- Prologue

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

  I hesitated; for the life of me this was one time I just didn't know what to do. "Professor Van Helsing, there has been a mistake. I am not what you think—"

  "Trouble this house no more, depart!"

  "Will you calm down and hear me out? I'm not leaving until we've talked. Where's Art?"

  "In a safe place." If he was nonplused at my lack of response to his orders, he didn't show it. "You will never harm him, this I have sworn."

  "What are you on about?"

  "Depart in the name of God!" Then he repeated those same words in Latin, making the sign of the cross.

  "When I'm damned good and ready! Professor, I am not in the least like Dracula, so have the kindness to give me a listen before you pop a blood vessel."

  "Your words are the devil's lies."

  This wasn't going to go well, not unless I could get his attention. Right now he was too wound up to hear anything. "If that were so, then I'd not be able to do this…" I stepped forward and gently closed my hand over the Host.

  That struck him speechless. For good measure I began saying the Lord's Prayer as loud as I could.

  "Blasphemy!" he whispered, going white with shock. He released the Host and backed toward the door.

  I hurried to get behind him and closed it with a bang, turning the key with my free hand. There was some commotion going on down the hall. The maid's cries must have drawn a crowd.

  "Professor, if I was what you think me to be, I'd be howling in pain now. Instead I stand before you with this—" I held up the Wafer. For good measure I kissed it. "Does that not make you the least bit curious to find out why?"

  "I will have no trade in your lies and tricks, be gone, image of our dear friend."

  "No!"

  And so we stood at an impasse, me trying to make him see sense and him with his eyes squeezed shut against it.

  I stepped forward, holding the Wafer toward him as he had done to me. "Doesn't this prove that I am not an evil thing?"

  He snorted and gestured at the mirror that overlooked the room. As before with Art, it showed the professor to be alone. "Soulless wretch. You mesmerize, you deceive us, you make what we see in our minds, and we believe the false words. You are the falsest of the false, using the form of poor Quincey Morris to trick our better nature. I know you, devil. I am not to believe the hell's game you try to play. Depart."

  Well, if he thought I was already doing some hypnotizing, then perhaps I should not disappoint him. "Professor, I want you to listen to me. Listen very closely to my words…"

  I got a reaction, but not the one I expected. Instead of his eyes glazing, he came all over in a rage. He cast about, spied a Bible on a table, and grabbed it up, holding it out. It must have turned into straw-plucking time for him. How he thought that might help when the Host Itself failed I could not imagine, but two could play at this.

  I took out my crucifix from beneath my clothes and made sure he saw it.

  He looked baffled, but the anger returned to him quick enough. "Deceiver!"

  "Van Helsing, for God's sake settle down! Believe what your eyes tell you. I am the same Quincey Morris you knew before. Open up your mind, you hard-headed Dutchman, and think!"

  He got quiet a minute and did some thinking, or perhaps it was more like calculation. "If you are the true Quincey Morris, you would not hold me here a prisoner."

  "You're no prisoner, I just want some privacy. What has happened? Where's Art? What did he tell you about me that got you so het up?"

  "You exist, that is what hets me up."

  "But you think I'm like Dracula?"

  "A young one, with not so many sins upon your head, so the holy things do not work as they should."

  "They should all work equally well no matter what. They worked well enough on poor Lucy." What bitter words those were to speak.

  "Because she was defiled from the hurting of the children."

  "But—oh, never mind. Use your common sense, Professor. All the things you told us about vampires means that this should send me running for the hills. But here I am with no harm done. If this stuff doesn't affect me, it means I am not anyone you need fear."

  "I do not fear you. I have the sorry for you, and swear I will end your imprisoned soul's suffering as soon as may be."

  "Like hell you will!" But I knew he would do just that unless I could turn him aside. "My soul is the same as it ever was, and if you can think of a way for me to prove it to you, then I'll take any test you care to hand out. I've tried saying the Lord's Prayer, you want me to sing a hymn? That you may regret as I've no voice for it. I'll march into church and read whatever Bible passage you please or—"

  "Stop!"

