Preys and Predators Part 1 Chapter 32

 

32

 

Colonel Moran saw the lady boarded the coach readied for her. He had his rifle; the Lee Metford rifle with the ten bullets ammo clip. It was only released to the Army as a standard issue but the Colonel had tested the rifle for a few years. He laid the two-spare clip by the table near the window. He had to make sure she was safe.

 In his assassination works, he would have used the air-rifle modified by him to firer a live bullet. It was for silencer noise of the shot he required.

The Lee Metford was his other preferred rifle having tested it on other targets; assassination was his speciality. The proximity killings including poisoning and the garrotte were the works of the others, but the above four hundred yards shots were his to marvelled over. Once during the Boer’s War, the Colonel took upon himself to hunt the sniper who had taken down five officers of the Regiment. He was a Big Game hunter having spent his free time on the continent hunting the elusive leopard or the cheetah. He needed the big rush inside him when he lined the barrel at the charging predator. His experience won him the duel with the sniper with the shot taken by the Lee Enfield rifle Mark 1. He did the shot at nine hundred yards after a long wait in the bush.

“Gentlemen, it is not the fault of the rifle when we missed a target. It is us who hold the trigger and lined the barrel.” Colonel Moran told the riflemen assembled before him after the successful shot.

“Blood good it does compared to the Maxim gun now.” One of the junior officers voiced out. The Maxim .303 Machine Gun was the first machine gun to operate entirely by mechanical means. It could fire 650 rounds a minute from a continuously fed belt of ammunition.

“The Maxim gun is a mass killer and not like this rifle which is a refined tool of the marksman.” Colonel Moran defended the rifle as the better tool. He was proud of his marksmanship; something that other officers said was his ego to praise the long barrel. Colonel Moran have his bullets customed made for him, with the right grammage of powder and filing to the tip.

“Well, he then needs to bend over and I will treat him to the tradesman shot up the arse.” One officer commented and the words reached the Colonel. The officer was sent back home with a dishonourable discharge to his demerit.

The first sight of the enemy was when the man he posted on the right end of the street stepped out with the revolver drawn. He raised his right arm up holding the revolver and fired it to sky. It was a warning shot, and later he collapsed on the pavement with the dagger in his back. Colonel Moran saw the killer emerged and was shot by the Colonel with the rifle. It then triggered more shooters ion the street aiming at the Colonel. He stepped back when the bullets impacted on the window. He leaned out and caught sight of three men running across the street to the house.

Two of them were shot by the Colonel’s assigned guards on the street. His men were hidden in the adjacent house armed with revolvers. They gunned the enemies but one got into the house. The Colonel heard the shot below but he was taking any chances. He hid behind the divan with the rifle drawn.

“It is me, Sir.” Jeremy Evans rushed in. “I got the nitwit in the head.”

Jeremy served with the Colonel in the Regiment and was a sharpshooter. He stepped up to the Colonel and the bullet from across the street; fired from the roof impacted on his head. He was dead before he fell to the flooring.

“I will be darned.” Colonel Moran loved his men, and then turned to the window to sight the shooter. The other was seen at the rooftop loading the rifle The Colonel shot first and killed the shooter. He heard the commotion downstairs and rushed to the stairways. He positioned himself with the rifle aimed at the stairs. He fired first at the man who emerged there armed with a revolver. He fired the second round at the other man who was behind. Both men fell on the stairs and rolled down.

“Er ist da oben. Seien Sie vorsichtig.” (In German; He is up there. Be careful.).

“Beeil dich mit ihm. Wir sollen ihn hier töten und dann die Dame.” (In German; Rush him. We are to kill him here, and then the lady.)

“Dann lass es uns tun.” (In German, let’s do it).

Several shots were heard by the Colonel. He was not assuming the best but felt confident his men made it there.

“Sir, we got them. Bloody Germans.” That was the voice of his other man, Stewart. “You can come down now, Sir.”

Colonel Moran stood up and the watched his men mounted the stairs.

“We counted ten of them but some got away. They are mercenaries, Sir.”

“Collect Jeremy from inside, and Davies down below. We are leaving but leave the Germans.” Colonel Moran gave the order. He then retrieved his bullets and leather case. He was more concerned on the lady then.

At that moment, Mary was inside the coach without a chance to do the sights. Her driver was whipping the horses drawing the coach in a frenzy. They were pursued by two other coaches and they have revolvers drawn at the lady’s coach.

“Hang onto your skirt there, Missy. We got a race going on here now.” Her driver named John Wayne was a man of man years of driving the coach, with his younger days doing it on the Great Plains.

“It is not the Epson Derby but we will do it with style.” John called out. He was driving eh coach from the front unlike the ones on the street with the driver at the rear.

“Dolly will get us clear.” Dolly was the horse that was pulling the coach. She went past the corners on two wheels before righted to the standard four wheels. The shots came then.

“I will be darned they can shoot at this race.” John cursed. “What was it with the guns? We used to have arrows sticking out on the coach.”

The race came to a junction with the river in the front. John saw the oncoming cart form the right and did a sharp turn to the left. The front pursuing coach did not see the cart and swerved to avoid but ended up plunging into the river. The other coach kept the pursuit on and John coaxed Dolly to run faster.

“Do for me, Dolly. I will Randy off your back for the month.” John called out. He knew how the stud works well.

Further down the street parallel to the river, John saw the oncoming coach with menacing intention. He had little choice with the side alleys all crammed with carts.

“Missy, can you shoot well from the side?” John called out. “We are going need it.”

Mary leaned out of the coach window and saw the oncoming coach. It was a split-second decision, and she did it. She leaned back on the seat and drew her revolver.

