Avalon Revisited (10 page)

“You best get out of here, lad,” Victor said to me. He was in his mid-forties, which made him about a decade older than Avalon, and he seemed to be quite protective of her. He had measured me up during my exchange with Avalon and decided I wasn’t a threat. Now I was just an annoyance.

“I am not a lad, good sir, and I don’t particularly take kindly to being told what to do,” I said, which actually sounded just like something a lad would say. “As I said, I’m out for an evening stroll and my curiosity got the better of me. What are you two doing here, at the scene of such a crime? Certainly, this is no place for a lady.”

“Like you, I gather, there is more to me than meets the eye, Lord York,” Avalon said.

“Call me Arthur.” I smiled.

She didn’t do either.

“And, like you,
Lord York
, I do not owe an explanation. Please continue on your way, and we shall continue on ours.”

“Very well,” I said, tapping my cane twice on the cobblestones. “It was a pleasure to see you again, Avalon. I do believe fate has taken over in our case, and we are destined to see each other again.” I tipped my hat to her, and she turned away quite crossly. It was absolutely adorable.

“I wouldn’t count on it, Lord York. Good evening,” she said, walking toward the road.

And with a smirk from Victor, he dropped his cigar butt and ground it into the cobblestones with his boot, even though it hadn’t been lit. Then he followed her out onto the street. The two turned right down Gray’s Inn Road, with their hands in their pockets and heads down, and walked away.

I, of course, did not go my own way. Or rather, perhaps I did. For it was quite clear to me that wherever Avalon goes, I must follow. This woman was far more interesting than the possibility of another vampire in London. She was my way now.

Deeper down the alleyway I saw an iron drain pipe leading up the side of the building, strangely, starting about a story up. I kept close to the wall in the shadows and tripped over a wooden crate. A dozen rats scrambled out of it and crossed the other side of the alley, their little feet paddling through puddles, leaving ripples in their wake. When I got to the underside of the pipe, I quickly checked to see that no one was at the mouth of the alley or in the street, and then I jumped up, grabbed hold of the bottom, and moving hand over hand, hastened up to the top of the building. It took mere seconds before I was striding along the front edge of the buildings with Avalon and Victor in view, walking on the street below. London, from this particular vantage point, was dark and dirty, just the way I liked it. The streets below were dimly lit with gas lamps, illuminating the few people brave enough to walk about this cold night full of murder and monsters. Windows, sporadically lit up along the buildings in the grey night, became the eyes of London, watching all life go about its business. Far across the city, I could see the roofs of buildings stretching back toward the Thames and north toward Hampstead Heath. Smoke billowed out of chimneys, even on this mildly cool night. The air was still so damp, that many lit fires to keep pneumonia and croup at bay even during the warmer months. All the smoke made London even hazier by night, that mixed with the steam coming from factories and the steam trams, another recent development in London. Londoners took up to calling them CATs, for Compressed Air Tram. One certainly wouldn’t find me on one of those contraptions. Although I did enjoy that dirigible. Perhaps I’ll give the CAT a go as well.

Feeling like a living gargoyle looming over the streets below, I followed them for several blocks before they turned west on Marylebone Road and proceeded for several more blocks until turning north on Baker Street. More people were out in this area, although they stuck close together in groups. Seemed the crowds increased slightly the further we traveled from Gray’s Inn. Victor and Avalon didn’t speak once on the journey, and all I could hear were the clatter of carriages on the cobblestone and groups of people talking in the pubs I passed along the way. It took nearly an hour before they reached their destination. I took note of the building into which they turned and jumped down the backside of it. Pulling the brim of my hat down low, I walked around the block back onto Baker Street until I reached their building, the third in a succession of identical adjoined homes. A hansom sat still just off the curb in front of her abode. Above the door into which they entered was the number 219. The bottom story was done in a white marble façade, the cervices blackened with age. A wrought iron fence enclosed the bay window at street level, likely the parlor. Above, three more stories stretched up into the London-grey night, brown brick with two windows trimmed in white on each floor. The second story had a small balcony of its own, also corralled by a wrought iron fence. I stood there looking up, waiting. There–on the second story, right window–I saw a light brighten, and then dimmer, as if someone had just struck a match. Then another. This must be their dwelling. Were they lovers?

