Callum waited over a week to hear from Bram about setting up an office in town, but the call never came. It was a bit frustrating, especially since he’d said he wanted to help. He hadn’t questioned anyone else yet, and he felt like they were wasting precious time. What if the Bloodsucker decided to strike again? What if he finally decided to come for Callum?
He sat at the tavern counter, drinking the night away. Not like there was anything else to do. It was the first time he gave himself a chance to relax, after being so wrapped up in the Bloodsucker case. The town had been calm, albeit a little uneasy, and there were no new sightings or attacks. Callum didn’t have any strange visions or dreams either.
He was on his third ale when the tavern phone rang. It was back near the kitchen, so he couldn’t hear what John was saying, but he kept looking over at Callum. Was someone asking about him? Had the Bloodsucker returned?
“Call’s for you, Mr. Harker,” John said, holding up the phone. Callum sighed and stood, a bit unsteady on his feet, and staggered over to the back where John was waiting.
“This is Callum Harker,” he said, leaning heavily against the doorway to the kitchen.
“Good evening, Mr. Harker,” a familiar voice answered. “I wanted to let you know that I was able to procure a small office for you to conduct your business. You’re acquainted with the librarian, Mr. Morris, I assume?”
“I am.”
“I’ve arranged for you to work out of a space in the library. I’ll be coming to town in the morning for you to—”
“Are you sure that’s all right?” Callum blurted, and Bram fell silent. “I mean… with your condition and all. How are you feeling?”
Bram laughed softly, and it sent a strange chill across Callum’s skin.
“Are you worried about me, Mr. Harker? You’re the one in a strange town all alone, while people are being murdered around you. I think I can muster the energy to help you.”
“Just don’t push yourself,” he told him, and Bram laughed again. It wasn’t a loud, mocking laugh. It seemed more like a show of endearment. “Do I amuse you, Mr. Shelley?”
“Your unyielding concern for the well-being of everyone but yourself is captivating. Have a good evening, Mr. Harker. Try not to drink too much.”
Callum put the phone down and sighed, then returned to his seat at the counter. He finished off his drink, leaving the empty tankard in front of him.
“Something wrong, Mr. Harker?” John questioned. “The Count doesn’t call here often—it must have been important.”
“Not particularly.” Callum lit a cigarette while John refilled his ale. “I’m going to be working out of the library starting tomorrow, apparently. If you know anyone who might want to talk about the Bloodsucker, that’s where they can find me.”
Callum sat at the tavern table in the corner with his head in his hands, his untouched breakfast and coffee in front of him. He regretted drinking so much the night before, and getting up so early to meet with Bram.
“Rough night, Mr. Harker?”
His head snapped up to find the Count standing in front of the table. The whole tavern had gone silent, everyone staring curiously at Bram, who seemed not to notice.
“Mr. Shelley…” He gestured to the chair across from him, but Bram shook his head. “This is your first time in town in years, isn’t it? What’s the rush?”
“You should know by now that I’m not exactly a social person, Mr. Harker,” he said, straightening his tie. “I’d prefer to get straight to business.”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to wait,” Callum told him, picking up his fork. “I haven’t eaten my breakfast yet, and Eliza went through all the trouble to make it for me. I’d hate to waste it.”
Bram sighed, but there was a hint of a smirk, tugging at the corner of his mouth. He sat down without arguing, and simply watched Callum eat in silence.
Callum glanced up at the tavern windows. The sky was gloomy, just like every other day, but it wasn’t dark out. From what he could recall about Van’s wild ranting, vampires couldn’t come out during the day. So, if Bram really was the Bloodsucker, at least he was human. Callum could handle mortal men.
“I expected your call much sooner,” he told Bram. He took a large gulp of coffee and sighed. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten me.”
“Now, how could I do that?” Bram folded his hands and leaned in with his same old devilish smirk. “Did you miss me, Mr. Harker?”
Before Callum could respond, the smile of Bram’s face vanished, and he leapt up from his seat just in time to catch the fist of one of the tavern patrons, only a few inches from his face.
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He was relatively young, and Callum had never spoken to him before. He had learned from Lucy that his name was William Holmwood, and he was a regular patron of the tavern. He’d recently earned a reputation as the town drunkard, after his brother had been killed by the Bloodsucker.
From what Callum could recall from Van’s pile of letters, William’s brother was the first male victim of the Bloodsucker, and had died shortly after Wilhelmina, but before Oliver. He had been killed on the road outside of the town borders, however, on his way home from a festival in a distant county where their parents lived. William hadn’t been with him because he’d been at home in Umbra Harbor, bedridden with typhus for two weeks.
“Do you need something?” Bram asked, and the deep, serious tone in his voice made Callum nervous. Perhaps Bram was more dangerous than he appeared. He wasn’t smiling anymore, and the young man struggled to pull his hand free, but Bram’s grip was firm. He towered over the man, and the look on his face made Callum’s heart race.
“You’ve got a lot of nerve, showing up here,” William growled through clenched teeth. “People have been getting murdered for months, and now you finally decide to show your face? You’re supposed to protect us!”
“I’m well aware of the situation. Mr. Harker here has filled me in on most of the details, and I’m working closely with him to find the culprit and deal with them accordingly.”
