Brides of Frankengeld Pt. 02

October 2nd 1784

Damion's Journal - He is listening to the hypochondriacal Herr Weil talking about his problems with his three lovers - his housemaid, his cook and his wife.

"And I don't know how it happened but I might have got careless. Sorina asked for Herr Stiffie last night but said that her room was a little cold and we should meet Herr Stiffie in my bedroom. And she anticipated she would be hungry afterwards. So I told Bettina that I needed her to set a fire in the master's room tonight, and I may have mentioned to Aldina that it might be nice to bake some rozky, for consumption that night in the master's room."

"So what happened?" I was beginning to see where this might lead.

"I arrived in my chamber, having taken a dose of your powders, to find a fire burning, food on a side table, and all my lovers in my bed. They were all unclothed, all sitting up against the headboard. Six titties and three stern faces pointed in my direction. Three fannys ready for Herr Stiffie. I had thrown off my dressing gown without even looking at the bed and so Herr Stiffie was pointing at them, uncovered, when I turned around."

"Ah," I said, understanding his plight.

"They were sat graded by age and hair colour..."

I must have looked confused, he offered an explanation.

"... That is to say that Bettina, the youngest, was to my left. Then my wife in the middle. And cook, the oldest, to my right. Bettina's hair is fair, as is the fine hair upon her pleasure garden. Sorina's is red and her pubes are carroty coloured. Aldina has lustrous black locks and her pleasure garden has the most hair of the three of them, dark and thick. I stood, thinking how well arranged they were, but unable to decide what to do. What Herr Stiffie wanted to do was to work his way along the line, pleasuring them each in turn, until the chamber was filled with the sounds of their groans and gasps. It was possibly within my reach but their stern faces made me fearful to try the adventure."

I understood his plight. I had heard of a case, back in Engolstadt, where a man had been castrated by his jealous wife for unauthorised fornicating with a neighbour.

"It soon became clear," Herr Weil continued. "That they had been talking to each other, and even worse, listening to each others tales. My wife glared at me and said that they would, in future, be deciding my contribution - as they called it - to pleasuring. They seemed to have thrown away all conventions of status in the household to become a triad of Fates, like in the ancient myths. And Sorina, who seemed to be their voice, said they would select whom I would pleasure, when it happened, and for how long I must perform. And if I didn't comply, or failed to rise to the occasion..."

He looked at me with terror in his eyes.

"They left the threat hanging," he whimpered. "Three women who all believe themselves betrayed. Now bound together in shared desire for Herr Stiffie. Which is why I believe I'm going to die soon. If I don't do what they want then... I think they will kill me."

"Really?"

"Yes," he quietly muttered, wringing his hands. "While I stood there naked, in terror of them, there was much talk of poisoned wine, of embroidery needles pushed into vital organs, and of clubbing to death with logs intended for the fire."

"Well yes," I was forced to agree. "I suppose there are many ways in which the women of a household could do harm, if they decided it was necessary."

"Quite. Until then I had chosen my moments to pleasure, when I was confident I could thrust in a manly manner. They were talking about becoming hard to their order. And remaining hard until the object of my efforts had achieved satisfaction. My wife said that for years she had failed to get satisfaction from me. That was, it seemed, going to change."

"Oh," I replied, biting my tongue so as not to add that many a man would be delighted to be in his situation.

"I told them that you can't always get what you want."

"Well, that's true," I replied.

"But they each waved a bottle of your tonic at me that they had hidden under the sheets. They knew how to make me hard."

"So how did the evening end?" I asked. "Since you are still alive I suspect some compromise was achieved."

"I was forced to pleasure my wife with both of my other lovers watching me perform. Sorina lay upon her back and spread her thighs. She took me into her and told me to fill her fanny with Herr Stiffie, then demanded I work harder and faster. Her servants caresssed her, and put their hands upon my buttocks to help me thrust. When I showed signs of flagging they slapped me and I was not allowed to stop until I had planted my seed in my wife, twice, and had witnessed her scream her climax three times."

"It sounds as if your fitness level has improved greatly," I observed.

"Then, as I rested, they told me their other news."

"Which was?"

"That each of them has missed their flow... you know... their monthly bleed... their lunar emissions. They are, they say, all pregnant. With child. From me."

"Ah," I suddenly understood. "So you wish me to make a home visit..."

"... to give them all a physical check up," he replied, finishing my sentence. "If they are pregnant then they must be looked after. Pampered even. It may go some way to saving my life."

I arranged to visit his house one afternoon in the next day or so, assuming I had no emergencies to attend. And saw him out into the hallway. Una was there with a little package for him.

"I've made up your preparation, Herr Weil," she smiled, knowingly.

He took the package and clutched it to his chest.

"Oh thank you mistress Una," he replied. "It is as strong as ever, I trust, for it is very important that it continues to work its wonder on... downstairs"

He pointed at his crotch.

"I have made it most carefully, sir," replied Una. "It will not fail you."

"Thank God," he replied, put the package into his satchel, and she escorted him to the door.

