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  It was our fourth day in London when Frankenstein showed up at the flat early in the evening before the sun had fallen. He had been spending his days consulting with other occultists and scientific researchers so that he could gain the necessary knowledge for his planned operation regarding Johanna, and had been too preoccupied in his thoughts to show much life during this time. That evening he was flushed with excitement as he announced that I would have to forgo my nightly activities, for he had plans to bring me to a special gathering.

  “We will be leaving here at ten o’clock sharp, for we have an invitation to an exclusive club where you will be the guest of honor,” he said nearly breathless.

  “The Pig Snout Club?” I asked He gave me a curious look, but did not bothering pursuing my dubious comment, and he soon left me to prepare for the evening’s festivities.

  By ten o’clock, Frankenstein was dressed in his finest clothing, complete with a red satin cape, and his skin was still burning a bright pink over the anticipation that he held for the gathering. A coach was waiting for us when we left the flat. The moon wasn’t much more than a crescent and only a few stars were able to break through the haze of the night air. While Frankenstein had the driver hold his lantern so that he could enter the coach safely, he asked the driver to go back to his station when it was my turn so that I could slip in unseen.

  While the coach drove away, thoughts rattled through my head of how I could get my enemy onto the London streets at night, for I knew villains were skulking about out there. Frankenstein would not last more than a mile walking in the darkness before one of these villains caved in his head with a club or stuck him through the heart with a knife. But there was nothing I could do to trick him into leaving the coach, and when I turned to throw him out by force, my arms slackened at my side and became dead things.

  He sensed my movement and gave me a puzzled look. “Do you want something, Friedrich?” he asked.

  “Only to know about the nature of this club,” I muttered in defeat.

  “You will see soon enough, my friend.”

  I sat back hating myself for my weakness. But I knew I had only been deluding myself. Even if I had the strength to push him from the coach, fear of losing my Johanna forever would have overpowered me and would have stilled me as surely as Frankenstein’s black magic had. I sat back within my seat and brooded in my self-loathing.

  CHAPTER 24

  The coach followed along the Thames for several miles before turning down a narrow unlit street, then making additional turns on several more cramped roadways before coming to a stop by a stone wall. The driver craned his neck to look back at Frankenstein and to tell him that this was the address. “You’re sure this is where you want to be let off?” the driver asked him.

  “Yes, of course. Let me make use of your lantern.”

  The driver reluctantly handed over his lantern. Frankenstein held it as he left the coach, then stood with his back to the stone wall. I followed him but stood outside of the glow of the light. Seconds later a man wearing a black cape similar to mine stepped out from the darkness to stand next to Frankenstein. As he got closer to the light from the lantern I could see that he also wore a black mask over his eyes and nose as if he were a bandit. He did not say anything, but even with his mask I could see him staring intently at my enemy.

  “We will be drinking heartily to our master’s good health and rosy glow,” Frankenstein uttered softly, and this costumed man nodded his assent at these words.

  “Here, give this back to the driver,” Frankenstein said hurriedly, handing me the lantern. As I returned it to the driver, his eyes grew wide as he saw my size from the glimmer of the light that the lantern produced, but he did not say anything, and with a lash of his whip sent the horses pulling his coach away. It was then that the man who had slipped out from the shadows to meet Frankenstein pressed in an innocuous fashion on several stones along the wall, causing a hidden doorway to unveil itself to us as a section of the wall swung out. The costumed man then led us down a steep and winding stone staircase, the ceiling of which was so low that even Frankenstein had to stoop to keep from grazing his head, and I had to walk nearly bent over. As we navigated down these steps, Frankenstein commanded me to lower my hood, as it would not be necessary where we were going.

  Finally we reached the bottom of the staircase and entered a room that was filled with steam and the smell of sulfur, as if we had entered Hell itself. Red flames burned along the path we walked, and cages filled with fluttering bats hung from the stone ceiling. At the end of this room, our guide opened an iron door that was so small I had to get on my knees to crawl through it, and afterward found myself inside of a room that was considerably cooler than the steam-filled room that we just left. This new room held about a dozen people, most of whom were dressed in similar costumes to our guide. Some of these people were lying sprawled upon fur-lined divans, while others were standing. Our guide did not join us but instead left, presumably so that he could bring down other visitors who were able to tell him the same password that Frankenstein had.

  This time I did not have to worry about scraping my head against the ceiling for it was over twenty feet high. The group of people rushed toward us, and one of them handed both Frankenstein and myself pewter goblets that were formed in the shape of Satan’s head, complete with curved horns. Frankenstein whispered to me that members of the club all wore black capes and masks while guests wore what they pleased.

  “He does drink, doesn’t he?” this man asked.

  Frankenstein laughed at that. “More than ten men. I’ve seen him empty many a bottle of wine and brandy without bothering to come up for air.”

  “Well, then, he should enjoy some good old English whiskey!” This man peered closer at me, his eyes squinting. “Remarkable, truly remarkable,” he muttered. “And you built him yourself? I would have guessed that he had come straight from the bowels of Hell!”

