A Cautionary Tale for Young Vampires

by G. D. Falksen

  She said this last bit innocently, but with just enough inflection to catch the attention of someone looking for a reason to take interest. Studying Robert, she saw an almost imperceptible twitch of the muscles in his face.

  He knows something, she thought. Something about the—

  Varanus glanced past Robert and saw Korbinian standing there, slowly shaking his head.

  “Be careful, liebchen,” he said. “You have worked so hard to close that door. Do you truly wish to open it again so soon?”

  Varanus took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. Korbinian was right. She could not face her memories of that place, nor the hideous deductions that it inspired. Not yet. Not now.

  Later, she thought. Soon. But later.

  “Cousin Robert,” she said, quickly turning her thoughts to her reason for looking for him, “I would like to speak to you. It is on a matter of some delicacy.”

  “Oh?” Robert asked.

  He looked down the length of the gallery in both directions and leaned over the balcony to see that there was no one within earshot. Varanus did the same. At the moment it was not a topic for the rest of the house to hear.

  Robert looked at her and nodded, saying, “Very well, we are alone. What troubles you, cousin?”

  “It is regarding your son,” Varanus said.

  “My son?” Robert asked. “Have you reconsidered my offer of a marriage between our children? A marriage between Edward and…well, do you have a daughter? You still have not told me.”

  “No, not regarding Edward,” Varanus replied.

  Robert looked very surprised.

  “Richard?” he asked. “What about Richard? That is to say, he’s already married. We cannot form an alliance there.”

  “Indeed,” Varanus said, frowning. “It is precisely Richard’s marriage that troubles me. Or more specifically, his conduct within his marriage.”

  “What?”

  “Robert,” Varanus said, “I have been given reason to believe that Richard behaves as a tyrant to his wife.”

  “A tyrant?” Robert asked. “What in God’s name are you talking about?”

  “He…mistreats her,” Varanus said, searching for the proper word. “He abuses her, abuses his authority over her. I know that he belittles and confines her. She may be nervous by nature, but what I have seen of her these past weeks is not natural. Richard terrifies her. And I believe that he does it intentionally, as a method of control. I suspect he even beats her and subjects her to wanton cruelty, though I have not seen the proof of it…yet.”

  Robert was silent for a time, first looking at her, then looking away. That alone told Varanus that he knew of his son’s conduct, and it told her that she was correct in her suspicions.

  After a little while, Robert shook his head and said:

  “I fear, cousin, that you do not understand what you speak of. Richard may be a little forceful with poor Anne, but he manages her as a master ought to.”

  He ‘manages her’? Varanus thought, growing angry. As a ‘master ought to’? Is she a dog, to be spoken of in such a way?

  “I am surprised at you, cousin,” she said.

  “And I at you,” Robert interjected. “I had thought that you might understand such things, but I see that I was mistaken. Your education has been sorely lacking, that is clear to me.”

  Varanus felt her anger grow stronger, filling her with heat.

  “I understand,” she said, speaking with a measured tone, “that it is a husband’s right to discipline his wife and children—though why it is not a wife’s right to discipline her husband, I fear I shall never understand. But I also know that wanton cruelty is against the law! And that is precisely what is happening in your house. Anne is being mistreated beyond any bounds of ‘paternal authority’, and I am insulted by it.”

  “You?” Robert asked. “Insulted?”

  He sounded genuinely amazed. How could he imagine that she would not take offense at such a thing? Did he think that she would so callously dismiss the abuse of another human being?

  “She is a member of our family,” Varanus said. “And she is being mistreated by my kinsman! Do you not feel the shame that this brings upon us? By his conduct, your son is an insult to our very name! I would never permit my son to treat a woman in such a way, and I am disgusted to find you so easily dismissing it in your own. For a man to beat a woman, for a husband to beat his wife, is cowardice and weakness. It is the craven act of a man who deserves not even to be called a man, and you treat it as if it were nothing!”

