Countess Dracula (8 page)

Afterwards, she sat back among his pillows while he lay still, enjoying the feel of the cool air on his wet skin. He wanted to remember the sensation.

‘Why?’ Nayland asked, a question he hadn’t wanted to raise earlier in case it had made her come to her senses.

‘A celebration,’ Elizabeth said. ‘And a business proposition.’

‘Where do I sign?’

‘I think you just did.’ She was silent for a moment. ‘Do you have a cigarette?’

‘Bedside table.’ Nayland made to sit up, reaching for the light, but she pushed him back down with her foot.

‘I can manage.’ She scrabbled in the half-light, opening the cigarette case and helping herself. There was a flash of orange fire and then the air was filled with the scent of smoke, eradicating the afterglow aroma of their sex, fumigating them.

‘I have not been happy,’ she said after smoking in silence for a while. ‘Not for a long time. Did you realise that?’

‘Yes,’ he admitted. ‘But as you clearly didn’t want me to do anything about it …’

‘What could you have done?’ It was not a question that Elizabeth expected him to answer. ‘But if there had been a way, something that would have made me really happy, would you have done it?’

‘You know I would. I’m an idiot, but I’m consistent.’

‘You really love me, don’t you?’

‘Yes.’ Nayland could see no point in lying – she knew it, anyway.

‘Even though I treat you so terribly?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’

‘I have no idea.’

‘There is a way.’

‘A way to what?’

‘To make me happy. I found it tonight. But I need you to be a part of it.’

‘The maid?’

‘Yes, though probably not in the way you think.’

Nayland didn’t want to hear more: this was the terror that waited on the next sunrise, the next step on the downward spiral. He knew she wouldn’t spare him. ‘What did you do?’

In answer Elizabeth reached across and turned on the bedside light. It took a moment for what he saw to sink in. He scooted across the bed to prop himself up against the footboard, staring at the woman facing him.

‘What have you done?’ he asked. ‘What the hell have you done?’

‘Something miraculous, and all it cost was the blood of someone unimportant.’

Someone unimportant
. How mild those words were. How terrible.

‘Tell me!’

‘Darling, there’s no need to shout. It was just an accident, a happy accident.’

‘Not for her.’

‘Oh, who cares about her? She was nothing, just a silly little girl. Since when have we had to worry about people like that? This is who we are, the gods of the screen, grown beautiful by feeding on them. All I did was take it a step further. Her blood made me beautiful. Am I not beautiful?’

Nayland couldn’t deny that. She looked absolutely stunning, better even than she had in his screening room. She was the perfect dream of herself. The definitive Elizabeth.

‘Of course you are.’ He moved closer and she tilted her head, spreading her limbs out before him, soaking up all his attention.

‘Did I ever look better?’

‘No,’ he admitted. ‘But … the girl …’

‘Is dead and there’s nothing that can be done to bring her back. So why worry? We just need to get rid of the body.’

He sank back on the bed. ‘We?’

‘You wouldn’t let me struggle on my own, would you? And you know I’d be grateful. I might even love you for it.’

‘Don’t promise what you can’t deliver.’

‘Who knows?’

Nayland knew only too well but he wasn’t going to argue about it.

‘Will you help?’ Elizabeth rubbed her young toes on his old, grey chest. ‘You wouldn’t let me go to the chair over such a stupid little thing as this, would you?’

‘I should.’

‘But you won’t.’

‘No, God help me, I won’t.’

‘Good boy.’

They dressed, Nayland unable to stop staring at Elizabeth, she loving every moment of it.

‘What are we going to say?’ he asked.

‘I told Patience that we were going to take her out. Who’s to say what happened to her after we left her?’

‘Not the maid. You. People won’t believe it. You’re so young …’

This had never occurred to Elizabeth, the idea that she had restored her beauty but wouldn’t be able to show it. She looked at herself in the mirror. ‘This is Hollywood – they’ll believe anything we tell them. That’s what they do. We’re not human, we’re not real … they expect miracles from us every day.’

‘And Patience? Or Fabio?’

‘Fabio will see dollar signs, Patience will just have to do as she’s told. That’s what she’s for.’ Elizabeth tore herself away from the mirror. ‘We’ll worry about that in the morning, one thing at a time.’

