Lord of the Vampires (21 page)

She clicked her tongue in disapproval. But what fun is that, Zsuzsanna? If Van Helsing dies, Vlad merely crumbles to dust. No, we must use Van Helsing to draw him to us. I, for one, intend to witness both their deaths, and to inflict as much suffering upon them as they have upon you!

Very well, I agreedthough I was secretly determined to kill him anyway. When shall we leave?

Not both of us, my pet. You go; you alone know Van Helsing and his house. I know Vlad, and so I will wait here for him; someone must check his houses every day.

The idea of leaving her alone gnawed at me. From Dunya, I knew that she was capable of infidelity; even more distressing was the thought of the torture-chamber beneath the house. Was her irritation due to her eagerness to test it? She had sworn to me that she would not, that she merely collected such horrific devices for amusement; and certainly, I had yet to find them used.

Still, I did not trust her.

Trust or no, logic won out. Within a day, I found myself standing at Van Helsings door. I did not disguise myself, merely wore a hat with a bit of a veil, so that if he peered out, he would not immediately recognise me. All I needed was for him to open the door a crackno more and I would easily strike a killing blow.

I rang, and a full minute later, the door swung open;

the woman who answered was steel-haired and square of jaw.
Mary
? I almost asked, but this could not be she; this woman was far too heavy and tall. For an instant, confusion reigned: Had I come to the wrong house? Or had the Van Helsings moved?

No; this was the house, and the brass nameplate on the door proclaimed A. VAN HELSING, M.D., with a phrase in Dutch I could not decipher.

I am looking for Dr. Van Helsing, I said tentatively in English; the woman frowned sternly at me and shook her head. I then translated the phrase into French, without success; but my German evoked a warm smile.

Ah, she said, with a native accent and obvious relish to hear her own tongue spoken, your German is excellent! But I am afraid the doctor is not taking appointments at this time. And she pointed to the brass plate above the bell, then laughed at herself. But of course, you do not speak Dutch!

I smiled prettily and drew back my veil a bit to expose her to both my beauty and entrancing eyes. I am not a patient, but a relative, here to visit.

She clicked her tongue. Ah, poor dear! I hope you have not come a long way

From Vienna. I knew before she told me that the professor was not here; my heart sank at the realisation.

He has goneshe paused, and seemed to catch herself. I tried my best to put her in a trance, but she kept glancing away uncooperatively. This was a very willful woman abroad.

I did not hide my bitter disappointment. May I ask where?

She averted her eyeslying, of course. Many places. I do not have an itinerary. And then when she glanced back at me, I detected a sudden spark of suspicion in her gaze. You are a relative? How so?

His sister-in-law.

Her eyes narrowed. I have lived in Amsterdam many years, and have known of the doctor for some time. He has no siblings.

I sighed in honest frustration, deciding that if she did not let me in within a matter of seconds, I would break her thick neck. I know it sounds strangebut I am actually his mothers sister-in-law. You see, Marys brother was much younger than she, and

The ice melted away, leaving her with a more welcoming but oddly tragic expression. Ah, poor Mary

I feigned alarmed interest. Has she died? Bram is such a dreadful correspondent; he never tells me anything. I wrote him weeks ago telling him I was coming, but he never replied

My poor dear! How dreadful for you to learn this way. No, poor Mrs. Van HelsingMadam Mary, as I call heris not dead. But I am afraid she is not far from it. She is mortally ill with a cancer.

I put my lacy-gloved hand to my mouth and gasped in horror. So she is here?

Yes, yes, would you like to see her?

I kept my lips covered an instant longer, lest she should see them curve slightly upward in a smile. Very much. I am sad to miss Bram, but

But I could learn a great deal from his mother, who was no doubt privy to where he had gone. This nurse was clearly operating under basic orders, and probably had no idea of our beloved Brams true vocation.

So she swung the door open and let me inside, where she squeezed my hand with Germanic force, and vigorously pumped it while introducing herself as Frau Koehler.

The shadowed foyer was lined with bookshelves, all filled beyond capacity, some tomes lying atop rows of other volumes. The good Frau led me back through another dusty, book-lined room to the staircase, where she hesitated.

