Infernal Vices (Resurrectionist #3)

EPILOGUE

The aftermath of that fateful night was well documented in the press.

The late Benjamin Cavendish was hailed a hero, and story of how he saved the Indian Princess from vile ritual abuse by a wanted criminal gave the press the story to end the century.

The Gentleman Thief went from hero to zero in the eyes of the public when Charles’ exposé revealed the salacious details of the American fraudster, pornographer, and abuser who was behind the robberies.

Charles won an award for his investigative journalism, having revealed he’d been acting undercover to assist Detective Inspector Dancer in apprehending Blake.

Judge Morehead and Sir Percy Faulkner did acquiesce, and as requested Euan was released from the asylum with a healthy sum deposited anonymously in his bank account to buy his silence.

Both elderly men retired within a month of the debacle at St Fabians.

Lord Arthur Spencer never even admitted he was a guest at Seabourn Abbey.

He left England for a grand tour and I never heard of him again.

Leopold was traumatized by the events that occurred during his time in England.

He returned to London and remained with Nissa for several months to recover.

During that time he ceased his pursuit of mindless pleasure and became a quieter, bookish, and more thoughtful gentleman.

Leopold rejected his father’s wish for him to marry and to run the family estate.

He later spent some time in Vienna and took up study into the workings of the human mind, under Dr.

Sigmund Freud.

He and Nissa remained dear friends. She visited him a time or two in Vienna, but he did not return to London.

Sebastian and Nissa opened an agency and over the years they did good business, especially when commissioned to assist the famous Detective Inspector Jack Dancer.

He became somewhat of a legend in Police circles, forever remembered for tracking down the international confidence trickster, and gentleman thief who had met his end at Seabourn Abbey.

Over time Nissa brokered deals to purchase the townhouses either side of my home on Bedford Square.

She took one as her own, and gave the other to her father.

Doorways were made to connect the two houses to mine, and so to the outside world I remained a stoic bachelor, while inside my home I lived with my family, Sebastian and our daughter Nissa.

Sebastian and I welcomed a new century together full of hope and love, dining with the small band of friends we had kept close after Fratres Seminis was disbanded.

Charles Ashe remained my dearest friend and the stable boy, Will Thomas became his beau after moving to London to seek out the artist who stole his heart.

On 22nd January 1901 Queen Victoria passed away to be with her beloved Albert, ending the Victorian era and leading us to the short-lived Edwardian reign.

Sebastian won his wager as new mechanical technology began to encroach upon our simple way of life.

Electric lights were now commonplace, as were telephones, and the motorcar was a surprise triumph.

Sebastian had even purchased one and I learned to embrace the new way of travelling as we took many outings in the countryside.

My life with Sebastian took on a normalcy that I cherished.

I continued running Hannan’s auction house and Sebastian worked with me at times, specifically travelling with me around Europe to seek works of art and antiques.

The truth of our situation came upon us gradually, neither Sebastian nor I quite believing in the possibility that something mystical had occurred that fateful Easter night in 1898.

It began with innocuous things like paper cuts that healed over in seconds, and a realization that even though I was now in my late sixties, I retained my inky black curls and did not appear to have aged a day since my fiftieth birthday.

Sebastian retained his handsome, boyish visage too, and we were both ribbed with accusations that, like Oscar Wilde’s protagonist Dorian Grey, we retained paintings in an attic that took on our sins while we remained ever youthful.

We were indeed the healthiest of men, and while our small band of friends, family, and acquaintances were struck by the desperate blows of illness and of aging, we continued to remain healthy and young.

Sebastian had always wanted to see the Americas and so a journey was planned for our fourteenth year together.

We were first class passengers on a marvellous ocean liner on its maiden voyage from Southampton to New York.

The ill-fated journey is well-documented in the history books.

We were of the handful of men who survived that dreadful night.

Sebastian’s ability to think on his feet saved us for when the ship was going down he tied us together with a rope and even though we clung to one another and were plunged into the black icy dark waters, when we were pulled into a lifeboat among the bodies of poor souls who lost their lives, we came too, surprising our rescuers.

