I double-checked that Luis' knife and pistol were still securely tucked under my coat as I left my appartment building. When hunting down depraved criminals, one would expect the slums to be the most reasonable place to start, but in my experience, truly horrific excuses for humans were actually sequestered in the wealthier districts by day, crawling out by night to ply their trade. How did I know? People lie, all the time, but their bruises, their wounds I'd been stitching up for years? They never did. One instance of a serving-girl getting a nasty fall, sure. Three in two months, with bruising concentrated on the forearms, not so much. My suspicions were strengthened by the needle-tracks in her employer, Mr. Stebbing's arm, and the poorly covered smell of alcohol. The final nail in the coffin was the contusions on his hands, and foul temper even with hospital staff.
Her name was Edith, or something like that. Where was she from? Lambeth, Cardigan Street, that was it. She was a timid woman, perhaps twenty years old, when I last saw her about a year ago. It was beginning to drizzle by the time I turned onto the right street. My hearing, although dulled by the rain, was still sharp enough to hear the movements within individual houses. I didn't know the house number, but I did distinctly remember Edith's voice, and that of her employer. There was no garuntee either of them were here, but if there were ever justifiable prey, it was Mr. Stebbing.
Just then, I heard the drunken slurring of Mr. Stebbing, three houses down. A glass shattered, and a woman shrieked. Without thinking, I sprinted down the street, clambering to the second-storey window where the noise was closest to. I barely had time to register the fact that I'd scaled a wall bare-handed, with relative ease. I wasted no time in opening the sash window by way of ripping it up, breaking the lock and frame as I did.
Climbing in, I found myself in a guest bedroom, kept spotless by cleaning staff. Moving into the hall, I drew my Yellow Sign Talisman, pushing open the door to the Master bedroom, the source of the noise. Surely enough Mr. Stebbing was there, broken bottle in hand. Cowering at his feet was a woman, in the attire of a servant, who clung tight to a crying child, perhaps six or seven years of age. I could smell opium and alcohol, from Mr. Stebbing, and blood on the other two.
I pushed between the two and their agressor as he swung down, bottle in hand. The bottle shattered against my forearm, not even piercing my winter coat. Mr, Stebbing was a pathetic, hideous sight, glazen-eyed and bloated, he wasn't unlike a Deep One. Riddled doubly by apparent syphillis. Was it possible? Luis had mentioned humans interbred with Deep Ones, producing humanlike hybrids, that transformed upon reaching about sixty years of age.
That smell... that musky stewing of human and pelagic filth. He was changing he probably didn't even realise. I had little sympathy either way. Looking behind me, I saw that it was indeed Edith that had been subject to the beating, on behalf of this little boy. "Get out!" I shouted.
Edith tried to stand, but couldn't put any weight on her left leg. The boy, however, did run. I could smell a fresh flow of blood from her leg. "Shit." I grunted. I stood up and felt cold rage solidify in my spine. I faced Mr. Stebbing, who already had begun tottering toward me once again. I lunged in, delivering a swift punch to his lower jaw. It came clean off. The rot of syphillis, alongside the force of my punch, had removed his mandible entirely. His tongue hung in the void where his mouth had been. The injury didn't even register with him, thick blood leaking like a waterfall from the wound.
I hit him again, this time into the face. I felt his skull crack and shatter like pottery beneath my fist. He fell, definitely dead. Feeding would have to wait. I went to Edith's side, seeing a gash on her leg spurting bright red blood. The bottle had nicked her femoral artery. I drew one of the throwing knives and ripped the sleeve off my shirt, making an improvised tourniquet, and tightening it. "I'd advise keeping your eyes open, stay with me." Judging by the existing volume of blood on the floor, and her other injuries, at a glance, I was already too late.
"Hey!" I snapped, as her eyes began to glaze over. "Fuck!" I secured the tourniquet and shook her. "Come on, you have to stay with me!" Her breathing was becoming weaker and shallower, and her heart was beginning to bleed dry.
I wasn't losing another patient.
I took a needle from Mr. Stebbing's bedside, and slashed my palm with Luis' silver blade. I filled the resivoir with my blood. It was a long shot, but it might just work. "Not again." I said, kneeling and finding her carotid. "Never again!" I said as I plunged the needle in, delivering a dose of my own blood into her. There was an apparent response to the injection, although she was still on death's door. More blood. I refilled the syringe and injected three times more, watching as her wounds began to seal up, steaming just like mine had.
Her breathing resumed, and her heartbeat grew stronger. I laid her aside, I myself shaking, and my vision blurred. I gorged myself shamelessly on Mr. Stebbing's blood, letting it reinvigorate me, despite the foul aftertaste. I looked over at Edith, who was now apparently regaining conciousness. She sat up, clearly horrified and ashen of face. "Who..." she croaked.
"Dr. Connors. I... you were being attacked. Are you alright?" I said. She shuffled away on the floor, hands over her mouth in shock. I remembered I was covered in blood, and had the shattered body of her master behind me.
Wiping my mouth, I put my hands up in a gesture of peace. "I mean you no harm, you nearly died."
"I know you..." she gasped. "You're that doctor..." She lowered her hands. "But you died. I signed the book of condolences, how are you..."
"I'm not sure myself. Edith, wasn't it?" I asked, relaxing a little.
"Yes. Edith Drew. Is he..." she asked, pointing toward the body of Mr. Stebbing.
"Yes."
"Good." She said, wiping the tears from her face.
"To save you, I had to employ an...unconventional technique. Please understand it was a last resort." I blurted.
"What do you mean? I'm grateful to be alive, but how did you do it? I saw the light, and honestly, I thought I was gone." She quizzed me.
"Alright. Here it is. I think I've turned you into a vampire."