Monday, June 6, 1870

Today's events included the murder of my cousin Matthew and a great deal of singing and dancing.

The day began when I rose from my desk after writing the previous entry. I thought it would be a good day, as I was finally free of yesterday's headache.

The moment did not survive long--I heard Edward clanging away in the Carriage house. It was yet a bit too early for that, especially as so many of us were out very late and several of our party are recovering from injury.

I went down to ask him to quiet down and the strangest thing happened. As I entered the carriage house workshop, all Edward's collection of music boxes started playing in unison (not their normal music). All the clocks in the house, even my pin watch, were ticking together. I could hear Edward singing.

He scampered out of the loft of the carriage house, taking wild leaps, and clambered up the side of the house on a trellis (I must remember to ask Graves to have the trellises all reinforced--I thought he might damage it!). When he went up on the roof, he was swinging about more wildly than usual and I feared he might fall.

I opened my mouth to remonstrate, and found myself Singing! I was helpless to stop. To make it worse, I was also swaying with my hands in the air, like some sort of musical clockwork... The words I sang were "Tick-Tock." That was all.

Edward's antics on the roof became more and more alarming. He was swinging round and round on the lighting rod at the peak of the house, and he let go and sailed through the air a scant moment before a sudden bolt struck the rod.

When at last the song concluded, he was sliding at speed toward the edge of the roof. I was abruptly free, and I screamed to Edward and ran forward to catch him if he should fall. He didn't, but I was so frightened, I kept screaming for rather longer than I would have expected.

Mrs Cuthbert had come out of the house. I described what had happened and we all went inside to discuss it with the others.

As we approached the laboratory, I could hear singing... Salmalin and young Nigel appeared to be singing a very unlikely duet. Miss Chigwidgeon (the subject of their duet) and Sir Cosmo had paused outside the doors and were listening with embarassed silence. Funally the song concluded, and everyone seemed to try to pretend they hadn't heard the words.

We found Miss Whitnell in the Music Room, looking closely at the Harpsichord, which had been playing on its own during Edward's singing fit. She said that there was a strong magical disturbance, but she couldn't understand it or perceive it clearly.

Edward, true to form, was so delighted with the self-playing harpsichord that he was intent on rigging it up with parts salvaged from a self-playing Piano. I thought it might be a quieter project than the "sinkable boat," so I encouraged him to work on schematics for this refit. He did partially disassemble the Harpsichord in the process, but he seemed to be able to put it back together.

Meanwhile, we were all discussing this muscial phenomenon. I was just beginning to recover my composure when it happened again, this time affecting most of the household. Several of us in different areas of the house were singing verses by turns, with all joining in the chorus and the antiphonal echoes of each line. The topic of the song seemed to be our respective duties and sense of responsibility (which is no doubt why not quite everyone was singing). I could hear accompanying music clearly, but the source was not identifiable.

Once we were released from this song, Miss Whitnell, Mrs Cuthbert and Miss Chigwidgeon went upstairs to try to use their scrying to discover the nature of the singing fits. While they were doing this, they were stricken themselves, and I heard music from a large pipe organ, coming from thin air. Edward and I had gone up to the schoolroom to work on harpsichord schematics. At some moments the music seemed louder in the room and Edward was singing from the same song. Though, it didn't seem quite like Edward, not even quite like Wilhelmina. I was relieved when the pipe organ ceased.

When the ladies had completed their search, they indicated that the spell or what-have-you which was affecting us was too powerful for them to pinpoint or break.

We determined that all of us had had a dream wherein we were thrust onto a stage, and we could see a conductor in the Orchestra Pit who was red-skinned with small horns on his head, like some caricature of Satan. This might be connected, and might indicate something of the cause of the disturbances.

Miss Whitnell sent inquiries to Mr Ramsay and the Order of St Jerome, and also to Mr Weasley.

It seemed that we were, at present, helpless to prevent further fits, so we attempted to carry on with our usual business.

Mr O'Flaherty came by to collect Dr Wilson, and off they went to the Rocket works, accompanied by Lt Wooster and Mr Caine. Lt Lochsley stopped by to bid farewell to Mrs Cuthbert, as he will be traveling to India aboard the Griffin.

