- Prologue

by Quincy Morris, Vampire (BAEN) (v5. 0)

  "You make my head whirl."

  "Then maybe you should not worry about it. I don't."

  "All that and yet…" He touched the cross that dangled from my neck. "Will you kneel and say the Lord's Prayer with me?"

  The power of speech departed from me for an instant, swept away by surprise, which I hoped I concealed. I nodded, understanding why he needed this. When we hunted Dracula it was truly a quest of good against evil, where we all witnessed incontestable proof of the existence of both. "Yes, of course I will," I answered.

  So there before his fire Art and I knelt. I said the words of that old prayer and found solace in it as I always did. In my heart I hoped that Art would also feel the same. When we came to the amen we paused, looking at each other, silent a moment, then on my own and without thought behind it, I began to say the Twenty-third Psalm. Halfway through it, tears rolled down Art's cheeks. He quickly stood and lurched blindly away. He stumbled against his desk and held onto it, needing its support to stay afoot. I continued until the end, then got up.

  His weeping was silent, for men are not free to wail out their grief as are women, though the pain is just as piercing. Directly before him was the portrait of Lucy. I recalled we'd all recited the psalm at her service.

  "I'm sorry, Art. I shouldn't have—"

  "No. It's all right, really it is. I know it's all right now. You've convinced me. I just need a little time."

  I stepped away and went to the window, drawing the curtain aside. The grounds were also as I remembered them from this vantage, gently rolling away from the house to a small tangle of woods, beyond which lay cultivated fields. Not far in the distance was an old eyesore of a stable that had been around since the queen was a young girl. It was long deserted, a roost for stray birds and other animals. I'd considered it as a daytime sanctuary should it become necessary. That possibility seemed lessened, but I had reservations. Maybe Art had accepted my changed condition, but I had to face the ugly possibility that he might later reject it in the brightness of day. I had trusted him on countless adventures with my life as he had trusted his with me, but this was different. I had no desire to test the strength of his acceptance just yet. Not until I saw a return of his old free and easy manner with me.

  He blew his nose, cleared his throat, and in an almost normal voice invited me to sit again. I relinquished my post and gladly returned to the warmth of the fire. Maybe I didn't feel the miseries of extreme heat and cold as before, but there's a comfort in stretching your hands forth and feeling the glow soak into your bones.

  "I want to offer you a drink," he said. There was a tinge of bleak chagrin in his tone.

  "As God is my witness, I wish I could accept it." I gave a small shrug, shaking my head. "I do appreciate the thought, though."

  "This is damned awkward, isn't it?"

  "I reckon so, but we'll probably get over that hill when we stop thinking so much."

  His eyes flickered in a familiar way, and I suddenly saw how alike he and Bertrice were on certain subtle mannerisms. I wanted to mention renewing my acquaintance with her, but this was absolutely not the time.

  "I imagine things were also pretty awkward in the camp when I turned up missing," I said.

  He drew his lips back in a brief grimace. "You still retain your gift for understatement."

  "Everyone in a tizzy?"

  "God, it was dreadful. We'd come so far and done so much and were in shock from your d—well…"

  "I am that sorry, but it wasn't exactly my idea to get dragged away."

  "Certainly not. We were appalled beyond words. Poor Mrs. Harker broke down completely. Harker and the professor saw to her while Jack and I tracked the wolves' trail, but they had climbed to some rocks and we lost it. I couldn't imagine why they'd taken your b-body so far a distance."

  "Wolves are strange varmints, maybe even more so in that part of the world," I said dismissively. "What did you next do?"

