Echoes in My Mind
Chapter 3: Visitor
Ratigan continued to plague my dreams as the investigation continued. They didn't occur every day, but they were frequent, and almost exactly the same every time, with Ratigan stealing into my room in the dead of night and feasting on my blood. I knew it was only my weary mind conjuring up these images because of the horrors of the recent murders, and I was too embarrassed to tell anyone, especially Basil. He had more than enough on his plate already, and I didn't want to distract him from the case at hand.
On top of things, I began to grow ill, suffering from flu-like symptoms. My strength seemed to be drained from me, I could hardly eat without getting sick, and my very bones ached. I had grown so weak that Dr. Dawson put me on bed rest for a while, and I was unable to accompany him and Basil on their investigations. Basil was very concerned, but I managed a small smile and assured him that I would be fit as a fiddle in no time, and urged him not to worry so that he could focus on his investigation.
However, the murders and kidnappings continued, filling everyone with fear and horror. Basil was doing all he could; interviewing families of the victims, investigating each crime scene with meticulous care, researching and performing experiments to try to find a method in which the blood could have been drained from the murder victims. But nothing seemed to work.
Sometimes Basil would lock himself in his room or sit staring at the fire for hours, lost deep in thought, trying to pierce the veil shrouding this mystery. He wouldn't rest until the monster was stopped, not even wasting time on food or sleep. The dark circles under his eyes grew more pronounced, and we could only convince him to eat a bite or two at a time of Mrs. Judson's cheese crumpets so that he didn't starve to death. He always devoted himself fully to the case, stopping at nothing until it was seen through to the end. But I was afraid such dedication would someday be the death of him.
…
Confound it! I thought, grinding my teeth in frustration as Dawson and I shifted through the litter of newspaper clippings and police reports on the floor around us, trying to find some clue, the tiniest detail, no matter how insignificant it may seem, to help in our fight against this villain. My blood boiled to think that this fiend who preyed upon the helpless and innocent still roamed free in the streets.
As a knock sounded on the door, Dawson's eyes met mine, and I could see from his expression that he expected the Inspector to come in with news of another crime. Yet it had been four quiet knocks, not the usual brisk three knocks characteristic to the Inspector, so I hastily rose up and opened the door to the visitor.
"Good evening, sir," said the stranger, a slight tipping his hat politely. "Is this the residence of Basil of Baker Street?"
"It is, and I am he," I replied with a nod. "How may be of service?"
"Actually, I was thinking that I might be of some service to you," the mouse replied. "My name is Alexander Janssen, and I have information regarding your latest case."
My ears pricked up at that statement, a thrill running through my body at the possibility of a fresh trail in the case, but I remained on my guard, especially as I eyed the gun by his side under his long tattered brown overcoat. I inclined my head and stepped aside cautiously, inviting him in. As Dawson arose to greet him, I took the opportunity to examine him more closely. He was an odd sight standing in the midst of our sitting room: tall, broad shoulders, athletic build, brown fur, a small mustache, messy dark brown hair sticking out from beneath his hat. He had been in fierce fight in the past judging from the three scars down the left side of his face and the jagged tears in both ears. Yet despite his rough appearance, he had a calm, soft spoken voice, and was very well mannered.
Janssen was just about to take the offered seat in Dawson's green chair when he stiffened suddenly, sniffing the air. "Is there a woman in this house?" he asked urgently.
I felt my blood run cold. Mrs. Judson was away visiting her sister, but Amber was upstairs in her room resting from her sickness. "Why?" I demanded, giving Dawson a warning glance.
"She is in terrible danger," Janssen whispered.
I nodded to Dawson, who quickly whipped out his service revolver from his pocket and pointed it at Janssen. The mouse held up his hands in defense. "No, no, no, it's not me… someone else is here!" he hissed.
"Dawson, keep him covered," I instructed, rushing to the side table drawer and retrieving another revolver. I cautiously ascended the stairs and crept down the hallway, pausing at Amber's room. I put my ear to the wood, but could hear nothing inside. I tried the handle, which to my horror was locked. Without hesitation, I took several steps back and used all my strength to kick the door in, causing it to slam open with a bang. I rushed inside, my gun raised, then froze in shock as my eyes fell upon the bed.
Her empty bed.
Recovering from the initial shock, I rushed to the open window and could make out her bare footprints in the dirt. But before I could rush outside to examine them more closely, Dawson entered the room, keeping a tight grip on Janssen with his gun prodding the mouse's back, who was now relieved of his own weapon. "What in heaven's name…?" Dawson asked, taking in the scene.
"She's gone," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. The room seemed to spin and I leaned against the wall for support, running my hand through my hair. My heart pounding frantically, a cold dread taking hold of me as the realization hit that she had been taken from me… Again.
"The devil has taken another one," Janssen hissed in frustration.
"Who?" I growled in anger, springing on the mouse and pinning him to the wall. "Who has taken her?"
I felt Dawson's steadying hand on my shoulder. "If you know something," he said to Janssen, "I suggest you explain now."
