Part 9 (2/2)

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.

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