  "We got back to the camp around noon, tired and famished. The others had recovered somewhat, but we were all in a terrible state of mind and sick at heart. That was when Jack and I resolved to stay and continue the search for you. It was a wrench for the others. They wanted to stay, too, but Mrs. Harker was in need of a proper place to rest and recover from her ordeal. The professor would have stayed, but Jack sensibly pointed out to him that the lady might later require his professional help. I knew it was all a sham on Jack's part, for he could see Van Helsing was also in need of rest. He has a lion's heart, but isn't as young as he was. He must have seen through the sham, but accepted it as an honorable way out. Harker was willing to stay, but the professor took charge and insisted that his place was with Mrs. Harker, which was something of a relief to her."

  "I thought that's how it might have worked itself."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I'll explain."

  "I rather think you should. Immediately. How did you escape those wolves?"

  "That I don't recall too well. I didn't really become aware of anything until they were gone, chased off by this old hermit who found me."

  "A hermit? All the way out there?"

  "I think that's the whole point of being a hermit."

  "Was he one of the Szgany?"

  "I'm not rightly sure who he was as he had no English and I didn't have but a few words of his speech. We each knew enough Latin to get by on a few things and the rest had to be acted out. Near as I could understand him, he saw the wolves dragging me along and scared them away before they could start in on me. He thought me dead at first, then I began to come around, so he carried me to this cave where he'd been living for years. He was mighty curious about me, and what a trial it must have been for him to hold it in seeing as how we couldn't talk much."

  Art was riveted. Yes, I am a poor liar to those who matter to me, but I'd been rehearsing this story since before leaving Transylvania. I could now flatter myself that I was telling it well.

  "He took care of me for awhile until I was on my feet again—"

  "But was he not aware of your… your…"

  "Condition? Yes, from the first. My clothes were all covered with my blood, so he was quick to figure I was not some ordinary lost traveler he'd rescued from hungry wolves. Soon as I was sitting up and asking questions he thrust a big crucifix into my hands and gave me a hard look. When nothing happened he tried an old Bible on me. I think it was a Bible, he treated it with a lot of reverence and signed for me to kiss it. I did, and after that we got along just fine."

  "What an amazing man."

  "He was indeed. Near as I could tell, he'd been living alone up there for maybe twenty years. I think he'd gone into the forest to get away from a war and decided he liked being on his own. He'd trap animals for their fur and trade the skins in some village for supplies."

  "And he had no difficulty with your… condition?"

  "Not that I noticed, just seemed to accept me like a beach does a shipwrecked sailor."

  "What did you do for—?"

  "Food? He kept some cows for milk and meat. They served."

  "But how did you—no, I don't think I want to ask about that just yet."

  Judging by the green cast to his skin he was wondering how I obtained the blood. "Perhaps not. He didn't seem to mind, and I did what I could to assure him I wasn't taking any samples from him. It was… an interesting time. Besides, he knew I'd be moving on, which I did a month or so after."

  "Why so long? Why did you not immediately return to us?"

  "You just hit on the rough part. When I woke and figured out what had happened I thought myself damned to hell then and there. I thought I should give myself up to the professor so one of you might free my soul, but what held me back was the old hermit and his crucifix and his Bible. They not only proved to him that I was not evil, but me as well. I was mighty confused, though, for the professor had drummed a lot of tall tales into our heads like they were pure gospel. Until then it hadn't occurred to me that there might be different breeds of vampi
res like there's different breeds of dogs, some more dangerous than others. I had to do some long thinking. I concluded that if I walked in on the camp you all would keel over from failed hearts or shoot me to hell and gone and then keel over."

  "Or we might have heard you out."

  "Art, what did we just go through in this very room?"

  He chewed it over, then reluctantly nodded. "I begin to see what you mean."

  "Now multiply that by five and put it in the wilds of the Transylvanian woods during the middle of the night. When it came down to it, my nerve failed me. I was in a pretty terrible state of mind as well, and I just couldn't face the rest of you. Not like that, not until I'd gotten square with myself about what had happened. So I stayed with the hermit, assuming you'd all soon go home again. Imagine my surprise when I found you and Jack Seward were still roaming around."

  "You saw us? When?"

  "Do you recall being attacked one night by a wolf lying under the snow?"

