CHAPTER 7
Obsession Takes Hold
In the aftermath of revelations that shattered her once-placid world, Frances trudged back into a life that felt as though it belonged to another. A life now marred by the thoughts of shadows and hidden terrors. Each familiar moment was steeped in a grim portent, as if the very clockwork of routine mocked her with a cruel farce, masking a nightmare that had insidiously crept into every recess of her mind. Though she dared to move through her days with an outward semblance of normalcy, inside she was a wraith adrift in a storm of visions, that of blood shed and members of The Fraternity stalking every dark corner. Drying up the longing she felt and in its stead, there was only obsession.
The all-consuming disquiet that has replaced her once-stable world, gnawed at her sanity. Frances found herself staring off in thought. She could feel herself, heavy with the burden of knowledge, wading against the current of routine. What had once been a mere infatuation spurred by her beloved gothic novels had burned into a compulsive need to unearth the truth. That of a hidden vampiric fraternity, that cabal of deadly power. The mysterious dark figure she calls the real vampire, and his brass ring with the engraved name "Victoria".
The Ring has become a beacon guiding her deeper into a realm where her fascinations, fears, and obsessions blurred into one. The whole of it was casting a dangerous, magnetic allure over her.
Impulse takes hold at a moments notice and Frances utilizes her paralegal resources to embark on an investigation. With meticulous determination she begins to search through archives on her computer within the cubicle of her law firm. The keys of the keyboard are clacking as her fingers type keyword search after keyword search and question after question. Her first clue lay within the name on the brass ring. In what she can sum up about the symbolism of brass rings she found that they often were given as a token of affection in the romantic era. This led to a thought, "Could there be some record of a blue blood woman from the 1800's out there?" She hopes there is a portrait or some depiction in writing that is possibly close to what she knows of the real vampire.
As she pours over documents and obscure texts, the name Victoria recurred with alarming frequency. Was it a misleading piece of evidence, possibly meant to obscure the truth? But then Frances thinks to herself, "Could this be the key to unlocking a series of clues?" and with every lead turning into a futile dead end, she understood that her quest requires a more daring approach. Giving up on delving into this "Victoria", she decides to take a new direction and plunges into places where The Fraternity and their victims converged.
Frances returned to the parking garage, the site where she witnessed an unspeakable massacre that haunted her dreams. She walked the aisles, each step on the cracked concrete was a memento of when she was fighting for her life. The air was thick with odor, a blend of stale grease, rust, and the lingering, bitter pungent copper tang of blood. Recollecting the breaths that burned beneath her chest that night. The vile fingers that grabbed at her, pulled at her, and bruised her body. The dizzying panic that ran through her brain leaving only flashes of what she can recall. "To think I almost died that night! Those would have been my last moments, my last thoughts, the last thing I felt. It's all, almost a blur. It all happened so fast." Frances remarks to herself. Her eyes begin to prickle as she let out a shaky breath.
She closes her eyes in an attempt to calm her mind and let the harsh smells transport her back, trying to catch even the faintest fragment of clarity amid the chaos. Maybe there was something she missed. Maybe there was something she could remember from that night, something small she may have overlooked that could lead her to the next clue. But all she has as a take-away was that, this is what the aftermath looks like. What is left behind after The Fraternity collides with the real vampire.
Empty handed, She returns home to continue researching. It is a slow and time consuming process, like a leisure stroll up a stair well except the flights feel endless and she doesn't know when she'll reach the top. The research only leads her further into the dark corridors of bureaucratic reports detailing millionaire's and their missing children. Chilling case files, some that go back nearly a century, chronicling disappearing persons, fragmented lives lost to inexplicable circumstances. Reports that were familiar to her as they painted a grim tableau:
Victims discovered in grotesque poses, unrecognizable as they were shred to pieces.
Their black clothing in tatters.
Frances couldn't help but feel that some things were missing, a trove of reports and they all felt hallowed with hardly any follow up. It began to infuriate her as she hit a wall with every report and coinciding piece of evidence. The cases ended with no leads, no mention of similar events in other cities, no justice for any of the victims; as if the intention was to keep the incidents isolated for the sake of covering something up. Red flags triggered for this is familiar territory to her. There were cases she would work at her law firm and there would be a point in which they began to scream of corrupt melding. Some one paid off to make evidence disappear or judges unreasonably shutting down cases, leaving them dead in the water. A chill filled Frances in knowing what laid behind the dark veil of secrets.
She keeps digging, and the cases are becoming repetitive. Groups of men mutilated. No cameras, no eye witnesses. A massacre discovered in an urban ruin in a major city. It appeared again and again as if "He", the real vampire, was marking The Fraternity. A branding of punishment to send a message to the rest of them "This is the fate, inevitable to all The Fraternity".
It was that exact thought that makes Frances recognize the unmistakable pattern, like a tattoo in the fabric of every documented crime scene hinting at his undeniable presence. She can see "Him". His toiling. The invisible hand of the unwritten vampire. It wasn't a clue. But it was the epiphany she needed to progress her investigation.
She memorized The Fraternity's motifs. The more reports she found and consumed the more she put together her own red string theory. Putting it together, she started to think, that in the early years, The Fraternity, could make women go missing with their wealth paying for an easy clean up. But as the real vampire interrupted their rituals they began to leave bodies in the streets. The real vampire has put them on the run making, for them, the continuation of their murderous rituals, difficult. They have become sloppier and now perform their murders onsite and in locations that are too archaic to house today's technology.