  Robert’s face fell into a scowl, and he looked away. His fingers were clenched into a fist, and he breathed heavily, his tone and his very stance proclaiming almost unbridled rage. Varanus held her position, but she adjusted her feet and made ready to defend herself in case Richard’s inclinations had been inherited from his father.

  If that were the case, Robert would find her altogether less pliable by force than his daughter-in-law.

  But Robert did not try to strike her. When he turned back to her, it was with a calmer expression, though his eyes still spoke of anger.

  “You do not understand, Cousin Babette,” he said. “Anne is not worthy of such consideration. She is Richard’s, and he may do with her as he pleases, and that is both right and proper.”

  “Oh, I see,” Varanus said. “Because she is a woman and he is her husband, he may render corporal punishment whenever it suits him, is that it?”

  “It is not so simple—” Robert began.

  Varanus cut him off:

  “So by your estimation, my husband should have every right to beat me, or belittle me, or lock me away in a cupboard for hours on end if it suited him. Yes?”

  “No!” Robert snapped in anger. “If your husband dared raise a hand against you, I would be the first to cut it off!”

  “Why?” Varanus demanded. “I am a woman. He is my husband. How is it different from Richard and Anne?”

  “Because you are a Varanus!” Robert answered. “Because you are of our blood! And that makes you by your very nature greater beyond estimation than your husband, be he prince or peasant!” He took a deep breath and said, more calmly, “But Anne is not of our blood. She is not a Varanus, or a Wodesley, or a Fairfax, or any of the rest! She is common.”

  “’Common’?” Varanus asked. “What do you mean, ‘common’? She is second cousin to an earl!”

  Robert shook his head and said, “I cannot and will not explain it to you. You should have been told by your grandfather ages ago, and you were not. And it is not my place to improve your education.”

  Varanus’s mouth twitched. There it was again, that nagging twitter of an idea, burrowing its way out of that hidden place in her mind, whispering to her all manner of deductions and inferences that she could not allow herself to think.…

  “Alas, my grandfather is gone,” she said. “He can hardly explain this great matter to me now. Perhaps, as one of my yet-living relations, it is your place to tell me.”

  Robert paused and took a few deep breaths.

  “Perhaps,” he said. “Perhaps it is. I shall think on it over the night and give you my answer tomorrow. But in exchange, I want something from you.”

  “What?” Varanus asked.

  “Cousin William’s estate,” Robert said.

  “No,” Varanus answered, her tone demonstrating that she was immobile on the matter.

  “The estate to be willed to me or my heir after your death,” Robert said, adamantly. “Either that, or you will agree to marry your son or daughter to one of my children, and you will bestow the property on their descendants, who will take the Varanus name. These are my terms. Think on them tonight, and tomorrow give me your answer.”

  “Very well,” Varanus said. “I will think on it. But you ask much, cousin, and what you offer is…well, it is unproven.”

  Robert sighed and said, “That is my offer, Cousin Babette. Though I am still uncertain if I should even make it.” There was a pause and he added, so
mewhat brusquely, “I think we should speak no more about this today, cousin. I will see you at dinner.”

  Varanus saw that there was no point in arguing about it, so she merely nodded and said, “Dinner, then.”

  Robert nodded in reply and turned to depart the gallery. As he went, Varanus called after him, “Cousin, a question.”

  Robert paused and turned back.

  “Yes?” he asked.

  “Are you acquainted with the des Louveteaux family of Normandy?” Varanus asked.

  Robert’s eye twitched a little. Yes, Varanus thought, he knows of them. And he is troubled by my mention of them. Though why he might be troubled was unknown to her, and it only served to fuel her suspicions.

  “No,” Robert said, a little hastily, “I fear I am not familiar with them. French, I assume.”

  “Of course,” Varanus said. “They were my grandfather’s neighbors. Their property adjoins my own…adjoins the property you find it so important to possess. I wonder if you would wish to have it after meeting them. They are most peculiar.”