  “It was my handiwork,” Frankenstein said, a smug smile curving his lips. “But Hell did play a role. It was Satan’s power that breathed life into him. In his own way he is as close to Satan as we will ever get, at least in this lifetime.”

  “How did you bring him to life?” this man asked.

  “A rare book I uncovered,” Frankenstein said. “Over five hundred years old, and from this I was able to unlock the secrets of alchemy. And he is proof of it!”

  “Is it… I mean, he, safe?” one of the other guests asked.

  “Quite,” Frankenstein said with a thin smile. “Right now he would like to do nothing more than to rip me to pieces, but he is incapable of doing anything other than being my obedient slave, thanks to the satanic magic that I employed. Isn’t that true, Friedrich?”

  I drank the amber liquid in my goblet before answering him, and the whiskey burned my throat. Once, Herr Klemmen and I drank cognac together to celebrate my betrothal to Johanna, but this beverage was stronger. I handed my empty goblet to one of the guests for him to refill it.

  “Throttling you would be sufficient,” I said.

  My answer brought a vindictive glint to Frankenstein’s eyes, but before he could say anything else one of the women club members commented about how strong I looked. “Could we have a demonstration?”

  “Of course, madam,” Frankenstein said with a polite bow, and he nodded toward two of the club members, both of whom with their round pear-shaped bodies and thick whiskers would have been in trouble if they ever ended up in the hands of the surviving members of the pig snout collectors. I grabbed them by the backs of their capes, holding them so that I also had a grasp of their jackets, and I raised my arms so that I lifted them straight up into the air. They sputtered their indignation over this, and were red faced by the time I dropped them back to the floor. Several of the other members were laughing at this demonstration, and these two men decided that it would be better to take it in good humor.

  “Can you have him disrobe?” the same woman member asked. “I would like to see him
naked!”

  Several of the other members and guests murmured their desire for this also. I instantly regretted my throttling comment and gave Frankenstein a pleading look. His vindictiveness continued to glimmer in his eyes for a long moment, but it faded and he surprisingly shook his head.

  “I am sorry, but Friedrich is here as a guest, as I am, and it will be his decision whether he disrobes.”

  More whiskey was handed to me and my hand shook as I drank it. I was relieved, but still hated that I had to feel gratitude to Frankenstein for not forcing me to debase myself in front of this group. I handed my once again empty goblet to the same member to pour me more whiskey. As I looked around the room I saw a few small statues and other artifacts that confirmed to me that these people liked to think of themselves as devil worshippers, or at least they liked to play that role. Maybe it was the whiskey, or maybe it was that I desired to show them what frauds they were, but I mentioned how I had spent over two weeks with devil worshippers. That got their attention. Even Frankenstein raised an eyebrow.

  “This was in the Austrian forest. They were holding a black mass at the base of a rock shaped like the Devil’s skull. When I stepped forward they mistook me for Satan, believing they had summoned me forth with their mass.”

  “What happened next?” one of them asked.

  I was handed more whiskey. This time I only took a sip instead of draining the pint that was held in the goblet. “They catered to my every whim,” I said. “After a while I grew tired of it, and them as well, and I sent them to their deaths.”

  A few of them laughed nervously at that. “And how did you do that?” asked one of the pear-shaped men that I had lifted.

  “I directed them to travel to where I knew a nest of vampyres would be waiting.”

  That drew more nervous laughter from them.

  “The stories that this creature tells,” one of them said. “Such an imagination!”

  “Yes, such,” Frankenstein agreed. “Next he’ll be telling us that he’s the dark avenger that London has been whispering about over the last three days. The one who supposedly has recently taken to roaming the dark London streets so that he can injure the villains and other such bandits waiting to prey on the good citizens of this city.”

  I was surprised that these types of stories were already circulating, and although Frankenstein said this with a thin smile, I knew from the hardness in his eyes that he suspected I was this person, as he probably also suspected that my story about the devil worshippers was more than simply my imagination.

  I drank more of the whiskey, and was beginning to feel the effects of it. “The devil worshippers I met might have been despicable,” I said as a scowl twisted my lips, “but at least they were sincere in their practice.”

  “And how so?” one of them asked with a chuckle.

  “Human sacrifices, for example,” I said, my voice breaking into a soft mumble. I looked away from them to stare instead into the bottom of my now almost empty goblet. “They were devoted, I will give them that. Despicable, but devout. They did more than stand about in the safety of a private club and drink whiskey.”

  The club member who had been filling my goblet with whiskey laughed at that. “While we may not perform human sacrifices here, we do more than just drink whiskey. This is only a meeting room. Let me show you more of our club.”

  He led us to the other side of the room and to a set of heavy red curtains, all the while talking excitedly to Frankenstein. When he got to these curtains, he reached into his cape and handed us hickory sticks and then beamed at us.

  “Welcome to Satan’s Paradise,” he announced with a grin. “Nothing quite like this on earth, I guarantee you.”

  “What are these sticks for?” I asked.

  “You’ll see,” he said.

  Frankenstein pushed through the curtains first, and then I followed.

