Lord of the Vampires (31 page)

The professor clearly sensed my growing reluctance, for he briefly laid a warm hand upon my shoulder that conveyed both comfort and encouragement. Then he set upon the lock with the key. The former was ancient and somewhat rusted, requiring him to play with it several seconds before, at last, the large metal door gave a mournful screech and came open.

It took us both some effort to push it openI all the while wondering how Lucy would ever be able to manage it. The professor motioned me to enter; a darkly chivalrous gesture if ever there was one. I did, and started as a squeaking black rat skittered over my foot. Inside, the air was cold but stale, and heavy with the scent of mouldering flowers. It was, I rhink, the most hopeless place I have ever stood, for within a weeks time, the spiderwebs had grown heavy, and numerous shiny-coated beetles crawled before my feet. The whole of ithigh octagonal windows, bleak walls, crawling shadowswas coated with a very fine layer of dust that seemed to absorb all light. I suppose the grimness distracted me, for the professor touched my shoulder to bring me to myself.

Once more I started, to my embarrassment, then began to follow Van Helsing, who had moved past me with a sense of purpose, out of the narrow entryway into a wider room where a good twenty coffins lay upon marble catafalques. It was easy to guess which were Mrs. Westenras and Lucys, as the others were all shrouded with such a thick film of dust (which demonstrated how long it had been since any had visited here) that neither the coffins colour nor the nameplate could be seen.

To the cleaner coffins the professor went at once, bag in hand, and squinted down at the silver nameplates to ascertain which was Lucys. That decided, he set down the bag and retrieved from it a turnscrew and fretsaw, both of which he rather callously set upon Mrs. Westenras nearby casket.

I must say here that I was altogether amazed by his incredible calm and matter-of-factness. Being a trained physician, I had long ago lost my squeamishness around the dead; but this was no ordinary corpse we were approaching now, nor ordinary circumstances. Yet Van Helsing behaved as if it were something he had done his whole life.

Without fanfare or even a hint of reverence, he raised the coffin lid, so swiftly that I barely managed to keep from drawing back. It was foolish of me to do so, for my brain knew well that we would only see the lead lining; but my heart had apparently caused me to forget for an instant. The dead flowers which had rested atop Lucys casketone of which I had laid there myself a week before scattered with a rustling whisper to the ground, a cruel reminder that even grief itself was not everlasting.

The professor paid them no heed but, with the cool detachment I have seen him wear in surgery, picked up the turnscrew. With a sudden savage movement, he made a hammer of his fist and struck the turnscrews handle so that its tip tore open the thin lead casing.

This time, I recoiled in earnest, and drew out my handkerchief, fully prepared to protect myself from the ensuing rush of noxious gas that would come from the week-old corpse. But no stench came. I permitted myself to draw a breath, and stood fascinated by what came next.

Van Helsing set down the turnscrew and picked up the tiny fretsaw. After working it into the gap left by the puncture, he sawed some few feet down one side of the coffin, then across the top, then down the other side. Both fretsaw and turnscrew he replaced in his bag. Then he grasped the tongue of metal at the top and pulled down to the foot, as a mother might pull back a too-warm blanket so as not to wake a sleeping child.

But there was nothing of tenderness in the professors movements; when he drew back the lead casing to reveal the corpse beneath, his expression was colder and harder than I have ever seen it.

Friend John, he called, with a voice so deep and stern none would have dared disobey it. Look away from her! Look away!

Actually, I had not yet steeled myself to gaze down at her, so his warning came in time. He stepped between me and the coffin and said urgently, I have done you a disservice in not warning you first. No, look up at me, not at her yes! And now listen: Sense your own aura, and withdraw it inward, towards your heart. Strengthen it there. This protects you from her pull, now and in the future. Yes, yes! he cried in approval; apparently my features had changed as I put into practice his lesson. Indeed, I found the result was that I had hardened my heart. The emotional strain of the painful encounter was abruptly eased, and I found myself possessed of some measure of the professors calm concentration.

I let go a sigh as my equilibrium returned.

