Diaries of the Family Dracul - The Covenant with the Vampire Part 20

I did not linger, but went back inside the castle, located the pain-relieving herb Dunya had requested, and delivered it into her hands.

Mary's torment is constant now; surely the child will be born soon. I can no longer bear to wait, writing and listening to her suffering.

I must take action.

Chapter 14.

The Diary of Arkady Dracul Date unknown.

Night. Eternity has pa.s.sed since last I wrote in this journal; but let me begin at the moment I left off.

Mary's cries grew so desperate that I ran into the room to comfort her, dropping the diary upon the night-table beside the bed. When they subsided I did not remain, but took my place again in the hallway, waiting until I was certain both women were too distracted to notice my departure; and then I slipped silently down the dark, claustrophobic corridor, past the stone entry, back into V."s outer chamber, which housed the throne and the theatre of death.I had already pa.s.sed through the room twice that morning, each time hurriedly, with eyes averted. This time, I entered and carefully noted my surroundings.

The air seemed stale, lifeless, heavy with death and the sorrows endured there. To my left, the great throne sat unoccupied; before me, the velvet curtain was still pulled back to reveal the strappado and other implements of torture. The cleaver which Laszlo had hurled had been carefully replaced in the carving-block with the other tools of the butcher's trade.

I walked behind the table on which Herr Mueller had lain and pulled the largest, thickest blade from the block, then chose a short, sharpened stake and the heavy mallet. Thus armed, I headed for the innermost sanctum. That door stood slightly ajar as well. I nudged it with the toe of my boot, and heard it swing open with a groan like that of a dying man.

I was surprised that V. trusted me enough to leave the door unbarred; I thought of Zsuzsa speaking indignantly of his arrogance. He had let her glimpse his heartlessness, yet his egotism could not permit him to believe she would not still adore him. Was he so foolishly sure of my love, as well, that he feared no betrayal?

I entered. Again, the smell of dust and faint decay. I moved immediately to the larger of the two caskets, set Laszlo's knife silently on the floor, and, with stake and mallet in one hand, opened the coffin's lid with the other.

It lifted easily, without resistance, and in the instant it rose, my heart momentarily ceased its beating in response to the purest, coldest wave of fear I have ever known. Yet it was oddly exhilarating, like standing in the breaking waves of an arctic sea, and I knew in that instant I would not shrink from my task.

I pushed the lid fully back, and peered in the dimness at the scarlet lining, worn and showing the clear impressions made over countless years by the weight of head and torso upon the fabric.

Empty.

A man's distant voice, unfamiliar and oddly accented, broke the stillness.

"Hallo-o-o!"

The sound so startled me the mallet and stake dropped from my hand and clattered against stone. My heart pounded furiously; had Zsuzsanna regretted her confession, and, realising that she and V. might soon be destroyed, gone at once to warn him?

I hurried into the outer chamber, scarcely seeing the unveiled theatre of death.

"Hallo-o-o!"

The call grew louder, more insistent; with a start, I realised it echoed off the interior walls of the level below. A stranger had entered the castle.

I directed an agonised glance at the entryway that led to my wife's genteel prison, from which her cries issued unceasing. I had no desire to leave her in Dunya"s untrustworthy company, especially now that I was uncertain of V."s whereabouts; nor could I ignore the stranger's summons-for I knew, with unhappy certainty, who called.

I hurried from the chamber and dashed down the spiraling staircase. Near the main entryway, I chanced upon the stranger, who had just begun to climb the stairs. We stopped several steps apart, I above and he below, to study each other.

He was a tall, heavy-set bespectacled man with fair, thinning hair, a florid complexion that showed beneath his goatee and moustache, and light-coloured eyes. From his dress I took him to be well educated and from the upper cla.s.ses; from his demeanour, I took him to be thoughtful and steady. At the sight of me, he recoiled, almost losing his balance on the stairs-then recovered with a nervous smile and said, in strangely accented German: "Forgive me for arriving unannounced, but I have my own carriage and wished to arrive as soon as possible."

