Page 7 of The Stalker

“Now, baby,” the baroness said. “Don’t be rude.”

Dr. Talbot smiled at them. “Forgive me, my lord, but before you pass judgement, there’s something you ought to see.”

~*~

The house looked just the way he remembered it on the inside. Dark, decadent, overdone. Someone had polished the floors, and furniture, and the massive chandelier that hung above the foyer. But now, unlike then, the place was teeming with modern people: Institute employees and researchers with pocket protectors and laminated ID cards on lanyards.

“Fulk, it’s as beautiful as I remember,” Anna said at his side. She walked with her fingertips resting on his arm, smiling as she looked at their surroundings.

Fulk wanted to smile for her sake, but couldn’t make himself.

Talbot led them to the room that had once been styled as a study – and which looked the same – and went straight for the soaring, seven-foot fireplace. The grate had been removed, and the old false back had been replaced with a heavy steel door that required keycard access. The hallway beyond was the same, though, old gray stone that led to a tight, spiraling staircase.

The first, main basement had been transformed into a lab. Banks of computer monitors, row-upon-row of steel tables topped with microscopes, centrifuges, beakers, hot plates, scales, and rack after rack of vials. Big walk-in refrigerators and cold storage bins. Biohazard labels everywhere. Techs in white lab coats and goggles worked with utter absorption, not looking up as they passed.

Talbot took them into a dark room with a projector screen set up, waved for them to sit.

Fulk chose to lean against the back wall.

Undeterred, the doctor got a film set up and clicked Play, the footage flickering across the screen.

“This is a cross-section of a pancreatic tumor, looked at under a microscope,” he said, which explained the amorphous blob. The clear, pointed end of a pipette entered the shot. Crimson liquid was piped onto the slide, a small puddle right beside the tumor. “This,” Dr. Talbot said, voice shaking with excitement, “is four milliliters of Prince Valerian’s blood.”

Valerian. A bone-deep flare of panic lit up Fulk’s body like a switchboard. He ignored it. “You drew his blood?”

“Oh yes, he was actually quite cooperative.”

“Fuckingidiot.”

“Fulk,” Annabel warned.

But the doctor didn’t seem to mind the name calling at all. “Watch,” he said, pointing up at the screen.

Fulk watched, and as he did, the blood slid over the tumor…and began to fizz like soda bubbles. And the tumorshrank. Noticeably.

Dr. Talbot turned to face him, the projector glinting off his glasses and his teeth as he smiled. “My lord, this is just one of many examples of the blood’s curative properties.”

“So it cures cancer. There’s a lot of shit vampire blood can do. Drain the fucker dry and go about your business.”

Talbot winced. “Well. It’s more complicated than that, I’m afraid.”

Fulk stared at him.

“What we’ve found so far is incredible, undoubtedly the medical discovery of the century – possibly of all time. But we’re in the early days of experimenting. Extensive testing is required to determine just how this blood interacts with human cells. We need to understand possible side effects. We’re still years away from synthesizing it into any sort of clinical drug that could be made available for widespread use. There are things like patents and funding to consider.”

“Of course,” Fulk said, deadpan.

Anna was sitting on a table, legs swinging, and shot him a raised-brow look.

“Thus far,” Dr. Talbot continued, “we’ve been testing with biopsies and tissue samples, yielding remarkable results, as you can see. But finding live test subjects who are willing to be injected is another matter entirely.

“The US military has generously provided us with a list of willing participants.” He made a sad face. “Veterans wounded in combat. They’ll try anything, no matter how dangerous and experimental.”

“And the government’s funding you,” Fulk said. “Wonderful. Then what the hell do you need me for?” He was already leaning back toward the door.

Talbot said, “I was just getting to that. Prince Valerian, as I’m sure you know, has a bit of a reputation.”

“For being a homicidal maniac?”

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