!Warning: M (16)-rated themes: Depiction of blood.
- XXVI -
Close To Her
A cold breeze had replaced the morning mist and grey clouds covered the faint winter sun, when Victor arrived at Dr Seward's. With swift steps he began ascending the stairs to the psychologist's practice, but to his surprise his way was soon blocked by a small crowd clustering around the entrance door on the second floor. All around him Frankenstein beheld worried faces and heard words of both anger and unease, spoken in agitated whispers.
"I had an appointment two hours ago, and there is still no-one opening!"
"Seward is not at her flat either..."
"Yesterday evening I heard noises, yelling of some sort."
"Wasn't there also a shot? Thought it came from the street, but maybe..."
"We should call the police, shouldn't we?"
Victor's eyes widened at that, and, worried himself now, he tried to meander his way through the throng and approach the entrance. He was, however, unable to reach his destination, for closest to the door there stood a burly young man, a head taller than everyone else, hammering his fist against the solid wood in a nervous rhythm.
"Mary?! Are you in there?! Dammit, Mary!"
Frankenstein did not know whom exactly this hulk was looking for, but since nobody seemed to have the key to the office, his muscles might prove useful.
"Excuse me, Sirs, Madams!" Victor raised his voice in an attempt to address everyone in the corridor. "I am a physician. If there is someone in there needing medical assistance, I could help. However, waiting for the police may cost us precious time! I strongly recommend forcing that door open ourselves!"
An affirmative murmur echoed through the staircase, and the giant nodded, then shoved the people next to him out of the way, took a run and let his shoulder collide with the wood twice, thrice, four times until it finally splintered around the handle. Another brutal kick performed by an extraordinary muscular leg, and the door leaf crashed into the anteroom of Dr Seward's office – revealing a most gruesome, shockingly horrendous scene...
Arthur Holmwood's diary
14 November
All the dreadful days, all my suffering, every excruciatingly long moment of grief, it all seems like a mere nightmare to me, now that I have my Lucy back. After the ghostly encounter in the park, I of course took her into my house and gave her time to refresh and recollect herself. The rest of the night we sat together, and she told me of the unbelievable things she had experienced.
How vague are the boundaries between life and death! The day she had said her goodbyes to me, she had indeed expected to die, then, however, she had only fallen paralysed and been left unable to move a limb or utter a sound. Seemingly, her heart rate and breathing had become so slow and shallow, that even the family doctor had deemed her dead, but there had still been warmth in her body and the flow of her blood had not ceased. Thenceforth her martyrdom had begun, for her senses had still been intact and she had heard me weeping, everyone talking about her own entombment, had noticed being dressed in her burial gown and laid in her coffin. In the wildest panic she had listened to the funeral march and sermon and everything within her had screamed and cried in sheer terror, as they had closed the sarcophagus' lid over her. When the world around her had gone black and silent, my poor darling had been trapped in her tomb, seeing no way of escape, no chance to call for help – oh dear Lord, what a terrible fate! The most direful, most disastrous experience a human being can imagine! The agony of a premature burial!
I blame myself now for not re-examining her apparently dead body twice, thrice – a hundred times! Oh, if I just had seen a single sign of vitality on her, I could have spared her this horror!
Then, Lucy told me further, after days of ensnarement in the sarcophagus, of imprisonment in the living hell that was the Godalming tomb, she finally found some spark of energy again, as if her cells and fibres were reawakening on their own. At first, she regained her voice and was finally able to actually scream, scream her lungs out in shrieks of sheer anguish, but there was no-one there to hear her desperate clamour. Had I just visited her that dreadful day! Then I would at least have been able to abbreviate her distress! When she noticed that she could move her fingers again, Lucy began scratching, clawing the heavy stone above her, but again to no success. Only after hours or even a day – she could not tell how much time had passed in this never-ending nightmare – she eventually could bring up all of her strength and she pushed against the lid with hands and knees, until it finally – finally! – moved an inch. Sucking in the stale air that streamed in, she relentlessly worked on her escape, until her nails were all broken, her hands red with her own blood, and she could manage to squirm free from her prison, only to find herself in another pitch black chest that was the crypt. Again, it took hours until she was able to break the lock and behold the light of the sun. Exhausted and confused, she fled the cemetery, then strayed the streets and Hampstead Heath – a true marvel that no harm has been done to her during those days! – until she eventually encountered me.