For a moment, my wits left me; I did not speak. My expression must have alarmed him, for he asked hesitantly, "This is the castle of the prince, Vlad Dracula, yes?"

"Yes," I said, when at last my mind returned. "Yes, it is, but you must leave swiftly, sir-at once!"

His pale eyebrows met in a furrow above his spectacles as he gazed up at me; with mild indignance, he straightened. "But I am Erwin Kohl, his invited guest! Surely he must have spoken to someone of my arrival-"

"Indeed, sir," I replied, more cordially as I regained my poise. "And we are sorry that no one was able to meet you at Bistritz, for the very reason you must now leave: There is illness in the castle. Terrible illness."

Still frowning, Kohl narrowed his eyes and tilted his head as he scrutinised my face; I knew at once from the kind intelligence in his eyes and expression that this was a man of keen perception.

I also knew that he sensed I was lying.

He lifted an eyebrow; beneath his disbelief, I saw a glimmer of concern. "Who is ill? Perhaps I can help..."

"Everyone," I said, descending a step towards him, "except myself."

"It might explain the absence of servants," he whispered to himself, then said aloud to me, "And the prince... He is ill, too?"

"The prince is most afflicted of all." I advanced another step closer; my tone grew strident.

"Sir, many have died! For your own safety, I must ask you to leave at once!"

I uttered those words with genuine panic and frustration, for I meant them utterly, and I believe he knew it. He should have reacted with fear and departed with alacrity, but to my dismay, he straightened and stood his ground, then set his jaw, tilted his chin slightly upwards, and in those subtle, stubborn gestures, I saw my defeat.

He was determined to remain-for a reason I could not fathom.

"It does not matter. Let me see the prince." His voice was velvet over stone: soft on the surface, flint-hard beneath.

"No. You must leave now." I quickly descended the remaining steps towards him and took him by the shoulders, thinking to turn him around and lead him down the staircase and out the castle. But he was a larger man than I, and resisted. We scuffled clumsily, halfheartedly -both of us clearly neither men of violence-with the outcome that he stood two steps above me, holding a pistol in his steady hand.

"Take me to the prince," he said again, and aimed the weapon carefully at my forehead.

I gazed up into his eyes. They were pale blue, rational, the eyes of a compa.s.sionate man. I did not judge him capable of cruelty; yet he seemed to have reached a level of desperation that matched my own.

I sat down on the step, put my elbows on my knees and my hands to my eyes and laughed until tears came, thinking, Now he will shoot me, and the covenant will be broken and my family saved.

The alleged Mister Kohl did not fire, but stood quietly in the face of my hysterical mirth, perhaps as surprised by my reaction as I had been by his.

I glanced up and demanded with faint irritation, "Well, kill me then, and be done with it." I fell silent, then, realising that urging my own death might const.i.tute suicide, and fulfill Vlad"s pact.

With a quizzical expression, the stranger asked, "Who are you?"

"Arkady Tsepesh, his great-nephew." I laughed again, a sharp, humourless bark. "Or rather, his great-great-great-great-grandson, many more times removed."

"You must take me to him."

Once more, I tried to laugh; it emerged a sob. "Would that I could; he has hidden himself." I lowered my voice to an urgent whisper. "He is a murderer- worse than a murderer. That is why you must leave at once! Please... I beg you! Go! You are not safe!"

Behind his spectacles, Kohl's eyes widened with amazement; that emotion soon gave way to trust. Yet he remained, stubborn and immovable upon the stairs, with the revolver still pointed at my head. "I believe you," he said calmly. "And I have no wish to harm you. But I must insist-"

"Domnule! Domnule!"

Dunya hurried shrieking down the stairs, dark hair streaming from beneath her scarf, bright red smeared upon her linen ap.r.o.n. So agitated was she that she failed to react to the odd tableau of Kohl standing with pistol aimed at me as I crouched two steps below. In German, the language she shared with her mistress and had no doubt been speaking all the past night and morning, she cried, "Come and help! The child is turned and I cannot move it! She is bleeding-! I am afraid they both will die!"

