Still no response.

"Grenada: the loogaroo. Method of disposal: unknown. Guinea: the owenga-also unknown."

Mooncloud finally spoke. "How many on your list are unknowns when it comes to disposal?""Let me resort." I pressed keys and a new list appeared:

Species/(Country) Method of Disposal

Otgiruru (Hereros Land) Unknown Baital-Pachisi (India) Unknown Bhut (India) Unknown Hanh Saburo (India) Unknown Hant-Pare (India) Unknown Hantu-Dor Dong (India) Unknown Jigar-Khor (India) Unknown Mah'anah (India) Unknown Penangal (India) Unknown Pisachas (India) Unknown Rakshasa (India) Unknown Vetala (India) Unknown Civateteo (Mexico) Unknown Bruxsa (Portugal) Unknown Baobhan Sith (Scotland) Unknown Vampiro (Spain) Unknown

Mooncloud whistled as she followed the rising list. "If our quarry is any of these, we're screwed.

What's left?"

I did a quick count. "Twenty-seven, counting the penanggalan. But I think we can also eliminate the mau mau of Kenya, the ramanga of Madagascar, the pelesit of Malaysia, and the moroii of Rumania-apparently they can be dealt with as if they were ordinary human beings." I squinted at the display. "Although it is recommended that the pelesit be buried with a cat when the process is concluded."

"How many left on the list require incineration?"

I rekeyed the list into another subfile.

Species/(Country) Method of Disposal

Pamgri (Hungary) Burn body to ashes Vampir (Magyar) Stake through heart, burn body Romanati (Rumania) Body removed to remote place, hacked into pieces and cast in fire where every piece of flesh and bone must be incinerated Vieszcy (Russia) Destruction by fire or execution with a gravedigger's shovel Vlkoslak (Serbia) Cut off toes, drive nail through neck. Burn body to ashes

"Fire sounds like our best bet but I noticed a couple of variations on the stake method. How many other listings suggest some form of nailing or impaling?"I opened and processed another subfile.

Species/(Country) Method of Disposal Oupire (Hungary) Iron bar through heart, decapitate with ax Vampir (Hungary) Stake through heart, nail through temples Vryolakas (Macedonia) Pour boiling oil on, drive nail through navel Penanggalan (Malaysia) Impale head on Jenyu leaves, destroy body or keep head and body separate for 24 hours Strigoiul (Rumania) Remove heart, cut in two; garlic in mouth, nail in head Zarne ti (Rumania) Iron forks driven through the heart, eyes, and breast of an exhumed female vam- pire; grave considerably deepened and corpse buried face downwards Upierczi (Russia) Appear from noon to midnight only; oaken stake through the heart with just one blow; exorcism

"All right, what's left?"

"Mostly preventative burial measures." I opened another subfile.

Species/(Country) Method of Disposal

Dearg-dul (Ireland) Pile stones on grave Langsuir (Malaysia) Hair and nails must be cut short and clippings stuffed into hole in back of neck Mati-Anak or Pontianak Put hen's egg under (Malaysia) each armpit, needle in palm of hand, gla.s.s beads in mouth, use charm Upier (Poland) Bury face downwards with willow crosses under chin, armpits, and chest; decapitate, mix blood with flour to make bread that frees victims once eaten Gierach (Prussia) Put poppy seeds in grave Neuntoter (Saxony) Bury with lemon in mouth "Sounds like immolation is our best bet. Anything left?"

I scanned the remaining notations.

Species/(Country) Method of Disposal

Mule (Gypsy) Ambush with thorns and gun Bajang (Malaysia) Drowning Varcolac (Rumania) Breaking the thread they climb on to banish them to another part of the sky Vampyre (Yugoslavia) Rituals performed by dhampir

"Dhampir," I mused. "I wonder what a dhampir is and if we could get in touch with one?"

"Unlikely," Ba.s.sarab answered, giving us a start. "The dhampir is the son of a vampire. I know of only three who still might be living and none of them reside in this hemisphere, much less this country."

I eyed the door behind him, wanting to ask how he'd managed to enter without our noticing. I imagined mist pouring through a keyhole and decided not to raise the question.

