Sir John and Marie were in the parlour when Detectives Symonds and Dawlish arrived with Phlebotomous.

“Bad business,” said Dawlish, after the greetings. “Very bad business”

“Do we have an idea who the Fiend was?” said Sir John.

“None at all,” said Symonds. “We searched the room he had been renting and found, ah, flasks. We think they contained the victims’ blood. There were 10 in all, arranged in a curious pattern of concentric circles. Other than that, the room was devoid of anything normal, anything … human.”

“Why do you think it was the girls’ blood?” asked Marie.

“We examined the suit the Fiend was wearing in some detail,” said Symonds. “It was an ingenious design, if horrific. The face mask had needles which were connected to a flask in the suit, identical to the ones we found in his room. We think this is how the girls were … drained. The left hand was also connected to a needle, but one that injected a person with a chemical. We’ve analysed the chemical and it’s a powerful narcotic … and anti-coagulant.”

“So, that’s why the victims were acting strange,” said Sir John.   

“Indeed,” said Symonds, “and there were motors at all the joints and so on, which gave the Fiend great strength and iron panels which provided armour.”

“Aaah!” said Phlebotomous, turning to Marie, “That’s why you were … unlucky! That’s why elves detest iron, you know. It blocks  … luck.”

Symonds looked confused at the vampire.

“There is one thing that we couldn’t work out, which was the eye pieces in the mask,” said Symonds. “We brought it so you could have a look. They seem as though they should do something.”

“When I saw through …” started Marie. She looked at Sir John. “Perhaps the ectoscope may help.”

“Ah!” said Sir John and fished out his portable ectoscope. He looked at the mask.

“There’s definitely something paranormal about this,” he said. He put the mask over his face and looked around.

“Oh, I think I see what it does. It’s used to locate vampires. Everyone else looks normal, but Phlebotomous has a pale glow around him.”

Just them Miss Henderson came in the room with tea and biscuits.

“Good lord!” said Sir John. “Miss Henderson, are you a vampire? You have a glow too.”

Miss Henderson jumped at the sight of the mask.

“No, Sir John, I’m not presently a vampire,” she said.

Symonds coughed.

“Perhaps,” he said, “it isn’t vampires that have this glow.”

Everyone turned to look at Phlebotomous, apart from Sir John.

“What! It’s hard to make the acquaintance of ladies when you’re a vampire!” said Phlebotomous. “It’s not the sort of thing that girls look for in a suitor!”

“Miss Henderson,” said Dawlish, “you are to be congratulated on your fighting skills, if I understand correctly.”

“Oh, I see!” said Sir John, who put down the mask suddenly. He had gone a shade of red.

“I had training,” said Miss Henderson. “My best friend, Veronica Fairfax, was killed by the Fiend and I vowed that it wouldn’t happen to me. I went to Chinatown to learn the ancient oriental ways of combat. When I heard that Sir Jennings was chasing the Fiend, and there was a position in his household, I put myself forward in the hope I might confront the Fiend. I hope you don’t mind, Sir Jennings.”

“Since you saved our lives, I think we can accept that,” said Sir John.

“Miss Fairfax was the first victim,” said Symonds gently. “You’ve done well to learn so quickly in just a few months.”

“I had four older brothers, so I had a head start,” said the maid. “But it is my ambition in time to be a mistress of all the marital arts.”

Dawlish spat some tea out and Symonds went a light pink colour.

Marie took Miss Henderson by the arm.

“Perhaps we should find some cake,” she said and led the maid out of the room.

“I wonder if this is an appropriate time to discuss my invoice?” said Sir John.

Symonds and Dawlish looked a little surprised.

“Sir John,” said Dawlish, “we thought you understood this was a public service. That it was pro bono as the lawyers say.”

“Oh,” said Sir John. “That wasn’t entirely clear.”

“We have decided to give you an award though,” said Symonds, “because of your help. We have decided to make you an honorary …”

“Detective?” said Sir John excitedly.

“Constable,” finished Symonds.

“You won’t have any powers as such, but you can have this,” said Dawlish.

Sir John looked down at his hand.

“Pro Bono!”

“To call help, if you need it,” explained Symonds.

“Well,” said Phlebotomous, “what do we do next?”

“There is little we can do,” said Dawlish. “The Fiend is dead. Whatever his twisted scheme was, it’s finished. But there are no clues to follow, no idea of who he was, where he came from. He took all that to the grave with him. It’s likely we will have to be content that we have stopped him. We may never know what he was trying to do. Or how close he came to doing it.”

The Fulham Fiend: Epilogue

The Fiend turned again to Miss Henderson. He walked lazily toward her.

The maid screamed,“This is for Veronica!”

