Lord of the Vampires (15 page)

She did not arise on the eighteenth. Have no fear, Elisabeth said, trying to comfort me. (She has never mentioned my appearance at her ritual; I can only surmise that my invisibility spell was successful, that I was not detected, for she has only been kind to me since.) Dunya is immortal. Who can harm her?

Who, indeed?

This morning I left Elisabeth sleeping and crept in the hour before sunrise to Dunyas quiet chambers. How dark it seemed there, and how melancholy; from outside came the sweet, high song of a solitary lark, but that morning it seemed peculiarly mournful.

I lingered for a moment in the sitting-room where we had encountered Jonathan Harker, Esquire; my fears held me back from proceeding directly into the bedchamber. The couch still stood where the Englishman had placed it in front of the large window. There I stood, gazing out at forest and mountains and fierce ravine as they slowly emerged from darkness into the pale grey light of dawn.

Then I steeled myself and moved into the inner room where Dunya lay inside her closed casket. And in the instant I stepped across that threshold, a startling revelation seized me: Dunya was not here, not here at all! I had always been able to sense her gentle presence, as she was entirely ignorant of magic and the methods of self-protection (this at Vlads insistence).

For a fleeting moment, I felt overcome by the wild hope that Elisabeth had at last empowered her, that she had somehow managed to escape the castle; this was accompanied by an equally wild but vague terrorvague because my mind would not permit the admission of what I feared I might find. Consumed by those two incompatible emotions together, I approached the little casket and flung open the lid.

Bone and dust!

Bone and dust: her small, delicate skull was palest ivory, cleaned of any remnant of eye or skin, though a long, liquefying strand of reddish dark hair stuck to the white satin beneath, from neck to waist. It was as though she had truly died as a mortal those twenty years before, and her corpse left to the elements under a pitiless sun. The skull had fallen off the bones of the neck and stood on the bones of the upper jaw (the lower had collapsed), somewhat perpendicular to the dry yellowed bones of the limbs and torso. Her arms were crossed over the breastbone and ribs as neatly as if she had been arranged for burial, but the leg bones had detached and lay scattered in disarray.

I suppose I screamed; I must have screamed, though how loud and long I cannot say, for all fear fled and I knew only hysterical grief. And as I cried out, my breath stirred the dust in the coffintruly her final resting-place nowcausing it to scatter upward into the air and float like the white-hot ash of burning parchment.

I breathed in that ash, choked on it, wept for it; indeed, I crawled into the coffin and clutched the bones, kissed them, baptised them with my tears.

Sweet servant and friend! Loyal and unquestioning companion! I remember with pain each thoughtless act I ever committed against you, and know that now, I have failed in my obligation to protect you

I did not mourn alone long; in the midst of my sobs, I felt a warm hand touch my shoulder. Above me stood Elisabeth, her own eyes aglisten with tears, her expression one of horrified shock and pity. She was naked, her hair in streaming tangles; apparently she had heard my wailing and hurled herself from bed.

Zsuzsanna, my darling! Her voice was low, softer and more tender than ever I had heard itoh, but I was too full of grief and fury to believe her. My dear, what has
happened
? Oh, this cannotis this poor Dunya? At once she fell to her knees beside the coffin and swore: Damn him!
Damn
him!

I whirled round and sat up at once, filled with an anger pure enough, grand enough, to consume the entire world. I cared not whether I offended her, or Vlad, or the Dark Lord, even if He be the Devil Himself; I cared not if in the next instant I, too, was reduced to a heap of bones and dust. I lashed out, wanting only for her to suffer as I suffered at that moment.

You know it is.
You
are the one who has killed her! I trusted you
trusted you
, but now

A flash of rage on her face, but only a flash; she controlled herself immediately and replied, with an expression of infinite hurt and sadness, Zsuzsa, sweet Zsuzsa, how can you say this to
me
? How can you think that I would ever want to harm your friend and cause you such suffering? You are first in my heart, and I would never betray you This is all Vlads doing!

I would have none of it; all an act, all an act, one I had been foolish to believe. You killed her, as you intend to kill me! I saw you perform the ritual; I saw Dunyas hair, and mine, upon your altar. I saw the Dark Lord

At those last two words, her eyebrows lifted sharply, and her gaze became intense, ferocious, diamond-bright; she had not known. Then slowly, the golden brows lowered; her forehead smoothed and her entire expression grew composed. When at last she spoke, her words were measured and deliberate.

