Dr. Seward's Diary 4 SEPTEMBER. A terrible day all round. Dismissed the attendant just before sunrise so that I could take the professor in to see Renfield without anyone else knowing. Van Helsing thinks that our zoophagous patient is sensitive to the vampire's movements and may be of some help in tracking it.

The patient remained quite calm when I entered, so I signalled Van Helsing to come in. He did and, to my surprise, had Renfield in a hypnotic state in less than a minute.

"Where are you?" the professor asked him, with admirable authority.

"I do not know," Renfield replied, in a tone of surprising dignity; when he is calm, he looks quite the cultured gentleman-except for the unkempt hair and beard. (We dare not trust him with a razor or even a comb, and he hasn't the patience to let the attendant groom him.) But comb the silver hair and shave the salt-and-pepper beard, and beneath them is a man with strong aristocratic features and intelligent ice-blue eyes beneath severe black brows. According to his wife, he is fifty-nine years old, but extremely well-muscled and fit for his age. (The attendant- and now Van Helsing and I-can confirm that!) "I think I am in a closed box. There is only darkness, and quiet- except for birds singing."

As if on cue, a robin just outside the window burst into song; the professor and I both smiled at the coincidence.

"Are you in London?" Van Helsing asked.

The question seemed to confuse Renfield. Eyes still closed, he frowned deeply and hesitated.

"No... yes... I don't know. What do you mean by London?"

It was the professor's turn to be confused. "The city. London, the largest city in England."

"Yes, yes," our madman replied irritably. "I know what London is! I simply don't know-"

A c.o.c.k crowed in the distance; abruptly, Renfield sprang to his feet and rushed the professor with alarming speed. Before I could move, he had his broad hands around Van Helsing's neck and was throttling him, whilst the professor gripped his attacker's wrists and tried to break free.

But already the professor's face had turned bright apoplectic red; he could take in no air at all, could only emit the most dreadful strangled gasps. I rang for the attendant at once, then leapt into the fray, grasping Renfield's forearms just above Van Helsing's white-knuckled hands.

In a matter of seconds (I suppose, though it seemed hours), the attendant raced in and threw the whole of his ma.s.sive bulk against Renfield, smashing him back against the wall.

Soon the patient was restrained in a strait-jacket, while I tended to Van Helsing, who gulped down air while gently ma.s.saging his violated neck. I was concerned that there had been real damage done, for beneath his fingers there were dark red marks upon the skin that would soon turn to bruises. But he waved me away, and soon recovered enough to speak.

He is headed today for the country cottage. I am concerned about him being alone there; if his theory that Renfield is controlled by the vampires is correct, he is in grave danger indeed.

Chapter 9.

Zsuzsanna Dracul's Diary 13 AUGUST.

I write this on the boat, on my way back to London after a brief visit to Amsterdam. (The Dutch public transportation is so clean.) It was Elisabeth's idea at first forme to go. We had both been out of sorts for some time; I have felt my own strength slipping, despite the fact that I have had my fill of "blue" blood. Elisabeth, too, seems paler, weaker, and so irritable that I have started avoiding her. It frightens me; I worry that Vlad has cast some sort of spell on us. London is still full of myriad marvels, but I begin to lose interest in what previously delighted me. How many new frocks can one have? I have a closetful. They are all lovely and I enjoy wearing them-but my desire for them is now sated, and I grow restless...

Vlad has no doubt arrived at the English coast, but still he has not appeared at any of his properties-Carfax, Mile End, Bermondsey, Piccadilly. We visit them every day, hoping to find him; and every day, our hopes are crushed.

Some evenings ago, Elisabeth approached me smiling for the first time in many days, with a look of determination on her face. "Vlad is delayed," she said, "and we are both growing terribly anxious waiting. But why must we." You say that you know where Van Helsing lives. Why not surprise him there during the daytime, and bring him here? For if Vlad knows we have Van Helsing, he will be forced to deal with us."

"Why not simply kill the doctor?" I countered, for 1 was eager to do so, and have my revenge upon little Jan's murderer.

She clicked her tongue in disapproval. "But what fun is that, Zsuzsanna? If Van Helsing dies, Vlad merely crumbles to dust. No, we must use Van Helsing to draw him to us. I, for one, intend to witness both their deaths, and to inflict as much suffering upon them as they have upon you!"

"Very well," I agreed-though I was secretly determined to kill him anyway. "When shall we leave?"