I suspected that now Bettina had told the other women of the household that this was how Here Weil was achieving his performance the preparation would be taken from him. And he would be fed it when they decided Herr Stiffie should perform. Some men would be upset that they were now at the beck and call of three ladies, but others would find it the fulfillment of their fantasy. An interesting result to my treatment, but at least Herr Weil wasn't now worried about his myriad of symptoms.

Una saw him out and, on the doorstep, received the post. It was lunchtime so I sorted through the letters sitting at the kitchen table. There was a note from my brother, inviting me to Durishaus to discuss some legal matters left over from the deaths of our mother and father. Two letters asking for repeat prescriptions to be made up, which Una took charge of. And there was a letter to Helena from Alicia in Vienna which she sat and read out loud from beginning to end, pausing only to ask my help where she found a word hard to read. Everyone clustered around to listen.

Letter from Alicia, Countess von Hinterleitner

Dearest Helena,

We have arrived in Vienna, one of the great cities of the civilised world, and I must own up to two truths. The first is that I already miss your company, you who were the first to talk to me as if I were a person in many a hundred years. The second is that Vienna knocks me off balance in ways I never anticipated.

The journey was uneventful. Lord Philip and Stephan shared the driving and we made good progress. We have booked into a tavern on the outskirts of the city and Stephan said he would stay there and guard the coach. Once we had changed from our travelling clothes, we walked into the old quarter to visit a restaurant that Lord Philip said serves fine food and even finer wine. The last, of course, being my favourite. I have brought with me a good supply of your love's not-blood tonic, but one cannot arrive at a restaurant bringing your own food. It is simply not done. So this evening I stuck to wine.

Vienna seethes with life, even at this late hour, and this is one of the things that has unbalanced me. I have never been amongst so much hot blood. Bodies everywhere, full of energy, full of life, full of desire, full of blood. Even the street prostitutes who would, in most towns, look tired and drained of life are somehow well fed and still enthusiastic for their trade. As we walked past them Lord Philip was encouraged to enjoy their delights as they pouted, and made great O shapes with their mouths, and partially exposed their large bosoms to him.

The other thing that unbalanced me was the Viennese people's lack of caution. Everyone, not just the whores, were laughing and joking, walking in small groups, or pairs. There were even solitary men and women. All paying little attention to anything other than their pleasures. Their skills at observation seemed pitifully small. I could see pickpockets plying their trade with impunity, and in some darker alleyways men with mean expressions, and a cosh, waiting doubtless for a lone rich person.

Lord Philip had encouraged me to wear bold clothes this evening so I had chosen for my talisman to make me a long leather skirt in black, slit at the right side from hem to thigh. And a bodice in black and red that made the most of my bosom. Over that, for the evening was chill and I wished to dress appropriately, I was wearing a black cloak with a scarlet lining. The collar had points that stood up tall and sharp. He approved the look.

If I had worn this in the streets of Carlsbruck, at this time of night, people would have crossed the street to avoid me. They may even have decided this was a bad night to be on the streets at all, and scuttled home. But here, in Vienna, nobody gave any looks other than admiration. I walked in their midst and they did not see the danger. It was as if they had never heard the word vampire. Here was temptation indeed, such as I have not felt since I made my vow to you and Damion. It would be so easy to feed here, provided you selected a meal that nobody would miss.

I predict that, if this decline in knowledge and wisdom continues, there will come a day when an enterprising vampire will try to make his or her home in the heart of one of the great cities like Vienna, Paris, or perhaps London. A deadly danger that none would recognise.

The restaurant was as fine as Lord Philip remembered. Apparently he came here in the early weeks of his exile. It was tempting to stay in Vienna, he said, but the cost of living was too high for his funds, and so he continued east until he discovered Carlsbruck. On seeing the prices at the restaurant I could understand why, they were double what one might pay at home. The wine was delicious however and everyone enjoyed their food. We sat, in comfort, and planned the heist.

We decided we would visit the museum tomorrow, as tourists. This, Lord Philip said, was called 'casing the joint'. He has lots of phrases for what we are doing which makes me wonder if he has done this sort of thing before. He said it would be easy to pretend to be nobles on the Grand Tour and this would allow us to view the entrances and some of the internal features of the building. We decided we would not, however, ask to see Monifa's property as Damion's friend had done. Two sets of people asking to see the same, supposedly insignificant, Egyptian relics might be remembered. Or even worse, the museum staff might think they are not insignificant and put them on open display. This would make it much more difficult to remove them without someone noticing.

One we had done our 'reconnaissance', as Lord Philip also described it, we would return after dark, break in, and obtain what we needed. Monifa has already performed some magic, creating replicas of the items, which we will leave in their place. Apparently poor people in her land would be buried with low quality versions of the grand items that nobles and priests took with them to their tombs. The drawer of 'insignificant items' as the museum had labelled them would become truly insignificant. We hoped that they would not be studied for many years, at which point nobody might remember the exact nature of the originals.

