Blood Will Tell (33 page)

“And then suddenly two in one week,” said Brandy. “If they'd both been here in Murphy, I'd suspect a connection."

“But they weren't. One was in Florida, and that kid got his information about vampires from Bela Lugosi movies."

“So? What does Doc Sanford know about vampires? Dan, what would happen if another vampire were to try to influence me?"

“I—don't know,” he admitted. “I'd expect my influence to be stronger. But you're suggesting that you might be immune to the influence of other vampires?"

Dan rose, and started clearing plates away—his turn to clean up as for once Brandy had done the cooking. “What about Dr. Sanford? He doesn't act as if he's under anyone's influence, with his obsession about Judge Callahan. Unless—you think there's a vampire who wants to get rid of the judge, who's given the doctor that obsession?"

“If so,” said Brandy, “it's certainly not effective."

“But then the Andersons show that not all vampires are very smart."

“True. But the Callahans really hurt Doc Sanford's family. And I've got a hunch that the judge was mixed up in framing Rory Sanford—Church thinks it might have been to protect one of his drug cohorts."

“And Carrie's murder? I still think that was a threat or warning to vampires, Brandy."

“Maybe so—but whoever framed Rory didn't know it."

“What makes you think that?"

“The fork. Your fangs punctured her throat. The murderer used a knife. But whoever framed Rory bought the cannibal theory, and provided a fork of the right size and shape to cause the puncture wounds.” She sighed. “It seems I'll never find out who really killed Carrie."

“As long as you know it wasn't me—” Dan began.

“No!” Brandy interrupted. “That's not enough, Dan! My best friend's been murdered, and I have not one single clue!"

* * * *

The cold, wet weather of January curbed outdoor activities, but Dan had access to the university swimming pool. Brandy loved swimming with Dan, for she rarely found anyone who could keep up with her. She couldn't help wondering whether Dan held back—his perfect health should allow him to win every race, but perhaps his technique wasn't quite as good as hers.

Then one evening Brandy found herself leading Dan by half the length of the pool. She pulled herself out and sat on the edge, waiting for him to reach her. “What's the matter?” she demanded as he grasped the rim to surge up out of the water with his usual grace.

“I guess I was distracted,” he said.

“By what?” Brandy asked, for the only other people there were two college boys practicing back flips.

“Something that came in today's e-mail,” he replied. “Brandy, if this is true, everything I've believed about myself could be completely wrong!"

“What're you talking about?” she asked.

“Let's go home. We can't discuss it here."

At home he took two printouts from his briefcase and handed one to Brandy. “Remember that mystery document from Rett Land's hard disk, the one no one could translate?"

“Yes. You sent it to some specialist in ancient languages."

“She worked on it over the holidays. Here it is."

There was a cover letter:

Dearest Dan:

Your mystery document proved utterly fascinating. It's in a subdialect of Medieval Greek, spoken about a thousand years ago—where in the world did you get it? Do you have the original manuscript, or any idea where this Professor Land of yours found it? You have sent me only a fragment—where is the rest?

My dear, I know ancient texts are not at all in your line. What you have sent me is a chapter out of an alchemical treatise—one of the earliest examples I have ever seen. It is unique to my knowledge in combining the tenets of alchemy with the myth of the vampire, prevalent to this day in the area in which this dialect originated. This document is important to historians, folklorists, and linguists. Dear boy, you must get me the rest of the text!

I eagerly wait to hear from you, or from colleagues of Dr. Land who may know the source of this fragment. I cannot stress enough how significant this document is, or how frustrating not to have the original manuscript! I cannot believe it is a hoax—but without the original I can do nothing beyond the translation you asked for.

Please let me hear from you soon!

Sincerely,

Amelia Messanourski

“Well, your friend is certainly excited about it, ‘Dear Boy,'” said Brandy.

“Dr. Messanourski was a visiting professor at Florida Central. I helped her with computers. I was pretending to be twenty-five, and she was really around sixty."

“So she's around seventy now. Retired?"