  I stopped. And waited. "Well?"

  Anger still clouded his face. "Your games will not work on me, vampire. Be gone and trouble us not."

  "Just what in tarnation did Art tell you?"

  "You deceived Arthur, for he wants to believe. The tricks you did to gain his trust will not work on me."

  "How did he even come to tell you? I swore him to silence." That's what really troubled. Art had ever been a man of his word.

  "Knowledge is power, and I will not empower you more. Be gone."

  "Where is he? Get him up here—"

  A frantic banging at the door and rattling of the knob interrupted him.

  "Professor? Are you there?" With a thrill I recognized Jack Seward's voice.

  "Yes!" cried the professor. "And so is he! He has locked us in."

  I yelled louder. "Jack? It's me, Quincey. I'll let you in if you'll talk some sense into this—"

  "Quincey? Oh, God." Even muffled by the intervening door I heard the pain in his voice. "Then it is true."

  More banging on the door, then he tried the lock. "Professor, I can't open it, the key is still in it on your side."

  "Jack? Did you hear me?"

  "Listen to him not!"

  "Professor!"

  We were all shouting at once and not any of us doing a damn bit of good to straighten out the situation. It would have been laughable but for the fact that Van Helsing posed a truly serious threat. If he came across me during the day he would show no mercy. Indeed, he thought putting a stake through my heart to be the height of compassion. He might even get Art to do his dirty work for him again.

  I slammed the flat of my hand against the door, which made a hellish racket and brought a pause to theirs. "Jack Seward!"

  Blessed silence for a moment as I glared at the professor, daring him to speak again. He held his peace, but still simmered hot.

  I tried again. "Jack?"

  "Yes? What do you want?"

  "For you to calm down and hear me out, dammit. The professor is too set in his ways to listen, I hope you will be… be more obliging."

  "If you are truly Quincey, then open this door."

  "I am Quincey, and I'll open the door, but I want you to keep a cool head when I do."

  He made no reply. Maybe he was thinking it over, not wanting to make a promise he couldn't keep, but I was willing to trust him over my present company. Besides, I was getting almighty tired of looking at Van Helsing's scowl.

  I turned the key and moved quickly to the side to allow the door a clear swing. In my hand I still held the Host, and my crucifix yet hung from my neck. Such was the sight greeting Jack Seward when he cautiously entered the room.

  He looked older, more careworn. How that last adventure of ours had taken its toll on us. He was dressed in evening clothes, come to Ring with the professor for one of Art's excellent dinners.

  "Quincey?" His lips trembled.

  I nodded. "It is I, as you can see. You see this, too?" I lifted the Host and his eyes widened.

  "Impossible!" he whispered.

  Van Helsing stepped between us. "It is a lie, friend John. Do not let him beguile you as he did Arthur."

  My patience was thin as it could get, and it made me rude to the point of bellowing. "Professor, shut the hell up and let the man make up his own mind!"<
br />
  The explosion was sufficient to hush him a moment. I turned to Jack. "Now look at me, for God's sake! If you believe in the power of this Wafer, then you must believe that I am harmless."

  "I—I…"

  "Jack, what has happened? Did Art tell you about my visit?"

  He shook his head. "Not in so many words."

  "What, then? Mind reading? I asked him to keep quiet to prevent everyone throwing six kinds of conniption fits and going off in all directions. Where is he?"

  "Tell him not!" said the professor.

  Jack stood flatfooted, and from the agonized look on his face he didn't know which way to jump. I hated putting him in such a fix. It was hard enough on him to have to deal with my return from the grave, let alone choosing sides.

  "All right," I said. "Never you mind, let's just get this saddle over the horse first, then worry about where to ride. The professor thinks I've come back from hell itself, but as you can see that's not a place I've been to yet. He doesn't—"

  "Do not let him fool you, friend John. In all other things have you not trusted me? For the sake of your soul—"

  I cut him off again. "Professor, I've seen men shot dead for less lip than what you're flapping at me now. If you want to end up with your head thumping the floor like a rubber ball, you just keep interrupting. How can you look at me and not—no, just forget it. Your mind's all made up. You know you're the smartest man in the world when it comes to vampires. Jack…" I appealed to my friend. "You gonna believe your own eyes or not?"

