Wolf Moon Rising (16 page)

meddled in their family aff airs and caused a lot of trouble with

his snooping. David had always wondered what had become of

him; and now, he had a brother?

The entire family was gathered in the drawing room where

the gray light from a snowy day leaked through the leaded

glass and along the square panels of the walls. Th

e air, as usual,

was overheated, the fi re ablaze. Mrs. Johnson and Willie hov-

ered together in the foyer just outside the double doors, Mrs.

Johnson with her self- important air and Willie holding his cap

and scuffi

ng the rug with the side of his shoe.

His aunt Elizabeth was perched on the velvet settee, the

light from the window falling across her hands in her lap, her

back very straight. Somehow, it made David tired to look at her

perfect posture. She was done up as usual, a bunch of glossy curls

on her head and two strands of pearls at her neck. Her skin,

David had to admit, was smooth for an older lady who could

have been wrinkled. She always dressed like she was ready for a

party, and he could smell her magnolia perfume seeping across

the room, mingling with the smoky odor of the fi re.

Roger was standing by the fi replace in a morning jacket,

vest, and perfectly pressed gray pants, a look of stern authority

etched on his square face. He was obviously feeling important

this morning. Quentin had drawn back into the shadows beside

the bookcase, his black brows furred over his glowering fea-

tures, probably annoyed by having to be awake at such an early

hour. David noticed that his shirt was stained, his jacket was

rumpled, and he already held a glass of sherry in his hand. He

looked like he had been out on the town all night.

Carolyn took her usual seat at the fi replace bench, where

she had left her racket. She crossed her legs and tapped her foot

ner vous ly. Barnabas and Dr. Hoff man were missing. Julia had

been away for days, maybe weeks, and Barnabas, well— only

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David knew where Barnabas was.

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Standing in the center of the room was a man who could eas-

ily have been Nicholas Blair, the same iron black hair gone white

at the temples and the Errol Flynn mustache, the same beady

twinkle in his eye, the same small straight teeth. But he seemed

less heavyset and more cheerful. He turned to David and said,

“Ah, the young man of the family,” and came to shake hands,

which he did with ferocity. His palm was cold and dry. “Marvel-

ous to make your acquaintance, David.”

“Sure, you too.” Blair’s look was a little too intimate for a

fi rst meeting, and there was an odd tremor David could feel in

his fi ngers.

“I understand you are planning for Prince ton in the fall.

Fine university.”

“Well, I . . . I mean, I still have the SATs.”

“David is a brilliant student,” intoned Elizabeth. “He has

been tutored at home so there have been no grade point aver-

ages to place him at the head of the class, but his early scores

show quite clearly that he would have been valedictorian at

Collinsport High School. He made a perfect six hundred in

En glish, and—”

Carolyn broke in. “Roger, can you tell us why we’re here?”

“Of course. Let’s see. Where to begin,” said Roger. “To catch

you up to date, David, I have been approached by this gentleman

here, Nathanial Blair, the brother of an old acquaintance, Nich-

olas Blair— you remember him, I’m sure, a most fascinating and

peculiar gentleman who gave us no small degree of trouble, I’m

afraid. All that business with the Dark Side.”

Roger cleared his throat and continued. “However, this Mr.

Blair, this Mr.
Nathanial
Blair, has apologized for his unfortunate brother’s indiscretions and he pledges to be a very diff erent sort of person indeed. Mr. Nathanial Blair is a scientist, an an-thropologist and physicist, and a college professor. We were just

discussing his meritorious career before you arrived.

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“Yes, and what could such an important person possibly

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want with us, Roger,” Carolyn said, tugging on her short skirt.

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“He . . . well, that is . . . why don’t I let you explain, Mr.

Blair.”

“I’d be happy to.”

Nathanial Blair walked to the writing desk and leaned

against the edge, crossing his arms over his chest. He seemed to

be quite at home for a visitor in a strange house, David thought.

Damn, he looked just like Nicholas, maybe not so heavy, hair a

little grayer, but that same fl at smile. His widow’s peak was

prominent as were the tents of his eyebrows, and David won-

dered if they were dyed. His voice was eerily familiar, rasping,

seeming to come from stiff lips and a tight throat, the pronun-

ciation precise. “I am very grateful that you have allowed me to

come to Collinwood and talk to you about my ideas.”

I haven’t allowed you a thing
, David thought, but he was

curious in spite of his anxious thoughts of Jackie.

Blair stuck a thumbnail under his front tooth and bit at it.

His nails were yellow and stubby— all bitten down to the quick.

Th

en he placed his hands on the desk, as if to balance himself.

“I have been interested in many things,” he began. “I have

written a book about a tribe in Papua, New Guinea, called the

Asmats— marvelous people. I actually lived with them for a

year. I have written another book on the mechanical techniques

of the moon landing, and I have predicted that there will be

humans living there by the year 2011. But I won’t bore you. My

latest publication is an inquiry into the adventures of Castaneda

and his drug- induced hallucinations. I am attempting to dis-

cover whether his visions can be verifi ed or if they are simply a

charade. My interests vary and have always been backed by

strenuous scientifi c investigation. But lately I have become bored with the factual world of science and anthropology. After a long

conversation with my brother, I became interested in the occult,

and I have chosen to go in another direction. I want to write

another book, this time on the paranormal.”

“Oh my goodness,” said Elizabeth.