We finished our meal with schnapps, I chose a cherry flavour and Monifa selected a pear variety. I forget what Lord Philip and Poppy had, for the return journey was eventful. We were walking and Philip and Poppy, arm in arm, were being as unobservant as the rest of the people of Vienna. Doubtless the alcohol we had consumed had blunted their senses. Monifa and I positioned ourselves a few paces behind them where we could look out for danger. And danger arrived in the form of a pickpocket who, under the guise of accidentally bumping into Lord Philip, relieved him of his wallet.

I strode forward, Monifa following, and I grasped the man by the shoulder. He grinned and went to pull free, confident of his strength, and then his expression turned to fear as I held him fast. I leaned in close and whispered, "You have stolen something from my friend. I advise you to give it back." I was furious that he had treated us so badly, assuming us to be fools, and I think it showed. I took him back to Lord Philip and looked hard at the thief with a little inclination of my head to goad him into doing the right thing. He tapped Philip on the shoulder and gave him the wallet. Philip assumed the fault was his, that he had carelessly dropped it, and thanked the man profusely for its return. He even gave the man a coin as a reward.

Monifa whispered to me that the thief's pockets were full of other people's property. I know we are planning a robbery but only to recover what belongs to her, and she would be the first to reject taking any other items. The man looked at me with an expression that asked if he could go now. I released him but then, before he could make himself scarce, Monifa whispered to him, "All of them. Return all of them."

I could feel the power of her blood magic, and glanced around alarmed that we might have drawn attention to ourselves. I needn't have worried, nobody had noticed. The man looked at Monifa in surprise, then walked over to another pair, a husband and his wife. He gave her a fine gold bracelet that, somehow, he had removed from her wrist. And a purse to the man. The husband was not as forgiving as Lord Philip and immediately understood they had been robbed. A scuffle followed and a watchman arrived. The pickpocket proceeded to voluntarily fill the hands of the watchman with stolen goods.

As we followed Poppy and Lord Philip out of the little square we came across another watchman, drawn by the sounds of angry raised voices.

"Madam," he said to me respectfully. "What is this commotion?"

"Your colleague has caught a thief," I replied, pointing at the pickpocket who was continuing to remove items from the many pouches inside his coat. "He may need help with the arrest and the stolen goods."

The watchman hurried to help and we turned the corner into the road that led to our tavern. Halfway down this road was where the street whores gathered and, when we caught up with our companions, we found Lord Philip deep in conversation with one. Poppy was standing in the middle of the road waiting for him to finish.

"Does Phillip seek companionship?" I asked Poppy.

"He is negotiating a treat," Poppy giggled. "For me. It is the anniversary of the day we met."

We stood for a minute while the bargaining concluded and then we walked on. To my surprise none of the whores followed us. I began to wonder what Lord Philip had asked for, clearly something special that could not be immediately provided. When we arrived at our tavern a short while later we found Stephan playing dice with some of the other residents but it was late so, after warning him not to lose all his money, we retired to bed.

Monifa and I were to share a room and next door Lord Philip and Poppy had their own. And it was when we were nearly ready for bed that Monifa stiffened, made a little cry, and dashed to the door. Her heart was racing so I followed, ready to protect her from any harm. Her magic is powerful in many ways but she is still vulnerable to being physically attacked. She opened the door and stepped out into the corridor and then stopped, every muscle in her body was tensed.

"Hail Nubian," she said, in a low voice, and gave a deep curtsey.

I quickly moved into the corridor and stood close behind her. Facing her, a short way down the corridor, was an enormous man. The last time I had seen such a tall, powerful, man was when we met Victor Frankenstein's creation. This man could have stood toe to toe with him. His skin was as black as Belali's and his head was smooth. Bald, or shaven, I could not tell which, it gave him a noble, almost kingly appearance. But, for all his great size, he had bent the knee to Monifa, though he looked a little puzzled as to why.

Then he stood and knocked on the door of the room next door to us. Poppy and Philip's room, which was opened to him. He went inside and we heard a squeal of joy from Poppy before the door was again closed.

Monifa and I retreated to our room. Clearly the visitor next door was expected. It was obvious that Philip had decided to celebrate the anniversary with Poppy by providing her with a partner of impressive proportions. My hearing is acute and I could perceive laughter and ribald comments through the wall. Sounds of good humour. There was no danger but I wondered what Monifa's manner of address to the giant man meant.

"He is a Nubian," she replied. "The race of people who lived beyond the lower kingdom. Past the cataracts in the Nile. They are a noble people and at one time, long after I was entombed, they were Pharaohs over over both upper and lower Egypt. Before the Greeks came. And finally the Romans."

There was much in that statement I did not understand but I was distracted by Poppy shouting something on the lines of 'you are so big, my friend!' followed by the distinct sounds of a creaking bed. Monifa was explaining further, something about the long history of her people, but all I could hear was Poppy groaning and begging her visitor to continue to eat her. Some sages have suggested that dark skinned natives have a habit of cooking and eating those who fall into their clutches but I could not help thinking, from the sounds that Poppy was making, that she was referring to a different sort of eating.