  “Well,” Robert said, rallying himself and putting on a charming smile, “that is to be expected of the French.”

  Varanus returned the smile and said, “Of course. Until dinner, cousin.”

  “Until dinner,” Robert said.

  Varanus let him turn to leave before calling to him again, forcing him to turn back again at her command:

  “Oh…and, Cousin.…”

  Robert turned and looked at her.

  “What?” he asked.

  Varanus looked him in the eyes and said, authority clear in her voice:

  “Rein in your son. If not for the sake of Anne, then for the dignity of our house.”

  Robert looked off to the side, his jaw working behind his closed mouth. He did not speak in reply, but he slowly nodded before turning and vanishing down the passage.

  Varanus smiled a little to herself. She might not have to murder Richard after all.

  Might not.

  * * * *

  That evening, after all had retired to bed, Varanus sat in the library reading. She had turned the lights down low to create the illusion that the room was empty, in the hopes that it would prevent her from being disturbed. With her eyesight, even the dim light was sufficient for reading.

  Ekaterine had insisted on staying with her—while reading a collection of stories, in particular something rather tawdry and absurd called Carmilla. Apparently it was about a vampire, and Ekaterine found it remarkably amusing.

  Around midnight, Varanus heard a creak on the stair in the main hall, a short distance from the library. It was not loud enough for Ekaterine to hear, but she did notice that Varanus had sensed something and looked up from her book.

  “What is it?” she whispered to Varanus.

  “Someone’s about,” Varanus answered, speaking softly. “And they’re trying to be quiet.”

  “Hardly a surprise given the hour,” Ekaterine said.

  Varanus rose from her chair and went to the door. Looking out, she had a clear view of the hall. To her astonishment, she saw Robert walk past, fully dressed, shrouded in a dark Inverness cape, and carrying a lantern.

  What was Robert doing walking about the house at such an hour? And why was he dressed for travel but heading away from the front door? It was all rather mad.

  So bewildered was Varanus that she went out into the hall to be sure of what she was seeing, but there was Robert, walking toward the back of the house. She hurried back into the library and motioned for Ekaterine to follow. Ekaterine raised an eyebrow and looked at her as if to ask, “What is it?”

  “Come on!” Varanus mouthed, waving all the more.

  Ekaterine rose quickly and hurried to her side.

  “What is it?” she asked aloud.

  Varanus took her by the hand and led her into the hall in time to see Robert receding into the passage that led to the cellar. They followed quickly but quietly, hurrying across the hall and pausing by the doorway. Varanus chanced a look and saw the door to the cellar slowly closing.

  “What is he doing?” Ekaterine murmured.

  “Clearly he is fetching a bottle of wine with his raincoat on,” Varanus replied.

  She slowly eased the door open and waited until the light of Robert’s lantern had faded into shadow before she risked descending into the cellar. The room was old and musty, probably dating back even before the building of the house to the castle that had once stood on the same spot. It was built of heavy stone, and the ceiling was made of its own arched vaults, independent of the wooden floor above it.

  Varanus followed the light of Robert’s lantern where it hinted at passing among the rows and rows of wine racks and barrels. She advanced cautiously, Ekaterine just behind her, and followed Robert to the far end of the cellar.

  They watched from the shadows as Robert paused by one of the walls and looked back over his shoulder. He even sniffed the air for some reason, though it seemed he smelled nothing. Varanus was not surprised: among the must and mildew, she could hardly smell anything either.

  Then, assured that he had not been followed, Robert turned and began feeling his way along the wall.

  “He’s looking for a secret passage,” Ekaterine whispered.

  “Don’t be silly,” Varanus replied. “Ever since you read The Castle of Otranto, it’s been all ‘secret passages’, ‘ghosts’, and ‘giant helmets’ with you.”