I can do nothing but weep in both pain and joy. Oh, thank God in heaven, I have my Lucy back!
Renfield only weakly smiled at Arthur's long entry on the recovery of his fiancé. Blind with love and relief the poor fool seemed not to have noticed any change in Lucy, not have seen what she had become. He had believed the half-truth she had told him, not questioning her words. In this moment, Richard did not envy the late lord, on the contrary, he felt a certain superiority over the mortal, for, as a night creature, he was able to truly understand Lucy's horrifying experiences. Of course, it was a most dreadful experience to be buried alive, to claw one's way out of a sarcophagus in sheer endless struggle, but the true nightmare surely had been what had followed this exhausting action: Thirst.
His poor Lady must have been parched, every cell in her body screaming for blood, and he did not doubt that she, just as he himself, had tried to catch every life she could reach, even the smallest animal, the tiniest insect – and that none of them had ever been enough!
He wondered how she had managed to restore her condition to the rather composed state in which Arthur had encountered her several days later. Had she consumed the blood of a human? Had she killed someone? It was a possibility, but he could not be sure that she had, and therefore he was in no position to judge her past deeds. Curious, if the diary would reveal more about this suspicion of his, he turned the page.
Again, his father's sword cane had served him well in asserting his interests and Henry Jekyll, Lord Hyde was now granted the honour of access to the London register office's vault-like archives. The air in here was bone-dry to minimise the risk of mould formation, the windows covered with heavy curtains and only a few gaslights lit to prevent the endless rows of files from yellowing. It took him a long moment to find a sign showing the way through the labyrinth of shelves and to section "G", then an even longer while to work through the boscage of book spines until he had located "GO".
Hyde gritted his teeth at the meticulously alphabetically sorted folders. "Goble", "Gocher", "Goddard", "Godfrey"... where the hell was "Godalming"?! Not an hour ago he had read about that family in some history book, and now he could not find a matching file? Here, in the all-preserving, never-forgetting treasury of particulars?
For what seemed like minutes, the lord stared at the imprinted names, almost doubting his reason, until suddenly, the scales fell from his eyes. Of course, Godalming was the name of their title, not their surname! Of course, he would not find them under "G", just like he would not find his own file under "H" for "Hyde", but under "J" for "Jekyll".
Letting out a roar of frustration, he banged his fist against the shelf, making it shiver riskily, causing the archive halls to reverberate with a deafening rattle. He had read a surname somewhere, either in his father's study or the British Library, he was sure of it. However, he had been so focussed on finding anything connected to vampirism that he seemed to have blanked out every other kind of information. No, no, no! He could not go back now and reread everything, he did not have the nerves nor the time for that, goddammit!
Agitatedly, his light brown eyes flickered through the dimness and he bit down on his lip, almost drawing blood, before an idea sprang to his mind: Why not make use of his elixir in order to jog his memory?
Arthur Holmwood's diary
15 November
As much as I am happy that my Lucy lives, as much I am worried about her, for I notice now that my darling has changed. She does not share any meal with me – in fact, I have not seen her eating since I took her into my home. She has spent the day in her quarters and joined me in the sitting room only after sunset. We talked about what to do now, and she asked me not to tell anyone of her return, not until she will fully recover from her dreadful experience. In order not to plant any rumours, she also suggested to send away the servants. As I am indeed able to take care of the essential housekeeping myself for a while, I agreed.
