Funhouse (34 page)

“Miss Wood was pregnant at the time of her attack, but this man showed no sympathy.”

This time the court descended into chaos, people shouted and pointed, and the
Judge tried his best to regain order. Only Winthorpe and Greer were silent, staring at each other with neither willing to break eye contact first. As the din subsided, Winthorpe stood and walked back towards the jury.

“
Look at the injuries sustained by Miss Wood. Look at them and consider that she is just one of the lucky ones. Think of the others, the three hundred thousand other souls who Edwyn Greer took in order to satisfy his urge to kill. In closing, let me ask you this, ladies and gentlemen.”

He looked at them in turn, and then delivered his closing statement.

“If indeed, Mr Greer’s kind are able to sustain themselves on the blood of animals, then why did he feel the need to do this to poor Miss Wood and his countless other victims?”

Bernard straightened and looked at the
Judge, nodding curtly.

“
No further questions, Your Honour.”

Bernard sat back with his team, and Greer felt the definite shift in atmosphere. The
Judge told him it was his witness, and as he looked at the poor girl, he couldn’t think of a single thing to say. He had already subjected her to a harrowing experience, and couldn’t bear to even look at her, meaning that questioning was a non-starter.

“
No questions.” Greer said simply.

Across the table, Winthorpe and Longborough smiled

Day Three

The atmosphere in court for the final day of proceedings was tense and heavy. Outside, the police presence had been increased tenfold, due to the increasing number of clashes between both supporters and detractors of Greer. The last day was the one which those who were watching had been waiting for. It would be Greer’s turn to be questioned, and he, in turn would have the opportunity to question Longborough. After that, there was nothing more that could be done, and it was down to the jury to decide.

Greer was transported to the witness box, still shackled at his feet and hands. Winthorpe stood and approached him, the swagger in his step fitting perfectly with the arrogant grin as he prepared to begin his questioning.

“
Mr Greer! Do you consider yourself to be a good man?”

“
In what way?”

“
I mean. Do you believe in justice? Right and wrong? Crime and punishment?”

“
I do, although in some instances, the system is flawed.”

“
I see. And are you a remorseful man? Do you feel sorry for the crimes which, I don’t think are unfair to call, a reign of terror?”

“
That’s a very dramatic way to ask me, councillor.”

“
Nevertheless, it is a question I would like you to answer.”

“
Of course I do.”

“
Then why did you continue?”

“
Mr Winthorpe, it’s easy for you to stand there and judge me, but unless you have experienced it for yourself, it’s hard to make you understand.”

“
Oh, please.” Winthorpe said, flashing a wide smile. “Enlighten us.”

“
You are a smoker, aren’t you Mr Winthorpe?” Greer asked.

“
Not that it matters, but yes, yes I am.”

“
Even though you know that every drag you take is killing you, I would bet my life you will be lighting up a new one the second you are outside. You know it’s bad, and you know you should stop, but you just can’t. Now imagine that feeling and multiply it by a hundred thousand, and you still don’t come close. I hated what I had become, but I was powerless to stop it.”

“
But you have done it now for over two hundred years, surely if you were so unhappy; there were other ways to stop.”

Greer smiled. “You mean suicide?”

“Well, was it never an option Mr Greer? Not that I advocate such a thing, but I think the question has some validity.”

“
You really don’t understand, do you Mr Winthorpe?”

“
No, I don’t think I do. So please, explain to us all why you chose to continue to kill instead of doing what some might deem the honourable thing and take your own life.”

Greer smiled, and then grew serious. Everyone was looking at him, and taking a leaf out of Winthorpe's book, he spoke softly, yet clearly.

“In the winter of eighteen eighty eight, I was in London. The Jack the Ripper murders were still fresh on the minds of the community in Whitechapel, but I have to admit that I wasn’t one of them who cared. My body by then was alien to me. You call me a monster, but the conscience is the thing that seems to last the longest. The terrible things that my parasite had forced me to do weighed heavy, and I tried to blot out all thoughts of it with drink. Whitechapel then was a violent, dark place Mr Winthorpe. The poverty was a physical thing that you could smell in the air, buried beneath the stench of the slaughterhouses and the human waste which flowed through the streets.

I would get into fights, and even though I would let them kick me, and stab at me, my parasite kept me alive. That didn’t make me feel any better, so one night; I walked down to the docks. I filled my pockets with heavy stones and jumped into the Thames. I hoped that it would be enough, but the vampire is a clever one, Mr Winthorpe. Especially when it comes to its own self-preservation. Even though I fought it, my body emptied the stones from my pockets, and I pulled myself out of the filthy water gasping and furious that I had failed.

I tried again in nineteen twenty. Hung myself from a tree. I didn’t die. I just hung there, unable to breathe. Of course, my parasite could have freed me, but it was angry, it wanted to show me that it was in control. So it let me hang there, feeling the pain, lost in the limbo between life and death.

For five days I swung from that tree, just waiting for my vampire to free me. Eventually, a young hunter came across me and cut me down. My vampire pounced on him seconds after I hit the ground. It had a point to prove you see. And it proved it well.”

Greer looked around the court. Everyone, even Winthorpe was watching him as he continued.

“
Lesson learned, I went on until early sixty eight. I was in America then, my wanderings taking me from one continent to the next, trying to find a place where I belonged.

