Diaries Of The Family Dracul - Children Of The Vampire Part 9

"He fought to pull away from her, but she clasped her arms and legs about him tightly and, with a strength far greater than his, held him fast. Held him fast also with her gaze; his struggling eased and then ceased as he stared, transfixed, into her eyes. Soon he was quiet, wide-eyed, breathing softly, just like little Jan and me.

"And the woman rose from the bed and told him, 'Rise, Stefan, and put on your clothes."

"Like a sleepwalker, he did so, while she dressed so swiftly, my dazzled eyes saw nothing but a silvery blur. And she went over to the crib, leaned down, and took my sleeping child into her arms, then turned to Stefan and said, "Come."

"Still I could not move, could not stop them, could only lie cold and s.h.i.+vering upon the floor while my lover obediently followed and pa.s.sed me without seeing, and soon the three of them were gone.

"Gone. Gone with my baby. . . ." And Gerda covered her eyes and wailed.

And my mother lay sobbing in Arkady's unfamiliar arms. I knew how cruelly the loss of her only grandchild must have weighed on her; yet I was struggling too mightily to free myself from a dark vortex of hysteria to offer comfort.

At the sight of me, Mama straightened and composed herself. Arkady withdrew from her embrace and gazed up at me. "They have taken Stefan and your child; there is nothing further I can do for your wife."

"We must go to the police!" I responded. "I will go myself at once-"

"No!" Mama countered. "What shall it take for you to listen to me, Bram? The police can accomplish no more now than they did yesterday! But this man"- she gestured at Arkady beside her-"saved your brother once. I know he will do so again and bring little Jan home to us."

As she spoke, Arkady rose and stepped over to me until he stood no more than an arm's length away, the black of his cloak contrasting sharply with the unnatural pallour of his skin. "Your mother says she has revealed to you the full truth of the matter; yet you cannot believe. It is imperative that I have your belief, and your trust."

"Sir," said I, nearly mad with despair, "you have neither."

In reply, he slipped off his cloak and waistcoat and set them on the bed; clad only in s.h.i.+rt sleeves, he turned towards me. "Doctor Van Helsing. Will you listen to my heart?"

"I have no time for such idiocy!" I cried, my voice breaking. "We must stop them, find them before they harm my son-"

He looked into my eyes with a gaze so intent, so determined, yet so oddly sympathetic that I fell silent. "I, too, am a father," he said quietly. "And I have lost a father, a brother, and a son. I understand full well your despair. I swear to you: I will find Jan and Stefan. But to do so, I need your help-"

"Not him!" Mama pleaded suddenly, with such vehemence that we two men turned our faces swiftly to stare at her in surprise. "Not him! You cannot take him with you, Arkady. I have one son already in danger; I will not lose Bram, too!"

He listened sombrely, then replied, "Shall we then leave him here with his wife, where she can serve as Vlad's spy against him? No place is safe for any of us now, Mary. I do not relish leaving you behind. But Bram is younger and physically stronger dian you and better able to help me with the gruesome task that awaits us."

She fell silent and let the defeat and sorrow on her face serve as her reply.

Arkady sighed in acknowledgement of the unhappy situation. "For his own protection, he must believe." He spread his arms. "You can see what scepticism has purchased me." And he turned back towards me once more. "Doctor Van Helsing: Will you listen to my heart?"

The sincerity and sympathy in his eyes, the soothing undercurrent in his voice, worked together to overcome the near-hysterical frustration of that moment.

Oddly quieted, I leaned forward and pressed an ear to the center of his chest.

It was utterly, completely silent; the torso of a dead man.

I drew back slowly in amazement, my gaze fixed upon his face, and gently pressed my index and middle fingertips against his carotid artery.

No pulse whatsoever, and the skin was cool as dear Lilli's corpse.

I lowered my arm, dazed.

"Shall I perform for you?" he asked. "Levitate, as I did when I appeared at your window to- night? Vanish before your eyes? Transform myself into mist?"

"No," I answered dully. "That will not be necessary." A cold layer of confusion had settled atop my panic over little Jan's disappearance. Gerda's story, Stefan's, Mama's, this stranger Arkady's: their impossible tales were all of a piece, too coherent to be the result of individual delusions.