"Not both of us, my pet. You go; you alone know Van Helsing and his house. I know Vlad, and so I will wait here for him; someone must check his houses every day."

The idea of leaving her alone gnawed at me. From Dunya, I knew that she was capable of infidelity; even more distressing was the thought of the torture-chamber beneath the house. Was her irritation due to her eagerness to test it? She had sworn to me that she would not, that she merely "collected" such horrific devices for amus.e.m.e.nt; and certainly, I had yet to find them used.

Still, I did not trust her.

Trust or no, logic won out. Within a day, I found myself standing at Van Helsing's door. I did not disguise myself, merely wore a hat with a bit of a veil, so that if he peered out, he would not immediately recognise me. All I needed was for him to open the door a crack-no more- and I would easily strike a killing blow.

I rang, and a full minute later, the door swung open; the woman who answered was steel-haired and square of jaw. Mary? I almost asked, but this could not be she; this woman was far too heavy and tall. For an instant, confusion reigned: Had I come to the wrong house? Or had the Van Helsings moved?

No; this was the house, and the bra.s.s nameplate on the door proclaimed A. VAN HELSING, M.D., with a phrase in Dutch I could not decipher."I am looking for Dr. Van Helsing," I said tentatively in English; the woman frowned sternly at me and shook her head. I then translated the phrase into French, without success; but my German evoked a warm smile.

"Ah," she said, with a native accent and obvious relish to hear her own tongue spoken, "your German is excellent! But I am afraid the doctor is not taking appointments at this time."

And she pointed to the bra.s.s plate above the bell, then laughed at herself. "But of course, you do not speak Dutch!"

I smiled prettily and drew back my veil a bit to expose her to both my beauty and entrancing eyes. "I am not a patient, but a relative, here to visit."

She clicked her tongue. "Ah, poor dear! I hope you have not come a long way-"

"From Vienna." I knew before she told me that the professor was not here; my heart sank at the realisation.

"He has gone"-she paused, and seemed to catch herself. I tried my best to put her in a trance, but she kept glancing away uncooperatively. This was a very willful woman-'

'abroad.

I did not hide my bitter disappointment. "May I ask where?"

She averted her eyes-lying, of course. "Many places. I do not have an itinerary." And then when she glanced back at me, I detected a sudden spark of suspicion in her gaze. "You are a relative? How so?"

"His sister-in-law."

Her eyes narrowed. "I have lived in Amsterdam many years, and have known of the doctor for some time. He has no siblings."

I sighed in honest frustration, deciding that if she did not let me in within a matter of seconds, I would break her thick neck. "I know it sounds strange-but I am actually his mother's sister-in-law. You see, Mary's brother was much younger than she, and-"

The ice melted away, leaving her with a more welcoming but oddly tragic expression. "Ah, poor Mary...

I feigned alarmed interest. "Has she died? Bram is such a dreadful correspondent; he never tells me anything. I wrote him weeks ago telling him I was coming, but he never replied-"

"My poor dear! How dreadful for you to learn this way. No, poor Mrs. Van Helsing-Madam Mary, as I call her-is not dead. But I am afraid she is not far from it. She is mortally ill with a cancer."

I put my lacy-gloved hand to my mouth and gasped in horror. "So she is here?"

"Yes, yes, would you like to see her?"

I kept my lips covered an instant longer, lest she should see them curve slightly upward in a smile. "Very much. I am sad to miss Bram, but..."

But I could learn a great deal from his mother, who was no doubt privy to where he had gone. This nurse was clearly operating under basic orders, and probably had no idea of our beloved Bram's true vocation.

So she swung the door open and let me inside, where she squeezed my hand with Germanic force, and vigorously pumped it while introducing herself as Frau Koehler.

The shadowed foyer was lined with bookshelves, all filled beyond capacity, some tomes lying atop rows of other volumes. The good Frau led me back through another dusty, book- lined room to the staircase, where she hesitated.

"Let me go and tell Madam Mary you are here." She blinked at me for a moment before I realised she was awaiting a response from me.

"Tell her"-I paused, searching my memory for my sister-in-law's maiden name-"tell her Mrs. Windham has come to visit."

Frau Koehler nodded, then lifted her skirts and climbed heavily up the groaning stairs. I heard her move across the creaking wooden floor, then pause to murmur a soft question to her charge.

But I detected no reply. As I waited, I espied between all the shelves a closed door, and felt inexplicably drawn. I slipped through the crack and found myself in the good doctor's study, surrounded by more books-these all esoteric in nature. Our brave vampire-killer, it seemed, had made an extensive study of magic in order to better accomplish his work.

