Night Plague Chapter 4

Written by Omnitrix12

As agreed upon, they went to the Westenrut house the following day, both dressed in black for mourning, and did as they had planned. Miss Westenrut's lawyer had learned of the death and come at once, but as his schedule was rather full Professor Van Savage had persuaded him to accept some help with the papers and other property matters. The lawyer, knowing that the late lady had named Arthur her beneficiary, had deferred to the stag on all matters. Arthur, still in shock, had been only too happy to hand matters over to the professor. Van Savage, in turn, gladly accepted Nick's offer to help with the legal work.

"I'm afraid I rather overstated my case to the good lawyer," he confided in the fox. His ears hung low, his usually bold shoulders now bowed and showed their age, and his eyes looked like the eyes of one who has lost much sleep. "My expertise is much more in matters of medicine and of the peculiar than of lands, deeds, and paperwork."

Nick pricked his ears at this reference to 'the peculiar.' "What do you mean by 'peculiar'?" he asked.

The professor waved a paw dismissively, but Nick could see that he was ill at ease, as one who has said more than he meant to say. "It's a fancy of my youth, really; nothing to interest you. Cases of… oh, mammals disappearing from one place and arriving in another without knowing how they got there, for example, or of artifacts found in strata outside their acknowledged time."

The effort to cover up the former with the latter caught Nick's attention. "Is that why you wanted to look at my journal?"

Looking rather abashed, the professor nodded. "One reason, yes. As I said, I would like to put my mind at your service, if I may. Your case interests me, and I feel the need now more than ever to be useful."

On the one paw, Nick didn't exactly like the idea of being a curiosity to someone he barely knew. Then again, if Van Savage wanted to help, why say no? He could, at least, appreciate mammals who felt the need to do so. "You'll get along fine with Judy," he remarked. Then, growing a little more serious, he added, "Just let me know if you think I might be…"

Van Savage met his gaze with that peculiar arresting look of his. "Friend Nicholas, as I said before, I am quite persuaded that you are not mad."

Somehow the way he said it was both comforting and terrifying – and not just because the dreams Nick had been having, if not madness themselves, seemed enough to drive someone insane if rooted in truth.

"How do you know?" he asked. "You haven't looked at my journal yet."

Van Savage shook his head. "Do you think I – a rabbit in my gray years – would be sitting here with a fox in his prime if I thought there was a hint of madness about him?" Then, seeing that this remark had struck a rather sore point, he added, "Forgive me, friend; I should not have said that. Yet in my view one needs only to listen to you and talk with you to see that you are not mad – and besides, if you are mad then I think I must be as well, so we might as well both be mad together."

Nick scrunched down one eyebrow. "That really doesn't make much sense," he admitted.

The rabbit shook his head. "I have read many things that do not make sense, and yet which after much thought I can only accept to be true. Shakespaw spoke the truth: there are stranger things in Heaven and Earth than we can think of."

Nick didn't know what to make of it, really, but a half-hour later he noticed that his chair had moved unnoticed at least a foot away from Van Savage.

In another room, Judy was doing her best to comfort Arthur. It was a strange thing that such a small creature as her should be trying to console one so much larger, but it did seem to be having some effect. Males, curiously, will often be more vulnerable before females than in the company of their own sex, and Lord Goredalming – who might have forced himself to look strong elsewhere – was weeping as only the bereaved can do.

Judy, dismissing usual propriety, had seated herself on the arm of the high-backed chair in which her brother-in-law sat, and had a hold on one of his arms to remind him of her presence. Her own chest felt hollow as she watched him grieve, but strangely it helped her to know that at least she could be some use; some help.

"She talked about you all the time, you know," said Arthur at one point when his sobs had abated a little.

Wiping away her tears, Judy managed to look up. "She talked about you a lot too," she said, half-choking. "Even before you were engaged."

Arthur bit his lip. "I just can't believe she's gone."

Judy nodded. She couldn't believe it herself; not only her natural family, but now all of her adopted family as well were dead. Yet though her loss was arguably greater, she would think afterward – for one rarely puts their feelings together all in one go – that she was not so bereaved as Arthur. She had had Lucy and her mother nearly her whole childhood, and now though some might call her twice-orphaned she at least had a husband, and her mother and sister had lived long enough to wish them well. Arthur had not had Lucy for such a long time, or as close though she had been his wife, and now… now she was lost to him until he too went back to the dust. This, and the recent death of his father as well, could hardly not be expected to break a man, however, strong and noble.