There was nothing left for me to do but trust them. I took my place beside Gerda and listened to Arkady's bizarre instructions of how we might best protect ourselves from this supernatural threat. Listened, too, to his promise that we would find Stefan, as soon as he knew whither my brother was bound. In the meantime, we should rest.But first, he tried to extract a solemn promise from my mother-that she would remain in Amsterdam with Gerda and would not follow; for to do so would endanger not only her but Stefan and all the rest of us. Vlad would certainly endeavour to use Gerda against those of us who remained here; and someone had to stay and care for her.

"Then let me go with you," my mother cried, "and let Bram care for his wife! He does not understand Vlad as I do."

To which Arkady merely replied, "We shall discuss this when the time comes. For now, you must all rest while you can."

And he would discuss the matcer no further. When he left, I took Mama and poor Gerda downstairs, knowing they would not feel safe in their violated bedrooms. I lit a fire in the hearth and dressed my wife, like a child, in her night-gown, then with blankets and pillows upon the sofa and floor, situated them all so that they might sleep. But Gerda was so pitifully wide-eyed and trembling that I administered tincture of opium, which she drank down obediently. Mama refused, saying as always that she preferred wakefulness to the poppy's effects. As for myself, I sat in Papa's chair, wondering what he would have made of the strange events that had beseiged his family in the week after his death.

When at last the women's eyes closed, I took myself to the kitchen for coffee: I knew I should not sleep to-night, nor for some nights to come, and I had much thinking to do. I sat for an hour, perhaps more, at the table, with my troubled forehead in my hands, surrounded by a storm of thoughts. And after a time, slowly, my overwhelmed senses perceived that I was not alone. I lifted my face to find Arkady sitting silently across from me.

"Forgive me," he said at my startled reaction. "I had to speak to you alone, away from your mother. I have always known where Stefan is ultimately bound. I can go alone and retrieve your brother and son--but their rescue is meaningless. For Vlad will only pursue Stefan again; the danger will persist so long as your brother lives."

"Then what can be done?" I asked.

"Vlad must be destroyed-and that I cannot do." He fixed his gaze steadily upon me. "He- and I-can die only by a human hand. But finding a mortal with the courage and willingness to commit the deed has proven impossible."

I contemplated this silently a time, then said: "You want me to disobey my mother's wishes.

To accompany you. To help deal with this Zsuzsanna and . . . Vlad."

"Yes. I know Mary's determination once she has made up her mind; she will never permit you to leave unless she comes with you. The deception is necessary in order for her to remain safe."

In truth, I cared nothing about these so-called monsters, Zsuzsanna and Vlad, about the threat they posed humankind, and I had no intention of setting off on some bizarre supernatural quest to destroy them. But I cared about my little son and my brother and was desperate to do something, anything, on their behalf. And so I said, "Then I will go with you. When shall we leave?"

"Now," he said.

I have written all this on the train. I sit alone, gazing out from time to time at the banks of the dark muddy Rhine. Dawn broke some hours ago, and Arkady has closeted himself in his berth with instructions that he not be disturbed until sunset.The recording of it all makes it no less difficult to believe. To the contrary, the events seem more outlandish pondered in full daylight. But I must find something to constantly occupy my mind; the alternative is to go mad with worry over what has become of my little son.

Would that I could-madness would be such sweet relief. But sanity will not release its grip on me.

My life is shattered. Gerda has retreated again into silence, as profound as that in which I first found her; I fear she will never return. To-day I have no father, no brother, no wife, no son.

Here is what, at this sunny hour, I believe: that I have gone clinically insane. That I have fallen prey to a grandiose delusion that pits good against evil and includes Mama, Stefan, Jan, and Gerda in its lunatic embrace.

But this delusion is now my world, and I am required to obey its laws or suffer the consequences; therefore, I shall do whatever is necessary to win back my brother and son.

G.o.d, in Whom I do not believe, help me.

Chapter 8.

The Journal of Mary Tsepesh Van Helsing 22 NOVEMBER.

So now payment comes for all the years of deception, for all the years I have hidden from my sons the truth. You are stolen again, dear Stefan, and there is nothing I can do, nothing I can say; I must simply bear the responsibility for any harm done you to my grave.

Bram, forgive me! I wished only to protect you- but now you, too, have lost everything. . . .