She grabbed two sticks hidden amongst her flower tray. In a deft motion, the maid dropped the tray and snapped the sticks together end-to-end to make a staff. She held the staff behind her on the right and held her left hand in front of her. The Fiend stopped and looked down at the maid, who spun round suddenly. The staff smacked into the Fiend’s head with an audible clang and he rocked sideways. Miss Henderson span back the other way and hit the Fiend on the other side of the head.

It staggered back briefly as Miss Henderson continued spinning round, moving to ground level. The staff connected with the Fiend’s legs, but he didn’t give way. He brought down his arms to catch the whirling maid but she blocked his arms with the staff. He pressed down heavily on the staff and Miss Henderson held on, roaring at the Fiend. Eventually she jumped back and let go in one move and the Fiend toppled forward onto the ground.

Further down the street Sir John was picking himself up. He looked at Marie who was sitting and gasping for air as Phlebotomous ran toward them with his hand over his mouth.

“It’th a rorot, it’th a rorot!” he said, indicating the Fiend.

“It’s what?” said Sir John. The vampire moved his hand away from his mouth.

“Ow my teeth,” he said. “It’s made of metal, it’s a robot, not a vampire.”

“My God, what shall we do, it’s got Miss Henderson cornered,” said Sir John. The two looked around and saw Miss Henderson beating the prone Fiend as it started to rise.

“Well, more or less,” said Sir John.

“She cannot ‘old it off forever, I think,” said Marie, coming to join them. “We must do something, mon cher.”

“Your light device, how does it work?” said Phlebotomous.

“Well, it’s just a collection of filament bulbs, albeit with a very strong charge,“ said Sir John holding up the device.

“The Fiend’s eye sockets are in the head,” said Phlebotomous. “I’d wager there is some other computational components there, too. Maybe we could deliver that charge to its head? The shock may disrupt its circuits.”

“Yes,” said Sir John, “good idea. We’d need some technical means of bypassing the photoelectric circuitry so we can expose the wiring.”

Phlebotomous reached for the lightbulbs and wrenched them out.

“That would do it,” said Sir John. “But how are you going to reached the Fiend’s head.”

“With this extending arm and my portable welding device,’ said Phlebotomous. Marie and Sir John instinctively stood back. The vampire took Sir John’s light device. He extended the arm grab from his right arm and produced a small welding gun on the left. He hummed merrily as he welded the device to the grab.

“AAAAAAH-IIIIIIRGH!”

From several feet away Marie and Sir John observed the vampire working. Miss Henderson meanwhile had just been knocked to the ground but smoothly rolled back and onto her feet. Across the street Dawlish was rising and seemed to be contemplating joining the fray.

“Ready,” said Phlebotomous and again issued his strangled war cry as he ran toward the Fiend. He got within a few feet before turning round and running back again, still making a noise like a distressed cat.

“Blast!” he said “It’s no good, I still can’t reach.”

“Can’t you fly,” said Sir John.

“That, sir, is an unfortunate stereotype,” said Phlebotomous.

“I can ‘elp” said Marie.

“But,” said Phlebotomous, “I’m rather scared of heights.”

“Think of poor Miss Henderson,” said Marie as a shout of rage came from the maid at other end of the street.

Phlebotomous gulped and started to run again, his battle cry now more of a wail.

“Voler”, said Marie and the vampire rose several feet off the ground and his battle cry rose several octaves. He flew towards the Fiend and applied the device to the back of its head. Sparks of electricity flashed across the Fiend’s body and it convulsed violently. Miss Henderson stopped her attack to watch with glee. Eventually the sparks stopped and the Fiend stood immobile, whilst Phlebotomous floated a little distance away.

“VENGEANCE!” roared Miss Henderson and using her staff as a vault, launched herself at the Fiend. He fell backwards and she landed on top of him. She grabbed the staff and whacked the Fiend on the side of the head. His face plate came off and skittered along the floor. Miss Henderson looked down in surprise.

“What is it?” said Dawlish.

“How does it work?” said Phlebotomous.

They both peered into the hood to see a man inside the metal suit.

“Who the devil are you?” said Dawlish.

“Wouldn’t you like to know!” said the man. He licked his lips, then pulled back on a tooth with a clicking sound and his face glazed over. Sir John arrived and looked down.

“What happened?” he said. Dawlish crouched down to look at the Fiend’s face, his fingers on the man’s neck.

“Poison pill,” Dawlish said. “In his tooth. The Fiend is dead.”

The Fulham Fiend: Chapter 15

Sir John and Marie were sitting in the parlour when Miss Henderson opened the door.

“Your guests are here Sir and Mrs Jennings,” she said. Sir John glanced at Marie who looked a little surprised. Symonds, Dawlish, and Phlebotomous came into the room.

“Ah, Mrs Jennings,” said Dawlish, “let me introduce…”

“We’ve met,” said Marie and Phlebotomous almost instantaneously.

“So sorry about our previous encounter,” said Phlebotomous to Marie.

“A perfectly understandable mistake,” said Marie, “but one best not repeated, perhaps.”

