A Coldness in the Blood (The Dracula Series)

by Fred Saberhagen

“I have to leave my towel out here, ’cause there’s not going to be a dry spot inside this iron maiden. My shotgun’s under the covers in the upper berth, just in case you need it.”

  “Right.” Andy nodded soberly; the possibility still seemed all too real. So far Dolly had managed to keep the weapon out of sight of the sleeping-car attendants, putting it back in her bag whenever she left the compartment.

  Now Andy took a peek around the edge of the lowered window shade. Looking out into the night from the lighted compartment, it was impossible to see anything but darkness anyway. A moment later, the muffled noise of water running in the shower blended with the endless roaring murmur of the train.

  Cutting through these sounds almost immediately came a sharp tap on the door to the corridor. Andy got up, decided he had better leave the shotgun where it was, and twitched the curtain cautiously aside from the door’s glass panel. Uncle Matt was standing in the narrow passage, neatly dressed in what looked like a new suit, not quite so dark as the one that had been torn to shreds in Old Town. No monstrous abnormalities protruded from his handsome mouth. His clean-shaven lips and chin were free of stains, and had nothing in the least abnormal in their shape.

  He spoke just loudly enough for Andy to hear him above the rumbling of the train. “May I come in?”

  It was as if some part of Andy’s mind had been expecting this visitation, and he did not hesitate. “Yes, of course.” He opened the door, at the same time edging his body sideways, making room for the other to enter the tiny compartment.

  Uncle Matthew Maule came in, looking the same as ever—but no, at a second look, not quite the same. He was now older, with a touch of gray in the dark hair, carrying the appearance of a vigorous man of sixty.

  “You look …”

  “More mature than you have known me.” Uncle Matt nodded. “Yes. Well, at this age I shall be more convincing to Ms. Flamel as a friend of her grandfather. Which indeed I was.”

  For a brief moment Andy considered firing questions having to do with disguise or makeup. But that subject was relatively unimportant, and he let it go. There was a different kind of stumbling block to be got over first.

  “Dolly’s in the shower,” he informed their visitor.

  “Yes, I heard the water start. I wanted the chance to talk with you alone. After that, there are important things that I must say to both of you.”

  Andy nodded his agreement. “Sit down, Uncle Matt.”

  Maule briefly delayed that move. Evidently he had somehow already become aware of the shotgun inside the backpack resting in the upper berth. He slid the weapon briefly out of its wrappings, regarding it with what seemed cheerful approval before he put it back.

  Then Maule bowed his acceptance, folded the upper berth partially up, where it would be out of the way of anyone who sat upon the lower, then planted himself gracefully in the single chair. Andy took the foot of the lower berth. The two men were facing each other, both next to the huge, completely shaded window.

  Andy said: “I have to thank you for saving our lives.”

  “You are most welcome.” A slight pause. “Young Andrew, I am curious. I would like to know why you gave the miscreants my name, when they asked for yours.”

  “You heard that? You had that place bugged, somehow?”

  “No, not bugged. I was nearby. Close enough to hear directly.”

  Andy just looked at him, waiting for more explanation. When it was not immediately forthcoming, he pounded a fist gently on the armrest. “Why did I tell those slime-bags I was Matthew Maule? I don’t know, it just popped into my head.” He paused briefly. “You want to know the truth? By then your name had begun to sound to me like some kind of magic incantation. I mean the way that crazy Dickon reacted to it, and so did Dolly. She told me ‘Matthew Maule’ is a wizard’s name.”

  “Not altogether inappropriate. But perhaps it is time I adopted a new one.” The dark eyes were twinkling faintly with something that Andy took for amusement.

  The car swayed viciously, rounding a slight turn. The whole train rattled and roared. Inside the compartment the ongoing noise was not really very loud, but there were moments when the side-to-side vibration could threaten to throw you from your seat.

  Uncle Matt sat at his ease, attentive, waiting. After a moment, Andy said: “Before we left Chicago, I talked with my father on the phone.”

