Immortal Earth (Vampires For Earth Book 1) by Sarah Warden Read Free Book Online

suffice.

 
     
    SEVEN
     
     
    A few hours later …
     
     
    Harland Fergusson was lying on the sidewalk, propped up against the outer wall of the Rose Tavern. His eyes struggled to focus, as he slowly came back to consciousness. Reaching into his vest pocket for his watch, Harland’s fingers slid through a puddle of some liquid the texture of warm, wet, sticky paint. He held his hand up to his face and gasped. Blood. Searching himself quickly, he could not find any injury to explain the viscous liquid that covered his whole front, and dripped all the way down to the puddles that he could hear squishing in the bottom of his boots.
    Harland rolled onto his knees, steadied himself with his hands, and slowly rose to his feet. Other than a slight dizziness, and a throbbing in his teeth, he felt fine. What in the bloody hell happened to me , he thought, as he looked around him. Night had fallen recently. The streetlamps were on, and the Rose Tavern was glowing warmly, but the sky was still the dark blue, touched with light, which immediately followed the sunset. It must be about six pm … but the last thing that I remember; I was at the tailors with the Count and Countess, just after lunch. I didn’t drink an awful lot of scotch, so how could I have blacked out? Perhaps I was knocked unconscious? Harland ran his fingers through his hair, and down over the natural protrusion at the back of his skull, but he found no bump or sore spot that could provide an explanation for his loss of consciousness, and his blood covered state.
    He braced himself against the wall and pulled the door to the Rose Tavern open, hoping that the barkeep might have seen whatever it was that had happened to him outside. He weaved his way up to the bar, and managed to ignore the shocked looks on the faces of the patrons he passed, but he couldn’t ignore the mirror behind the bar that reflected his horribly bloody appearance back to him.
    The bartender rushed over from his perch in the corner and exclaimed, “My God, and what happened to you then? Kicked by a damn horse, were you?”
    Harland thought that this was the most believable, and likely, explanation for his appearance, though he knew that it couldn’t be true, since he couldn’t find an injury anywhere on himself.
    “Aye, I think you are most probably right, lad,” Harland said. “Do you have any idea when the next tram heading out to Whitechapel is coming along? I need to get home to the East End and clean myself up, but I’d rather not seek out a horse car … I’m sure you understand.”
    A tall man with a full head of well-kept red hair, and a closely trimmed beard of the same vibrant color, walked up behind Harland, put a hand on his back, and said, “My dear man, what kind of calamity has met up with you now?”
    Harland turned around to face the man, and recognized his friend, Bram Stoker. Bram’s face went pale when he saw the amount of blood on Harland.
    “Dear God, are you okay?” Bram said. “Shall we take you to see the doctor?”
    “No, it’s nothing to worry about, I’m not hurt, I just …”, Harland’s voice trailed off, and he looked searchingly at Bram. “I just don’t know what happened,” Harland said, and looked down at his bloody vest and trousers.
    Bram was on his feet instantly, and yelled across the room, “Barkeep! We’ll be needing our tab over here, quick as you can chap.”
    The bartender waved him off, “That’s all right, we can settle up next time, Mr. Stoker.”
    Bram smiled at the bartender, turned to Harland, and motioned for him to follow him out the door.
    “Come on Harland, make your steps quick son,” Bram said. “My driver is waiting just at the end of the row. We’ll get you back to my flat and send for the doctor from the Lyceum Theatre; he’ll give you a good once over. You need not worry, he is the very soul of discretion.”
    Bram and Harland exited the Rose Tavern onto King’s Road, and climbed into the back of a