“She'll never retire. She loves teaching.” He pushed back a lock of hair brought down by their swim, looking at that moment younger than Brandy. “Dr. M's a bloodhound. I had no idea what was in that file, or I never would have sent it to her."

“Whatever it is has frightened you. Why, Dan, if it's only folklore—alchemy, of all things?"

“A vampire was killed over it,” he replied grimly. As Brandy would have protested further, he shook his head. She could feel him controlling his fear. “Read it."

The first part was some formula she could not follow, explaining how someone referred to as “the Numen” should purify himself before—she saw the word “vampyre,” and realized that the Numen was being instructed as to how to prepare—Dr. Messanourski had put “program” in brackets in the translation after the word “prepare"—his vampires.

Brandy looked up at Dan. “Does this say what I think? That vampires are controlled by a person called a Numen?"

“That's what it says,” he agreed. “That part's just alchemy, though, Brandy—superstitious nonsense."

“Out of that superstitious nonsense came the science of chemistry,” Brandy reminded him.

“I didn't want to hear that,” Dan said. “I'm trying to believe this has nothing to do with me. If I thought it was true, I'd be scared to death."

“Dan,” Brandy read his feelings, “you do think it's true, and you are scared to death."

His mouth tensed. “I'm not certain,” he insisted. “I'm just afraid it might be true. Please, read the rest, and show me where it contradicts reality as we know it."

The document next distinguished between two kinds of vampires. Dr. Messanourski had translated the first as “temporary,” putting in brackets [insignificant, expedient, disposable]. For these, the Numen chose weak-willed persons from the lower classes, to be servants or soldiers. Once their purpose was fulfilled, they were destroyed. The Numen was not to expend much effort on disposable vampires.

“This implies that vampires are created by the Numen,” Brandy realized.

“Yes."

“But you know that isn't true."

“Do I? Read on,” Dan said flatly.

Brandy's stomach tightened as she read about the second, “long-lived” vampire. “Select with utmost care, to obtain a specimen with high intellectual ability. University students with academic rather than spiritual goals make good candidates, but do not choose one too young, as he will not age once he has been turned."

“Well, this part's all wrong,” said Brandy in relief. “You've been a vampire all your life, Dan. You told me you started showing the signs at puberty."

“That's what I told you,” he agreed. “It's what I remember ... but...” He broke off. “Read on, Brandy."

The long-lived vampire was to be programmed and set free to live for several centuries, gaining knowledge along with life energy and experience. When the Numen decided he was “ripe,” he would “call” that vampire and “harvest” him—absorbing all his knowledge, energy, and experience. Dr. Messanourski had added,
[The vampire is like a storage battery, trickle-charged until the Numen needs him. The Numen recharges by drawing the energy all at once.]

Brandy raised her eyes to Dan's. “You think that's what happened to Everett Land? One of these Numens—"

“Numena."

“Never mind the grammar lesson!” she snapped. “You think a Numen drained him to recharge himself?"

“If that hadn't happened to Rett, I could dismiss this document as superstition or misunderstanding, like the rest of alchemy. But it did happen. Read the rest."

Next came instructions for programming the vampires. For the disposable ones, the document provided a variety of options. “If they are to be soldiers, it is not expedient that they fear the light of day, but if they are intended to terrify, confinement to darkness will make them even more fearsome. Vampires intended as soldiers may feed without killing their prey, while those used to strike fear in the Numen's enemies will be all the more fearsome if they bring death at every visit. All vampires must feed at the full moon; those used to terrify may be programmed to prey—and kill—more often, even every night."

There followed a long passage about controlling disposable vampires: if the Numen wanted them to stay within a certain territory, they should be unable to cross running water; if he wanted his assistants to control them, he should cause garlic to weaken them, cold iron to bind them. As Brandy started to turn the page, Dan said, “Look at this part,” and pointed to a passage near the bottom.

