Part 13 (1/2)

So we check the asylum almost daily, and. we keep searching the city... And each day, I grow more restless.

Yesterday evening I could wait for action no longer; so, some hours after the sun had set, I went out into the foggy night alone whilst Elisabeth took her rest. She and I are getting along together well enough on the surface, but I still possess a great deal of wariness around her, as she does around me. She scrutinises me for signs of disbelief or disaffection (which I have in abundance, but try hard to mask); upon finding them, she reacts not with anger but with great concern and sweetness. It is as if she is courting me anew, for she showers me with presents. Yesterday, she indulged my penchant for dogs and birds (she cannot abide either) by presenting me with a full-grown white Afghan with a diamond collar, and a great white c.o.c.katoo with a diamond bracelet round its ankle (to elegantly chain it to its perch).

The dog and bird are sweet enough and I adore them, but my presence terrifies them; so I keep them closeted in the sitting-room, and let the young downstairs maid give them the affection they deserve. In the meantime, Elisabeth showers me with white roses, precious jewelry, outrageous and exquisite ball gowns, and promises of social engagements. More delightful things, and, oh, how they bore me!

So last night when I slipped out into damp darkness softened by fog, I felt a sense of relief to be free of Elisabeth and all my beautiful gifts, to at last be doing something of worth. I sailed upon moonbeams across the city some twenty miles to the east, where Purfleet lay upon the north bank of the Thames.

I returned straight to the cheerless gloom of Carfax. No light emanated from behind the filth-encrusted windows-only the ominous, glittering blue-black mist, darker than the night.

This disappointed me, as I had expected him to go out hunting the very instant the sun slipped beneath the horizon; why would he linger in that vile and dusty prison when there were thousands upon thousands of warm, red-cheeked souls awaiting him in the city; when, for the first time in centuries, he could feed to his heart's content?

Alas, my plan had been to search the premises during his absence for the mysterious white parchment. Instinct said its discovery would lead to the truth that neither Elisabeth nor Vlad would reveal, and perhaps even to my own liberation.

Fuming, I retreated at once to the property's edge. Now that I was sensitised to it, I could see the deadly aura's faint glow even from that distance; and I was tempted to keep my distance, for I knew that this time, Vlad would have no mercy. I lingered quite a time near the black iron gate, with its tall spikes, every few minutes deciding in disgust that I could not wait an instant longer- and every time, remaining. All the while, I prayed that my frail efforts at invisibility would permit me to escape detection.

After no more than half an hour, the blue-black aura abruptly vanished, like someone extinguis.h.i.+ng a lamp that shed darkness rather than light. I turned my gaze skyward and saw a large bat flapping silently through the air-a beautiful creature with vast wings of bone and sinew covered by gossamer grey skin, and the whole of it veiled in sheer, s.h.i.+mmering indigo.

I took to the air and followed at quite a distance, taking care not to be discovered. He sailed along the Thames' north bank over regal estates and green bits of farmland, until the landscape grew dotted with buildings closer and closer together; and then we were in the city.

He knew precisely where he was going, for never did he slow or swoop down to inspect the area or search for victims. Not until we were in the heart of London proper did he gradually ease the flapping of his wings. Lower and lower he sank through the undulating white mist, until at last he hovered just outside a respectable-sized house of brick, set behind a gated stone wall bearing the sign HILLINGHAM.

Again, I kept a respectable length between us, and strengthened my invisibility as best I could. What I now report I saw from beneath a great sycamore a whole rolling gra.s.sy lawn away. From there, I put my immortally keen vision to good use and witnessed the following: The bat hovered at a dark second-story window, the sash raised to let in the cool, damp air and release the day's heat. There the handsome creature lingered but a moment before transforming itself into the handsome, dark-haired Vlad, who slipped easily through the gap without awaiting an invitation to enter. This was a house he had visited before.

Though the room was dark, I could see inside with ease. Upon a white, lacy (and no doubt virginal) bed lay a young lady with waving sand-coloured hair and a pretty enough face.

Apparently her sleep had been unrelentingly restless, for she had kicked off her coverlet and lay so tangled in the twisted sheets that one could not judge where they ended and her frilly white night-gown began; from beneath them both a pale, curving thigh peeked scandalously.

