A Vicar's Daughter

Margaret and Penelope. Two names that fascinated Kirsty Scrivener.

The Department existed to deal with the most terrifying threat facing the world, namely the Great Old Ones, their abominations and their human devotees. Yet the Department was aware of other sinister beings in the world, including vampires. Kirsty had made it a habit to study what was known of the nosferatu and she had a particular interest in the two elder vampires who had made their home in Britain. She had scoured old historical documents for references to them. She knew Penelope was impossibly ancient and Margaret was from 17th century Transylvania. Penelope had spent some time in Japan in the 19th century and had been given the peculiar title of 'Lord High Executioner.'

Now Kirsty had a major lead on the two vampires. One of the Department's crack teams had captured a vampire, who had admitted to being Margaret's 'daughter in darkness.'

Kirsty made her way to the basement of the Department's headquarters, which contained secure holding facilities. Holding a powerful creature like vampire was not easy, but it could be done, if you knew their weaknesses.

The detention area for the vampire was dimly lit. She had been detained in a glass tank. The ventilation system was lined with silver mesh, which prevented the prisoner turning into a puff of smoke and escaping.

The prisoner observed Kirsty from the cell, eyes glowing red. She was leaning against the glass. She was dressed in a plain white gown and was barefoot. Kirsty had examined the clothes that had been taken from her. They had a Victorian look about them. Was she from the 19th century?

"Hi, I'm Kirsty Scrivener. I work for the British government. I was hoping to talk to you about a few things," said the Department agent.

The vampire shrugged.

"I do not suppose I can have my clothes back? I feel a little underdressed," she said. Her voice had a slightly odd pitch to it, though it might have passed unnoticed.

"Not right now. You're not going anywhere, so I think that gown should serve you well enough," Kirsty replied. "You told my colleagues your name was Charlotte Palmer. Is that right?"

Charlotte started to nod then her face elongated into a canine snout, her mouth displaying wickedly sharp teeth. She let out a growl.

"Impressive. I'm glad there is reinforced glass between us, though."

According to most accounts, Penelope and Margaret did not kill. They apparently drank the blood of either sleeping or willing mortals. This vampire was of a quite different sort.

"You have quite an appetite, Charlotte. You drained three people completely of blood in one night. I have only ever known a vampire to drain one human in one go."

"I was in a thirsty mood, Scrivener," she said, with an alarming smile.

"I hope you don't mind animal blood. If I get my way, you'll be drinking it forever in this place."

"Not forever. I have friends with big plans. Ideas about taking over this world. Putting our kind in charge. I do not know how long, but when the time comes, they will remember me."

That was a worrying idea. If vampires stopped being lone killers and started organising, they could be a considerable threat.

"That's interesting. Sharing information about things like that could improve your situation," Kirsty suggested.

Charlotte gave a disturbing laugh, then pressed her body against the glass of the tank. This time her whole body changed shape, shifting into a tentacled, jellyfish-like monster.

She looked so much like one of the abominations of the Old Ones. Perhaps there was some connection between the Old Ones and the vampires? It was something Kirsty needed to explore. She had tried to find ancient texts that might shed light on the origin of the nosferatu.

"If you don't want to talk to me, I can leave you and come back later. We are quite happy to keep you permanently imprisoned in here. We have all the time in the world."

At incredible speed, Charlotte reverted back to her human form. She padded over to the functional mattress she had been given. She slunk down and kicked her naked feet into the air.

"Thank you, Charlotte, it's a lot easier talking to you when you look like a human being," said Kirsty. It was strange to have such an awesomely powerful being as a captive. The abominations of the Old Ones were powerful, but they were generally not arrestable. Interrogating captured cultists was simply mundane.

"Tell me, are you a very old vampire?"

"I was given the dark gift in 1849. My father was a vicar in Kent, that was, until he was elevated to bishop of Chichester."

"A vicar's daughter! My father was a vicar too. My husband was a vicar's son too," said Kirstly with delight.

"The Church of England is not what it used to be," commented Charlotte coolly. "When my father became a bishop, I started getting invite to society balls. I began meeting lords and ladies and all the fine society people. Among them I met a certain lady of foreign origin, Margaret Zalasieu."

"Ah, that is a name I am aware of," said Kirsty.

"My sainted mother in darkness, who wouldn't kill a mortal and who spends her immortal life sulking. She gave me the dark gift and introduced me to the joys of blood and undeath."

"You met her own mother in darkness, Penelope?"

Charlotte sat up. Her face began to shift again, taking the form of another woman. Kirsty recognised the face from a painting she had seen. Penelope Grecian. Charlotte's face turned back to its usual shape.

"Of course, the two of them are never far apart. Trying so hard to be kind to the poor mortals. It didn't take them long to decide that I was a black sheep in their family of darkness. They drove me away. They never kill warm people, but I think they would have killed me. I fled to America. All those immigrants and drifters in the land of the free; they are so seldom missed."

Charlotte gave another long and disturbing laugh. Her mouth seemed to become rounder and oddly leechlike as she made her last laugh.

It was as though this creature had lost all its humanity and her usual human appearance was simply a habit to be discarded as often as possible.

"Like so many, I made my fortune in America. I even started my own religion there. Of course, I was the goddess to be worshiped; and I encouraged my devotees to offer themselves to me in sacrifice."

"It is regrettable, Miss Palmer that we cannot put you on trial for your crimes. However, we can certainly ensure you stay locked up here and never kill anyone again."

"So you say. I think differently. I tell you, a time of darkness, a new epoch is coming. I cannot say how soon. Nevertheless, your world of government departments and secret prisons is going to crumble before the chaos that engulfs the world."

Charlotte stared at her as she said these words. It was clear that she was slightly mad. Who would no mad when forced to live such an unending existence.

"Did you make other vampires yourself?" asked Kirsty.

"I made two. One of them I slew. She was treacherous. The other was weak. He fled off somewhere. I haven't seen him. Neither have I seen Margaret and Penelope. I know they are still alive somewhere I can sense their irritating presence."

"When did you return to England?"

"About a year ago. Somehow I developed a longing for country lanes, village greens and old musty churches. It is strange how one never escapes these things. They linger on one's memory."

"I suppose they do. I must go now. I am sure we shall talk again," said Kirsty.

"Are you just going to leave me locked up here?"

"Our scientists will study you. You may have noticed those robotic appendages in your cell. Obviously, we don't want our staff getting too close. We could learn so much from studying vampire biology. Goodbye."

Charlotte shifted into her wolf-like form again. She slammed herself against the tank and howled.

"Miss Palmer, behave yourself!" snapped Kirsty. "Remember you are a vicar's daughter!" Kirsty trotted out of the detention area.