Preview:
The sight of Robert St. John carrying the limp body of his wife into the village made everyone stop what they were doing and stare as he passed. He looked like he had been in a terrible fight, and her skin was so white in the sunlight. Her clothes were stained with blood, and her loose brown hair was clotted with it.
They made a silent parade behind him as he took her toward the police station at the end of the road. They waited outside as he carried her in, talking in hushed voices with puzzlement and concern. The poor young herr looked so sad. This was the young couple who had been married just the day before. What had happened in the night to the beautiful bride? Who could have done such a thing? These things happened in the valley before, but not since Napoleon's army took billets among the villagers and abused their welcome.
Robert carried Emmaline's inert body into the front of the station and stood before the reception desk. “I would like to speak to someone about my wife's murder,” he said calmly.
The young sergeant looked up at the strange sight with large round eyes, stared for a long moment until he found his voice and said, “of course. Come this way.” He got up quickly from his desk and led the way into the back offices, where he found a place in one of the jail cells for Robert to lay her body down on a cot. “May I offer you anything to drink? Coffee, or tea?”
Robert shook his head and replied. “No. Nothing.”
“Wait here. I will return shortly,” the young sergeant said, and he disappeared down the hall almost at a dead run.
A few minutes later, the inspector in charge of the station appeared at the door and saw what the trouble was about. “I am Chief Inspector Holzner. I'm sorry to hear that your wife has been killed. Do you know who might have done it?”
“Yes,” Robert said. “His name is Count Vladimir Drakulya. He is a guest of the Russian Embassy.”
“Let me send for the coroner, who will examine your wife's body and certify her death. Then I will take your statement,” the inspector said. “The count is well known hereabouts. It is a serious charge you are making.”
“Nevertheless, it is the truth,” Robert said.
“You look like you were in a fight.”
“I was forced to defend myself when I tried to rescue her.”
The inspector studied him quietly, then walked away giving orders in German. He could not know that Robert's blood was translating every word.
When the coroner came he spent a few minutes examining Emmaline's lifeless body, clucking quietly to himself. When he had finished, he said, “There is no doubt of it. She has lost a lot of blood. She was almost completely exanguinated from two puncture marks made directly into the vein.”
“She bled to death,” Robert said simply. “I could have told you that.”
“Do you know what the count may have used as a weapon?” the inspector asked.
“He used his teeth, inspector,” Robert replied. “The count bit her.”
“Bit her?” the inspector said, cocking his head in puzzlement.
“Are you saying the count is vampyr?” the coroner asked. “The undead?”
“Yes. The worst kind, Doctor. The kind that kills.”
“Is there any other?” the coroner protested.
Robert was disinclined to argue that point for the moment. “They were using my wife to get to me. When I found him and his men on Piz Gloria, he had apparently already done the deed. I was able to get her away from him but she succumbed from her injuries.”
“But, you did not actually see him do this?”
“No.”
He watched the two men discuss what to do in the face of this revelation. Finally, the inspector turned to him and said, “I am sorry for your loss, sir, but if the other villagers find out what has happened we could have a riot on our hands. My people are prone to superstition and they cannot deal rationally with the truth.”
“I understand. But what are you going to do about the count? I demand justice.”
“If, as you say, he is under the protection of the Russian Embassy, there is very little I can do outside my jurisdiction. I will speak to the burgomeister and see what he can suggest to deal with him. Please be patient, and I will do whatever I can to obtain justice for your beautiful bride.”
“Thank you,” Robert said. “May I wait in your office?”
“Are you not staying at the Meisner Inn near the falls?”
“I had already arranged for us to leave when she was taken.”
The inspector was ready with a quick wit. “I will speak to the manager and have him give you a room in the main house. If the count is as dangerous as you say he is, we must be circumspect.”
“I agree,” Robert replied. “Thank you. I will await your report on your progress there. And if you have any further questions of me I am at your disposal.”
