Anno Dracula - Kim Newman [86]
‘Geneviève,’ a voice said, ‘look at me...’
A face was close. Charles.
‘Geneviève...’
30
THE PENNY DROPS
Deeming it best not to move her, he sent Clayton to Toynbee Hall for Dr Seward. In the meantime, he did what he could to make her comfortable. A pail of clean-ish water had been filled from a standpipe; he took a cloth to her face, wiping off her mask of blood and dirt.
Whatever it had been, it had left, bounding with a peculiar hopping gait. Beauregard wished his sword-cane had skewered the thing. He was revising his opinions on vampires in general, but that monster should not be alive.
He dabbed her face and she held his hand tight. She groaned as broken bones moved. He was reminded of Liz Stride at the last. And of Pamela. Both of those were lost, death coming as a mercy. He determined to fight for Geneviève Dieudonné. If he could not preserve one life, what use was he? She tried to speak, but he soothed her to silence. He picked a crushed butterfly out of her hair and flicked it away. Her head sat unnaturally, neck kinked at an angle, a bone jutting under the skin. A warm woman would be dead.
The crowds who had enjoyed the fight were still there, putting the market back together. A few loafers hung about, hoping to see more blood. Beauregard would have liked to floor one or two of them with kung-fu kicks, just to give the public a show.
Clayton returned with a dumpy woman. It was Mrs Amworth, the vampire nurse. Another man from the Hall, Morrison, was with them, carrying a doctor’s bag.
‘Dr Seward is off somewhere,’ Mrs Amworth explained. ‘You’ll have to make do with me.’
The nurse gently pushed him aside, and knelt by Geneviève. He still held her hand, but she winced as her arm shifted.
‘You’ll have to let go,’ said Mrs Amworth.
He put Geneviève’s hand down, arranging her arm by her side.
‘Good, good, good,’ Mrs Amworth said to herself as she felt Geneviève’s ribs. ‘The bones are setting properly.’
Geneviève half-sat, coughing, and then slumped.
‘Yes, that hurts,’ Mrs Amworth cooed, ‘but only to make you better.’
Morrison opened the bag and set it within Mrs Amworth’s reach. She took out a scalpel.
‘You’re going to cut?’ he asked.
‘Only her dress.’
The nurse slipped the blade under Geneviève’s neckline at the shoulder and slit down the arm, peeling away what was left of the sleeve. There were purplish patches on her upper arm, which Mrs Amworth squeezed with both hands. There was a pop and the shoulder socketed properly. The livid blotches began to fade.
‘Now, the trick,’ Mrs Amworth said. ‘Her neck is broken. We must set it quickly, or her bones will repair themselves wrongly and we’d have to break the spine again to fix her.’
‘Can I help?’
‘You and Morrison take her by the shoulders, and hold on for your lives. You, cabby, sit on her legs.’
Clayton was appalled.
‘Don’t be bashful. She’ll thank you for it. Probably give you a kiss.’
The cabby anchored himself over Geneviève’s knees. Beauregard and Morrison pinioned her shoulders. Only her head was free. Beauregard fancied Geneviève was trying to smile. She bared her fearful teeth.
‘This will hurt, dear,’ Mrs Amworth cautioned.
The vampire nurse took Geneviève’s head, slipping her hands under her ears and getting a solid hold. Experimenting, she moved the head slightly from side to side, pulling the neck. Geneviève’s eyes screwed shut, and she hissed, teeth meshing like the halves of a portcullis.
‘Try screaming, dear.’
The patient took the advice, and gave vent to an elongated screech as Mrs Amworth pulled hard and popped Geneviève’s skull back on to her spinal column. Then, straddling the patient, she took a strangler’s grip on the throat and wrestled the vertebrae into place. Beauregard saw the nurse straining as she accomplished her cure. Her placid face was reddened, fangs burst from her mouth. He was, even after all his experiences, shocked at the transformation.
The four of them stood,