Chapter 2: The Historian's Warning
Dr. Lyra Arkham pushed through the revolving doors of the Gotham City Police Department at exactly 9:47 AM, her arms stacked with leather-bound books and manila folders thick with photocopied manuscripts.
The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, their yellow glare deepening the shadows under her eyes. She hadn't slept since the first news reports three days ago.
The desk sergeant, a fat man with graying temples, barely looked up from his paperwork. "Can I help you, ma'am?"
"I need to speak with Commissioner Gordon immediately," she said, setting her burden down on the counter with a heavy thud that drew stares from several officers. "It's about the murders. You know. The ones with the... the blood loss."
"Lady, half of Gotham wants to talk to the Commissioner about those murders. You got an appointment?"
Dr. Arkham opened the top folder, revealing photographs of medieval woodcuts depicting creatures with elongated fangs looming over sleeping human figures. "Tell him Dr. Lyra Arkham from Gotham University's Department of Medieval Studies is here. Tell him I know what those symbols in the murder mean."
The desk sergeant's expression shifted from boredom to interest as he caught sight of the images. Twenty minutes later, Dr. Arkham found herself in Commissioner Gordon's office, watching the veteran lawman study the same photographs with growing skepticism.
"You're telling me these are vampire symbols," Gordon said flatly, his tone suggesting he was trying very hard to maintain his professional composure while dealing with what he clearly considered a crackpot theory.
"Not just vampire symbols, Commissioner. These specific markings..." She pulled out a magnifying glass and pointed to details in the photographs. "They're associated with a particular bloodline. Romanian nobility from the Carpathian Mountains. The House of Dracul."
Gordon set down the photographs and leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his gray hair. "Dr. Arkham, I appreciate you coming forward, but we're looking for a human perpetrator here. Someone with medical knowledge and matching equipment, maybe a disgruntled healthcare worker or—"
"Commissioner, please." Her voice carried the urgency of someone who knew she sounded insane but couldn't afford to care. "I've spent fifteen years studying medieval European folklore. This method of the blood drainage, the positioning of the bodies, the symbols carved into the concrete—it's all consistent with historical accounts of vampiric feeding rituals dating back to the 15th century."
Gordon's expression remained politely dismissive, but she pressed on, opening another folder containing photocopies of handwritten documents in what appeared to be Latin.
"These are translations of monastery records from Wallachia. They describe identical murders, identical symbols. The monks wrote detailed accounts of—"
"Dr. Arkham," Gordon interrupted, standing up from his desk. "I understand you're trying to help, but the GCPD deals in facts, not folklore. We'll handle this investigation using proven police methods."
She gathered her materials, clearly frustrated but unsurprised by his reaction. "Commissioner, when your proven methods fail—and they will—remember this conversation. The patterns don't lie. Something ancient is stirring in Gotham."
As she reached the door, Gordon's voice softened slightly. "Doctor, I know you mean well, but I can't have you spreading vampire theories to the press. It would cause a panic."
"The panic is coming whether you acknowledge the truth or not," she replied. "I just hope it's not too late when you finally do."
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That evening, Batman received the message through the usual channels—a coded signal transmitted to a secure frequency that only he and a handful of trusted allies knew. The meeting location was specified as Reservoir Park, near the old stone bridge where the shadows were deepest and no surveillance camera could reach.
Dr. Arkham was already waiting when he arrived, her breath visible in the cold night air. She clutched a leather satchel against her chest like a shield, her eyes scanning the darkness nervously until his familiar silhouette emerged from behind a cluster of oak trees.
"You came," she said, relief evident in her voice.
"Your message mentioned the murders. You said you had information the police wouldn't accept." Batman's voice carried its usual commanding authority, but there was something different tonight—a tension that suggested he was taking her claims more seriously than Gordon had.
"Because they think rationally. They believe in evidence and logic and things that make sense in daylight." She opened her satchel and pulled out the same folders she'd shown Gordon earlier. "But these murders aren't rational, Batman. They're ritualistic. They've happened before-centuries ago."