We soon heard from Inspector MacGregor. He had two matters to discuss. First, he confirmed that the singing and dancing was affecting all the Town. Worse, it appeared that some persons afflicted with these fits had burst into flame and been killed by it. This was far more serious than inconvenience and embarrassment.

The Inspector had also come to ask me if I had a relation named Matthew Sinclair. When I replied that I had, he very somberly informed me that Matthew had been murdered. The Circumstances were very odd, and he hoped that we could help.

Of course, we agreed.

Miss Whitnell, Mrs Cuthbert and I, accompanied by Mr Cuthbert and driven by Edward, drove to the scene of the crime.

Matthew's body had been found outside the Royal Gallery of Illustration, the Theatre where he has been playing violin in the Orchestra. His body had been hanging by one foot from a cable strung between the Theatre and another building across the street. This cable was normally used to hang banners advertising programmes at the Theatre.

Inspector MacGregor told us that the body appeared to have no wounds, but that the Police Doctor's examination showed that it had been Exsanguinated. They had looked for damage to the throat, and found only 2 small scars. I thought my former Cousin Peter was very likely involved in this.

The Mystics described a scene from the very early morning--My cousin Matthew leaving by the stage door and being approached by a dark haired man (recognised by Miss Whitnell as the second-oldest vampire of the Trio we saw at Les Fantastiques). Cousin Matthew greeted the man as a friend. Suddenly, the man seized Matthew and carried him straight up into the air. Above the street, Matthew was brought to the red-haired vampire and to a shriveled, horrible creature presumed to be the husk of Peter Sinclair. They drained Matthew's blood and the red-haired one dabbed a bit of its own blood on the wounds in Matthew's neck.

While we were in the Theatre District, we looked around and spoke with several people about the goings-on in the Gallery of Illustration and the neighborhood in general, and tried to find out about Matthew's life.

We also happened upon Mr Rupert Pryce, who has a starring role in a successful production at the Orpheum Mr Pryce also spoke of the singing fits ravaging the Town, and his comments proved useful later.

We proceeded to the Morgue, ostensibly so I could formally identify Matthew's body. Our additional purpose was to ensure that he wouldn't get up and start biting. My colleagues assured me that he was truly dead.

Our next stop was Matthew's flat, where we hoped to find clues as to why he was the chosen victim. The Inspector had interviewed some of his colleagues at the Theatre, who had not indicated any particular enemies. They had all commented that he seemed popular, and had been seen socially with several young ladies, but was not scandalously involved with any of them. He had also not shown a marked preference for any one of them.

When we searched his flat we found that he had been corresponding intimately with someone called Julian. Miss Whitnell felt we should send this person a note to let him know of Matthew's death. They decided to find out about the author by scrying. It turned out that this Julian was our dark-haired vampire, and he had been shamelessly manipulating Matthew since Peter had introduced them.

We now had the address of the lair of the vampires. Mrs Cuthbert and I were particularly anxious to gather some reinforcements and hunt them down, since they couldn't venture out by day. We couldn't hope for a better opportunity!

I feel a powerful need to expunge this threat. I can't help but feel that the murder of Matthew was a hasty and desperate act--spurred by the severe injury our prank caused to the former Peter. It seems to me that the vampires were cultivating him for some purpose, and were forced by circumstance to use him for a more fundamental need.

One hypothesis has been that Matthew's consanguinity with Peter is somehow useful in restoring Peter. This seems improbable, but it still gives me a particular frisson of dread. If Peter and his friends had come after me first, they probably would be permanently laid to rest already, but only because my colleagues are numerous and formidable. If I were on my own, I would probably be an easy target for them.

However strong my sense of purpose, I knew we couldn't beat the vampires without the help of our colleagues. Unfortunately, when we got back to Mayfair, the house was entirely occupied with the issue of the singing fits.

Miss Chigwidgeon had accompanied her brother back to his home in Southwark, where they had encountered Mitzi, the proprietor of Les Fantastiques. Mitzi had been telling her employees to leave town because of the singing fits, and had quite a bit of information about a previous manifestation of this problem. Apparently, this same Mystical effect had caused the London Fire in 1666. Mitzi described it as if from firsthand experience. Interesting.

Mitzi indicated that the "curse" was probably instigated by a person forming an agreement with a particular demon, who would give the person a token and who would require a "sacrifice" to conclude the bargain. It sounds just like fiction to me, but it was the most solid information we had gotten thus far.