As Vlad approached the bed, she wakened drowsily and, upon recognising him, sat up and opened her arms to him, as the biblical man must have welcomed his prodigal son. He stepped into the embrace and held her, golden-brown waves cascading over his arms-and drank. (Almost fifty years ago, he did the same for me-and how well I remember the sweetness of it still!) At the moment his lips found her tender neck, I turned and fled back to Carfax at the highest possible speed. I had seen what I needed, and knew the way back to Hillingham; now I was obliged to conduct a swift search of Vlad's new and dreary home.

What did I find? Dust, dust, and dust, and scores of inhospitable rats-but certainly no gleaming parchment with golden script. I looked inside the box where he had lain and found nothing within but mouldering earth that I suspected had been dug from the chapel floor in Transylvania. (Elisabeth is right on one account-his superst.i.tions are strange indeed!) All fifty of the boxes had been recently pried open, and I looked into every one.

Dust and vile-smelling dirt. I searched a few places elsewhere-in a cabinet built into the wall, and the lone table that stood near the entryway-without success. Yet I dared not linger; thus I made a swift tour of the house and the grounds, and departed for home, fearful of being discovered.

Now I am home, and although Elisabeth is solicitous to an annoying degree, I have stolen a moment of privacy to sit with my beautiful hound and c.o.c.katoo (the poor things, how they tremble at my very nearness, and when I speak tenderly to them, they are undone by confusion). I must write this all down and think hard in terms of strategy. I am alone in this and can trust neither Elisabeth nor Vlad; Van Helsing I might believe, for though he means me harm, he is not given to deceit. If I could only find him, I would question him first and kill later.

As for tomorrow, I can see no way around it: I must take a deadly risk.

26 AUGUST.

Elisabeth was very moody today, and though she tried to master herself, she snapped at me irritably. Then she pressed a wad of pound notes into my hand in lieu of apology, and bade me go shopping.

So I and my handsome coachman drove through the city, and at one point, I ordered him to wait for me outside a fine dress-shop. Once inside, I made myself invisible and rode the wind the short distance to Hillingham.

It being shortly after mid-day, I was altogether unsure that I would catch Vlad's victim alone; but I knew that she would be too weak to stray far from home. Daylight gave the estate at Hillingham a far cheerier air; the gabled stone house no longer seemed grim and sterile, but quite cheerful with its red door and eaves and white lace curtains. Upon the deep green lawn, black and tan terrier pups gambolled whilst their weary mother watched beneath the shade of a tall ash; nearby, a servant tended a perfumed garden of roses.

Gone, too, was the dark blue miasma that marked Vlad's presence, and that was perhaps the most cheerful sign of all.

I located at once the window where Vlad had entered, and peered inside. The sash was closed today, despite the glorious warm breeze, but the young lady was exactly where I had expected to find her-in bed, propped up upon pillows, reading, with the covers drawn up as far as possible, as if she feared a chill on this, one of the warmest days of the year. She was quite a pretty girl, really, with light green upward-slanting eyes, sculpted cheekbones, and a small, thin nose, all of which gave her a rather feline look; and she wore a lovely dressing- gown of embroidered linen eyelet, pale sea-green to enhance her eyes. Whilst she tead, a chambermaid stood beside the bed, devotedly brus.h.i.+ng out the lady's long, waving hair- which, in the dappled sunlight, looked the colour of sand gilded here and there with gold.

Lying against the pale-green gown, it looked like a s.h.i.+mmering sh.o.r.e beside the great ocean.

As I watched, a kitchen maid entered with a tray bearing a modest luncheon and tea; her young mistress sighed and shook her head, but the servant pressed her case, and left the tray on the table beside the bed in case the young lady's appet.i.te improved.

The instant the servants had gone, closing the door behind her, I drew nearer to the window and materialised just enough so that I could tap my fingernails against the gla.s.s. As I had hoped, the girl looked up from her reading, and tilted her head, curious; I drummed harder, harder, projecting my aura outward as a fisherman casts a net, luring her until she could resist no more. She pulled back the covers and rose languidly; slowly (pausing once to close her eyes and press a hand to her forehead as if dizzied) she made her way to the window, and with great effort pulled up the sash.

This was my invitation. I lunged forward, thinking to leap through the open window into the bedroom, as Vlad had done the night before.