Then, sitting down next to her on the sofa, I took her cold little hands in mine and looked at her lovely features for a long moment. She was smiling that sweet smile of hers, but that could not disperse my worries. Although she assured me that she will not need further medical care, my darling still looks so unhealthily pale, with dark circles around her eyes and blueish veins shimmering through her almost transparent skin. When I leaned in closer, attempting to gently kiss her, she shied away, averting her gaze. Of course, I will be patient, I will wait until my beloved will be better.
16 November
I woke up in the night with some misgiving assailing me and felt obliged to look after Lucy. To my shock I found her room empty, then, however, she suddenly appeared in the corridor behind me, again assuring me that she was alright and had just taken a walk around the mansion. In the twilight, her eyes seemed to glow – a strange phenomenon I have already witnessed back then at the Westenra house – and her lips looked even redder than usually, so beautifully contrasting her paleness. I politely asked if she would grant me a kiss now, and this time she agreed. Oh, how sweet are my beloved's lips! How soft and fragile her form nestling against me! I felt as happy as if the last two months had been erased, as if we never had had to endure all this misery, all this torment! I then asked, if she still wanted to marry me, and she said yes again! Tomorrow, I will make an appointment at the register office.
17 November
The date is set. Lucy and I are getting married in six days, 23 November. There is not much time left to make preparations, but enough to let our families and closest friends in on the secret of my darling's "resurrection". However, when I suggested to write to them, Lucy got unusually angry with me, again committing me to under no circumstances tell anyone that her death was only apparent. I wonder why she is so obstinate in this matter. Is is possible that she is afraid of something? Or someone? Van Helsing maybe? Today I do not dare ask her any further questions though...
18 November
We agreed on a secret marriage. No guests, no party – not even Lucy's wedding dress, for it is rather stained and partly ragged after what my darling had to endure since her burial. As a replacement, however, I bought her a new, beautifully lace-adorned one – white of course, for she refuses to wear any other colours – and it suits her so perfectly! I can barely wait to walk down the aisle with my beloved bride in that gorgeous attire, and – am I being an indecent voluptuary to write this down? – later peel the fine fabric off her adorable body!
Renfield grimaced upon skimming over that entry. On the one hand, he of course wanted to read some details on their intimacy, on the other hand he feared it would cause him horrible feelings of jealousy – a torment he would not be able to assuage in any way, for the target of these morbid emotions was long dead and gone! Looking up at the portrait of Arthur Holmwood on the sitting room wall, the strong urge to just tear the innocent artwork down rose inside him, but he did not dare move a limb. What would his Mistress say, if something happened to her precious keepsake?
Meeting the late lord's motionless gaze for a long moment, Richard suddenly noticed something odd – some strange familiarity in his features... He was sure, that, although he had been acquainted with Dr Seward, Arthur had never been to the psychologist's office. He himself had never met the man. And though, it felt as if he did recognise something in this picture. A bizarre notion. Maybe it was just the hours he had spent indulged in Lord Godalming's notes...
Dr Frankenstein sucked in the air – the thick, foul air, infused with the noxious stench of death! – forcefully at the bizarre sight that unfolded before him. A huge pool of blood covered half of the room's floor and also part of the wall behind a desk, on which a young woman lay with her limbs sprawled out, her skirts tousled, her eyes open wide and staring into nothingness, her neck heavily lacerated and twisted in such unnatural an angle Victor would not have needed a medical doctorate to diagnose cervical dislocation as her cause of death.
However, before the physician could take a step inside this ghastly chamber, the burly man who had kicked in the door almost bowled him over, when rushing inside and towards the corpse on the desk.
"Mary! Oh my God, Mary!" he more squeaked than cried, the high-pitched tone of his horrified voice in stark contrast to his massive appearance.
Soon, more screams of sheer shock out of a dozen gaping mouths followed, echoing through the office building, resounding from the grey stone walls as if they were steep mountainsides. While some of the spectators fled down the staircase in horror, others pushed into the anteroom, nosily ogling the deceased girl.