“Dolly, let us do it!” John called out and drove the coach to the side of the street with half the body over the river side. The coach drove on two wheels skirted the opposing coach with John turning to smile at the other nervous driver. Mary then fired off three shots in succession at the passing coach. She was unsure if she hit any one there but soon John had the coach back on the street. She heard the noise of the coaches crashing at the rear.

“We had done it, Missy. Now we get you home.” John called out. He drove the coach to the safe house in downtown. A lady with the heavily cosmetic layers greeted her.

“Welcome to the Bordel Marquis De Sado.” The lady said. “Here we act on every fantasy you may want including on how to preserve your chatte (in English is fanny).”

“And John. Do go to Room No.5. Chanel will attend to you. She can do the whips on you.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Preys and Predators Part 1 Chapter 31

 

31

 

“Watson, the game is a-foot.” Holmes called out to his companion. “Get your pants on quick.”

“Hold your horses, Holmes. I am still seated here.” Doctor Watson knew his preference for the roast beef was always there, but that cook dish was not done well. It was not Mrs. Hudson’ fault for he had it some streets away at lunch. He was thankful for the privy at the unit.

“Roast Beef for lunch? I doubt that will be appetizing at all.” Holmes had commented.

“Well, it is my body and roast beef is my favourite anytime.” Doctor Watson took a slice of the meat cooked rare on his order. “Roast beef is a characteristic national dish of England and holds cultural meaning for the English dating back to the 1731 ballad "The Roast Beef of Old England". The dish is so synonymous with England and its cooking methods from the 18th century that a French nickname for the English is "les Rosbifs".”

Extract from https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roast_beef#:~:text=Roast%20beef%20is%20a%20characteristic,English%20is%20%22les%20Rosbifs%22.)

“I am aware of that but do you know that Regardless of the chemical state of myoglobin (OMb, DMb, MMb), when the beef is cooked, a hemichrome (denatured globin and oxidized heme iron) pigment is formed that is tan in colour. If the globin is fully denatured, the hemichrome cannot change back to a red pigment.”  Holmes added. “Chemistry will tell you that.”

(Extract from https://www.beefresearch.org/resources/product-quality/fact-sheets/color-changes-in-cooked-beef#:~:text=Regardless%20of%20the%20chemical%20state,back%20to%20a%20red%20pigment.)

“Stuff it, Holmes. Let me enjoy my roast beef.” Doctor Watson took offence to the preferred condition of his beef.

“I am stuffing it. They serve the best Cornish Pies here; a mixture of well-seasoned steak, onions, potatoes and swede, not rutabaga/yellow turnip if you are in the other continent.” Holmes picked at the tender pieces of beef. “Well cooked.”

“I wondered what had happened to our guest, Mary Reid.” Holmes looked up from his meal. “She had not been heard for over twelve hours.”

“Twelve hours, Holmes. Not twelve days from Christman. Why do you even care? You said so yourself that you hold no affection for her. And for the wise, you never did for anyone.” Doctor Watson was upset and found his lunch was not as desirable. “Your words if I could recalled on women were ‘Women are never to be entirely trusted, —not the best of them.”

“I did say I am not affected by her feminine qualities but nevertheless with her status known, I do concern on her well-being. Are you not? You are more familiar with the anecdotes of loving someone.”

“Stuff it, Holmes.” That was their last conversation bit and soon back at the unit, Doctor Watson asked Mrs. Hudson for the cup of bitter tea.

“I got an after taste from lunch.” That was before he rushed to the privy. He had returned to his bedroom.

“Well, hurry up, Watson. A delay may result in another life decayed.” Holmes stood there with his ulster coat on and hat in his hands. He was tapping his feet impatiently.

“I am coming but let me get a change of pants.” Doctor Watson exited from the bedroom.

“By golly, do send that pair of soiled pants to the laundry. We cannot have the unit contaminated.” Holmes snapped out in jest, but the Doctor was into his other pants. He also grabbed his Webley pistol; hoping it might misfire at Holmes for bloody good reason.

Soon at the crime scene, Holmes was met by his brother, Mycroft. He was not in his cynical self but a look of concern.

“This the home of Doctor Henry Jekyll. He is not here.” Mycroft indicated to the six victims there. “They are not mine, but from the Naval Intelligence. Three were sliced, and one with the spine and neck broken, and one had his neck bitten.”

“I saw one body outside on the pavement.” Doctor Watson cut in.

“Yes, he was thrown out according to witnesses.” The witnesses were Mycroft’s men.

“Where is Doctor Jekyll?” Doctor Watson asked.

“We do not know. The place was a mess when we attended. His guest, Count Vlad Tepes is also missing.”

“Count Vlad? He is also called …...” Doctor Watson was to say the name when another group of men arrived. The leader of the new group approached Mycroft.

“Commander Bane. Jameson Bane. I have the authorisation of the Admiral to administrate the scene. We will do the needed and your team is to leave immediately.” The Commander handed over the letter of authorization. Mycroft peruse it and then called for his men to leave.

“We are leaving, men. Leave it to the swabbies here. They are cleaning the deck.” Swabbies is the nickname for Navy sailors, derived from the act of swabbing the decks or cleaning duties aboard ships.

Mycroft offered to ride back with Holmes and Watson back to Baker Street. Once they are back at the unit, he briefed the two on the role of Doctor Jekyll and the Count.

“Most intriguing.” Holmes remarked out. “I would …... I reckoned the Government had taken a licking to their wounds of the losses of the battles but the super warrior is a fallacy at best.”

“Super warrior or enhanced soldier is indeed a fallacy. Every nation wants to develop that army, but it is like asking for rain in the desert.” Doctor Watson sighed. “It is like most men never satisfied with what they hold between their legs.”

“Watson, it does rain the desert maybe smaller than other places.” Mycroft cut in.

“I am aware, just we wished we were bigger.” Doctor Watson weighed in his ego remarks.

Well, the case of the missing doctor must be investigated.” Holmes was into his works then. “Can you explain the involvement of the naval here?”