But something held me back at the instant I ducked my head beneath the gla.s.s. A talisman, something fastened above or below the window which made my skin tingle, then sting, then burn fiercely, as if I were attempting to swim through water which had been infused with ever-increasing amounts of acid until it was pure vitriol. I cried out at the pain, recoiling; my invisibility should have prevented the girl from hearing any sound, but she must have sensed something, for she frowned in puzzlement and peered farther out before shutting the gla.s.s.

This was Vlad's doing, I decided, and silently swore to him that I would not be so easily discouraged. Thus I went round to other windows until I found one unenc.u.mbered by any spell-the dining room, where I found the same serving-girl setting a long table for only one.

Again, I tapped upon the window and mesmerised her quite easily; she pulled open the window without an instant's hesitation.

I wasted no time with her, but made my way directly upstairs to her young mistress' room.

There I knocked, and was obligingly admitted entry by her call: ”Come in...”

There is one moment when we vampires lose our ability to hide ourselves: at the moment of feeding, not because of any limitation imposed on us by the Dark Lord's bargain, but because the act of drinking blood overwhelms us as utterly as it does our victim. Thus our mental concentration, so necessary for manipulating the aura, fails, and we are visible to those who nourish us.

So it was that when I stepped over the threshold into her chamber, I saw no point in veiling my presence; she would see me soon enough in any case.

When I appeared all at once in the entryway, pulled the door shut behind me, and locked it, she sat straight up in the bed and lifted a pale hand to pale lips with a look of intense curiosity tempered by gentle fear. She might well have cried out for one of the maids, but she was a gentlewoman, schooled in civility, and so she asked, with as much courtesy as she could summon in the face of such a surprise: ”Who are you?”

I smiled, and within me felt immortal beauty rise up and flower; felt, too, my magnetism instinctively increase and surge out through my eyes to the young lady's, drawing her irrevocably to me. Deep, deep behind the green ocean of her gaze, I saw the faint glimmer of indigo. I would have to strike quickly; I would have to keep my own mind as blank as possible. Even so, the danger to me was still great. Who knew the limits of Vlad's power?

How could I be sure that even during the day, he would not reach out through this lethargic young creature and smite me?

”A friend, come to help in time of need,” I said, crossing over to stand beside the bed. At once I became keenly aware of diluted vitriol tingling upon my skin, and glanced up to find over the single window a tiny silver crucifix. Impossible that I should be affected by it anymore, now that Elisabeth had shown me the truth... unless, of course, it had been charged by a powerful and educated magician: Vlad.

The young lady distracted me then from that miserable thought; she sighed and pressed a hand to her heart- whether to protect it or bring it forth to offer up to me, I cannot say, but her startled gaze became one of ecstatic love, and her lips parted in sensual recognition of the event to come. ”You are so beautiful,” she whispered, tilting her face upward towards mine, revealing a long white neck partially covered by a velvet band.

My smile grew ironic. Mary had uttered the very same compliment, but hers had been sincere (if not altogether lucid), and had touched me to the core; the girl's came as a result of her being thoroughly mesmerised, and so held no pleasure for me.

I bent for the kiss, and pushed the band of velvet down until I found the marks. I put my lips to her neck there, and licked the skin, feeling the tiny punctures with my tongue so that I might place my eyeteeth exactly upon them. There I briefly hovered-not from a desjre to savour the moment, but from trepidation.

Knowledge is ofttimes carried on the blood; to drink is also to learn of the victim. But at such moments, it is impossible for us to hold back; our auras surge forth to mingle with those of our prey. This is generally of no concern, for when the victim is thoroughly entranced, all she learns is forgotten upon waking, while the psychic tie to the vampire remains.

Thus Vlad can know her thoughts, her feelings, her images, to a limited degree (unless he more thoroughly ties her to him by an exchange of blood, at which point he can know almost anything he desires). And if I joined with her when she was mesmerised, and most open to his thoughts, I would know them.

But would he also know mine?

The reward outweighed the risk. I closed my eyes as my teeth sank slowly into the path already cleared for them, and tried to focus my mind solely on the sound of the girl's breathing and her beating heart.

The blood rose up to meet me, and I drank.

Image of a plump, buxom woman-all b.r.e.a.s.t.s and belly, with no neck, thin greying hair swept into a scanty pompadour. Mother is looking ill these days, poor thing.