She led him into the bathroom. He saw the drained body of Georgina dumped in the tub.

‘Oh God.’ Nayland pressed his hand to his mouth, then said, ‘Oh Elizabeth, what did you do?’

‘What needed to be done.’ She had brought in the red dress that she had promised Georgina she could wear. ‘Help me get her into this.’

‘Why, for God’s sake?’

‘Because it will look better. We dress her up and dump her. Stick to our story, that we took her out for dinner somewhere …’

‘Where?’

‘I don’t know. Luciano’s, Oceanic …’

‘They’ll check! The police will ask if we were there.’ Nayland rubbed at his face, trying to force his brain into action. ‘This needed planning, care … you just killed her and now …’

‘I needed you,’ Elizabeth purred. ‘All right? I admit it. I should have asked you to help.’

‘To help you kill.’ He bent over, trying to get his breath. A world that had been loose enough already was falling apart around him.

‘To help me get new life. Would you begrudge me that?’

Oh, but the cost
… Nayland thought, looking at the dead eyes of their maid.

‘It’s done,’ Elizabeth insisted. ‘Now we need to fix it or I’ll be joining her.’ She fixed him with a stare so hard that he felt as if she had shoved him. ‘And I will not accept that.’

He nodded. However much the act disgusted him she was right in that the girl’s life was gone. Nothing he could do would change that. The choice had been made. Now he had to decide whether Elizabeth should pay for it or not. As always, he bowed to her.

‘All right.’ Nayland drew in a breath and forced himself to act. He grabbed the maid under her arms and lifted her from the tub. There was a loud belch and he dropped her again, with a cry of panic. ‘She’s not dead!’

‘Of course she’s dead. It’s just gas. You remember that movie we did?
The Cedar Grove
? With Larry Michaels. He told me about the girl I was playing, the real one, how they had found her body in the pond and she had blown up like a Zeppelin. They’d never show that on-screen, of course, just me floating among the lilies. But real death is ugly.’

‘It is indeed.’ He picked Georgina up again. ‘Pull the dress up her legs.’

Elizabeth did so, yanking the material over the girl’s damp body. The girl seemed to fight back, Nayland straining to hold her still as her limbs flailed. It was like trying to dress a large marionette.

‘Put her down,’ said Elizabeth. ‘I need to get her arms through.’

Nayland tried to rest the girl on the edge of the bath but she fell in, her head striking the enamel with a resounding bang.

‘Careful!’ said Elizabeth.

‘What does it matter? She can’t get any more dead – you’ve seen to that.’

‘Just lift her back out.’

He did so, tugging her up by her arms, her head lolling on her thin neck.

Elizabeth stepped in between them, pulling the dress up and then taking hold of each arm to fold it through the straps. The left one seemed to fight back and the fabric ripped.

Elizabeth yelled a Hungarian curse, stepping back to take a swing at the dead girl. She slapped her across the face and Nayland had to yank hard to stop her from being torn from his grip.

‘What are you doing?’ he demanded. ‘That’s not helping.’

‘Neither is she.’

‘Just pull it around her, it’ll be fine. Who cares if it’s torn?’

Elizabeth did just that. ‘She’ll do. Now we need to get her out of the house.’

‘I’ll carry her to the garage, you walk ahead of me and make sure nobody sees us.’ He hoisted her up onto his shoulder and a splatter of blood shot from her gashed throat and ran down the back of his jacket.

‘Shit!’ He turned around, trying to see how bad it was in the mirror.

‘The material’s dark enough,’ Elizabeth insisted. ‘It’ll be fine. Come on!’

She led the way back out into the hall, checking to either side as Nayland followed her.

‘All clear.’ She ran to the head of the stairs and waved Nayland along behind her.

‘Open the front door,’ he whispered. ‘Quickly.’

She drew back the bolts and swung the door open. He ran right past her, immediately cutting right and then ducking as he saw Patience appear at the window beside him. He fell back against the wall as Elizabeth joined him, both of them moving low beneath the sill.

‘It is ridiculous,’ said Elizabeth, ‘hiding from your own staff, not free to do what you like in your own home.’

‘It hasn’t stopped you in the past.’

‘Just get to the garage.’

