Clarissa closed the door to the office and walked down the five steps to the street. The news had been as she'd expected, but nonetheless it was hard to take in. She'd been found to be in the early stages of tuberculosis. She coughed again, as she looked for a Hansom cab to take her back to her one room rooming house.
For a moment she thought of throwing herself in front of the milk cart that clattered by her, but she held back. She didn't want to die. She still had things to complete before she left this earth.
She'd just started her latest novel, a thriller in which a young woman meets with a vampire. The men of the night had been a rage ever since Bram Stoker had written about them some years ago. It was hard to write these novels fast enough, and she wasn't ready to give up the pleasure that she derived from making people wince in fright by only using her words.
She saw a dark wisp of something out of the corner of her eye, and she decided to follow it. Clarissa knew that etiquette demanded that she be accompanied by a man in this endeavor, but the moment would be lost far before she found an escort. Besides, who was she to care? It would only be a matter of months before she was gone anyway.
She shivered, remembering how horrid her sister had looked in those last weeks of her disease. She'd been weak with a bluish tint to her skin. Clarissa had no desire to go out that way. There were too many things had yet to try. She rued her own morality, thinking that no man would want her now, knowing that she was ill and could possibly infect him as well. She would soon be a pariah with little chance of knowing a man.
She quickened her step, rushing to go in the direction of the black shadow that seemed to be ethereal, a mere suggestion of a person. She turned the corner to go down a darkened alley, steeling herself. The worst that could happen would be death, and she'd already knew that the end was near.
She pulled up short as a man stepped from the shadows. He looked young, almost waif-like, but he sneered at her as he came closer. Clarissa thought that he would be perfect for Nigel in her current work-in-progress. He had a certain swagger to his hips as he moved closer to her. She supposed that this should be a threatening move, but instead the act held a certain allure to it.
"Odd time of evening to be out alone," the man said. "Where mightst you be going?"
"I thought I saw someone..." She let the words trail off. Her nerve-endings were tingling with the threat of something happening. For all the bravado that the man had, she felt no worries that he would kill her. If he did, she would just be spared the painful death from consumption.
"You did see someone, ducks. You saw me. Must be your lucky night." He laughed.
She thought back to the physician's words. It was indeed an unlucky night for her. She had months to live, a span that could be counted on her fingers.
"What's the matter?" the man asked, stepping closer. She could smell his odor, he was that near to her.
"I'm not well," Clarissa said, being honest with the man. She wasn't sure why it mattered, but she had lost all interest in the niceties of societal interactions. She wanted to tell things as they were and speak to the heart in all cases.
"Sorry to hear. You'll be better soon," he said, as if he needed to say that to Clarissa. She had no time for this.
She turned to leave before he spoke again. "What are you doing in this neighborhood? It's not where I'd like to see my woman."
Clarissa shrugged. He acted as if danger was something to keep her in line now. It would not hold her back. "Perhaps I was down here looking for something that would cure me. Something that would allow me to live and write."
He raised his eyebrows. "That's a tall order for anyone, miss."
She turned to walk away. "Thank you then and good night."
He ran so that he stood in front of her. "Not's to say that I couldn't get it. Just saying that it would take some doing to get it."
Clarissa nodded. "Perhaps then I could find someone else. Someone who could make this happen. What is the man's name which I seek?"
He took a deep breath. "That's worth a lot to a person, isn't it?"
She smiled at him. "And what do want in return?" She had an idea of his answer, and with little to lose and no hope of saving herself for marriage, Clarissa was inclined to say yes to any demands that he might make. In her remaining time, she would drink from life fully.
He leered at her.
She met his gaze and kept it. "For that, you'll need to tell me more."
The man looked around as if scanning for other people before he began. "He's foreign, you know. He's says that he's a vampire. Has a home not too far from here, and I've heard tell of the parties that he has, things what I couldn't tell a lady."
Clarissa raised her eyebrow. Could those rumors be true? If she'd read Stoker's book correctly, the vampire had eternal life. She's be able to write a million books in the millennia she would live. It seemed too good to be true.
"Is that worth it to you?" the man asked.
She nodded. She was slightly disappointed that her first time would be quick and public, but Clarissa planned for there to be many more in the weeks - and maybe years - to come.
She carefully lifted the front of her dress, and the man smiled broadly at her. "You certainly don't waste any time, do you?"
She lifted her dress higher and said, "There'll be more for you if you get me that name."
He nodded, looking like a hungry man at a feast. "And what would I get if I brought you to his house?" he asked, quietly.
