Covenant With the Vampire (27 page)

It was true. I had been too shocked to pay much notice, but now I recalled
the body of the woman lying on the other side of the door. Zsuzsanna reclined
straight on her back, both shoulders perfectly formed, with no sign of curvature
in her spine. And beneath the quilt, the shape of her legs was clearly visible - a
matched, healthy pair.

I raised my hands to my face and wept bitter tears to think she would die,
and far bitterer tears to think what we would do to her once she was dead. I
doubted myself physically capable of the deed, because of the pregnancy, and
Dunya was too small to accomplish the gruesome act herself. So I collected myself,
thinking all the while that we were quite insane to be having such a conversation,
and asked, “Dunya… is there a man whom we could pay to do this, after she has
died?”

Tears streamed down my cheeks, but I was quite composed as I said this. Yet
my voice or expression must have evoked pity, for Dunya awkwardly touched my
shoulder - timidly, at first, knowing it the utmost forwardness for a servant
to touch the mistress uninvited, yet so overwhelmed by compassion that she could
not resist. “Of course,
doamna;
there is someone who will do so, but
he will refuse payment. But please do not worry about such things. I will take
care of them for you.”

She said it so sweetly, in such a soothing tone that I began to cry again,
and could not speak for a time. She put her arms around me then, and we two
wept like sisters.

I said, “Dunya, I am so terrified. I am about to have a child, but I do not
want to do so here. I am afraid it is not safe. A wolf attacked at the window
last night. It leapt at me, and shattered the pane. It was so close, I saw it
clearly. It had Vlad's eyes. It was him. I know; I have seen him change.”

She seemed not at all shocked by this, but nodded, patting my shoulder in an
effort to reassure me. “I will keep you safe,
doamna,
with the cross
and the garlic. We will let no harm come to you.”

“Am I going mad? I saw him change into a wolf, before my
eyes
…”

“You are not mad,” she said, with such authority I felt a measure of comfort - an
unhappy comfort, to know that such evil indeed existed. “It is true, he can
become a wolf. And if he kills another while in this guise, that soul shall
become
strigoi,
unless prevented. But he also commands the wolves.
We who live near the forest know that the creatures by nature are shy; they
do not threaten the villagers - only livestock, and only in winter, if they are
starving, and then only in packs. A single wolf is no threat, and we do not
fear it - unless
he
commands it. For he knows how to make them kill whomever
he wishes - though this death is a natural one, and the victim's soul returns
to God.”

Out in the hallway, I made her swear that she would arrange in secret for Zsuzsanna
to be freed from the curse of the
strigoi,
and would say nothing of
any of these things to Arkady, or to anyone else. She promised, but warned darkly
that the servants were growing suspicious of Zsuzsanna's paleness, and that
rumours were already circulating in the village as to its cause.

As for Arkady, it seems he took the caleche in a great hurry this morning,
and apparently headed for the castle. One of the servants has gone to fetch
him, but I do not understand what is taking him such a long time to return.
I fear Zsuzsanna will die before he comes.

I have sat with her this past hour, and she wakes occasionally to feebly ask
for Vlad.

I do not know what to tell her. I have no desire to invite the return of such
evil to my home. Yet she asks so pitifully, I do not know how much longer I
can refuse.

Dunya remains with me, and has been a great comfort. I asked her to explain
more fully, once Zsuzsanna was asleep, the covenant between Vlad and the family.

“It is as I told you,
doamna,”
she said. “An agreement similar to
the one with the villagers. He will harm none of his own.”

“Yes, I remember. But in exchange for… ?”

She lowered her eyes and released a little sigh of reluctance before returning
to the same high-pitched tone of rote memory she had used earlier when telling
the tale of Vlad“s pact with the town. ”He will harm none of his
own, and
the rest of the family members may live in happy ignorance of the truth, and
be free to leave
the castle forever - in return for the assistance of the
eldest surviving son of each generation.“

I stared at her in horror, knowing in my heart what she would reply even as
I demanded, “What do you mean,
assistance
of the eldest son?”