“I ……” Mycroft hesitated. He was bound by his service oath, and that of justice. The fine line there was crossed many times, and it ate at his conscience most times.

“I will tell but it stays withing these walls.” Mycroft sighed. “Can I have a drink please?”

“Sure, Mycroft.” It was Mrs. Hudson who appeared with the tray of tea, and scones. She also added in a wine glass with claret.

“A glass for you, Mycroft. It will help your nerves.”

“Bloody well it will suffice. Do stay Mrs. Hudson. You can hear this and be of some assistance with your expertise.” Mycroft took the glass.

“I do hold my best expertise with …… men of valour.” Mrs Hudson smiled. “And menacing ones too.”

 

 

 

 

 

Preys and Predators Part 1 Chapter 30

 

30

 

Count Vlad leapt at the one holding the double barrel shotgun. The double shotgun is a break-action shotgun with two parallel barrels, allowing two single shots that can be fired simultaneously or sequentially in quick succession. It was deadly short range, but the length of the shotgun was restrictive in the room. He grabbed the barrel when the triggers were pulled. The blast, however, took off the plaster at the ceiling. The gunman was stunned momentarily, and the count forced the shotgun at the gunman’s chest. With his strength, the force of the blow was to propel the gunman into his friends.

Two others rappelled in from the roof and smashed through the windows. It was Rosa who went into action. She rushed at the one on the right with her improvised ‘chasse’ kick technique—the front kick at the opponent—but she did it with a forward jump. The toes of her right feet impacted the intruder on the face and sent him out of the window. She landed on the toes of her feet and swung out a side kick, the fouetté swing kick at the other intruder in the back. The intruder was drawing his revolver and ended up on his face.

“Get to safety, Doctor.” The count called out and then rushed to the wall beside the doorway. He did that to avoid the sunlight that could burn his skin. He heard the drawn trigger and leapt aside. The gunmen had shot at the wall beside the door. The count was wounded on the left forearm, but he was missed by the multiple shots.

“Count, you are hurt!” Rosa called out. She had retrieved the fallen revolver of the fallen intruder. It was a Webley revolver. She cracked the skull of the intruder with a blow to the back of the head. She then held the revolver at the door, and just then the count was wounded. She pulled the trigger and fired at the open doorway. He heard the screams, but her concern was with the doctor. He had rushed into the lab.

Henry was safe.

Doctor Jekyll slammed the door of the lab shut. It was not able to be locked with part of the hinges loosening. He rushed to the nearby table for cover. He was in a state of panic.

“I must stay calm. I cannot be in rage.” Doctor Jekyll muttered to himself. He knew that if he was in rage or lost his calmness, he would spill into his alter identity of Hyde. It was Hyde who protected Darling, whose family opposed their friendship. Unlike Romeo and Juliet, they did not commit suicide; they eloped and lived happily. It was not known as the play was not staged.

“I must stay calm.” Doctor Jekyll was in a state of frantic, and he eyed the vial. He picked it and looked hard at it. He knew that the serum would calm him, but the last episode did not augur well. He felt his personality dragging at his mind. He felt that he was a weaker man; he was a nerd to many. He wanted to be more masculine and a fighter than just a lover. When he was approached to develop the super warrior serum, he did the tests, and it was inconclusive. When the death numbers piled, he became the test specimen. The previous serum he injected that used to calm him was added the new properties. He had bouts of aggression and designed the chair.

“The flowers...” Doctor Jekyll had the recall that the item was given to him. He had kept the flower properties in the vial stored on the shelves. He was to try it, but the count arrived. His work was focused on the count. He had merged the chemicals of recent, but his lapse of memory eluded his recollection.

That was one of his ailments beside his personality; he was affected by loss of memories.

“No, I cannot do it.” Doctor Jekyll cried out.

Rosa tossed the revolver when the bullets were spent. She rushed to the kitchen, and it was then the surviving intruders rushed in. She jumped into the kitchen with the bullets impacted on the living area. Rosa was not without her choice of weapons.

The ‘churi knives” was her choice. The Romani Churi is a recycled knife made from an old knife, and those were, and still are, old table knives of the "bone" handle variety. It was not any specially designed knife but homemade from salvage blades and attached to the wooden or bone hilt. It will be used for many purposes, from cutting the branches to slicing the meat. She used hers for the latter purposes.

Rosa grabbed the belt that held her seven knives and slung it across her chest with the seven knives displayed at the front. She reached for the first knife at the belt with her right hand and held it with the hand grip. The masters also taught her the knife fighting techniques when she was young.

Rosa ran to the doorway and stayed at the left side wall. She was listening for the intruder’s approach. The one that stepped had his revolvers lined for the shot, but the slash on the back of his right shin caused him to yell out in pain. The second slash was at the right kidney, and he crouched in pain, which was then the third slash slid his throat. It was called bringing the predator to the ground. She then rolled over to the far side when the bullets from the other intruder fired at the door frame. The gunman stepped in, looking at the spot where Rosa was. That was the moment for Rosa to throw her knife at the gunman’s right arm holding the revolver. She then rushed at him with a body slam into the living area.

The count was in action when he leapt at the third gunman from his hidden position behind the shelf. He knew that exposure to the sunlight would hurt him, but Rosa was his concern. His jump was high and he landed on the gunman with his jaw opened. He bit into the gunman at the throat and severed the jugular vein there. It was his first taste of blood for some days. He had refrained from consuming blood to avoid his host’s interest, but the call was deemed needed then.

Dracula lived then.

The fresh blood helped him to heal.

The burned wounds on the skin began to heal.

Rosa had then sliced the third knife held in her right hand at the side of the gunman. She rolled off the gunman when the shots were shot. The fallen gunman was hit by his peers in the chest. Rosa tossed her third knife at the firing gunman but missed when she was impacted by the bullet at her left shoulder. She screamed out in pain; it was her first bullet wound.