The consuming of Poppy continued for quite a long time. Long enough for Monifa to conclude her brief description of the history of the Nile valley. And at times Poppy became quite breathless and inclined to make squeaking noises. Then there was a pause when no sounds emerged from next door at all, except perhaps very quiet slurping and kissing sounds, which made me think that Poppy's mouth was occupied in a task that prevented her from groaning and moaning as much.

The peace of our room was shattered by a scream. It was Poppy saying, "Oh Lord, that's so big!" A chorus of gasps followed, with the word 'yes' repeated frequently and with increasing volume. Then the bed next door started to creak, a fast beat of wood rubbing on wood. Whatever was happening on that bed was not sleeping but something much more energetic. I glanced over at Monifa to see she was holding her hands over her ears.

Although she is old enough to grant permission for pleasuring, being perhaps nineteen years of age, Monifa has always seemed most innocent to me. She seems to have little knowledge of pleasuring. Or perhaps a fear of pleasuring. But I do not know why and she is reluctant to explain. Perhaps the reasons will emerge in due course. I took her hands and, despite the sounds coming from next door, which were getting louder and louder, I engaged her in conversation.

We chatted about many things as Poppy told us - through the wall - how much she was enjoying her gentleman and, on several occasions, how she was achieving her climax. Her lover had enormous stamina, for they carried on in this way for a long time and I could hear Lord Philip suggesting to the Nubian different positions in which Poppy enjoyed her pleasuring. But, eventually, the sounds faded and Monifa was able to sleep. I sat at the little writing desk and penned this letter. I shall take it down to reception for it to be included in the mail bag to Carlsbruck in the morning, and hope it gets to you safely.

Your friend

Alicia

Postscript - I also need to talk to you about a letter I have received from the Chief of Police. It has disturbed me greatly. You have brought me from darkness into a world of light and fascinating things but I never expected that I would be challenged in so many ways.

Damion's Journal

After Helena read Alicia's letter, and I have to say she did a very good job, her reading is really coming along, I left her and Una to create, and deliver, the repeat prescriptions and returned to my study to research a cure for a werewolf.

Several hours later and I had got nowhere. Every book I studied, even the ancient tome that the delectable Sophie had given me, had nothing to say other than to recommend death by some sort of silver implement, sword, club or bullet. There was some extra information suggesting that bullets made from a silver crucifix are particularly effective but other authors commented that this tale was probably made up by a Bishop to imply that Christianity held sway over the creatures. It was suggested that the reality was that many crucifixes were made of high grade silver, and were the most convenient source of the metal. And it is clear it is the metal that has the deadly effect on the creatures, not where it comes from. What the Lord God thinks about someone melting down an image of his son, to slay a werewolf, was not recorded.

Helena rescued me from the pile of books with a cup of coffee. "Any luck Damion?" she asked, her cheerful face lifting me from my study of death by silver.

"Not yet," I replied.

"Did you want to know what Sebastian had to say about Sophie?"

I would love to know about the delectable Sophie, I thought. I was always careful not to call her delectable in front of Helena. The word was linked to my fantasy. That Sophie and I, representatives of two noble families, might one day make an alliance. By which I meant that she would share my bed as my wife, a marriage of equals. Whenever I saw her in my daydreams, I confess, they contained a lot of bed sharing. Energetic bed sharing with no clothes in sight. With Sophie riding me and mauling her own tiny, but perfect, breasts as she lifted and lowered herself on my member. A daydream I was strangely reluctant to talk about with Helena.

Then I had a thought that was most unworthy. A way to make fantasy a reality. I imagined telling Sophie that Julia was a werewolf, and where she was hiding. Sophie would fulfil her vow and proceed to slay her, and then would be free to marry me. We could emerge from Church to the glorious sounds of the wedding bells... while Sebastian wept over the corpse of his beloved. I shook my head to rid myself of this plan, and felt very guilty for imagining it.

"Sorry Damion," said Helena. "Was that a no? Because I've never known you not to leap on any news of Sophie."

Because I want to leap onto Sophie's thighs, I thought, leap upon her thighs and push my member into that perfect pleasure garden. Then I spoke, "No... yes... sorry Helena. Please give me your news."

"Sebastian," started Helena. "Says that Sophie believes that the creature your cousin Victor Frankenstein made is not dead."

"Not dead!" I was alarmed.

"She has been visiting the old windmill and has studied the remains of that building. There is no charred body, no bones, nothing to prove the monster died in the flames."

I was aware that very high temperatures were needed to completely reduce a body to ash. The mill had burned hot, but not that hot. There should be some remains. And I knew that Sophie was a meticulous adventurer, she would have been unlikely to miss any evidence, or clues as Freida called them.

Helena continued, "She has discovered that there is a hollow space under the windmill, and intends to descend into it to investigate. The local people say that the mill is haunted now, by the ghost of the monster, and will not go near. She has been able to visit without being seen, and plans to return."