The tears and panic in her eyes were genuine. Without a thought for the gun barrel pointed at my forehead, I rose and pushed my way past Kohl; V. and all the demons of h.e.l.l could not have held me. Dunya and I ran up the stairs, through the inner chamber, back to the elegant prison, to Mary's side.

The bed linens were stained crimson, and my wife swooning and so frightfully pale I deemed her dead until she stirred and groaned. I sank to my knees beside her and took her cold hand. She was in such blind misery that she did not recognise me, and I was in such misery of my own-helpless as I looked upon my grey-lipped wife-I gave no thought to the stranger, did not realise that he had followed, until I heard his voice behind me saying to Dunya: "Keep her warm, and press there. I shall return at once."

Even then, I listened to his words but did not truly hear them. Dunya unquestioningly obeyed the stranger's orders, sobbing softly as, for the first time in my life, I prayed. I am not sure whether I prayed to Mary, my father, or G.o.d, or some abstract Good; but I know that the utter desperation of my heart rent the veil between this world and the world unseen, and allowed me to reach through and touch the hem of Something-a force -very real, very alive.I offered my life, my soul, if only my wife might survive at this moment, if only my child might be spared his father's fate. I prayed there might be Good in the world, that It might be strong enough to conquer the Evil that had ruled my family; I prayed the blood legacy might end with me.

So absorbed was my soul in its pet.i.tion that I never noticed the stranger's departure or return. I only know that at last a large, looming shadow fell over Mary's pale face; I glanced up, fearing V... and instead saw the stranger, standing like a great blond bear at the foot of the bed, his jacket gone, his shirtsleeves rolled above his elbows. Dunya had kept candles burning in the windowless room; tiny flames danced, reflected in his spectacles.

"I did not mention in my letter I am a physician," said he, setting a large black doctor's bag upon the bed. "I can perhaps help." He bent low, and with a discreet manipulation of the sheets, examined my wife by touch. "So. It is true, the babe is turned. But we shall right him..."

He set to work. It happened soon after: Mary's piercing cry, followed swiftly by the child's, and then the stranger held up in his huge hands my slick and bloodied child.

"A son," he announced, and we grinned at each other with unrestrained delight, as though we were not strangers, but old, dear friends sharing in this joy; as though he had not minutes before held a pistol to my skull.

My son. My tiny, angry, wailing son.

My wife fell at once asleep while her unexpected physician tended her. I sank into a nearby chair and wept at the beauty and horror of the event.

When the stranger had finished and washed his hands in a basin, he turned towards me, wiping his hands upon a towel, and said in a low voice, "The child is small, but healthy. He is early, no?"

I nodded, and drew a shaking hand across my eyes.

"No doubt the mother has suffered some recent shock."

I shot a dark glance at Dunya, who had finished bathing the child and now wrapped him tightly in blankets, for I wished to be able to speak freely to this stranger, but dared not in her presence. The doctor saw, and seemed to detect my reluctance, though he smiled at Dunya as she handed the clean child over to him.

I nodded quickly, so that Dunya did not notice.

He tucked the child into my dozing wife's arm and said softly, "She is young and strong, but she has lost a dangerous amount of blood. She will need a great deal of care.

Mary stirred then, and found the baby in her arms; and the smile she graced us both with at that moment shall remain my sweetest memory. "His name," she whispered to me.

"What shall be his name?"

"Stefan," I replied. "For my brother."

"Stefan George." She said it slowly, savouring the sound.

"A handsome name," the doctor added, beaming. Mary started weakly at the sight of a stranger; but I started at his words, for the three of us had just conversed in my wife's native tongue."You speak English," I said.

"Yes. There is something you wish to say that you do not want the girl to hear?" Still smiling, he nodded at the child as if he had just paid the proud parents a compliment.

I gazed down at my red, wrinkled, beautiful son. "She is in league with the prince; he will know, now, that you are here. Your life is in great danger. You must leave at once-"

"And what of you and your family?" The stranger leaned over the child and proffered a large thick finger, which little Stefan gripped fiercely. "It would be unwise for your wife to travel. But this place... I have seen what horrors lie in the room that leads here. You seem kindly people. Am I to abandon you here?"