Finally, a breakthrough arrived when she stumbled across a new lead. Online she found a recent new report from New York, a city where the sleek modern skyline clashed with decadence and death. Here, in the midst of towering glass edifices and neon-lit alleys, a ruined warehouse emerged where unexplainable carnage transpired. She saw pictures of the warehouse where the incident took place, much like the parking garage, it was a testament to a systemic horror that aligned with The Fraternity's recognizable elements.
She can't escape now for nothing has ever been this intense of a pull. She must leave immediately in order to investigate that crime scene. The possibility of finding the next clue that will lead to him excites her. Frances makes a life-altering decision and quits her job, tosses her belongings, only keeping enough to travel with and rents out her apartment. It only takes her a few days and she closes the door of her once comfortable apartment. She takes one last look at its bare floor and walls. One last moment to say good-bye to her comfort as she holds the book "Annakaranina" in her calm hands. She is abandoning the security of her life. Surrendering everything in pursuit of the truth. With a fierce determination that bordered on madness, she boards a plane and ventures to New York.
The evening after arriving, in the witching hours of the city, when its secrets are laid bare, she crossed the yellow crime-scene tape to scrutinize the freshly cleaned concrete of the warehouse. There, she examined the crime scene in the darkness, letting her imagination reconstruct the carnage that she knows took place. This warehouse, an eerie rust bucket with peeling walls and cavernous silence was stained with chaotic moments. The pervasive, mysterious green fog that swirled around bodies dressed in their dark fraternal uniforms, like liquid malice. The aftermath that had been scrubbed and washed, was tinged with the lingering musk of dried blood covered by the scent of cleaning chemicals. In France's mind the whole place screamed of meticulously orchestrated chaos in a sinister ballet where death danced to a brutal harmony. There were no clues for her to find, only the affirming sense that she was one step behind both The Fraternity and... him. Yet, mere observation was insufficient as she stands on the scarred grounds. Later, when she is back in her hotel room she sits on the bed with her laptop, notes sprawling. Frances looks into the reports, examining the victim that was uncovered in the warehouse. A woman found dead, the only person who could be identified still only on record as a Jane Doe. Her neck devastated by unmistakable bite wounds.
A woman he couldn't save. She begins to wonder, how many of The Fraternity's victims weigh on "Him"? He, this vampire that is beyond limitations who remains untouchable by the wealthy 1%. He is without fear of their retaliation, therefore no law binds him. He is the single entity that is making an effort to save the people who The Fraternity prey upon.
Determined to cast a wider net, Frances expands her investigation beyond national borders. Years of being a paralegal has trained her to be resourceful, knowing how find otherwise hidden information. Where to dig. What the right questions to ask, are. Late into the morning she is on a restless scroll through endless digital archives and the gathering of puzzle pieces from far-flung regions.
The internet trail, led her first to the frostbitten streets of Norway, from there, her pursuit took her to London. A city where new age met old world charm, and it's dark corridors also concealed the reports of misfortune and urban legends. But it was a vault of cases that keep coming up cold, classified and covered up in Edinburgh. It is with its mist-shrouded, cobblestone lanes and haunted history, that the path finally appeared to her into something undeniable. The Scottish capital, a city steeped in ancient lore and innovation, offered up a recent treasure trove of chilling missing persons and Jane Doe's that reeked of The Fraternity's involvement. If the clues are correct, the real vampire will follow this trail as well, if he is hunting The Fraternity. He will look for their victims, and use their trail of death to find them. If she is to find him, she must track The Fraternity the way he does. Still there is a part of her that recognizes that all of this, is still just a theory. There is not enough information for her to go on. All of it could reach an impasse in the end. Just like the name on the brass ring. But she felt it, the invisible tether that calls to her heart. Jolean, her co-worker from the law firm, she reminisces about her, "She was a kindness to this world. She was too good for this world. This world didn't deserve her. Jolean didn't deserve to die with such cruelty."
Looking for "him" is an inspiring determination. A force that finally felt like she was doing something right. Realization springs on her that she truly wants to find "Him" to help put an end to The
Fraternity. For once… she felt like she was living.
No time is wasted. No sleep was allowed to squander a moment. With her heart pounding like a war drum in her chest, Frances hastily booked a flight. She gathered her few remaining possessions and secured passage to Scotland. A leap, not of faith, but of recklessness. On this, her free fall, her ascent into the night sky only felt more symbolic to Frances. The plane carrying her seemed to be more as an unfamiliar vessel. Everything felt unfamiliar to her, even the air she could breathe was a stranger for she was the only one aboard that knew her journey was a path into the dark unknown. Every mile brought her closer to a convergence of horror. And still, she leaped.
As the plane soared over a quilt of lands stitched by gleaming lights and spreading darkness, Frances clutches her ticket. And so, on that fateful flight to Scotland, Frances embraced the thrill. The chase was on. A relentless, intoxicating pursuit of a real vampire.
***
Thank You For Reading!
Come follow us on Instagram!
@the_dread_legacies
On our Instagram we will be posting updates about when the physical copies of "Victoria Frankenstein" will be available, What we the authors are doing in our lives, as well as art, and quotes from the series. Ask us any and all questions and see all the other things we are doing.
Next week! We are revealing the title for book 3. See it on Instagram! Monday April, 28th!