The last gunman then stepped up towards her, but he was then seen tossed by a huge frame.

“No one hurts Daisy!” The huge frame called out. It was Mr. Hyde. He stood at almost seven feet in height and held double the dimension of most men.

“I will kill you!” Mr. Hyde grabbed the gunman and tossed him against the wall. He then proceeded to grab the injured gunman by the left leg and tossed him once more across the room. He was approaching the broken gunman when Rosa called out to him.

“Let it be. He is near death.” Rosa spoke. Mr. Hyde stopped and turned to look at her. She saw then the gleam in his eyes and the tears that were weeping out. He approached her and crouched her.

“You are hurt by him, Darling. I will always protect you.”

“I know, Hyde. I know.” Rosa reached out with her left hand towards the monster she had called Hyde. “I know.”

Mr. Hyde leaned forward to lay his head against the hand. He was content to be at her side. He then fell on his side, unconscious.

“Henry!” Rosa reached out to him. She saw his body frame become back to normal, and it was her love then who greeted her sight.

“He will be fine.” Rosa heard the count. She looked over and saw the count was wiping his mouth of the fresh blood.

“Master!”

“It is alright, my dear. I did what my other self was used to. I am fine now.” Count Vlad sat back on the flooring behind the divan. “We may have to leave now. We are compromised here on our safety.”

“What about Henry?” Rosa saw the count was hurt, but he shook her off his wounds.

“He goes with us. I know of a safe house where we can get protection. My wounds will heal there.”

 

 

 

 

Happy Valentines

 

Velentine Remembrance

 St. Valentine as told to me 

Note:Bless thee, Father, for without your love, we would still be lost.----------------------------------------

I do not know what lies ahead of me, as all I ever can see is a single dark image. It's the sight of one who is without the gift of sight. I may be without sight, and I was no clumsy lady of my age. I hear and smell better than most, and what I felt gave me shapes in my mind. I had felt the hand that led me that moment by the person I knew as my father. He was anxious to take care of me with his eyes. 

But many times, I have lamented to him that none may find the cure to my ailment as he calls it. I knew how he felt while his daughter sits by the patio listening to the sounds of others who may be in a play or on a stroll, but little does he know I can smell the lilac growing at the flower bed beside our home and the sound of the wind as it weaves through the spaces in between the houses.

"Aargh!" as my feet stepped on the damp floor of the place I was to venture with my father. 

"Father, pray tell me we are not going into your place of work. I find the smell there very uncomfortable." I had already picked up the pungent aroma of the place where he worked, for Mother used to bring me along when she was with us. 

Mother's then had left us. It was oce the time when the family could live as a whole and happiness prevail despite the pain of the infliction on their daughter. It ended with her passing and my father's inducement with liquor. His sleep in the night assisted by intoxication makes rest then a disturbing one while his snores kept me awake.

"We are here, my child." I felt the touch on the familiar walls of his workplace. It was damp and coated with the grime of dirt and waste. 

"Priest, I brought her now. Please do your merciful acts for us. I will pray to your God as if it's mine. Do it."

"Father, why do you speak in such rude words? Our faith is within us, and we may not impose on it, nor can we impose on it?" 

I was sad at my father for his shallow thoughts on the belief of the faith. Mother, when she was alive, used to take me to the place of worship, and we will pray on our faith. Most times for my recovery, as that was her main concern then. She used to drag my father along as he was not one of the strong believers, but he came along, for my sake. Like then.

"Hush, you girl. I am speaking to the priest." His words were a slap to me, for he rarely raised his voice towards me. I heard the shuffling then and the scent known to me of dirt and grime. There was a difference that day. The smell was there, but it was not pungent in my nostrils. It came then refreshing. 

What manner of man was I to meet?

"Fear not, my child. I meant you no harm. If you were to permit me your belief, I would like to extend mine. It's not any miracle I can do but the works of GOD. He works in many different ways that even I do not know how and why, but I leave it to his judgment on the action. I am but his faithful servant to serve his works here." 

I felt a hand on my forehead and then over my eyes. I remained still with my eyes shut tight, as even though I do not fear him. I could not move my body then. I was not in a spell. 

"I heard of your ailment from your father, but as I have said, I do no miracles. It's the work of God who does it. If he chooses to cure you, he will do so."

"I understand, Priest." I found the courage to speak then. "I do not impose on you for my recovery. I have been blind since birth, and all I need to see is within me. I do desire that I can see the things that others do. But one's desire and need can be a distance apart, never to be met. I am resigned to that fate." 

I knew myself from the days of those runs to see the healers in every corner, far and near. But none has done any, which will show me a slight belief that my sight will recover.

"Have faith, my child. GOD sometimes tests us in his works, but he is ever merciful in his grace. Maybe your ailment is not to be cured but a gift of the sort that you can work with." 

He may have spoken the truth, but my father was harsh to act. I can hear his whiplash on the priest as he cursed at the latter for the truth he may have spoken.

"Father, please do not do that. He speaks his mind, and I fear you are the one who cannot accept the truth." I reached out and found my father's arm. I pulled at him to stop his loathsome act on one who does us no harm except to speak his mind. 

"Forgive me, Priest. She is my only child and I do not want to see her walk alone when I am gone. You are a priest and have knowledge of the books. Pray teach her the words so that even if she were to be joining the convent, she might be a learned one and not a servant of the broom. I beg of thee for thy mercy in granting me this last wish." 

I was without sight but the rustling sound spoke to me that my father had  bent down to seek the priest's help.

"Arise, my jailer. I did say I cannot perform miracles, but GOD may. For what you asked later of me, it is not his work but mine. I can teach as I was taught, and she will learn as I have learned. But please heed, as what she would learn is my faith. If you can accept that, then the words I will impart to her will be the words of my faith to strengthen her beliefs in the way of God." 