"Do you think she's missing us now?" asked Arthur, shaking slightly. "Up with the angels?"

It wasn't an easy question; that was certain. Judy had been taught that the joy was so complete in Heaven that all earthly loss and sorrow were as nothing, but now she wasn't sure what to think. She was certain, at least, that Lucy must remember Arthur; how could a woman forget her husband? Yet how could she remember and not miss him? For that matter, even if the answer were clear, how could she put that before him?

"I'm sure someone's comforting her," she offered weakly. Then she too dissolved in sorrow.

It was some time before the two parties met again. Lord Goredalming thanked the sirs for their time and pains, and said that if it was all the same he would be going back to his estate.

"Of course," Van Savage affirmed, speaking for the whole of the group. "You have suffered much, Lord Goredalming, and you must have rest. Go home, and I shall lock up when all leave."

Wearily, he nodded his thanks and departed.

Now, with just Nick and the professor, Judy found herself at a stand. The question of how Lucy had lost so much blood – and that without drenching the sheets in scarlet – had not been forgotten by her, and she ached to know if somehow he might shed some light on the matter. Yet Nick's sleep the past night had been troubled, and he had murmured in his sleep of blood.

I can't bring this up around him, she thought to herself, wracking her brain for an excuse to get the two males apart.

At last she decided on a tack which, though it might be argued as manipulation, would get her the audience she desired. "Professor," she interrupted, "are you alright?"

Van Savage looked up, and for perhaps the first time since she had known him he really did look his age. Old lines had deepened, and new ones seemed to have appeared overnight. Behind his spectacles, his eyes had a strange, far-away look in them like one who had not slept in ages. The sight worried her so much that she forgot momentarily about her strange question.

"I am… well enough," he admitted, though everyone in the room knew it for a lie.

Judy glanced over to Nick, who nodded in understanding and assent. With a decisive air, Judy touched the professor's forearm.

"Come with me," she urged.

After looking up at her face, Van Savage ran a paw back over his brow. "I was getting cross-eyed anyway," he admitted, gathering some books and papers together into a bag. "Friend Nicholas, by your permission?"

Nick regarded him for a moment and then nodded his assent.

Van Savage moved to a door leading into a small antechamber, bowed slightly to admit Judy, and closed the door only most of the way after following her through. Perhaps it was her own feminine influence that did it, but when he turned to her he looked even worse than before. Judy had meant to use this occasion to draw from him some answer to Lucy's fate, but she felt her resolve breaking away. It would be sheer brutality to press him for information at this time.

She had underestimated him, for he broached the matter himself.

"You have questions, don't you?" he asked.

Her ears dropped. She wanted to say it wasn't that important, but how could she say that about the cause of her sister's death?

"You may ask," he pressed. "Believe me, you do me more good now by giving me reason to press the fight than you can think."

She suspected he was trying to feign courage, but something in his manner compelled her to ask anyway. "Where did the blood go?"

This question seemed to trouble Van Savage, but he mustered himself and answered. "I was hoping you wouldn't ask, but I expected that you would." He folded his paws and sat. "There are animals in this world which feed on blood. Certain kinds of bat, for instance."

Judy flinched at this claim, but then shook her head. "That doesn't make sense. How could a bat drain Lucy?" She had met a very large bat once, called a flying fox, but he was a strict frugivore and claimed with pride that no bat was larger than he. Besides, the bats which fed on blood were strictly tropical. They wouldn't survive any appreciable time in Zootopia's cold, damp climate outside of the enclosed Rainforest District.

"More than one might," Van Savage replied. Then, hastily, he added, "I must confess this is incomplete; speculation at this point. There is much to be learned, which is why I study her papers. If she became prey to such a determined and unnatural assault, she may yield a clue to other victims."

The thought of other mammals dying like Lucy sent a shock of fear through Judy. In other does that might have paralyzed, but in her it tempered. "Why don't you let me take a look at her diaries?" she suggested. "I knew her; maybe I'll spot something you wouldn't." It occurred to her only after she said this that it would also take the matter off his paws for a while, and maybe give him some time to recover.

Van Savage brightened visibly at this idea and nodded gladly. "Ah! Yes, that would do excellently. And it will leave me free to look through the newspapers for similar-"

She lifted a paw. "Professor, stop. Just… stop." She paused, not sure for a moment just what to say next. "I know you cared about Lucy. Any good doctor would. But let someone else step in for a while, okay?"