  CHAPTER 25

  We found ourselves in a large cavernous room teeming with club members, guests, and naked girls. Some of these girls wore masks to make them appear as if they were daemons, others had their faces exposed. I heard fluttering above me and saw that bats were flying free in this cavern, but none of the people there seemed bothered by this. Fires also burned by the walls. I lowered my gaze and found myself staring in disbelief at the scene in front of me. Most of the club members and guests sat in majestic armchairs, but if they needed to put their goblets down one of the naked girls would run over, bend to her hands and knees, and allow her back to be used as a table. Other of these naked girls walked around the room, flaunting their bodies to the club members and guests, occasionally bending over so that their bottoms could be flogged with a hickory stick.

  My attention was distracted by club members and guests who came over to gawk at me and to ask Frankenstein questions about my construction. One of them noticed that my goblet was empty and went to refill it. When the goblet was returned I drank the whiskey quickly, hoping to dull my senses to this place. When my gaze wandered around the room, I found myself staring at a scene unfolding before me, not believing my eyes, but sickened nonetheless. One of the club members had lowered his trousers and dropped to his knees so that he could enter one of girls who was acting as a living drink table from behind. As he rocked back and forth to push himself into her, the girl showed no evidence of this happening, not in her expression and not in allowing herself to be moved even an inch.

  The noxious spell holding me was broken by one of the club members elbowing me. “Pity her if she lets as much as a drop of the drink spill,” he said with a wicked grin. “She knows the punishment that will be waiting for her if she does. And, my enormous friend, feel free to make use of any of these girls in the same manner. That’s what they’re here for! Although, I daresay, they’ll have their work cut out to keep from spilling their drinks if you were to have a go at them!”

  I looked away, disgusted that I had ever caught sight of it. It was then that I spotted him. He stood in the shadows, away from the rest of them. Tall, finely dressed, with his black cape and mask signifying him as a club member, and his black boots so expertly polished that they glinted. His body had an angular look to it, like a knife blade, and when I saw his dead pale eyes behind his mask, I recognized what he was. I pushed my way past the crowd that had grown around me so that I could stand next to this solitary figure.

  “Do any of them know what you are?” I asked.

  He turned to glance briefly at me with his dead eyes before fixing his gaze on one of the young girls being used as a drink table. Even in his fine clothing and his immaculate grooming, he held a feral quality. He did not bother answering me.

  “I know what you are because I have seen your kind before,” I said. “I saw them when they ran naked and wild in the forest like animals. That was where they hunted their prey, not in a club for the wealthy and bored.”

  He turned again to look at me. “Why are you bothering me?” he asked.

  “I am simply surprised, that’s all. I did not expect to see a vampyre here, or in London, for that matter, especially one dressed as you are. I am curious. Are there other vampyres like you hiding among men as if they were one of them?”

  “Why, are you jealous that you will never be able to do so?”

  I did not answer him, but neither did I move away from him. I could tell that my presence bothered him.

  “Must you stand by me?” he asked at last, the civility in his voice strained.

  “I am still curious,” I said. “Can you transform into a wolf as your forest cousins did?” A bat swooped close enough nearby that I had to move my head to avoid a collision, and that caused a harsh smile to wrinkle my face. “Was that one of your brethren, or is that only a superstition?”

  When he turned again to me his eyes were dark coals that held burning embers glowing hotly within them. “You have grown very irritating,” he said, his voice the same hiss a snake might make.

  “That may be so,” I said. “But you will not be feasting toni
ght on that young girl whom you have been salivating over.”

  “And what matter is that of yours?”

  “None, but she will not be your victim. At least not tonight.”

  He laughed at that, the sound emanating from him was something icy, something terrible. “You wish her for yourself? Is that what a creature like you feasts on, the flesh of young girls?”

  “Hardly. I prefer berries and mushrooms from the forest.”

  He regarded me coldly, his lips pulling into a tight, bloodless smile. “Then why are you making this an issue?” he asked.

  I did not attempt to answer him, for I wasn’t sure myself why I was doing this.

  “How would you intend to stop me? With force? My strength and speed could surprise you.”

  “Doubtful. I have already witnessed your kind’s speed, and I am sure your strength is equally impressive. But I see no reason to do battle with you, not when I can expose you for what you are to this club. So leave now before I do that.”

  “And you think that would matter to them?”

  “I would think so, yes.”

  A fury exploded in his eyes, but then just as quickly it seemed to burn out, and his eyes were back to the icy, dead, pale things I had seen earlier. He gave me a short nod.

  “Very well,” he said. “I will leave here, for all the good it will do. You don’t think that there are hundreds of young girls out there that I can pick to feed on instead?”

  “That may be, but you will not be feasting on this one.”

  He shook his head at me as if I were something pathetic, but did not argue any further, and I watched as he glided across the room, moving like smoke, and then disappeared through the red curtains. I wondered why I had bothered chasing him away. What I did was futile, and it amounted to little more than flailing away in a ridiculous attempt to prove that I was different from Frankenstein. The more I thought of it the more disgusted I became with myself. It was then that I spotted where the whiskey was being kept, and I moved over there so that I could pour myself enough of it to dull the thoughts that were bombarding my mind. All I wanted then was that, and to blind myself to the scenes that were playing out around me.