I listened, and felt solace in his words. I felt enlightened in myself, as if I were free of my bonds. My mother was the other who could comfort like that. 

"Thank you, Priest. May I know your name, please?"  We were never introduced.

"My given name is Valentine. I am a priest of the House of God. I know your name, Rose, as your father has spoken of you to me. We can start our lesson as of now, as time is not on my side. Hush, Gaoler. I know my fate as well as you know the inmates in these cells. The Emperor will soon call on me for the execution, as he is vain and fears my influence on the numbers he calls his army. His decree that none may marry is against the Faith, as it's a selfish act of his thinking he is doing good for them. But MAN will fight well when he has a reason to fight, and what better reason than that of his family? None sits above his concern for his family, not even the emperor or king. He is a poor emperor with poor advisers around him. It will be his downfall if he does not get his ways corrected."

"Hush, Priest. I can save no more of you if you condemned the Emperor with your mouth. He is Almighty here, and his command is ours to order." 

I can sensed my father's fear for his Emperor, but I am sightless, and yet what is an Emperor to a Priest which both I cannot see? In my sight, they could be any image. I knew my father and mother well, as their image is defined by my mind, but if you asked me to describe it, it would be like telling you how an elephant can fly over the walls. 

Ha! That was what my mother told me once when I asked her to describe the boy next door. It's our line of jest in my sightless world."Rose, please sit by me. I would teach you not of written words but the spoken ones. They are faster and easier to pick up and, above all, remembered. But you must tell me when you tire or have other needs. Then I will continue on your return." 

I felt the calm hand on mine as he, who is a priest, led me to a place to sit by him. It was a hard surface and yet comfortable to sit on. 

"Thank you, Gaoler. Your offer of the drink would be much appreciated. Please sit, as my class need not be her alone. As a show of faith, I would teach all who would listen, as there is nothing to fear from the words of GOD."

Then it was to be a succession of days when I was to find myself with my father seated there with Valentine while he recites to us the words of his teaching. During those sessions, I heard the sounds of others who dwell in the other cells also lending their ears to this man of GOD. From the drones of his voice, I found fleeting images that shifted in my mind; one that cannot be described as it was the gift of the sightless only to see these images. 

I found my innerpeace seated by thes man and in return I brought him his daily bread for his meal. Wehn he speaks, his voice carried me to wonderful sights. I had sensed inside of me, the relief and enlightenment as if I were accepted by someone I could love and cherish.

It was to end that fearful day. I was on sickbed, and I was not able to move. I asked for the priest.  My father looked for the priest, and was asked to be given writing paper. He gave the priest his request, although it's unusual in the request. A note was written and told to hand to me. 

That day, guards came for the priest. My father knew what was awaiting the priest. 

My father approached the priest, and sought his forgiveness for I was not to come that day. 

"It is ordained, and I will walk the last day of my life alone. Do give the note I wrote for your daughter. Tell her not lose faith." My father took it from him with his face in sorrow, knowing that this was probably the last time he will hear the priest. 

With that done, the priest was led away from his cell by the others, leaving my father to cry in the cell alone. It was not him alone who cried, but the others who heard his words did the same. Some prayed for mercy from GOD for his soul and to deliver him from this world without pain. They are all willing to partake in his punishment in his place when their time comes. My father could not bear it anymore and he left for home to see me.

"Rose, Valentine asked me to give you this. He has been led to his execution at the Square." Father left the note in my hand while I lay on the bed. 

"Father, help me to sit please." I slowly opened the paper and felt my fingers over it. I felt nothing. It was just paper. I moved my eyes as if I had sight to see what was written. I asked for GOD's help in allowing me to see the paper as any living sighted person could. I laid my eyes on what was in my hand. Images started forming the image in my sight. It was coming in forms that I had not seen before. 

Was I seeing something different from my usual sight?I looked up and saw what appeared to be so different.

"Father?" It moved towards me. It was different, but I knew. It was my father, and I could see him then

GOD! I could see. My sight restored, and I can see it. I can see now what Valentine has told me for days to believe in: that GOD may be merciful to the ones who believe in HIM. 

Yes, I do. And I did because he taught me the ways of GOD. I looked at the paper now.It's an image of something, and yet it was pleasing... no, it was  beautiful then

"Father, what...is that I see in my hand?" I looked to my father for his assistance.

"It's the paper that Valentine gave you." I nodded my understanding, but I saw something on it. I pointed to it and asked him.

"It's a flower. It's a yellow crocus, which your mother used to plant in the garden." The flower had its petals floating from the stem and swayed around the room. It was ..beautiful to see colors.

"They are ....beautiful." I looked back at the paper and found something else on it."Father..."

"It's written by Valentine. He wrote it for you." I looked at him for to understand more. I could speak, but to read and write has not been my privilege.

"From Valentine; he wrote that for you. He loves you, Rose." My father hugged me for the first time since I recovered.

"No, Father, He loves me as I love Him for teaching me the words of GOD. He taught me how to love GOD, and in loving GOD, I learned to love HIM too. Just as much as I love you." 

Yes, Valentine taught us more than words. We shall be blessed that Valentine did not die in vain. He died for the love of the people to rejoice in the love of one another and also in GOD." 

For the first time, I cried since I recovered. I cried in joy as on this day, LOVE is declared with no barrier and imposed conditions.  

Preys and Predators Part 1 Chapter 29

 

29 Mary had a little lamb.

 

Mary sat at the same café, watching Baker Street. She was told to wait there for some news from Colonel Moran. It was unusual for her to be told, but she knew her uncle was watching for her. She saw the mother with the female child walking near her table. The child held a small lamb and was singing the famous lullaby.

Mary had a little lamb.

Its fleece was white as snow.