There was also a large oaken desk, with a number of papers and telegrams in the cubicles; I longed to look through them all to gain some clue as to Van Helsing's whereabouts, but above my head came more creaks, and the frau's heavy footfall.

I immediately slipped through the door again and by the time she smiled down from the top of the stairs, I was in the exact spot she had left me.

"Madam Mary is awake and will see you." Whilst I dashed up the stairs to join her, she added: "I cannot promise you that she will entirely understand who you are. She speaks little, and when she does, she is generally confused; I gave her an injection of morphia for the pain not long ago, so she is sleepy as well. Be patient."

"I shall," I answered warmly, though at the moment I was thinking of Mary not at all, but rather how I might convince Frau Koehler to leave. I was quite sated from the night before, to the point that the thought of dining upon her stalwart German blood made me queasy. So I was not inclined to use supernatural force upon the Frau; one quick drink from Mary, that was all I could manage, and then I would be gone.

My cavalier att.i.tude vanished once I stepped into the room and was greeted by the duelling smells of p.i.s.s and foul s.h.i.t. Frau Koehler had done what she could to minimise it: the window was open, a candle flickered in the slight breeze, and a bedpan soaked in a tub full of soapy water.

It was all I could do to keep from covering my nose with my kerchief; but Frau Koehler seemed to notice it not at all. She stepped over to the bed, smiled with genuine affection, and took her patient's thin, limp hand. "Mary. Here is your sister."

I moved forward to take the German nurse's place, and clasped the dying woman's cold, bony hand. Her eyes had been closed, but at the sound of Koehler's voice, they fluttered open and gazed upon me. I was prepared at once to put a glamour upon her, and make her see an entirely different woman, so that she would not cry out in fear and alert the nurse- Oh, Mary! When last I saw you, you were strong and young and beautiful, with shining gold hair and smooth skin, and your little son Bram in your belly. I loved you then; loved you even after my Change, for you had been so good to me in my life. I have come to realise that you and Kasha and Papa were the only ones who truly ever loved me-me, the homely cripple, the spindly spinster who evoked from men nothing but pity.Now you are struck down by cruel Time. I have killed many in my strange existence, and stared often into the eyes of Death Herself; but I had never before seen Her linger so long.

This would be me, I thought, had I not received the gift of immortality. An unlovely old woman, dying. I looked upon the crone in the bed and did not recognise her, she with her coa.r.s.e white hair knitted into a long braid that lay from shoulder to waist; the hair on the scalp, however, was broken off in places and had come partially undone, giving her a wild, unkempt air. The image came to me of a delicate bird perishing from starvation. Her smooth skin was sallow, sunken skeletally at the cheeks, pinched at the nose, and lined with wrinkles, especially beneath the eyes-eyes still blue as the sea, though the whites were jaundiced.

Eyes dulled by pain and suffering, eyes that recognised me.

I intended to silence her before Frau Koehler was alerted, to put her under my spell so that she would forget that she knew me, so that she would see another woman altogether. But I was too stricken by the sight of her to react immediately, and too distracted as the nurse slid a rocking-chair bedside and bade me sit.

I sat, and cast my gaze again upon the old woman who had once been Mary, ready to do my supernatural work. But those blue eyes-they looked back at me not with fear, not with hatred or revulsion, but such honest warm affection that tears of grat.i.tude stung my eyes.

This was not the fleeting love evoked by s.e.xual pa.s.sion or mutual need or convenience; this was love for its own sake.

"Mary?" I asked softly, and to my utter surprise, tears fell hot onto my cheeks-I, a hundred, a thousand times a murderess, so callous that I thought I would never know untainted compa.s.sion again. "Do you really know me? It is j__"

"Zsuzsanna," she breathed, in a trembling, reedy voice that broke my heart; never for an instant did the sweetness in her gaze waver. "How beautiful you are..."

I lowered my face into my lace-covered hands and wept. She was adrift in the past and remembered only the mortal Zsuzsanna, I realised, and had forgotten my Change; even so, I was touched by her welcome. But I had another reason for allowing myself the outburst.

Pathos aside, I was compelled to achieve my objective: knowledge of Bram.

Frau Koehler stepped up behind me and laid a broad hand upon my shoulder. "My dear... I know how difficult this must be for you," she murmured. "May I bring you a gla.s.s of sherry?"

