Victorian Days & Nights by: Elsbeth Magic & Mayhem in Victorian England

Chapter 1

The smell of the tide mixed with garbage, seaweed and decaying flesh permeated the tight quarters near Bermondsey on the south bank of the river Thames in an area called "Jacob's Island". Dark coated Constables moved in and about the small streets, a strange sight for the inhabitants of one of the poorest sections of Victorian London. Most of its citizens had faded into the shadows as soon as the first officer arrived, thinking it was some great raid. However, the Constables were not traveling down the debris-filled streets in search of any common thief or prostitute.

Out of place amongst the officers of the law were two men dressed in heavy grey coats. One man, a bear of a man, was much larger than the other, sported a spectacular red mustache but it wasn’t his facial hair that made him stand out. In his hands was a ‘Purdey’ shotgun. The second man clothes were a cut better than his companion and underneath the coat one could see the hint of a red uniform. The man had the air of command about him. Blonde hair and darkened skin showing that he was no stranger to the sun but it was his green eyes that seemed to see everything at once that stood in the darkness. Those who were masters of the night quickly faded away from the pair just from those piercing eyes along. What might have made him a obvious target was in his right hand, he held a cane made out of the finest mahogany. Atop the cane, a red jewel flickered, picking up the light from the full moon above. However if one were paying attention they would notice the jewel would keep the light for a time after the two men passed though the shadows.

“Lord Kinsley.” A voice called out in the darkness. The two men changed directions and headed towards the voice.

“Sergeant Owen, my favorite Constable.” Colonel Kinsley smiled at the Welsh police officer who stood in front of slime-coated stairs. The stairs went down under a huge leather and hide warehouse, which sat directly on the River Thames.

Sergeant Owen doffed his hat and smiled. “I’m sure sir.” His smile faded when he pointed down the stairs. “My superiors would hate to admit you were right.” The Sergeant knew that the discovery below had brought the Colonel out of an important meeting with the same superiors at Scotland Yard.

The young man removed his coat and handed it to his companion revealing a red jacket adored with a number of campaign medals. “Don’t worry about it Owen, Major Guiles is quite adept at catching your typical ruffian, but I assume that this is what I had expected.”

“Yes sir, if you will follow me, sir.”

The three men took the stairs down being careful with their footing and entered a large landing. Stacks of hides and leather sat at the back of the dock ready to be shipped downstream. Away from the river, two Constables stood in front of a solid looking wooden door, which was the entrance into the lower floors of the Warehouse. Passing through the doorway into another room, the three men came across the remains of a half a dozen workers in various stages of decomposing. All of the workers appeared to have died rather violently from some sort of animal attack.

“You don’t see too many deaths from tiger attacks in London.” The gentleman with the shotgun commented.

Sergeant Owen covered his face with a handkerchief. “Tiger attacks, yes, we thought that as well.”

“It does appear that way but even as strange as that might be, Major Guiles wouldn’t have had me come all the way out to Jacobs Island.” Kneeling down by one of the corpses the young Colonel inspected the wounds but made sure not to touch the corpse.

“Yes sir, as you say, sir.” The Sergeant led the two men into another room. “We did not touch the men in the other room as you asked. “

“Excellent, I will have Murray bring in his team in the morning.” The Colonel looked to his companion who nodded.

“Yes Sir, I will inform her Ladyship.”

The Constable looked shocked. “You’re not thinking of bringing Lady Kinsley down here?”

The Colonel laughed. “Trust me, Sergeant; my sister is made of sterner stuff. However, you are correct; she has other responsibilities but she still needs to coordinate with the others on my team. Sargent Osgar you will see to it.”

“Yes Sir.” The red haired man smiled.

“So Owen, why are we down here?” The Colonel looked up the hallway. Two more dead men lay crumpled on their sides obviously mauled by some great cat.

“Oh sorry sir, if you follow me it’s in the next room. We were under the impression that these men were smugglers.”

“Would make sense considering where we are.” Sargent Osgar said kneeling down to look at another ravaged body. “So someone wanted to own a Tiger from India and paid these men to ship it.”

“That was our first guess but then we found this room.” Sergeant Owen turned a corner and stepped over a shattered wooden door. Passed the door was a small room, its walls covered in blood. In the center of the room drawn on the floor was a golden circle.

“Jesus wept.” Sargent Osgar growled pointing his gun at the room.

“I hope that you made sure that no one entered this particular room.”

Sergeant Owen nodded. “Yes sir, as soon as this room was discovered the Sergeant in charge pulled everyone out of the warehouse. “

“Thank the goddess for that.” The red haired man said. “My Lord...a summoning circle?”

“Perhaps, it’s not something I can tell from here.” Frowning he looked back at the Constable.

“All of your men are somewhere else, correct.”

“Yes sir, they have the warehouse surrounded but stand a block away. Only the two men at the side door at the entrance to the lower level are actually near the warehouse.”

Colonel Kinsley pointed to Sargent Owen’s throat. “You still have that amulet your grandmother gave you?”

“Why of course, sir.”

“Take it out then, leave it around your neck.”