My stomach dropped and I felt a chill up and down my spine, my body reacting to a fear that Sophie might be harmed by going into what could easily be the lair of a murderer. The last time I felt this sensation was during the argument Helena and I had about facing Kurt, when she insisted on coming along to help me fight him. Obviously the sensation, a reaction by the body to turmoil in the mind, was for different reasons. Today it was the fear of danger to a noble woman, whom I think I love, and who might one day be my bride. All those weeks ago it was evidence of concern for the health of my low born assistant. Very different situations, except I do remember saying to Helena that I loved her, just before I attacked my father. I'm not sure why.

I think I was just trying to be nice, to make an acknowledgement of her declared love for me, knowing I was likely to die, and I would not be required to follow up on the statement. But here I am, alive, and - to my shame - I have pretended since that day that I have no memory of it. You see if I do love her then honour demands that I do something about it, but all my upbringing tells me that to marry a peasant is impossible, unacceptable, and that the world would descend into chaos if strict social order was ignored in such a way.

Helena - who has worked very hard to leave her peasant status behind - continued, saying, "Sebastian asked a favour. He said he would normally escort his sister in dangerous investigations but that, at the moment, all his focus is on keeping Julia safe, and keeping her from hurting those around her."

"Perhaps I should escort Sophie," I blurted out, possibly a little too quickly and with too much enthusiasm.

"I thought we both could go," suggested Helena.

"Well yes," I was forced to agree. "We could both go."

Helena has always said that, if I go into danger, she wants to be by my side. I had learned that resistance to her will in this, is futile.

"Good, Damion," grinned Helena. "Then it's agreed. Sebastian has given me the name of the tavern that Sophie is using as a base. I will get a note to her and we can arrange a suitable time."

"A tavern?" I cried. "She's staying in Carlsbruck?"

"Yes," replied Helena.

I was a little upset. Why did Sophie not come to see me? We could have offered her the spare bedroom here, she would have no need to put up with a tavern room. I was tempted to ask Helena the name of the tavern, but then I saw her expression. She was looking at me with evident tension in her eyes. She has always joked about me replacing her with another woman. She said this of Una, and various others. But the jokes, I fear, cover a real worry that I might reject her, put her back on the streets where I found her.

"Shall we take Una and Belali out for a treat tonight?" I asked, trying to change the subject and not think of Sophie and her wonderful thighs, or of love between a noble and a peasant.

"That would be nice, Damion," Helena replied. "Let's go see Elodie at the Kaffeehaus."

When we returned to the kitchen to announce the treat, we had a wide variety of responses.

"Very nice of you Doctor," said Anya, dryly. "But I must visit my sisters this evening. They have found a youthful man, Florin, they wish to introduce me to."

Anya was no longer able to take her pleasure from Yani now he has moved to Durishaus. It looked like her sisters had found a substitute. And I, for one, would not like to get between my cleaner and her bodily needs. She might be old but she's also a witch and clearly still sexually active. Very active.

"Then we will have to forgo your company," I said.

In contrast Una looked delighted at the idea of the trip out, saying, "That would be lovely. Will Elodie be reciting one of her poems?"

Elodie's poems were now famous, possibly for all the wrong reasons. It was rumoured that hack authors now visited the Kaffeehaus and made transcripts of her work, which they sold as broadsheets on the streets, complete with erotic woodcut illustrations.

"I'm not sure," I replied. "But it would be nice to see my sister again."

Belali sat silent. Of course she was normally silent, but she usually joined in with her clever gestures. Not this afternoon. She stared at the floor.

"Belali," said Helena, quietly. "We would love you to come with us."

Una and I turned to her and nodded our agreement. Belali looked up at us.

< stay home wash hair > she signed.

"Your hair's just fine," replied Anya, who always seemed to understand her without watching her hands. "You need to get out of this house, lass, nice as it is."

"Belali," said Una. "I came to this house a maidservant. A runaway servant at that. But I am now a trainee apothecary. And... I believe... a friend to Damion and Helena. We do things together, for the joy of it, will you not come with us?"

< I shame you >

"We are not ashamed of you," I said. "We want you to be our friend. But, if you want to stay home and adjust your hair then that's fine. We just thought you might like the Kaffeehaus. Even if my sister's poems are a bit naughty."

We agreed we would eat street food on the way. To save having to prepare tea. And then we split up to go get ourselves ready. Anya left for her tryst and, when Una, Helena and I came to the front door to depart, we found Belali sat on Yani's chair. She was, for the first time, wearing the warm cloak we had bought her.

Helena led the way through the streets with Belali at her side and Una and I walking behind. When we were getting dressed for the evening we had decided, or at least Helena had decided, that she and Belali would lead the way. That way Belali could not trail behind on her own looking like a servant, or worse, a slave. There were a few food stalls in the market square, so we headed for one we liked.

The Summer Fair had gone, the stalls and rides disappeared to wherever these things went for the winter, hopefully to return next year. But that didn't mean the square was totally empty. There were the hot food stalls that the taverns provided to serve the evening customers, and several wagons parked up.

