Avalon Revisited (24 page)

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Authors: O. M. Grey

BOOK: Avalon Revisited
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What we had to discuss was not to be overheard by other tenants.

Victor’s rooms were in shambles. Books had been ripped off the shelves onto the floor.

Papers were scattered all over the desk, table, and floor. Candle wax, hardened into mounds of cascading waterfalls, filled every candlestick, a new, lit candle fused in wax on the tops.

Certainly different than the last time I had seen them, when she was incessantly cleaning and tidying everything again and again. The stages of grief, I suppose.

She sat at the large center table, and I took the chair beside her. She kept her eyes cast down at her hands which were folding a piece of paper over and over again until it was a tiny square, but my eyes never left her sweet face.

“It’s happening again,” she finally spoke, repeating the words from her note. She unfolded the paper and started folding it again.

“Yes. I saw the newspaper,” I said. This was good. At least we’re talking.

“You said it was finished.” She cast a harsh glance at me, and then quickly returned to folding and unfolding the paper. In that one instant, however, I saw her love for me, but it was still clouded by betrayal and grief and pain. Surely I saw it there.

“It was,” I said. “He must’ve started anew.”

“Who? He?” Her anger was rising, she was no longer folding the paper, but rather tearing it into tiny bits.

“Lacy. Frederick Lacy.”

Her head snapped up from her task, revelation shone in her eyes as she looked directly into mine. Her intensity caught me by surprise and filled me with the tiniest spark of hope.

“Victor mentioned him. Who is he?” she asked.

“Not sure. I never did follow up with him, I’m ashamed to say”–she broke our gaze–“my attention was so completely consumed by you.” I tried to reach out to her hand, but she pulled it away, throwing the decimated paper down and rising from her seat beside me. She walked to the other side of the room wringing her hands in front of her, determined not to let me in.

“It was careless,” she managed in a diplomatic tone. She was trying to control her emotions, which was a good thing. It means there are strong emotions that need controlling. Let’s just hope those are still emotions of love. “We must discover who this is and what he is doing.”

“Of course,” I said. “What can I do to help?”

“We must return there–where Victor was attacked.” She paused before saying the word

‘attacked’, as if she couldn’t bring herself to say ‘killed’.

“Do you think this Lacy lives near there?” I suspected as much myself, but I wanted to keep her talking, to keep the lines of communication open.

“Victor had been taking us somewhere that night. He had been very excited about something he had discovered due to that
thing
he found at the brothel. He said it looked familiar to him somehow. I’ve been through all his notes and papers and journals, and I did find mention of a Fredrick from his journals in Romania. Could this be Lacy?” She turned back towards me, excited at putting the pieces together.

“It’s possible. He did mention a Fredrick when he told the story of the vampire at sunrise, but he didn’t use a surname, nor a title. There was no mention of him being a doctor.”

“But it is possible. We should visit this Dr. Lacy tonight.” She was determined to get to the bottom of this. She wasn’t letting go of Victor’s murder, and I wasn’t letting go of her.

“If this man is creating these creatures again, and I’m fairly certain he is, then we must take care and be more than a little cautious,” I said.

“Agreed. First we must learn as much as we can about this man before confronting him.”

“He’s a doctor,” I said. “He’ll need supplies. Let us speak with some suppliers in the area and see what we can learn of him.”

“Good idea! There is an apothecary right there in Kensington. Let’s start there.”

“What of the creature?” I inquired, knowing full well it would be hunting again tonight. Their hunger surpassed even mine.

“Yes. If it was like last time, it will kill again tonight.” Her words echoed my thoughts.

“And exponentially from there.”

“Perhaps we should split up,” she said with a look of pain, which pleased me greatly. She did still love me, and she was worried for my safety!

“We could. Cover more ground. I will go after the creature, as I’d like to keep you out of harm’s way if at all possible.” Avalon’s eyes softened for a moment, but then she looked away, afraid she had betrayed her true feelings. She had. With a smile in my heart, I continued, “You can visit the apothecary and see what you can learn. Do you have today’s paper?”

“It’s here,” she said, pulling out the clipping from beneath a pile of other papers, careful not to look directly at me again.

