Part 11 (2/2)

The nearer she came, the more he recoiled, determined not to let her touch even the wispy golden curls upon his head. Yet the whole while he stared over at her with those wide, crystalline-cold eyes-the eyes of a charmed cobra.

”Oma,” he said again sweetly, and when I smiled despite myself, Frau Buchner turned to me for explanation.

”It is the Dutch word for 'grandmother,' ” said I. ”You remind him of her.”

Her whole face brightened with pleasure at the compliment. ”Ach, a pretty little Dutch boy.

Yes, darling, I am an oma, with grandchildren of my own.” And she reached for him again, unsuccessfully.

I took advantage of her distraction to whisper softly to Zsuzsanna, ”But how is it possible?

Only two days ago, I was sure he was dead.” Writing these words, I realise that I knew, deep in my heart, what had happened. But in Zsuzsanna's presence, all that I had learnt from Arkady and Mama was forgotten; I lived in a pleasant, confused fantasy world where no evil was allowed to intrude, where little Jan and I were her happy, willing travelling companions.

”What is this?” Frau Buchner tilted her head, half-listening.

Zsuzsanna looked down at her charge and ran slender, long fingers fondly through his curls.

”Our little darling was very sick. But to-day he is all better.”

Frau Buchner nodded her head, the picture of sagacious experience. ”I tell you, that is the way it is with these little ones. One day, they have a fever so high you think they will never live. And the next day”-she snapped her fingers, which drew renewed interest from Jan- ”Poof! They are ready to play again.” She leaned forward towards the child again; the crucifix on her bosom dangled between them. ”Isn't that right, my darling?”

She reached for his hair again, but Jan recoiled this time with a loud whimper, though his gaze remained fixed on her.

”So, are we the shy one now?” She smiled, but it was clear that she was desperate to win his affections, and that his rejection vexed her.

”I think your necklace frightens him,” Zsuzsanna said, an abrupt coolness in her tone.

The woman looked down at it with puzzlement. ”My necklace?” She fingered it, then gazed back up at the child. ”Oh, my dear, what is there to be frightened of? That it is s.h.i.+ny?”Zsuzsanna watched her with the same intent, predatory stare that recalled a tigress with her cub. ”Perhaps that's it.”

”See, darling?” Frau Buchner lifted the chain with two fingers so that the pendant dangled in front of Jan's owlish eyes. He squealed and burrowed his face into Zsuzsanna's shoulder, while she struggled not to show her own discomfort. ”It's just a golden pretty,” the older woman cooed. ”See it s.h.i.+ne? Just our Lord Jesus on the cross.”

”Take it off,” Zsuzsanna demanded, her voice harsh.

Frau Buchner blinked up at her in gentle surprise. ”What?”

”Take it off.”

The look Zsuzsanna gave the other woman was so intent, so piercing that I felt the hair on the back of my neck lift; Frau Buchner's expression went slack almost immediately. Slowly, she lifted the heavy gold chain and slipped it over her face, over the fat coil of grey braids on her crown, and held it out, at arm's length.

Zsuzsanna drew back from it in obvious disgust, s.h.i.+elding the child in her arms with her body, and turned to me, her eyes narrowed, her face a hard pale mask. For the first time, I saw beneath her beauty; saw a flash of something indescribably hideous. . . .

I hesitated, unwilling, instinctively knowing what would happen next without knowing how I knew. For a moment, the golden chain with its heavy gleaming burden dangled in the air between us.

”Take it,” Zsuzsanna growled, her lower lip curling to display a row of teeth, each one white and hard and culminating in a fine sharp point, a deadly row of razor-keen stakes. It was the mouth I had seen the terrible night she had killed little Jan: a monster's rictus.

I looked swiftly away, closed my eyes.

A faint metallic cascade. I looked back to see Frau Buchner, her eyes distant, unfocussed, her fist open. The chain had slipped from her grasp to the floor in front of my feet.

”Otna!” Jan crowed happily, and she came to herself again for an instant, laughing as the boy bounded suddenly from Zsuzsanna's arms to hers. ”Oma!”

”Oof! Careful now, little one,” she said, smiling indulgently as the child carelessly flung his arms around her neck and buried his face there. She laughed again as she patted his back and turned to say something to Zsuzsanna-then grimaced with pain and let go a startled little scream.

”Aah!” She caught his hands and moved to pull him away-but abruptly her arms dropped.

Her eyes grew vacant once more, and she grew quite still, mouth open, lips pursed in a surprised ”O.”

Zsuzsanna nestled back against the cus.h.i.+on and watched, her eyelids half-lowered in sensual approval- while I sat, frozen with horror and confusion. The compartment grew silent save for the rumble of the train and the child's loud, unselfconscious sucking, while his little fists waved about like a nursing infant's and clenched and unclenched the black silk of Frau Buchner's dress.

After a time, the matron's eyes closed, and her veiled head leaned back against the seat. Not long after, Jan lifted his face-cheeks and lips and chin smeared with bright blood-and sought Zsuzsanna's arms.”That's my good boy,” she said, producing a handkerchief and proceeding to wipe him clean; when that was done to her satisfaction, she cradled him in one arm. ”Sleep now, little one.”

And with the other, she reached for Frau Buchner.

It was not easily accomplished, but in the end, the older woman slid sideways in the seat so that one cheek rested upon the dozing child's belly and the other turned up towards Zsuzsanna, who leaned down to drink.

Only a moment; and when she was done, Zsuzsanna gently pushed her upright, then leaned over to pat the poor woman's hand: ”Frau Buchner.”

The woman woke with a start and lifted a dazed hand to her forehead. ”What is it? Did I fall asleep?”

”Yes, dear. Are you tired? Perhaps you should go to your berdi.”

Buchner's eyes were vacant, troubled, the eyes of a soul who wants badly to remember and cannot. ”Yes. Yes. Perhaps I should. Excuse me, dear.”

Her face was ashen, her balance uncertain. I rose at once to take her arm and helped her to the other car.

When I returned, Zsuzsanna was rocking Jan in her arms and singing the strange lullaby I heard the first night on the train; she interrupted her song to gaze up at me and order, ”Pick it up and dispose of it, please.”

I knew she spoke of the crucifix, which still lay atop the coiled chain on the floor. Even now, I cannot explain why her request seemed logical, why I did not question it. I picked Frau Buchner's necklace from the floor, pulled down the window-sash, and tossed it out towards the darkly glittering banks of the Danube.

It is shortly after dawn. My mind is returned to me once more, and I have just made another unsuccessful attempt to escape, by wriggling through an open window. Now Dunya sits, tight-lipped, watching over me hawkishly with the gun. I can do nothing but reflect on last night's events again with horror.

If I am so swayed now by the vampire's glamour . . . what shall become of me when I arrive in Transylvania and fall prey to Vlad?

Chapter 12.

The Diary of Abraham Van Helsing 26 NOVEMBER.

And ever darker still . . .

I am in a different world. Holland seems in retrospect so modem, airy, light: all white- washed brick, clean streets, and wide flat expanses of land and sea and sky. When we came to Buda-Pesth, I knew the civilised West was far behind us. The city's air was distinctly ancient and corrupt: a dark place, with narrow cobbled streets and crumbling Roman ruins.

<script>