Callum sat at the tavern counter, sipping on his tankard of ale with his dinner in front of him. It was relatively quiet that night, and he was frustrated.
He was tired of going back and forth between Van and the Count, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. What was he missing? Was there something he wasn’t seeing? Was it Bram, like Van had said?
All he knew was that all the victims had the same experiences with the Bloodsucker. But how did he pick his targets? There was no clear motive… nothing to connect any of those who had died.
There hadn’t been anything new regarding the Bloodsucker since Abraham was killed, and Callum wasn’t having strange dreams anymore. The town had gotten eerily quiet ever since Bram came to town for the first time in years. Was the killer unnerved by the Count’s presence?
“Mr. Harker.” John’s firm voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He was standing by the kitchen with the phone in his hand. “Phone is for you.”
Callum sighed as he stood. Who would be calling him so late in the evening? He was sure the Count had better things to do, and he was the only other one in town with a phone.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Cal! How’s the investigation going?”
“Quinn Murray, what the hell have you gotten me into?” Callum hissed into the phone, trying to keep his voice down. “This whole place is out of control. I’ve got the doctor accusing the Count, the Count accusing the doctor, people dying… I even had an old fortuneteller say there’s vampires after me, after her granddaughter tried to court me.”
Quinn laughed, but Callum wasn’t smiling. He was supposed to catch a killer, not entertain the locals.
“Well, you said you were bored with your job,” Quinn told him. “Is the doctor just as eccentric as his letters?”
“Yes! There’s gotta be someone in this backwards town that isn’t completely caught up in his crazed superstitions, but I haven’t found anyone yet.”
“Well… keep me updated, if you can. I’m still trying to get the boss to let me head out there for a few days. I just need to convince him that I’m needed.”
“People are being murdered in their beds in the night,” Callum stated. “How much convincing do they need?”
When Callum returned to his seat, John approached him and refilled his tankard.
“Mr. Harker… If you’re looking for someone who doesn’t listen to Helsing, I may be able to help you.”
“I’m listening,” he said as he lit a cigarette. “Some other lunatic, I suppose?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” John told him, and Callum sighed in defeat. “He lives way out past Helsing’s, on the edge of the cliffs. He comes to the town as infrequently as the Count. If there was anyone I could think of that might be involved in the recent murders, or who might be stealing Helsing’s tools to do it, it'd be Renfield.”
“Renfield, huh?” He took a long drag of his cigarette. “I guess it’s at least worth a conversation. Not like anyone else has given me much of anything to work with.”
“I know the people here may seem… eccentric… but they mean well, Mr. Harker. We’re a small town, and we’re all just trying our best to survive.”
“I know, I know.” Callum sighed again. “I’m sorry. I just… Well, I thought I was here to catch a murderer, and all I’ve heard about since I got off that train is vampires.”
Bram accompanied Callum when he went to see Renfield. He’d insisted on sitting in on the interviews to try to help, so he’d invited him to tag along.
Renfield lived in a small cottage, even smaller than Van’s, and it was on the far outskirts of town. It sat a way’s down on the cliffs in an even more precarious spot too.
Callum practically held his breath as they made their way along the slick, rocky path down the cliffs in the pouring rain. None of it felt safe or steady, the rocks occasionally shifting under his feet or his shoes slipping, but he had to interview the man. If he waited until the weather got better, he’d never get to talk to him. Plus, he was one of the only people in town he hadn’t spoken to yet.
According to Van and John, the man was a self-proclaimed vampire expert. He was more of a recluse than Bram, and no one knew what he did most days. The only real consensus about the man was that he was a complete lunatic.
“Is this really necessary?” Bram asked, eyeing the edge of the road. It was a long way down… not a fall that anyone could possibly survive. “You’re risking your life trying to get information out of some madman?”
“At least five people are dead, Mr. Shelley,” Callum said. “This is the least I can do to help this town.”
As they neared the cottage, part of the path shifted under Callum’s foot, before completely giving way.
He couldn’t react fast enough, and he found himself staring down at the rough ocean waves, crashing against the rocky cliffs, his feet dangling below him. He didn’t even fully grasp the situation until he realized that he wasn’t falling.