And everywhere that Mary went,

The lamb was sure to go.

(Extracted from https://modernfarmer.com/2017/12/true-story-behind-mary-little-lamb/.)

Ironically, Mary did not have a lamb but a little calf when she was younger in Kansas. It followed her at the ranch where she was growing up. As there was little to do then for a kid at five years of age, she spent her time with the calf. They went on walks around the house and over to the nearby creek, and she will sing the lullaby then.

“It is not a lamb, stupid.” Jonathan Thomas London told her that one afternoon. “It is a cow.”

She disliked that boy who was from a neighbouring ranch but spent his time at hers. She glared at the boy.

“He is mine.” Mary had said. “He is called John.”

“It is a she, and she is not a cow.” Jonas roared out in laughter. “Mary cannot tell the difference.”

Mary ignored the boy, and the next morning she was told that John had died. The calf was killed by the wolves. She cried and refused to have the calf buried, but her mother told her it was the way the dead were treated.

“Will he come back?” Mary had asked.

“No, when they die, they would not.” Her mother had said, but years later, Mary knew her mother lied. The dead do come back and become vampires.

The child approached Mary and gave her letter.

“The doctor says to give you.” The child then caught up with her mother. Mary read the letter and took leave of the café. She went back to her room and changed her dress to something more appropriate for her visit. The dark shirt and pants tucked into the high boots with the matching coat that trailed to her knees; she had the Stetson hat by the table alongside her coat. She was dressed in black except for the ebony gun handle of the gun on the left side of the waist belt with the hilt out. It was called the Texas Cross Draw, and her preference was the move.

The Colt M1878 or the Frontier was holstered there. It held six bullets in the chamber and held a length of seven and a half inches in the barrel. It was rather long compared to the Webley at the fur inches barrel.

Her calibre was the.45 Colt, but with an added change; her bullets were capped with silver.

“Them doggone blood suckers will be in pain if the bullet has not killed them, though the best place to shoot them was in the head.” Mary once told some hunters of her peers.

She also has her own Bowie knife in the rear of her belt. It was custom fitted for her by the blacksmith with the silver ingrained onto the blade.

When she was ten, Mary befriended a Sioux girl from the nearby settlement. Her name was Little Willow; she was named after her mother died giving birth to her. She had cried for days and nights longing for her mother’s milk, but then the Sioux were on the warpath with the US Cavalry, and they were constantly on the move. The Sioux conflict was in 1854, but the victory of Chief Sitting Bull at Little Horn dragged the war to the end of the 1870s. The Sioux nation was then to return to the reservations. One of them was near the Reid’s ranch, and Mary’s father was regarded as a blood brother to the Chief there.

Little Willow introduced Mary to the ways of the Sioux and her first lessons in the supernatural: the Windigo and their own demon, Two-Face. When Aunt Agatha died from the bites, Mary was fifteen, and she vowed vengeance.

“Hokahey! Today is a good day to die!”” Mary had called on the Sioux war cry. (extract from https://www.artofmanliness.com/character/knowledge-of-men/battle-cries/)

The knock came at the set time. She walked to the door and waited for the follow-on knock. It was done, and she admitted the man who was assigned to protect her.

“Thank you.’ Colonel Moran was not a man of many words. He stepped into the room. He was dressed in the usual tweeds design with the bowler hat. He carried a long leather case. He saw her looking at it.

“My arsenal of weapons, from the revolver to the rifle with the shortened barrel. One had to improvise for the situation.” Colonel Moran saw the revolver on the lady’s belt. “A powerful weapon. Would you prefer a derringer for discreet use?”

“I have no space for it. My knife is between my butt, and I reserved my front for more fleshy tools.”

“Oh, I will not intrude upon you.” Colonel Moran walked to the window. He was discreet to take the view from the side. He saw the assigned guards at both ends of the street. He then turned to look at the lady.

“The contract for your death had been issued at a total of twenty-five hundred pounds. It is a hefty amount for anyone.” Colonel Moran told her. “We are to know that the contract was issued by the Syndicate, a rival organization, but they are secretive. More than ours, but their operations were mostly out of the country. They may have termed you an external threat.”

“And how did you know?” Mary asked. In her line of work and her desire to say alive, she knew when to ask the right questions.

“I was given the option to do the task, besides many others.” Colonel Moran did a curtsy towards the lady.

“I am not honoured. In the continent, my death reward was twice that amount in dollars.” Mary smiled. The Colonel then leaned back to watch the street. He looked worried. The call sign was seen.

“We need to move you to some place safe. The coach will arrive shortly, and you will be taken to a safe house. Stay there till I come.”

“Are you sending me to a monastery among the muted and unaffectionate men? Or ladies?” Mary asked.

“Please move. I will stand guard here.” The Colonel opened the leather case to remove the rifle. “I will cover your movements.”

“Do not shoot my butts. They are my best part of my beauty.”

“Go now. The coach is here.” Mary took her leave, grabbing the coat and hat.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Preys and Predators Part 1 Chapter 28

 

28. Mr. Hyde and Doctor Jekyll.

 

“Why did you mention Mr. Hyde?”

Doctor Jekyll had sat down for dinner with the count. They had spent the whole day cleaning the mess by his monster self. Rosa was to assist, but in silence. She will utter a word during the cleanup, although she did prepare dinner, in which she excused herself to eat in her own room.

“Frightening is the woman’s mood. They said that Hell halts no fury than a woman’s scorn." The count smiled. “My love was the same, and for that I brought no other women to the castle without her approval. She may have bled me dry and served my carcass to the crows.”

"I... I am not an expert on that matter. Daisy, whom I befriended, was more to argue on intellectual matters. We …...”

“Hush, Doctor Jekyll. We best not discuss Daisy. Tell me of Mr. Hyde.” That led to the question here.

