A Guide to the Creatures of the Slum
By Mrs Reginald Slater
27-8 May, Midnight. — Getting in, evidently, is the easy part. Getting out — that'll be more complicated. Not only because of the strange underground room, but because of the appearance of Trotter and Augustus Selling.
"Now what?" I hear Wells hiss, when the two men start talking in low voices.
"This was your idea," Cornelius hisses back. "What's next?"
To my surprise, it's Naomi who takes the lead. "We'll go in there, me and Cornelius and Wells. Incapacitate them and start freeing the creatures. Langdon, Marjorie, you two need to find that vampire's head."
Right. I completely forgot about that head. "Are you sure that's a good idea?" I whisper back.
"It's the only one we have," says Wells from behind me, and I feel him tap me on the shoulder with the backs of his fingers. "Give this to Marjorie."
I take the object from his hand, discovering quickly that it's an ammunition belt, full of shells. I hand it over to her and just as quickly Wells is handing me something else — a shotgun. Probably the same one that I saw her shoot the Drowned Man with.
Naomi does the same thing from the other side, outfitting Marjorie further with a revolver and several silver bullets. "Because you're the best shot" I hear her whisper.
"Now go," Wells whispers in my ear. "While they're distracted."
I feel Marjorie take my hand to pull me up, and I let her. Then we're off again, at a run back down the passageway. We hit the stairs and wind up them, our feet slipping off so often that it hinders our progress numerous times. Marjorie even falls and barks her shin, and as I help her to her feet she hisses in pain.
"Christ, that hurts," she says.
Finally we reach the top and emerge outside again. Marjorie has to stop and rub her shin, wincing so much I see her rucking up her skirts to look at it.
"Cripes," I say when she finally gets to it. There's a deep gash across the bone, just underneath her knee. It's already bled enough to stain the top of her stocking, and is slowly making progress towards her shoe.
"That's why it hurts," she breathes. Then, before I can be a chivalrous gentleman and offer my own bandage, she tears a strip of fabric from one of her many skirts and clumsily attempts to wrap it around her leg. But her fingers shake too much, and they keep slipping.
"Here. Let me." I step forward and gently pry her hands away, then kneel down to wrap it tightly around her shin and double-knot the ends. Even in the dim moonlight I can see spots of blood already seeping through it, but it's the best we can do for now.
"So..." Marjorie takes a deep breath when we've finished. "Where exactly is this slain vampire's head?"
—
28 May, midnight. — I could never understand why, but the Institute has a sort of trophy hall. It's where alumni display something from a hunt they're particularly proud of. On the first day of the first year, the form group instructor will take their students to see it, invite them to wander, and tell them that one day, they might come back here with a trophy.
Father's is a severed vampire's head. The story was that he slayed it when he was my age, thirty-three years ago, without knowing what he was doing. It had broken into the residence hall and had already killed two students by the time he had caught up his rapier, ran downstairs, and staked it straight through the heart. It was only after the vampire was dead that he sliced its head off to preserve as his own trophy.
YOU ARE READING
Thrill of the Chase (Hunters & Heartbreakers 1)
Historical Fiction(✔️) Langdon Wilkes is a reluctant - and somewhat bumbling - hunter. But because his father is the headmaster of the Institute of Paranormal Study and Prevention, just as every Wilkes before him, he hardly has a choice. That is, until he runs into...