  His jaw nearly brushed the floor. "My God… then it was you! I heard your shouting! Jack thought I'd gone mad and imagined it all. After a time I thought so, too."

  I grinned. "That was me all right. Could have knocked me flat with a feather I was so surprised seeing the both of you there. I worked out the why of it, and it fair choked me up."

  "Why did you not come to us?"

  "I still wasn't ready. On the other hand, I was afraid you'd get yourselves froze to death. Me and the hermit were well set up, but all the two of you had was an old shack ready to fall down any minute."

  "You spied on us?"

  "Kept watch is more close. Then that blizzard hit, and I was sure you'd be trading calling cards with Saint Peter. I did what I could to help out, but so as to not get caught. Did the rabbit cook up good?"

  He burst into a short delighted laugh. "You all along! We were thanking the wrong guardian angel for those miracles. Yes, it cooked wonderfully, the best rabbit I'd ever had, and the warmest fire. You truly saved us."

  "I'm glad."

  "If only we'd known."

  I shook my head. "It wasn't the time."

  "Yes, I suppose not. We left the next day. What did you do?"

  "Said good-bye to my new friend the hermit and left soon after as well."

  "That was ages ago, Quincey. Where did you take yourself?"

  "I had a hankering to see Paris again and wound up there."

  "Paris? What did you do?"

  Here was I finally able to impart some real truth to my story, but I did leave out all the time I spent in the brothels. A gentleman doesn't talk, after all. For now Art was overwound just getting used to having me back and didn't need anything else added to the heap. Speculations about how I now enjoyed pleasures of the flesh could be put off for the moment. Instead, I answered his questions about more mundane pursuits, like how I got my bankers cooperating. I did have to mention my ability to hypnotize, for he was very familiar with the ways of bankers and how pigheaded they can be without the right persuasion. In turn, that led to him asking if I could turn myself into a mist or a bat. I said no, but explained the business about being able to disappear, finally giving a demonstration. Lots of them. He was fascinated, but as the hands spun around on the mantel clock into the wee hours I could see he was near-exhausted.

  "I'll ring for some cafe noir," he said, when I suggested it was time I go. "There's so much more I must hear."

  "Art, your poor skull must be ready to burst from what you've already got tonight. Give yourself a good night's sleep to sort it out."

  He sensibly gave in, sinking back in his chair. "Yes, you're right. But you must stay, I'll have Foster turn out your old room—"

  "No," I said, maybe a touch too sharpish. "I can't stay. I have reasons, good ones. I must ask you to trust me on this."

  His disappointment was almost like that of a child, but he quickly recovered himself. "Very well, of course I will respect your wishes."

  "That's all I want. I'll be able to explain more later."

  He visibly brightened. "Then you'll return here tomorrow?"

  "The day after. I mean night after. Tomorrow evening I've an appointment to meet someone."

  "May I ask who?"

  "Another friend I ran into in London. Doesn't know I was killed, and there's no need to let 'em in on the secret. Wants to do a little yarning and catch up on old times is all."

  "So you're not in hiding?"

  "Why should I?"

  "Well, because… oh, damn. I don't know. This is so strange."

  "Art, I've done nothing wrong, and I do nothing wrong so there's no reason for me to skulk around like a thief. I have an ordinary room at a respectable hotel, and keep to myself, which is pretty much how I've always dealt with things."

  "But don't you need a box to rest in and consecrated earth?"

  "I did trouble to pack along some earth in a shipping crate, but don't know if it's been consecrated or not."

  "Then you do need something of the grave with you."

  "Yes. I am its prisoner during the whole of the day, completely unconscious until the sun is gone. And that can be damned inconvenient, let me tell you."

  He made a helpless little gesture. "You speak of it all so normally."

  "Because for me it is normal. Now. But I've had months to get used to it, you've had but a few hours."

  "I'm not sure I ever shall."

