Jekyll & Hyde Inc.

“Exactly so,” said Edward, grinning unpleasantly. “I am the monster inside every man; the face most people never dare to show the world. And I love it.”

Daniel took a moment to think about that. Edward stared at him unblinkingly, and rather than meet that stare and perhaps fail to, Daniel gave all his attention to Edward’s desk. There was nothing on it apart from two photos in old-fashioned silver frames. He expected to see the usual shots of wife and family, but instead they were faded images of two men in Victorian clothes, captured in the stiff unsmiling poses of the period.

“The scrawny fellow on the left is Dr. Jekyll,” said Edward. “The one on the right is his friend and lawyer, Utterson.”

Daniel looked at him sharply. “In the original version, Utterson was the narrator. Are you saying the story was based on real people?”

“Oh yes,” said Edward. “Though of course the author found it necessary to change a lot of the details. To protect the guilty.”

“So Dr. Jekyll’s potion . . . ”

“Was real.”

“That part of the story never did make sense to me,” said Daniel. “Why would the good and saintly Dr. Jekyll want to take a potion he knew would turn him into someone utterly evil?”

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” said Edward. “Perhaps he saw it as releasing the potential in him. To be strong, instead of weak.”

“So, what relation are you, to the original Mr. Hyde?” Daniel said politely.

Edward’s grin widened. “I am the original Mr. Hyde. I am what the potion created, still alive after all these years and stronger than ever. Now . . . if I told anyone else that, they’d think I was crazy. But you’ve already seen your fair share of monsters, haven’t you?”

Daniel thought of Paul, and the horrors in the cellar, and nodded slowly.

“I’ve read your official file,” said Edward. “Passed on to me by one of my contacts inside the force. I have people everywhere . . . Your story made for fascinating reading. Someone who’d been broken by contact with the underworld of monsters, but hadn’t let that beat him.”

“Are you sure about that?” said Daniel.

“Of course,” said Edward. “Or you wouldn’t be here.”

“My friend Paul came to see me,” said Daniel. “He’s a vampire now. And that word didn’t throw you at all, did it?”

“Not in the least,” said Edward.

“He told me about the vampires, the werewolves, and the Frankenstein family.” Daniel made himself say the incredible names steadily, not allowing himself to sound uncertain. “Paul proved to me that he was . . . undead. So I have to believe.”

“Then let’s start with the Frankenstein Clan,” said Edward. “The gods of the living scalpel, the sculptors of flesh. Always on the cutting edge of medicine, and what it can do to people. Some of which you saw, during that ill-judged raid of yours.”

“It wasn’t my idea,” said Daniel. “I had no idea of what I was getting into.”

“What did Commissioner Gill think she was sending you into, I wonder?” said Edward. “I don’t suppose it matters now. You’ve seen what the Frankenstein Clan does. To them, we’re all just grist to their mill. But if you think they’re bad, they’re nothing compared to the Vampire Clan.

“Their elders are centuries old, steeped in blood and horror. They specialize in the more lucrative forms of seduction—everything from high-priced escorts to targeted honey traps. Because you only ever see what a vampire wants you to see, they can be anyone you ever dreamed of.”

Daniel wondered if the Paul he saw was the real thing, or just a mask Paul allowed him to see. But then, why would Paul want to look that bad? Unless there was something even worse, underneath . . . He realized his thoughts were drifting, and made himself concentrate.

“Vampires can be your first love, or anyone you’ve ever lusted after from afar,” said Edward. “Your wildest dream and most secret fantasy. But of course once they’ve fed on you, you’re their slave forever. You’d be surprised how many powerful people bare their throat in secret. And then, there are the mummies . . . ”

“Hold it,” said Daniel. “You mean . . . actual mummies?”

“Of course,” said Edward. “When those Victorian archaeologists started breaking into long-lost Egyptian tombs, some of them were astonished at what they found waiting beyond the locked doors. The mummies weren’t supposed to survive what the priests did to them, but the drugs they’d already taken kept death at arm’s length. So that when their tombs were finally opened, the mummies got out.

“And now the Clan of Mummies deals in drugs—everything from out-of-this-world highs to the promise of immortality.” Edward shook his great head. “I’m not convinced by that last one. The mummies aren’t immortal, just remarkably well preserved.

“The werewolf clan was pressed into service long ago, to provide protection for the other monsters. They’re really just attack dogs on short leashes, used to keep peace between the Clans and deal with any outsider who might pose a threat. Second-class monsters, because sometimes they’re only human.