by Jasper Kent
‘My God!’ Her voice had become hushed. ‘Is it really you?’
‘It’s me, Susanna.’ I offered a sort of smile.
It seemed to work. She came across the room, holding her hands out in front of her. I took them in mine, genuinely enjoying the touch of her cool flesh after so many years. It was only when she came close that I saw what I should have realized from the start – that she was pregnant, still pregnant, just as she had been at the moment of her death. The half-formed body of my child lived within her.
She snatched her hands away. ‘How can I be sure?’ she asked. ‘Danilov isn’t an idiot. He could have found out my name.’
‘I could tell you other things about you; the name of the man who made you into a voordalak.’
‘Which is?’
‘Honoré.’
‘He could have found that out too.’
I was on desperately thin ice. I was lucky that she had told Zmyeevich Honoré’s name, but if I could only tell her things that I – Iuda – also knew, she might quickly cotton on. And if she were to ask me about anything that had occurred between her and Zmyeevich, I was lost. It was a track I should not have embarked upon. But there was a way out.
‘What about a more practical test?’ I asked.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Danilov could have learned as much about you as he likes, but he couldn’t unlearn his pathetic morality.’
‘Go on?’
‘Do you think he could kill, just for the sake of killing? Do you think if I were Danilov I’d dare even suggest it?’
She grinned broadly. ‘Oh, it’s good to have you back.’
‘Let’s do it then.’
She shook her head. ‘It’s still light. Can’t you tell?’
‘Not any more.’ It was a skill that had been genuinely lost to me in this human body.
She looked suddenly sad and put a hand to my cheek. ‘It must be so terrible for you. But we’ll go out as soon as it gets dark and find someone and you can prove yourself to me.’
‘I can go out now,’ I said.
She smiled. ‘Don’t be silly. We’ll go together.’ She went back to the door, then turned to the other vampire. ‘Ilya, make sure he doesn’t leave.’ Then to me. ‘I’ll be back at sunset.’ She tapped against her thighs excitedly with both hands. ‘This is going to be so wonderful.’
She left. I sat down on one of the coffins. Ilya, as I now knew him to be, moved swiftly over to the door and closed it, then leaned against it, eyeing me. He said nothing. It was almost as though he were challenging me to try and get past him, but in this body I would not have stood a chance. And anyway, I had no desire to leave. My plan was working to perfection.
It was about three hours later when Susanna returned. She was not alone; accompanying her were two more vampires both displaying much the same surly mindlessness that I could see in Ilya. They reminded me of the creatures I had travelled to Russia with in 1812, and I suspected that the reason was the same – that they had repeatedly exchanged blood with Susanna and allowed her to rule them. It was a trick she had learned from Zmyeevich.
‘It’s time,’ she said. Her eyes widened fractionally as she spoke.
I stood up and went over to her. She took my hand and led me along the passageway. We went through the low gap at the base of the stairs, and then turned along the corridor that led to the iron ladder. On the way we passed several small alcoves, in which were more coffins, along with a couple of large packing cases. At the ladder Ilya went first, then Susanna, then me, with the others following behind. Looking up I could see Susanna’s petticoats and the occasional glimpse of her thigh as she climbed. My mind travelled back to the days when I had first known her and the faltering steps we had taken along the path to becoming lovers. Back then I’d felt embarrassed at even the slightest sexual arousal I’d experienced in reaction to such a sight. I’d long known what a fool I’d been as a child.
Soon we’d all climbed through the opening in the floor, high above ground level. Ilya lowered the flagstone back into place. We went down the stairs and came to the iron gate. It was not unlike the gate beneath Saint George’s Church in Esher, which I’d once closed on Susanna, leaving her to her fate. She produced a key and began to unlock it.
‘Shouldn’t we tie his hands or something?’ asked Ilya. ‘In case he tries to escape.’
‘Why would I have come here, just to escape?’ I asked.
