The Classified Dossier: Sherlock Holmes and Count Dracula(55)
“But how could this be, Holmes?”
“Finding one in connection to a case with evidence of the equally rare ‘mature vampire’ must immediately make us look for the presence of the one vampire we know to be in possession of such a rare trinket. And if we look for Mary, we must also keep our most vigilant watch for the Mariner Priest. He created her and she is very likely his instrument. We have been waiting these long months for the Mariner Priest to make a bold move and I sense this may be it. I shall take just a moment to write out telegrams to my other agents of the Midnight Watch that keep our vigil over the city’s cemeteries and morgues, to give them warning.”
I drank my evening’s breakfast quickly, the warm blood from the butcher’s shop both appalling and intoxicating in equal measure. I set the still warm cup aside and made preparations with a sense of great foreboding. Seeing Holmes open the left drawer of his desk and pull out the black revolver that held his silver bullets, I retrieved my revolver, as well. I also added to our armaments my heavy silver-topped walking stick, which had a small bit of silver at the tip, but also a heavy weight of it at the head. I’d had a durable, leather cover especially made in order to hide my unusual and extravagant amount of silver, and also because handling it myself would be excruciating without it. Still, the cover could come off in an instant, when needed and the stick made a comforting weight. We had, of course, commissioned two of these weapons. The thought that these might be brought to bear against the woman who had once been my wife sent a horrible chill through me.
While Holmes dug out the dark lantern from behind a collection of books and monographs on poisons, I selected my gloves, my heaviest waterproof and my largest brimmed hat. I thought it unlikely for an excursion of this magnitude to come to a conclusion before the sun came up again.
*
Somersby met us near the southern entrance to Highgate, as had Shinwell Johnson so many times before. Our newest recruit to the Midnight Watch, Nigel Terrance Somersby was a dark-haired, bearded young man, stocky and well-groomed. He looked nervously at us through a pair of silver pince-nez, his heavy eyebrows drawn together. A light rain came down, further shadowing the already murky London around us.
“Mr Holmes,” Somersby said as soon as we stepped out of the cab, “Dr Watson. This way, please. Most likely we’ll have until morning before anyone else discovers the body. It’s been hard enough keeping people away this long.” Somersby was new to this work, inducted into our little organization to replace Johnson at Miss Winter’s suggestion. I had my doubts, as he was visibly unnerved by the whole situation.
“The official force will have their chance soon enough,” Holmes said. “Better to have a look at it now, even in the dark, than to wait for the Scotland Yarders to remove all traces.”
Holmes looked at Somersby carefully, walking around him as if the man were a clue of the utmost importance himself. He was looking, I knew, at the man’s face and neck for any signs of Somersby having been bitten. This strange examination didn’t do much for Somersby’s nerves, and his eyebrows shot up as Holmes prowled around him.
“I see no signs of infection,” Holmes said. He shot me a glance for confirmation and I shook my head, indicating that I, too, detected nothing untoward. I could tell by Somersby’s nervous scent that he was still very much human.
“Now, Mr Somersby,” Holmes said, “if you would be so good as to lead us to the crime scene.”
“Of course, Mr Holmes. The body… that is… man…”
“Come now,” Holmes chided him. “If the presence of a mere dead body is going to unnerve you, you’ll be of no use to us when they start digging their way out and running around London trying to eat the citizenry.”
“Don’t worry, young man,” I said. “I know it’s unnerving to be dealing in such affairs, but it does get easier.” I reached out to lay a hand on his shoulder.
“Don’t touch me!” he yelled, flinching and drawing away.
“Have no concern,” Holmes said to him. “I assure you that Dr Watson is one of the most morally steadfast men, afflicted or otherwise, that you are ever likely to meet.”
“That may be,” Somersby said, “but I don’t want any of them to touch me.” I let my hand drop, understanding all too clearly what he meant by ‘them’.
“Take no offence, Watson,” Holmes said. “His introduction to the affliction of vampirism was every bit as painful as your own, perhaps more so. Somersby was forced to retire his mother after she tried to murder the rest of the family.”
“I understand,” I said stiffly. “A horrible experience. My deepest condolences.”
“My father and sister didn’t see her,” Somersby whispered. “Not the way I did.”
“A horrible experience,” Holmes agreed without any trace of sympathy, “which makes you the perfect recruit, Somersby. Miss Winter and I were in perfect agreement on that score. Where is she now?”
“Why…” the man started, then fell silent, looking back and forth between the two of us.
“What is it?” Holmes snapped.
“Why is it this man gets to live?” Somersby blurted out, “and Winter, too… while my mother got a stake in the chest? Why?” The man’s voice was pained.
“I thought Miss Winter explained it to you,” Holmes said impatiently. “Indeed, I should think the mere fact that Miss Winter bothered to explain anything to you at all instead of opening your throat would be an explanation enough for most people, wouldn’t it? Most vampires wouldn’t bother speaking. Your mother didn’t.”