The Nosferatu Scroll cb-4

by James Becker

  Once she’d completed what Marco had told her to do with the genealogy, just confirming the link, the bloodline, which existed between Nicodema Diluca and the so-called Vampire Princess, she’d started working on the next page. But she hadn’t needed to translate the initial section, because within a few minutes she’d realized that it was almost exactly the same as the Latin she’d already seen in the leather-bound diary, and had presumably been copied from the same source. This part of the scroll appeared to be essentially an introduction to the topic and included the attempt to justify the ridiculous claims that the author had made and which Angela had already translated.

  But the second section of the manuscript was highly specific about vampires. It explained at some length about the way vampires were supposed to live and, according to the unidentified author, the reality was a far cry from the romantic images of suave, well-dressed vampires of the twentieth century drinking the blood of their willing victims. Clearly, none of the more contemporary writers had referred to this text or to any other ancient source documents that might have contained similar descriptions.

  According to this treatise, vampires were both cannibalistic — which was hardly a surprise, given that their favourite diet was supposed to be blood drunk from the necks of nubile young girls — and scavengers. In fact, according to the translated text, the favourite hunting grounds of vampires were graveyards, where they would break into the tombs of recent burials and feast on the decaying flesh of the bodies they found there. The only inviolate rule was that the bodies of former vampires — the discarded hosts, as it were — were considered to be noble, and were never to be consumed.

  The most reliable way to identify a vampire, the author of the text asserted, was by the smell of rotting meat which they invariably exuded, and which normally caused them to be shunned by mere mortals. But this, the author then explained, was a small price for the vampire to pay in exchange for the priceless gift of eternal life.

  As she finished translating this particular sentence, Angela shuddered at her recollection of the hooded man and the appalling smell that seemed to surround him like a miasma. Whoever he was, he was clearly the leader of this group of deranged men, and had presumably decided to make himself seem as much like an authentic vampire as he could. She guessed that somewhere under his black robe he was carrying a piece of decaying meat to produce the odour she had smelt.

  She shook her head and returned to the translation.

  The next few sentences dealt with the misguided and usually futile attempts to kill vampires, attempts that the text stated were frequently mounted by people who simply failed to appreciate the inherent nobility of the vampire. Then the only guaranteed ways by which the death of a vampire might be achieved were specified in some detail. The most effective method was for the heart of the creature to be removed from the body and buried separately — as far away from the vampire as possible.

  Decapitation also worked, but driving a wooden stake through the heart was, in the opinion of the author, useless because the heart remained in place, and the heart of a vampire was so powerful that nothing short of its removal from the body would guarantee death. Similar derision was reserved for the idea of placing some object — a brick or a length of timber — in the mouth of the vampire, and the author cited two cases that he had known of personally where a body had been buried with a brick driven into the jaw, and where the vampire had risen effortlessly from the grave after biting through the offending object. Again, he failed to be specific about where and when these alleged events were supposed to have occurred.

  What bothered Angela the most about the text was the author’s matter-of-fact acceptance of the existence of vampires. From the tone of his descriptions, he could have been talking about any natural phenomenon with which he would have expected most of his readers to be familiar. It was as if, at the time the author was writing, vampires were regular and accepted members of society who simply lived very different lives to most of the people around them.

  Angela found such an attitude impossible to accept, and she repeatedly checked the text for any sign that the author was being less than completely serious. But there was no indication that this was the case. Whoever had created the original text was apparently absolutely factual in what he was describing — or, at least, he appeared to believe he was being absolutely factual. He was certainly convinced of the reality of the vampire as a living and breathing — albeit undead — member of the society in which he lived.

  Again, Angela wished she had some idea who the author had been, and where and in which period he’d lived. She was still certain, from the Latin syntax, that the time period was roughly mediaeval, but beyond that she hadn’t been able to pin it down.

  She read the English translation she had prepared for a second time, then held it up to Marco, who walked over to the desk and took it from her with a nod.

  Then she sighed deeply, and read the first sentence of the Latin text that formed the third part of the treatise written on the scroll: the section of the document which she now understood contained detailed instructions on how anyone who wished to do so could become a vampire themselves.

  59

  Bronson cut the motor as he approached the entrance to the inlet. There was, he realized, no point in trying to sneak ashore. The island was too open to make any sort of covert approach feasible, so he allowed the boat to coast gently forward until it just nudged the end of the jetty, then stepped ashore, tying the rope around the heavy chain that barred the entrance to the inlet. As he did so, he noted that the chain itself was rusty, as was the padlock that secured it, and for the first time since he’d followed the two men, a scintilla of doubt entered his mind. It didn’t look to him as if anyone had unlocked the padlock or moved the chain for quite a long time, otherwise at least some of the rust would have flaked off.