The boatmen said that they were at the stage of pulling only bodies aboard and they were sure we too had perished—that after so many hours in the frigid water we should not be alive.

We were hailed as one of the few miracles to come from the international tragedy of the Titanic. We never did reach the Americas, but instead were taken to Canada, and on returning to England we vowed never to sail again.

The First World War saw Nissa abandon her investigative business pursuits to become a nurse, just as her mother had done to help those in need.

Both Sebastian and I were officially too old for conscription, but we helped the war effort in Whitehall.

I did not agree with many decisions that were made at the top, and the pointless massacre of so many young men during the fight was a deep wound on our great nation.

We feared the worst at watching the rise of Hitler, and when the Second World War became a reality we stepped up and helped with the war effort again.

We were together strolling to Whitehall when the first Blitz occurred and we stopped to shelter in a doorway of the Bedford Hotel on Southampton Row.

A bomb was dropped and exploded outside the hotel.

Every single window pane of every building in the vicinity shattered, along with many lives.

Sebastian and I should have died that day too.

Thirteen people were killed and twenty-two were injured.

I recall the blast and the pain, but after a time of total darkness I heaved in a lungful of dusty, burning air.

I opened my eyes and looked to my lover to see a shard of shrapnel embedded in his throat, his life blood seeping away, taking him from me again.

But then in front of my eyes the blood reversed its direction, the shrapnel falling from Sebastian’s throat as if had melted, and he gasped in a breath.

It was then that I realized what I witnessed was more than good luck.

We had shared four such brushes with death, and been resurrected.

We lived and remained untouched by the passing of time while those around us grew old and passed away.

We had in fact attained the immortality that Lawrence Blake thirsted for, and the realization of it came as quite a shock.

We had not intended to live forever.

I’d believed the Lord would allot us a span of days and then I would join him in the afterlife.

But no, that was not our path.

I’d watched my beloved die, and be resurrected several times.

Sebastian’s disbelief was stronger than mine was, and so he’d tested fate to do its worst, throwing himself into dangerous situations, speeding in his damnable motorcar, jumping from an airplane with a parachute, tempting providence, again and again, but no matter, he always came back to me.

I wondered a time or two if there were others like us, men, and women who had centuries ago used the phallus in that ancient ritual and attained immortality.

As of yet I have not found an answer to that question.

As the years passed we saw the horrors man inflicted upon man, and we vowed to invest our time in helping those who could not help themselves.

We set up a charity and offered sanctuary to men and women like us who were shunned by society because of their attraction to the same sex.

We adored one another with an undying flame, and we shared the grief and loss of those we loved, through illness, war, and old age.

We offered use of the Staff to Nissa when she finally found her life partner, but they decided to take the time the Lord had gifted them.

Sebastian was distraught that he would one day bury his only daughter.

We had seen so many pass through the veil, and I must admit, after a time I grew jealous of those who were able to make that journey to eternal peace.

We moved from Bedford Square after the Second World War, the square being a rare survivor of Hitler’s bombardments.

We left the houses as they were as time capsules to lives lived and friends lost.

I installed a manager at Hannan’s Auction house so my age-old business continued without me.

Post War Sebastian Cavell was a man in need of excitement and a mission, and so he invested in the burgeoning film industry and developed his passion for illusion and mystery.

We amassed a fortune and lived in many cities around Europe.

When we finally returned to London in 1955, we had not aged a day since the 10th April 1898.

I was one hundred and five years old.

My ever-youthful Sebastian was ninety-three.

Everyone we had known in London was dead and gone, and so, we began again, turning a page, starting yet another new chapter.

We took on the identities of our non-existent nephews who were, strangely enough, named after their uncles.

Therefore, we remained Ben and Sebastian and returned to live in our home on Bedford Square, where, in my secret room the Staff of Asklepios remained untouched.

I do not know when this life will end, or how.

I suppose that makes me as human as any other man.

I’ve had years where I wished I could end it all, and stop.

I’ve had years where I’ve fallen into depression from grief, to be propped up and put on my feet again by the unfaltering love of my Sebastian.

I still hope that one day I can take the final journey with my beloved, and at long last discover what lies beyond the veil.

****

THE END