Ignoring the curious stares of the villagers and the tourists assembled in front of the station house, the inspector led Robert to a pair of horses tethered in front. They mounted and rode to the inn, where the manager was made to promise he would say nothing about the young herr's stay to anyone. Robert showed the inspector the condition of their cabin as he gathered his things together and then followed him into the main house, where the manager had given him a room way in the back with a view of the village church, not knowing how much it would torture the young man to see it. There, Robert and the inspector parted, and he tried to settle down to heal his bruises and wait for any word of the count's arrest. He stared at the church steeple glowing in the golden sunlight for a few long minutes before he shut the curtains to blot out the sight. Then he collapsed into unrestrained weeping until he fell asleep.
The sun went down slowly in the west, and Robert woke several hours later, just as hungry for blood as ever. But he did not dare go out before dark, so he laid back and watched the shadows lengthen in the ceiling until they faded away. Then he dressed, noting that the bruises on his chin and chest had already disappeared as if they were never there. Being a vampire had certain perks, but Robert still loathed himself for being one.
The bright golden disc had barely disappeared behind the jagged stone peaks of the Alps when a hue and cry went up in the village. Several villagers had seen a tall man in black lurking near the inn, and he matched the description the police had circulated of the man who had murdered the young bride. Everyone hurried home to make sure their families were safe, while others went and began to arm themselves, and set guards on the street corners to watch for the intruder when they discovered that the police were nowhere to be found.
Robert left his room quite unaware of this and went to the desk in front. He asked the clerk to bring the manager. When the man arrived he was nervous and white as a sheet as if he had seen a ghost. Robert saw this and asked, “Have you had any word from Chief Inspector Holzner yet?”
“Nein, mein herr,” the manager said.
“I wonder what happened,” Robert mused. “Can you send a message to him? It is urgent that I speak with him.”
“I would advise that you wait until morning, sir. No one wants to go out after dark. The police have not returned from the mountain.”
“Not returned?” Robert echoed him. ”How long ago did they go up?”
“This morning, sir, just after you arrived.”
Robert masked his concern with a calm face and said, “I see. All right, I will go into the sitting room and wait. Is there any hot tea?”
The manager swallowed a lump in his throat and said, “Yes, sir. I'll get someone to serve you some right away.”
“Thank you.” Robert walked away feeling as if something was wrong, but he was not sure what. He went into the fireside room and settled into a couch furthest away from the door where he could watch the movements of the other customers and see what he could learn. But they were cautious in their conversation and said little.
The girl who brought his tea was the manager's daughter, young and pretty with a bloom to her cheeks and braided dark blonde hair bound with ribbons. She set the service down on the table in front of him and said, “It is sad what happened to your wife, sir. I am so sorry.”
“It's quite all right,” Robert said, though that was a lie. He felt as if he was going to lose control at any moment and smash something. “Thank you. You are very kind to say so.”
“If there is anything I can do to help you, please do not hesitate to ask,” she said, smiling sadly while she poured his tea. “When my mother died, it was the same for papa. He blamed himself for all the hurt, even when it was not his fault. He loves her still.”
“What is your name?” he asked her.
“Liesel, sir,” she smiled and curtsied prettily.
“How did she die, may I ask?”
“Threw herself into the falls. A mental problem, the doctor said.” She passed the cup and saucer to him and put her hands under her apron. “There was nothing anyone could have done.”
“Oh, I see.”
“I was only seven. But even then I understood. Life goes on, even after death. I know my mother is in heaven and watching over me still.”
“How old are you now, Liesel?”
“Sixteen.”
“You are wiser than me,” Robert said. “I hope you find a good young man who will take care of you and make you happy.” He took a sip of the tea, finding it comforting. The warmth was just enough to quell some of the rumbling in his stomach before it turned into a punishing cramp.
The girl leaned down a little and whispered, “my cousin Hans wants to marry me, but I must wait for papa to approve. He says I am too young.”
“And so you are. You have all the time in the world...” Robert's words trailed off as he nearly burst into tears. The girl must have seen his eyes tear up because she sat down beside him suddenly and threw an arm around his shoulders. “I am sorry to have upset you, sir.”
Robert caught himself stirring at the scent of her blood and straightened. “Not your fault, my dear.” He pushed her away gently. “I'll be all right in a moment.” He took a shagged out breath. “Thank you, Liesel.”