“Hyde? I am... I cannot recall. Was it what I said?”

“Or rather, your other self said it then.” The count looked at Doctor Jekyll. “Are you unwell, Doctor?”

“I am fine. I mean, I am now. The previous incident was a mistake of mine. I had the wrong vial injected.”

“Please, Doctor Jekyll. Please be honest. Do you have any... mixed personalities issues? A shadow of yourself perhaps?”

“I am not medically trained but had some associates who are in that line. What you are referring to there is called a multiple personality disorder. In general terms, it has been defined as longstanding and long-lasting maladaptive patterns of inner experiences and behaviours that seriously impair an individual’s ability to perform adequately in a variety of settings.” Doctor Jekyll smiled. “I cannot be having that, or I will have failed in my research work.”

“Have you read Doctor Benjamin Rush’s work? He is also a professor in chemistry." Count Vlad asked.

“Professor Rush? My peers in medicine adored him. His words, ‘Unless we put medical freedoms into the Constitution, the time will come when medicine will organize into an undercover dictatorship, gave them the drive to find a new cure.”

“Aha! You knew of him. Do you know he advocated studies of blood chemistry? He designed a tranquilizing chair based on his medical theory that mental illness was a circulatory disease. He intended this chair to control blood flow to the brain and reduce motor activity to help stabilize the patient's pulse. The effects of the chair were not harmful, yet based on contemporary medicine, they were also not known to have any medical benefit.”

(Extract from https://study.com/academy/lesson/benjamin-rushes-role-in-the-American-Enlightenment.html).

“Yes, I read that. It was his pioneering work on mental disorders." Doctor Jekyll nodded.

“He was the pioneer in the case of Mary Reynolds.”

“Count, are you implying I am with that disorder?” Doctor Jekyll was agitated by the count’s action. “I can assure you...”

“I had my denial on myself. I thought that maybe I was with multiple personalities: my rightful self as Count Vlad and the other as Count Dracula. My other personality appeared in the darkness when I was supposedly at rest. My affinity to sleep in the coffin was mine then, when I was a hostage of the Turks. I was made to sleep in one for many nights as a form of punishment. It grew on me the comfort and security of the bedding.”

“You are not Count Dracula.” Doctor Jekyll said.

“Yes, I retire early to my room, which you may have noticed.” Count Vlad looked at the doctor. “I cannot stand the heat of the sun. My skin burned, but it healed fast. I ……”

“You do not drink blood.” Doctor Jekyll interjected. “Your blood does have some unique properties and needed more tests.”

“I do have the strength twice that of the normal person.” Count Vlad smiled. “Undeniably strong but a shadow to your other self, Mr. Hyde.”

“I cannot answer that. I have no recollection there.” Doctor Jekyll sighed. "Hyde... is my pseudo-identity with Daisy. We used to communicate secretly, and her... Family ties were strict on whom she befriended. So, we created names for us to send messages. I was Hyde, and she was... darling. Darling. But I can tell you our feelings were platonic at best.”

“Now the identity surfaced. Why Hyde?”

“We have a play done once. It was modelled along the plot of Romeo and Juliet. We had the names changed, and I was Hyde. She was to be Mary, but most of the lines required me to call her Darling. We rehearsed and made amendments to the script, but the play was never staged. We were too busy doing our exam papers and missed several fairs that had accepted our play. So, eventually, we used the names for our messages.”

“Most interesting. Tell me, how did her father know?" Count Vlad asked.

“Well, she got sick, and I had to see her. I went to her home; it was huge and there were servants. I was taken in by the servant’s entrance, and somehow, I managed to see her in her room. It was ecstatic, but we were discovered. I was to be shot, but Daisy pleaded with her father to spare me. I was then questioned about my association with Daisy. I must have been convincing that her father asked me to find a cure for Daisy. I was then taken into his home to do so, but it did not work, and Daisy died. Her father was distraught but accepted her loss as inevitable.”

“I left their home, but Lord Dennis decided that I would do the work I was on. He wanted me to work for the government on secret projects. I was funded and given all the freedom to do my work. It was the words of Professor Rush who spurred me then: the freedom: ‘Unless we put medical freedoms into the Constitution, the time will come when medicine will organize into an undercover dictatorship’.”

“But my works were undercover.” Doctor Jekyll sighed. “Until you came.”

“You did love Daisy?” Count Vald pressed it on.

“Yes, I did, but it was over before we could tell each other. Only Mr. Hyde knew.”

“Do you at times wish you were Mr. Hyde?” The Count asked. Doctor Jekyll shook his head.

“I do not know. I am afraid of Hyde. I ……”

“I knew of one named Professor Freud.” The count told the doctor. “Once, he was to treat me as I said I could be of two personalities. He did not see me. He did not reply to my letters.”

“Sigmund Freud?”

“Yes, Sigmund Freud. I read of his view: a person who has a strong ego, which can balance the demands of the id and the superego, has a healthy personality. Freud maintained that imbalances in the system can lead to neurosis (a tendency to experience negative emotions), anxiety disorders, or unhealthy behaviors.”

(Extract from https://courses.lumenlearning.com/suny-hccc-ss-151-1/chapter/freud-and-the-psychodynamic-perspective/#:~:text=According%20to% 20Freud%2C%20a% 20person,anxiety%20disorders%2C%20or%20unhealthy% 20behaviors.)

“Carl Jung held similar thoughts as Freud on it. Dissociation is recognized by Jung as a universal and necessary psychic activity for the development of personality through the differentiation of functions. However, when the cohesion of consciousness is shattered by extreme childhood trauma, as it is in the development of multiple personalities, this natural differentiation of function is intensified and the dissociative splits between autonomous forces in the psyche become more extreme. This increases the autonomy of these’ splinter psyches from ego-consciousness and reveals their archetypal core. They then develop into the phenomenon of 'alternate personalities' in multiple personalities." Doctor Jekyll mentioned another doctor who was held in high esteem in the subject matter.