  “I am aware of that.”

  “It seems you know just about everything.”

  Maule shook his graying head. “Far from it, I assure you.”

  “Whatever. Dad told me to follow any orders you might give.”

  “And that astonished you.”

  “It did.”

  “Very fresh in your mind, even as you were speaking with your father, was that last image you had of me. Only moments before you saw me I had killed a woman—and several men—and you saw me drink her blood.”

  Andy’s throat felt very tight. “That’s right.”

  Uncle Matthew nodded slowly. He did not seem to be uncomfortable with the way the discussion was going. He had turned very serious, now that they were getting to the point, but gave no indication of anything like shame or guilt. He was taking his time to frame his next statement, not at a loss for words but choosing them with extreme care.

  Gently he pulled one edge of the window shade very slightly aside, and when he spoke again he was looking out the window into darkness. “I have truly enjoyed trains. Remind me to tell you, sometime, about my first train ride. I was sealed inside a box. Larger than your standard coffin, but even smaller than this.” He looked around the little first-class compartment with a trace of disapproval. “Boxes were not, of course, a part of the regular passenger accommodations, which were quite roomy.”

  Carefully he restored the shade to its proper position, and once more faced Andy. “Over the last two decades I have come to respect your father, as a man of considerable practical wisdom.”

  “I’ve always thought of Dad that way.” Andy wasn’t sure if this talk could get anywhere, or even where he wanted it to go. But he had to try. “You stand very high in his estimation. But when I saw you Thursday night … Dad didn’t even sound surprised when I told him. And now you admit it.”

  “Let us say I acknowledge the fact. ‘Admit’ implies wrongdoing.”

  Andy made a small sound, not quite a word.

  Maule went on, unperturbed. “Since before you were born, your father and mother have known of the essential ways in which I differ from ordinary men. They have accepted me as I am. So have your Uncle John and his dear Angie. The rest of your family knows nothing of those differences—no more than you have known, up till now.”

  Andy was stubbornly shaking his head. He was groping for answers, hoping to find some way through the horror, or around it. “Right, my Dad vouches for you. He says you’ve done more for us, for the family, than I can ever imagine. I believe that, though I don’t know all the details. But I can’t believe my mother and father have ever seen what I—”

  Maule interrupted, harshly. “Your parents and I were bound together by ties of blood, and more than blood, before you were conceived. It is a complicated story, too much so to tell you now, but when you hear it someday you will find it shocking. Kate and Joseph fear me, sometimes, but they love me too. Whatever your father may have told you about me is quite true.”

  “All he’s really told me on that subject is I should follow your orders.”

  “And will you do so?”

  “I can’t remember the last time my folks gave me any real bad advice. And whatever else you did, back there in Chicago, you saved our lives.”

  In a sudden lightening of mood, Uncle Matt smiled at Andy and reached with a long arm to clap him firmly on the shoulder. “Then be of good cheer. Speak openly of me to your parents, when you have the chance to talk to them in private, and tell them I say they should do the same. They will have astounding revelations for you, now that you are in on the great secret.”

&
nbsp; Seeing that Andy still sat as if frozen, Maule went on relentlessly. “The truth is that the blood of animals serves me very well for sustenance—most of the time. In war, a man takes what he needs from a defeated enemy. Were I not a hemophiliac in the literal meaning of the word, a lover of blood, did I not share in the nature of the nosferatu, you would not have been alive at that point to see anything. Instead it is virtually certain that the woman I killed, or one of her companions, would have been drinking your blood instead—and that of Dolores Flamel.”

  It took Andy a long time to answer. Finally he asked: “The nature of the what?”

  “It will be easier to explain if I first give a short demonstration. I prefer to do that only once, so I will wait till Ms. Flamel has rejoined us.”

  Vaguely Andy was aware that several moments ago the water had ceased running in the shower—it was barely possible to hear the difference, under the steady roar of railroad passage.