I knew at that moment my prayer had been answered in the form of this man, who had saved my wife and might now save my son.

I looked at him with hope. "Perhaps you can help." I stood and walked towards the doorway, leaving Mary with the child. I had no desire to dim her happiness at that moment.

Kohl seemed to understand; he smiled at my wife, and said in German, "The boy is no doubt hungry, madam. Let me allow you a few moments' privacy to feed him."

He followed me into the hallway and drew the door closed behind him.

I said in a low voice in English, "Why are you here?"

The stranger hesitated; his expression revealed that trust warred with suspicion. "First: I must know why you are here. What leads a man to the home of a murderer, even if he be kin?"

"We are his prisoners," I said, with no attempt to hide my misery. "As you will be, if you do not leave. He has threatened my wife and child, hoping I will be broken and a.s.sist him in evil." I raised a shaking hand to my eyes, blotting out the sight of the stranger; wishing I could blot out the memory of what I had just revealed.

The stranger sighed deeply and said, "My father visited this same castle twenty-five years before."

I lowered my hands and met his gaze. "And disappeared."

Grief flickered in his eyes before he looked away. "Without a trace," he said grimly. "I was of course but a boy at the time. The last letter we received from him was postmarked from Bistritz, the day before he was to visit your great-uncle. For years, my family attempted to reconstruct what befell him-but we were thwarted at every turn. No one would help us; neither the police in Bistritz, nor local government. We spent an enormous amount of money on solicitors, even a private detective, attempting to track him down. The lawyers were unsuccessful; and the detective himself disappeared and was not heard from again.

"At last my poor mother surrendered, and gave up hope, for it was clear that he had been the victim of foul play and that some sort of conspiracy surrounded his disappearance. I, too, gave up searching-until dreams of my father pleading for help so disturbed me I could no longer ignore them. I have vowed to avenge him. And so, in desperation, I journeyed here, and have learned much from kind-hearted locals. I have heard many, many stories, some quite fantastic; but all indicate that your uncle is a murderer many times over. I have no doubt but that my poor father was one of his victims."

"All the stories are true," I said grimly. "Even the most fantastic of them..." Kohl released a startled laugh. "Certainly not! They say..." He lowered his voice. "They say he is a vampire. A drinker of men's blood. You seem an educated, intelligent man. Surely you do not-"

"Her neck," I told him. "Examine the girl's neck."

"You are joking," he said, with less conviction, and gave a smile that faded slowly as he examined my face. "It is impossible."

"Yes, impossible... and true."

I said nothing more; merely stood in silence until, at last, Kohl turned and knocked upon the door, waiting until Dunya called that it was safe for him to enter.

I watched in the open doorway as he again examined my wife and child, speaking cheerfully to both of them in German; his gaze fell upon the papers, covered with my scrawl, which lay on the table beside my reclining wife. Perhaps he saw something disturbing there, for his expression darkened briefly. And then he smiled again, and turned to Dunya, saying: "Young miss, you seem very drawn! Are you sure you are not ill?"

She blushed and stammered, "No, I am simply tired," but he waved away her response and insisted she open her mouth, that he might look at her throat, "For there has been an outbreak of diphtheria in the region." Deftly, he touched the glands in her neck, managing to lower the collar enough to see the incriminating marks.

"Good, good," he murmured, with a composed expression, but his spine stiffened slightly in reaction.

I stepped into the doorway and said for Dunya's benefit, "Herr Kohl, let me show you the guest quarters, and a.s.sist you with your luggage. No doubt you will wish to rest."

"Ah." He turned, his pale eyes still bright with astonishment, and followed me out into the corridor. When we were a far enough distance not to be heard, he said, "It is not conclusive.

The marks might have been made by an animal..."

I held my tongue and led him into the great outer chamber, past the throne. He beheld it all with wide eyes, shaking his head in disbelief.

"I saw it before, when I followed you to your wife, though I scarce could believe my eyes,"