‘Exactly,’ said Susanna. ‘Anyway, if he makes a run for it, we’ll easily catch him. That body doesn’t look like much.’
She opened the gate and we went through. Ilya locked it with his own key. We went down the stairs. At the bottom, Susanna stopped. ‘Not all at once,’ she said. ‘We don’t need to draw attention to ourselves. We’ll meet by the Nikolai memorial.’
Ilya went first, then Susanna and I went together. She slipped her hand into mine as we crossed the floor of the nave. It was a little busier than it had been when I arrived. She looked up at me. Vivid as my memories of her were, I could not recall her in quite that pose before. Then I realized. All the time I’d known her back then, she’d been taller than me. She grinned. ‘If anyone asks, I’m your granddaughter.’
We left the cathedral by the southern portal and walked across Saint Isaac’s Square to the foot of the statue of Nikolai I. Ilya was already there. A few minutes later the other two arrived.
‘Right then,’ she said. ‘Where do you want to go?’
‘You know the city better than I,’ I said. ‘Somewhere there’ll be enough for us all.’
She raised her hand to her face, tapping her fingers against her bottom lip. Then she came to a decision. ‘This way,’ she announced. We crossed the river and went down Demidovsky Lane, in the direction of the Haymarket. I was a little surprised by her lack of inventiveness. To me the obvious victim for this little experiment would be someone whom Danilov loved, for example the woman Nadya – his wife or mistress, I wasn’t sure which. I could have volunteered the idea myself, but chose against it. I might find better uses for Nadya later. And besides, while I already knew that Danilov’s resting soul did not have the power to prevent me from killing a stranger, it might balk at the act of killing someone so close to him, and reassert itself.
We went through the Haymarket without stopping, then crossed the Fontanka, finally to walk alongside a small waterway that I’d never visited before, but which I calculated to be the Vvedensky Canal. Ahead of us I could see the Tsarskoye Selo Railway Station. The closed carriage of a train, speeding through the countryside so that none could escape, would make a fine hunting ground for a group of vampires. But we didn’t get that far.
She led us into a public bathhouse. There was a babushka at a desk by the door, collecting money, but we marched past her. She shouted after us and then went away into another room, warning that she would get help. There were a number of doors off the main hallway, behind any of which we might have found innumerable means of satisfying our passions, but Susanna chose the men’s steam room. The five of us went inside.
It wasn’t particularly steamy, but was stultifyingly hot. We were all dressed for outdoors, though for the vampires that was for show – neither the cold outside nor the heat within affected them. The same could not be said for me.
‘Don’t let anyone in,’ said Susanna. One of her minions obeyed, going back to the door by which we had come. He took the leather belt from his trousers and wrapped it around the handles. It would keep us safe for long enough.
There were seven men in the room, the youngest in his twenties, the oldest probably over eighty. Some were fat, some thin. All were naked. Fourteen eyes stared at us in surprise – or more precisely stared at Susanna. One of them stood up. He showed no embarrassment at his nudity.
‘Who the devil are you?’
She looked back at him. He was one of the older ones, and far taller than her. Her eyes scanned up and down his body, lingering for a moment on his genitals. Then she looked at me. �
��Will this one do?’
I shrugged. ‘He’s as good as any.’ I wondered if that was really how Zmyeevich would have put it.
She held her arm out towards him, offering him to me. I slipped my hand into my pocket. My fingers brushed against my double-bladed knife. I would have dearly loved to use it, but the risk was too great. It was too distinctive of me. I doubted if any of these five vampires had not heard the tales of horror that Richard Cain had inflicted on their brethren. At least one of them would know of his favourite weapon. But I still had the razor. I fished it out and opened it, then took a step forward.
The old man turned his head towards me as I approached and his expression changed from outrage to astonishment.
‘Mihail! Mihail Konstantinovich! What the hell are you up to? Who are these people? Are they Bolsheviks or something?’
