15th January, 1908
6am
The patient, having been brought into my appartment at approximately 4am, is still unconcious. Preliminary investigations reveal the patient to be male, around six-foot four and two hundred pounds. I have examimed, cleaned and dressed any superficial wounds, of which there were nine, mostly concentrated on the forearms and chest. The most obvious injury, however is the shallow inscision in his neck. The flesh is inflamed, although there is no sign of infection. It can be speculated that some kind of toxin was delivered at the site of the injury, the nature of which is unknown for now. Precautionary wearing of a mask and gloves is now in effect.
11am
The patient is now awake. He tells me his name is Luis, and that he belongs to a group known as "Los Campaneros," meaning "Bell-bearers". He seems in good spirits, albeit with joint stiffness and a headache. Given he has no knowledge of why he passed out, I will be keeping him under observation for the time being. I will question him further in regards to Los Campaneros at a later stage.
1pm
The patient is experiencing mild fever and the skin is tender almost all over his body. Despite this he seems alert and in no major distress. I administered some asprin to help with the discomfort. The body is likely attempting to flush any remaining poison, and I expect this to pass within twenty-four hours. Luis has been pleasant and co-operative throughout the process, and has answered any questions I asked.
Los Campaneros, it would seem, are a splinter faction of the Catholic Church, specifically, The Supreme Sacred Congregation of the Roman and Universal Inquisition, once known as the Spanish Inquisition. This group is tasked with the elimination of supernatural or heretical beings that posed a threat to either the church or humanity as a whole. While I would be hesitant to believe such things, among his possessions I found a silver bell necklace, rosary beads, what appeared to be a papal writ, and a small reliquary, containing a saint's metacarpal.
Luis also confided in me that he meant me no harm, despute the fact I was a vampire, as I had aided him and posed no apparent threat to human life. I was taken aback by such a statement, but given the events of the last day, my condition could be easily categorised as such. I wished to ask him more on tbe topic of vampires, but he asked to rest until his headache passed.
5pm
The patient has little appetite, and only ate a small amount of the food I'd given him, consisting of mashed potato, a small piece of cheese, and a slice of beef. The hedache has persisted, as has the immune reaction to the poison, now accompanied by a mild fever. This is to be expected, and I still optimistic that he'll pull through with no permanent damage.
Following dinner, he discussed the creatures he'd been hunting, alongside vampires. The creatures were called Deep Ones, and were a race of sentient, pelagic creatures, all of which were once human, but transformed by unknown means. They existed in small pockets along coastlines, and sometimes in estuaries, although large colonies were known to exist in both the Atlantic and Pacific oceans. They had no known motives, but were reputed to kidnap and consume humans, as well as occasionally attack ships.
Vampires, on the other hand, were solitary creatures in many cases, and they were as varied as the humans that they once were. Vampire "bloodlines" all carried their flaws and boons, with the most famous boodline being that of the Draconic Sept, in no small part due to the influence of Vlad Tepes, a valuable ally of the inquisition.
He slept again at 7pm, and slept through the night, although fitfully, as if experiencing some kind of nightmare. I felt no inclination toward sleep, perhaps a benefit of my condition. As such I was able to remain active, observing him for any sudden changes during the night.
16th January, 1908
11am
The patient awoke, and reported having experienced nightmares of the Deep Ones. This was to be expected, given the psychological disturbance the incident would have caused. While not a neurologist, I could appreciate the merit in the work of Freud in linking traumatic incidents to neurological damage.
12pm
The patient seems somewhat withdrawn today, speaking less than usual and suffering from some kind of nervous affliction, blinking less than I'd expect. Upon the inspection of his neck wound, I noted the formation of a silvery membrane, although no obvious infection was present. The patient also seems to be suffering from a form of skin inflamation, indicating an allergy to whatever was in the paralytic venom.
From what i could glean from my conversation with Luis, psychic phenomena were real, and intrinsically linked to the supernatural, the supernatural being the basis of most ancient myths, and even some religions. Vampires for instance, bore an innate "pariah effect" that shielded them from certain mental assaults and even disrupted the psychic abilities of others, which is why the Deep One had been thrown into seizure by my bite.
5pm
The patient is in poor humour, and keeps demanding more water. I am supplying him as best I can, as with his fever he should stay hydrated. I do worry though, as his skin is becoming discoloured, as if bruised. Little can be done, other than managing his symptoms, and I can't risk exposing him or myself to those in the hospital until our conditions could be understood.
11pm
The patient emerges from sleep screaming of the Deep Ones, before seemingly blacking out again. Given his incoherence, I would guess he isn't fully concious during these episodes. I administered a dose of opium to lessen these, which seemed to work well enough in pacifying him, as well as bring down his fever. Unsettlingly, however, his eyes bulge too much to properly close, making him look as if he is dead, despite the fact he's still breathing. I fear this ailment may be more than a simple allergic reaction.
