The Delicate Dependency: A Novel of the Vampire Life (49 page)

The porcelain handle turned slowly in its collar.

On discovering it was fastened he paused. What was he going to do? My temples pounded. He might be able to hear my heart, but the constant rocking and droning of the train might make it difficult for him to discern where in the compartment I was hiding. Suddenly, more voices appeared in the car. The conductor had apparently returned with two of the green-liveried porters. I heard him tell the intruders in French that the
chef de train
wanted to speak with them in the conductor’s car. The man standing before our compartment refused. The conductor grew annoyed and insisted.

I could stand it no longer. Uncontrollably, I expelled my breath. From the sudden silence beyond it was obvious every one had heard me gasp for air, including the vampire in the Russian sable. “Very well,” he told the conductor. Two of them would go with him to see the
chef de train
, but one of them would remain behind. He made some pompous excuse about securities investigators and stolen property, but the conductor would hear none of it. His authority had been challenged and he was livid. What happened next I am not sure. One of the porters cried out. There was the sound of a scuffle.

“Through the window!” Dr. von Neefe cried as I leaped up from my hiding place.

There was the distinctive sound of a body crashing to the carpet. I recalled des Esseintes’s mentioning that he was well versed in many ancient arts and could render one unconscious with the most delicate application of pressure, but there was no time to confirm my assumption. She flung the window open and at the same instant we could hear footsteps crashing toward the door of the compartment. It is said that people in a blind panic have been known to perform feats of impossible strength and dexterity, that men have lifted huge blocks of 8tone off their fellow workers, and it must be true, for the adrenaline coursing through our bodies enabled us to act without regard to danger of human limitation. Incredibly, she climbed out into the frozen rush of air and grasped something above the sash. She pulled herself upward. I heard the door being kicked effortlessly to bits as I followed. I slipped the canvas satchel inside my jacket. When I was out I saw that Dr. von Neefe had somehow managed to clamber to the top of the speeding train. The wind tore at us. She reached down to assist me up and as I slowly reached the sash I saw the remains of the door come slamming down inside the compartment. I saw a flash of black coining for me as I continued to pull myself up, and a deathly white hand in black sable reached madly for my dangling leg. I made it to the top just beyond the creature’s reach.

It was a nightmare. They had to be desperate to be willing to act so boldly and without regard to the consequences of their insanity. The train sped on over a ledge of mountain with a steep gorge beneath us menacingly on our right. One of them was coming through the window after us. Snow ripped by us in the darkness as we heedfully made our way toward the back of the treacherously rocking train. We finally reached a smoking platform between two of the cars. I glanced back and saw two of them hunched over like cats and following in furious pursuit. They were less than a car’s length behind us. We dropped down to the smoking platform and burst through the door to the next car.

The contrast from clawing through the dark and cold and literally fighting for our lives to what we entered next was galvanizing. Inside was a splendid Italianate dining saloon. The tables were covered with fine linen and were scintillant with silver and crystal. The walls were richly paneled, and handsomely uniformed waiters scurried to and fro over the mock-Jacobean carpet. The dining car was crowded and all eyes were upon us as we raced through toward the next car. Before we had scarcely reached the exit we heard the sound of the door at the opposite end of the saloon being thrown open, and the people in the car gasped at the force employed by our pursuer. The third vampire had caught up with us.

Where was the
chef de train?
Surely word of the disturbance had reached him and he would be here soon. In desperation I pulled an opulently decked serving cart from one of the stunned waiters and shoved it in the vampire’s path behind us. Another gasp rose from the crowd as the diners nearest us knocked over tables and chairs to get out of the way. We fled to the next car.

By now the other two vampire had reached the dining saloon and were also right on our heels. We passed through a second-class car, and then another, causing a swarm of faces to gasp and turn. We ran in mindless fear until we neared the end of the train and passed through a luggage car. Where could we hide? No matter where we paused, as soon as our pursuers caught up with us their acute senses would be able to pinpoint our location.