The wagons were the first arrivals for our winter entertainment, the Dark Circus. So called because it stayed for October and November each year, and the performances only occurred after sunset. They traditionally set up in a field about half a kilometre outside town.

"Master Damion," said Una, slipping her hand into mine. "Will we visit the Dark Circus this year?"

"I cannot think of any reason why not," I replied. "I remember when I was young I was fascinated by the sideshows, and the acts in the big top were astonishing, a cacophony of music, light and feats of athleticism."

"I could never afford to do more than wander amongst the sideshows," replied Una. "Some repelled me, some I wished to explore, but I never had the coin to explore behind their curtains."

"Well this year," I promised. "We will all go, when our friends have returned from Vienna."

Una squeezed my hand and smiled up at me.

"And," I added. "You may go behind any sideshow curtain you desire."

We had now arrived at the stall and Helena and Belali were choosing their food. As well as the traditional Kebabs there were Langos - flatbread with sour cream, Piragi - a bun stuffed with bacon and onion, Kibinai - a pastry with mutton and onions, Covrigi - a cheese filled pretzel and even Kurtoskalacs. These are my personal favourite, a variety of cake, wrapped round a spit, and coated with sugar and cinnamon.

"And Una," I added. "Both the Summer Fair and the Dark Circus will soon have to look to their laurels."

"Why, Master Damion?"

"The new building," I explained. "That is going up on the edge of town by the river is, I understand, to be an Opera House."

"What is opera, Damion?"

I resisted the temptation to say that it was a good play ruined by singing. That it usually took the hero or villain a very unrealistic twenty minutes to die, even when shot in the heart. And that the leading lady was capable of taking at least that amount of time to say she had instantly fallen in love.

"It is a play," I replied. "Set to music, where the actors and actresses sing their lines."

"It sounds jolly!"

"We shall see," I tried to look cheerful, to hide the fact that the only performance I had attended had been gloomy from start to finish, and had ended with corpses littering the stage. Jolly it was not. And it had taken over three hours to get to its unhappy conclusion. But not all opera was dark and murderous, some was jolly and full of light and I sincerely hoped that was the style to be adopted in our Opera House.

Our conversation halted while we selected our food and then we took our places at a bench to eat. My kurtoskalac was delicious. Helena had selected a piragi, Una a covrigi and Belali some langos. I watched her carefully, looking for signs she was troubled at being outside. She seemed to be enjoying her food and she spotted me looking at her.

< good food > she signed, and gave me a little grin.

"I'm glad you like it," I replied. "I wonder how Monifa is getting on with recovering her property?"

< done now > she signed, < coach home... or in chains >

"You're right," I agreed. "They should have done the heist by now. If they didn't get caught." Belali's sign for chains was very expressive, as if from personal experience. I sincerely hoped my friends weren't now languishing in a prison cell. Though what cell could possibly contain Alicia and Monifa if they were determined to be free? Lord Philip and Poppy on the other hand would be more easily contained but I suspect that our undead friend, and our sorceress, would be unwilling to abandon them. They would orchestrate a prison breakout!

< why steal? > signed Belali, with a puzzled look on her face.

She didn't understand the significance of the items, having arrived at number 34 a long time after Monifa had given Alicia the talisman to protect her from the sun and allow her to garb herself in any style she wished. I suppose she just thought that this was normal for Alicia.

"They are Monifa's magical amulets and talismans," I explained. "She believes there is one in the collection that can help Gerda."

< Gerda vampire > signed Belali. She used her fingers to indicate letters in order to spell names, and her sign for a vampire was two fingers held pointing down at the sides of her mouth.

"Yes," I laughed, though most people wouldn't have had that reaction. "Gerda cannot go out in the sunlight or she will be destroyed, and she is restrained to dress as she was when she died. Our hope is that Monifa can use her powers, and a talisman, to give her the same freedom that Alicia has."

< Gerda love Karl > signed Belali. Then gave a flurry of gestures.

"Whoa," I said, touching her on the arm. "Too fast, young lady. I'm not as good as Helena at this."

She grinned and then signed, slowly...

< Karl see Gerda one night... Belali had to lie and say it was dream >

I laughed, and was very gratified to see her smile.

"Well done," I said. "Quick thinking. But I don't know what we are going to do in the future."

Belali looked puzzled.

"It was I who agreed to let Alicia make her undead," I admitted. "And now the world thinks she is dead. Including my brother. And I don't know what to do about it. I feel responsible for her. I want her to have freedom but fear she will use it to visit her husband in his study. And no amount of suggesting it was a dream will work if she does that."

This time it was Belali's turn to touch. She put her hand on mine. I looked deep into her eyes. They were full of concern, and so beautiful. How could anybody think she was a demon? I remembered then what Helena had said and, lifting my eyes from looking deep into hers, I glanced around at the square. A group of men were staring at us, me and Belali, touching each other. Their looks were full of disgust.

"I'm sorry," I said, angrily. "Is there some sort of problem here?"