Janssen nodded solemnly, and I released him, though my hand was still tight on my gun.
"Before I begin," said Janssen, "I want you both to promise to listen to me completely. What I am about to tell you will be difficult to hear, and in all likelihood, you will not believe me. But I ask that you'll allow me finish my entire statement, and then you may do as you see fit."
I glanced at Dawson, who shared my caution and skepticism. Yet with Amber missing, I knew that time was of the essence, and I was willing to at least hear what the mouse had to say if it could help her in any way.
Janssen took a deep breath and sighed wearily. "I'm afraid your friend has been taken by the most sinister and vile of creatures to ever walk upon the earth. Were there footprints outside the window?"
"Yes," I replied.
"Only one set?"
I took a candle from the nightstand and held it out the window to examine the ground. "Yes," I repeated. "Only hers."
"She wasn't dragged out?" Dawson asked. "Why on earth would she climb out the window?" Dawson asked.
"Because she had no control of her actions," Janssen answered.
Dawson and I looked to him in confusion. "What do you mean, that she was hypnotized?" Dawson asked.
"In a way, yes. That is the method in which he takes his victims. He spends time with them, becoming familiar with their mind, and when he has a sufficient hold on them, compels them to come to him. That way he does not leave any clues behind."
"How could he have spent time with her?" Dawson asked. "She has been ill for two weeks now, and has not left the house…"
I clutched my fists in anger. "No one could have been here without our knowledge…"
"But you must remember, gentleman, that this is no ordinary villain we are dealing with," said Janssen.
"Then what exactly are we dealing with?" I demanded impatiently.
Janssen paused for a moment, choosing his words carefully. However, nothing could have prepared me for his answer.
"Nosferatu."
My first reaction was one of utter astonishment. "I-I'm sorry, I'm not sure I heard you correctly…"
"Nosferatu," Janssen repeated. "The undead, the creatures of the night… Vampire."
When I managed to find my voice, I growled, "Get out."
"Mr. Basil, I beg you to reconsider-"
"I said get out."
"Basil," Dawson interjected gently, "he could help us-"
"And he could lead us on a wild goose chase after a creature of fantasy!" I shouted. "Amber is gone… gone, Dawson! I do not have time for such games!"
Janssen waited patiently while I vented my frustrations. "I understand," he responded quietly at length. "I am a stranger to you, and the notion of such a creature's existence is a hard thing for you to believe. But you must trust me, gentleman. I know my word doesn't have much meaning to you right now, but I have seen the creatures with my own eyes." His face fell, and he buried his hands deep in his pockets. "T-They took Maria… my fiancé," he admitted quietly. "She and I were taking a walk through town. We were to be married within the week, and talked of our plans for the future… We lost track of time, and as it was growing dark, we took a shortcut through a cemetery. Countless times have I wished I could go back and change that decision, all in vain." He cleared his throat, doing his best to master his emotions. "Then we were attacked. The thing struck so swiftly and suddenly, we scarcely had time to react. The force knocked us both to the ground, and when I recovered I looked up to see Maria struggling in the grip of a male mouse, with gray fur and long black hair and dressed all in black. To my horror, he put his lips to her neck, and… and bit her. I sprang on the villain, and still bare the results of that fight," he said, indicating the scars on his face. "He seemed to have the strength of twenty mice, and I was clearly no match for him. He nearly destroyed me. But as I lay on the ground, he left, thinking I was dead, taking Maria with him.
"Five years I've searched for her. Five years wondering if she is even alive. Though I nearly lost my life that night, I vowed I would not rest until I had brought justice to the demon that stole her from me."
We stood in silence for what seemed like an eternity as his words sank in. Despite his sincerity, I still had a difficult time believing his story. Here this stranger had just walked in claiming to have information about the culprit, and was now blaming the crimes on a creature of fiction. Such a being simply could not exist… could it?
"I'm… terribly sorry for your loss," I finally said at length. "But do you have evidence of the existence of such creatures?"
"The murders and kidnappings are evidence enough," Janssen said. "This is not the first time it has happened, and is sure to not be the last. Unless we can stop them."
"And you just expect us to trust you?"
"No," he replied honestly. "But I beg you to try… for Miss Amber's sake."
Author's Note: Uh oh, looks like Amber is missing again... poor girl is just a magnet for trouble, isn't she? And the introduction of a new OC, Alexander Janssen (check out my deviantART gallery for pictures of them and other characters if you'd like a better idea of what they look like. My name on there is ALS123). He's based a little bit on Bram Stoker's famous Abraham Van Helsing, though I tried to give him his own unique personality. So what do you guys think? Should they trust him? Either way, you'll learn more about him as the story progresses
So at least now we have an idea of who is committing all these crimes. But you know, it could be more than one person... which one do you think took Amber?
Anyway, I'm sure there are some mistakes, because it's late at night and I've been working on this for most of the day, so if there are, I'll correct them later. Hope you enjoy it :)