The Vampire as Metaphor...from the (Semi) Complete Works of William Soames Walthrop...
PG 13
Summary: A lost work of one William Soames Walthrop (...aka Spike) as it was delivered at one of Cicely Addams' house parties, shortly before Will's demise. See the reference to it in "Drusilla"...
Disclaimer: All BTVS characters remain the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and all other owner/creators of the Buffy the Vampire Slayer series...
Contributions to the recovery of the lost works of England's third worst poet are always welcomed...
Part XXIX…
Marie DeRussell's approach, announced by the slightest and elegant whiff of her perfume, caused the worried…
Amazingly sincerely on our part, Olive thought…
…Party clustered about Count "De la Cule"'s sleeping compartment, including a few additional passengers from the car, to glance over.
Damn. The conductor fumed. Shoulda locked that door… "Here, miss! Stay where you are!"
"I just heard…How is Mrs. Potter?" Marie, anxiously, pausing. Taking no notice of Vladimir or Olive, Olive thankfully noted.
Fine…The Dracule have a light touch…Kudos, Vladimir...She sighed inwardly.
"The lady's not too well…" Detective Harris noted. "Her husband and the doctor and my Ana are with her."
"Go back and call to the porter to lock that door, would you, Miss? I don't want no more folks coming in here…" the conductor called as he headed down to the other door at the front end. "You'll have to stay now, I'm afraid."
"Of course…" Marie hurried back, calling through the door… "Porter?! The conductor wants you to lock this door. Yes! We're fine." She turned back and came down to the group… "Can I do anything? I've done some…" When? The War, perhaps? Marie pondered an instant…Well, somewhere in my life… "...Nursing."
"It's a bit crowded in there now, my dear. Good of you to ask though." Vladimir smiled. "The Count de la Cule, at your service." He bowed slightly. "And this is my secretary, Miss Olivia Giles."
"Ma'am." Olive nodded.
Just don't fall at Vladimir's feet or ask him if you should kill anyone, please?
"Wainswright, Oliver P…" Wainswright nodded to Marie who bowed head in return with smile.
Hmmn…Olive, a bit…Well…I'll have Vladimir blight any moves along that line if needs be.
Still, no need not to stake a claim in good ole human fashion…
"Oliver…" she cooed. "Perhaps you could get us some water or lemonade from the dining car, if it's not an imposition? It's a bit warm in here and probably best we not get overheated."
"Glad to, Miss Giles." He tipped hat. "That all right, conductor? We've all been in the dining car as it is."
"No, lets try to do this right…Just call the porter at the door and tell him I said to bring some and just put it out the door. Lets not let this git any worse." The conductor noted, sighing.
"We suspect it may be typhoid…" Olive noted to Miss DeRussell.
"Ah…I see." Nod. "Then yes, we'd best keep in here till we know it won't be spread."
"Pardons, Miss…" Wainswright slipped carefully by her.
Hmmn…Not much muscle in that padding…Marie thought as Gordon's padding pressed against her side just for an instant.
Well, no wish to be unkind…He seems a kind gentleman.
"Hey, Porter! Bring some water and lemonade down to the door, willya?" Wainswright called from the door. "No…" he replied to a muffled question. "Jest push it through when you got it…"
"Ok…" the conductor had returned after locking his end's door and explaining the situation to another porter on the opposite side.
"We're set here for the mo…Sorry folks, but we'll want to know about this as to whether it's catchin' before you can go off and about." He nodded.
"It's for the best, my good friend. No need to explain, we all understand." Vladimir, graciously.
"Certainly…" Marie nodded.
The doctor and Potter emerged from the compartment…
"Dr. Potter?" Marie addressed him. "How is your wife?"
"Hello, Miss De Russell…" Potter nodded. "Well as can be expected. I'm sorry to see you here, though…No offense but we're in a bit of quarantine."
"Quite all right…Is it the typhoid?" Marie, carefully lowering voice so as not to possibly frighten Mrs. Potter.
"We think so…" Peter sighed. "But she's doing reasonably well."
Hmmn…The elderly doc frowned…Just who is the physician here?
"Actually, I've the least to fear…" Marie smiled wanly. "I've had the typhoid."
Though exactly when and where…? She pondered. Well, no matter…
"Indeed. I have as well…" Potter noted. "Was quite a bout…" glance back…
"Has she much fever?" Marie asked.
"About 101 a moment ago…We have some ice on hand and wet cloths."