"You are hurting as well," he protested, "and you are young. Newly married. You should be-"

"I won't be able to enjoy myself if other mammals are in danger," she insisted. "You've been running yourself ragged. Let me help."

He sighed. "I knew I shouldn't have told you," he admitted, but with a smile. "Very well. You read, and I shall… I shall rest a while."

Judy nodded, satisfied that she had made her case. On her way out of the room, however, she paused with her paw on the handle and then shut the door.

"I guess it was a waste bringing Nick's journal now that this has come up."

Van Savage's whiskers twitched thoughtfully. "No, if you have it then let me see it. Best that I try something. I am doctor, not hunter or constable, and if you will take some of my worries on yourself then I must give service in kind."

Judy smiled just a little. "I'll hand it off before we leave," she promised.

It wasn't long after Judy's talk with the professor that Nick opted to head out. He still had his day job to consider, and it wouldn't have felt right to charge Arthur for the help they were providing. Word from Mr. Clawkins had come in about another client seeking to have some business arranged. They decided, however, as they had spent so much time pent up already, to visit an eatery on their way to Nick's firm before Judy took the carriage home. Yet as they were crossing a park to a cluster of several such businesses, Judy jumped as Nick's paw suddenly clenched on her arm.

"Ow!" she cried, jerking away as his claws pierced fabric and flesh, drawing blood. She tried at once to pry him loose, but when she looked up at him, she almost forgot the pain.

Nick was staring across the park with the wide, glassy gaze of one who had (as they say) seen a ghost. Judy followed his gaze, but it took her a moment to spot the object of his transfixed fascination. It was a tall feline figure, thoroughly unremarkable in his dress, looking attentively at a cluster of female antelope. He looked like a black jaguar or leopard, but surely if so then he must have been a dock worker or something manual from his childhood. She surmised this because of the extraordinary strength of his build; more like a tiger or even a lion than a jaguar or leopard.

A black tiger! The thought shot through Judy's mind like a flash of lightning, and she whipped her gaze up to Nick. "Nick," she whispered, not sure why she whispered, "is that…?"

"It's him," he gasped in petrified horror. "It's him, but… no, it's not possible."

"Why?" pressed Judy. "What's not possi-"

"Don't let him see us!" hissed the fox, suddenly catching hold of her and darting across the square as quickly as he could go. She tried to bring him to a halt, but half-heartedly out of confusion and the fear that digging in her heels would only get them scraped raw on the cobblestones. As soon as they gained the corner of a building, Nick yanked her out of sight and peered back around the corner like a wanted criminal.

Nursing her scratched arm for a moment, Judy then laid a paw on his arm. "Nick, what's going on with you? Who was that tiger?"

Nick seemed thoroughly intent on staring out into the square, where the elusive feline was now strolling in the opposite direction. "It is him," he panted to himself, "but… that's not possible. He's grown young."

Judy caught Nick by the front of his shirt and, with anxious resolve, yanked him around to face her. "Nick," she pressed, "who is it?"

His face was so pale that his very fur seemed to turn white. He seemed to be struggling to form his answer, as if his mouth and his brain were somehow disconnected like one who had had a stroke. When at last he did manage to answer, it was only one word and bore little meaning to Judy.

"Dracula."

"Nick, we need to talk with the professor," Judy insisted later. Nick, still shaken over the strange sighting, had opted to pick up his work and take it home with them, and to eschew eating publicly altogether. Judy had prepared something for both of them to eat, and found Nick in his study as nervous as a fish at a shark convention.

"Nick, what is going on?" she pressed. "I've never seen you like this; not even when you wake up from your nightmares."

He shook his head. His ears were back, and he looked as though if the chair allowed it he would have his tail between his legs. "I wish to goodness I would," he answered. "Feels like I've woken up into a nightmare."

She put the food in front of him. "Who was that tiger anyway? You mentioned a Dracula before, I think."

At that Nick nodded. "Yeah, yeah, let's see. He was the guy I was supposed to meet on my trip to…"

Then he seemed to freeze, staring at the wall with an expression of absolute horror.

"What is it?" asked Judy, putting her ears back.

His lower jaw trembled as with a violent shiver. "I did it," he whispered hoarsely. "I sold him the house. I brought that monster here!"

"Monster?" asked Judy. "What kind of…?"

Then she stopped. It was so obvious she couldn't believe she hadn't thought of it before.

This 'Dracula,' whoever he was, was the reason Nick couldn't remember most of his business trip – which meant her only chance of getting any answers was to get the journal she had left with Professor Van Savage.