  The door to the combination cubicle opened a few inches, and a bare and pinkish arm came groping out. “Towel!” a muffled voice commanded.

  It was Uncle Matt’s hand that put the towel into Dolly’s blindly grasping fingers, which immediately withdrew. Then he resumed his talk with Andy.

  “It is natural that what you saw has not only changed your opinion of me, but of your parents also. Since they have known all along what I am, you can no longer view them in quite the same light as before. In fact, your entire view of the world has changed.”

  Maule leaned forward a little. All traces of amusement had disappeared. “You are a considerably more grown-up young man than you were only a few days ago. But know this, Andrew Keogh: What you saw me do on the field of battle was not done in frivolity, nor as some sacrament of evil. Nor does it mean I am insane.”

  The door to the combination stall had opened again, and Dolly’s face, above towel-wrapped shoulders, had emerged, wearing an expression of surprise. “You’re Uncle Matt. You’ve got to be. I’d ask you to hand me in my clothes, but I can’t dress in here, there’s not enough room to raise my elbows. You guys are going to have to clear out for a minute so I can use the compartment.”

  “But naturally.” Uncle Matthew stood and gave Dolly’s exposed head and neck a piercing look. After a slight shake of his head, he managed a courtly bow. In another moment he and Andy were standing out in the corridor, where they waited silently. At this hour of the night they had the narrow, swaying passage entirely to themselves.

  Andy said to the man beside him: “I haven’t told her everything I saw.”

  ~ 16 ~

  Evidently Dolly was still very much afraid of being left alone, or else she was simply very curious. Well before Andy had really expected her to reappear, she was at the door of the compartment, fully clothed, to summon them back in.

  The garments she was wearing now had been hastily purchased just before departure from Chicago, and they were a better fit and more becoming than the male garb borrowed from Andy’s housemate. She promptly installed herself in the single seat, facing forward, leaving the lower berth for the men. Maule sat on the end by the window, directly facing Dolly, who seemed prepared for serious discussion.

  After a brief exchange of banalities, she got down to cases.

  “Andy tells me that we owe you thanks, for saving our lives back there in Chicago. Sorry I didn’t thank you right away. I couldn’t see much of what was going on.”

  Maule offered a slight, seated bow. “I was delighted to be able to be of assistance.”

  Dolly nodded slowly. “Just what kind of business are you in, Mr. Maule?”

  Amusement touched his thin lips. “My usual reply, these days, is that I am a consultant in the field of conflict resolution.”

  “But that’s not the real answer?”

  “I might also describe my work in terms of stress management.”

  Dolly shrugged and abandoned that approach. “I guess you knew my grandfather pretty well.”

  Maule nodded. “I did—decades ago, in Europe—and I truly mourn his passing. Also I regret I had no chance to see him again before he died.”

  “I didn’t see you getting on the train at Chicago, Mr. Maule. Or should I call you Uncle Matt?”

  “As you please; this is no time for formality, as I am sure you must realize. I flew to Kansas City and boarded the train there.”

  “Then you saw what happened when we were on the platform? Like something was happening under the train?”

  “Ah, yes.” Uncle Matt’s face took on a pinched look, as if it pained him to think about it.

  Andy interrupted to put in: “You flew to Kansas City just to catch up with us?”

  “An interesting place. Ah, but Chicago … Chicago is truly fascinating, is it not? On my first visit, I too found it somewhat bewildering. One of the great cities of the world. Though like many another metropolis, it encompasses within its borders much that is crude, and, sad to say, much that is truly dangerous. Difficult for a sensitive soul to deal with, or even to understand.”

  Andy pushed ahead. “Uncle Matt, we want to know the whole story. How you helped us in Old Town, what that whole scene was all about. I know some people got killed there, but they were ready to kill us, so … I also know that some of them got away.” Andy hesitated; let Matthew Maule be the one to raise the subject of drinking blood, if he felt up to explaining that.