Bram had a firm grip under his arm, and he quickly pulled him up onto the path like he weighed nothing, backing up against the rocky wall, as far from the edge as they could get.
Callum was shaking, his breath coming out in quick raspy huffs, and he clung to the front of Bram’s jacket so tightly that his knuckles were white.
“Are you all right?” Bram asked. He had his arms wrapped around Callum’s back, and looked over him with concern, afraid he might collapse if he let him go. Callum simply nodded, but didn’t speak, and he certainly didn’t look all right. He was pale and shaky. “Are you sure?”
“Just… give me a moment.”
They were both silent, and Callum eventually calmed, taking a deep breath. He finally realized just how close they were, his body pressed against Bram while he held him firmly, and his face went red before he pulled away.
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He turned his attention back to the task at hand while doing his best to calm his racing heart. This time, he kept close to the cliffs and away from the edge of the path, no matter how sturdy it felt under his feet.
The little wooden cottage was quaint. Rainwater dripped off the corners of the roof and onto piles of buckets or garden tools that were rusty as though they hadn’t been used in years, and the windows were dark and dusty-looking. Did anyone even still live there?
“Be careful,” Callum warned. “From what I’ve heard, this man is an actual lunatic, with the potential to end up at the top of the list of suspects.”
“Don’t worry about me,” Bram told him, with more confidence than Callum could ever possibly muster for himself.
He knocked on the door, but the cottage was dark and quiet. It made him a bit nervous. He knocked again, louder this time, and wait, then let out a heavy sigh. Had he really gone all the way out there for nothing?
“Let’s go,” he said as he turned away, but then they heard the click of a lock. The door opened, just barely enough for a man to peer out from the darkness.
“Who are you? What do you want?”
“My name is Callum Harker,” Callum said, showing his badge. “I’m an investigator from the Capital City, looking into the recent happenings in Umbra Harbor. I’m here with the Count, as well. Do you have a moment?”
He eyed Callum suspiciously, but when he looked at Bram, his entire demeanor changed. He looked almost elated, and quickly opened the door to usher them in. As they entered, he rushed around the room, lighting every candle and lamp around them. The room was ice cold, and Callum shivered, but Bram didn’t seem bothered by it at all.
“Finally,” the man said, standing in front of them. The orange glow from the candles around them made him seem even more crazed than Callum had expected. His hazel eyes were wide with excitement, focused on Bram, and he had unkempt hair and old, dirty clothing that hung off his emaciated frame. When he grinned, he revealed jagged, misshaped teeth, like he’d filed them all into fangs. “I’ve waited years for this moment. I finally have my chance to be Turned.”
“Excuse me?” Bram raised an eyebrow at the man. “We’ve looking for a murderer, not chasing flights of fancy.”
There were shelves and shelves off books shoved into every free space, even in the kitchen, and strange items cluttered the cottage. There were tools Callum had never seen, animal skulls, and stacks of paper strewn across every surface, some even on the floor, many of them stained with unknown substances.
“Doctor Helsing said that you’re a self-proclaimed vampire expert,” Callum said, eyeing a jar of preserved tadpoles. What could anyone need those for?
“Helsing?” Renfield made a noise of disgust and spat on the floor. “That man is the worst thing to ever happen to this place. He’s made it his life’s work to hunt and kill vampires, and for what? To make the master race extinct for the sake of mortals.”
“You think vampires are the master race?”
“Of course I do!” he grabbed a book off of a shelf, frantically flipping through the pages. It was in a language that Callum didn’t recognize, similar to the one Jasper had given him. It had many graphic depictions of vampires and their victims, and some of the pages were stained with something that looked suspiciously like dry blood. “Humans have always believed themselves to be resting atop the food chain, thinking they’re untouchable. But they’re just prey, and can never achieve what a Bloodsucker could. They have power mortals can only dream of.”
“What kind of power?” Callum asked. “What might someone gain from the consumption of blood?”
“Extraordinary strength and speed, the ability to transform into a colony of bats, a powerful, inhuman form… Not to mention their eternal youth and invulnerability. They’re perfect hunting machines, and humans are easy prey.”
“If I wanted to listen to a madman rant about vampires, I’d go hang around Helsing,” Bram muttered quietly. He looked utterly disgusted with Renfield and his cottage.
