Avalon Revisited (9 page)

“Right away, m’lord.”

Nick and I sat down at my favorite tea table with London bustling about out the window beneath us. He looked mischievous, moreso than usual.

“What is it, Nick? You have something on your mind.”

“Tell me about the night of Pemberton’s Party.”

“What of it?” I said. “The same as any such party. Dull conversation. Drinks. Dancing. Were you there? I didn’t see you.”

“I didn’t see you either, or rather I did see you, but only for a moment. Right before you stole away with that older woman. You do have a thing for older women, Arthur.”

“Experience, my boy.”

“Yes, but in this case, something happened. She ended up dead.”

He noticed me with her. This isn’t good.

“You’re quite direct, dear boy! No beating around the bush with you!” I responded.

Just then, Cecil came in with our tea and served us. However with murder as a subject, I could hardly believe he would want to discuss anything else. After Cecil was dismissed, Nick continued.

“Tell me you didn’t, Arthur!” His look was one of excitement and intrigue, not fear. He wanted in on the game.

“And if I did, young Nicholas, what then?” I asked. Nicholas took two sugar cubes from the bowl and plopped them in his tea. I followed suit, as was necessary. Tea without blood was quite horrendous.

“Well, I’d want in on it. You’ve trumped me, dear chap! Yes! Treating them like the trash they are. Good for you ol’ boy. So you did do it then?” His look was one of complete intrigue. He stirred his tea a little too forcefully, causing it to slosh down the side and collect in a brown puddle on the saucer.

“Of course not, Nick,” I laughed. “How absurd! I did begin to seduce the woman, but as you saw last night, I haven’t been at my best. That night in particular, I was quite corned after much wine and whiskey and became rather ill. I left early. And what about you? How did I not see you that night?”

He didn’t seem convinced. He sipped his tea and regarded me for a moment. I kept my expression calm, almost bored. Yet, he did not let up.

“Oh no, Arthur. Not so easy. I know how you like The Chamber. Certainly that’s not a coincidence.” His eyes didn’t leave mine, nor did they even blink. It was as if he was trying to see my guilt or innocence betrayed somewhere deep in my eyes. He, of course, had no idea of the level of my deception skills.

However, if he continued down this line of inquiry, this could pose a problem. Now I remember why I choose not to keep close friends. I would hate to have to kill Nicolas. He was an interesting fellow after all.

“I do enjoy the Chamber of Horrors from time to time, but I haven’t done so for quite some time now. I went to the airship gala last night. We spoke there, remember?” I said, tapping my temple to insinuate he was rather stupid or insane. “Perhaps you were on the ran-tan yourself, ol’

chap.”

“Of course I remember, but there was much more night left after the ship landed, and I know you are quite the night owl after all. What did you do when you left the airship.”

Now I was quite bored with this conversation. Images of his neck snapping filled my head, but that certainly wouldn’t look good with these other murders. Especially if I used his head as a teapot. The living did have a tendency to become quite the nuisance. Though all these thoughts, my expression did not change from mild amusement.

“You have quite the imagination, Nick,” I said, sipping my tea. He didn’t let up but rather stared at me intently. “If you must know, I was with Avalon.” I lied. Well, I did
call
the whore

‘Avalon.’ Did that count?

“But she virtually ignored you last night!”

“What can I say, ol’ chap? In the end, she couldn’t resist my charms.”

“They never can.”

I drank the last of my tea and poured us each another cup. Nicholas took a biscuit from the tray and took a bite.

“Besides, I think you were too busy with your Nancy to truly notice what anyone else was doing or not doing, wouldn’t you say?”

“She does pose a challenge, but I’ll break her down yet.”

“No doubt you will, dear boy. No doubt you will.”

“Your biscuits are stale, dear boy. Must tell your man,” he said and proceeded to dip the biscuit in his tea.

“How odd. He just picked them up today.”

Nick seemed to drop the theory of me as murderer, at least out loud, even if he didn’t drop the subject.

“So what do you make of all this vampire business, Arthur? Do you believe in such a creature?”

“Of course not. Balderdash. It’s just the press selling papers is all.”

Nicholas was silent. He took another biscuit and dipped it in his tea.