Only after taking another deep breath, Frankenstein gritted his teeth, steeled himself and dared to approach the body as well. Indeed, he did not have to feel her pulse or check for a breath, for rigor mortis had already set in. Upon taking a closer look at the young woman, however, he raised an eyebrow. He was by no means a detective and not practised in deducing criminological details, but if the amount of blood on the floor and wall had come from the deep wound on her neck, shouldn't it have stained her dress and the desk more?
Ripped from his thoughts by another wail of terror from the hulk, Victor turned towards him and carefully placed a hand on his bent shoulder.
"Are you the husband?" he attempted to sound calming.
"Lawrence Turner... Mary's fiancé," he introduced himself between choked sobs.
"I am sorry..." Frankenstein began expressing his sympathy, but was bluntly interrupted, when Lawrence Turner abruptly clapped a hand over his mouth, then ran past him to a sink on the wall, where he crouched down, throwing up noisily.
"Well," Victor said, again trying to address the crowd. "I think now we should indeed call the police."
However, nobody seemed to listen to him, as they all suddenly dashed to the other side of the room – a corner due to the spectacularly gruesome sight of the corpse until now unregarded.
Another terrible misgiving already rising in his chest, the blood in Frankenstein's veins froze completely, as someone in a shrieking voice exclaimed:
"Good heavens, Doctor Seward!"
Arthur Holmwood's diary
20 November
I have overslept today, maybe because now all seems settled and the tension that constantly nagged at my body and mind has finally abated. When I walked down to the kitchen, however, I encountered Lucy in quite a strange situation: She was busy with the silver tableware, pouring something from a decanter, then, upon beholding me, she quickly shoved everything into the pantry and turned on her heels to greet me with an all too sweet smile. My darling then chatted with me about rather irrelevant things, discreetly guiding me out of the kitchen and to the sitting room.
In the afternoon, when Lucy was reading in the library, I returned to have a look at whatever she was hiding from me, but found the pantry completely empty. What do I have to make of this? Is my beloved taking some medicine she does not want me to know of? Another question I must keep in mind and in the appropriate situation ask her.
22 November
Today there is an article in that lurid paper, again about children who went missing in the park. Since I do not have much time to think about these certainly disconcerting events now – I will have to make last preparations for our wedding tomorrow – I merely attach the clipped text:
The Westminster Gazette
A HAMPSTEAD MYSTERY
CHILDREN DISAPPEARING
During the past days three children, a boy and two girls, have neglected to return home from their playing on the Heath. The worried parents as well as our reporter were not able to find out their whereabouts upon asking the children's playmates, for they were all too young to give any properly intelligible account. When being questioned if they had spoken to any adults, however, most mentioned a "bloofer" lady, a child's language term that still needs explanation. Since too much time has passed since their disappearance to dismiss it as some childish prank, the alarming cases will now be investigated by the police.
Renfield raised an eyebrow. He remembered reading about those events over a year ago, when he had still been working for Dr Seward and during her long consultations with the patients had been bored to death in his stale anteroom. He, too, had wondered what those brats had been babbling when telling the reporter about whom they had encountered. "Bloofer"... what kind of a word was that? But just as Arthur Holmwood, he put that question aside, for he was eager to read on in the diary, strained with curiosity for what would happen after the late lord's wedding.
24 November
I am a married man now! Finally, my beloved Lucy and I are wife and husband! Although the circumstances did not resemble the way I have imagined our wedding, I felt so happy, so relieved afterwards. Although the signing of the contract in the register office lacked any festive aspects and the ceremony was short and held but in a simple chapel, I believe it strengthened our connection very much. It is, indeed, a holy bond that we share now.
I suggested to dine at an exclusive restaurant in the evening, however, Lucy preferred to return home. I fear she is still avoiding public places and social contact, but I did not object or criticise her, for I hoped to in exchange have more private time with my wife. And indeed, Lucy invited me into her bedroom, and instantly drew me into a long kiss – a kiss oh so much deeper than the one she gave me in the chapel, so much more passionate than all the kisses we shared ever before! Holding my beloved and being held by her in such closeness, what a heavenly feeling! When Lucy began unbuttoning my shirt, and her lips wandered lower, softly caressing my neck, I thought this night would become the most wonderful night of my life.