17th January
8am
The patient is exhibiting signs of respitory distress and fluid retention. His breathing has become strained, with a dry cough indicating a lack of mucus in the lungs. Swelling in the torso and limbs has occured, although has not worsened in the last three hours. The opium is yet to wear off, although I may have to re-administer it, as the discolouration of flesh has worsened, and sores may form if improperly managed. I moved him into the bath, with the head secured above water in the hopes of lessening the symptoms.
11am
The patient has awoken and once again although, his personality seems somewhat different. He slides in and out of fits of paranoia, claiming that "he doesn't want to turn" and asking me to kill him. When questioned as to what he meant, he devolved into gibbering mania, referencing seemingly fictional creatures and locations. I find the sound of flowing water has a calming effect, and I administered further opium to ease his mental state. Tooth loss is occuring at a rapid rate, with curiously little blood loss. I can't identify a reason for this change, as his gums show no sign of disease or inflammation.
2pm
The patient's flesh is entirely now discoloured, with layers beginning to slough off at joints. Underneath, there is a scale-like structure. Fingernails and hair have begun to fall out, revealling further scaly skin. I fear I understand what Luis meant by telling me he didn't want to turn. Curiously, my own condition hadn't worsened at all, despite my exposure to equal opportunity of infection. Perhaps my condition affords me immunity to such vile diseases. Luis' eyes are now permanently open, and growing more glassy and fishlike. I am torn. I know that Deep Ones present a real and existential threat to anyone they come into contact with, yet I am obligated to care for my patient.
5pm
I have drawn a sample of Luis' blood. The smell and colouration of the blood is consistent with that of a Deep One. I've kept him sedated, as his body further contorts and morphs into one of those... things. His skin is nearly entirely transformed into scales. His fever has all but subsided, and I can see fins developing under his skin along the arms and spine. Folding of skin on the neck implies the development of gill structures. Claws are beginning to break the skin of his fingertips, and his newly grown teeth are triangular and serrated.
10pm
Luis, or at least the thing that was Luis is dead. I had been inspecting Luis' personal effects, and had dismantled his firearm, as it was quite unlike anything I'd seen before. It seemed to be some modification of a New Haven Arms Volcanic Pistol. The lever mechanism has been extensively reworked to allow the weapon to be operated single-handed, and accept more powerful ammunition. The weapon had considerable bulk, perhaps weighing three pounds.
As I moved onto his dagger, which was a stiletto-like weapon with a silver crossguard I heard a thud on the floor of the bathroom, followed by thick, wet footsteps. I stood up, instinctively taking up the dagger in one hand. In an almighty crash, knocking my bathroom door off its hinges, splintering wood on the floor. A near-fully formed Deep One emerged, taking jerky, hopping steps as in sniffed the air for prey, bulbous nostrils flaring with each breath.
Slowly, it turned its thick neck to face me. There was no humanity in the creature's eyes. It launched itself at me, gurgling in that eldritch, disgusting language. I hadn't processed the shock of seeing my patient so utterly changed, as the thing that used to be Luis fell upon me. I waited for the embrace of the creature's jaw on my throat. Instead, it stiffened and juddered in pain. He had fallen on his own dagger. I hadn't realised that I'd poised the blade to stab it. I pushed the creature off me, holding the blood-slick dagger in one hand.
The creature flopped and skittered for a moment, before striking again. Instinct took over, and I dodged the attack and struck the creature in the heart, and struck again, again in its cruel heart. It toppled to the ground, and I knelt beside it, delivering the coup de grace, snuffing out the creature that had overtaken Luis' life. Once the creature stopped twitching, I withdrew the blade, and wrapped the carcass in an old sheet. I'd have to dispose of it, preferrably at the waterfront. It was night-time, so it'd be best do so now. Oddly, I felt nothing, save for the uncomfortable buzz of adrenaline. Throwing the pelagic mass over one shoulder, I made my way back to the docks, dumping the body into the water. Nothing emerged this time, thankfully.
I went home after that, and cleaned up the mess left by the struggle. The bathroom door was useless now, and had to be dumped. In the quiet hours following the incident, I examined Luis' posessions, finding a notebook, a wedding band and pocketwatch, among a handful of other trinkets and some money in a satchel, alongside that which I'd already examined.
On the inside of the pocketwatch, there was a photograph of Luis and his wife on their wedding day. It was yet to fade at all, indicating its recency. The notebook contained an address for a London appartment and a telephone number. I vaguely recognised the address, it was near Parliment Square, in an expensive appartment block.
A sudden heavy feeling came over me. These things, they'd belonged to one of my patients. The patient I could do nothing to help. The world blackened around me. With shaking hands, I boxed up his personal effects, fighting back the encroaching tendrils in my mind. I didn't want to revisit that memory, not again. Once I had packed all if Luis' things and left them.by the door, I could bear it no longer. I collapsed to the ground, gasping for air, my body refusing to obey my will.
I was back in Dublin. The year was 1901.