  When Maule said nothing, Andy added: “Also, just who the hell is Mr. Dickon? If you can tell us that. I think we have it coming. You got us out of a real deadly mess, and we’re grateful, but …”

  Andy’s tone grew more aggressive. “But didn’t I get tangled up in all this in the first place just by being in your apartment? Didn’t something really strange happen there on Tuesday night?”

  Uncle Matt was nodding slowly. “‘Strange’ is not an adequate description. Something unheard of in my experience, and that is saying … saying very much. More than you can realize. A man named Tamarack was killed, by a truly incredible intruder. You are correct, both of you have a right to know what has put you in such danger. Therefore I will tell you what I can.

  “In return, you will both tell me all that you know pertaining to this affair. Including the matter of little statues.” His black eyes burned at Dolly. “Most importantly, if I am going to take part in this search, I must know all that you know regarding the location of the prize.”

  Dolly was nodding silently.

  Maule went on. “I think you understand that undertaking a long journey has not removed you from the path of danger?”

  “I understand that.”

  Maule looked at her closely. “I see you do. The secret you retained even under the threat of torture, you have already divulged—I know the list of names, as you gave them to Andy. No, he has not betrayed you. My skill at eavesdropping goes well beyond what you may imagine to be possible.”

  Dolly looked at Andy, then back at Maule. She was obviously afraid.

  Andy moved closer, and reached out to take her hand.

  After a moment, Maule went on, in gentler tones: “If there is any additional secret you still retain, you would be well advised to tell me now. I wish to help you, and your very survival is still at stake.”

  Still Dolly did not seem entirely convinced. She murmured something that might have been a denial she still had any secret knowledge. She gently disengaged her hand from Andy’s.

  Maule was content to let the matter rest for the moment. “But before we go any farther, a little background. A minute ago I was recalling my first train ride. You will be astonished to learn that it took place in eighteen ninety-one.”

  The two young people looked at each other, then back at the older man. “Nineteen eighty-one?” Andy suggested.

  “No, I gave the date correctly. Well over a century ago. In that same year I also rode the Orient Express. A vehicle of memorable luxury.”

  Somewhere in the distance, a train whistle made its lonely sound.

  It was now time for a
demonstration of the more fantastic aspects of reality. And Maule found this easy to accomplish after dark in the small compartment, where three passengers were all necessarily so close to each other as to be on the verge of touching. A short course, with demonstrations of shape-changing, disappearance into thin air, and of strength. Andy, using the full strength of his two arms, discovered that he could not twist one of Maule’s fingers against the older man’s will.

  When the show was over, Maule’s stunned companions were involuntarily leaning back in their seats, as if they wanted to get away from him, but knew that they could not.

  He said to them: “Now I must solemnly warn you both that the powers I have demonstrated will be shared not only by the coward Dickon, but by certain others who will be much more ruthless about using them.”

  He looked at Andy. “I believe that the man who almost killed you in Chicago is still alive, despite what happened to him there. His name, you will recall, is Lambert, and he is very dangerous. Also, I think he will not be alone. I found one of his associates beneath the train in the station at Kansas City.”

  Maule switched his gaze to Dolly. “Your situation is, if anything, more dangerous than Andy’s. Lambert wants to wring from you every secret that you possess. He will have effective ways of doing that, and afterward he will want to drink your blood. Keep the shade of this window closed, from sunset to sunrise. If you should see at night a face outside the moving window, looking in, be assured that you are probably not dreaming.

  “Above all, allow no strangers, no matter how innocent in appearance, to enter this compartment.”

  Andy said in a subdued voice: “The attendants come in, sometimes.”

  “If they are genuine, they will be able to enter without an invitation. So far that has been the case, I take it? Very well.”

  And after that, the demonstration was capped by the brief appearance, right there in the compartment, of the dog that had come trotting after the two fugitives on a Chicago street.

  Then the dog was gone, and Uncle Matt sat smiling at them again.