First Chapter Madness - Crueller
Donuts, vampires, and a secret family recipe
When my publisher asked me to be part of a Donut Shop Series collection of books, I thought she had gone mad. The novellas were mostly romance, but she loved to toss me in there like a rose among thorns. I initially passed, but after asking my wife, “how can I make a crueller creepy?” the idea popped into my head. The story is split into 4 parts, so this is not the whole first chapter, but a decent portion of it.
Chapter One: Blood Origins
Whitechapel, 1891
The cobbled roads of Commercial Street lay quiet. The flickering streetlamps played along the walls of the closed shops, creating a gang of shadow people seeking to gain entry. At the end of the street, the baker’s shop lay as dormant as the rest, although the smell of baking bread breaking through the ever-present stench of horse shit suggested that work was afoot inside.
Around back, Edmund Crueller sat on the floor of his kitchen, propping open the rear delivery door with his body. From a distance, he cut a spectral figure, as a thin layer of flour covered him from head to toe. Every time he raised his hand to take a puff from his rolled cigarette, a little white tornado took flight into the air.
Edmund loved this time of day. The baking for the coming day was all done, and his son William was out with the hand wagon to deliver baked goods to the merchants at Spitalfields market. As soon as the boy returned, Edmund would head upstairs and snuggle up to his beloved wife, Mary. He smiled at the thought of her warm body against his and the sound of his twin girls’ shallow breathing as they slept in the same cramped little space they called home.
The shop and the home above it were humble, but Edmund had big dreams. He was already beginning to earn a reputation as the best baker in London, and while that meant working extra hours to meet the demands of the buying public, it also meant more money that could be squirreled away to pay for a larger shop and a better place for his family to live. Edmund was well aware that he still had a lot of work to do before that dream became a reality, but his father had instilled in him a strong work ethic. It was the same lesson that he was now trying to pass along to William, but the boy was headstrong at times and prone to bouts of laziness.
Edmund knew that expanding the business meant having someone he could trust at his side. He wanted that someone to be William, but the boy did not seem overly keen on putting in the effort. In fairness, the lad was just nineteen years old, an age when the mind tends to drift towards pursuits other than working. With expansion still a year or two away, there was still time to mold the boy into a productive member of society.
Lost in thought, Edmund failed to notice that the cigarette had burned all the way down until the heat scorched his fingers. With a little yelp of pain, he tossed the butt across the alley; the dying ember seeing to wink at him before the tobacco finally burned out and died.
Movement from within the shop caused Edmund to spin around, startled at the sound of unexpected footsteps. Breathing a sigh of relief, he dusted off a layer of flour before opening his arms to welcome his wife.
“You scared me, Mary. Why are you not up in bed?”
“You’re later than usual. I missed you,” Mary pouted.
“I’m sorry, my love. I’m not sure where the hell William is. He should be back by now.”
Before Mary could respond, the sound of police whistles cut through the air, their shrill tone causing the hair on Edmund’s neck to stand on end. He stepped into the alley, telling Mary to hold the door open so that he could have light to see.
“Where is it coming from, Edmund? Is it him?”
“Hush, woman, I can’t tell with you talking,” Edmund snapped. Seeing the look on his wife’s face, he crumbled a little inside. “I’m sorry, love, it’s just that William is still out there.”
“That madman kills women. He’ll be okay. Tell me he’ll be okay, Edmund.”
Stepping back inside the shop, Edmund held his wife close. He could feel her heart fluttering like a caged bird, so he pulled her closer, whispering soft words and stroking her golden hair. They stayed that way until Mary’s heart resumed it’s regular speed and the sound of the whistles stopped. With that commotion gone, Edmund’s ears became more attuned to the familiar sounds of his space, sounds that included the wooden wheels of the hand cart rumbling across the cobbled streets of the alley.
“Come on, Mary. That’s our boy,” Edmund said, dragging his wife by the hand and out into the alley.
They could barely make out a figure at the end of the street, the small amount of light allowed by the now propped open door doing little to cut through the gloom. They saw enough, though, to let them know that the man pulling the cart was not their son. Where William was short and stocky, this figure was tall and lean; a top hat, cocked to one side, adding more height to his already imposing silhouette.
“Who is that, Edmund?”
“Get back inside. NOW!”
Mary paused for a moment, determined to see if William was with the stranger, but as other figures emerged from the darkness, she scampered back inside the shop. Edmund watched her go, motioning for her to stay in her current position once she was safely inside. “You shut that door if this goes bad, Mary. Promise me you will,” he said.
His wife nodded, fear carved into her delicate features. Turning back to the approaching group, Edmund could now see that four people were walking behind the cart. He could also see that something more substantial than loaves of bread was sitting on top.
“Mr. Crueller,” the stranger yelled. “Are you ready to do some business?”