“The Numen cannot waste effort on temporary vampires. However, it is essential that none ever leads the authorities to the Numen. To this purpose, instill the belief in every disposable vampire that he may not enter holy ground; that any religious object, viz. the cross or a saint's relic, will burn his flesh; and that he will choke attempting to speak the name of God, Christ, or any saint. The purpose of this is that such a vampire, being of a low and superstitious nature, may not upon his first craving for blood rush to the priest to confess his sin, resulting at best in his being put to death as an abomination and at worst in his leading Church authorities to the Numen."

“This is amazing,” said Brandy. “It explains why there are so many different rules for vampires, not only in different cultures, but often in the same culture. Every vampire could operate by his own individual set of rules!"

“Except for the Craving at the full moon,” Dan agreed, “and common physiological attributes. But go on. You haven't come to the long-lived vampires yet."

The Numen was cautioned to take care what he programmed into vampires intended as his own prey. No fear of religious objects, as in the time and place the manuscript was written, when scholarship was controlled by the Church. A scholar-vampire must walk in daylight, and not draw unwanted attention. For the same reason he was not to kill his prey.

“Here's the final straw,” said Dan, pointing to a passage he had marked with a line down the margin beside it:

“To prevent the long-lived vampire from crises of religious conscience, it is best to implant the belief that he was born with the need to drink blood, and all the physical characteristics that go with it, viz. superior strength, sensitivity to sunlight, night vision, etc. Let him believe himself a superior form of human, for men of intellect do not take well to another's dominion over them. Suppress their memories of the Numen's role; instruct them to create their own memories, consistent with their life histories, to account for their state. Each man best knows himself; a vampire will create a more accurate and believable personal history than the Numen could invent."

“Oh, God,” Brandy whispered, thinking of the times she had watched Dan puzzle out answers to questions about his personal history. “Have you—been lying to me?"

“I don't know. If I have, I've been lying to myself at the same time.” He shook his head. “After reading this, I doubt my own memories!"

His fear was now palpable. Brandy wanted to reassure him—but how? “Dan, it could all be coincidence. Or Professor Land could have written this."

“What makes you think that?” Hope warred with fear.

“He was a language expert. Maybe this is a hoax."

“He wouldn't have been killed over a hoax."

Dan was right. Vampires were real; Brandy lived with one. Everett Land's mysterious death fit the idea of a Numen “harvesting” a vampire—one who had discovered the secret of his creation. Obviously, knowing this secret would put any vampire in jeopardy—

“Dan—you said this came by e-mail!"

“I've deleted all reference from my hard disk and from the mainframe. But—if someone is monitoring my mail, he could have accessed it before I did."

“Wouldn't he have deleted it?"

Dan's black eyes widened. “He wants me to know."

“Knowledge is power,” Brandy said firmly. “Either he didn't see it, or he doesn't know how to delete it. If it's the same person who tried to destroy this document by formatting Dr. Land's hard disk, our suspect is not a computer expert."

“But he is Rett's murderer,” said Dan.

“He probably has the rest of this file, and the original manuscript, too. Why do you think Dr. Land had only this one chapter on his computer?"

“Perhaps he never had the complete manuscript. Or, he might have put one chapter at a time on the hard disk. The rest could be on the missing zip disks, or on floppies. Or if he had the hardcopy manuscript, this could be the first chapter he chose to work on—look at the information in it!"

“He was killed for that information,” said Brandy.

“Or to keep him from obtaining it, or from acting on it,” said Dan. “And now—I know it."

“So do I,” said Brandy. “Dan, I see nothing here that contradicts reality as we know it. It explains the Andersons: disposable vampires killed not just before they revealed their nature, but before they could reveal the existence and identity of the Numen who created them."

“You're reading my mind. Go on."

“The number of vampires in Callahan County—a Numen lives here, creating vampires, using them, disposing of them when they become dangerous. The university is a source of scholars to become his long-lived vampires. I wonder how long has he been operating here?"

“I don't know how long a Numen lives,” said Dan, “but if he creates vampires he intends to harvest centuries later, you might as well call it immortality. I agree with Dr. M; we need the rest of this document."

“We'll find it when we find the Numen,” said Brandy. “Dan, have you had any blackouts? Lost time, hours you can't account for, since this translation arrived."