Very good! the professor said. Very good. If you wish to look down at her now, you may; if I see that you have trouble, I shall help. I apologise that I had not schooled you in this technique earlier. I was foolish enough to hope that the talismans I had left with her would remain, and keep her in the tomb until we could send her to a more honourable rest. Before she was placed in her coffin, I had left them upon her lips and breastbut see? Someone has taken them. He sighed. I had set them upon her at her wake, but someone in the house stole them thentwo crucifixes of gold. So before her burial, I paid the mortician and set two more upon her before I watched them seal her fast beneath the lead. Now someone else has cheated us againbut no mortal, I fear, or the lead would already have been rolled away.

I listened to him with only half an ear, for at his permission I had at once looked down at Lucy. To say that she was beautiful would have been an insult; in undeath, she was beyond beauty, beyond radiance. Indeed, it was as if the sun itself had been wrapped in white cerements, revealing only in placeshead and handsits full blazing glory. Her hair, which had been dark ash bleached to blond in places by the summer sun, was now a glorious and shimmering bronze streaked with molten gold. Her lips were the delicate, iridescent pink of mother-of-pearl, just as her eyesher open eyes, which gazed sightlessly at a point beyond the ceilingwere the seafoam-green of polished nacre. And her face was that of the full moon, possessed of an internal radiance.

One thoughtone small thought,
Dear God, she is beautiful
!and one fleeting and subtle desire to give up on all that was moral and right, to join her in eternal ecstasy, and I felt my heart go out to her as the tide seeks the moon. I was lost, smitten.

Once more, a touch of the professors hand brought me from my dangerous reverie. I looked up, and caught a gulp of air; staring into Van Helsings dark blue eyes, I focussed myself and again took control of my heart and emotions.

I am all right, I said. I shall look at her no longer. And to show my determination, I stepped away from the corpse and faced the entry.

He was there only a few seconds longer in order to leave more talismans and roll the lead lining back over her, then close the casket lid. For Arthurs sake, he said grimly as we left, and the fact that I was too arrogant to bring with me stake and knife, thinking that my pale magic would hold her hereI do not kill her now. But if we do not succeed in doing so tonight, when Arthur and Quincey come, there will be much blood upon my head; much blood.

It is evening now, and Arthur and Quince will arrive in a few hours in response to the professors letters. Thoughts of what is to come leave me too restless to eat supper.

* * *

The Diary of Abraham Van Helsing

29 SEPTEMBER.

Arthur and Quincey arrived last night at ten oclock, both of them wearing expressions of confusion. As agreed, John herded the lot of us into his study and locked the door, which only added to the mysterious sense of secrecy.

Once the others had taken seats upon the long sofa, I stood before them to address them, and they all three looked up at me with curiosity and even faint hopeas if there might be something good in the midst of all this sorrow. Arthur himself looked dreadful; he had aged fifteen years in the course of a week. His formerly smooth forehead was creased with wrinkles, and his eyes were still dazed; in them, I saw thoughts of sadness enter and leave like passing clouds. He was at that terrible early stage of mourning where any sight, any sound, any memory, might touch him and reignite his grief.

Quincey, too, was suffering in his own quiet way. His already thin lips had grown noticeably thinner, and shadows had gathered beneath his tired eyes; beneath the freckles that so perfectly matched his dark red hair, his skin had grown pale. He sat with his big white Stetson in his bony fingers, and toyed with the rim so that the hat slowly revolved round and round. Yet despite his suffering, he maintained a forced brightness for his friends sake.

It was for me a difficult moment, staring at these good but troubled souls; I had contemplated long about this meeting, and had come to the unhappy conclusion that there was simply no kind way to do it. So I began by saying that I had finally learned what had killed Lucy, and that she was now in such a state that we had one last task to perform, for her sake.

Arthur stiffened with horror. Dr. Van Helsing, do you mean to tell me she was buried alive?

I shook my head: no, no. Dear Arthur, dear friend; do you trust me? Do you believe that I honestly cared for Miss Lucy, and that I wanted, and still want, only the best for her?

Yes, of course, he said, but his eyes remained tormented.

Then let me take you to her tomb, for there lies the only physical evidence necessary to explain what we must do. If you will only trust, and come with me

The look of confusion and pain on Arthurs face pulled at me, but I remained cold and resolute. First, Arthur replied, clearly struggling to contain his feelings, I must know
why
we need to go to the tomb. What terrible mystery can it be, that you cannot tell me plainly as a friend?

