“Protocol, Miss Tarabotti,” he said. Then he said something in Latin.
The automaton hauled Alexia over to one of the other sets of platforms. One of the young scientists stopped what he was doing and came to strap her down while the creature held her immobile. Mr. Siemons helped to secure her ankles and wrists with rope tied so tight Miss Tarabotti was certain she would lose all circulation to her extremities. The platform was decked out with massive manacles made of solid metal that looked to be iron coated in silver, and there were more of those awful wooden stakes, but the scientists clearly did not think she needed such extreme measures.
“Bring in a new test recipient,” Mr. Siemons ordered once she was secure. The gray-coated young man nodded, put his leather notebook on a small shelf, took off the glassicals, and left the room.
The automaton took up residence in front of the closed door, a silent wax-faced sentry.
Alexia twisted her head to one side. She could see Lord Akeldama to her left, still lying silent and unmoving on his platform. The older scientist, Dr. Neebs, seemed to have completed his task. He was now hooking another machine into the one with all the tubes. This new apparatus was a small engine of some kind, all gears and cogs. At its heart was a glass jar with metal plates at each end.
The remaining gray-clad young scientist came around and began to rigorously turn a crank attached to this device.
Eventually there issued a sharp crackling sound, and a vibrating beam of extraordinarily white light ran up the tube attached to Lord Akeldama's arm and penetrated his body. The vampire jerked and writhed, pulling involuntarily on the wooden stakes impaling his hands and feet. His eyes shot open, and he let out a keening scream of pain.
The young scientist, still cranking with one hand, pulled a small lever down with his other, and the beam of light shifted through the exsanguination machine to run up the tube attached to the seemingly comatose human subject on the platform next to Lord Akeldama.
This man's eyes also opened. He, too, jerked and screamed. The scientist stopped cranking, and the electrical current, for Alexia surmised that must be what it was, dissipated. Ignoring Lord Akeldama, who slumped with eyes closed, looking small and sunken and very old, Mr. Siemons, Dr. Neebs, and the young scientist rushed over to the other man. Dr. Neebs checked his pulse and then lifted his now-closed eyelids to check his pupils, staring hard through the glassicals. The man lay perfectly still.
Then, suddenly, he began to whimper, like a child at the end of a tantrum—out of tears, with only small dry heaving sobs left. All the muscles in his body seemed to lock up, his bones stiffened, and his eyes practically bulged right out of his head. The three scientists backed away but continued to watch him intently.
“Ah, there he goes,” said Mr. Siemons with satisfaction.
“Yes, yes.” Dr. Neebs nodded, slapping his hands together and rubbing. “Perfect!” The gray-clad youngster busily scratched notes into his leather pad.
“A much more rapid and efficient result, Dr. Neebs. This is commendable progress. I shall write a most favorable report,” said Mr. Siemons, smiling widely and licking his lips.
Dr. Neebs beamed with pride. “Much obliged, Mr. Siemons. However, I am still concerned by the charge current intensity. I should like to be able to direct soul transfer with even greater accuracy.”
Mr. Siemons looked over at Lord Akeldama. “Do you think you left any behind?”
“Difficult to tell with such an ancient subject,” Dr. Neebs prevaricated, “but perhaps—”
He was cut off by a loud knock on the door.
“Me, sir!” said a voice.
“Expositus,” said Mr. Siemons.
The automaton turned stiffly and opened the door.
In came the other young scientist accompanied by Mr. MacDougall. They carried between them the body of a man, wrapped tightly in a long length of linen, looking like nothing so much as an ancient Egyptian mummy.
Upon seeing Miss Tarabotti, strapped to her own platform, Mr. MacDougall dropped his end of the body and rushed over to her.
“Good evening, Mr. MacDougall,” said Alexia politely. “I must say, I do not think very highly of your friends here. Their behavior is”—she paused delicately— “immodest.”
“Miss Tarabotti, I am so very sorry.” The American worried his hands together in a little ball and fluttered about her anxiously. “If I had only known what you were at the commencement of our acquaintance, I might have prevented this. I would have taken proper precautions. I would have...” He covered his mouth with both pudgy hands, shaking his head in an excess of troubled emotion.
Alexia attempted a little smile. Poor thing, she thought. It must be hard to be so weak all the time.
“Now, Mr. MacDougall,” Mr. Siemons interrupted their little tête-à-tête. “You know what is at stake here. The young lady refuses to cooperate willingly. So this is how it must be. You may stay to observe, but you must behave yourself and not interfere with the procedure.”
“But, sir,” the American protested, “shouldn't you test the extent of her abilities first? Make some notations, formulate a hypothesis, take a more scientific approach? We know so little about this so-called preternatural state. Shouldn't you utilize caution? If she is as unique as you say, you can hardly afford to take unnecessary risks with her well-being.”
Mr. Siemons raised an autocratic hand. “We are only performing a preliminary transfer procedure. The vampires call her kind 'soulless.' If our predictions are correct, she will not require any kind of electroshock treatment for revival. No soul, you see?”
“But what if it is my theory that is correct and not yours?” Mr. MacDougall looked worried beyond all endurance. His hands were shaking, and a sheen of sweat had appeared across his brow.
Mr. Siemons smiled maliciously. “We had better hope, for her sake, that it is not.” He turned away and issued instructions to his compatriots. “Prepare her for exsanguination. Let us analyze the true extent of this woman's capabilities. Dr. Neebs, if you are finished with that subject?”
Dr. Neebs nodded. “For the time being. Cecil, please continue to monitor his progress. I want immediate notification of dental protuberance.” He began rummaging about, unhooking the two machines from each other and then from Lord Akeldama and his companion sufferer. He pulled the tubes out of their respective arms roughly. Alexia was disturbed to see that the gaping hole in Lord Akeldama's flesh did not immediately begin to close and heal itself.
Then there was no more time for her to worry about Lord Akeldama, for they were moving the machine in her direction. Dr. Neebs approached her arm with a very sharp-looking knife. He ripped away the sleeve of her gown and poked about with his fingers at the underside of her elbow, looking for a vein. Mr. MacDougall made nonsensical murmurs of distress the entire time but did nothing to help her. In fact, he backed timidly away and turned his head as though afraid to watch. Alexia struggled futilely against her restraints.
Dr. Neebs focused his glassicals and placed the knife into position. A great crash reverberated through the room.
Something large, heavy, and very angry hit the outside of the door hard enough to jar the automaton that stood in front of it.
“What the hell's that?” Dr. Neebs asked, pausing with the knife resting against her skin.
The door reverberated again.
“It will hold,” said Mr. Siemons confidently.
But with the third great crash, the door began to split.
Dr. Neebs lifted the knife he had been about to use on Alexia and took up a defensive position with it instead. One of the younger scientists began to scream. The other ran about looking for a weapon of some kind among the scientific paraphernalia littering the room.
“Cecil, calm yourself!” yelled Mr. Siemons. “It will hold!” Clearly, he was trying to convince himself as much as anyone else.