I lifted my head and wiped away the tears with my kerchief. "Thank you. But... may I have a cup of tea instead?" That would allow me the time I needed.

The Frau's swift acquiescence cheered me at once; she departed down the stairs for the kitchen, while I leaned closer to Mary and took her hand in both of mine.

"My darling," I whispered. "I cannot bear to see you suffer so. But I can take all your pain away-forever."

I moved forward and down, and pressed my lips against the soft, loose folds at her neck; the ammonia-sharp odour of urine was overwhelming there, as were the strong sensations of Mary's goodness, her fear of dying, her sincere love for those who had gone before her and those who would be left behind. Death's approach had stripped away all else, until only the essence of the woman remained.

But something held me back. Perhaps it was the knowledge of the woman she had been, or the powerful sense of goodness and tragic suffering emanating from her;I knew that the true Mary would rather die than turn to evil.

Indeed, she drew her hand from mine and, with heartrending weakness, put her palms against my shoulders and tried in vain to push me away. "Please, no... I have lost two sons and a husband. Is that not enough?" She said it dreamily, calmly, without a trace of fear.

I drew back. "Mary... do you want to suffer? Do you want to die?"

She held my gaze directly; at the same time, she seemed to look past me, at something far distant and glorious, and her wizened face took on a radiant, wasted beauty. "My suffering is nothing compared to yours," she whispered. "Mine will not last forever."

I fell back into the chair, stricken by a pain sharp as a needle piercing my melting heart. I tried to protest: How could she say that I suffered? I who enjoy the best life offers, I who endure no physical pain, I who inflict suffering and death upon others?

But I could not deny it. In a flash, I saw my current existence as she would see it: the prettiest clothes, the finest champagne, the handsomest men, the beautiful and cruel Elisabeth. The vanity, the hollowness. Century after century without meaning.

I rose and again took her hands, ma.s.saging them a bit to warm them. This time when I bent over her, I gently pressed my lips to hers. "G.o.d bless you, Mary."

"And may He bless you." She sighed, and closed her eyes.

I heard downstairs the rattling of china upon a tray, and muted steps; Frau Koehler was returning with the tea. I settled into the rocking chair and waited, trying to determine the best way to return to the study, when Mary herself provided the answer.

Abruptly, she emitted a howl of pain, with the unbearable abandon of a wounded animal; I admit, I jumped a bit in the chair (and it is not an easy thing to startle a vampire). Again and again she cried out, and I called to her to ask what was the matter, but she seemed quite unaware of my presence. I felt enormous helplessness-and embarra.s.sment when she suddenly clutched the blanket between her legs.

"Frau Koehler!" I cried, as the nurse thundered and rattled up the stairs; she appeared red- faced and gasping, and at once thrust the tea-tray upon a low armoire and went to the bedside of her charge.

"Ah," she said, relieved. "It is merely time for the bedpan again. I shall help her, madam. If you like, you may take your cup of tea and sit downstairs, where the noise will not disturb you."

"The noise?"

"It is all painful for her now; she drinks so little that it burns like fire, especially with her open bedsores. But I will help her feel better. Off with you, madam."

So this is a lingering death: p.i.s.s and s.h.i.t and helpless pain, the crudest indignity.

She moved towards the soapy bedpan in the basin, and I made good my escape before I saw anything more. Abandoning the tea, I sailed down the stairs and again slipped through the door to the doctor's study. With immortal speed, I riffled through the papers on his desk- to little avail, for almost all of them were in Dutch and quite incomprehensible.

But stored neatly inside a cubby-hole were three telegrams, sent from A. Van Helsing, Purfleet, England, to Frau Helga Koehler, Amsterdam. The first was dated 8 July, the second 16 July, the third 4 August.

And all of them from Purfleet. Purfleet. Where Elisabeth and I went every morning to check on Vlad's arrival!

I would have sat down on the floor and quietly laughed-here I had come all this way to find someone back in London!-had the chilling realisation not come: Dr. Van Helsing was mortal, but he still was a force to be reckoned with. For he had somehow discovered Vlad's new location.

How could I be sure he had not also discovered mine?

I skimmed through them all, for they were blessedly written in German, with which I have intimate acquaintance. They all thanked Frau Koehler for her reports on his mother's condition, and volunteered the information that "Mrs. Van Helsing is unfortunately still the same." The most recent one stated that he would have to remain in Purfleet awhile longer, but that the Frau should notify him at once should she judge Mary to be dying.