"While Tesla and Edison continue their triumph with newly invented electrical devices all over Europe, the staff of London Hospital still utilizes the older techniques of candles and gas lights in the lesser used areas." He said this as more of a disappointed afterthought than an explanation. 
Lucy was incredulous. "The morgue is among the lesser used?"
"Much to my dismay," Dr. Reed confirmed with a tip of his head. "I think it necessary to move with time, but not everyone shares my opinions. The morgue is really only used as cadaver storage. Between you and I, very few autopsies are performed these days. There are too many deaths, and too many living patients in need of care. Illness takes precedence over cause of death. Even in the case of an epidemic. Or forces that we do not understand."
Mouth set in a grim line, he motioned above them, indicating the fog.
"Let me light a few more lamps, then we'll see about gathering your supplies."
Lucy tilted her chin in silent agreement. As Dr. Reed's efforts filled the crude mausoleum with flickering light, she glanced around to its cold, hidden corners. If ever there existed a place that could steal the hope of a life after death, this was it. A room where the dead awaited their bleak fate.
Her sensitive eyes roamed over the lifeless masses covered in white sheets. Bodies. No longer human. No longer anything. Dead, and soon to be incinerated. Or buried.
Like Arthur.
Closing her eyes against the corpses surrounding her, Lucy put her palm to her forehead. She let out a shaky breath.
"Are you alright?"
She opened her eyes to find Dr. Reed standing next to her, his brow creased in concern.
"Yes," she fibbed. "Fine."
She tried to smile, but her attempt failed to be convincing.
Dr. Reed arched a skeptical eyebrow.
"It's only that— Well, coming down here with you...seeing them..." She paused, motioning to the cadavers. "I'm reminded of Arthur."
"Who is Arthur?"
"My fiancé."
Dr. Reed gave a remorseful nod. "The one who died by the hands of a vampire."
"Yes."
"The vampire that turned you."
"Yes," she affirmed. "Arthur died trying to protect me."
She felt the weight of Dr. Reed's unwavering stare and plucked at the hem of her sleeve.
"Did you love him?"
"Did I—?"
Taken aback by the bluntness of his question, Lucy turned away in an effort to compose herself. Why would he ask such a thing?
And why was it difficult to answer? 
When at last she spoke, her timbre was wistful.
"Arthur was my dearest friend," she said, thinking back over their many years and escapades together. "We met when we were toddlers — our families were close because of their blue blood and their business correlations. My family was in art and antiques, his in imports. It was always assumed we would one day be married."
"The story of many aristocratic families, to be sure," Dr. Reed said. "But you have not answered my question."
She hadn't. But whether or not she had been elusive on purpose, she didn't know. Seconds passed as Lucy studied the doctor. She considered his inquiry, as well as her response. It was a truth she had never spoken aloud.
"I was not in love with him," she confessed. "Nor he with me. But, yes, I loved him. Very much. When with him, I was my best self."
Dr. Reed contemplated this in silence, the ghost of a smile appearing on his lips. Perhaps he was appreciative of her sincerity. Perhaps it was something more.
"May I ask what happened that night?"
Lucy regarded him in surprise. She assumed he was only asking for the sake of diplomacy, but his intense and focused demeanor suggested his interest was genuine. He leaned against an empty examination table and set the gas lamp down upon its metal surface.
"Do you ask in earnest?" she queried. 
"I do," he said. "Please, tell me."
Lucy had never spoken about that night. The only people privy to her recent nocturnal transformation already knew what had happened. And it hurt. Even the simple act of thinking on it hurt.
Yet, she found she wanted to tell someone. Someone who would understand. Someone who likely had a similar gruesome tale. Her fortuitous meeting with one of her own kind could be no coincidence. Fate. That was the word.
Perhaps Dr. Reed was the one with whom she was meant to share her story.
Perhaps she needed to speak of it. For Arthur. For herself.
Her hesitation only lasting a moment, Lucy began her tale.
༺ • ༒ • ༻
ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ!
ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ VOTE! ☆