I must bear responsibility as well for what has become of my dear Arkady, for had I not fired the shot that launched him into eternity, he would not be as he is now, would not have spent the past twenty-six years in such hideous purgatory.

I thought not to see him for some time, but he came again last night as I lay upon the drawing-room floor, while Gerda snored softly upon the sofa, lost to the effects of opium.

I had fallen into a light troubled doze beside the hearth. Cold fingers brushed my lips, and I woke instantly, terrified that Vlad had come; but I knew when I gazed up into those loving brown eyes, flecked with green, that it was my Arkady. In such things, I am not easily fooled.

"Hush," he whispered in English, and stroked my forehead soothingly. I calmed and sat up to look about me-and grew anxious again at the realisation that Bram was not there.

"He cannot sleep," Arkady said, smiling faintly in rea.s.surance. "He has gone to the kitchen.

I waited for an opportunity to see you alone." I looked toward the hallway and drew some small measure of comfort to see light coming from the direction of the kitchen. Arkady took my hand-I have learnt not to shudder at its coldness-and held it to his breast. "Mary, my darling ... I have come because we will not meet again."

"But we must," I whispered, my heart at once quickening its pace, for though I dreaded seeing him thus-a monster, his lips stained with the blood of his victims-he was also my beloved, still young, still beautiful, miraculously returned to me from the dead. "We must!

When you bring Stefan home-"

He held my gaze steadily, his face bathed in the warm wavering glow from the fire as he said, "Stefan will return alone-after Vlad-and I-are destroyed. I promise you this." A wistful glimmer of pain pa.s.sed over his features before he added, "Forgive me. This is pure selfishness of my part. I should have let you sleep, should not have troubled you further; you and your family have already suffered enough! But I could not leave without seeing you once more." And he smiled sadly as he reached out to fondly stroke my cheek. "A sight to comfort a man for all eternity."

An eternity in h.e.l.l, I knew, and cried out softly. But Gerda did not stir.

My heart has been so badly broken and mended again-stronger than ever now because of its dreadful wounds-diat I thought it could never break again. But at the sight of his face, at the knowledge that he was taking his leave forever, beyond death, it shattered.

For the man, not the monster, I reached out and slipped his cloak from his shoulders, unfastened the stays of his collar. With my hands, I freed the soft, s.h.i.+ning skin of his neck, his chest, and with my lips, found the sweet hollow at the joining of his shoulder and throat and kissed it. Kissed it to bless it, for I knew it had once been profaned by a wicked, hurtful pair of lips; kissed it to heal it, though I know there is only one fatal way to repair that dark, now-invisible wound.

Then I pressed my cheek there, utterly unafraid, uncringing at the coldness of skin that had once been so warm, and gazed up to see him looking down at me, his eyes filled with tears as bright as diamonds.

We said not a word; our hearts were too full, but we spoke nonetheless, by kiss and caress.

Have I sinned? Shall I be d.a.m.ned for loving a monster?

He is my husband; and for that moment, he was not immortal, not undead, but my Arkady, alive and pa.s.sionate and generous in his love, and I his young wife, emerged from this coc.o.o.n of sagging flesh and greying hair. The years and all the evil they have wrought fell away, and we were alone.

I lay with him there on the floor beside the hearth, unmindful of Gerda, of Bram, unmindful of anything save him, save that cold flesh pressed against mine. And my heart breaks now more than ever before, for I know the truth of his existence: that he is still capable of love, both physical and spiritual. His immortality has purchased him no freedom from desire, or loneliness, or grief, and for the decades I thought him sleeping in sweet oblivion, he has suffered all that I have from our separation-and more.

So we made love desperately, silently, clutching each other as though it were truly possible to hold on forever. At the end, I remember the bright flare of pleasure, and the world fading into darkness as I lost myself, drowsy and content, in the ocean of his eyes.

His eyes, his eyes . . .

I woke to an empty house: Empty, I say, though Gerda lay in it; but her eyes are dreadful, vacant. Her heart and soul are not here.

And Arkady and Bram were gone. My love! your pa.s.sion was sincere, but you used the distraction to mesmerise me. You have deceived me . . . and I you.

And for our deceptions, we and untold others shall pay.Chapter 9 The Journal of Stefan Van Helsing 22 NOVEMBER.