They ran together, moving around the side of the house to an outhouse that had been designed to look like a stable. In fact, it housed two or three cars and a motorcycle that Nayland had fallen in love with but had never mastered riding.

‘The keys!’ said Nayland.

‘I didn’t even know it was locked.’

‘That’s because you always get Gerry to drive you everywhere.’ Their sullen driver was only too used to his mistress’s demands and had actually threatened to leave their employ several times due to her frequent abuse. Nayland had always assumed she had taken such a dislike to him because she had been unable to lure him into her bed.

‘So what do we do now?’ Elizabeth asked.

‘You wait here with her and I go and get them.’

‘I’m not sitting out here with the body! What if someone comes along?’

‘Charm them. The last thing we need is Patience seeing what you look like. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. For now let’s just deal with this.’

He ran back towards the house, remembering his jacket just as he was about to step through the front door. Why risk it drawing attention? He took it off and threw it to the side of the doorway.

Inside he almost ran right into Patience. ‘Sir,’ she said, managing to appear only slightly startled, ‘I heard someone outside and I wondered …’

‘We’re just heading out.’

‘Does Gerry know? I think I saw him sitting in the kitchens.’

‘I want to drive – you know I like to drive.’

Patience knew better than to argue, even though he was speaking far too quickly, not acting natural at all.

‘Get me the keys, would you?’ he asked, trying to decide which car had the biggest trunk. ‘The Daimler. I just need to grab something from upstairs.’

‘Of course, sir. Might I ask …?’

‘What?’

‘Is the maid with you? Only madam did say …’

‘Yes, she is. Madness, I know, but you don’t argue with Elizabeth.’

Patience felt it safer not to comment on that. ‘I’ll just get the keys.’

Nayland suddenly panicked. ‘Meet me back here, yes?’

Patience gave him a brief look of concern but nodded and walked off towards the kitchens.

Nayland needed to calm down before he aroused any more suspicion. He could probably pass it off as frustration at Elizabeth, anger at her stupid idea to take the maid out. Patience would probably believe that. However much Elizabeth seemed to think that the housekeeper would do as she was told, Nayland knew there was a puritan heart beating away in the woman somewhere. He had no doubt that she wouldn’t cover for them if she suspected murder. Some things were beyond her duty.

He ran up the stairs and into Elizabeth’s bathroom, wanting to check for any signs of what they had done.

They
. It suddenly hit him that, as always, he had made himself part of Elizabeth’s business. Something that should have been hers to bear alone was now a weight on his shoulders too.

He grabbed a towel and rubbed at the bath. Elizabeth had done a fair job of cleaning but their wrestling with the corpse had left traces of its own. He ran the towel over the floor, mopping up a couple of blood spills, and then wrapped it up into a tight bundle.

Going back into the dressing room, Nayland grabbed a small holdall, shoved the towel into it and then ran his hands through Elizabeth’s clothes until he found what he was after: another red dress, different of course from the other one but close enough. He bundled that into the bag too and ran to his room to fetch another jacket and a tie. He slung the jacket on, folding the tie into his pocket, and ran back downstairs.

‘The keys, sir.’ Patience held them out to Nayland and he grabbed them without replying.

Having second thoughts at the door he turned back to her. ‘Knowing Elizabeth it will be a long night,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry about waiting up – we’ll manage.’

‘Very good, sir.’ Patience showed no sign of being pleased about the early night but Nayland hadn’t expected her to. He’d seen her smile just twice while she’d been working for them, both times under extreme duress.

He tried to look casual as he left the house, pulling the door closed gently behind him before grabbing his bloodstained jacket from the ground, stuffing it into the bag and breaking into a run.

‘What took you so long?’ Elizabeth asked, still waiting in the shadows behind the garage.

‘Trying to cover our tracks,’ he said, handing her the bag and the car keys. ‘The Daimler, that’s the big black one …’

‘I know, I know …’

‘Open the trunk.’

Nayland picked up Georgina’s body and followed on behind Elizabeth, keeping a lookout over his shoulder in case anyone was watching from the house.

Elizabeth fussed with the keys and finally opened the trunk. Nayland dropped the body into it, slamming the metal lid down with relief. It was good not to have to look into those eyes for a while.

‘What’s in the bag?’ Elizabeth asked.

‘A bloodstained towel, my jacket and another red dress.’