Alas, Nick knew her all too well. "Carrots, don't you dare go looking for answers on this one."

"Now Nick-!"

"I mean it, Judy," he insisted, reverting to her real name in his earnestness. He looked her dead in the face, and his eyes had the look of someone who had been in a war; a really bad one. "This guy is Evil, with a capital E. I don't remember a lot about him, but I remember that. You need to stay away from him."

"What about him staying away from us?" she pressed. "If you got him here, he has to know you're here too."

That threw things in a different light. Contending with the dreams of eyes, teeth, and blood had been one thing, and bad enough at that, but the prospect of the whole thing putting Judy in danger too…

Finally he nodded. "Alright. Let's get my journal back from Van Savage."

This proved to be harder than they thought.

"Are you sure you haven't heard from him?" Judy asked Doctor Seward three days later.

Seward nodded. "I've been busy with my work, but I left a letter at the inn where he went and so far he hasn't answered."

Nick frowned, putting his ears back. "That's pretty fishy, actually. Why would he just up and disappear on us with my journal?"

"What was in the journal?"

Nick shrugged, hiding his unease. "Just a… a record of a business trip," he offered weakly. The last thing he wanted was to explain something as freaky as that half-remembered ordeal to someone who specialized in lunatics.

Judy clasped her paws. "Listen," she urged, "we need to get hold of Van Savage. When was the last time you saw him?"

"By the sound of it, only a few hours after you did," was the answer. "He came by to ask me some questions about Romfield, but I had to break from our talk to go attend to one of the patients. When I came back he was gone, and an article had been cut from the newspaper."

"The newspaper?" asked Judy.

Seward nodded. "Yes. I happened to look into it later on, but it was something about children wandering off at night and injuring themselves, blaming it on 'The Bloofer Lady.'"

Nick raised an eyebrow. "Sounds more like a game for grown-ups," he admitted.

Judy kicked him out of the doctor's view.

"Ow. How were they blaming it on a beautiful lady?"

Doctor Seward shrugged. "I must confess I don't pay much mind to children's fancies, but… yes, there were cases of youngsters wandering off in the evenings. Those who weren't back by dark would be found in the morning, tired and very weak, saying they'd been led away by a 'Bloofer Lady.' Undoubtedly the first one thought it up and others followed the first one's idea. Now that it's in the news I'm sure it will only spread."

Nick and Judy looked at one another. It did sound like an odd thing for Van Savage to chase off after, especially at such a time.

Was it possible that Van Savage was really off to bedlam?

For a full week nothing happened, save that Judy grew worried and Nick grew jumpy. He hardly ever walked anywhere, always taking cabs and always torn between watching anxiously and hiding furtively. Judy had never seen him like this, and she hated it with every fiber of her being. She also hated that Nick's fears of whatever Dracula might do yet or had done already were starting to effect her as well. She found herself going out less and looking over her shoulder when she did venture from home.

Nick's story seeped out of him by bits and pieces, jumbled and half-remembered. He spoke of long, late-night talks, of staying in a castle with only the old black tiger and three… three somethings. He always shuddered at the mention of them and called them devils or witches. Then he remembered running; running around trying door after door and finding them locked or leading to empty rooms with no way out. It all sounded like nightmares, and he went so far as to say that it only seemed half-real even to him.

"I'm starting to wonder what's real and what's not myself," Judy admitted when this unfortunate difficulty arose.

It was not too long after that a knock came at the door, hailing a roebuck in a tidy postal uniform.

"Am I addressing Mrs. Wilde?" asked the messenger when Judy opened the door.

"Yes, that's me," she replied.

Bending a little at the knees and waist to meet her height, he extended an envelope. "Telegraph for you and Mr. Wilde. I was instructed to ask that you open it at once. Good day." With that he saluted and left.

Nick came over, full of curiosity, as Judy opened the envelope.

"Madam Judy and Friend Nicholas."

"Van Savage!" Nick exclaimed.

Judy held up a paw. "Please come to Westenrut house tonight at six. Be prepared for cold and damp. Rest well this afternoon, sleep if possible. Bring garlic or wild roses. Van Savage."

They regarded the message with total befuddlement. "Be prepared for cold and damp?" asked Judy. "What's he talking about? That house has to be the driest and warmest on that whole side of London."

Nick scratched his head too. "Planning a night hike?" he ventured. "At this point I'm not sure if anything would surprise me coming from him." Taking the telegram and staring at it, he added, "The question is, do we go or not?"