“Don’t tell me you believe this nonsense!” I said with the appropriate amount of alarm in my tone.

“Well, father says he’s heard of such creatures. He even has a book on it. The entire business is rather fascinating, don’t you find? Murder and monsters. How exciting.”

“I find it all rather droll and commonplace, dear boy.”

“What do you think then, Arthur?”

“It’s likely just a demented man. A lunatic, perhaps. Or, at best, one who fancies himself to be this mythical vampire. No doubt the police will catch up with him soon enough.”

“Perhaps you are right.” Then after another moment he added, “I wonder what that says about you, dear boy. You frequent the same brothel as a madman.”

“Indeed. I’m surprised you don’t go there yourself. You do like them young after all.”

“Yes, but not
that
young. Did I tell you about Lady Bloomington’s daughter last week.

During
her debutante ball! She certainly came out, dear boy,” he said with a mischievous grin.

“She was a delicious peach!”

“And what of your virginal twins from the park?”

“Virginal? Not anymore! And all
before
their debutante ball this coming week. I’m afraid I won’t be able to make it to their ball after all. They will be terribly disappointed, no doubt,” Nick said with a grin.

The rest of tea was spent comparing conquests as usual. We met about once a month for tea to discuss seduction strategy and the like. He was good, but I was so very much better. Then I should be after a few centuries. Not all that bright, Nicholas. He unquestionably had the looks, but he was rather dim over all. Not that the women cared. They only saw prestige, titles, and money. They deserved him and his treachery.

Nicolas would make a ruthless vampire. Perhaps if it comes down to it, I’d turn him rather than kill him. Might be nice to have a friend on the prowl. But could I truly stand eternity with Nicholas?

Against my better judgment, I returned to the brothel after sunset. This time, I had Thomas drive me to the East End and drop me a few blocks away. It was a chilly evening, especially for Spring. The rain was falling in large drops that felt cool even on my cold skin. The cobblestone roads looked almost new, washed clean from the rain, and shone a silvery hue in the gas lights.

The streets were empty. Uncustomarily so. Whereas most evenings were filled with the city folk bustling to and fro, going about their business, very few people were out tonight. I had only seen one other chap on the street, and he quickly changed direction when he saw me. Come to think of it, even on the drive over, there had been relatively few carriages out. Perhaps all of London was reacting to these murders. An eerie silence surrounded me as I made my way down Gray’s Inn Road, and I thought about the events of the afternoon, or rather, the lack thereof. The park had been a bust. Although full of people, who must feel safe during the day and amongst large crowds, I didn’t run into Emily or Hazel or even Eliza. Then with Nick’s suspicions to complicate things. Still, I couldn’t stop thinking of Avalon. Well, Avalon and this curious murder.

The thought of another vampire in London shouldn’t come as such a surprise. After all, it was quite a large city. No way to tell, of course. Not until I could see the body and get more information. But why did I even care? Must be self-preservation. Just the thought of another, indiscriminately killing under the guise of ‘vampire’ set me on edge. My thoughts strayed again to Avalon, and I wondered what she was doing this cold night. My feet fell heavily on the stones, mocking the absent cadence of my dead heart.

As I approached the alley, I could see that the place was still overrun with police, so I kept my distance. I wanted to shove my hands in my pockets and hide my face as I passed, but that would arouse more suspicion than a gentleman out for a stroll. I kept my head high and set my walking cane firmly on the ground with each determined step. A few coppers looked up as I passed across the street from them. I waved confidently and continued walking. They looked away without notice. I took the opportunity to duck down an alley opposite the brothel and hid in the shadows beneath a short eave. Shaking the rain from my coat, I caught a familiar, sweet scent, but before I could explore the source, I bumped into something in the darkness there. I wasn’t alone.

“Oi!” a deep voice said next to me, high above my own ear.

“Pardon me, sir,” I apologized, moving out from under the eave into the relative light. The man stepped out, too. He was much taller than me and rough around all the edges. His beard was scruffy and his hat was torn. His jacket was smeared in mud and also torn in several places, but he was handsome enough beneath it. Strong jaw, deep set eyes, colored an even deeper blue. He wore the clothes of a dock worker and was chomping on the end of a nearly disintegrated cigar butt.