Let me go and tell Madam Mary you are here. She blinked at me for a moment before I realised she was awaiting a response from me.

Tell herI paused, searching my memory for my sister-in-laws maiden nametell her Mrs. Windham has come to visit.

Frau Koehler nodded, then lifted her skirts and climbed heavily up the groaning stairs. I heard her move across the creaking wooden floor, then pause to murmur a soft question to her charge.

But I detected no reply. As I waited, I espied between all the shelves a closed door, and felt inexplicably drawn. I slipped through the crack and found myself in the good doctors study, surrounded by more booksthese all esoteric in nature. Our brave vampire-killer, it seemed, had made an extensive study of magic in order to better accomplish his work. There was also a large oaken desk, with a number of papers and telegrams in the cubicles; I longed to look through them all to gain some clue as to Van Helsings whereabouts, but above my head came more creaks, and the fraus heavy footfall.

I immediately slipped through the door again and by the time she smiled down from the top of the stairs, I was in the exact spot she had left me.

Madam Mary is awake and will see you. Whilst I dashed up the stairs to join her, she added: I cannot promise you that she will entirely understand who you are. She speaks little, and when she does, she is generally confused; I gave her an injection of morphia for the pain not long ago, so she is sleepy as well. Be patient.

I shall, I answered warmly, though at the moment I was thinking of Mary not at all, but rather how I might convince Frau Koehler to leave. I was quite sated from the night before, to the point that the thought of dining upon her stalwart German blood made me queasy. So I was not inclined to use supernatural force upon the Frau; one quick drink from Mary, that was all I could manage, and then I would be gone.

My cavalier attitude vanished once I stepped into the room and was greeted by the duelling smells of piss and foul shit. Frau Koehler had done what she could to minimise it: the window was open, a candle flickered in the slight breeze, and a bedpan soaked in a tub full of soapy water.

It was all I could do to keep from covering my nose with my kerchief; but Frau Koehler seemed to notice it not at all. She stepped over to the bed, smiled with genuine affection, and took her patients thin, limp hand. Mary. Here is your sister.

I moved forward to take the German nurses place, and clasped the dying womans cold, bony hand. Her eyes had been closed, but at the sound of Koehlers voice, they fluttered open and gazed upon me. I was prepared at once to put a glamour upon her, and make her see an entirely different woman, so that she would not cry out in fear and alert the nurse

Oh, Mary! When last I saw you, you were strong and young and beautiful, with shining gold hair and smooth skin, and your little son Bram in your belly. I loved you then; loved you even after my Change, for you had been so good to me in my life. I have come to realise that you and Kasha and Papa were the only ones who truly ever loved
me
me, the homely cripple, the spindly spinster who evoked from men nothing but pity.

Now you are struck down by cruel Time. I have killed many in my strange existence, and stared often into the eyes of Death Herself; but I had never before seen Her linger so long.

This would be me
, I thought,
had I not received the gift of immortality. An unlovely old woman, dying
. I looked upon the crone in the bed and did not recognise her, she with her coarse white hair knitted into a long braid that lay from shoulder to waist; the hair on the scalp, however, was broken off in places and had come partially undone, giving her a wild, unkempt air. The image came to me of a delicate bird perishing from starvation. Her smooth skin was sallow, sunken skeletally at the cheeks, pinched at the nose, and lined with wrinkles, especially beneath the eyeseyes still blue as the sea, though the whites were jaundiced.

Eyes dulled by pain and suffering, eyes that recognised me.

I intended to silence her before Frau Koehler was alerted, to put her under my spell so that she would forget that she knew me, so that she would see another woman altogether. But I was too stricken by the sight of her to react immediately, and too distracted as the nurse slid a rocking-chair bedside and bade me sit.

I sat, and cast my gaze again upon the old woman who had once been Mary, ready to do my supernatural work. But those blue eyesthey looked back at me not with fear, not with hatred or revulsion, but such honest warm affection that tears of gratitude stung my eyes. This was not the fleeting love evoked by sexual passion or mutual need or convenience; this was love for its own sake.

