The Holmes-Dracula File Fred Saberhagen (feel good fiction books txt) 📖

The young lady giggled, as I continued my cries and groans for help.

   Continued Seward: “As you perceive, things may get just a bit noisy here before we are finished. Don’t let it bother you; and you might just say a word to Jonathan when you go up, so he won’t be perturbed if there are a few yells. As soon as I am able I’ll join you—for dinner, I hope.”

   “I’ll mention it to him.” To my despair I heard her voice begin to fade as she turned away. “But you know Jonathan—nothing perturbs him, or at least nothing has for the past six years.” She started to leave, then turned back. “By the way, I suppose you have no objection to my using your telephone? I wanted to call Arthur and tell him Jonathan and I and the children will be with you tomorrow for the procession. I hope His Lordship has enough seats available.”

   “I’m sure he has—but by all means, call him if you like. And—Mina? Before you go. The—the other night I spoke too quickly. But it was the strength of my feelings that led me—”

   The young woman’s voice grew steely. “I told you, Jack, that if you spoke that way to me again, you should regret it. There is one man whom I love, above all others. And you are not him.” In the next moment she was gone.

   Seward, with the bitter smile of his parting from the lady still on his face, turned back to me, leaving the door ajar. It was a moment before he spoke. “Would you like to try calling for the police again, Watson? As you see, it will avail you absolutely nothing.”

   In a moment, a hulking attendant had appeared silently at the door; I recognized him as the “constable” who had assisted at our abduction, though he had since changed out of his uniform. At Seward’s order our two carts, Holmes’ first and mine following, were wheeled out of the room and across the adjoining corridor. The brief look afforded by this passage convinced me that the building was, or had been, an asylum or hospital of some sort; and the deadly silence of the place indicated we were somewhere outside of London.

   On the other side of the corridor we were wheeled into a somewhat larger chamber, Seward closing and locking the door when we were all in. As we entered, a strange smell assailed my nostrils. At first I thought of open drains, but there was in this stench a peculiar muskiness that quickly brought to mind the idea of an unclean zoo.

   When Seward brought his lamp into the room I saw the animal responsible, and at first could not believe my eyes. Crouched in a metal cage against the farther wall was a creature bigger than a large hound, yet unmistakably a rodent. Its feral eyes gleamed redly at me in the lamplight, and its snout twitched, before it turned away to pace its cage, on feet repulsively naked-looking below the matted fur covering its legs.

   Averting my gaze from this disgusting sight, I saw with mixed sensations that Holmes’ eyelids were now open. His eyes looked flat and lifeless, and they wandered aimlessly, showing the continuing effects of the drug Seward had injected, rather than any understanding of our predicament. Seward set down his lamp upon a table, and now, also seeing that Holmes was awake, came over to offer a light bow. “Mr. Holmes. I am very glad to meet you—I was about to say, even under these unhappy circumstances. But then, from my point of view, it would be easy enough to imagine our meeting under circumstances infinitely worse.”

   Holmes’ eyes moved dreamily to focus on the face which hovered over him. His lips formed a word, scarcely audible: “Who—?”

   Seward smiled again. “You may call me Jack. Why not? We are about to establish a very intimate relationship—unless you, Dr. Watson, are ready now to begin to talk to me? No? Too bad.”

   Our captor walked over to the cage, and there turned back to face us. “Would it surprise you gentlemen to learn that a large part of this animal’s diet is human flesh? Poor Scott, when he caught the beast, was having a difficult time providing its accustomed fare... not a lot of plague victims around just then. As usual, those of us who scrupled less accomplished more—as soon as we had taken over his camp, Scott himself went along the path that you may take. He went rather quickly, however, whereas you will not... and all for the lack of a few words.”

   He paused, looking from one of us to the other. “Well, Mr. Holmes? Come, no need to look so dazed, I know you are awake now. Have you nothing to tell us yet about your work and Scotland Yard’s? For example, where have you been looking for my infected rats? Ah, it is too bad you do not answer, for it means that I must begin to feed Dr. Watson here to the Rat. Campbell, come here and remove the doctor’s shoes. Feet first will be best; that way good old Watson will remain able to join in our conversation. We shall have all night to discuss my questions; my departure for France will not take place until dawn.”

   Another of the burly attendants had now come into the room, and with the one already present started to take off my boots. Looking down past my own feet, I could see the slavering animal pacing in its cage. Holmes’ voice, in the form of an unrecognizable croak, now issued at last from his parched lips. “Why not... to the fleas?”

   Seward frowned; evidently this particular reaction was not one he had anticipated. “But my dear sir, surely you realize that the time for experiments with fleas is past?... I see, you pretend ignorance so