"We have to," Judy pointed out, though it felt uncomfortably like giving in to blackmail. "He's got your journal, remember?"

That was true, and though Nick wasn't sure he wanted to know what had happened, it was becoming clear he had no choice but to uncover the truth. Dracula's presence in London, and the strange mystery of his replenished youth, left no room for staying oblivious. Besides, though he hated to think ill of Van Savage after the professor did so much for Lucy, he wasn't sure he trusted any paws not bearing the name Wilde with that book anymore.

"I guess we'd better try to get some sleep, then," he assented.

Nick and Judy found they were not the only ones to have been summoned. When they arrived at the Westenrut house, they found a large coach waiting outside and the cab horse in one of the quieter sitting rooms warming by a fire. Still more significant was the company within, for around the table in the dining room sat not only Van Savage, as they had expected, but also Quincy and Doctor Seward.

"Professor," called Nick, trying not to betray his state of agitation.

"Ah, good," Van Savage greeted. "We are nearly all here, and…" he paused to check his watch, "nearly all on time."

Judy glanced around. "Are we expecting Arthur?" she asked.

The professor nodded. "Yes, Lord Goredalming received a summons as you did. I would not fault him for choosing not to come here, but my hotel lodgings would not accommodate us all. Ah, I think I hear him now."

One of the maids, to Judy's surprise, saw Arthur in. The wolf looked as if he had aged a decade since the last they saw of him, and regarded Van Savage distrustfully as he sat.

"Thank you for coming, your lordship," greeted Van Savage, rising to bow slightly.

Arthur seated himself and laid his paws on the table. "You said you had urgent business to discuss," he said, clearly wishing to get down to brass tacks with no delay.

"And so I do," answered Van Savage, folding his paws and looking around. He seemed grave, but resolute. "My friends, and you most of all Lord Goredalming, I have learned of a… a duty, which sits before us for the sake of dear Lucy."

Nick frowned in confusion. "What do you mean?" he asked, putting back his ears. "She's dead, right? What can we do for her now?"

Van Savage's voice was low, and trembled with what they all took for righteous indignation – but which was inside just as much terror as anything else.

"So she is, and we must avenge her." He paused as if to gauge their responses before continuing. "I tell you all now that her death was no mere sickness; no twist of fate, but a succession of deliberate and vile acts, each more merciless than the last. I suspected it before, but dared not speak of my theories until I had proof, lest the murderer escape from justice. Yet I tell you now that the one who did it walks abroad still, and every night poor Lucy's body is subject to a desecration fouler than even the cannibals of distant jungles could conjure."

Arthur sprang to his feet. "What?!" he demanded, fists clenched and eyes ablaze. "Who would do this? Where is he?!"

Judy quickly seized on a crucial detail and looked hard at Van Savage. "How do you know all this?" she asked.

He gave her an approving look. "Well asked, Madam Judy. I know because I have seen it. As I say, I had suspicions, bits of which are known to some of you. Last night I went to the church yard to see for certain. John went with me, and though I swore him to secrecy then I promise that after tonight he may tell all to as many of you as will hear him. What we discovered proved my worst thoughts, though I wish in God's name it had not. Now I must take into my confidence as many of you as are willing, and we must go again to the church yard this night to face what we shall find there."

It surprised no one that Arthur was the first to speak. "I'll go to the pit of Hell if I have to to stop the beast doing it," he said with full feeling.

Van Savage's eyes flashed. "Be careful, Lord Goredalming. I can't say for certain that such a thing will not be demanded of you before this matter is over."

"Well I'll go too," put in Quincy. "I loved her myself, and I'd be a sorry excuse of a man for askin' what I did of her and then turnin' away now."

Van Savage turned to Doctor Seward. "John," he said, "I know you are shaken already by what you have seen, but will you come this night also, as you are my friend?"

The doctor said nothing, but nodded gravely.

"I'll go too," Judy volunteered.

Van Savage was surprised. "Madam Judy," he objected, "with all due respect, I don't think you should-"

"I knew Lucy better than anyone here," she insisted, drawing her brows low. "If this concerns her, then I'm in."

Silence reigned for a moment, and then Van Savage nodded slowly. "I should not be surprised, I suppose," he acknowledged. "And moreover, this concerns not only her but also your husband."

All eyes turned to Nick, who blinked in confusion. "Uh, what now?"

"Mister Wilde, I promised not to speak of how this is so, but some knowledge you gave me provided a vital link in the chain of deductions which drew me to that church yard last night. If you come with us, you will do much good before this time tomorrow."