I had read it when I awoke earlier in the day, but my mind had been so full of lovesick agony, that I didn’t pay too much attention. Now that my Avalon was speaking to me again, I could concentrate.

“Lord Thompson Wallace. They do have fine taste, don’t they?” I said to Avalon before continuing. I even caught the faintest of smiles flash across her lips. “I’ll head over to the Wallace house and see what I can learn. Lord Wallace will likely rise tonight. If they’ve buried him, he’ll be at the cemetery. I will start there this evening.”

Avalon turned from me and went over to a chest at the far end of the room. It was secured with a large padlock, for which she had the key on a chain around her neck. The long silver chain held several keys, along with a heart charm. She opened the chest and then stuffed the keys back down into her corset.

“Take this,” Avalon said, handing me the crossbow and The Slayer gun she had worn the last time we had been hunting together. I took hold of them, touching her hand with mine as I did so.

I shivered at the touch, and so did she. She did not pull away this time, but rather we stayed there together, holding the weapons between us.

“And you? You should be armed with something,” I said softly.

“I’ll take the holy water device and some stakes.” She pulled free of my touch and turned away, denying herself again. And denying me.

“No, you should have The Slayer gun,” I said, offering her Victor’s masterpiece revolver, knowing that the holy water could distract them enough to get in a good staking, but I didn’t want her getting that up-close-and-personal with these things. I wanted her safe. The only creature that would be biting Avalon would be me.

“I’m not a very good shot with that thing,” she said, putting a hand up between us as I moved closer. “Plus, I don’t plan on getting close enough to need the stake. The holy water will keep them busy long enough for me to get back into the crowd. After all, we are going out early and it is a Saturday night. There will be plenty people about. Besides, it’s unlikely the thing will be in an apothecary shop.”

“If you’re sure,” I said softly, moving closer to her again. She didn’t back away, so I reached out to touch her cheek.

“Don’t,” she said softly, turning her face away.

“Why, my love?” I whispered.

“I can’t. When I think of you, I think of that night. That horrible night,” she said, pushing past me. I could tell she was crying, as her voice started to break. She cleared her throat and looked back at me, cold as stone. Keeping her eyes averted from mine, she said sternly, “We must not be swayed from our task.”
And I won’t be swayed from you, my dear Avalon.

Without another word, she strapped on the holy water gadget and hid it with her sleeve. A long, black cape hid the stakes. I strapped the holstered Vampire Slayer around my right hip, the extra bullets each in its separate loop along the belt, and held the crossbow, loaded, under my arm. The hatchet, which I carried with me from my home, was still hanging from the back of my belt. All were well hidden beneath my coat.

And then, we left.

I had Thomas take us back to my home in Kensington, from there we’d walk. The carriage ride was a quiet one. She kept her face turned away from me, gazing constantly out the window into the London evening. I, on the other hand, didn’t take my eyes off her. When we reached my place, I stepped out of the carriage and offered my hand to assist her. She ignored it, climbing down from the brougham on her own.

“Meet back here in an hour?” she asked, determined to be independent and unattached.

“Better make it two.” I knew what I was likely to face at the Wallace’s.

She turned from me and proceeded alone toward the apothecary, but my task was in the other direction. I watched her go, trying to shake the feeling that she was in danger. We both were, but I cared little for myself. It was all her. Her black bustle swayed as she walked, and I could see her white spats peeking out from under her skirts as she moved. Much to my surprise, no lascivious thoughts came to mind. It was all pure love. Then something all together unexpected happened. Painfully hollow for weeks, something warm filled my chest. It rushed in, inflating my empty chest like hot air permeating a giant dirigible balloon. It was hope. Yes. That old bastard hope. Dangerous, that. For rarely did things turn out well. But for now, she was back in my life. I didn’t even blink until she was out of sight and then quickly made my way to Lord Wallace’s home.

 
Chapter 21
 

I rang the bell at Lord Wallace’s, and their butler answered a few moments later.

“Yes?” he asked. He looked down his nose at me, as if his station in life was above mine. He was tall and gaunt, easily in his early seventies. He had seen a long, hard life. Well, as hard a life was as a butler to the wealthy. Could be worse.