I can only tell you that it is for Miss Lucys sake that we go, I told him. There is something that remains to be done for her, that she might rest peacefully in death.

Quincey Morris set his hat upon his lap and leaned forward to say, in a heated tone, Now, see here, Professor! Going back to the tomb for mysterious reasons is a cruel thing to do to Arthur, dont you think? Cant you see how difficult this is for him?

I held my tongue but thought:
Ah, poor Quincey, I know it is no easier for you
!

He continued, scowling, If the poor girls dead, shes dead; what more can be done for her?

Quite calmly I answered, We must cut off her head, pur a
stake through her heart, and fill her mouth
with garlic.

Johns eyes widened at once with pure dismay at this blunt and heartless outburst. Quincey, on the other hand, leaned even farther forward and rested fingers upon the pistol worn on his belt.

As for poor Arthur, he turned livid and rose in a burst of fury, bending his right arm at the elbow and pulling it back in preparation for the blow aimed squarely at my jaw. And before John could rise to restrain him, he struck out with his fist. I was prepared for such a blow; before it could land, I had already taken a step backward and withdrawn my aura, rendering myself quite invisible.

Arthur swung at the air, then drew back in utter amazement and gaped down at his fist, as if expecting to find there some defect. Finding none, he stared open-mouthed at the room surrounding him.

Our friend Quincey slowly sank back into the cushions and quietly replaced his hands in his lap. I watched as the big freckled Adams apple slowly bobbed down once, then rose back up. Beside him sat John, whose expression was a curious mixture of sorrow, wry disapproval and mounting hilarity.

For the space of several seconds, no one uttered a sound.

Duly satisfied that I had made an impression, I walked behind the sofa where the two men were sitting, materialised, and said quietly, Gentlemen.

They all snapped their heads round to stare at me. Arthur was so utterly stymied that he began to sway on his feet; I quickly stepped around the sofa and back to him. He clutched my shoulders, wide-eyed and mute, and let himself be led to the sofa, where he sat between John and Quincey.

Gentlemen, I continued, what you have just seen could be the result of the three of you having simultaneously gone quite insane. Or there could be another explanation, one not acceptable according to our current understanding of science. I must swear you to silence concerning it; if you choose instead to speak of it, be aware that I will deny it and label you mad.

Again, not a word of reply.

Miss Lucy has been bitten by a vampire I began. At this, Quincey grew excited and opened his mouth to speak, but I silenced him with a look. Not the bat, as friend Quincey suggests, but an actual man who has been transformed into a creature neither dead nor alive; the undead, which the Roumanians call
nosferatu
. In English, a vampire; one who sucks the blood of the living, who in turn become vampires after their death.

What are you saying? asked Arthur slowly; there was no anger, only pain, in his voice. That Lucy died from the bite of one of these?

I nodded, hardening my heart at the sight of this terrible revelations effect upon him.

Quincey tossed his hat aside and ran his hand over thinning hair. Professor, I respect you, he said, clearly troubled. Maybe even more so since your little demonstration here tonight. At that, we two gave a faint smile. And even if I hadnt seen it, I would still believe you to be an honest man of the very best intentions. But this isnt something that Ithat Arthurcan readily accept. Because what youre saying is that Miss Lucy isis His voice trailed into silence.

I do not expect you to believe me without seeing the proof. So I have asked you to come with me tonight to the Kingstead churchyard. Here I addressed Arthur, who was still dazed. And if you believe it, Lord Godalming, to permit me to destroy the creature so the true Miss Lucy an rest.

* * *

We arrived in Kingstead shortly before midnight, and made short work of the low stone fence (Quincey, with his long, thin legs, could simply step over). It was a chill, windy night, and though the moon was still radiant, jagged fast-moving clouds at times obscured the light. I had brought my medical bag with the few necessary items, and an unlit lantern. John and Quincey flanked Arthur, forming a barrier between their friend and the terrible experience to come. John was grim but resolved; Quincey remained silent, but kept casting solicitous glances at Arthur as if determined to stop the proceedings the moment his friend registered distress.