22 September 2009
Wherein A Steak Strikes Strix
~ Lord Likely and the Bloody Nuisances, Part Four ~
For the previous chapter, please click here.
From the Journals of Lord Likely, Aristocratic Adventurer and Gentle-Man of Action.
MR. STRIX hissed at me, and opened his mouth to reveal his fearsome fanged teeth. Any doubts I may have had pertaining to the existence of vampires were quickly vanishing in the face of cold, hard, pointy facts.
With another loud hiss, Mr. Strix lunged at me, but I proved much too quick for the blood-sucking bounder, and deftly leapt out of the way. Strix proceeded to fall over a table behind where I’d stood, and then he landed in a rather undignified and un-terrifying heap.
“By Beelzebub’s Acrid Arse-Gas!” I exclaimed as I gathered myself up. “What a turn-up for the books, eh?” I turned to my companions, Inspector Spunkleford and my man-servant, Botter (still clutching his erroneous steak), who were both trembling and white with fear. I believe Botter may have even soiled himself slightly, but I was not prepared to investigate further.
“H-he’s an actual vampire!” Spunkleford stammered, pointing a shaky finger in Strix’s direction.
“Very good, inspector,” I remarked. “I dare say you shall quickly work your way up to commissioner with such remarkable deductive skills.”
“B-but he’s a vampire!” Spunkleford repeated.
“Yes, so we have established. Now, what say we get out of this forsaken hell-hole before that very same vampire recovers himself, hmmm?”
But, even as I spoke it was much too late, and Strix was scrabbling to his feet, his eyes glowing with rage.
“I…musssst…FEEEEEED!” he snarled.
“Quick, Spunkleford! Show him your cross!” I bellowed.
“Erm…all-all right, Likely,” Spunkleford replied nervously, before stepping up in front of Mr. Strix, puffing his chest out in a feeble attempt to look braver than he actually was. “Now…now listen here, my man…I really am rather annoyed, you know…and…and I have found your behaviour quite unacceptable. Furthermore, I – ”
“No, Spunkleford!” I cried out, exasperated. “Don’t show him YOU ARE cross, show him YOUR cross – your damned crucifix!”
Spunkleford nodded his comprehension, but as he went to reach into his pocket to retrieve the cross, Strix was upon him, bashing him out of the way like he was nothing more than a portly, middle-aged rag-doll, and sending him flying into a beam on the other side of the room. That would most assuredly leave a mark, I mused, before refocusing my attention on Strix, who was gliding toward me, his arms outstretched in my direction.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” I said. “What is your obsession with me? I dare say Spunkleford had more blood in him than I! I mean you only have to look at him to realise he is positively brimming with the stuff…surely he would make for a fine feast indeed? No?…oh, to hell with it all!” I cried, as I grabbed the raw steak from Botter’s limp grasp, and then brought it sharply across Strix’s face as he leapt at me once more. The full-force of the lump of cow-meat forced Strix to spin round two hundred and forty degrees, at which point he lost his footing and collapsed back onto the table, inadvertently skewering himself on a solid-gold fountain pen which had been resting in an ink-well.
From the diary of Mr. Strix, Vampire.
Owch.
From the Journals of Lord Likely, Aristocratic Adventurer and Gentle-Man of Action.
Strix let out a piercing shriek, writhed about for a bit, before falling silent and limp on the table.
“Well,” I smiled, hurling the steak back to Botter. “It seems he certainly got the POINT, eh Botter?”
“Very good, milord,” Botter drawled.
“The point…of the pen,” I added.
“Yes, milord.”
“In his chest.”
“Um…yes.”
“And then he died.”
“Erm…”
“Right! Enough quick-fire witticisms! Let us get out of here and – oh-ho? What now?” I exclaimed, as Strix’s body started to steam and crackle noisily, like bacon on a stove, and then – before our very eyes – the corpse began to melt, the skin slipping off the bones and dissolving into smoke.
“Bloody hell!” I remarked.
“I…I think I’m going to be sick…” Botter whined.
At that point, Strix’s maid entered the room, eager to see what all the commotion was about. “What’s all the commotion in here?” she said, confirming my previous sentence. “What’s been happening? Where’s the mast – oh!” Her eyes fell upon the smouldering remains of her former employer, moving her to emit a loud, piercing scream. Thus sated, she swiftly passed out in a dead faint into my manly arms.
“She must have been rather perturbed by the terrible mess,” I hypothesised. “I dare say there’s a good hour or two’s worth of cleaning to be done in here. Poor thing,” I said, stroking strands of the girl’s red hair from her eyes. “Listen, Botter…I shall go and make sure this poor darling is comfortable…you go and check on the inspector. I fear his pride may be slightly bruised, at least if the angle at which he hit that beam is anything to go by.”
“Very good, milord,” Botter nodded, scuttling off to perform my wishes.
“Wha…what happened?” murmured the maid, as she slowly returned to a state of consciousness.
“Do not worry yourself dear,” I cooed sympathetically. “The nightmare is over now – and forever more!”
- Lord Likely.
Next Week in “Lord Likely and the Bloody Nuisances”: The Nightmare is Far From Over!
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