Another smaller man, possibly a young lad, stepped up behind him. This one was shorter than me. Together, they made quite an interesting pair. Shabby and dirty just like the larger man.

His hands were on his rather small hips, and he looked quite cross, from what I could see of his beardless face. His wide brimmed hat shadowed most of it. Many people would be frightened stumbling upon two men such as these in a dark London alleyway across from a murder scene, but I’m much scarier if I need to be.

“What’re you doing here?” the smaller one said. His voice hadn’t deepened yet, so he must be quite young.

“I’m just out for an evening stroll,” I said.

“In the rain?” the lad chided back at me.

“I like the rain,” I snapped back.

How terribly unconvincing of me. Why was I so being defensive? I didn’t owe these ruffians an explanation. They appeared even more suspicious than I did, dressed as they were and lurking in a dark alley across from the murder scene. I straightened my coat and held my head up high, letting the heavy raindrops fall past the brim of my hat and hit my cheeks.

As the two moved further out of the shadows, I stood my ground and prepared to defend myself. It would be messy right across from all the police, so it would have to be quick. If it came to that. The boy looked up at me, bringing his face out of his hat’s shadow into the moonlight. My heart filled with joy! The young lad wasn’t a young lad at all, but rather my beloved Avalon dressed in an old pair of filthy dungarees with dirt smudged on her sweet face.

“Avalon?” I said quietly, not yet sure of my own eyes.

“SHHH!” she scolded. “We’re undercover.”

“Undercover for what?”

The large man elbowed Avalon none too gently; she didn’t continue.

“Victor Dawson,” the large man said, offering his hand. It was gloved as well. I shook it and caught a glimpse of something strapped to his wrist, but I couldn’t make it out without being obvious.

“Arthur York,” I replied.

“Lord York,” Avalon interjected, hands still on her hips. Her exasperation aroused me.

“So, you two know each other?” Victor said.

“We’ve made an acquaintance, last night on the dirigible.” Avalon said, looking at me suspiciously.

“Indeed we did,” I replied. “It was the highlight of my week.” I bowed slightly to her, ever the gentleman.

“You still didn’t tell me what you are doing here. At the scene of last night’s murder?” She took a step in front of Victor and stood squarely before me, face stern. Jaw set. Lips forming that perfect, adorable “o.” Eyes glaring with suspicion. I could just make out the curve of her breasts beneath the baggy shirt. Her jacket was spread wide open, held back by the little fists that remained planted on her hips. A rope belt, frayed on the ends, kept her dungarees in place. Just one slice with a knife and that belt would split in two...

I smiled at my own imagination. “Morbid curiosity.”

“Morbid curiosity?” That seemed to appease her slightly, for she dropped the exasperated stance and crossed her arms. Much to my disappointment, her jacket fell back into place, covering any sign that she was a woman beneath all that grime. “You don’t seem the type. Aren’t you too young for such curiosity?” she said.

Yes. It was this again. My age, or rather, my appearance of age, especially to a woman of middle-age. I died when I was quite young. Imagine the nightmare of being a teenager forever.

Especially being treated like someone’s wayward son, age after age, when my knowledge and experience surpassed all of the oldest elders of any generation. It has been quite the inconvenience, as one may expect. Fortunately for me, due to my mannerisms and fine style, I could usually pass for twenty or so, but rarely older. It worked well for lonely, desperate wives of crotchety old men, but all this bright lady saw was a young, inexperienced aristocrat. I must certainly change that.

“I’m not as young as all that,” I replied, crossing my arms in kind. I focused in deep on her eyes, and she felt me there, for she took an unconscious step back. “Besides,” I continued, relaxing my stance, “Vampires. How original and interesting. It’s just sensational press, isn’t it? I mean, there are no such things as vampires, are there? I mean, how preposterous. Still it piques one’s curiosity, doesn’t it? It certainly has piqued mine.”

“Oh vampires exist all right,” Avalon said and Victor elbowed her again. This time she didn’t stop but rather gave Victor quite the glance, telling him she wasn’t at all pleased with being jolted so. His change in expression told me he got her meaning.