(Extract from https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/2808130/)

“Assuming the worst, could you at least consult the experts on your personality... split here? I am more concerned about your wellbeing,” Count Vlad asked the doctor.

“I …...” There was hesitancy on the side of the doctor. He then saw Rosa standing at the doorway.

It was then the door to the unit was broken open. A group of men rushed on with weapons drawn.

 

 

Preys and Predators Part 1 Chapter 27

 

27           Appearances and ascension

 

Professor Freud was at luncheon with several associates when he was handed the note by the staff at the club. It was most unusual but there was the instruction that urgent matters may be reached to him. He read the note and excused himself from the lunch.

“My apologies to the host. The Wellington Beef is a marvel here. I much adored my Flemish stew anywhere.” The Professor smiled.

“The hearty dish. I know that. I had that every time I was in your city.” The English associate laughed. “The hunks of beef, onion, thyme, mustard, berries and …... the unforgettable beer to add on.”

“The Old Brown……. I loved the beer there. It is more alcoholic and you will notice the fruity on the aroma and flavour.” The Hungarian associate smiled. “I will still go for my Beef Goulash; the one meal my mother does it. The meat and the vegetables seasoned with paprika.”

“To each of us. Our preference of taste is alike the ego in us. We think the best for our …... appetite.” Professor Freud laughed and got up He had then asked for his cloak and glove. “I must go now.”

The professor left the club and there was a coach waiting for him. There were two gentlemen in the coach.

“Good day, Admiral.” The Professor sat opposite the duo. “How are you, Mycroft?”

The pretence was over. Mycroft knew the Professor was not there just for lecturing. He was also on the task to oversee the interest of his government. It was told to him by the Admiral. Apparently, his section needs to be revamped on the data gathering.

“The person of interest to you was found dead. Maria Pleaste was among the seven dead victims.” The Admiral told the Professor. “We should had been more vigilant.”

“Regretfully but understood. She held a personality that even the Intelligence in my country unable to track her most times. Hence, I was asked to find her here when we were told of her arrival at Dover.”

“She was with another name then.” Mycroft added.

“Yes, Marie Antoine. One of her several alias that she uses. She held several identification papers from Portugal, France and from Romania; some genuine while others fake ones. She moved in stealth and hold connections to the underground.”

“Maria Pleaste is a revolutionary then” Mycroft asked.

“In a manner of speech. We struck independence in 1830 from the Dutch, and it was an uprising then.”

“Riots erupted in Brussels and shops were looted. Theatregoers who had just watched the nationalistic opera La muette de Portici joined the mob. Uprisings followed elsewhere in the country. Factories were occupied and machinery destroyed. Order was restored briefly after William committed troops to the Southern Provinces but rioting continued and leadership was taken up by radicals, who started talking of secession.”

“Dutch units saw the mass desertion of recruits from the southern provinces and pulled out. The States-General in Brussels voted in favour of secession and declared independence. In the aftermath, a National Congress was assembled.” The professor narrated the history.  The Lond Conference of major European powers recognized Belgian independence and Leopold I as King of the Belgians in that following year.”

“The Dutch attempted to reconquer Belgium and restore his position through a military campaign. It was called the Ten Days' Campaign but failed when the French military intervention. The Dutch accepted the decision of the London conference and Belgian independence was signed in the Treaty of London.”

(Extract from https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Belgian_Revolution).

 “The Pleaste clan was not in joy. They wanted the Dutch back and had since created chaos in the county. Mary Pleaste is the surviving member and holds great wealth. She supplying arms to the revolutionaries of the world, including the colonial states at Africa.” Professor Freud added.

“Why was she here?” Mycroft asked.

“The sea ports of the land were accessible to many parts of the other lands. She held an influence on the ships. She worked with the ship owners and then the rail roads to move her wares. She may be named as a weapon dealer, but her buy back was legitimate wares like spices and cottons, and slaves. Her family was into the slave trades for generations. They also supported the revolution in Mexico some years back. ”

“Is she a Wallachian?” Mycroft asked. He felt silly asking that but with the latest encounter with the Count, he was curious.

“I do not know. She could be Walloons; the Gaelic that may come from Romania.” The Professor smiled. “I do not support war; as to me it is a form of social life was originated in unresolvable conflicts and hence that civilization was always vulnerable to radical disruptions. It led to irrational "symptoms" of these primal conflicts.”

“However, my interest in Mary Pleaste is scientific in nature. She embodies the subject of my interest; ego. The ego is the part of the personality that arbitrates between the animalistic desires of the “id” and the moral and social standards of the ‘superego. If uncontrolled, it will lead to criminality.”

“And you want to study her character?” Mycroft asked.

“Her ego to be precise but now that she is dead, I have to re-look at my findings. There must be something I may had failed to read about her.”

“If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every ……” Mycroft was interrupted.

“Victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle.” Professor Freud smiled. “I have read the Art of War.”

“And Admiral Nelson’s strategy at Trafalgar battle. It was an unprecedented move, but the Admiral knew his enemy’s weakness, and exploited it. It was his super-ego at work.”

“Most remarkable, Professor. I would take you for an academic than a ….” Mycroft smiled.

“Nevertheless, I am a student compared to your brother, Sherlock Holmes. He did assist the monarchy of Bohemia once, and there was the Scandinavian.”

“Yes, a perception many had succumbed to over the years.” Mycroft envied his brother. Himself had many victories but there was no one to narrate it or even there was any attempt., The cell at the Tower of London was welcoming such idiots.

“Now we must focus on Mary’s works here prior to her death. Who wants to murder her, and is her death related to our monster’s murder?” The professor went into his thoughts.

“Mary?” Mycroft’s mind drifted the Kansas lady.