"The sun is down." Ba.s.sarab unlocked the door and opened it with a flourish: it squeaked noticeably."It is time to travel."

A quiet, smooth ride is the last thing one expects from an automobile over sixty years old. But Ba.s.sarab's '31 Duesenberg glided over the uncertain surface of US 69 like a ghost, the silken response of suspension and the purr of the antique V-12 motor giving the lie to the speedometer's insistence that we were topping eighty miles an hour.

Even more hair-raising was the fact that we were doing this in complete darkness: it was a moonless night with nothing but empty fields to either side of the highway and the only light emanating from the car were the tiny LEDs indicating that the radar detector was on and sweeping the road ahead for county mounties.

Lupe, following behind in the Ford Bronco, had also extinguished her headlights, but where she had the advantage of night vision similar to my own, Victor had to wear a light-amplification device that looked like a cross between a starlight scope and virtual reality headgear. It was not a rea.s.suring sight and I made sure my seat belt was securely buckled.

We had just pa.s.sed La Cygnes Lake and off to our left was Marais des Cygnes Ma.s.sacre Park, commemorating the ma.s.s murder of Free-staters by Confederate sympathizers. A few miles ahead, just past Pleasanton, would be the Mine Creek battlefield. A land rich in the heritage of violence. I thought about the b.l.o.o.d.y footnote we were about to contribute to that history and tried not to feel overweening pride.

"What the h.e.l.l am I doing here?" I whispered.

Ba.s.sarab stared straight ahead, his face cloaked in shadow. "You are fighting back. As every man must who would rule those about him."

"I don't have the slightest interest in ruling anyone," I said.

"Then you will be ruled. A man either rules those about him or they, in turn, will rule him."

"I don't believe that."

"Then you are a fool. A man may hold another's fate in his own grasp and then grant the other the 'gift' of choice. But he must first have mastery if he is to have his own freedom."

" 'He is weakened by every recruit to his banner,' " I murmured; " 'Is not a man better than a town?' "

"Your Emerson had the truth of it. His essay on self-reliance would have served me well when I was Voivode of Walachia."

"But is a prince and warlord really free of obligation?" I asked. "As a ruler, isn't there a plethora of responsibilities to those you rule?"

He bowed his head. The silence was so long that I felt the question had been dismissed. And then he spoke.

"I was born in an uncivilized time, in a primitive province, and raised to the throne under savage circ.u.mstances. By modern standards my people were barbarians. We were civilized only by comparisons to those who wished to enslave us. There was only one way to resist the armies and provinces that surrounded and outnumbered and sought to master us; we had to conquer such barbarians by becoming even more barbaric than they."

He raised his head and looked at me. "And it worked. Time and again we turned back the invaders with inferior forces. Armies that should have overwhelmed us, engulfed us, slaughtered us to a man-fled, Mr. Csejthe! Turned tail and ran! Killed each other to get away! And do you know why?"

"They feared you," I said.

"Feared me? My own people feared me and I was their protector! What the Turks and Mongols felt at the mere mention of my name was beyond terror! For many, beyond sanity: the rumor of my arrival was enough to cause husbands to slay their wives, mothers their children, warriors to cut their ownthroats! Only death offered mercy and true safety from the unspeakable cruelties of the Devil's own son!

"My hands," he said, lifting them like black claws in the darkness, "were stained with the blood of hundreds, thousands of acts of unnecessary cruelty! Unnecessary except that it put overwhelming forces to rout and saved my country when nothing else could!

"All of the unspeakable tortures and deaths by impalement, all these horrors committed while I was still a mere mortal, heir to the life and frailties of flesh and blood, were for my people. Do you think I burned my own people alive for my own enjoyment? Do you believe that I erected a forest of bodies on stakes and poles to win the admiration of anyone? My most loyal officers, even my own family, plotted against me even while I was staining my hands and my very soul to preserve them against enemies who could not otherwise be defeated!

"So do not presume to question whether I understand the responsibilities of a ruler! I know better than any man what obligations, what debts crouch in the dark nights of the heart like deranged and leprous beggars!"

"And . . . New York?" I prompted when the silence had grown long, again.

