Watchword Is My Watchword Chapter 1: The Fabulous Dr Boldcastle, a discworld fanfic

"I would like you to repeat after me... I am not a mad-eyed dribbling bloodsucker."

"I am not a mad-eyed dribbling bloodsucker."

"I do not relish chewing the throats of saturnine young men."

"People are not watching me and mentally sharpening stakes as I walk past."

"Do you believe everything you have just said?"

"Do you- oh. Yes. Yes I do."

"You sound hesitant."

"Yes I do!"

"And quiet."

"YES I DO!"

"Excellent!" There was a brisk snap as a stylish, cruel black notebook was shut sharply on some rather unpleasant notes. "I think you've made wonderful progress, my lady..."

"Oh, I'm Ms Doyle now, doctor. Prudence Doyle."

A brisk nod from a stylish, cruel head of black hair. "Very apt, Ms Doyle. Very apt."

The vampiress got up from the couch in a movement of embarrassing fluidity and beauty, remembering to stumble as she stood up in her sensible, ugly beige shoes. "Is everything alright, Dr Boldcastle?" she asked, reaching into a pocket to bring out an expensive fountain pen and cheque book. "Only your voice seems higher than usual, you see. You do not, perchance, have a sore," here the newly christened Ms Doyle appeared to struggle, before settling on, "voice box?"

Dr Boldcastle bowed from the waist. "A minor cold, your ladysh- Ms Doyle. I have no doubt it will pass with alacrity."

Writing out the astronomical sum, the vampiress nodded her head. "Y-ees," she said uncertainly. "I think perhaps I am strong enough now... Maybe in our next session we can dispense of the mask and gloves? Your flesh will no longer tempt to me to slavering, gibbering insanity, I think."

"And I hope and pray, dear Ms Doyle. As you wish, I will come naked of face and hands next week. But I will bring the cattle-prod as a precaution. And would you like me to stop wearing infernally strong cologne?"

"Ah, no... close environments and the scent of human flesh teamed together are still..." Again Ms Doyle trailed off, trailed her hand up to her bony chin and wiped a glistening trail of saliva from it.

"As you wish, as you wish," purred the doctor, taking the cheque smoothly. "And now, good day Ms Doyle. Same time next week... pray don't be late... Goodbye, gods speed..."

Dr Boldcastle watched the vampiress trot off down the high-rent street. When the doctor was quite sure Ms Doyle had vanished off to whatever sad, desperate hostel she called home, he drew the blinds, ambled over to the desk and made some sort of obscene noise into the mouthpiece.

"Edna? Kindly cancel the remainder of my appointments today. I believe I have a cold coming on."

Then Dr Boldcastle locked the door and faded the light, and only then did he open the cupboard which he had jammed shut some two hours previously with a chair.

Out tumbled a skinny, harrassed man in an exquisitely cut suit, coincidentally a carbon copy of the one Dr Boldcastle, masked and gloved and wrapped in heinously strong cologne, wore now.

"Barbarian!" barked the cupboard man. Actually, owing to the gag, it sounded more like, "Mm-mhm-mh-mm!" but Dr Boldcastle was clearly an expert of Gag.

"Now now, Dr Boldcastle," said Dr Boldcastle kindly to the cupboard man. "You'll get your cheque... and look, you didn't even do any work for it! I'll cash it directly, and it'll go straight to your account."

The cupboard man, who was indeed the real Dr Boldcastle, gave the interloper a furious look.

"It is the signature that I am interested in," continued the interloper, ignoring the muffled bubbling of hatred from the gagged doctor. "Which is why, when I took the cheque from the dear diddy vampiress, I took the precaution of pinching the receipt underneath too." With a modest little gesture, the interloper waved the receipt like a flag. "Enjoy the cash, Dr Boldcastle. I hear it brings nothing but misery."

With that little moral falling from the hidden lips like a drop of acid onto a bare belly, the interloper made one last elegant bow and vaulted backwards out of the window.