"I'm sure she'll recover. She seems a strong and healthy young woman." Marie, sympathetic pat of arm.
"Yes, my friend." Vladimir agreed. "She's sure to recover…It's just unfortunate she became ill here on the train."
Right…Olive repressed urge to roll eyes.
American hospitals being so advanced…
I ought to know what sort of charnel houses they are…I've toured many supposed to be the best, during my time here. Generally for feeding, of course, but…Tetanus and typhoid and diphtheria with pneumonia were the menaces, not me.
For most of my victims I was an angel of mercy, really…
"Yes, I hope so…" Potter nodded.
"Doctor…Potter?" Ana put her head out. "She wants to see you…"
Ah…He sighed a bit, a hair relieved.
Perhaps not so bad as all that…Dodge for a conference. Very clever, if a bit hard on the others. Though, no...That was no fake fever... He went in, hurriedly, Ana emerging.
"Miss Jenkins?" Marie asked, gently. "Is she very bad?"
"Burning…The ice helped a little but if that fever don't break." Ana sighed.
"What about you? You have had the typhoid yourself?" Marie, anxiously.
"Yeah, as a kid…Just made it. It's ok, I'm fine. Alex?! She'll need more ice soon."
"I've had the fever as well…" Marie noted. "I'll be happy to trade shifts with you to nurse her."
"Thanks." Ana nodded. "I'm good for now but later, sure…I think this'll a long haul…If she makes it."
If?…Olive, Vladimir…Utterly honest consternation.
"Should I?" Olive hissed to Vladimir. "Best not…She might detect you at such close quarters." He whispered back. "No, no…" he raised voice. "You should rest yourself, Miss Giles. Not having had typhoid, you're at risk."
"Thank you, sir, but I'm fine." She smiled. "Just let me know if you feel like a bit of work…" she strolled back to where Wainswright had taken a seat in the coach section, to make a little room for the group back there, he noted to her with smile.
"Me being a rather hefty fellow…"
"I think a rather comforting presence, I'd say." She smiled warmly, taking seat by him.
"Are we going to be stuck in here?" a middle-aged woman seated in the next row looked back. "There's only the two sleepers here and no berths if we have to stay. My husband says they'll never let us off in Chicago till that girl's better and they're sure we're all clear. Seems so unfair…We're not sick and it's not our fault that woman took ill."
"I'm sure we can rough it in the seats here…" Olive noted, smiling. "You're welcome to the other sleeper as far as I'm concerned, ma'am."
Be a fine funeral bier for you, you whining bourgeoise bitch…
"Why sure…" Wainswright agreed. "We'll make out jest fine." He pulled up a book from his lap.
"My goodness, Oliver?" she eyed the book in his hand… "Is that 'Das Kapital'?"
"Yeah, read it when it came out in '67 but I thought I'd read it over during the ride…Some quite good stuff in there, though can't say as I agree with the whole idea."
"Really…I understood it to be quite radical…" wry look.
"Well…I'm a feller of many interests…And I like to have an open mind." he smiled.
"As do I…" she beamed.
…
Potter in the sleeper eyeing Elisabeth, now rather covered in ice, trembling…
No…I don't think this was a ruse to get me alone for a conference…
"Elisabeth…Beth…" he came over, kneeling by her. Taking hand…
Oh…My…God…He felt a crushing grip…Struggling to get his hand released…
"Peter…" she breathed. "Don't leave me…"
"No, I won't…" he nervously patted her, avoiding another death grip...
"I'm sor'…So sorry…"
"Not at all…Nothing to be sorry for Elisabeth…"
"Yes…It was so…Say, you can go on callin' me Beth, ya know. My ma called me that." She eyed him.
"Beth then…That's lovely." He smiled at her.
"Beth Potter…" she pronounced the name perfectly to his startle. "I like it. If I die, put it on my stone, willya?"
"You won't die, Beth." He insisted.
"We all die, Peter." She shrugged. "Sooner or later my number'll come up. Probably sooner."
"Not today." He eyed her. "We've too much to learn about each other. And I'm too intrigued on my end to forego that."
"Really?" she smiled faintly. "No…" she shook head. "You can't stay…It's not right. I shouldna done it. I don't got anyone left but…Your family…"
"We all die. And you'll take care of them if I can't." he eyed her.
"Stickin' me, huh?" she looked at him, shrugging smile. "Ok. Fine...But?"