Then, however, she suddenly stopped, abruptly retreating, as if something had appalled her... – and there was that strange glow in her eyes again!
I asked if something was wrong with me, if I had done anything to upset her, but she claimed it was not my fault, but her own condition that would make it impossible to proceed any further. Worried for my beloved's wellbeing, I approached her again, assuring her I would be there for her, assist her with anything she needed. Lucy sighed in an alarmingly afflicted tone then, and eventually told me why the consummation of our marriage would prove a problem:
The horrible nightmares, the torturous visions she had experienced during her illness often had been of a sexual nature, and in the heat of our kissing, the traumatic memories had returned to her! Oh, my poor darling! What would I have given to just erase that dreadful past, to relieve my Lucy from this suffering! I could only take her hands in mine, promise her to be understanding, swear to be patient until she would be better. We then sank into bed side by side and, happy to just lie there, close to my wife, I was soon dead to the world.
It was almost noon when I woke up and instantly I felt unease creeping over me again, for my darling was gone. I went to the entrance hall, calling her name, when, to my great relief, I saw her ascending the basement stairs. I did not ask what she had been doing down there, but only embraced her, again overwhelmingly blessed and grateful to eventually be close to her!
Renfield could not help but grin in mischievous gloating. Poor, decent Lord Arthur had been patient all until his wedding night and though had not gained his prize, had not even gotten a glimpse under his wife's skirts!
Upon a closer look, however, this specific diary entry revealed not only a reason to bathe in malicious joy, but also brought some insight into his own situation. Richard had believed that class distinction, with him a secretary and servant and her his Lady and Mistress, was the main obstacle that prevented her from seeing more in him than a poor protégé. But if he had read between these lines correctly, Lucy back then had lied to her husband. She had not rejected Arthur because of her traumatic experiences with Dracula, but because she had been afraid of her own nature, because she had feared she would hurt her beloved.
What if she now was concerned about his own physical integrity? What if the true reason for her aloofness was again her anxiety not to cause harm to someone she cared for? Richard felt his pulse accelerating at that realisation. Was it but a treacherous notion his longing mind had created for him to cling to in desperate hope or could it be that Lucy would indeed give in to his advances if he could but manage to dispel her worries? Oh God, if it only were so simple!
Taking a deep breath, Renfield clapped Arthur Holmwood's diary shut and put it back into the drawer of his bedside table, then stood up, combed his hair and smoothed out his dressing gown, before he descended the stairs to Lady Godalming's study. What could, in the worst case, happen to him if he broached this subject? It was the hell worth a try!
O, lift me from the grass!
I die, I faint, I fall!
Let thy love in kisses rain
On my lips and eyelids pale,
My cheek is cold and white, alas!
My Heart beats loud and fast
Oh! press it close to thine again,
Where it will break at last!
– P.B. Shelley
Going through the latest real estate offers, Lucy sighed, for the papers contained nothing of interest. Since Sir Carew's mansion, which, by forfeited chance, she had not been able to buy, none of the houses on the market had been worth a viewing.
As she suddenly perceived her servant approaching, she considered his visit a welcomed distraction from the dry work and called for him to enter before he could even knock.
"Good evening, my dear," she greeted him with a smile when he bowed to her. "Are your studies on real estate business proceeding?"
"Well, Milady, I have..." Richard paused as if searching for the right words. "...learned some interesting things from the text I have been reading."
"Splendid," Lady Godalming commented, then, accompanied by the rustle of white taffeta, rose from her seat to approach him.
Wide, opalescent eyes observed her every move and he knitted his brows in an expression of disquietness. Was it her closeness that caused him unease? Or was there something else on his mind?