“Do you mind if I take a look around?” Callum asked, and Renfield just shrugged. “I’ll start outside, if you don’t mind. I need a smoke.”
Bram sighed and chewed his fingernails while he watched Callum from the kitchen window. He was pacing outside while he smoked, something he noticed he only seemed to do when he was feeling particularly stressed.
He supposed he was just as stressed. It had been weeks, and Callum had made no progress in his investigation, no thanks to Van Helsing’s fearmongering and the mass hysteria it caused. He’d come to see just how dire the situation was. Umbra Harbor was under siege, and they were thus far helpless to stop it. Two women and three men had already been killed. How many more would die? What could he do without the citizens of his county?
“I know what you are,” Renfield said from the doorway, and Bram closed the kitchen curtain and turned to face him.
“Excuse me?”
“You might have everyone else fooled, but I know you.” He took a threatening step in Bram’s direction, a wild look in his eyes. “I’ve waited years to finally meet you, and here you are, pretending to be normal for the sake of some bastard from the Capital City. Why waste your time with weak humans? And Helsing? You of all people should know to stay away from him.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bram said. He took a step back every time Renfield moved closer, eyeing him cautiously. “You’ve lived in seclusion for too long.”
“You’ve been secluded longer than I have!” he snapped, brandishing a large hunting knife. “I’ve thrived on the blood of animals around here for years, but now I have you. I can finally ascend to become part of the master race.”
“You’re a lunatic.” Bram eyed the knife but stood his ground. “What could anyone possibly gain from consuming blood? You’re sick, and that’s probably why.”
“I’m not sick! I’m not crazy!”
Renfield lunged at him with the knife, but Bram caught him by the wrist and threw him aside, against the kitchen counter. He slammed his face down on it before letting the man drop to the floor.
“Don’t start a fight you can’t win, Mr. Renfield.” Bram eyed the knife on the floor before he kicked it out of his reach.
He tried to grab Bram by the leg, but he kicked him in the face and backed away.
“Keep your filthy hands off of me,” he said, his voice like a low growl.
Before either of them could say or do anything else, Callum came rushing back inside.
“What’s going on in here? I heard a crash.” He saw Renfield on the floor, clutching his bloody nose, and Bram was standing over him. “What the hell happened?”
“You won’t get anything you need from this man,” Bram said, sounding a bit breathless. Had they been fighting? “He’s not the Bloodsucker—he’s delusional and violent. There’s no way this is the person who seduced and killed all those people.”
Callum was quiet, confused by the situation. What had he missed? He sighed, though. He agreed, to an extent, but hadn’t decided for sure if Renfield was totally innocent. Even if he wasn’t the Bloodsucker, he could be an accomplice, especially being well-verse in methods of draining blood from animals.
“Let’s go,” Bram said, straightening his tie. He turned towards the door, but Renfield lunged forward and grabbed him by the arm.
Bram cried out in pain. Renfield had bitten down hard, his awful, misshapen teeth cutting through cloth and flesh. Bram’s blood ran down his arm while he lapped at the wound like a starving animal.
“Get off of me!” Bram grabbed the man by the back of the neck before tossing him across the kitchen like he didn’t weight anything. The man slammed against the wall and collapsed to the floor, Bram’s blood covering his face.
“Are you all right?” Callum eyed Renfield cautiously while he gripped Bram’s uninjured arm. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
“You go,” Bram said as he smoothed the front of his vest. He seemed unusually calm for what had just happened. “I think Mr. Renfield and I need to have a little chat.”
“Are you sure?” Callum glanced down at Bram’s arm. The sleeve of his nice shirt was torn up, and blood ran down his fingers and dripped onto the floor. “You should get that taken care of quickly.”
“I’m all right. I’ll meet you back in town when I’m done here.”
Callum sighed. He didn’t want to leave him alone with Renfield, but Bram was the Count. He was pretty much allowed to do anything he wanted. It was his county, after all. Still….
“All right,” he said with a defeated breath. He scowled at Renfield with disgust. “Just be careful. Please.”
He had a terrible sinking feeling in his stomach. Renfield was laughing and licking Bram’s blood off his lips. There was nothing he could do, though. He had no choice but to listen to Bram, who crouched down in front of Renfield as he left.