Mr. Siemons rubbed his hands together delightedly. “Excellent, quite excellent. I shall not disturb Dr. Neebs; he looks to be concentrating deeply. I know how involved he gets in his work.”
“We are trying to moderate the intensity of the shock, sir. Dr. Neebs thinks this might extend survival time in the recipient,” explained the second young scientist, looking up from some large levers he was fiddling with on the side of the machine.
“Fascinating thought. Very interesting approach. Proceed, please, proceed. Do not mind me. Just bringing in a new specimen.” He turned and gestured at Miss Tarabotti.
“Very good, sir. I'll just get on, then,” said the first scientist, who went back to what he had been doing before they entered the room with barely a glance in Miss Tarabotti's direction.
Alexia looked Mr. Siemons full in the face. “I am beginning to understand,” she said in a quiet, deadly voice, “who is the monster. What you are doing is farther from natural than vampires or werewolves could ever get. You are profaning creation, not only with this”—she gestured rudely with her thumb at the automaton holding her tightly—“but with that.” She pointed to the machine with its suckerlike metal tubes reaching hungrily inside the body of her dear friend. The horrible contraption seemed to be drinking him dry, more hungry for blood than any vampire she had ever seen. “It is you, Mr. Siemons, who is the abomination.”
Mr. Siemons stepped forward and slapped her hard across the face. The sound, a sharp crack, caused Dr. Neebs to look up from his work. No one said anything, though, and all three scientists immediately returned to their activities.
Alexia recoiled back against the cold stillness of the automaton. Instantly, she jerked forward away from it once more, blinking away tears of frustration. When her vision had cleared, she could see that Mr. Siemons was once more smiling his tight little psychopathic smile.
“Protocol, Miss Tarabotti,” he said. Then he said something in Latin.
The automaton hauled Alexia over to one of the other sets of platforms. One of the young scientists stopped what he was doing and came to strap her down while the creature held her immobile. Mr. Siemons helped to secure her ankles and wrists with rope tied so tight Miss Tarabotti was certain she would lose all circulation to her extremities. The platform was decked out with massive manacles made of solid metal that looked to be iron coated in silver, and there were more of those awful wooden stakes, but the scientists clearly did not think she needed such extreme measures.
“Bring in a new test recipient,” Mr. Siemons ordered once she was secure. The gray-coated young man nodded, put his leather notebook on a small shelf, took off the glassicals, and left the room.
The automaton took up residence in front of the closed door, a silent wax-faced sentry.
Alexia twisted her head to one side. She could see Lord Akeldama to her left, still lying silent and unmoving on his platform. The older scientist, Dr. Neebs, seemed to have completed his task. He was now hooking another machine into the one with all the tubes. This new apparatus was a small engine of some kind, all gears and cogs. At its heart was a glass jar with metal plates at each end.
The remaining gray-clad young scientist came around and began to rigorously turn a crank attached to this device.
Eventually there issued a sharp crackling sound, and a vibrating beam of extraordinarily white light ran up the tube attached to Lord Akeldama's arm and penetrated his body. The vampire jerked and writhed, pulling involuntarily on the wooden stakes impaling his hands and feet. His eyes shot open, and he let out a keening scream of pain.
The young scientist, still cranking with one hand, pulled a small lever down with his other, and the beam of light shifted through the exsanguination machine to run up the tube attached to the seemingly comatose human subject on the platform next to Lord Akeldama.
This man's eyes also opened. He, too, jerked and screamed. The scientist stopped cranking, and the electrical current, for Alexia surmised that must be what it was, dissipated. Ignoring Lord Akeldama, who slumped with eyes closed, looking small and sunken and very old, Mr. Siemons, Dr. Neebs, and the young scientist rushed over to the other man. Dr. Neebs checked his pulse and then lifted his now-closed eyelids to check his pupils, staring hard through the glassicals. The man lay perfectly still.
Then, suddenly, he began to whimper, like a child at the end of a tantrum—out of tears, with only small dry heaving sobs left. All the muscles in his body seemed to lock up, his bones stiffened, and his eyes practically bulged right out of his head. The three scientists backed away but continued to watch him intently.
“Ah, there he goes,” said Mr. Siemons with satisfaction.
“Yes, yes.” Dr. Neebs nodded, slapping his hands together and rubbing. “Perfect!” The gray-clad youngster busily scratched notes into his leather pad.
“A much more rapid and efficient result, Dr. Neebs. This is commendable progress. I shall write a most favorable report,” said Mr. Siemons, smiling widely and licking his lips.
Dr. Neebs beamed with pride. “Much obliged, Mr. Siemons. However, I am still concerned by the charge current intensity. I should like to be able to direct soul transfer with even greater accuracy.”
Mr. Siemons looked over at Lord Akeldama. “Do you think you left any behind?”
“Difficult to tell with such an ancient subject,” Dr. Neebs prevaricated, “but perhaps—”
He was cut off by a loud knock on the door.
“Me, sir!” said a voice.