I woke to rhythmic rocking and the haunting strains of a lullaby.

For one dreamy moment, I fancied myself a child again, cradled in my mother's arms-until I opened my eyes to dappled twilight and the loveliest woman I have ever seen, seated across from me. Her skin was the colour of milk, her hair s.h.i.+ning indigo, and in her arms she held a child swaddled in a blanket. This madonna was arrayed in fetching finery: a fitted velvet dress of French blue, its daringly low-cut satin bodice trimmed with seed pearls, and a small velvet cap with a net veil that could not hide her beauty. Such large perfect eyes, framed by fine arching brows and long jet lashes! Such perfect full crimson lips. . . .

I longed at once to be the child at her breast, and I listened, captivated, as she sang with a sweet clear voice in a language I had never heard. Italian, I thought at first, but it was peppered with strange, distinctly Slavic sibilants.

I straightened in my seat and found myself once again upon a train, in private first-cla.s.s accommodations; beyond the window, an early winter landscape glided past. Not Holland, I realised, for there was no sign of flat lowlands, of polders, dams, windmills, or sea; instead, there were evergreens and the naked limbs of trees against distant snow-capped mountains.

The sight brought with it a rush of fear, and the memory of all that had transpired the night before. I had seen this woman before-when I had lain with Gerda, only to see my lover transform herself into this hypnotically beautiful stranger. . . . Gerda, Gerda, my darling!

What has become of you?

The siren across from me ceased her singing and smiled prettily despite my obvious dismay. "Good evening, Stefan," she said in perfect German. "Did you sleep well?"

"Who are you?" I asked, trying to hide my shame at the memory of our nocturnal encounter. My tone was harsh, accusing, but she laughed as though I had said something quite witty.

"I am your aunt, Zsuzsanna," said she, looking me up and down with a frankly lecherous air that was entirely unnerving. "And a pity, too, for it means you shall probably be too scandalised now to repeat last night's behaviour. Nephew or not, you really are quite a beautiful young man."

I felt my cheeks flame as I demanded, "Where are we?"

"Pleased to meet you, too. Really, dear, do you expect me to answer such a question after the shocking discovery I made last night?"

I stared at her, perplexed. "Discovery?"

"Do you always speak in questions? The fact that you're tied to Arkady, dear. My brother.

And though I love him mightily, I saw the cut on your finger-on a specific finger in such a specific place that I can't believe it's coincidence. I really don't care to tell your father where we are at the moment. Of course, he surely already knows where we're going."

"And where is that?"She smiled, revealing dazzling sharp teeth. "Why, the land beyond the forest."

The child in her arms stirred then and whimpered faintly; she patted its back with a lace- gloved hand. Despite the blanket that hid its features, I recognised the cry at once, with pure horror. "Little Jan! Dear G.o.d, you have stolen the baby!"

She blinked at me, her eyes wide. "It's not yours, is it?"

I straightened, indignant, and felt a rush of warmth to my face. "Of course not! It's my brother's."

"Thank goodness." She sighed, then smiled down at the baby and cooed: "Jan. So that's your name, is it, my little fellow? Handsome Jan, my little Dutch boy."

"Why have you taken him? Why have you done such a cruel thing?"

It was her turn to take offense. "I would never be cruel to him, never harm him! I intend to take very good care of him!" As if to make her point, she lifted up her veil and leaned down to kiss the child.

Her face was half-hidden by the blanket; but I could see from the movement of her cheekbones that she had parted her lips. At once I leapt to my feet and grabbed the child, thinking to wrest it from her.

Her grip was twice as strong as mine-nay, stronger, and I came away empty-handed. But the soft blanket that half-covered her prize's face had fallen away, and I saw the boy quite clearly: a nonmedical observer might have thought him sleeping, but I knew him to be in shock. His round little face was ashen, his parted cherub lips blue-grey, his eyes closed; beneath the fringe of golden lashes pressed against his pale cheek were dark half-moon shadows. His breathing was shallow, swift.

He was dying.

At the realisation, all chivalrous instincts towards the gentler s.e.x left me. I tried once more to take the child, this time with every ounce of strength I could muster. It was not enough; and so, fueled by anguish and adrenaline, I struck out with my fist directly at Zsuzsanna's head.