounded like a snare drum beat to her sensitive hearing. A brief moment of happier days flashed through her mind—of parades and bands. The moment was gone and she sank her fangs deep into his heart.

  Blood gushed into her hungry mouth. Gulping, licking, slurping—taking only the blood from the heart would do. One hand on that quivering organ, she dug her fingers deep around it and squeezed to help pump and drain his last surges of life’s vital fluid. She gave one great vise-like grip to his heart and filled her mouth with the blood of her victory. She gorged and sucked until what was left was dry. One more off the tally of sadists. One more clockmaker to go.

  In life, Josephine had occasionally partaken of opium or laudanum to numb her pains, to feel dead to the world. The drugs were a last refuge of the hopeless. Tasting the blood of retribution now, killing to avenge, feeling the power to dispense justice within her hands and at her whim, was like no numbing drug. She felt alive in death, in the killing, and would not be stopped.

  Gratified, satiated, still sitting on the drained carcass of the clockmaker, Josephine looked idly about the small room until her gaze fell on her
reflection in the mirror on the wardrobe door. She slid off the dead man and stood before the silvery glass assessing her image. Holding her dress out to each side like a little girl, she twisted and turned. Ugly; her dress was becoming stiff and saturated with blood. This would not do. Soon the authorities might smell her if the dogs didn’t sniff her out first.

  Josephine toed off her shoes, shucked out of her clothes and stood naked in front of the mirror. Running her hands over her body, it seemed the scars left from her servitude were lessening. She nodded and smiled at herself. Pretty Josephine. Marcus loved his pretty Josephine.

  She yanked open the wardrobe door and ran her hands through the sparse selection there. She snatched a pair of rough woolen trousers from a peg and pulled them over each leg. A spare linen shirt, worn but clean, hung on another peg. She grabbed it, shoved her arms though the sleeves and fastened the opening. The linen was soft and cool against her newly sensitive skin. Slipping the trouser braces over each shoulder and adjusting them to the right length, she was pleased the old man had been thin and frail, just about her size. The new attire hung on her nicely.

  She hoped she could pass for a boy. Her shoes back on, she added the man’s canvas jacket, and tucked her hair into the workman’s flat cap. A long wool scarf to wrap her neck and muffle her face completed the disguise. It would hang down her bosom as well to conceal any feminine curve. A final glance in the mirror completed the transformation. She nodded at herself. Good.

  Josephine rolled the bloody garments up into a tidy packet, secured it under her arm and slipped out the front door.

  As she made her way back toward the church, she passed by a small group of street urchins huddled about an open fire pit to keep warm. She dropped the bloody bundle in the flames and continued down the street.

  “Thanks, mate!” one of the homeless boys called behind. Josephine waved and pulled up the collar on her coat, never breaking her stride. The disguise worked.