She turned her face away, unable to meet my stricken gaze. “His help,
doamna.
To see that the
strigoi
is fed. For the good of the family,
the village, the country.” My poor darling… !

* * *

The Diary of Arkady Tsepesh

17 April.

Addendum written on separate parchment. I have closed myself in Father's office;
his revolver lies on the desk, near my right hand. In half an hour, I shall
go back downstairs and escort Herr Mueller and his wife to the safety of the
manor. Until then, I must do something to ease my nerves and keep my mind free
from images of Jeffries’ severed head, and the manner in which he met his doom…
at Laszlo's hands, or V.“s?

And so I write, using Uncle's stationery.

When I saw Laszlo and the guests ride past the manor, I threw on my clothes,
grabbed the pistol, and went at once to the stables, where I harnessed the horses
to the caleche. We made top speed to the castle, and as we made it to the crest
of the slope, some fifty feet distant, I could see that the carriage had already
been unloaded, and the stablehand had led the horses back to the stable.

I pulled up into the front courtyard and tethered the horses to the front post.
There was no point in unharnessing them; I would not remain here long.

The door had been bolted, and so I rang and waited, pacing impatiently until
Ana answered.

“Where are the guests?” I demanded.

Her eyebrows lifted, and her eyes widened in the face of my heated intensity.
“Why, upstairs, of course, sir. Helga has drawn them a bath; they’re rather
tired and dusty.”

I pushed past her and headed up the stairs directly for the guest chamber in
which poor Jeffries had stayed.

The door was already closed, and when I knocked, an answer was so long in coming
that I at first feared Helga had taken the guests elsewhere.

And then I heard a splash of water, and very muffled and faint, a feminine
giggle; then a young man's voice, somewhat nearer, calling out in German. Go
away.

“I am a member of the Tsepesh family,” I called, in the same language, “and
I must speak to you at once.”

“Who?” His rising, indignant tone revealed that he had heard the name, but
did not recognise it.

I flushed, remembering how V. so facetiously signed his correspondence with
guests. “One of the family Dracul,” I called, and when expectant silence followed,
added, “I am sorry to disturb you, but the matter is urgent.”

“One moment,” the young man replied.

I waited patiently for the requested moment - actually several moments - while
beyond the closed door came faint, muffled sounds of conversation, movement
accompanied by more splashing, then the closing of the inner door to the bed
chamber. Footsteps came at last, and the door swung partway open to reveal a
cleanshaven, bespectacled young man with curling, golden-brown hair that was
decidedly damp and tousled. He could have been no more than eighteen, with a
well-formed, handsome face that sported a small, turned-up nose which accentuated
his youthfulness. I did my best to appear not to notice that he leaned out so
as to hide the lower half of his body; the upper half was covered with a damp
silk smoking-jacket which stuck to his skin.

“ Herr Mueller?” I asked politely, retrieving from memory the name on the letter
V. had dictated.

“Ja?”
He struggled to maintain civility, but did not entirely succeed
in hiding the fact that he was eager to be rid of me; he kept a hand on the
doorknob in hopes of dismissing me quickly.

“I am Arkady…” I hesitated. “… Dracul, nephew of Prince Vlad. I am sorry to
disturb you and your wife's privacy” - at this, the young man blushed violently - “but
there has been a mistake. Our coachman should not have brought you to the castle,
but to the manor, where a room is prepared for you. I shall take you there now.”
I had no desire to frighten these good people; if I could whisk them from the
castle unaware of the danger, so much the better.

“But the room here is perfect!” Herr Mueller exclaimed. “Lovely! And besides…”
He peered at me with a trace of suspicion. “Your uncle left a note in the room
welcoming us here. Why must we leave?”

I struggled to think of a compelling reason other than the truth. “Yes, well…
Did you ever get
my
letter in Bistritz? The one warning of illness
in the castle?”

His eyes widened slightly; he took a step back from me, from the door. “Why,
no… Just the letter from your uncle, explaining when to meet the coach.”

The letter I thought I had cast upon the fire. I struggled not to blanch at
this revelation.

