Without A Heartbeat

Scarlett discovered that the Rebirth Clinic was a large establishment that housed several inhabitants, or patients as Henry Marlowe called them, just like Scarlett herself.

“We aid our patients during what we like to call the convalescence period,” explained Henry as he led Scarlett down a corridor with an exhaustive number of doors at either side. Small rectangles of reinforced glass had been set beside each entrance. As they walked, Scarlett caught sight of a Bloodling of probably only twelve years through one of the window. The girl bared her teeth and hissed. In an automatic reaction, Scarlett hissed back. With a squeal, the girl recoiled into the corner of the room. Covering her mouth, Scarlett glanced at Henry, to see her companion smiling back at her. “Learning to control your instincts is one of the attributes we treat.”

“Like the hunger?”

Henry’s expression faltered. “The hunger is the hardest urge to control. It can only be abated for a short time and must always be satiated. This is why we also teach self acceptance.”

Scarlett was taken to an office situated at the end of the corridor. It was a dusty room lit by candles and filled with books and knick-knacks that hummed with the scent of history. A blonde Bloodling, whom Marlowe introduced only as his secretary, was sitting on a leather chair in a corner of the room, a ledger balanced on her knee and a fountain pen poised in her hand. Henry motioned for Scarlett to sit in an adjacent chair before walking around an ornate desk and sitting down, clasping his hands and pressing his thumbs together.

Scarlett waited for someone to say or do something, but no one did. The absence of any sound was a very odd experience. There was no pulse in her ears to fill the void, no thump of her own heart. Just complete and utter silence. It was as if time itself had frozen, sealing the three of them in that singular moment for eternity.

“Timekeeping never was my colleagues strong suite,” said Henry, his words like thunder peals that shattered the quiet. “I had asked him to be here at the same time we were.” He removed a golden pocket watch from his suit pocket and inspected it for a moment, before replacing it with a click of his tongue.

A moment later a man in a white lab coat rushed into the room like a tornado. “Speak of the devil,” said Henry standing up.

“My apologies, Mister Marlowe, things took longer than I anticipated.”

Henry raised a hand. “Not a problem doctor. How is the session going today?

“Difficult,” he replied as he pushed the door shut behind him. “However, I feel that Theodore is finally turning a corner.” His accent was Germanic and flecked his words with soft tones that rounded out his vowels.

“Excellent,” said Henry with a nod. He gestured towards Scarlett. “Doctor Hudson, I would like you to meet Miss Scarlett Reid. Scarlett, the doctor here is one of the best recovery physicians we have.”

“Mister Marlowe you are too kind.” The doctor turned towards Scarlett and extended his hand. The handshake was excessive, as if he was an excitable dog with a stick. Facially he was an averagely handsome man, his looks emphasised by his change from human to Vampire. He had a strong jawline and smooth auburn hair that was receding at the sides. The rest of his features were completely nondescript, as if God had been carving a masterpiece and run short of ideas half way through.

“A pleasure to meet you, Miss Reid.”

“Good morning doctor,” said Scarlet.

The new arrival turned to Henry Marlowe. “Is the lady to be one of my new patients?”

“Partially.”

“Sir?”

“I would like share the responsibility of Scarlett’s convalescence. Miss Reid here is the ward of Huntmaster Solignis.”

The doctor raised an eyebrow. “I see.”

Henry stepped around the desk and settled on the edge, addressing Scarlett directly. “If someone with the Huntmaster’s reputation has taken you under his wing, then you are no doubt very important to him. As such, I will take you under mine for the duration of your stay here.”

“I don’t actually know him very well,” she confessed.

“Regardless, he is very interested in your recovery and I want to ensure that it is as swift and effective as possible.”

“How long do you suppose I will have to stay here?”

“That all depends on you. Every newborn is different. Your stay could be as short as a week, or as long as several months, depending on how well you respond to your treatment.”

Months? The thought of being parted from her family for so long was horrifying. “I will do whatever I have to,” she said.

“That is very good to hear.” Henry turned to the doctor. “I trust that my involvement is acceptable for you doctor?”

“Whatever you think is best, sir.”

“Fantastic. Do not fear Scarlett, between the doctor and myself, you will be getting the best treatment a Bloodling can receive.”

“Thank you.”

Henry crossed one leg over the other. “Right then, before we can begin your convalescence, we must learn as much about you and your situation as we can.” He gestured to the woman on the leather chair. “My secretary here will write down all the answers to the questions the doctor and I ask. That ledger will become our bible as we proceed. It will help us decide on the best course of action to take in order to guide you towards rehabilitation.” Henry nodded to the doctor. “If you would begin.”

Scarlett was then subjected to a barrage of questions, which Doctor Hudson fired at her in rapid succession.

“Birthdate?”

“The twenty-second of September, eighteen-fifty-six.”