I smiled and exchanged a glance with Susanna, who seemed to share my enjoyment of the situation. It would not be as effective as killing Nadya might have been, but it would make the whole thing even more convincing if this was a friend of Danilov’s. That was if Danilov didn’t stop me. I took a step forward.
‘For God’s sake,’ he bleated. ‘Don’t you recognize me? It’s me – Roman Pyetrovich.’
I raised the blade high in the air.
‘What on earth are you playing at, you fool? There are—’
I flicked the razor down towards his cheek, but he was quick for his age. His hand flashed upwards and grabbed me by the wrist, stopping the blow in mid-flight. He stared into my eyes, but now his face showed only terror. He was not strong, but then neither was I. We held the pose in a pathetic stalemate for several seconds.
Then, in just the same way that he was holding my wrist, Susanna reached up and took his. And that was just the beginning; she squeezed. The terror in his eyes turned to agony. He let out a feeble croak, as if suppressing the urge to scream for all he was worth, and at the same time let go of me. I raised my arm again, and chaos momentarily erupted. Three of the others – the younger ones – rushed towards us. The other vampires sprang into action. Ilya punched one of the men hard in the face, knocking him to the floor. The vampire who’d been at the door raised his hand and placed it against the chest of another, easily pushing him back against the wall.
The third man got close enough to me to be about to throw a punch, but Susanna’s hand flashed downwards towards his groin. I didn’t need to see to know what she had caught hold of. She applied the same pressure she had used on Roman Pyetrovich’s wrist, and the scream that ensued was far louder. She threw the man across the room. Then she vanished behind Roman Pyetrovich, pinning his arms behind his back so that he could do nothing to defend himself. I put my left hand on his cheek, pushing his face to one side, then brought the razor ponderously across his throat.
It was not so deep a cut as those I’d used to deal with the old couple the previous night. It would bring about his death, but not quite so quickly. To convince Susanna I needed not only to kill, but to revel in the act. It was not something I shied away from. The blood shot from the wound, but soon eased to a gentle trickle over his collarbone and down his chest. Susanna’s face peeped around from behind him.
‘Now drink,’ she said. ‘Prove once and for all that you are who you say you are.’
I leaned forward, close to the gash in the man’s neck. I could smell the cleanliness of his flesh, mingling with the slightest hint of the scent of his blood. I placed my mouth against his skin, not over the wound but a little below it, where the blood flowed. I pressed my tongue against it, tasting it, but that was enough. I flung my head away from his, forcing back the urge to vomit. I spat across the room, but still I could taste the blood in my mouth. I spat again.
‘Funny kind of vampire,’ said Ilya.
Susanna looked at me questioningly.
‘I’m sorry,’ I told her. ‘But my body is still human. My mind may have the desires of a voordalak, but my body still has the tastes – and disgusts – of a human. I couldn’t stomach it, no more than any of them could.’
I felt her hand on my arm. ‘You poor creature. But you can still enjoy the kill?’
‘Of course,’ I smiled.
‘Then do so.’
Roman Pyetrovich’s body jerked as she tightened her grip on his arms, but still she managed to peer around his side so that she could see what I was doing. I lifted the blade again, this time with my thumb against the back of it so that I could press it deeper into the flesh. I put my other hand behind his neck to brace myself. He muttered a single word, ‘No!’ but offered little resistance. His eyes followed the edge of the blade until it disappeared from sight under his chin. It was only a moment later that it dug into him, slicing through every type of flesh that it encountered: skin, blood vessels, windpipe, cartilage and muscle. I didn’t quite make it through to the bone. The blood flow was prodigious. My hand was covered in it, almost hidden inside the folds of flesh that hung from his neck. I knew I could have done better with my own knife, but this was good enough. I still felt some little nausea at it, but managed to control myself.