Batman accepted the photographs, studying them under a small UV light from his utility belt. In the purple glow, details became clearer—the precise nature of the wounds, the careful positioning of the victims, the evil looking ancient symbols.
"Romanian," he said.
"House of Dracul, specifically. Vlad III was the most famous, but the bloodline continued long after his death. They developed... techniques for preserving themselves across the centuries." She pulled out a map of medieval Romania, marked with locations where similar murders had been recorded. "The pattern repeats every few decades, always in a new location, always targeting specific types of victims."
"What types?"
"The healthy. The young. Anyone with strong blood." She hesitated, then added, "And those who might pose a threat to whatever is doing this."
Batman handed back the photographs and studied the woman before him. Dr. Arkham was clearly terrified, but her scholarship appeared thorough and her theories, while impossible, aligned with the evidence he'd gathered.
"You believe we're dealing with an actual vampire."
"I believe we're dealing with something that has inspired vampire legends for over five hundred years. Whether it's technically undead or simply extremely old and extremely dangerous... does the distinction matter if people are dying?"
Batman considered this. In a city where he'd faced immortal assassins, plant-human hybrids, and men who could freeze objects with their bare hands, was the existence of vampires really so impossible?
"The symbols at the crime scenes—they form a pattern?"
"A summoning circle. Or more accurately, a claiming ritual." She pulled out a detailed map of Gotham, marked with red X's at the murder locations. "Three points of a triangle, all directed toward the cathedral district. If I'm right, whatever did this is establishing territory and marking boundaries."
Batman studied the map, his analytical mind processing the implications. "St. Bartholomew's Cathedral. I know."
"Abandoned for twenty years. Perfect for something that prefers shadows and solitude." Dr. Arkham's voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "Batman, if even half of what I've researched is true, then Gotham is about to face something that normal methods can't stop. The historical records describe creatures with superhuman strength, the ability to command lesser beings, immunity to most weapons..."
"But not all weapons."
"No. The old methods still work, if you believe the accounts. Blessed silver, holy water, direct sunlight, wooden stakes through the heart." She met his eyes, seeing something there that told her he was genuinely considering her words. "But most importantly, they can be killed. They're not truly immortal, just very, very hard to destroy."
Batman stored the information, filing it alongside everything else he'd learned about Gotham's various threats over the years. "Dr. Arkham, I want you to compile everything you have on historical vampire hunting techniques. Everything. Leave nothing out."
"You believe me?"
"I believe something killed three people in a way that defies normal explanation. Whether that something fits your historical model remains to be seen." He prepared to fade back into the shadows. "But if you're right, Gotham will need every advantage we can get."
"Batman, wait." She reached into her satchel one more time, pulling out an ornate silver cross on a thin chain. "This has been blessed by seven different denominations over the past century. My grandmother claimed it once saved her life in Prague during the war. I... I think you should have it."
Batman accepted the cross, studying the intricate metalwork. It felt warm against his gloved palm, though that could have been his imagination. "Why are you doing this, Doctor? Why risk your reputation, your career?"
"Because three people are dead, and I think it's only the beginning. Because sometimes the impossible is just something we haven't found a way to measure yet." She pulled her coat tighter against the cold. "And because if I'm right and I stayed silent, I'd never forgive myself."
Batman nodded once, a gesture of respect and understanding. As he melted back into the darkness, Dr. Arkham heard his voice one last time, carried on the night wind: "Stay away from the cathedral district after dark, Doctor. And keep that research close. You may be the only person in Gotham who understands what we're really facing."
Alone in the park, Dr. Arkham glanced up at the blood-red moon hanging over the city like an omen. As she walked back toward her car, she couldn't shake the feeling that ancient eyes were watching from the shadows, calculating, measuring, preparing for what was to come. The historical record was clear about what happened to those who interfered with the old bloodlines, but she'd already made her choice.