“Birthplace?”

“Londonderry.”

“Name of parents and any siblings?”

“Desmond and Mary Reid. My brother is Connor.”

“Your father and mother’s occupation?”

“Da is a potato farmer. Ma does works at the village laundry.”

“Does your brother work?”

“No, he’s only ten. Plus he has Poliomyelitis. His right arm and leg are atrophied and he gets sick if he stays up too long.”

The questions kept coming, as the doctor asked her everything he could about her life and her relationship with her family. After a while, Henry raised a hand and the doctor fell silent.

“Scarlett, I am going to take over now. I will be asking you very personal questions and it is imperative that you answer them truthfully. Some will no doubt cause you distress, but they are all necessary to understand your mental state.” He looked directly at her. “Are you ready?”

I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for any of this.

“Yes.”

“Can you recall how many days ago were you bitten?”

Scarlett thought for a moment. “Ten, I think.”

“Who bit you?”

“A Bloodling called Gabriel Quinn. I was told that he was a traitorous Guardian.”

“Did you request for Gabriel to turn you into a Vampire?”

“Why on earth would I request something like that?”

Henry clasped his hands together. “Many individuals are drawn to the immortality and power that comes from being a Vampire. Several of the Bloodlings who have come through our doors struck deals with Vampires in order to be turned. Often for vast sums of money.”

“I am not one of those people.”

Henry made a sound of acknowledgement. “Did you like being bitten?”

“What?”

“When Gabriel bit you, did you enjoy it?”

Scarlett’s mouth fell open. “Of course not. It hurt. I was scared.”

“So you didn’t find it sexually arousing?”

“No!” She paused. That isn’t true. “For a moment,” she confessed.

Henry gave a nod. “Thank you for answering truthfully, Scarlett.” Next to her, the secretary wrote several things down. “So tell me, when you think of Gabriel now, do you yearn for him?”

“NO! I hate him!” she hissed.

“Why?”

“Because he stole my life and turned me into to a bloodsucking creature!”

The hand of the secretary scribbled in a blur as she made more notes.

“What would you do to him if you saw him again? Would you embrace him?”

Scarlett’s teeth slipped down from her gums. “No!”

“Tell me, what would you like to do to him?”

Scarlett stood up and slammed the side of her fist against the wall, creating a large hole. “I would like to rip his spine from his fucking body!”

Silence.

Henry and the doctor exchanged a brief glance and the secretary wrote something down in the ledger. “Okay thank you, Scarlett. Please take a seat and try to relax a moment. We still have several more questions to get through.”

Scarlett sat down, her chest heaving up and down in automatic response as anger rolled through her. She could feel herself slipping away, the feral side rising closer to the surface.

“Are you ready?”

Scarlett made some kind of sound, which Henry Marlowe took as consent.

“Did you kill anyone after your change?”

Flicking her head up, Scarlett glowered at the man. “You know I did. They would have told you.”

“Perhaps, but I want you to tell me.”

“Yes.”

“Who were the victims?”

Scarlett could feel the anger churning in her gut. It took all of her strength not to leap from her seat and attack the man who sat with his expressionless face, studying her.

“Michael and Lisa Granger, and Master Clarke.”

Henry looked to the secretary, who flicked to the front of the ledger. “Her childless neighbours and her former employer. Killed on two separate occasions.”

“Ah yes. Before you killed the Grangers, how did you feel?”

Scarlett grit her teeth together. “Hungry. Once I caught the scent of human blood I wasn’t myself. I couldn’t think of anything else.” She paused. “If I hadn’t been distracted by their stronger scent, I would have killed my own family instead.”

Henry curled his hands around the edges of the desk. “I see. So it was the hunger that drove you to kill them…nothing else?”

Scarlett recalled the moment she had stood outside the window, watching the Grangers as they made love. How it had reminded her of Master Clarke heaving over her as she wept. How the hunger had been overshadowed by something that came from a much deeper, darker place. “No,” she confessed. “When I saw them in the window, I felt consumed by anger. So I broke in and…”she choked back emotion and tightened her grip on the arms of the chair until she could hear the mahogany splintering. “I tore them apart.”

Henry looked directly at Scarlett. “I need you to describe this anger to me.”

“It was unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. It…it was so powerful. I couldn’t stop myself and…and I didn’t want to. All I wanted to do was break them apart and watch their pain. As I watched them die, a...a part of me enjoyed it.” A choking sound escaped from her throat. “Dear God, what is wrong with me?”

Henry’s tone changed from inquisitive to sympathetic. “There is nothing wrong with you Scarlett. You were suffering from a symptom called the Fury, which is bought on in some cases when a newborn reacts badly to the traumas surrounding their change.”

Scarlett nodded and wiped at her eyes. “I keep wishing I could go back, but I don’t think I would have been able to do anything differently.”