The Sargent did as he was commanded. Taking the small amulet in his hands the young Colonel held it for a moment. “That should do it Owen, you may remain with us.” Looking at the small silver amulet the Constable slipped it back underneath his uniform. Moments later, a tingling sensation coming from the amulet spread out through his entire body. This was the third time the Colonel had touched his grandmother’s amulet. How the young Lord knew he wore it the first time they met, Owen never understood.

“Both of you remain here for a moment please.” Colonel Kinsley stepped into the room, one hand placed forward outstretch, the other hand held the cane with the jewel pointed towards the center of the room. Sargent Owen could hear the Colonel whisper but he couldn’t make out the language. When the amulet around his neck began to tingle, the Welsh Constable began to whisper a short prayer.

“My Lord?”

“Stay out there, Osgar, nasty piece of work here.” Kneeling in front of the circle, the Colonel asked. “So how much salt do we have?”

“Bugger...not again sir.” The Scottish Sargent rolled his eyes.

“Salt, why salt?” Owen was confused. Why was salt needed in this room?

“Just a pinch in each of their mouths if you please Osgar, we need them to remain put whilst I destroy this circle. “ Reaching for his watch the young Lord checked the time. “Please be quick about it.”

“Aye sir, come on Owen, we have work to do.” The tall Scotsman pulled the Constable into the hallway and towards the first corpse. “It’s simple you see, we just put a pinch of salt on their tongue.” From inside his jacket Osgar pulled out a small bottle of salt.

“Table salt?”

“Don’t be daft.” The Scottish Sargent took a small pinch of salt and placed it on the tongue of the first dead man they ran across. “If that were the case I’d have a lot more than this on me.” He shook the bottle. Owen eyed the corpse, was it his imagination or did the dead man’s eyes flutter.

“You’re next?”

“What...why do you need me to do it.”

“Why not.” Approaching the second man Owen was shown what to do. Sure enough, the eyes of this one fluttered as well.

The next room contained two more men. “So if we didn’t do this what would happen?”

The Scotsman shrugged. “Worst case, they would try and eat us.”

“You have the oddest sense of humor, Osgar.” Own chuckled but something told him that the Sargent was serious. The two men spoke very little after that, working quickly placing a small pinch of salt in the mouths of each of the dead men.

Returning, they found the Colonel writing down the symbols written on the ground into a small notebook. “Thank you.” Looking up he smiled. “So how did Owen do?”

“Good man, just as you thought my Lord.”

“You might have to make a decision Owen, after this night.” The Colonel placed his notebook back inside his red jacket. “Osgar, if you two can stand back. Perhaps point that gun of yours down the hallway just in case you missed someone.”

“What should I do my Lord?” The nervous Constable stared down the hallway.

“Stay out of the room but watch what I am doing. Afterwards tell me what you see.”

“Yes sir?” Owen had no clue what he was going to see when the Colonel completed his task. All he knew was whenever there was something out of the ordinary appeared it was the Colonel and his companions that were called. In the last couple of years, Owen had been involved in their exploits more and more. Some part of him knew what they were doing; his grandmother was well versed in the ancient stories. However it was one thing to listen to her tales before bedtime; it was quite another to actually be living them out.

“You ready, Osgar?”

“Aye.” Osgar reached into his coat and passed Owen a "British Bulldog" revolver.

“What is this for?”

“Just in case, be sure to hit them in the head. Nothing else will stop them. I would also recommend that you leave one round in the chamber for yourself.”

The Constable felt a chill run down his spine. “Why?”

The Scottish Sargent shrugged. “If we get overrun…”

Owen took a deep breath and nodded. Did the two of them get to all of the bodies? In a few minutes, they would find out. The Constable turned back to the room when he began to hear soft chanting. Lord Kinsley’s voice echoed through the small room and into the hallway beyond. With each word, Owen could feel a tightening in his chest. The floor of the room began to glow, giving off most of the colors of the rainbow. It could have been five minutes, twenty minutes or an hour; Owen didn’t know how long the Colonel chanted, when suddenly it was over.

Rubbing his face, the young lord leaned against the wall. “Well that’s it.” Reaching for his watch, he looked at the time. “We are cutting this a little close, Osgar.”

“Yes sir.”

Owen didn’t know where the two men had to be but he knew it was almost sunrise. “Sir, what should we do with the bodies?”

“Burn them of course, actually this entire Warehouse needs to be burned. Make sure that nothing is removed.”

“Excuse me sir, we just can’t burn the building.”

The large Scotsman laughed. “Of course we can, we do it pretty often.”

“Osgar.” The Colonel chided the Scottish Sergeant. “Owen, the Warehouse needs to be burned. The flames will purify everything. Also we don’t start fires all the time.”

“If you say so, sir.” Osgar laughed while retrieving his pistol from the Constable.

Reaching for his watch again the young Lord frowned at the time. “Osgar, will you please remain and make sure the job is done properly. After you get some rest, report to my sister and please make sure that Mr. Wallace is aware that this place will need some extra care.” Turning to Owen, Colonel Kinsley smiled. “So Owen, what did you see?”

