“Are you, perchance, referring to the body stolen from Munroe’s morgue?” Burnell guessed.
“Blimey,” said a pimply-faced young man standing with three other youths in their own cluster. They’d clearly been eavesdropping and now inserted themselves into the circle. “My uncle owns a plantation in the Caribbean. There are stories of asoucouyant,” he went on. “It’s a demon that disguises itself as an old woman in the day, and at night, it slips out of its human skin and becomes a fireball, invading bedrooms and sucking the blood out of its victims.”
Kendra was reminded of Muldoon’sDearg-due.
“Another reason to avoid the company of old women,” laughed one of his cohorts. His friend gave him a warning nudge, shooting a glance at Lady Maude, still in her chair and now chatting with Goldsten.
“I’m looking for a more scientific explanation,” Kendra said dryly.
Sir Preston shook his head. “There can be no scientific explanation for draining someone completely of their blood supply, madam. At least not in our modern age.”
“No, but using blood as a cure for ailments is not new,” Mr. Beane said, his dark eyes serious. “In ancient Rome, the blood of gladiators who’d been defeated in the Coliseum was used to treat disease. There are tales that the sick would rush the arena to drink the fallen gladiator’s blood while it was still warm.”
Burnell looked amused. “Where did you hear of such barbarism, Mr. Beane?”
The apprentice’s chin jerked up. “The Roman physician Scribonius Largus wrote about the practice. It wasn’t just drinking the blood either. Spectators would dig out and consume the gladiator’s liver, believing it would cure them of any disease with which they were afflicted.”
Dawes nodded. “I read that a couple of centuries ago, a Franciscan apothecary made a jam mixture from blood, which he sold to those wishing to increase their vitality.”
“And there are reports of bystanders consuming the blood of those executed byLa Guillotine,” added another young man. “That wasn’t very long ago.”
“Ignorant peasants,” Burnell snorted.
“It’s been said that King Louis XI and Pope Innocent VIII both were known to consume the blood of young boys to give them back their strength,” said Sir Preston mildly.
“What can you expect from the French and Catholics?” a man named Tyson muttered.
“The Catholic Pope didn’t consume blood like your mythicalsoucouyant, Mr. Tyson,” Dawes argued. “He was given a transfusion while on his deathbed, in the hope that it would rejuvenate him.”
Mr. Tyson’s lip curled. “Not only barbaric, but foolish too.”
Burnell’s mouth thinned. “We are practicing our own barbarism by not allowing scientific exploration when it comes to our life blood. We know so little and are hamstrung in every way from pursuing what could be life-saving knowledge.”
That declaration received vigorous nods and a few frowns. Their group had grown to include everyone in the room, with the exceptions of Goldsten and Lady Maude.
“From my understanding, safeguards were put into place after the disastrous experiments in the seventeen-hundreds,” the Duke said quietly. “King Louis XIV’s physician, Jean-Baptiste Denis, killed a man by giving him a transfusion.”
“Yes, but that was after severalsuccessfultransfusions,” Burnell pointed out. “Denis gave a fifteen-year-old suffering from fever and excessive bloodletting a transfusion of sheep’s blood, and the boy lived. One might even say it saved his life.”
“The French were only replicating what we English were doing at the time,” Dandridge said, taking a sip of his drink. “It was Richard Lower who documented his experimental transfusions with dogs, which eventually led him to give a patient a transfusion of lamb’s blood.”
Kendra stared at the surgeon. “And the patient lived?” she had to ask.
Dandridge nodded. “He did, indeed. He even had another transfusion, with no ill effects.”
Holy shit.
“That’s true, but as Denis continued to experiment, more people died from the procedure,” Munroe interjected. “He was eventually tried for murder when the wife of one of his patients died. He was acquitted, but the French government then banned the practice. The Crown and the Pope followed suit.”
“As if it matters what the Papists do,” Mr. Tyson sniffed.
Dandridge narrowed his eyes at the young man. “It matters when those in power restrict natural philosophy from advancing. Burnell is right. Think of all we have lost! Denis had only just begun to discover that certain bloods ought not be mixed. But why? What makes one person’s blood different from another? How can we ever know without conducting research?”
After listening quietly, Kendra asked, “What about syphilis?”
That stopped the discussion, and everyone turned to look at her.
“What of it?” Burnell finally asked.