My shriveled heart sank.

The door to my right opened suddenly and out came two well-dressed gentlemen. One had a sandy mustache and the hard look of a military man and the other wore an interesting hat and smoked a rather large pipe. They looked at me quite curiously, as I was just standing on the walk, looking up at their neighbor’s window. I nodded ceremoniously and began walking, passing them and turning the corner eastward. I just made the block, and when I returned, the men and the carriage were both gone. It was fairly early in the evening, so the streets were still too busy to listen from the balcony, even with the diminished activity. Plus, that would be too conspicuous and strange, so rather I leaned against the marble wall between two doors as if just enjoying the evening. Fortunately the rain had subsided, so it wouldn’t appear all that strange. I settled in and focused my hearing onto the different voices coming through the walls until I recognized Avalon’s sweet voice.

“...know a thing,” I heard her say.

“How can you be sure? You think it was just happenstance that he came upon us tonight?”

the voice of Victor followed.

“He’s just young and curious, perhaps too spoiled by wealth is all,” she said. That stung.

“I still say there is something questionable about his appearance tonight. Perhaps he’s the vampire, Avalon. He could be the murderer!”

Avalon chuckled. “Don’t be silly, Victor. He’s harmless.”

Truly must break her of that perspective, and soon.

“He is quite pale.”

“It’s London. Everyone is quite pale.” Her voice took a scolding, exasperated tone with this.

“I want you to arrange a meeting with him. He’s obviously interested in you, and we can use that to interrogate him, covertly, of course. I have no doubt you can find out some things with your...charms.”

Avalon laughed more heartily this time. The sound filled my heart with joy. “Right, Victor.

With my charms. I am just an old spinster landlady after all. What skills could I possibly have?”

“Exactly. He’ll never see it coming. Plus, I’m going to give you this.”

All was silent for a moment or two, as if she was looking at whatever it was Victor was showing her.

“What is it?” Avalon asked, finally. Her voice contained a lilt full of wondrous curiosity.

What was it, indeed. My thoughts exactly. I wish I was up on that balcony. What was he giving her?

“It’s a vampire detector. It's something I’ve been working on, but it hasn’t been tested in the field yet. Here. I’ve put a chain on it so you can wear it as a necklace.”

“It’s rather clunky and obvious. Don’t you think?”

“You can wear it beneath your walking-jacket when you meet him for tea. Soon, I think. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to hear from you.” Victor paused, and things were so quiet for a few long moments, I thought they had left the room. But then Victor said, “I’m just quite glad you don’t feel the same way,” with heavy regret in his voice.

“Victor,” she said, even more quietly, as if to remind him of a previous conversation. “Let’s not.”

“Of course, my dear. Never.
Friends
to the last.” This dark tone I knew all too well. It was one of regret. Longing. Futility. Heartbreak.

So, I have competition.

“Tell me how this works,” she said more cheerfully, as if changing the subject away from one to painful or too tedious.

“As you see, it opens similar to a locket.” Victor had recovered quickly with Avalon’s new direction, for he sounded bright again. “Actually, I used an old pocket watch casing for it. On the inside is a mirror, but this is not an ordinary looking glass, Avalon. My theory is that the darkness of vampires absorb the light. A reflection, after all, is merely light bouncing off of an object. The soulless state of a vampire will absorb the light and that is why they have no reflection.”

What people will believe?

“So how does it differ from a regular mirror?”

“You wind it up here, and it sets the gears in motion. See? Changing the spectrum in which the mirror is reflecting. A regular person’s reflection does not change, but my theory is that a vampire will appear to disappear and then reappear in different colors as the spectrum changes.”

Actually, that might just work. I can’t let her see me in that mirror.

“And how am I to casually have him look into this tiny mirror with me so that I might see if he appears...colorful...all the while the gears are turning? Don’t you think that might be rather noticeable?”