“You are right,” said Doctor Hudson. “At that stage, fighting the Fury would be an impossibility.”

Henry nodded in agreement. “Scarlett, how did you feel afterwards?”

“How do you think I felt?” she retorted. “I had killed two people who meant a lot to me. I was distraught.”

“What did you do? Did you flee?”

Scarlett shook her head. “I was disgusted.” She stared down at her hands, remembering how it had felt as they tore at her own flesh. “I attacked myself.”

The secretary scribbled something into the ledger after a glance from Henry. “Then did you leave?”

“I planned to, but I caught sight of my family and this sorrow that was greater than any I’ve ever felt took over. I felt so lost and alone.” She looked up at Henry. “I…I tried to kill myself, but it wouldn’t work.

More scribbling.

“Will…will you be able to help me forgive myself?” she added.

Henry gave a nod. “That is part of our job. We will do the best we can to aid you in accepting that which you could not control. You are doing very well Scarlett, we are almost done.” He shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. “Master Clarke stole your innocence did he not?”

The secretary stopped writing and glanced up at her employer.

Scarlett could feel her hackles rise at the blunt question. “Yes.”

“More than once?”

“Yes.”

“And he beat you?”

“Yes.”

“Often?”

“Yes.”

“How did his attacks make you feel?”

“How did that make me feel?” Scarlett glared at Henry Marlowe, her hands crushing the armrests of the chair. “Would you like me to explain what went through my mind when he would pin me down and whip me with his belt buckle until I couldn’t take any more? Perhaps I should explain the agonising pain when he forced himself inside me. How I cried and struggle, which would only make him laugh and hurt me more.” Scarlett’s voice rose until she was shouting, her outrage pouring into her words. “Should I tell you about the misery and desperation I felt after he left me each time, naked and bleeding from inside?” She stood up and her lips curled back into a snarl. “Please tell me which feelings you want to know and I’ll do my best to provide you with every tiny aspect so that your secretary can write it in that fucking book!”

Henry raised his hands in an appeasing manner. “Scarlett, please, I know that this is distressing, but-”

“I felt trapped and helpless!” she interrupted in a hissing voice that she barely recognised. “I thought I would be forced to spend every single day as a toy to that evil man until I was too broken to be used, or he got bored and moved on.”

The doctor and the secretary exchanged concerned glances, and Henry kept his his hands out trying to calm Scarlett down, but she ignored him. She had to grip the sides of her dress to stop herself slashing out at those around her and she could feel the seams tearing apart under her tremendous strength. “You are going to ask me next how I felt when I killed him. Let me tell you how I felt Mister Marlowe.” She leaned forward, her teeth bared. “I felt powerful. I enjoyed snapping his bones. His screams of agony sounded perfect to my ears. That man made my time at Oakley Manor a nightmare and his suffering was as beautiful as a sunrise. It was only after I snapped his neck that I felt…” her grimace faltered as she remembered staring at his broken body, “...nothing.”

Scarlett stood in the centre of the office, her hands still clawing at the folds of her dress. She had ripped away the material at her thighs and her legs were damp with her own blood. Blinking, she came around as if waking from a daydream. The atmosphere of the room was tense. The secretary was no longer writing; she had closed the book and was staring at Scarlett with an appalled expression. Doctor Hudson was studying the ornaments on the shelf, as if he dared not to make eye contact. “I…I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”

“I do.” Henry cleared his throat. “I am truly sorry for forcing you to remember traumatic events, but they have provided invaluable insight into your mental state. In my professional opinion, Scarlett, it is clear you are still suffering from the remnants of the Fury. After this period of time that is an issue, but not an unresolvable one. You’re emotions are erratic, and you give over to anger at the slightest provocation. Although it may not seem it to you, the animalistic part of you currently dominates, which unchecked will drive your future actions and decisions. It is something that we must balance out with your rational mind. The good news is that you are still very much capable of remorse, and therefore no doubt compassion and love also.” He turned to Doctor Hudson.

“Would you agree with that assessment, doctor?”

Doctor Hudson gave a nod. “As accurate a diagnosis as I would have given.”

Henry looked to the secretary. “And your notes?”

The secretary lifted the ledger up so that Henry could see and tapped a few points with the pen. “They reflect your thoughts exactly.”

“Brilliant. We now have everything we need now to proceed with the start of your treatment, Scarlett. It will be a hard road, but I have every faith we can bring you away from the anger to a state of acceptance.” He paused for a moment, lost in thought. “I think that we should begin with trying to eliminate the Fury before we move onto any other forms of recovery or training. How does that sound doctor?”

“I am in full agreement.”

“Then it is settled.” Henry gave Scarlett a smile that did little to lift her dampened spirits. “We can begin later. Right now, I think everyone could use a break.”