  He made one mirthless laugh. "I can believe my ears. Only Quincey P. Morris of Texas would speak like that. Professor, it is clear to me that he's not like poor Lucy. She was dreadfully changed, turned into that… that monster. Quincey is the same as ever he was."

  The professor was reproachful. "Did not Lucy tempt Arthur with the bond of their love? So does this devil tempt you with the memory of old friendship."

  "I can't believe that. That thing we saw in the graveyard filled me with horror and disgust. I have no such feeling now. Let us hear him out. There may be truth to Art's rav—to what Art said."

  "What's wrong with Art that he's not here?" I demanded. "Did he take sick?"

  "He's not… feeling well." Jack wouldn't meet my eye.

  "What do you mean?"

  "He's been under a great strain these months. It finally overburdened him, and he collapsed."

  "But he was fine the other night! When I left he was cheerful and chipper as ever."

  "I'm afraid that your visit might well have been the very thing that sent him over."

  "How can that be? If anything he was—take me to him, I must see for myself how he's doing."

  "Quincey, he's in no fit state for visitors. We think he's fallen into a raving fit of brain fever, and there's nothing to be done until he pulls himself out of it."

  My sails ran out of wind. I backed off a little. "That doesn't sound right. Art can get nerved up about some things, but when the hammer falls, he's more steady than any anvil."

  "This time the anvil broke, not the hammer."

  "Just how bad off is he?"

  "I can't say, not without more—"

  "Enough!" snapped Van Helsing. "Do you dice with the devil for your friend?"

  Jack was shocked. "Really, sir!"

  "Have done with this. He uses your affection against you."

  "It seems to me that he's showing a great concern for Art. What possible evil motive can he have in that?"

  "One you may perceive not as yet, but in time he would all to his favor turn."

  "Forgive me, Professor, no one holds you in greater esteem than I, but that is utter nonsense."

  "Hold your horses," I said. "Both of you stop before you say too much you don't mean. We were all friends together once, and may be so again—"

  Van Helsing gave a derisive snort.

  "But that won't happen if we're all fighting like a pack of coyotes over who howls last. Nothing good ever came of such squabbling. Jack, you got a job ahead of you convincing him to listen, but don't you ever forget how far you two go back. Professor, you'll think what you want about me and toss common sense out the window, but remember the respect you've always given Jack not only as a friend but as a colleague. He just might know what he's talking about."

  Jack took it well enough, but none of this sat too well with Van Helsing. His face went so red I thought steam would blow from his ears. I could not understand why he was being so pigheaded. He was a smart man, but here he was, just paces away from me, and absolutely refusing to accept what his eyes told him.

  "Professor…" began Jack.

  "Nein! This no more will I hear. No more either should you hear. Even this little of his lying words much damage has done. You doubt me, but you will see. You must! But pray God that none others shall die by his hand while you swim in the doubting sea."

  "Who's died?" I wanted to know.

  "Those wretches from which you slake your unholy thirst, devil."

  "Oh, good God! Didn't Art tell you I only ever feed from animals?"

  "You do?" asked Jack, surprised. "But I thought—"

  "I know what you thought, but you can cut that idea from the herd. Jack, I am a different breed from Dracula. If he was a war-horse in full armor, then I'm a no more than a Sunday riding pony."

  "But this is fascinating. Professor, there is sense in this! We can—"

  But Van Helsing had given up on talk. He'd sidled over to a wall display of Comanche war lances Art had acquired while in Texas. He grabbed one up, and came at me. Jack let out with a cry and jumped on him, trying to take it away. I had enough presence of mind to put down the Host before stepping in as well. The three of us danced this way and that, each trying to gain control of the lance, all grunting and cursing like mad.