"My mother, my sister, my little brother…"
"Three Potters three…" she grinned. "My family…"
"Your family…" he nodded. "And they need us both, so…Pull yourself together, Mrs. P."
"Brit pluck, eh?"
"That's right." He nodded firmly. "And American spirit. Your boys took Richmond I expect no less from their sister."
"Ok…Peter? I don't think I can talk much now…But if I make it…"
"No…When you make it." He told her, sternly.
"Well…When…" she nodded. "I'll tell you…"
"Well, then…You have to get better. I'm dying of anticipation."
"It'll be worth hearin'…" smile. "I hope. But for now…Keep that Book close. And if…"
"No one gets their hands on it till you say, Beth."
"Only if they know what's in there and they know…" she paused. "Who the Slayer is…"
"So…" he eyed her. "You're the Chosen One. I thought so."
She opened her eyes wide. "You little bastard…" wan smile. "You really did read that thing close."
"I took firsts in Greek and Latin at Cambridge…" he smiled. "Though I will admit, I only just tumbled to it reading it over this morning…"
"Not quite like findin' I'm a secret Vanderbilt, gone slummin'…But…" she coughed a bit.
"You need to rest, Beth. We'll talk later."
"Right. Don't go."
"Never…You're saddled with me now, Mrs. P."
"Good…But…Peter…?"
"I won't let the Book get away from me. On my life."
"Hell wid that…Keep it close but if anyone threatens ya whiles I'm indisposed…Or worse…Hand it over." She insisted.
"What?"
"The ones looking for it can't use without yours true…If you have to, give it up…Save yourself. If you love me…?"
"I love you. But…"
"That's yer weddin' vow, Potter. Don't worry, if I make it, we'll get it back. And if I don't…" she looked away. "There'll be another, always is. They know that, so they'll want it in any case. And she'll get it back. Always another…" smile.
"Not for me…" he frowned. "So pull yourself together."
"Right…" nod.
"Because they won't get it from me…Alive."
"Dang, Peter…" she frowned.
"So you'll have to make it, else my goose is cooked as you lot say." He grinned, patting her.
…
San Francisco…Kity Twitty's establishment…
Early am…Just dawn...
"Ah…" Nast, seated in armchair in the darkened main hall, all drapery closed, of course.
"Clarissa…" he greeted the descending figure who eyed him blankly.
"I sent your Mother off to bed but I wanted to stay up and see how things went. You seem…Remarkably well…Are you all right?"
"Yes…" she nodded… "Stepfather…" after a pause.
"Good, good…And still human…But I knew Gregor wouldn't violate my orders." He looked up the stairs.
"Where is Gregor, by the way?"
"He's sleeping…Should I go wake him?"
"In a moment…" Nast eyed her. "He doesn't seem to have done any damage…Good. After all, you will be our hostess by day and evening, given your poor Mother's 'illness'. Though she'll be able to greet her guests later in the evenings."
"Yes…" the lovely young woman nodded. "Mother told me. It's my life now…My place. The only one for me…School was to give me polish but the rest was just…Foolish dreaming. This is all I have, all I was made for. But it's safe, Mother made it for me to keep me safe. I'll be safe and secure here, all my life."
"Yes…I think your Mother is right. A beautiful creature like you needs a safe and gilded cage. Out in this terrible world, you'd never survive, a black rose, crushed and tossed aside. Here she and I will keep you safe…Until it's time for you to join us and to truly be one with Gregor. Your beloved."
"My beloved…" she nodded vaguely. "So handsome, so loving…So good…"
Hmmn…I think she'd better rest before we open. Recover some of that charming sparkle and joie de vivre she had when I first met the dear child on her return from school. Or at least avoid becoming completely delusional...
Hopefully she's not gone mad and this is just a bit of thrall repression…None of the "professional" ladies quite match her. As the hostess here, her beauty and poise could make this place legendary.
"Were you frightened last night, dear?" he asked kindly.
"No…Mother and you told me not to be…I wasn't…"
Gregor appeared on stairs, in his usual armor…Looking rather anxious in his way...
"Gregor, my boy. Clarissa was just telling me of your delightful evening together… Come down, my friend, join us. I must be off to rest for the day, soon and you'll be guarding the place with my dear girl here to deal with any inquisitive humans. Though of course, you are the last resort for those who refuse to take 'no' for an answer. Clarissa? You are up to dealing with anyone coming by…? I could ask one of the other girls if you're a bit…"
Worn…Hysterical…Mad beyond all hope…?