"How is your wound?" she inquired in a calm and gentle tone.
"Oh, quite good, quite good," he hastily replied. "Thanks to your blood donation there is actually not much left of it, not much at all."
"Let me see," she spoke, cerulean gaze wandering to his left side.
He had to swallow the lump in his throat, before he, in a wavering voice, could answer: "As you wish, Mistress."
She watched in utter amusement as he fumbled with the belt of his dressing gown, hands shaking, then finally managed to open the silken robe. And indeed, only a small mark disturbed the translucent pallor of his lean chest, nothing but a remnant of the deep, gaping bullet wound that a mere day ago had almost killed him.
"See? Not much left," he repeated, cheeks burning in embarrassment.
"And does it still hurt?" Lucy asked, placing a delicate, lace-gloved hand against his ribs, thumb brushing over the bruise.
He almost flinched at her touch and she could feel his heart racing beneath her palm, while a storm of chaotic emotions assailed her from his agitated mind.
"No, Mistress... I am... fine, really!" he assured her between heavy breaths.
Looking up into her servant's half-lidded, pale blue eyes again, Lucy mused about what she wanted the outcome of this tense situation to be. Would she have desired to follow Dr Seward's insinuating recommendation, this would have been the perfect opportunity. The events in the psychologist's office had again showed her that she still did not rule over Richard's darker side, and so, Lady Godalming had in the past few hours considered this obscene option she had so vehemently dismissed in the first instance. Hopelessly enamoured as he was with her, there would be no need for finesse in order to seduce him. A simple caress, a single kiss and he would instantaneously lose himself in her ensnarement, would give himself up entirely to be consumed by her.
But would she be able to, while dominating his world, control herself, too? Or would she become lost in her own web, be consumed by the consumption of his body and mind and soul? And what would she do to him then? She knew what she was capable of, oh, she knew there was a dark, abysmal side deep within herself as well! Lucy felt her servant's chest heaving beneath her hand, beheld his lips quivering, heard his pulse flutter and his very blood surging in his veins in complete discomposure. No matter what he had done in the past, here and now before her stood again the vulnerable boy, the fragile, unloved man.
The lady in white took a deep breath, and her beautiful features took on the most caring, compassionate expression. God, no, she could not do this! She could not condemn him to such a fate! In a smooth motion, she drew him into a tight embrace, gloved hands caressing his back and shoulders until his tense muscles became relaxed and his body melted in her arms, falling limp against her, a relieved sigh leaving his lips.
"My dear Richard," Lucy addressed him in a just as relieved whisper. "I am so glad that you live."
Oh, what a brilliant chemist he was – he had synthesised the very key to knowledge! Again, the repeated injection with his serum had brought the longed for effect! With another dose of fresh elixir running through his veins, Lord Hyde had been able to file through his memory as through a pile of photographs, and within seconds, he had found the surname he needed.
Striding forward through the register office's archives, he determinedly found the way to section "H", and with much more precision than before let his gaze wander along the row of folders. "Hollister", "Hollyland", "Holmes", "HOLMWOOD" – finally!
With a vigorous motion he withdrew the file, went past the long history of age-old entries, and took out the latest page. There, eventually, the names of the youngest members of the noble house were written black on white: Arthur Holmwood, Lord Godalming, along with his wife Lucy Holmwood, Lady Godalming, née Westenra, their date of marriage but a year ago, and their birthdates matching the age of the vampire who had freed his insectivorous patient! Lucy Holmwood had to be the witch who had robbed him of his memory, who had unhinged his life!
Hyde's index finger trailed the lines further to find an address, but before he had reached the section for notes on real estates, he stopped short at an uncommonly long list of additional names. Bewildered, the lord raised his eyebrows. It seemed, the Holmwoods had adopted no less than fifteen children.
Author's note: Parts of this chapter are inspired by a song by The Vision Bleak again, called "The Premature Burial". I've been to their concert lately and I'm still overwhelmed by their gorgeous music! :)