If you saw, then surely you understood the rituals purpose: to protect you and Dunya from harm. My darling, there is much I have not revealed for fear of frightening you. Vlad intends to destroy us all, and it has taken all my reserves of strength and wit simply to protect you. I admit, I have failed you in terms of Dunya, your good servant, whose death has clearly broken your heart. For my mistake has been to put especial protection round her whom I love mostand here she kissed my hand, leaning down so that her hot tears spilled onto my fleshand to leave only a modicum for myself and Dunya.

What could I say to such a confession? I struggled onto my knees, inadvertently cracking dry, brittle bones, and reached for her. Sobbing, we embraced.

Ah, my Zsuzsanna, my Zsuzsa, I am sorry I misled you, but I did so out of concern that you should not be afraid. Vlad is weak, yes, and I am the more powerful except that he has studied magic some two centuries longer than I. His father and grandfather both ascended the throne with the Dark Lords aid, and I believe he has invoked that powerful entity yet again in hopes of defeating us. For he fears us and anything, anyone,, stronger than heand that which he fears, he is bound to destroy. This is how he repays me, who have come to offer him help and you, who remained his loyal companion for fifty years, despite his despicable treatment of you.

So gentle was her gaze, so wounded yet full of compassionate sorrow, that my heart was pierced by a fresh grief, that of the realisation I had hurt her unjustly. I am sorry, I am sorry, I murmured, with renewed weeping, and pressed harder against her warm ivory flesh, against the soft perfumed hair that cascaded like Godivas over her shoulder, breast, and belly. I understand you had invoked the Dark Lord for protection for us all. But you
must
have the same protection I have, for if I rise and find you so destroyedhere I gestured at the pitiful heap of bones beneath meI truly will die of unhappiness. What shall I do to save you? Teach me, and I will bargain with the Devil Himself!

A hint of wryness crept into her expression, and she chided quickly beneath her breath, Do not call Him the Devil, Zsuzsanna; that is so superstitious and mediaeval! Immediately after, she straightened and said more loudly, I will not have you bargaining with Him, dear one. It is too unsafe, even for those of us long practiced in the black arts. He is a treacherous negotiator, and He deals only in lives and afterlives; He would all too quickly possess your soul.

My soul? What would He want with it, if He is not the Devil?

She lowered her eyelids and, in an obvious effort to distract me, said, Come away from those bones, darling it is too gruesome! And she lifted me up by the waist as easily as if I had been a babe, and set me down beside her to brush away dust and bits of crumbled bone from my dressing-gown. Shattered, frightened, I clung to her as she led me out into the hallway and back towards the chamber we had come to share.

But still I contemplated her odd statement about her Master; if He was not the Devil, was He then God? Surely God would not stoop to bargaining for souls! As sorrow had removed all my courteous restraint, I demanded again, Why my soul?

A matter of speech, she said, but her gaze was focussed straight ahead, on her destination, rather than on me; I could not help feeling that she wished desperately to avoid the subject altogether, as if it were too unpleasant even to contemplate. You would be absorbed. Annihilated. Devoured.

Is this what Vlad has done to Dunya? Has her soul been eaten by the Dark One with the loving eyes?

Yet if that is what I felt in His presencethat ecstatic sense of No Thing and All Thingsthen I cannot, as Elisabeth does, fear Him. If that is where Dunya is, then I shall dry my still-streaming tears

And yearn to join her.

Elisabeth will not teach me any of the needed knowledge to contact Him directlyto seek revenge on Vlad, and safe passage for us both from this castle. But I will find Him.

I will find Him

* * *

29 JUNE.

No entry in all this time; grief has caused my strength and inclination to wane. I think often of the dead: my good mother and father, my brothers Arkady and little Stefan, and dear Dunya. Sometimes I even think of all the poor souls whose bodies and bones lie corrupting in this castle and the vast encircling forest. So much death and suffering everywhere I turn! The magnitude of it overwhelms, permeates, my mind and heart _

But so many things have happened that I must record them before the details fade from memory. Tonight, for the first time in months, my mind is directed towards something other than mortalitytowards a distant land I have always yearned to see, but came to think I never would.