I encountered a man in Texas. He tried to rob me, and my vampire took control and split him from chest to pubic bone in the blink of an eye. As my vampire feasted on the spoils of its victory, my eyes fell upon the man’s gun. It was a pistol, and I thought that if I did it quick, then it would be done before my vampire could stop me.”

Greer smiled, and the expression melted away just as quickly as it had come.

“
Well, I tried for it. I scooped up the gun, whirled it around and jammed it into my mouth, but the vampire knew. It had known all along. I stood there with that hot, oil tasting steel pressing onto my tongue, and yet I couldn’t pull the trigger. I tried, tried with all the will I could muster, but the vampire wouldn’t let me. My punishment was that it forced me to cut off my own genitals.”

He looked at the shocked faces, and licked his lips.

“I stopped trying to fight it then. It was already too strong. I tried to kill myself Mr Winthorpe, more than once. But the vampire inside me just wouldn’t allow me to do it.”

Greer looked at Winthorpe, and watched as the lawyers smile faltered a little. He composed himself, and then looked to the crowd.

“A moving tale, Mr Greer. One told expertly by a man who is obviously intelligent. Told by a man who knows that his only chance to become free is to make this jury feel sorry for you. And perhaps they do. But I implore them to consider the facts as they stand, and not to take into account the moving and well told story that you have just relayed to us all.”

“
You call it a story, Mr Winthorpe; I call it answering the question that you have asked.”

“
Really? Well I put it to you, Mr Greer that this humble, remorseful persona is just that. An act, a way to try and sway the minds of these good people of the jury in your favour. I put to you that not only did you learn to live with the Longboroughvampirosis, but you embraced it, you thrived on it. And for two hundred years you pillaged and murdered at will.

“
You are wrong.”

“
I also put to you, that given the chance, you would take back the parasite, and once again feast on those who our legal system serves to protect. People like Clara Wood, a young girl who had a promising future cut short by a foul beast whose only desire was to maim, murder and feast. She is a self-confessed shell of the bubbly, outgoing person that she used to be, and we, as a society, call her one of the lucky ones, because she happened to survive?”

Winthorpe glanced to the jury and shook his head.

“No, Mr Greer, I don’t think we have the right to call Miss Wood lucky. I think a ruined life, is a ruined life however you try to spin it. She was lucky to survive, that much is true. But what about the others? What about the ones who didn’t survive? What about the countless innocents who have their blood on your hands Mr Greer? What about them?”

Greer glared at Winthorpe, and spoke softly.

“I’m not hearing a question, councillor.”

Winthorpe flashed a false, elastic smile at Greer, and turned to the
Judge.

“
No further questions.” He said, as he returned to his seat.

The tension was heavy in the air, and with everyone in apparent need of a break, the court broke for an early lunch, and when they returned, it was Longborough who was in the witness box, and Greer who was preparing to question him. Those in attendance waited with bated breath, as Greer approached the man who had, for better or worse, changed the direction of his life forever.

He was still shaken, stirred by the powerful words of Winthorpe, and for as much as he didn’t particularly care for him; he had to acknowledge a certain professional respect for the lawyer, who had delivered a masterful performance. Greer composed his thoughts, and approached Longborough. He looked at him carefully, and then spoke.

“
Do you believe in the law, Mr Longborough?”

“
Of course I do.” Longborough snapped.

“
Do you abide by it? Do you follow its rules?”

“
Yes.”

“
And would you consider me as a law abiding man?”

“
Of course not.”

“
But a man all the same.”

“
Yes.”

“
Would you please tell the court how the parasite is removed from someone unfortunate enough to be infected?”

“
Objection.” Bellowed Winthorpe. “This is hardly relevant.”

The Judge looked at Winthorpe, then at Greer.

“The line of questioning is valid. Answer the question please, Mr Longborough.”

Longborough took a deep breath as Bernard watched carefully.

“The process is complex, I’m not sure I could explain fully.”

“
Oh, I appreciate your need to keep the specifics private. Your company stands to make a lot of money if this trial goes the way you expect it to.”

“
That’s irrelevant I...”

“
Its fine.” Greer said with a thin smile. “Just a general description of the procedure for the court will suffice.”

Longborough squirmed in his seat, and seeing no way to get out of the question, reluctantly answered.

“We put the host under a local anesthetic, then using specialised laser equipment, we open the ribcage. Then, our teams carefully locate the parasite by moving the heart aside. From there, we carefully cut the parasite free.”

“
And what about the part that you said attaches to the brain?”

“
That isn’t removed. Without the main body of the host, it cannot survive. They are in separate locations, but part of the same organism.”

“
Is the process a complex one?”

“
Very.” Longborough said, straightening in his seat. “There are very few people alive that could perform it in the world.”

“
And you are one of them, correct?”

“
You know I am. I performed it on you, and here you stand.”

“
So for those of us who do not understand the complexity. Would it be in the same level as, say a heart transplant, for example?”

“
Yes, I’d say it was in the same ball park.”

“
So.” Greer said as he turned back towards the jury. “What we have here is a very dangerous, invasive surgery, correct?”

“
Yes, but if it’s done by someone like myself, who knows how to perform the procedure safely, the survival rate is almost seventy percent.”