  He looked at the launch that was secured to the jetty. The water was quite clear and he could see the curve of the hull where it vanished beneath the surface. The dark paintwork was liberally covered in marine growth, which suggested that the boat had been sitting there for some time — boats that were used regularly tended to have much cleaner hulls.

  But that, of course, might also mean that the owner tended to commute by helicopter. It was an alternative explanation, but didn’t do much to quell the doubts that were now nagging at him. The island really did look deserted.

  He took out the Browning semi-automatic, removed the magazine and checked it, then replaced it in the pistol, pulled back the slide to chamber a round and cock the hammer, and set the safety catch. Then he walked slowly along the gravel path that led from the jetty and past the helicopter landing-pad to the house, looking all around him all the time as he did so.

  He didn’t ring the bell, just pressed his ear to the wooden front door and listened. There was absolutely no sound from inside the property. With the pistol held ready in his right hand, he walked all the way around the house, checking each window as he went, and listening at both of the other doors. Finally he accepted the sickening truth: he’d got the wrong island.

  He couldn’t understand it. This was definitely the place where he’d seen the two men in the blue boat disappear; although the restricted size of the inlet and the state of the chain that barred it suggested that the boat couldn’t have been tied up at the jetty.

  At that moment, his mobile phone rang. It was an Italian number, and when he pressed the key to answer it, he wasn’t entirely surprised to hear the cool and indifferent voice of Inspector Bianchi in his ear.

  ‘I did as you requested, Signor Bronson,’ he said. ‘I sent a launch to the island where you think your wife is being held, and the officers found absolutely nothing. There was nobody on the island, and the house is shuttered and barred. All you’ve achieved is to waste valuable police time, which is an offence in Italy just as, I believe, it is an offence in Britain.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Bronson said. There really wasn’t anything else he could sa
y. ‘I was certain that you would find her there.’

  ‘Well, we didn’t, and I suggest that now you stop interfering and leave the business of investigating this crime to the professionals.’

  And with this, the phone went dead. Bronson looked at it for a moment, then slipped it back into his pocket. The one thing he wasn’t going to do was stop looking for Angela.

  He replayed the sequence of events in his mind. He visualized the pursuit across the lagoon, and his decision to watch from the smaller island. He’d seen the blue boat slow down and then disappear from view. Then he remembered something else: there had been several other craft in the area, buzzing around the islands. Perhaps the men he’d been following, who’d clearly been checking around them as they approached the island — he remembered seeing them do this — had simply stopped the boat beside the chained-off inlet and waited there for a few minutes until the other tourist boats had cleared the area. And then they would have continued their journey, careful not to let anybody see their final destination.

  Bronson groaned as the realization struck home. If these men were part of the gang responsible for the deaths of half a dozen young women in Venice, their caution was merited. The only encouraging fact was that there were so few islands any further south: their hideaway had to be somewhere nearby.

  All he had to do now was find it.

  60

  Angela had thought that the second section of the Latin treatise was bizarre enough, but the contents of the third and final part of the text were shockingly brutal.

  It began simply enough with a declaration that it was possible for anyone who so wished to join the ranks of the ‘favoured immortals’, as it described vampires. But, the author cautioned, the process was lengthy and required the utmost dedication and commitment. As she translated the next few lines, Angela realized that dedication and commitment were only a part of it. The aspiring vampire also had to be prepared to become a genealogist, a grave robber and, finally and most shockingly of all, a rapist and murderer.

  First, she read, it was essential to identify one of the most important of the vampire families. That concept seemed bizarre enough on its own. It suggested that vampires could breed just like normal people, and sparked a whole new line of thought for Angela. Would it be enough, she wondered, if just one parent was a vampire? Would that be sufficient to convey immortality and unpleasant dietary requirements on the children? Or did it have to be both parents? She shook her head. She’d become so immersed in this ridiculous piece of mediaeval fantasy that she wasn’t thinking straight.

  The reason for identifying a vampire family was then explained. Vampires, the author went on, had the ability to discard the body they were inhabiting and take over another one, when the first body became infirm or so well-known that continuing to live the lifestyle of a vampire became impossible.

  When she’d translated that, she sat in thought for another minute or two. What could it mean exactly? And then it dawned on her. This was the crux of the matter. This was the explanation — both the reason and the justification. This was how people who believed in the reality of vampires were able to reconcile the claim of immortality with the fact that alleged vampires did actually grow old and die. It wasn’t that they died, in the usual sense of the word. Rather, the author was suggesting, their essential life force was able to move from one body to another, and they simply discarded their previous body when it was convenient for them to do so.

  Quite how you reconciled the completely different personality of the new host for the vampire’s spirit with that of the previous person, Angela didn’t quite understand, though perhaps the explanation was a lot simpler than that. Maybe people just looked for similarities in behaviour or appearance or anything else, and made the assumption that the vampire’s spirit now inhabited a new host. And, as proving a negative is always virtually impossible, any protestations of innocence made by the new alleged vampire would be dismissed.