“Colors sir, lots of colors.”

“Good man.” Osgar patted him on the back. “Rachael will just love you.”

Owen looked up at the large Scotsman confused. “Who’s Rachael?”

“Don’t worry about it right now Sargent. I will be sure to inform your superiors of your excellent work and dedication. Unfortunately men like you are difficult to find.”

Owen came to attention. “Yes sir, thank you sir.”

“I’m going to be late; my sister isn’t going to be happy with me.” The Colonel sighed. “Osgar, you did tell Mr. Wallace where to meet me.”

“Yes sir, he should be at the bridge now.” Sargent Osgar reached into his own jacket and looked at his watch. He made a face. “Sir, you don’t have a lot of time.”

“I know...I know.” The young Colonel waved to the two men and began to move quickly through the warehouse.

Own looked at the retreating Lord with concern. “Won’t his Lordship need an escort? There are quite a number of troublemakers roaming the streets even this time of morning.”

Osgar laughed. “I would worry about them, no the Colonel can take care of himself. Trust me.” Reaching into his coat, the Scotsman pulled out four vials of black liquid. “Now, let’s go start a fire.”

Colonel Kinsley moved quickly through the streets, running would be a mistake. The predators of the area would be alerted. Now they just watched, recognizing him as someone that would cost too much to try to detain.

Looking at the sky the Colonel frowned. “By the goddess, she is going to be vexed with me.” Thankfully, he spied the carriage off in the distance. Now at a run the Colonel crossed the small stone bridge near London Street. A burly gentleman stood off to the side, holding the horses while a younger man sat atop the carriage.

“Good morning to you, sir.”

“Young Alex, glad to see you made it. No troubles I take it.” He called out to the coachman. The second man holding the horses gave the Colonel a stiff Prussian bow.

“No sir.”

“Good man.”

An elderly looking man, impeccably dressed, opened the door into the carriage.

“Mr. Wallace, I am glad to see that you are prompt as always.” The Colonel slipped into the carriage and pulled down the blinds.

“Yes sir, I’m afraid that we will not make it back to Bedford Park before the sunrise.”

“Couldn’t be helped.” Reaching around, the Colonel removed his coat and set it to the seat next to him. Suddenly the carriage began to move. “Please apologize to my...sister.”

“Yes sir, I’m sure she will understand.” Mr. Wallace said dryly.

Colonel Kinsley grinned, but it disappeared as soon as the sun broke the horizon. Almost coming off his seat the young Lord arched his back his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

No matter how many times Cedric Wallace watched his master Lord Michael Kinsley change it terrified a small part of his being. The change continued from the top of his hair down to his feet. First, the Colonels hair began to grow long, the blonde very short hair soon flowed down passed his shoulder. His face rippled, shortened becoming classically feminine. As expected, his ribcage contracted but very feminine breasts formed and the changes continued down to Lord Michael’s toes. The piercing green eyes of her male self didn't change, they too never missed anything. Sitting back down, Lady Erin Kinsley noticed that she was not in her bedroom at Bedford Park.

“Good morning, my Lady.”

“Cedric, why am I in a carriage and by the smell, I am guessing we are near the Thames.”

“Lord Kinsley apologizes, his evening outing took much longer than expected.” As usual, there was always some disorientation after the change. Mr. Wallace would wait until she had settled before continuing.

Reaching into her uniform pocket, Lady Erin pulled out a cigar and prepared to light it. However, as soon as it was in her hands Mr. Wallace reached over and took it away. “Cedric, at least you could let me smoke until we make it home.”

“I’m sorry ma’am; Mrs. Robertson would not forgive me if we came home with you smelling like cigars. Bad enough how you’re dressed.” Lady Erin’s Lady's-maid had a definite opinion on how her mistress should dress and act.

The young woman’s eyes opened wide for a moment then she frowned. Pulling down her sleeves, which were now way too long; she rubbed her eyes. “I see that I had...I mean my brother had a busy night.” Since that fateful midsummer, when the goddess Medb had cursed Lord Kinsley every sunrise and sunset he would change genders. During the day he would be Lady Erin and at night Lord Michael.

Cedric never understood why Lord Kinsley insisted that Michael and Erin were two different people. However, they made sure everyone understood that they wanted to be treated that way.

The young woman smiled. “Oh Cedric, if we are up and about let’s go by Oxford-street and get some bread.” By the time, the carriage drove by the stalls they would be set up and their wares ready to be sold.

“I don’t know, my Lady.”

“Oh please, fresh baked bread, clotted cream and some of Mrs. Sullivan’s fresh blueberry jam.” Lady Erin rubbed her hands together.

Sighing, there was no chance of changing his mistress’ thoughts when fresh bread was already on her mind. “Yes my Lady, as long as you remain in the carriage.”

“Of course.” She giggled. Leaning back, she closed her eyes. Since the curse, sleep was no longer required but it still had been a very long night.

Authors Notes: A special thanks to djkauf for a little elvish editing. If you like the story please leave a Kudos, if you have the time I would love to hear from you. Thanks to all for reading! - Elsbeth