“And then I had to go and spoil everything, by not dying after all,” said Daniel. “And not keeping my mouth shut.”
“The only reason you’re still alive now,” said Paul, “is because no one believed you when you talked about the monsters.”
“It was all true!”
“Of course it was,” said Paul.
“What were those oversized freakshows?” said Daniel.
“Creations of the Frankenstein Clan,” said Paul. “And yes, you did hear that name correctly. Tell me, Dan, did you ever wonder what happened to all the monsters everyone used to believe in? The vampires, werewolves, and mummies . . . ”
“They weren’t real. And most of us grew out of fairy stories.”
“They used to be real,” said Paul. “Real as you and me. They just chose to reinvent themselves, to disappear into the underworld of crime. These days, the Frankenstein Clan deals in illegal surgeries. The Vampire Clan deals in all forms of seduction. The Clan of Mummies deals in drugs. The werewolves supply muscle and enforcement, for when the Clans don’t want to do it themselves. All the shit work, basically. And the ghouls make sure the bodies are never found. Because they’ll eat anything.”
Daniel looked at Paul, lost for words. His first thought was that his friend had been driven out of his mind by his experiences, but that didn’t explain how a man with a broken back could walk into his flat. And if there was a way for a broken body to be repaired . . . Daniel wanted to know about it.
“I was so sure you were dead,” he said finally. “How are you still alive?”
“They wanted to know how we’d found out about them,” said Paul. “And the best way to be sure I would tell them everything was to make me one of them.”
“A criminal?” said Daniel.
“A vampire,” said Paul.
“And they say I’m crazy,” said Daniel.
Paul surged forward, grabbed Daniel by the shirtfront, and lifted him out of his chair as though he was weightless. Daniel’s feet kicked helplessly above the floor. He grabbed Paul’s wrist with both hands, and then snatched them away. The skin was horribly cold, like touching a dead man. Paul marched Daniel across the room and slammed him against the far wall. Daniel cried out at the pain, and Paul clapped his other hand over Daniel’s mouth to silence him. The hand smelled like something dead, but Paul wouldn’t let Daniel squirm away. He pushed his face right up against Daniel’s, and then he smiled slowly, revealing jagged, pointed teeth. His breath stank of blood and death. And his eyes were full of all the darkness in the world. Paul eased up a little, and Daniel turned his head away. In the mirror hanging on the wall beside him he saw his reflection . . . and no one else. He seemed to be hanging unsupported in mid air.
His heart lurched painfully in his chest, and he made himself look back at Paul. The eyes boring into his were as inhuman as a shark’s, and the smile was full of predator’s teeth. For the first time, Daniel realized Paul wasn’t breathing. They were so close Daniel should have been able to feel Paul’s breath on his face, but there was nothing. His old friend stank of the grave, and things that had been dead too long. Daniel stared wide-eyed into the unblinking eyes before him, his mouth crushed under a dead man’s hand, and wished he’d never survived to know such things were possible.
Paul slowly lowered Daniel to the floor, let go of him, and stepped away. Daniel breathed deeply, trying to get the dead man’s smell out of his nostrils. He rubbed hard at his mouth with the back of his hand, trying to forget how the dead flesh had felt. He was shaking so much he had to lean back against the wall to steady himself. He glanced at the mirror again. Paul was standing right in front of it, but there was no trace of him anywhere in the reflection. Daniel made a sound, deep in his throat, and Paul laughed softly. He went back to his chair and sat down. Daniel watched him, until his heartbeat and breathing had returned to something like normal. And then he went back, and sat down opposite Paul again.
Because his world had just been changed forever, and he needed to know what the hell was going on.
“Sorry about that, Danny boy,” said Paul. “But I needed you to believe me.”
“All right,” Daniel said steadily. “I’m convinced. You’re a vampire. Is this what happened to Nigel?”
“No,” said Paul. “He’s something else now. Listen to me, Dan. This is important. Do you still want to help people? To defend them from monsters who prey on the weak and the vulnerable?”
“Yes,” said Daniel. It was one of the few things he was still sure about. “But I can’t be a cop anymore.”
“You could be a hunter of monsters,” said Paul.
“Of things like you?” said Daniel.
“I hate what I’ve been made into,” said Paul. “Driven by a hunger that never ends, always at the beck and call of things worse than me. No one trusts me, so I get all the worst jobs. Like disappearing innocent people, when they get too close to the truth about how things really are.”
“People like me?” said Daniel.
“You’re not dangerous enough to be a problem to them,” said Paul. “Though you could be, if you wanted.”
“Have you . . . fed, yet?” said Daniel.
“Of course I have! I didn’t have any choice. This is what I am now.” Paul shook his head slowly. “The only chance I have for revenge on the monsters who did this to me, and all the others who make this world a living hell for everyone else . . . is you. That’s why I risked everything to come here. You’re the only one I can trust to do the right thing.”
“Look at me!” Daniel said harshly. “It’s all I can do to walk from one end of my flat to the other. How am I supposed to fight monsters?”
Paul produced a card from inside his coat. “This is the address for Jekyll & Hyde Incorporated.”
Daniel couldn’t help but smile. Paul didn’t.
“You have got to be kidding . . . ” said Daniel.
“I don’t do that anymore,” said Paul.
“But . . . Jekyll and Hyde? Really?”
Paul smiled, showing his teeth. “Set a thief to catch a thief. Or a monster to kill a monster. Go see them, Dan. They can tell you everything you need to know. And . . . they can put you back the way you used to be.”
While Daniel was still struggling to get his head round that, Paul rose to his feet. He produced a book from inside his coat and thrust it into Daniel’s hands. A battered old copy of The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mister Hyde, by Robert Louis Stevenson. Paul smiled.
“Do your homework before you go to see them.”
“Aren’t you going to give me Dracula, as well?” said Daniel.
“No,” said Paul. “Stoker got it all wrong.”
He drifted silently over to the front door.
“What about Commissioner Gill?” said Daniel. “Do you know what happened to her?”
Paul looked back at him. “I happened to her. The Clan sent me to shut her up, and after what she did to us . . . it was a pleasure. Listen to me, Danny boy: I can’t help you directly in this, but I will be around. In the background.”
“Is there anyone you’d like me to contact?” said Daniel. “There must be people who’d be glad to know you’re back . . . ”
“Let them think I’m dead,” said Paul. “Because I am.”
He left, closing the door quietly behind him. Daniel sat alone in the quiet of his empty flat, and looked at the address on the card.
Chapter Three
HYDE AND SEEK
All the way across London on the Tube, no one sat next to Daniel. His permanent scowl had a lot to do with that. He needed a stick to walk any distance, and hated the way it made people look at him. But anger and stubbornness kept him going, and by late afternoon he was limping through an only slightly run-down business area. The pavements were so crowded he was sorely tempted to strike people down with his stick when they didn’t get out of his way fast enough, and from the looks on some of their faces he thought they understood that. Daniel was not in the best of moods, but then, he rarely was.