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“What’s that?” asked Carolyn.

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“Oh, I’m sure you know. Th

e existence of ghosts, were-

wolves, vampires.”

David felt his heart jump and he gripped the back of a chair.

“Well, I hope you will forgive me, but that is absurd,” Eliz-

abeth said, glancing over at Roger. “I don’t mind what you write

about, Mr. Blair, honestly I don’t, but what could that possibly

have to do with us?”

Blair got down from the desk and began to pace. David

found his nonchalance annoying. A stranger should have shown

more deference, a touch of humility. Quentin came to the small

table beside the armchair where the sherry was kept and poured

himself another glass. David thought he could see his hand

shaking and was shocked to see his face, which was unusually

dark with what looked like bruises.

“I’m sure you have heard,” Blair continued, “of the recent at-

tacks in the village. Unexplained murders of the most grisly sort.”

Elizabeth caught her breath.

“Get to the point,” Quentin’s voice rang out.

“I don’t believe these are ordinary murders. Some animal,

or some human form of animal perhaps—”

“Nonsense.” Roger was growing perturbed. “Look here, my

good man, any sort of hom i cide will be well investigated by our

local police.”

“Not as well as by me,” answered Blair. His teeth gleamed

as he spoke and David felt a twinge of disgust. “I have exam-

ined the corpses, and several bear the unmistakable signs of— if

you will forgive a conjecture so incredible— of the vampire.”

“Great God Almighty,” stormed Roger.

“What sorts of signs?” asked Quentin dryly.

“Bodies drained of blood, fang marks on the neck. Th

ere is

no animal that does that.”

“But a vampire? Are you completely out of your mind?” Roger

puff ed out his chest and drew in his chin.

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David, however, felt a shiver creep over his body. He didn’t

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know whether he believed in vampires. But if there was one, it

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could only be Barnabas. Th

e idea lifted the hair on the back of

his neck, and suddenly the hidden mysteries of his family fl ut-

tered across his mind like the pages of a book.

“No, I am perfectly sane,” Blair responded. “And as for any

connection with your family, well, don’t try to deny it. It’s well

known that the Collinses have kept secrets; disturbing stories

circulate through the village. You know you are isolated out

here in this large, decaying mansion, and that you are ostra-

cized by the townspeople.”

“Now look here, Dr. Blair—,” began Roger, but Quentin

interrupted. “Roger is the judge and the jury,” he said. “Always

the protector of the hallowed Collins name.”

Blair nodded his assent. “Ostracized for good reason. Many

suspicious activities have been covered up over the years. But

the police turn a blind eye because of the family’s prestige, and

this charming town has a good summer trade of tourists seek-

ing antiques and sometimes a thrill or two. So they keep the

stories simmering quietly.”

David, who had been listening with dismay to these last

remarks, spoke in a tone he hoped was nonchalant. “How do

you know so much about us?”

Nathanial turned to the young man eagerly. “Th

e Collinses

have been written about in psychic journals, and, although I’m

sure you are not aware of it, you have aroused great interest

among those who pursue the occult. Members of your family

have been thought to be telepathic, clairvoyant, or simply mysti-

cal. You are suspected to have struggled with evil and destruc-

tive forces beyond your control. Over the years there have been

stories circulated as to the presence of witches, time travelers,

dabblers in immortality, and yes, even vampires in your midst. I

think there was even a short- lived TV show based on your fam-

ily’s past.”

Th

e man did know a lot, thought David. “And you have

decided to pursue these rumors?”

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Outside the window, the snow began to roil with greater

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fury, lighting the somber faces of the family members with

fl ickering glimmers, as though a pale mirror ball was slowly re-

volving in the center of the room. Th

e wind whined and a blast

spiraling down the chimney caused the fi re to sputter and fl ame

up. Carolyn jumped to her feet with a cry and snatched her

racket away. “Mother,” she said, “I have a lesson.”

“In the snow?” asked Blair, smiling at her a little too inti-

mately.

“Just a moment, darling,” said Elizabeth. “Go on, Dr. Blair.”

“Yes, well, now that there have been a new series of inexpli-

cable killings here in Collinsport, your family is being spoken

of again, and not with kindness. It is most unjust. As a scientist

and a physician, I seek your permission to investigate certain

members of your family. I believe there is a vampire at loose in

the village of whom you have no knowledge but who may do you

harm.”

Roger groaned in irritation at the word
vampire.
But as

Blair droned on David became more agitated, although he made

an eff ort not to show it. Jackie had told him she was a witch,

although he had thought she was teasing him, and, yes, he had

seen what might have been fang marks on Antoinette’s throat

the night before. Inexplicably, Barnabas had chosen to sleep in a

casket. All that would never be spoken of normally, not in his

family, but what if Blair was to discover these things?

“You must not become alarmed about the vampire,” Blair

was saying. “I mean to fi nd him out and destroy him.”

“Disgusting,” said Roger, rising and turning away. “And com-

pletely incomprehensible.”

“Again. What does this have to do with us? No one here is a

vampire,” said Carolyn, thoroughly exasperated.

Nathanial smiled at her indulgently. “It’s very simple. I would

like to uncover your secrets once and for all, rid the family of its curse, if you will, and restore it to its entitled place in history.”

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David felt defl ated, as if he had known the answer to a ques-

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tion in a classroom and another student had yelled it out fi rst.

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