  Turning her attention back to Robert, she saw him feel about the wall for a few moments more before pressing his hand against one of the stones. Having done so, Robert pulled on a nearby wine rack, which swung out from the wall as if on hinges. Behind it stood a doorway framed in brick that led into darkness.

  Varanus sighed at the sight and slowly lowered her face into the palm of her hand.

  “See?” Ekaterine asked excitedly, just as Varanus had known she would. Then, teasingly, she added, “I’ll bet there’s a giant helmet next. It will probably crush Richard to death, and then we can all go home for tea and light refreshment.”

  “Oh, hush,” Varanus told her.

  Varanus waited until Robert had closed the door again before crossing the room. The cellar was unlit, but Varanus had already measured out her path. She crossed to the wall, leading Ekaterine behind her, and pressed the wall stones in the area she had seen Robert examining. In due course, she felt one of the stones slide inward, and there was a click. She reached out with her other hand, feeling for the wine rack, and swung it open.

  Luck was with them, and Varanus saw Robert’s light traveling away some distance ahead. Varanus closed the door, and she and Ekaterine continued on through the dark, using Robert’s lantern to mark their path. Once or twice Robert paused and looked back, but he was far enough away that he could not see them.

  Presently the tunnel came to the crossroads beneath the church. It was as Varanus had expected: all the old buildings of Blackmoor were linked by the tunnels, even the manor house. Robert continued on toward the priory, along the same route that Varanus and Ekaterine had taken a few days before. But as he neared the priory crypt, Robert turned down a side passage, one of the many that Varanus had left unexplored.

  This passage meandered along for a while until it finally opened out onto the moor. Varanus waited for Robert to leave before she ventured out into the night. She took a moment to look back at the tunnel and found that it had completely vanished behind an outcropping of rock.

  Clever, she thought.

  It took only a few moments for her to get her bearings. To her astonishment, she realized that they had traveled all the way to the hill of standing stones. She looked up to confirm her suspicions and saw the outline of the barrow mound silhouetted against the sky.

  Robert had already climbed the hill and now stood amid the stones, near a small fire that someone had lit before the barrow entrance. Varanus took Ekaterine’s hand and led her up the path. It was tricky going in the dark, but they had both managed in more difficult ter
rain. They could handle a little wet grass.

  As Varanus reached the top, she spotted two men standing around the fire. Robert stood to the left, his profile presented to Varanus. To the right stood a great big man who lingered in the shadows away from the fire. His back was to Varanus, and she could make out little about him but his tremendous size, bushy side-whiskers, top hat, and the suggestion of fine clothes. There was a peculiar smell about him as well, but it taunted Varanus with both its familiarity and foreignness.

  Robert looked the stranger up and down out of the corner of his eye, as if very uncomfortable to be in his presence. But when the stranger looked toward him, Robert fixed his eyes forward into the fire and said nothing.

  Presently Varanus saw the man called Silas walk out of the barrow and into the light of the fire. He had blood on his hands and all over the front of his clothes. Fresh blood. Varanus could smell it.

  “The Master is comin’, my lords,” he said. “Just eatin’, ’e is.”

  “Very good, Silas,” Robert said.

  Silas said nothing further but took his place beside the fire, his shoulders hunched and his head downcast.

  Varanus and Ekaterine exchanged looks in the darkness. It was all very peculiar, and Varanus felt a sense of dreadful anticipation come over her.

  Presently, a shape emerged from the mouth of the barrow. It was difficult to make out in the poor light, but after a few moments Varanus had no doubts. The shape was dark and massive, hunched over as if on all fours, though most of its tremendous body remained hidden within the barrow. But the dark and matted fur, the pale eyes, and the flash of teeth glinting in the light were all too familiar to Varanus.

  At her side, Ekaterine stiffened and whispered, “My God. Is it…?”

  “One of the beasts,” Varanus replied.

  “The same as in Georgia,” Ekaterine said softly.