Chapter 17
I tear off the ragged remains of my chemise and leap out of bed, feeling strangely energised.
My arm doesn’t hurt at all now. I unwrap the bandage and inspect it.
There’s nothing there! Not a cut nor a mark to be seen.
The why or how of that is inconsequential.
The only thing I have on my mind right now is Dr Dryden.
I crave him with an intensity that blocks out all rational thought except two: I will find out what he’s done to me, and then I will seduce him.
It’s not too difficult to discover his whereabouts. He’s holed up in his study. I can smell him from the stairwell.
Ignoring the fact that I’m naked and my black hair is swirling in an unruly cloud around my shoulders, I bust through the locked study door easily and stand there like a feral Lady Godiva, sniffing the air.
Dr Dryden watches me warily from behind the desk. I sense he’s afraid of me for some reason. No matter. I’m the one who’s in control of this situation. Not him. I’m not sure what’s happened to Florence Hughes, but I don’t feel like a weak little governess anymore.
‘Hello, my beauty,’ he says as I take a cautious step forward, nosing for his delicious scent.
‘What have you done to me?’ I growl at him.
‘What I had to.’
‘You’re not a doctor, are you?’
‘I was once, a long time ago.’
I take another step forward. ‘What happened? Did you kill someone?’
He smiles sadly. ‘Something like that.’
I bounce on the balls of my feet restlessly. The urge to jump overtakes me. I sail through the air, landing with a thump on the desk, in the middle of his outspread newspaper.
Dr Dryden is taken by surprise, even more so when I launch at his neck, driven by an overpowering need to bite him. But I’m jerked back instantly—his fist twisting in my hair, holding me fast.
‘Not so fast, my pretty temptress.’
‘But I want ...’ I whine.
‘I know what you want. Rest assured you will get all the sustenance you need.’
I attempt to pull away, but it’s fruitless; he has a tight grip on my hair, holding me from him like I’m a savage.
‘If I let you go, Florence, will you promise to behave?’
I nod obediently. ‘Yes, Master.’ He slowly releases his hold on my hair. I crawl onto his lap and lie there curled into a ball, snuffling into his chest, while he gently strokes my back.
‘Good girl,’ he breathes. ‘That’s the way. Nice and gentle now.’
I can be his kitten, if that’s what he wants. But I feel more like a bloodhound.
And there’s something wrong with my mouth. My upper gums are aching unbearably. I rub at my lips, but it only serves to make it hurt more, and I whimper.
‘Is your mouth sore? Let me have a look,’ Dr Dryden says. He cups my chin, and I obediently tilt my head, allowing him to peel back my upper lip. He peers in and runs a finger gently along my gums, making me wince. ‘Hmm, progressing nicely,’ he mutters.
He bends towards me and licks my gums with his tongue right at the place where it aches the most. A moment later, there’s a hot eruption. I moan in pain, fear, and rising horror as something sprouts in my mouth. What is happening to me?
‘Hush now. It’s all right. It’s just your blood teeth coming through. I helped them along.’ Dr Dryden cradles me in his arms, rocking me, but I feel anything but reassured.
‘B-blood teeth!’
Gingerly, I open my mouth and touch each of my eye teeth. They feel like pointy fangs!
Something odd is also happening to my heart—it keeps racing in my chest and then faltering. It must be the shock, or I’m having a heart attack. So this is how my life ends—sitting naked on a false doctor’s lap in Belgravia, with bizarre teeth.
Dr Dryden places his forearm on the desk and makes a small incision on his wrist with a knife. Blood droplets appear along the line of the fresh cut. He dips his finger into the blood and smears it on my gums.
‘This will help ease the pain,’ he says, and the relief is instant, like a soothing balm.
I don’t know how or why it does as I’m too distracted by the taste of his blood and the delicious smell of it emanating from his wrist. It’s too tantalising to ignore. He holds his wrist to my mouth. ‘Feed a little. It will help with the transition.’
Instinctively, I place my lips on the cut and suck.
The flow of Dr Dryden’s blood gushing into my mouth is ambrosial.
Tears leak from my eyes as my heart gallops and slows.
Gallops and slows. Gallops ... and stops.
I shudder and jerk against him, blood dripping from my lips onto my white thighs. Oh, I’m dying. I’m dying!
‘Forgive me, my darling,’ Dr Dryden gasps, clutching me to him. ‘Forgive me.’
Why is he saying that? Why is he begging for my forgiveness? It’s not his fault.
I reach up to touch his face (it’s the last one I’ll ever see) as I struggle to breathe, straining, gasping for air. Then an excruciating pain shoots through my entire body, and I slip down into a velvety black embrace. Oh, merciful God, at least it’s going to be quick.
***
My tomb is in utter darkness. But somehow, I can feel with utmost precision the slippery cold silk sheets against my skin, every single spring of the mattress I’m lying on.
As my eyes adjust, the room slowly comes into focus and sharpens with unnatural clarity. Thick velvet curtains are tightly drawn, and the room is bathed in violet light, dust motes suspended like stars. I blink in wonder.
‘Welcome back, my darling.’ I turn my head towards his voice. Dr Dryden is sitting with his legs crossed in an armchair by an unlit fireplace, and I can see every pore on his translucent skin.
‘What happened?’ I ask, sniffing the air as a lovely scent tickles my nostrils. Dr Dryden pushes up off the chair and walks over to me. The scent—his scent—intensifies, making my mouth water.
He kneels by the bed and takes my hand. His touch is a comfort in the midst of bewildering uncertainty.
‘You died, my darling.’
Disbelief and horror roll through me as his words sink in. I died? I’m dead? ‘W-what?’ I whisper. ‘But why are you here too? Are we in heaven?’
Dr Dryden’s mouth twitches, as if he finds this last question funny. ‘No, we’re not in heaven, my dear. But you, me, Charlie—we are all dead or undead actually. Creatures of the night. Nosferatu. Or if you prefer a more popular term: vampires.’
‘Vampires ...’ I run my tongue over my teeth, feeling the sharp points with a shudder. ‘I’ve heard the name, but I thought it was just folklore. W-what does it mean exactly?’
Dr Dryden squeezes my hand. ‘It means we are immortal, Florence. We don’t grow old, and we can’t die, not from natural causes anyway. We can eat flesh. But to keep strong and healthy, we must drink the blood of the living—and from each other ...’
Revulsion and curiosity shoot through me, and Dr Dryden gives a low chuckle, as if gleaning my emotions.
‘But it is a most pleasurable experience,’ he adds. ‘Will you let me show you? I promise it won’t be painful.’
I nod, trusting him. But why I trust a man who’s turned me into a creature of the night, I don’t know.
Rising, Dr Dryden sits beside me on the bed and brushes back my hair from my breasts.
He leans forward, and two sharp needles sink into my flesh.
I gasp from the intensity, but he’s right: I feel no pain, only a thin trickling pleasure that grows into rapture as he sucks from the wound, his hand reaching down to simultaneously stroke between my legs.
He’s not going to stop this time. I won’t let him, I think determinedly.
Dr Dryden huffs a soft laugh. He redirects his mouth to my nipples, and his tongue laps and toys while I moan and writhe beneath him. His fingers thrust inside me and I open my legs wide, shuddering with excitement in the violet light, which is now as bright as day.
‘I am all yours, Master. Take me,’ I moan.
Dr Dryden stands and swiftly sheds his jacket and waistcoat, then begins unbuttoning his trousers.
‘Oh yes, my beautiful girl,’ he says with a smile, his white fangs dripping with my blood. ‘I plan to.’