A month or so ago,
tsigani
men drove their wagons into the castle courtyard and camped there. It was a warm day, and hotter still for the gypsies, as they had decided to cook their noonday meala kidand so built a large fire and spit and sat round it half-naked, their bare chests and backs exposed and glistening with sweat.

Their presence was resounding evidence (although I had never doubted) that Vlad did indeed mean to desert me here, for when Elisabeth and I tried to signal the groups apparent leader from the windows, the men laughed derisively and ignored usjust as they ignored Mr. Harker, who also cried out from his window. (Obviously, he is just as much a prisoner as we; though certainly ignorant of dealing with gypsies. The fool threw them moneywhich of course they pocketed before turning away.)

Shut him up! Elisabeth ordered, her eyes narrowed in frustration at the smirking ruffians beneath us; like an obedient slave, I hurried at once up to Harkers chambers and entranced him. When I returned, I found Elisabeth a feminine parody of the men; leaning seductively out the unfettered window, her gown and camisole both unfastened and pulled down to the waist, baring her breasts, she sang a patently bawdy song in Romany to the captivated onlookers below. My first reaction was to be slightly jealous at her brazen display in front of those vile, untrustworthy creatures; but the jealousy was swiftly replaced by humour at Elisabeths audacity, and the comically smitten expressions on the gypsy mens faces. This was the first time since Dunyas death that I had been graced by laughter, and that made it all the more powerful: I shut my mouth and bit my tongue in an effort to quell the chuckling that bubbled up within me, but all for naught. The laughter came regardless; thus I stood somewhat back from the window so that I could not be seen, but I could see both Elisabeth and her adoring audience.

Her little performance achieved her intent; the
tsigani
chief immediately ran from his place in front of the campfireshouting an order to the other men to remainand arrived at the castle entrance. This was apparently bolted from the outside, for as we rushed to welcome him in, I heard the scrape of wood against metal, then the hollow clank of a wooden bolt striking stone.

Although we were forced to remain inside, he had no difficulty crossing that threshold; like a lovestruck bull, he flung aside the heavy door and rushed straight for Elisabeth and her bared bosom. He grasped her breasts, one with each hand, and, with alarming disregard for civility, pushed her backward to the cold floor.

To my astonishment, she did not resist (though she could easily have held her ground, causing
him
to fall back as though he had collided with a mountain). No, she fell back, laughing, and when he threw back her skirts and petticoats, she laughed harder still, as if it were all the most amusing sport, and let her bare legs sprawl wide.

He was not an unhandsome manin fact, his shining coal-coloured hair and strong beak of a nose reminded me somewhat of my brotherbut there was a crudeness to his broad face and plump, barrel-chested body, and to his oily olive skin and ridiculously long waxed mustache that I found supremely distasteful.

And when he quickly unfastened his trousers and fell atop her, piercing her, bellowing, still clutching her soft breasts with his thick, inelegant fingers, the whole scene struck me as nauseous, and I turned away, thinking to leave before I was called upon next.

But at that moment, Elisabeth framed the
tsigani%
face with her hands (so white and delicate in contrast to his sun-darkened cheeks) and mightily pulled him down into a kiss. At first he resistedsuch silly feminine desires were clearly not to be indulged, not by a whore who had so blatantly lured him here for one thing, and one thing alone! But I saw, in profile, Elisabeth open her eyes as she pressed her lips passionately to his, and I saw his flutter open in surprise, then slowly grow dull and dreamy as all his volition fled.

Throughout, his desperate thrusting never ceased, for this transpired in the space of a few seconds.

Zsuzsanna! Elisabeth gasped, in the clear unyielding tone that signalled she would accept no refusal.

I stepped back towards her and looked down: her glorious hair had been swept up so that it spilled above her onto the stone, encircling her head like a haloor the pale golden crescent of the half moon. The big
tsigani
still flailed wildly, his face now pressed into the sweetly scented pillow of hair half an arms length above the top of her skull. All the while, she pressed her palms into his chest, easily holding him up. He would have crushed and suffocated a mortal woman.