Belali pulled her hand away.

< sorry sorry sorry > she signed.

She looked distressed but I had the impression she was more unhappy for me than herself. I took her hand and stood up. Then I put my arm around her shoulders and we walked towards the men. They looked very mean, and very strong.

"You sick bastard," said the first man. "Like 'em sub human do you?" He laughed and his friends joined in. Then their laughter turned to anger and he stepped forward and raised his fist.

"I'm gonna thrash you," he threatened. "Teach you a lesson... that it's not right for us to breed with 'em. Then I'm gonna make her a sideshow attraction, where freaks like her belong."

He went to swing at me and I heard Helena's gasp behind me. Una screamed. Belali cowered. And I put up my arm to defend myself. Then a gunshot rang out, snatching the man's hat from his head.

"Put your hand down," said the Chief of Police in a voice of thunder. "This is our honoured doctor and the girl is his assistant. You will not threaten them, or the next shot will go through your head instead of your hat!"

I glanced over. The Chief was standing with two of his soldiers, a smoking pistol in his hand. His soldiers had their muskets raised. Suddenly the men were all apologies They had misunderstood, they said. They had joked, they said. They meant no harm, they said. All these excuses were received with the contempt they deserved and they retreated into the darkness, the first man picking up his perforated hat as he left.

"Thank you sir," I said, grateful for the Chief's intervention. Belali signed her thanks.

"What did she say?" the Chief asked.

I spoke the words as she signed them again for him. He bowed and smiled.

"The people of the Dark Circus are not as... wholesome... as those of the Summer Fair," he said. "I suggest you are careful. In the meantime I will instruct my men to ensure you are not bullied, young lady. But they cannot be everywhere."

He nodded to me. "I hope to consult with you tomorrow, if I may," he looked pained. "My stump is giving me a little trouble."

"I am at your service, sir," I replied.

We headed straight to the Kaffeehaus but, as we drew close, Belali began to drag on my hand. I looked down at her, she looked frightened.

< they refuse me > she signed.

"No they won't," I replied. "Elodie's partner, Erik, is a good man. He will not refuse you entry and a cup of coffee."

A flurry of emotions ran over her face and then she squared her shoulders. The strength that she must have had to survive slavery and the removal of her tongue emerged. She grasped my hand and we set off again.

Cloaks deposited at the entrance we moved into the Kaffeehaus, guided to a booth by one of the servers. To my delight the patrons that I noticed gave Belali no more than pleasant glances, the same they were giving to Helena and Una. They did not stare, they did not turn away in disgust, and the rest of the occupants were forgotten by our party as Elodie ran across the room to greet us.

"Welcome friends, welcome Damion my wonderful brother," she was breathless with excitement. "How wonderful to see you."

Kisses were planted, in the Parisian style, on everyone except Belali, and I could feel the lass shrinking away, preparing to be ignored, or worse. Then Elodie looked me in the eye.

"Are you not going to introduce me?" she grinned, nodding at Belali.

"Elodie," I said, in a formal tone. "Please meet my new assistant, Belali."

"Wonderful to meet you... mwah mwah!" said Elodie, hugging Belali close and giving the surprised girl two big kisses. "Let me find you a table and you can tell me all your news."

We were found a table in double-quick time and soon cups of steaming coffee and glasses of wine were in front of us. I sat with Elodie to my right and Belali to my left, and Helena and Una opposite. The conversation rolled around me and I settled back to listen. Elodie wanted to know about our friends who had travelled to Vienna, and we gave her the gist of the letter, trying to avoid describing, in public, Poppy's encounter with The Nubian.

Typically it was that part of the letter that Elodie wanted to know more about. Luckily Helena had had the foresight to bring the letter with her and Elodie avidly read the appropriate section.

"Ooooh," she grinned. "I must talk to Poppy when she returns. That would make a wonderful poem. Unless, of course, she wants to make it into a play."

She then told us a little about her life with Erik and her plans for the Kaffeehaus. Their resident artist was holding art classes in an upstairs room and Elodie invited me to attend. I got the impression she wanted me to pose so the students could draw my portrait, though I might have got the details wrong because the chatter around me was very loud at that point.

The literary soirees were continuing on a monthly basis and they had added a new attraction, a woman called Isadora who performed interpretive dance while the poets read their work. I thought it would be interesting to watch the woman try to interpret some of Elodie's more raunchy works. Definitely challenging.

Elodie's life at the Kaffeehaus with Erik seemed perfect for her. Their relationship was strong, from what I could gather, but also very free and it was clear that she was bedding several of the poets and authors. She started to tell me about a Bohemian poet who looked a very ordinary gentleman but who, apparently, had phenomenal stamina in pleasuring. I was delighted that she still regarded me warmly after all the events earlier this year. I had fled Durishaus, running away from a forced marriage to Katy, and left her naked in the stocks in the ballroom. I had abandoned her, and she had only escaped being killed by my father by a quirk of fate. Then, afterwards, she had narrowly avoided being declared insane to become the pleasure toy of the Abbot of Gelenberg. Anyone else would have harboured resentment, but Elodie seemed to have entirely forgiven me.

