Varney versus Spring-heel Jack 19: June 1888.
Posted by varneyjack on July 7, 2008
Nineteen: June 1888.
‘You can’t do that. It’s… insane, for God’s sakes. Inhuman.’
Haining whirled on Bekinscot. ‘Inhuman? In God’s name, man, what do you think she is right now? What do you think she has become? Your Elizabeth… my Lillibet… she does not exist now, nor has she existed for some time. What little there may have been of her, whatever residual traces of her past life and her being that may still be in there, get less by the day. You saw her tonight. There is virtually nothing left that is of her. God alone knows that I have tried to move the heavens and the earth to change all that. But so far I have failed. There is not much time left. It has taken me this long to gain the knowledge and prepare myself. Time is fast running out. The grains of sand in the timer have almost slipped away. The Lord alone knows that I am fortunate for him to have returned at this time –‘
‘Fortunate!’ expostulated Bekinscot, unable to believe what he had just heard.
Haining, stopped in mid-flow, paused for a moment. When he continued, it was in a milder tone, with the flickerings of a wry smile crossing his lips.
‘Yes, fortunate. That may seem a strange choice of words under the circumstances, old friend, but believe me it is one that I choose wisely. My best chance of gaining my revenge on him by taking her back, and by expunging him from the face of the earth, comes rarely. To manufacture the serum and take it beyond the experimental stage, I know that I need some of his foul blood. More, it is beyond the realms of the science and into that of the occult. There is a power that his kind have hold over their chosen victims. To banish that, I must banish him. Only then will I be able to bring her back. And I know – yes, know, dammit – that he has been avoiding London for some time. He fears me because –‘
‘Because you have bested him once before?’ Bekinscot murmured.
Haining gave a short, bitter laugh. ‘Best? No, if only I could have; then this would not have been necessary, and she would have been returned to me – to us – long ago. But he did not best me. It was – at most – a hard fought and bitterly bloody draw for me. But he did not defeat me, and that is the thing. His pride does not admit of that. And he is so used to his little victories that he cannot comprehend a situation where he does not emerge clear victor.’
‘Then he is scared,’ Bekinscot whispered.
‘Perhaps unsettled would be a better word,’ Haining mused. ‘But that may be all the edge that I need.’
By this time, the two men had left Elizabeth far behind, and had passed through the laboratory housing the animals. Bekinscot indicated the area that they had just vacated. ‘I do not approve of what you do there,’ he continued in the same mild tone as before. ‘But I think I may understand, now.’
Haining assented. ‘It gives me no pleasure to experiment on dumb animals. Pains me at times. I do not like being a butcher. But he has made me that way, of necessity. To find the key to the blood, I need to experiment. This is bad enough, but I quail at me fellow humans. Come to that, where would I find willing subjects? But, thankfully, I fear the necessity may be coming to an end.’
‘For your conscience – for I know you are a good man – I hope so,’ Bekinscot said quietly.
‘Thanks you, Haining replied in an equally soft voice. Then, brighter as they approached the engineering workshop: ‘But this – this, I feel, will astound you…’