  "You will. Sleep on it and I'll see you night after tomorrow."

  "What about Jack Seward? Are you going to see him?"

  "I plan't—"

  "And the professor? And the Harkers?"

  "Whoa, there and slow down. One at a time! You're not the only man in need of a rest. I'll get around to them all, but you must let me handle it my own way. If you should see them, you mustn't say anything about me."

  "Then I'd best play the hermit myself, especially where Jack is concerned. Once he sees me he'll know something's up. He can read people like a book, comes from dealing with all those lunatics."

  "So he's back running that place again?"

  "Yes. Keeps himself busy. Van Helsing looked after the asylum while Jack and I were in Transylvania, but things are as they ever were before. The professor is on a sabbatical from Amsterdam, though, and staying at Purfleet with Jack. They're working on some sort of paper together, I think. He doesn't talk about it, so I imagine it has to do with Dracula."

  "In what way?"

  "You'll have to ask them. I don't wish to know or be reminded. For myself, I would give anything to get through a single day without thinking of that monster and what he did to us all."

  "I feel the same. Truly I do." I meant it. Though in a strange way I'd forgiven Dracula for Lucy, Miss Mina, and even poor old Renfield, I could not let it go. The horrors of that time still clung to me.

  "Who will you speak to next?" he asked.

  "I was thinking Jack, but perhaps I should speak sooner with the professor. If I can convince him as I have you, then he will make things easier for the others. But…"

  "What? Tell me."

  "Look, it's been very hard on you tonight, much harder than I ever imagined. I don't wish to cast more sorrows on our friends. For me to reappear again, and bring up a load of old griefs they may have finally buried—"

  "Don't you dare think that! Yes, you've given me a hellish turn tonight, but I'm over it. Once they get past the shock, they will be overjoyed."

  "But will they accept me like this? Returned as an incarnation not unlike our worst enemy?"

  "Quincey, it won't matter. I'll make them see reason and so will you. We will make it all right for them, I promise. Just swear to me you won't go off without a word, I couldn't bear it!"

  "Very well. If you're behind me on this, then I'll see the business through."

  "Absolutely."

  How relieved I was to have my friend back. The gladness of the moment was sweet, but how long would it last? I went to his desk, drawing forth pen, ink, and paper and wrote a short note. Afte
r blotting, I gave it to Art.

  He read: " `Yes, I really was here, and all will be well, Quincey,' What means this?"

  "Just in case when you wake up and in the cold light of day think you had more brandy than was good for you."

  Then he laughed, a real one. Perhaps the first he'd enjoyed in months.

  Chapter Eleven

  Though things were easier between us, I chose to leave Art and find a sanctuary for myself in some deserted place, rather than reconsider his invitation to have my old room back. Ironically, there was no need for me to depart Ring at all, though I must appear to do so. When one is utterly helpless for hours at a time, one becomes very anxious in regard to securing complete privacy.

  As the servants were all long abed, Art ushered me down to the front door himself. He offered the use of his dog cart and horse, but I declined, saying I wanted to stretch my legs. He saw me off, standing in the doorway for a long time, as though still not quite believing I was back and reluctant to lose sight of me. But the curve of the drive took me away, and when that happened I struck off west over the property, heading for that stand of fir trees.

  My bag was where I'd left it, not that I was too worried it would walk off on its own. That retrieved, I turned my steps toward that old deserted stables in the near distance.

  The place was in a very bad state, with the roof bearing more holes than slate shingles. The brick walls were fairly solid, as was the stone floor. At one time it must have served very well as shelter, but not now. I found a possible sanctuary in an isolated corner stall. The roof over this part of the building would shield me from the sun, but it chafed not having a proper door to close. Suppose some playful child should chance across my inert body during the course of the day, or worse, one of Art's servants? A quick investigation of the hayloft also proved futile. The rotted wood floor there would not support my weight, and it was open to the sky. No, I would have to seek shelter elsewhere.