I had just agreed to visit the art class one evening when we were disturbed by the arrival of Ursula, the tobacco girl. I had always been an admirer of the female form and there was much to admire here. She was only eighteen but carried herself with great poise, like a more mature woman. Tall, slender and with magnificent bosoms, her hair was very blonde, almost silvery in colour. She carried a tray of tobacco products and I stood up to examine her wares. This also permitted me to gaze into her impressive cleavage and admire her breasts.

Ursula wore a lacy top with a very very low cut front which meant that when you looked down you could see her rosy pink nipples. The eye was also drawn in that direction by a prominent beauty spot, a natural mole, on her right breast. This was not one of the artificial ones applied with spirit gum by members of the aristocracy, but the real thing. As I stared at her bosom I noticed that Helena was watching me. I quickly purchased two cigars for Lord Philip and sat down. Ursula moved on.

"She wears it low," said Helena. "To get more custom. You do understand that, Damion?"

"Oh I hadn't noticed," I replied. "I was just buying some cigars for Lord Philip. He does appreciate the type she sells."

"Well remember," said Helena, with a grin. "That's all she's selling, despite the way she displays her... wares."

I must admit that Helena confuses me sometimes. She has said that she loves me now several times and, from her behaviour in bed, and her loyalty, I have no reason to doubt her. Despite it being inappropriate for a noble and a peasant to have a relationship of equals I have indulged her by letting her share my bed and, I must say, I have very warm feelings for her.

She has been with me for many a sexual escapade and, if she does love me, then it does not show in jealousy. Perhaps she would be different if we were husband and wife, but as we are she is quite happy to share me with a wide range of other women. She was happy for me to pleasure my sister-in-law Gerda, a tavern keeper's wife at Gelenberg, my cousin's intended Elizabeth, Una, and even Euryale - a Medusa. And today she very positively told me I must pleasure Belali. I can only assume she is generous of heart. She looks to satisfy needs and, as long as her own status is secure, is happy with a world of erotic pleasure. I have to admit when I think of her my heart soars, but is it love?

Her comment on Ursula must be because the girl, in her efforts to sell tobacco, had given herself whore-like attributes. But Helena had seen through this and knew the girl did not also want to sell her body. Helena, in her poverty before I met her, had been a whore - for a time. She knew well the difference between sharing her body when she desired to do so, and being forced by circumstances, or violence, to sell both her body and her soul.

I was pulled back from these thoughts by Una.

"How is your cousin, Damion?"

"Victor is now married," I replied. "A simple service at Schloss Frankenstein. I attended and, apart from an event when the couple retired to a room to consummate the marriage, that I cannot repeat here, all went in most Christian fashion." That got me some quizzical looks but I refused to elaborate, at least not in public. He is my cousin, twice removed, after all.

"And do you think he has learned his lesson?" continued Una. "There will be no more making of monsters."

Belali looked shocked.

< monster making... when?... how? > she signed.

I could have told her it was family business, or Mystery Club business, but if the girl is to trust us and see us as her allies and friends then I needed to give an honest answer. Lowering my voice I started, knowing that others would quickly add their own comments.

"Victor is a scientist and wished to create a New Man," I said, emphasising the grand title for his creation. "He built a man from body parts and animated it with electricity from a storm. Electricity that he had somehow infused with life giving properties. But his creation was not what he had hoped for and he rejected it. It was tortured by his assistant, Fritz, and became murderous."

That was as far as I got before everyone else started to tell the tale. In no particular order, I might add. I was a little gratified to hear of my own exploits but, of our friends, it was Paul, the Chief of Police and Alicia who seemed to have the strongest roles. If ever the story is written, or made into a play, I fear that the Doctor will have only brief lines, spoken by a minor player. Something like "Victor lives! We must take him home to be healed."

I might not even be in the story at all.

At the end Belali looked a little confused, as I might if the story had been told to me in such a chaotic manner. I think she will have many questions for me tomorrow.

Our thoughts of death, and monsters, was interrupted by a poet, Johann Blaumuer telling the entire room that he was about to declaim. We left our seats and clustered on the edge of the performance area to listen. Then a most striking woman moved to stand by the poet.

"That's Isadora," whispered Elodie. "Isadora Van Stacia from the Low Countries. You'll love her, my friends."

The woman was tall, possibly the tallest woman I had ever seen. She had a strong figure with powerful thighs, and breasts as big as Gerda's, though they were not as rounded, slightly sagging on her chest. In some ways that made them look bigger. Her hair was brown and reached halfway down her back. Her pubic hair was thick and bushy. How did I know these intimate details? Well the woman was only wearing a scarf and a thin belt. The scarf was very long and appeared to be made of silk from the way it draped. She had looped it around the back of her neck and trailed the ends over her shoulders to fall down her front. It barely covered her aureolas and the shape of her large nipples was obvious through the thin cloth.

To be continued...