Mary? I asked softly, and to my utter surprise, tears fell hot onto my cheeksI, a hundred, a thousand times a murderess, so callous that I thought I would never know untainted compassion again. Do you really know me? It is j__

Zsuzsanna, she breathed, in a trembling, reedy voice that broke my heart; never for an instant did the sweetness in her gaze waver. How beautiful you are

I lowered my face into my lace-covered hands and wept. She was adrift in the past and remembered only the mortal Zsuzsanna, I realised, and had forgotten my Change; even so, I was touched by her welcome. But I had another reason for allowing myself the outburst. Pathos aside, I was compelled to achieve my objective: knowledge of Bram.

Frau Koehler stepped up behind me and laid a broad hand upon my shoulder. My dear I know how difficult this must be for you, she murmured. May I bring you a glass of sherry?

I lifted my head and wiped away the tears with my kerchief. Thank you. But may I have a cup of tea instead? That would allow me the time I needed.

The Fraus swift acquiescence cheered me at once; she departed down the stairs for the kitchen, while I leaned closer to Mary and took her hand in both of mine.

My darling, I whispered. I cannot bear to see you suffer so. But I can take all your pain awayforever.

I moved forward and down, and pressed my lips against the soft, loose folds at her neck; the ammonia-sharp odour of urine was overwhelming there, as were the strong sensations of Marys goodness, her fear of dying, her sincere love for those who had gone before her and those who would be left behind. Deaths approach had stripped away all else, until only the essence of the woman remained.

But something held me back. Perhaps it was the knowledge of the woman she had been, or the powerful sense of goodness and tragic suffering emanating from her;

I knew that the true Mary would rather die than turn to evil.

Indeed, she drew her hand from mine and, with heartrending weakness, put her palms against my shoulders and tried in vain to push me away. Please, no I have lost two sons and a husband. Is that not enough? She said it dreamily, calmly, without a trace of fear.

I drew back. Mary do you
want
to suffer? Do you
want
to die?

She held my gaze directly; at the same time, she seemed to look past me, at something far distant and glorious, and her wizened face took on a radiant, wasted beauty. My suffering is nothing compared to yours, she whispered. Mine will not last forever.

I fell back into the chair, stricken by a pain sharp as a needle piercing my melting heart. I tried to protest: How could she say that
I
suffered? I who enjoy the best life offers, I who endure no physical pain, I who inflict suffering and death upon others?

But I could not deny it. In a flash, I saw my current existence as she would see it: the prettiest clothes, the finest champagne, the handsomest men, the beautiful and cruel Elisabeth. The vanity, the hollowness. Century after century without meaning.

I rose and again took her hands, massaging them a bit to warm them. This time when I bent over her, I gently pressed my lips to hers. God bless you, Mary.

And may He bless you. She sighed, and closed her eyes.

I heard downstairs the rattling of china upon a tray, and muted steps; Frau Koehler was returning with the tea. I settled into the rocking chair and waited, trying to determine the best way to return to the study, when Mary herself provided the answer.

Abruptly, she emitted a howl of pain, with the unbearable abandon of a wounded animal; I admit, I jumped a bit in the chair (and it is not an easy thing to startle a vampire). Again and again she cried out, and I called to her to ask what was the matter, but she seemed quite unaware of my presence. I felt enormous helplessnessand embarrassment when she suddenly clutched the blanket between her legs.

Frau Koehler! I cried, as the nurse thundered and rattled up the stairs; she appeared red-faced and gasping, and at once thrust the tea-tray upon a low armoire and went to the bedside of her charge.

Ah, she said, relieved. It is merely time for the bedpan again. I shall help her, madam. If you like, you may take your cup of tea and sit downstairs, where the noise will not disturb you.

The noise?

It is all painful for her now; she drinks so little that it burns like fire, especially with her open bedsores. But I will help her feel better. Off with you, madam.

So this is a lingering death: piss and shit and helpless pain, the crudest indignity.

She moved towards the soapy bedpan in the basin, and I made good my escape before I saw anything more. Abandoning the tea, I sailed down the stairs and again slipped through the door to the doctors study. With immortal speed, I riffled through the papers on his deskto little avail, for almost all of them were in Dutch and quite incomprehensible.