𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐩𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐦

Epilogue

"There are more things in heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy."
~ William Shakespeare, Hamlet

__________

...thusly, it is a great loss to science and to self that the Nosferatu did not survive the battle. I could not very well have resurrected him while among my on-board company. The fact that his heart was impaled and his head was severed likely would have made any attempt at resurgence fruitless. The dhampir spoke of the combination as if it were a "true death" of sorts for the vampiric cast.*

* Footnote: further research this idea of "true death." Coin phrase. Perhaps? Marketable? Up for debate. Revisit at a later time.

In truth, having been witness to the Nosferatu's strength, I must now deem him too dangerous and unpredictable to use as a pragmatic specimen. His existence, however, has instilled in me a great hope. If he exists, then others like him must also exist. Ancient beings of unthinkable power, immortals, gods... Perhaps in the strange and mysterious Orient, or along the shore of the Indian Ocean, or in the wilds of northern Africa, or perhaps even in the unknown frozen wasteland that is the Arctic.** If they exist, I shall find them. I'll collect them — the parts of them I require — and my experiments will continue.

** Footnote: ascertain from Victor the next ship in his fleet to depart. Date, time, etc. If a promising end location, I must secure passage aboard.

I keep no loathsome secrets from my own mind that I would gladly have harvested that irritating blonde harbinger for both her blood and tissue weeks ago, had it not been for Victor's fondness of her. He would be broken if anything happened to his well-nigh daughter-in-law. I respect most everything about the man, but his monumental affinity for sentiment does seem to be a hindrance for progress. However, having witnessed Miss Penn's maker in action, I now know her blood would be too weak and young to serve my purposes. She is but a month old. All the better that I leave her be. She yet may lead me to a discovery far more enticing than that of the Nosferatu without arduous effort on my part.

As she is intriguing to observe, I think she is best kept vigorous and in one piece. The idea that man is separate from monster is a notion I no longer care to entertain. That girl exists as the perfect duality. One foot in each world. Innocuous and insidious. She is more valuable left untouched. At present.

More data is required. I will find the answer. The assault of temptation is too great. This world is in the throes of scientific change, and I'll be damned if I am not the catalyst needed to spur the event!

G.R.
30th October, 1899

~ ~ ~

The cellar laboratory was cold as Dr. Rosencrantz concluded his notes on his findings and experience aboard the Prometheus. And his thoughts thereafter.

His losses had been considerable, what with the destruction of all of his freaks. But at the same time, nothing in science was really a loss as long as applicable information was gained, and therein, he had gained much.

And it had been fascinating to witness the drive and determination of the freaks — unwilling to relent in the pursuit of their meal, despite limbs, and jaws, and organs having been broken or removed. Even mutilated and torn asunder, the reanimated nonpeople were laborious to put down. That alone was valuable data.

The house above him was quiet, at last. Miss Penn and her judgmental vampiric beau had gone out. Evelyne and the dhampir were likely in the throes of fornication — an act of coupling that Dr. Rosencrantz would very much like to observe and take note of. Would reproduction occur? Possible, but not probable.

He placed a pair of glass vials on the examination table. Inspecting the contents of each vial in turn, he made note of the color, consistency, and odor. He was in need of a fresh cadaver. He would speak to his contact at London Hospital that afternoon.

He smiled to himself. Unbeknownst to his lovesick shipmates, Dr. Rosencrantz had managed to procure samples of the dead Nosferatu's blood and tissue before he had pushed the headless corpse into the water.

A new series of experiments was about to begin.

He would succeed this time. He could feel it. He could taste it.

He was so close...

The sound of a pernicious, amused chuckle polluted the air of the dank laboratory.

Dr. Rosencrantz whirled around, expecting to find that intractable dhampir lurking behind him.

Instead, his eyes fell on a refined, smartly-dressed man he'd never seen before. The man's hair was streaked with a dignified amount of gray, and rectangular glasses donned his sharp nose.

The man grinned, causing an involuntary shiver from the doctor.

"Gil Rosencrantz, isn't it?" the man asked. His expression and tone of voice suggested he already knew the answer.

Reasoning that there was no use denying the truth, Dr. Rosencrantz nodded his head. "That is correct, sir. I am," he stated. "And you are?"

"Jaques Stoker," the man said. He held out his hand. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Dr. Rosencrantz stared at the stranger with a slackened jaw and curious eyes. He didn't understand how this man who called himself Stoker had gotten into his laboratory, or how he had managed such a feat without making a sound. Unsure what else to do, Dr. Rosencrantz clasped Stoker's outstretched hand and shook it. It was cold. There was something otherworldly about this gentleman.

Something inhuman.

"How do you know me, sir?" Dr. Rosencrantz asked. He tried to hide how unnerved he was with his classic mask of disinterest.

Stoker did not appear to be fooled.

"Oh, I've heard some rumors," the strange gentleman said. "Very promising rumors. In truth, it sounds like you and I have a great deal in common."

"Is that so?"

"It is," Stoker confirmed.

"Such as?"

"Such as, you are interested in bringing the dead back to life," Stoker said, unnerving the young doctor further. "I myself have died and come back to life. Twice."

He held up two fingers and wiggled them, his grinning face somehow sinister and playful in the same instant.

Despite his mounting apprehension, Dr. Rosencrantz felt his eyes widened and his mouth twitch.

"You have?" he asked his unusual guest, unable to hide his excitement. "When? How?"

Stoker rested against the examination table, his posture languid, his expression ambiguous.

"I'll gladly answer all of your questions," he promised. "But first, I need you to answer one of mine."

Dr. Rosencrantz nodded eagerly. "Of course! Yes! What is it?"

Stoker studied the young doctor's face for several seconds, a gluttonous glint shining like hellfire in his eyes.

"Tell me, Gil," Stoker said. "Just how far are you willing to go in the name of science?"

~ * ~