She stood and nodded sadly, then took her tray away with her into the back rooms.
An hour later, still no word from Chief Inspector Holzner. Now the sensation of danger was more pronounced than ever, and he could not wait around anymore. Robert rose from his chair, went to the desk in front and asked, “Have you heard anything from Chief Inspector Holzner yet?”
The young clerk was nervous. “No, sir.”
“All right. I'm going over to the station house. Tell the manager I'll be back shortly.”
“Sir, are you sure you want to go out alone?” the clerk asked him.
“I don't see that I have much of a choice,” he replied.
With that, he went back to his room and threw on his overcoat and gloves, wrapped his muffler around his neck and left by the front entrance to walk down the road to the police station.
When he arrived at the station house was silent and dark, and oddly vacant. It seemed that every available man had gone up, and none was left to mind the station. Robert stood there in the moonlight wondering what to do next when he heard a muffled scream coming from the vicinity of the inn. He felt rather than heard the silent laughter echoing through his brain.
Instinct galvanized him, and he sprinted off in that direction. He could see figures struggling in the darkness near the trees. As he went closer he saw a man holding a girl in his arms but he was not kissing her. He was biting her neck. Robert doubled his speed and slammed into the pair, separating them with sheer force of strength.
The man turned to face him. It was Drakulya once again. His mouth was covered in blood and contorted into an evil sneer as he dropped his prey. The girl was Liesel, and her young body fell into a limp helpless tangle of limbs near the pail of water she had drawn from the well pump outside the open kitchen door. Robert could feel her life force slowly draining away with every drop of blood that began to stain the snow red.
“You...” Robert did not finish as he launched himself at the count and clasped him at the neck with both hands, started to squeeze. Then Vladimir's long fingered hands were at his throat, and he felt himself catching on fire as the power coursing through his body made a circuit with the snow and surrounded the both of them. But Drakulya let go quickly and Robert fell to his hands and knees in the cold white slush, gasping for air and life. The master vampire came back and gave him a kick in the ribs that knocked him over on his side. Pain flashed through his ribs and he laid still.
“You fool,” Vlad declared. “You cannot stop me from taking what I want. You are weak with hunger. You could have fed from this girl but you did not. She is mine, now.” He turned and went toward the girl, intending to finish what he started.
“For pity's sake, leave her alone,” Robert gasped. “She does not belong to you. Have you no shred of decency?”
Drakulya paused. “I am hungry. You took Emmaline away from me, so now I must repay you for your interference. They are all mine, to do with what I will. Some day you will understand.”
“I only understand that you are a monster,” Robert rasped. “I know what you are, and I know that you are evil personified.”
Vladimir changed course abruptly and returned. “And you. Are you not one of my kind? You need to feed. You are weak because you choose to resist your true nature. Your own blood must have told you what you must do to survive. This herd is in need of culling. They are already determined to kill each other. What is one more, or two?”
“I have managed to feed without killing,” Robert replied. “You are reckless. You have no self control. Hasn't anyone told you this before? You must stop.”
“I shall do what I please. Do not lecture me on how to hunt. I will keep my own counsel what to do.”
Robert's eyes grew dark with anger. “And Emmaline? She was my wife, Drakulya, an innocent in this war. Must you kill the innocent along with the guilty?”
The sound of people coming alerted them both. Drakulya produced a pistol from the folds of his coat and aimed it as he said, “come with me. I am not going to stay, and if you do they will pin the blame where it belongs. Come now, Robert.” The count towered over him with his hand stretched out. Robert could not fight the echoes in his mind anymore, reached out and took it. Vladimir pulled him to his feet and led him away into the night.
As they walked back up the mountain toward the lodge Drakulya explained what had happened to the police. “You thought you had me when you sent those human dogs after me. I gorged myself on their blood,” he grinned with open contempt. “It was fitting that I did as payment for the loss of my men. You gave me the idea, Robert. Are you not pleased with your handiwork?”
“If you fed on all those men, then why did you need the girl?” Robert asked him, probing for weakness, a chink in Vladimir's armor.