“Ah,” said I, gravely, “it must have missed you. It's nothing
too
serious, of course” - and at this, his eyes narrowed and he took another half
step back from the door - “but we felt it would be safer to put you up at the
manor until the disease has left the castle.”

“What disease is this?” Herr Mueller insisted, but I countered that such details
were better discussed once we arrived at the manor.

Herr Mueller became eminently reasonable then, but begged for some time - “Thirty
minutes, no more” - for the sake of his wife, who was “tired and indisposed, and
was in the midst of bathing.” I told him sternly I could allow no longer, and
instructed him to keep the door locked and open it only when I - and no other - returned
for him.

I went directly up to my office, and wrote a very short note to V., saying
that I knew I was breaking his rule about interfering with visitors, but that
it was utterly necessary and for his own good, as well as that of the guests.
I thought at first to leave it in his drawing-room, on the table where he would
be sure to find it - but now I grow nervous that one of the servants might remove
it. And so I have decided to slip it beneath the door of his private chambers.

Thinking of doing so evoked again the strange, elusive image buried in my childhood
memory:

The silver flash of the knife; the pain as it cut the delicate flesh at
my wrist. My father, holding my arm over… something dully gleaming gold. I cannot
see it now. But I remembered once again the ancient throne, and this time, the
words JUSTUS ET PIUS, just and faithful…

Invisible claws dug into my brain with such vehemence that the pain overwhelmed
me. I cried out and sank forward, elbows and face resting on the inkblot, hands
clutching the back of my skull, and surrendered for a time to blackness.

I have recovered now to find myself staring at the letter in my hands. Time
to slip it beneath V.“s door, then quickly collect the guests.

Footsteps on the stairs! Someone is coming; the revolver - !

* * *

The Journal of Mary Windham Tsepesh

18 April.

It is the wee hours of the morning, and I cannot sleep. This house is so full
of misery and despair, how can any of us ever slumber peacefully again?

My husband was so undone by the news about Zsuzsanna that at first he waved
a gun at poor Mihai, who had to coax him down the castle stairs into the carriage
and drive him home; another servant later retrieved the caleche. Arkady is with
his dead sister now, and cannot be persuaded to leave her side. I fear for him,
despite the fact that Dunya says she doubts Vlad will harm him, especially as
he is the eldest son, and such a thing has never occurred in all the centuries
the covenant has been in effect.

Nor has he ever bitten one of his own family,
I almost retorted, but
held my tongue; I know she means only to comfort me. Yet there can be no comfort.
The truth is none of us are safe.

Until her brother arrived, I sat with Zsuzsanna and held her hand. She grew
somewhat restless and incoherent, and began to ask for Vlad. At first I had
not the faintest intention of yielding to her request, but she grew so tearfully,
heartbreakingly desperate for him that despite my resolve, I began to relent,
and took Dunya aside to ask whether this was safe.

“He can do her no further harm,” Dunya whispered solemnly. “As for us - he cannot
harm us unless we allow him; so long as we wear our crucifixes and avoid his
charms, we will be safe. But he must know that it is Zsuzsanna, and Zsuzsanna
alone who invites him here.”

Thus I sent a second servant to the castle, to give V. the message that Zsuzsanna
was dying and asked for him.

Soon after, poor Arkady arrived. Though I had succeeded in composing myself
as I sat at Zsuzsanna's side, wishing to be strong for my husband's sake, at
the sight of his grief-stricken face in the bedroom doorway, I dissolved in
tears.

He strode quickly to her side. I withdrew, and he sat on the bed and gathered
her to his bosom, lifting her head and shoulders so that her dark hair streamed
down over his arm and onto the pillow.

“Zsuzsa…” he sighed, tears spilling down his cheeks, and tenderly stroked her
face. “Zsuzsa, how can this be?”

His presence brought her to herself again, and endowed her with strength. She
smiled up at him with the sweetness of a saint, her eyes once again radiating
that uncanny serenity despite the fact that her breath came in sharp gasps.
“You mustn’t cry, Kasha. I’m happy now…”