“Lord Arthur York to pay his condolences to Lady Wallace,” I said bowing and then offered my calling card.

The butler snatched it from me and looked down at it without lowering his head, then his eyes found me again. He didn’t say a word, but rather just regarded me with disdain for a few moments. I did have a reputation, as Lady Bainbridge had mentioned, so I could only imagine what he was thinking.

“Lady Wallace is not taking visitors this evening, especially uninvited guests,” he said while sliding my calling card into his breast pocket. He, as most butlers to the wealthy, was impeccably dressed. His thinning silver hair complemented the black suit quite well. A handsome man, albeit old.

“Of course. Might I at least inquire about the services? I shall like to pay my respects to the late gentleman. Tomorrow perhaps?” I wasn’t going to give up that easily.

“There will be no public services,” the butler said tersely, “the family is trying to keep this private. Good evening, sir.” He tried to close the door, but I held it open by placing a palm against it. I couldn’t enter the premises without an express invitation, but perhaps I could learn more.

“Have they buried the gentleman already?” I asked with aplomb, breaking all pretense of civility and social grace.

“I beg your pardon, sir!” The butler was becoming alarmed, so I couldn’t press much further without arousing suspicion of the deed myself.

“Just answer the question, dear man, and I will be on my way,” I insisted, as I didn’t want to use my diminished energy to glamour him into telling me.

“Yes. They’ve buried him. What was left to bury,” he said, rather dismayed. “Although I don’t see how it’s any business of yours!”

“Quite,” I said. “Thank you. Good evening.”

I left the butler standing there, stunned. Speechless. But I had gotten the information I needed. Likely, I should’ve started at the cemetery, but there wasn’t a moment to lose. If his body was still in the house, then everyone there would have been in danger. At least rising from the cemetery, he’d have to find his way to the living. It might just buy me some time.

I arrived at the Wallace family mausoleum but a few minutes later, moving at my natural speed over rooftops and then down into the cemetery. To the casual bystander, I would have appeared from thin air, as it were. Fortunately, cemeteries were usually vacant after dark, especially since the vampire stories started circulating again.

I rethought that statement upon hearing a loud thud followed by gravely masculine voices rising from within the crypt.

“Careful!” a man’s voice scolded.

“Sorry, Gov. Jus’ rather freaked,” another voice said.

I started to descend the steps into the lower chamber, listening.

“The guy is dead, nothing to be afraid of. See? Dead,” the first voice said.

As I reached the bottom step, I saw a tall, skinny man holding up the limp arm of Lord Wallace, shaking it to prove his point to a shorter and even skinnier man. They were both filthy and smelled rather bad, even from my distance. That’s saying something if their smell trumped that of death and decay. They didn’t see me, so I watched from the shadows for a moment.

“I get th’ ring,” the shorter man said, taking said arm under his own and tugging at a gold ring on his finger.

“Fine, but the pocket watch is mine,” the first replied, holding up his find. He smiled wide at his treasure, revealing a snaggletoothed mouth. “Search the body for more.”

Grave robbers.

The short man pocketed the ring and started searching the pockets and around the body. The arm he so recently held beneath his own lolled over the side of the tomb. “They really did a num’er on ‘im, didn’t they, Gov?”

“Yeah. Hurry up,” the first said, looking over his shoulder. I flattened myself against the wall with vampire speed, so he didn’t see me necessarily, but he must’ve seen a blur of something. By denying myself human blood for so long, I was truly slower than usual. Probably not as strong either, although Thomas’s contributions undoubtedly helped. I heard footsteps slowly coming towards me.

“What’s up?” the other said, and then cried out in alarm. A harrowing shriek pierced my ears.

I jumped out to find that Lord Wallace’s recently limp arm had become quite strong and had hooked the short man around the neck and was dragging him into the tomb. The taller man was up against the side wall holding the pocket watch to his chest, watching his partner’s predicament with horror-filled eyes, frozen in shock. After a quick crunching sound and a red spurt, the coppery, warm smell of blood filled the air, and my mind went foggy. The only thing I could focus on was the blood. The delicious smell of blood. My fangs descended.

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