"I was the fool then," he answered bitterly. "I had been a prince. I thought to be one again. But with the pa.s.sing of the centuries I had forgotten the responsibilities of sovereignty and remembered only the glory. And with the pa.s.sing of time, the world had changed, and I had changed, as well.

"But not in the same directions. . . .

"Savagery remains, Mr. Csejthe. But it is a subtle, artful savagery now. The barbarians at the gate wear three-piece suits and sport fifty-dollar manicures. Warlords no longer defend countries and provinces but little plots of land designated as 'turf.' Their kingdoms have boundaries and borders that run down the middle of neighborhood streets and cut through the centers of playgrounds, parking lots, and old tenement buildings. Tribute is paid in pharmaceuticals and stolen goods.

"And honor . . . bah!"

"What about honor?" I asked.

"The strong will ever prey upon the weak," he answered quietly. "But there are those who cannot drink from the well without poisoning it for others. Who cannot take their needful prey without savaging half the flock and scattering the rest. When one is voivode, he cultivates his allies and makes war upon his enemies. He does not confuse the two. He demands tribute from those he conquers but does not destroy his own possessions once they are in his hands. . . ." He stared out the window.

I cleared my throat. "Speaking of allies, why won't you let us contact the Doman of Seattle?"

"He is not my ally."

"But I don't believe Pagelovitch is your enemy, either. And since New York seems to be your mutual enemy, isn't that grounds for an alliance?"

He brooded over that. "I have my reasons," he said finally.

"But couldn't you let Dr. Mooncloud telephone, just to let him know that we're all right?"

He shook his head.

"He wouldn't have to know anything about you or where we are. Just a simple message saying we're alive and well. How could-"

"No! As I said, I have my reasons."

"And I have my concerns."

"Your only concern, right now, should be about what you are here to do."

"Yeah? Well, why don't you make it easy on me: just what am I here to do?"

He stared at me. "My mistake was walking away without cutting off the head of the serpent that had plotted to take my place. I had a.s.sumed they would leave me alone once I had left New York for them to squabble over as they saw fit. I had forgotten that your enemies are not only whom you say they are,but whom they say they are, as well."

"And my enemies?"

"Whom do you say they are?" he asked mildly.

"Why should I have enemies? I've done nothing to anyone."

"Mortal men are your enemies: they'll hunt you down and dissect you if they think your body holds the secret of eternal life. The wampyr are your enemy: they'll hunt you down and destroy you if they think your existence poses a threat to their own secret existence. The Doman of Seattle will add you to his stable of kept creatures. The Doman of New York will take you apart to learn your secrets and hope that you can tell them where to find me. If you would live free, then all of these are your enemies."

"Swell." We were past the town of Prescott and nearing Fulton; Fort Scott was maybe ten or fifteen minutes ahead. "So, if they're all my enemies, I'm back to my original question: what am I doing here?"

Dracula turned and, as he looked at me, I felt a palpable force flow emanating from his eyes. "Serve me in this task and I will reward you with what you want most."

"And what is that?" I asked, fighting to keep my will independent from any external control.

"Your freedom. The opportunity to live your life on your own terms."

"Why?"

"Why do I do this? Because of the blood-bond. Because we both want the same thing."

"No, I mean: why does Dracula need the help of anyone else, particularly a man who is not fully wampyr?"

Before he could answer, the CB radio mounted under the Duesenberg's dashboard crackled to life.

"Breaker eleven, breaker eleven," Lupe's voice announced, "this is the wolf calling the bat. You got your ears on, good buddy?"

Ba.s.sarab scowled and Wren reached over for the mike with an ill-disguised smirk. "This is the bat, pretty mama; come back."

"He's sounding," she answered, barely waiting for the invitation to talk. "I can hear him-faint, but up ahead!"

"Who's sounding?" Ba.s.sarab wanted to know. Victor relayed the question into the microphone.

"Luath!" she cried, the volume of her voice distorting the words. "He's still on the trail! And I can still hear him!"

I looked at Ba.s.sarab. "The cu sith," I said.

Ba.s.sarab nodded, a thoughtful expression on his long, ancient face. "To answer your last question,"

he said slowly, "I need you because I suspect that the task before us will be more difficult than Dr.

Mooncloud and her a.s.sociate may imagine. That, to achieve our goals, both of us will have to die. . . ."