to the purifying light of the Sun.
VARDALEK (screeching)
Noooooo!
KOSTAKI takes hold of VARDALEK. A couple of CARPATHIAN soldiers carry an iron lattice-work cage in the shape of a man. KOSTAKI presses the struggling, screaming VARDALEK into the cage, which is locked shut. It is like a see-through sarcophagus. A heavy chain is slung through a hook on a gibbet-like arm that swings out over the street, and the cage is hoisted up above the crowd. VARDALEK rattles. JAGO, unsure how to react, is stunned.
VARDALEK
Comrades, my friends... there is a mistake, Prince Dracula could not...
The dawn breaks. KOSTAKI, HENTZAU and the CARPATHIANS step back into the shadows. Sunlight falls on VARDALEK, and his face begins to smoulder and bubble. He screeches and hangs limply in the cage. He shrivels and blackens, screams fading to whimpers. Chunks of sloughed skin fall to the cobbles and sputter in the sunlight like cooking bacon. From the mouth of the alley, KOSTAKI and HENTZAU look up at VARDALEK. The crowd has backed away. HENTZAU rolls up the proclamation.
HENTZAU (sub-titled Romanian)
A job well done, lads.
KOSTAKI (sub-titles)
It is a mistake to let them know we can suffer and die. The Prince has made a mistake.
HENTZAU (sub-titles)
Vardalek was a fucking monster, Kostaki. Out of control. Ravening. There’s only room for one such.
They look up at VARDALEK. We follow their gaze, passing the faces of OLIVER, KATE, DIARMID, JAGO, CATHY, MARY, the CHINESE GIRL§. LESTRADE hurries up and is shown HENTZAU’s warrant. VARDALEK, still feebly struggling, is not truly dead. He is in despair. We climb up, to look down on VARDALEK. Everyone looks up at the rising sun. A shadow falls on them all, huge and batwinged. JAGO crosses himself. HENTZAU salutes.#
* * *
ABOVE LONDON. EXT. DAWN.
We fly over the city on huge batwings.
GYMNASIUM. INT. DAY.
The Victorian equivalent of a squash club. Young men in pairs fence, heavily masked and padded. Servants bear refreshments on trays. ARTHUR, in white fencing clothes, waits, hefting a foil, piercing imaginary opponents. CHARLES arrives, similarly dressed, late.
CHARLES
My apologies, Art. I didn’t make it to bed until nearly dawn.
ARTHUR
Vampire hours, old man. Penny tells me you’re quite the rake, mysteriously absent at all hours.
CHARLES
Duty, I’m afraid.
ARTHUR
Duty. Can’t be doing with it.
They face each other on a mat. A few of the others break off to watch this bout. CHARLES swishes his foil and reaches for a face-mask.
ARTHUR
Mind if we have a bash without the masks, Charles? They get infernally in the way.
CHARLES (not sure)
If you insist.
ARTHUR
I do. Now, defend your lady’s honour...
Before CHARLES is quite ready, ARTHUR slashes at him. CHARLES parries, awkwardly but effectively.
ARTHUR
Very neat, Charles.
ARTHUR tries another attack. CHARLES strains to fend him off. The match continues. ARTHUR is all effortless moves and confidence, making comments. CHARLES is stretched, silent, concentrating: outclassed by the vampire, but determined to give a good account of himself.
ARTHUR
I hear tell you’re involving yourself in this Ripper business. (CHARLES grunts.) Nasty affair. No credit in it. Do you have any ideas?
CHARLES (warding off an especially underhand thrust)
Not as yet.
ARTHUR
Pity. The PM would be grateful for a speedy conclusion.
CHARLES
So would some other scoundrels I met with last night.
ARTHUR
You are seen too much with scoundrels. Penny is beginning to tire of it. (He deliberately scrapes CHARLES’s face.) Sorry, old man. Very careless of me.
With cold determination, CHARLES does not lose his temper. He out-fences ARTHUR and touches him with sword-point several times on the torso.
ARTHUR
I say, you’re ahead, aren’t you.
ARTHUR moves inhumanly fast, pinning CHARLES to the wall, foil-edge at his throat. His fangs are extruded. CHARLES’s sword arm is held, gripped at the wrist.
ARTHUR
That about settles it, though.
ARTHUR licks the trickle of blood from CHARLES’s cheek, and lets him go. Servants arrive with drinks. ARTHUR has a goblet of blood, CHARLES orange juice.
ARTHUR
You’re still a better fencer than I, Charles. But you can’t hope to match a vampire for speed. You seem to move like a snail. I can see what you’re going to do before you’ve decided to do it.
CHARLES
Penny wants us to turn.
ARTHUR
Clever girl. You should look after her. Well, cheerio, old man. The sun will be down soon, and I’ve a thirst in me that this pig-stuff won’t slake.
CHARLES watches ARTHUR breeze out. He is breathing heavily, sweating. He touches his cut cheek.*
* * *
ALLEY, WHITECHAPEL. EXT. DUSK.
We are near DRAVOT’s bolt-hole. ARTHUR and HENTZAU, dressed down a bit, loiter. The fog is thickening again.
ARTHUR
We’re a lot alike, Rupert. We depend on the patronage of our elders. You serve Dracula and I’m Ruthven’s man. In the old days, ambitious men in our position could console themselves with the thought that their superiors wouldn’t live forever, but...
HENTZAU
That’s a dangerous line of thought, Arthur.
ARTHUR
Ruthven’s sharp, but a dilettante. He gets bored with power. That thing with Tennyson. It was petty, childish. And Dracula...
HENTZAU