Miss Chigwidgeon also showed us a necklace of silver chain which Mitzi had given to her, (and one to Emily and one to George). Mr Chigwidgeon had been wearing one like it earlier as well. Miss Whitnell pronounced that this was faery silver, and emitted a protective message when she touched it. It didn't seem to prevent the singing fits. I suspect that it is intended to dissuade attacks by the Vampires.

Mrs Cuthbert and I were unsuccessful in persuading the rest of the League that we should destroy the vampires immediately, before they could relocate. Everyone else was much more concerned with the singing fits, especially since they were causing, on average, one fatality per hour. and threatened the whole city with fire.

I admit that I was somewhat swayed to this view after our household was struck with further embarrassing songs. I took the precaution of locating a large bucket and filling it with water, in case anyone was about to catch fire No one did, this time.

We were still lacking key information about how to stop this "curse," but we had a few ideas...

We split up to try the following leads:

I proceeded to the Detective Department with Inspector MacGregor to look over the reported incidents and see if we could find a geographical pattern which might suggest a focal point.

Miss Chigwidgeon returned to Southwark to look for Miss Mitzi and see if she had discovered any further useful data. Accompanying her were Miss Whitnell, Sir Cosmo, Lt Wooster, and Salmalin.

Mrs Cuthbert, Dr Wilson, Mr O'Flaherty and George went in search of Mr Francis Burnand, the composer of the musical play that Matthew had been playing in. This Mr Burnand had had some very successful projects in collaboration with others, but this present show (a political satire about Napoleon III) has received poor reviews so far. Information received from Mr Pryce and from Mr Ramsay have provoked our Suspicions regarding Mr Burnand.

Mr Pryce is starring in one collaborative project by Mr Burnand--a musical play about re-animating the dead or some similar disgusting spectacle. That project has been so sucessful that it has just moved to the Orpheum Theatre.

Mr Ramsay had indicated that Mr Burnand's research for the successful production had led him to some "dangerous" sorts of books, and he might have stumbled upon the necessary incantations to invoke the singing "curse."

Mr Cuthbert, Edward, and Miss Bertilde went in search of dancers, as a dream reported by Mr Pryce had indicated that a dancer might be involved in this curse, perhaps as the sacrifice, perhaps as the instigator, perhaps as the bearer of the token described by Mitzi.

In all, our courses of action seemed vague, like grasping at straws. None of us really knew what we were looking for. Our plan was to learn what we could and then convene at the Gallery of Illustration in time for the evening performance of "The Emperor's New Clothes." (For some reason, Henri Tabatier decided we should all go, and so he purchased tickets for everyone--how dreadful).

My researches at the Detective department proved unproductive. In fact, my visit there was nearly severely mortifying. I not only overheard a singing fit by Mr Frazer (extolling the virtues of honesty--rather sappy, actually), but I was compelled to a song of my own. Fortunately, I had gone in search of a bucket of water to dump over Mr Frazer (should he show signs of combusting), and so I was alone in a storage closet when I started to sing. The curse does seem to lend a carrying quality to our songs, but no one showed any evidence of having heard my little aria, not even the painfully honest Mr Frazer.

Anyhow, Inspector MacGregor and I left the Detective Department and started toward the Theatre District at the appointed time. The Inspector gallantly offered to carry my bucket of water, but I insisted he should keep his hands free. While we were enroute, we were forced to stop and sing once (just one verse and some chorus of a seemingly larger song), and we saw a group of Spanish-looking dancers on a streetcorner. After the dancers concluded their performance, they vanished and left a storm of little handbills featuring an advertisement--"Foreign Noble Seeks Mate." It was strange enough to be part of the curse, but I coudn't make sense of it.

When we arrived at the Theatre, most of the League had arrived and were preparing to go in. As our Mystics had suspected, the Royal Gallery of Illustration proved to be a major Locus of this curse. All the ushers were in Spanish costumes like the dancers on the streetcorners had been.

The party which had gone to Southwark reported that they had had a melee with a group of the dancers. The dancers had proved to have magical (demonic) capabilities and had disappeared suddenly, taking Lt Wooster with them.

Now the printed programmes at the Theatre indicated a change in the cast--Lt Henry Wooster was now cast as "the Groom."