“Don’t make me laugh!” William tried to strike with his other fist, but Bram slapped it away like it was nothing before shoving the man away from him. He drunkenly stumbled back and hit a chair, and it only made William more upset. “You haven’t been here in years—don’t act like you suddenly give a damn about us now! My brother is dead because you’ve done nothing!”
“I know you’re hurt and upset, but don’t start a fight you can’t win,” Bram warned, and he waved the man away. “Go back to your drinking, and let Mr. Harker and I handle it.”
William’s shoulders dropped in defeat as he rubbed the hand that Bram had grabbed. He still looked angry, but tears welled up in his eyes, and he kept his gaze averted.
“Mr. Holmwood,” Callum interrupted, and both Bram and William turned their attention to him. “I know you’re frustrated with the current situation in Umbra Harbor, and I am sorry for your loss, truly… but please, let me take care of it. I came here to help you, and that’s what I intend to do, with Mr. Shelley’s assistance.”
“Fine,” William spat, shooting a scowl in Bram’s direction. “I don’t like this, but I won’t interfere. When this is all said and done, you’d better start taking proper care of this town.”
The man went back to his seat at the counter without another word, downing his entire tankard of ale before slamming it down for a refill. Callum sighed and finished his coffee before getting up from the table.
“Let’s go,” he said, “before more unhappy citizens try to get involved.”
The office in the back of the library was about twice the size of Callum’s back in the Capital City. There was a desk and some bookshelves, as well as a cabinet for files, and a few extra chairs and a couch in front of a small fireplace. There wasn’t much of a view outside the window behind the desk, as the back of the library faced the forest, but there was a cool breeze that rustled the curtains.
“This is… nice,” Callum said, looking around the room. “How much is it going to cost me, though?”
“Nothing,” Bram told him. He was standing in the doorway with his arms crossed, leaning against the frame. “I’ve made all the necessary arrangements with Mr. Morris—all you need to do is let him know what you need to do your work.”
“So, you’re paying for it?” Callum questioned with a smirk. “Why is that? A guilty conscience?”
“Do you think I’d feel guilty if I killed those people?” Bram asked, and the look on his face made Callum frown. “If I were murdering people for blood, why even bother staying in a small town like this? Sure, it might be easy for a while, but the more people die, the more guarded the others become, and the more likely it would be to get caught.”
“You seem to have give quite a bit of thought to this.” Callum sat at his desk with a sigh and leaned back in the chair.
“I’m just saying,” Bram said with a shrug, “if this ‘Bloodsucker’ lived up to his name, needing blood to live, why kill the victims? It’s not like it’s easy to pack up their entire lives and go somewhere else on a whim. Why not just feed off them and let them be?”
“I wish I had the answers.” Callum rubbed the back of his neck. “Or at least more proof that could lead me to the culprit.”
“May I see the last place the Bloodsucker attacked?”
Bram stood at the foot of Abraham’s bed, looking around curiously. The body had been removed, but the room wasn’t cleaned up. The blood-stained sheets still remained, and the balcony door were still open, the curtains fluttering in the cold breeze.
“How did Abraham die?”
“The Bloodsucker seduced him,” Callum explained, handing Bram a small stack of photos that Van had taken before he removed the body. “They slept together. After that, he murdered him in his bed.”
Bram had a disgusted scowl on his face as flipped through the gruesome pictures. He handed them back to Callum and sighed.
“Even with those injures,” he questioned, pointing at the top photo of the wounds on Abraham’s body, “you still think the Bloodsucker is human?”
“Why not? I’ve seen some women who keep their nails quite long in the Capital City. They could do that kind of damage if they really tried.”
“Speaking from experience?” Bram asked with a smirk, and Callum’s face got hot. He lowered his gaze quickly.
“Of course not. I’m not interested in that kind of thing.”
“Not interested in sex? Or not interested in women?”
“I don’t think that’s relevant to the situation, is it, Mr. Shelley?” He was sure his face was bright red. “You said you wanted to see the crime scene, and here we are.”
“Well…” Bram stuck his hands in his pockets and let out a loud sigh, glancing at the blood-stained bedsheets. “If it is a human, they’re quite dedicated to the whole ‘Bloodsucker’ thing, aren’t they? I can see why Helsing is so convinced that vampires are real. The bites, the claw marks, draining victims of their blood… everything points to a vampire, doesn’t it?”
“Vampires aren’t real, Mr. Shelley. You told me yourself not to feed into Van’s ideology on the supernatural.”
“Oh, believe me, I’m not.” Bram sat in the chair beside Abraham’s bed and folded his hands on his lap. “Tell me, Mr. Harker… do you know what the process is for preparing a body for burial?”
“No.” Callum gave the Count a curious look. What was he suggesting? “What does that have to do with anything?”
“There is an instrument that you have to use to drain the blood from a corpse,” he explained. He tapped two fingers against the side of his neck. “All of the victims have been drained of their blood, haven’t they?”
“Right… That’s why everyone thinks it’s a vampire, and why Helsing is…”
Callum’s voice trailed off. Van was the only doctor in town, and he was also Umbra Harbor’s mortician. If anyone would have the tools to drain blood from a body, it would be Van. Was Bram suggesting that Van Helsing was really the Bloodsucker?
“Food for thought,” Bram said with a hint of a smirk.