Our commotion caused something else. Barking. Suddenly, the crowded luggage car was filled with the barking of many dogs. In the blue moonlight coming in from the icy landscape I saw cage after cage filled with sleek canine forms. Greyhounds. Racing greyhounds on their way to Rome.

“Behind the cages!” Dr. von Neefe exclaimed. We scampered over one of the cages and dropped to the floor. The door to the luggage car slid open violently.

I understood her reasoning at once. Amid so many conflicting smells and heartbeats the senses of the vampire might be confused. We held ourselves close to the floor, as still as rocks, as three sets of footsteps entered the room. The dogs continued to bark.

Through the mesh of the cage I saw the bottom of a Russian sable coat sweep by. Then all three figures stopped and stood silently. The clicking of the points gently resounded from the tracks below. I noticed some of the dogs had stopped barking, and in the moonlight I could see that the greyhound in the cage adjacent to us was flaring its nostrils. It was taking in the myriad of scents that filled the car... sifting them... reading them. I did not have to see their faces to know the vampire beyond were doing the same.

Our ruse seemed to be working, for one of the vampire took a step to continue.

“No, listen,” commanded the same voice.

A flickering of shadows passed quickly through the room. In the distance the whistle blew.

“There are two human heartbeats in this room,” said the voice. There was a pause of several moments and then the other two padded toward the opposite end of the luggage car. They began to search among the trunks. Each scraping, each heavy thud meant they were drawing closer to our hiding place. It was inevitable that they would find us. There was no place to run.

“Dr. Gladstone,” addressed the voice unexpectedly, “there is no escape. Why don’t you make it easier on yourself and just come out?”

I remained silent.

The other two figures pulled out one of the cages just a few feet down from us and shuffled around behind it. The greyhound snarled savagely.

“We will not harm you,” the voice murmured placidly.

They moved one of the trunks next to us. It grazed the bottom of my boot, but I dared not withdraw it. Dr. von Neefe looked at me with horror.

“Very well, suit yourself.”

White hands clamped down on either side of the cage concealing us.

At the same moment there was the sound of voices from the next car. The
chef de train
was coming. From the seriousness of the disturbance there was no doubt he would be armed and accompanied by numerous men. The figure reaching for the cage concealing us hesitated.

“The door!” shrilled our adversary.

From the sound of his footsteps it was apparent that the third vampire raced toward the sliding door dividing us from our rescuers and braced himself against it. The door rattled as those beyond tried to force it, but the strength of the single vampire was more than equal match. There was shouting and suddenly the splintering of wood as a crowbar began to smash through the barrier.

The white hands gripping the cage concealing us faltered.

The door gave way and the three vampire were forced to flee. Amid the barking of the greyhounds and the whistling of the wind and snow coming through the broken door was the sound of a group of men charging by in pursuit. And then the voices faded in the distance and we were left alone.

About half an hour later we heard the sounds of the men coming back through. From their conversation it was apparent the vampire had eluded them. They, too, were hiding somewhere on the train. No doubt they had employed their superior strength and agility to slither through some crevice or even creep like lemurs along the very side of the speeding train. We dared not move for fear of running into them. Because of the dangers we were certain they would remain hidden until the train reached the next stop. We traveled the remainder of our journey cowering in the luggage car, accompanied only by the cold and the sporadic howling of the hounds.

The temperature rose rapidly as we descended the mountains. It was still dark when we reached Florence. We knew that the vampire would be crawling over the Stazione Termini, watching every disembarking passenger, and so we had one choice. As the train slowed down to a crawl and pulled into the station we leaped to the platform on the opposite side.

Had the
società
answered our plea? Was someone waiting for us inside the station? Regardless of the hazards, we had to go in. Again we traveled with a wide distance between us. We went into the station and I kept watch on the crowd while Dr. von Neefe went to the Information desk. From the rapid gesturing of her hands it was apparent there were no wires waiting for us from either Dr. Weber or the
società.
Why? Had something happened?