Various members of the League were filing in to the Theatre to reconnoiter. I felt it sould be foolish to walk right in like the proverbial lambs. Mrs Cuthbert and I went to the stage door with Inspector MacGregor, who gained us all admittance with his professional credentials. We spoke with the stage manager, who was much the Worse For Drink.

Mrs Cuthbert and I looked around backstage, and found a dressing room door which she described as a Portal to a demonic plane or some such insanity. I spotted another room which had a group of the Spanish demons, all sharpening long knives.

I found that quite alarming, and went to find Miss Bertilde. I told her about the demons with knives and she went to hold the hallway against their advance, whenever it might begin.

We had all come to the conclusion that whatever the performance on stage was supposed to look like, it would ultimately be a ritual of sacrifice. Its conclusion would mean death or removal of Lt Wooster and also whoever had the Token, and most likely a city-wide conflagration.

We determined to disrupt the ritual in any way we could until we could find the Token and determine how to remove the "curse."

Edward was already up in the rigging preparing to drop sandbags (which are used as weights for raising and lowering curtains) on any offensive demons. I joined him.

Miss Mitzi had appeared at the Theatre as well, and she proceeded to co-opt the orchestra and give them new music.

The demon who had orchestrated this curse (so to speak) finally appeared, and with her was Lt Wooster. The Lieutenant was beaming like the idiot he is, having no idea that he was intended to be some sort of sacrifice.
Mrs Cuthbert and Miss Chigwidgeon located the Token, a bronze medallion, hanging around the neck of a young actress. We took it off of her and immersed it in a bucket of water (in case of combustion).

Mrs Cuthbert began to recite the incantation written on the medallion in various transposed ways (which she had deduced would be the way to "unspeak" the curse). It was difficult however, and she had to try several times.

Meanwhile, everyone onstage was forced to participate in a singing and dancing performance, This included all our party who had been charging toward the demon with whatever weapons they had to hand.

The power of the curse was simply too strong for us to subvert. This demon seemed to have the ability to reshape reality to whatever she wished. The audience was tranfixed, even the Marquis' friends (who had brought rotten vegetables to hurl at the stage if they didn't like the performance) were watching as though this were the best work they'd ever seen.

Just when I thought I'd scream with frustration, Mrs Cuthbert successfully pronounced the incantation backwards. All the singing and dancing stopped, and all our party charged at the demon. Edward and I even dropped sandbags on her. The audience began to flee, and were hurried on their way by Mr O'Flaherty shouting, "Fire!"

The Demon did not appear to be seriously harmed by our attacks, but she was very angry with Mr Burnand. She told him that he had failed to uphold the bargain, and so would never make music again (implying that at some point, contrary to what we had seen, he had made music of some sort). She took her medallion and vanished from sight.

We were compelled to sing one last song. When it had concluded, we all stood, slightly dazed, for a moment, then searched the Theatre. All the Spanish dancers were gone. The dressing room which had opened into the Demonic Portal had reverted to a small and shabby broom closet. The Audience was wandering away wondering what that had been about. Even the Marquis' friends were carrying their flowers and their vegetables away in the direction of the nearest pub.

Despite our weariness, I was anxious to look for the Vampires. I knew they wouldn't be in their lair now that the sun had set.

Mitzi had said that the Vampires are likely to have fled the city at their first opportunity to escape the curse. I am nevertheless determined to hunt them out first thing in the morning.

Our associates in the Order of St Jerome have identified the red-haired eldest vampire as Count Severin, supposedly a very powerful and old creature. Indeed, the Order's warning of his powers helped dissuade my colleagues from rushing right over to thier flat. How helpful.

Personally, I don't think two-and-a-half Vampires stand a chance against the League. After all, we did beat a 16-hundred-year-old Necromancer and his undead army. How do a few badly dressed fellows who wilt in the sunlight stack up to that? If this so-called Count is so old and powerful, what is he doing hanging about with a nit-wit like my Cousin Peter?

I am merely working myself up with false bravado. I do understand that these creatures are very strong and hard to kill, as well as very devious and fascinating.

If the Vampires have left London, I am afraid they might try to go to Somersetshire to prey upon my family. I hope the letter I wrote to my Mother has reached her, and she won't let them in if they go there.

I will have to ask Sir Cosmo for leave to go home to look after matters there. I hope Mr Ramsay will lend me some stakes.

Proceed to A momentous letter

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