  The important thing, the author then explained, was that once a human body had been inhabited by the immortal spirit of a vampire, a part of the vampire’s essence would be retained in the flesh and bones, and especially in the skull.

  There were two reasons for identifying the family of a vampire, he went on. The first was so that the corpse of a former vampire could be located and part of the skeleton, ideally the skull, obtained for the ritual. That was the first mention of any ritual or ceremony, but Angela was quite sure it wouldn’t be the last.

  So the first thing the aspiring vampire had to do was find the tomb belonging to a person who had been a vampire, break into it and remove the head. That was distasteful enough, but it was only the beginning.

  A section of the skull then had to be removed and ground up into a powder, as finely as possible, so that the essence of the vampire’s spirit could be released from the bone. But this operation would only be carried out once the other essential component of the formula had been identified and obtained.

  This was the other reason for identifying the vampire family, because in order for the essence of the vampire’s spirit to be released from the bone and then recaptured, the ground-up skull had to be mixed with the fresh blood of a female descendant of that same family.

  The author digressed slightly at this point to explain, using quasi-scientific reasoning, how the female line retained the spirit of the vampire more strongly than the male line. The explanation frankly made no sense — like almost everything else Angela had translated — but it seemed to involve a woman’s periods, when she, voided her excess of blood to summon a noble vampyr and signify her willingness to be taken. The blood of a female child was of no use, for the essence is not yet sufficient strong in her, and nor was the blood of a woman past childbearing age, or even that of a woman who had given birth. She should bleed but be without child, as the author succinctly put it.

  The unknown author then moved on to the details of the ritual itself. First, a section of the skull was to be ground exceeding fine and placed in a suitable container. Only then was the girl introduced to the proceedings. Her body was to be washed thoroughly and she was to be immobilized in a position convenient for all. At least two people had to take part in the next phase of the ritual, for one would have to rape the girl, to ensure her blood would flow sufficient free, while the other person would bite into her neck to open the veins and allow the bleeding to start. The text recommended allowing the blood to flow until the heart could pump no more — which would obviously mean that the girl would die as part of the ceremony — for her sublime ecstasy in surrendering her soul and spirit would help guarantee the success of the proceedings.

  The blood was to be collected in a suitable receptacle and mixed with the powdered bone of the skull, and the mixture then drunk by the participants. The author cautioned that it might be necessary to repeat the process several times before success would finally be achieved.

  At this point, Angela put down her pencil and sat for a few moments just staring at the Latin text. The document, ludicrous though its suggestions undeniably were, was essentially a recipe and, to a certain extent, a justification for repeated rape and murder, enshrouded in a quasi-religious ritual.

  Then she started translating the final section dealing with the ritual, and found herself totally engrossed in the text. There was, the author asserted, a further refinement that was essential if success was to be achieved. As well as the ground-up bones of a long-dead vampire and the fresh blood of one of the creature’s lineal descendants, the mixture also required the addition of blood taken from another woman, from someone who had never had any connection with any of the vampire families, but who otherwise met the same criteria. This infusion of blood, the author said, would give added strength to the mixture, and was to be extracted from the subject in the same way, by multiple rape and severing the blood vessels in the neck.

  When Angela read that, she closed her eyes and shook her head, wondering how she could subtly alter the translation to avoid the inevi
table conclusion from being drawn.

  But as she reached for her pencil, she realized that Marco was standing directly behind her, and had already read exactly what she’d written.

  ‘I knew that we’d find a more entertaining way to kill you than just a bullet,’ he said. ‘You’ll be able to take your turn on the table tonight.’

  61

  Bronson tucked the Browning pistol into the waistband of his trousers and stared out across the still waters of the Venetian lagoon. Afternoon was steadily turning into evening, and the grey light of early dusk was deepening the aquamarine of the waters around the island.

  There were two islands directly in front of him, both about the same size as the one he was standing on, and both inhabited. He could see lights shining through the windows of the small properties that had been erected on them. They looked homely, welcoming, and were also quite close together. That juxtaposition argued against either of them being the location of any kind of illegal activity, simply because anything that happened on one of the islands would be clearly visible to the people who lived on the other. The only way that either could be the place he was looking for was if the residents on both were involved in some kind of joint conspiracy. And that was a stretch.

  Bronson scanned the islands through the binoculars, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Then he looked over to the left, where another small island was visible in the fading light. But as far as he could see, there were no buildings of any sort on that one. It was a similar story when he searched the lagoon further to the west: just a couple of small islets without any sign of habitation. So where, exactly, had the two men vanished to earlier that afternoon?