Susanna allowed the lifeless corpse to drop to the floor. I looked around. There were three distinct expressions on the faces in the room. On those of the three voordalaki there was a look of appreciation, respect even, and the grudging admission that I was who I claimed to be. On the men in the room there was only the appearance of unbelieving terror. But it was Susanna’s reaction that was the most fascinating. In her face I saw something that I had never known in her in all the time we were together in our youth. It was an expression of supreme love. I envied Zmyeevich. She had never felt like that towards me. When we had been young, we had played together and as we had grown into adulthood, so the games we played had matured, but I had never meant anything more to her, nor she to me. We had been playmates to one another – playthings. For her Zmyeevich meant something far greater.
And she believed me to be him.
I knew that I must act my role convincingly. I raised myself upright and opened my arms wide, addressing them as though I were the host at a banquet. ‘Well?’ I said to them. ‘I’ve taken my pleasure here. Isn’t it time that you took yours?’
They required no second bidding. I leaned back against the wall, folding my arms, and enjoyed the spectacle of seeing the four vampires – especially the one that appeared to be scarcely more than a little girl – feast upon the frightened, trapped, sweaty, naked men before them.
CHAPTER XVII
IT WASN’T SO very late when we got back to saint ISAAC’S. Susanna and the others had gorged themselves, and I’d enjoyed being witness to it. Even so, I’d felt a little above it all, just as I had done in the old days, when I’d passed myself off as a vampire among so many of them. When we opened the doors the old woman who had seen us enter was there, with two heavyset men whom she’d evidently called on to eject us. We dealt with them easily enough – not that I was much help. Some of us were far too obviously covered in blood to walk back through the streets of Petrograd, but there were seven men’s outfits available for us to choose from, for which the original wearers had no further use. Susanna had managed to indulge herself fully, but without a single drop of blood despoiling her dress.
She dismissed the others and we sat alone in the alcove where I assumed she slept. I waited until I heard their footsteps fade to nothing.
‘Are you convinced?’ I asked.
‘Of course. I should have known from the moment you returned. I shouldn’t have abandoned you after the ceremony.’
‘You weren’t to know. But there is much that I must know – so much that has happened since my death.’ I knew I had still to tread carefully, that any mistake could destroy my hard work. I didn’t even know when Zmyeevich had died, except that it occurred after my own death.
‘I don’t know exactly what happened to you after you left England. You said you were going home. I knew they’d pursue you, but I was sure you could defeat them. You don’t know how m
uch I dreamed of receiving some kind of message from you, summoning me to be with you at your castle. The years passed and the news that you were dead began to spread across the vampires of Europe, but I heard nothing.’
‘So when did you find out?’ It would give me some clue as to when it had happened.
She smiled. ‘I remember it very clearly. It was the New Year – the new century. 1899 became 1900. I was in London, perched up on top of the Euston Arch with a couple of others, watching the drunks go by and waiting till their numbers thinned a little before we made our move. I mentioned you and how I hoped you’d come back one day and they both just looked at me, and then one of them told me. I killed perhaps forty people that night – scarcely drank a drop from any of them. That’s how much you meant to me.’
‘But you never gave up on me.’
She shook her head. ‘You were the one who told me about the legends that a vampire could be brought back. And you’d told me where I could find your blood, and where I could find people whose blood you’d drunk. It was as though you’d worked it all out, and had just been laying the pieces out in front of me.’
‘I’m not that clever.’ I regretted it the instant I spoke. It was perfectly accurate – Zmyeevich was nowhere near intelligent enough to work out something like that for himself – but that didn’t mean he had the humility to admit it. Fortunately she didn’t remark upon it.
‘You didn’t have time,’ she insisted. ‘You knew about Purfleet and Piccadilly, but no more details. They hounded you out before you could get anywhere. The house in Purfleet was easy to find. I remember Richard talking about it.’
I felt the tiniest thrill at the sound of my name – and my Christian name at that – on her lips.
‘It was his uncle’s house,’ she continued. ‘He told me how he used to visit. He described it – it was the only place like it in the area. But Piccadilly is a long street. It took me years to find out which one was his. But finally I did and I broke in, and I found the vial of your blood.’