"I can deal with them, stepfather. Mother showed me how…" she gave a wan smile. "Good morning, how can I help you, sir? I'm afraid we're not open till after the first of the month, but you can leave your card, or a name with me? I'll see you're shown excellent service when you return. I'm Clarissa Twitty, daughter of the owner." gracious nod of head.
Gregor now by her side…
Rather almost protectively so, Nast noted.
Well, well…Romance blossoms…
"I see. Good, good."
"And I'm to see deliveries are left in the parlor...Call a few of the girls to store them..."
"Good...Yes...And uh, Gregor…Wasn't too…"?
Gregor, slight distressed look.
"Oh, not to suggest you were anything but a gentleman, my boy…" Nast raised a hand.
" l think... He was a bit afraid... Of hurting me." She noted, wanly.
"My Lord…" Kity had emerged from the stairway to the basement at the back of the large hall… "You must come to bed. It's after dawn."
"Just giving our happy couple my best, dear." Nast smiled as she came to him…Her large face a bit annoyed, glaring at Clarissa…
Don't look to me like she rocked Sir Gregor's world as ordered…
"Clarissa?! Did you let the nice man have his way?" she fumed. "I told you, girl!"
Dear…Nast hissed. "We discussed this…You need to show the girl a little of your old kindness and motherly concern. It's important to keep her reasonably sane before her transformation.
And you really will need to recover a bit of your human self for the girls and our customers…They'll be expecting the old, warm-hearted Kity. Well, the customers will…And the girls will need to feel as normal as possible despise their enthrallment. Dear… We want as few questions or suspicions as possible."
"Yes, Lord." Kity sighed. Attempting a kindly smile…
Hmmn...He eyed the rather more terrifying face...
"I wouldn't force it, my dear. You have been ill and the renovations are a bit of a gamble, despite your new partner's wealth…It's fine to be a bit on edge, all things considered." He noted. "Yes, that's a bit more natural…" he regarded her rather stressed yet somewhat reassuring look.
"She don't look banged up…" Kity noted. "Claire? Did you do as I tole you and try to please Mr. Gregor, Mr. Nast's…" she eyed Nast.
"Step son." Fond look to Gregor.
"Yes, ma…" Clarissa nodded.
Nast regarded the two before them...Gregor looking a tad sheepish.
"Is this true my boy?" Nash inquiringly. "You really didn't harm the girl, take her by force?"
Uh. Gregor, nervous slight squirm...
"Well, nothing to be embarrassed about..." Nast noted, kindly. "You're not the first to
We wanted to keep her undamaged, Eh Kity?"
"I guess..." the large vampiress shrugged.
"And it is a nice notion, to keep her undefiled until the mating ceremony after her transformation..."
"Just so she's not disobeying..." Kity frowned.
"I'm sure Clarissa would never disobey her mother and Mistress. Would you, Clarissa?" he addressed the wan girl.
"No, stepfather."
"She aint got much spunk left in her…Maybe we oughta train one of the girls to run the place." Kity noted.
Gregor, slight look of distress.
"No, give the girl her chance, Kity. " Nast urged. "She's a wonderous beauty, she just needs to recover a bit."
"From what?" Kity groused. "I only took some and she says Gregor here didn't hurt her." Shrug. "What did he do, girl?"
"Kity… A little kinder."
"Mother just wants to know you're all right. The first time's always a little rough." Kity tried, pasting a smile.
"It was fine. He just wanted…To stroke me some…" Clarissa noted. "I thought maybe he wasn't pleased with me but he…Told me…." Glance over to Gregor.
"I was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen." She finished.
"He did?" Nast stared at Gregor whose grey skin had turned slightly paler.
"He told you?"
"Not in words, stepfather…But I understood."
Kity rolling eyes now…Girl always was that sort…Romantic.
When I was still human, sure…I thought it sweet…I thought it would save her from the world. When she was all I cared about and I wanted only to keep her safe…When I turned to Miguelito Loveless because he promised me a world like that for her…After her father was killed.
But now…She needs to learn what the world is and where she fits…Nowhere but here, thanks to her father. And how lucky she is that Lord Heinrich might let her have what he gave me…Immortality.
Though the little piece will think herself better than me, still being young and all when she transforms…Bitter glare at the wan Clarissa, Gregor carefully eyeing her.
But I have Lord Heinrich…And she's got…Gregor. Satisfied gleam.
Though him being Heinrich's step son of sorts, I do hafta make allowances…And it is an honor to me and mine.