She glanced at me briefly, worriedly, as she left the Information desk and strolled toward the entrance. We had instructed the
società
to look for a woman standing by the entrance and stroking her earlobe. She remained there for several minutes performing the movement. No one came.

We searched the crowd nervously.

I had no idea what to think. Had the
società
simply disregarded our message? How could they? The seriousness of our cry for help could not have been misread. Or could it? Had the
società,
viewed as fanatical by the entire network of vampire hunters, in turn seen our telegrams as crank? Had they thought we were joking, making a mockery of their way of thinking?

Finally a man with grizzled black hair and beard, and wearing a disheveled raincoat, approached Dr. von Neefe. He glanced around tensely. It was obvious he was frightened. In accordance with our wire he murmured the secret password to her and in a flash they were both out the door.

I was about to follow when I noticed a man moving through the crowd with a Russian sable coat draped over his arm. I stepped back behind one of the pillars of the station. Within moments another man joined him and said something. Then the other man went back toward the train. I was certain it was they. I waited until the man with the sable coat was looking in the opposite direction, and then swiftly made my way toward the exit.

Under other circumstances I might have been enraptured by the dark streets of Florence. Memories came flooding back. So this was where it all began, where a frail and gentle youth first gazed into a pair of Hashing eyes. Where Leonardo struggled with his passions and where Lorenzo, Il Magnifico, flourished his cape. At another time I might have imagined hoofbeats echoing in these streets, beneath the red-tiled domes and towers of the palazzos, hoofbeats and laughter. But now the dark streets of Florence seemed only threatening to me. At the height of a Medici carnival the vampire had walked these streets, and somewhere in the darkness they still walked.

I discovered Dr. von Neefe and the disheveled and bearded man standing beneath the arches of an ancient building down the street. The man’s face moved into the moonlight as I approached. He was pale and frightened. His eyes were red. Dr. von Neefe nodded to let him know I was to be trusted.

“Do you speak Italian?” she asked.

I shook my head.

“I speak very little.” She turned to him and muttered something. He shook his head sadly. They talked back and forth in a tense and fragmentary manner. The emissary from the infamous
società
was not what I had expected. He had the kind of mournful eyes one expected from the deeply religious. He might have been a scholar. But he seemed most like an inmate from a mental asylum.

During the course of their exchange Dr. von Neefe looked more and more alarmed. She clawed tightly at his arm. The conversation continued for a few more minutes and then finally she turned to me.

“He says the day is at hand,” she said solemnly, almost as if she were under the influence of some drug. “The
società
has been disbanded by the vampire. I can’t quite make out what means they used. He says that its members have been separated and all are in hiding. What has been feared for so long is coming to pass. The vampire are ready to act. The day is at hand.”

I considered her words for several moments, unable to say anything.

She continued her discussion. In her hesitant dialogue I heard her mention the name of Dr. Weber. The disheveled man shook his head sadly. He spoke several words hesitantly and somberly. Dr. von Neefe’s eyes widened in disbelief. She grasped his arm again. Then she repeated the words, drew her head back, and uttered a heartrending cry. She collapsed and I caught her in my arms.

“What is it?” I demanded.

Her lips trembled. “
Leberecht
The vampire have murdered him. The police say he was pushed in front of a train by a madman, but it was the vampire.”

I could not believe it. “What of Ursula? Does he know anything about Ursula?”

Dr. von Neefe used every ounce of her will to compose herself. She struggled to stand, but as she turned toward the man we saw that his eyes were on the station in the distance. I too looked and saw that the vampire carrying the Russian sable coat had come out of the Terminus and was speaking to someone in an antique black
calèche.

“
Dios me libre
,” gasped the disheveled man and instantly the vampire’s eyes sliced through the night. He had spotted us.