  I managed to get a solid grip on the professor's wrists and pulled his hands off; Jack staggered away in startled triumph, holding the lance high. It had a stone head bound to it, the edges chipped wickedly sharp, and could have sliced any of us open as easily as a modern metal blade.

  Van Helsing and I wrestled around; he shouted a lot of words that were far outside my very narrow German vocabulary. I used some choice American terms as I struggled to get behind him and pull his elbows together. My strength was greater, but I was trying to avoid injuring him. He wasn't making any of this easy on himself.

  "Hold still, carn-sarn it, or I'll hog-tie you with the curtain rope!"

  Another stream of bad-tempered German or Dutch. His collar popped open, his shirt pulled nearly out of his trousers, and his jalousies had snapped clear of their buttons, threatening the proper placement of those trousers.

  "Quincey! Professor! Stop it! Stop this instant!" Jack hovered just out of reach of the struggle, clutching the lance.

  I was willing to leave off, but Van Helsing was stubborn, fighting like his life depended on it. Sooner or later he'd tire out, but I worried for his heart lasting the course.

  Jack Seward quit shouting and took action. He went to the desk where stood a vase of greenhouse flowers next to Lucy's photograph. He tore the flowers clear and dashed the water square into his former teacher's face. I got a good splashing as well, but it was worth it. The professor sputtered and ceased to struggle. I dragged him over to a chair by the fire and pushed him down onto it.

  "Damn, Jack," I said, ineffectually swabbing my face with a handkerchief. From the open doorway I heard a nervous titter. The maid, along with what seemed to be most of the household staff was there, the whole herd clustered close together to watch. I scowled and slammed the door in their faces. "Now we will be the talk of the county. I hope your reputation can stand it."

  Jack stared at me, mouth opened, then snapped it shut and put the lance back up on the wall. "My God!" he said, rounding on us. "Professor, what in heaven's name were you thinking?"

  Van Helsing—for once—had nothing to say for himself. He glared defiance, after he rubbed the water from his eyes.

  I
put some distance between us, going over to Jack. He seemed to have caught his breath, but nothing more; there was a lost look to him. Well did I understand the feeling. I clapped a hand on his shoulder.

  "It'll be all right, old partner, some things just take a passel of time to get through."

  He gave me a sharp eye, searching my features, for what I could not say. I gave him a wink, grinning. Then all of a sudden, his face twisted, and he threw his arms about me in a bear's hug. "It is you!"

  "None other, I swear," I said, pounding his back and laughing. Relief surged over me. My other friend had returned.

  "But how? Did Dracula—" He pulled away to check my face again.

  "No, he's got nothing to do with it. Didn't Art tell you?"

  "He was in no condition. He babbled bits and pieces, enough to put the wind up myself and the professor. He took charge and had the servants here running about rubbing garlic on all the windows."

  I shook my head. "Guess I can't blame him, seeing the confines of his experience. You have a tangle with a vampire as wicked as Dracula, it kind of colors your view. But as God is my witness, Jack, I am not like him."

  "Then what are you? And how did you come to be this way? I've a thousand questions."

  "So did Art. Where is he? No, don't answer, it might set him off again." I gestured toward Van Helsing, but his chair was empty, the study door just closing. Jack started after him, but I held him back. "Where will he go?"

  "Back to the asylum, I expect. I hope he'll speak to me again. Everything just got so out of control…"

  "You did right, but he's gonna be mighty angry. He's not the kind to forgive too quick, if at all, and now he may think you've gone over to the devil's own side."

  He groaned. "What am I to do?"

  "I don't rightly know, but these things have a way of working out. After he's cooled down some you'll be able to talk to him. He might not listen to you, though. He sure as hell wasn't hearing me."

  "But why? He's the most logical reasoner I've ever known."

  "Mend your fence first, and figure the rest out later. What about Art? Did you take him to the asylum?" I was only making a guess, but it was a good one.

  Jack went very sober. "Not yet, but we plan to; it's the best place for me to care for him. He's still here in the house."