Phlebotomous opened his mouth, stopped then closed it again. Dawlish shot a quizzical look at Symonds who looked embarrassed. At Sir John’s indication all three men sat down.

“We thought Mr Bosch may be able to help with his … specialist knowledge,” said Symonds.

“Since I’m a vampire!” said Phlebotomous.

“Indeed,” said Symonds. “It was quite some effort to get him here. And no small expense in drapery.”

Sir John looked puzzled.

“To protect Mr Bosch from sunlight,” explained Symonds.

“But congratulations are in order, Mrs Jennings,” said Dawlish. “You have found the fiend.”

“Indeed, Inspector Dawlish,” said Marie. “More accurately, I have located the building where I believe he resides. After the incident last night I was able to track him until he entered. It didn’t seem safe to enter the building itself.”

“Remarkable,” said Dawlish. “How did you accomplish this, this swine has given my men the slip for weeks.”

“I was … lucky, I suppose,” said Marie.

“Yes,” blurted Phlebotomous, “that’s why! She is very lucky!”

Dawlish and Symonds looked puzzled at the vampire.

“Well, however it was done, I have a man watching the building, but one man won’t be enough. If only we knew when he was going to strike. The killings are getting more frequent.”

“Tell us the dates,” said Sir John, “we may be able to see a pattern.”

“At first it was around once a month, then almost once a week and now we’ve had 2 in 2 days.”

“Around a month?” said Sir John. “Is it a lunar pattern?”

“Are vampires affected by moonlight?” asked Symonds.

“It’s still sunlight,” said Phlebotomous, “just reflected. I get a headache when it’s full moon.”

“Here are the dates,” said Dawlish, passing Sir John a note. Sir John dug an almanac from the bookshelf and compared.

“The first four are all on a new moon,” said Sir John. “Then, the next four are the quarters of a moon. The ninth, the one that occurred when we went to, er, meet Mr Bosch, was less than a week after that. Then yesterday the murder Marie witnessed.”

“Once a moon, once a quarter, once a day,” said Phlebotomous.

“Does that mean something?” said Symonds, “to a vampire?”

“Not really,” said Phlebotomous. “But it has a ring to it.”

“I think it means that the fiend is getting to the end of his killing, for whatever purpose it is,” said Sir John. “And the next murder will be tonight.”

“If we lay a trap, we can catch the swine,” said Dawlish. “If we had a suitable lady to tempt him…”

“You can’t use Marie!” said Sir John.

“Well, obviously,” said Symonds.

“Why obviously?” said Sir John, looking put out.

“Well … I presume obviously,” said Symonds looking embarrassed. Sir John still looked puzzled so Marie leaned toward Sir John and whispered in his ear.

“Oh!” said Sir John turning red. “Of course.”

“Why obviously?” asked Phlebotomous. Symonds leaned forward and whispered into his ear. Phlebotomous went a light shade of pink.

Just then, Miss Henderson arrived with some tea and biscuits. The room was deep in thought as she placed them on a small table, keeping away from Phlebotomous. When she had finished laying out the cups, saucers and plate, the vampire extended an arm towards the items. A small mechanical grab, on the end of an extendable arm, came out of his sleeve and headed for the biscuit plate. When it arrived, it tipped the plate over onto the floor, spilling the contents under the table.

“Hmm,” said Phlebotomous, “needs calibration.”

Mrs Henderson bent under the table to pick up the biscuits. The room was still silent when Phlebotomous leaned forward excitedly.

“Is your maid a virgin?” he said.

There was a crash from the table as Miss Henderson tried to stand up quickly. She crawled slowly out from underneath.

“Mr Bosch!” said Marie.

“Oh dear, my head,” Miss Henderson said. “I’m sure I must be hearing things.”

Marie went over to help the maid and escorted her out of the room.

“Too Apt!”

“Badly put, but he has a point,” said Dawlish half to himself. “Sir John, I want to show you the layout of the area, and what I have in mind. Do you have something I might use so I can demonstrate on this table top?”

Sir John looked around the bottom of the bookshelf.

“Will this help?” he said. Dawlish’s moustache twitched in amusement.

“Almost too apt,” he said. “Alright, imagine this piece is the maid and this box is the house. My men will hide, in the alleyways with crucifixes and water. You and Mr Bosch can be here, at a safe distance, but ready to offer advice if needed.”

“Maybe we should bring Mrs Jennings?” said Phlebotomous. “Er … for luck?”

Dawlish frowned. Symonds coughed and nodded.

“I … shall ask”, said Sir John, “and see if she is feeling … lucky.”

Dawlish frowned some more.

“Well, whoever comes, when the fiend comes out to catch our bait then my men come left and right. And we have him.”

Marie came in the room.

“Miss Henderson is both capable and willing to assist this evening,” she said.

“The game’s afoot!” said Dawlish.

The Fulham Fiend: Chapter 13