“I am a creature of great aspirations, great appetites. My power flows from fresh warm female blood, from sex, just as yours does. It is as essential as other foods are to the man ape.”
“Is that why you took Emmaline?”
“Her blood was sweeter than honey, full of fire and ice. You cannot know how much she needed to be bled, as a cow is in need of being milked.” He was still smiling as he said it, and Robert gritted his teeth in anger to keep himself from attacking him again.
“I wouldn't know that, nor do I care to,” he said. “You have not an ounce of love or pity in you.”
“They have their place.” Vladimir stopped and faced him. “I too have loved. I too have lost. But I am not soft and subject to the carnal desires of ordinary men. She did not survive because she lacked strength. Her spirit was strong but her body was not.” He gestured again with the pistol and said, “come on. Go ahead of me.”
Robert thought carefully as he trudged through the snow covering the trail, then said, “did you think she would have willingly allowed you to put your hands on her? I know she rejected you. She told me what you did to her before she died. Such appetites need constant replenishment, don't they? There is no woman in this world that could satisfy your lust for life, so you slaughter men to find your strength. There is a word for that, count.”
Vladimir halted again, and pulled Robert around to face him, his face grim. His golden eyes narrowed as he asked, “do you think me one of those effeminate creatures who prefer the company of other men?”
“Why not, since you are clearly deficient in the practice of being a real man?” Robert said.
The fist that struck him was like a freight train. Robert went down on the snow-covered trail like a sack of potatoes, glad for the merciful darkness that took his mind. But he was awake again in a moment, and he was dragged back to his feet. “Nice try,” Vladimir said, “but I remind you that I can read what is in your mind. You seek to delay me, to find a weakness. I am not so foolish as to trust you. Now keep walking.”
He shoved his prisoner forward, and Robert could do nothing but obey while he wondered where in the world Karel was while all this was happening. His blood was strangely quiescent, perhaps guarding itself against the time when it was needed to ensure his survival, or masking itself against the count's mad obsession to satisfy his lust for human blood and his delusional sense of grandeur. Then an idea came to him from a most unlikely source, and he pounced on it as his one chance to end this conflict once and for all.
They had gone close to the falls when the sound of human voices shouting down in the valley drew their attention. A huge crowd of angry villagers had assembled at the bottom of the trail armed with pitchforks, hunting rifles, and other weapons, and their way was lit with torches fashioned of sticks wrapped in rags soaked with kerosene. They were climbing the trail in a hurry, following Robert's deliberately stomped path through the snow. Bloodhounds had been brought to trace the scent and were baying with distress at the strange smells they followed.
Robert turned and looked, then said, “well, it looks like someone found your handiwork. They sound angry. You could say they are screaming for your blood, Vladimir.”
“They are nothing,” the count insisted, and shoved Robert forward again. But Robert refused to go, reached out suddenly and clung to his arm, pointing to his face. “You're sweating, count. In this cold? Could it be you're frightened of them? Come. If you are so brave, why not stay and face them, and answer to their charges?”
Vladimir frantically tried to remove Robert's clutching fingers. “You fool, they will kill us both,” he rasped.
Robert simply grew his nails into the thick cloth of his cloak and found purchase in the flesh beneath. Vladimir's eyes went wide as he tried to tear himself loose. He fought, struggled, but the strength of the knight's pure heart was too strong as he dragged the master vampire roughly toward the cliff overlooking the falls with singular purpose, smiling a deadly, murderous grin. “I will never let you enslave humanity. If you want to kill me now, then do so,” he said calmly. “But I will take you to Hell with me.”
“You have gone mad,” Vladimir said, astonished. “Let me go at once.”
Still smiling, Robert said, “I've been ready to face my death for a long time. Stay. We belong dead.”
Before the count could free himself, Robert leapt from the rocks, dragging him along. They went down the freezing expanse of water together just as the angry mob reached the cliff, disappeared into the white torrent surrounded by utter darkness and hit the rocks at the bottom with startling force.
Robert laid back, allowed the water to fill his mouth and lungs and waited to drown, still clinging to Drakulya. Then his mind was taken by blessed, peaceful, dark silence. ♦
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