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

“Yes. I’m sure I will think of something,” she said, doubtfully. “Wouldn’t it be easier to ask him to go for a walk in the park during broad daylight?”

“That could work as well, of course. But it’s not near as fun.”

“Perhaps I’ll try a walk in the park first.”

“Oh do indulge me my toys, Ava!” There was a smile in his voice again. They were dear to each other even if not lovers.

“Still, I don’t think it’s him. Come to think of it, my aunt said she had first met him in Hyde Park in the afternoon, so it’s certainly not him.”

“You could be right, but I would like to make sure. There is some reason he was at the scene of the murder tonight, and there was something about him that I just didn’t like.”

Probably that I fancy Avalon
, I thought spitefully.

“And what if he is a vampire, for argument’s sake. What then? Do you expect me to carry a stake with me and dust him in Hyde Park? In his sitting room after tea? Or perhaps one of your strange contraptions strapped to my arm with wooden bullets in my garters. Honestly, Victor.

How will I be discreet with all that?”

Was that what I saw strapped to his arm?

“Just find out first. Don’t let on if you suspect. Your safety is always my greatest concern, my dear.” That pained tone came back into his voice, if only for a moment. “If you think something is amiss, we’ll come at him more prepared another time, together.”

“You’re just too excited about this vampire stuff. Finally a chance to see if they do exist.”

“They do exist,” Victor said somberly. “I am quite sure of it and you are, too.”

“Yes. I am quite sure of it as well,” Avalon said, her voice fading until even I could barely hear it. They said their good-nights to one another, and a moment later, the street was a little darker. They must’ve snuffed out their candles.

Well. Not lovers, anyway, which pleased me. She seemed more than a little uncomfortable at the most subtle hint of romantic feelings between them. Good. She must be the landlady of the house, and he rents a room from her. Vampire hunters. Of all the women I’ve had in my time, I fall in love with a vampire hunter.

Of course.

Although it was still hours before dawn (even before midnight!), I made my way through the gloomy streets of London toward my home. Thoughts of Avalon filled my mind. How elegant she looked last night in her gown. How dingy, yet adorable she looked tonight in dungarees.

How luscious she would look dressed in nothing but candlelight. Yet the normal lascivious images didn’t follow. The only image I could keep in my head were her eyes and her gentle face.

The curve of her lips. That perfect little “o.” I could imagine her naked in my bed looking at me, smiling at me. She was leaning on her elbows and I could see the curve of her backside as it disappeared beneath the sheets, but when I tried to indulge my desire with dirty details of sliding the sheet down and sliding something else inside, my mind would pop back to her eyes.

So. I’m in love with a vampire hunter.

I kicked at a particularly deep puddle and drenched my trousers.

Loving someone whose main purpose was to destroy my kind does indeed present more of a challenge, but it’s not impossible. If anything, it even makes me more intrigued. Victor and Avalon seem to know as little about actual vampires as most people did, so I didn’t appear to be in any immediate danger. Perhaps I will pre-empt her little investigation with an investigation of my own.

Candlelight. Eyes. Lips. Back. Sheet. Eyes.

Yes. Definitely love.

Since Avalon’s home was closer to my own domain than the brothel, I cut through Hyde Park to return home. The trees were a dark silhouette against the moonlit sky. The moon must’ve been quite bright behind the clouds, for it lightened them to a soft grey, making the night quite brilliant. I could hear animal life all around me going about their business until I approached.

Then they all stopped, silent and waiting, until I walked on and they felt safe. The rustling, chirping, and scurrying would start up again after I had passed. The joy I felt at this natural cycle surprised me. Then something new came over me: a feeling so foreign to me that I couldn’t define it at first. It was life. I felt alive! I tossed my walking stick and gloves to the ground, ran up to a silhouetted tree, and jumped onto the lowest branch with ease. The trunk of the tree felt rough against my bare hands. It’s woody and earthy scent filled my nostrils, and the sound of the wind amongst the branches filled my ears. The leaves tickled my face and I laughed out loud!