Part 16 (1/2)
”Just what I appear to be: a humble Jew born many years ago in Buda, before it was joined to its sister city across the Danube.”
”How many years ago?”
He shrugged, as if it were too insignificant to mention. ”Some few centuries before Vlad.
Suffice it to say that I left my native Hungary to escape the Black Death and certain reprisals against those of my heritage, and found a safe haven in the wilds of the Wal- lachian Forest. There I acquired an interest myself in alchemy and those things labelled occult.”
”You were one of the Sholomonari, then?” I no longer worried that my questions were uncourteously direct; his startling admission negated any right to privacy on the matter.
”Yes. As it was the fas.h.i.+on then to take on a Latin name, I became known as Arminius, the mage. So I am known even now.” He sighed unhappily at the memory. ”I was as greedy, in my own way, as Vlad. But I did not crave blood or political gain; no, I desired simple immortality, and personal powers. So I did what others have done before and after me and shall continue to do in the future: I used my magical knowledge to forge a pact. But such bargains are never without price. I sacrificed the souls of innocents-”
He broke off suddenly and turned away from me, hiding his expression; I suspected he did so to hide his grief. Archangel woke at once at the movement and pressed a muzzle against his hand, as though to offer comfort.
After several seconds' pause, Arminius continued. ”Yes, I sacrificed innocents, just as Vlad now does, in order to purchase my immortality. Unlike him, I had no desire to play generations-long cat and mouse games. No, I wanted simple power, not blood; and I obtained it by draining my victims psychically.”
”Psychically?” I could not keep the scepticism from my tone.
”Arkady spoke of it to you, did he not? Of the physical aura, of the life-force?”
”He has mentioned it,” I said with unease. It is not so easy to change from cynic to convert overnight. Yes, I had seen with my own eyes that the vampire existed; but talk of auras and animal magnetism and psychic forces still struck me as purely ridiculous.
”I can hear you still do not believe. A pity, because you must learn to contain yours, to protect it, if you are to prevail against Vlad,” he said sternly. ”My victims never had such knowledge and died as a result. For I knew how to attach my own aura to theirs, to pierce it, to obtain from them all their energy and life. Thus was I strengthened, whilst they weakened slowly to the point of death. And with each new life I absorbed, I gained increased knowledge, increased ability such as you have observed in Vlad and your father: super-normal hearing, vision, smell-even the ability to know others' thoughts.
”As for my victims: I knew their thoughts all too well. Not in the crude manner that Vlad gleans them, a snippet here and there, from the blood-but intensely. Deeply, for my contact with them opened the innermost recesses of their minds and joined them with mine.
It was at first a pleasurable process for me, for I saw the faceted jewel-like intricacies of each s.h.i.+ning soul, the incredible, infinite wealth of knowledge stored within each memory.
But over time, the very beauty of what I stole began to haunt me; and the treasure I acc.u.mulated preyed upon my conscience until I could bear the guilt no more.”
”And what did you do?” I asked, spellbound, scarcely daring to breathe.
”I repented,” he said, turning to face me once more. ”I made amends.”
My heartbeat quickened; I could think only of Arkady. If my father had only been able to repent, to somehow redeem himself- ”Arminius,” I said, ”my father's soul is lost. Is there anything I can do-”
”Just one thing. And I suspect you already know what it is.”
”Kill Vlad,” I replied grimly.
He answered with a solemn nod and, in a tone that reminded me eerily of my dream, said, ”The covenant works both ways, Abraham. Destroy him, and you release your father's soul from h.e.l.l-and those of your ancestors. You alone can redeem them.
”But you should also know: His final loving sacrifice for you in fact saved you. Because every time one of the Draculs overcomes evil and chooses good, it weakens Vlad. It is probably the only reason you were able to escape the castle without being trapped by his hypnotic powers.”
I considered this in silence a moment before I asked, ”And now-are you mortal again?”
At this, he laughed suddenly; the sound brought Archangel to his feet. ”Who knows? I suppose it depends on whether I have truly found the philosopher's stone. You are a scientist, too; no doubt you can understand, I have no empirical evidence except”-and he swept his arms out, looking down at the scrawny body beneath his robe with amus.e.m.e.nt- ”I do not seem to have died yet.”
As he laughed, he brought out a crudely formed cup from a nearby cabinet and set it on the table in front of me, then fetched a smaller kettle from the hearth and poured a dark- looking brew into it. ”Drink,” he said, in a suddenly stern tone that allowed no contradiction.
”It will do you good.”
Tentatively, I raised the cup to my face, pausing to smell the muddy brown liquid. ”What is this?”
”A medicinal draught of herbs. To cure what ails you.
I frowned. ”Nothing ails me. At least, not that a tisane of herbs can right.”
A glimmer of hilarity pa.s.sed over his features, then was firmly repressed. ”You are indeed a physician, aren't you, Doctor Van Helsing? Do you not trust me? Do you think that I have rescued you, bandaged you, fed you, provided a warm bed for you, only to poison you now?”
I hesitated perhaps a second longer than was polite (which seemed only to cheer him all the more, a fact I found rather irritating). ”No. Of course not. But I would like to know what purpose this serves. Out of . . . professional curiosity.”
”To stengthen you, my friend. For your return to the castle. Have I offered you anything here that has not brought you good?”He had a point. I had, after all, gulped down the soup without a second's thought; and Arminius had obviously managed to successfully treat my wounded shoulder and the impossibly nonexistent frostbite.
But I had always scoffed at folk medicine, which I felt was as liable to kill as to cure. I scowled uncertainly down at the liquid in the cup. It looked somewhat like plain black tea, but the smell was altogether different and peculiar, with strong overtones of earth. I took a small sip and could not repress a grimace; indeed, it was all I could manage not to spit the ”tea” back into the cup.
My less than gracious response again faintly amused him, but his demeanour remained one of firmness. ”Yes, it is bitter. Many things are, but they are necessary. Drink. Drink.”
His insistence took me aback. I did not quite understand it, except that he obviously felt the concoction had some value. I opened my mouth to inquire as to its specific purpose, but he spoke first.
”Since you share an interest in the medical arts ... I have seen many changes over the years in medicine-some good, others not so very. You doctors have lost too much of the old herbal knowledge; it would do you good to add such things to your practice.”
”Herbal knowledge?” I asked.
He looked pointedly at the cup in my hand; I gave a sickly smile and took another tiny sip.
Bitter, indeed -to the point of inducing nausea. Had I not trusted him, I might have thought it was poison. But he smiled again at my pained reaction as I swallowed, and replied: ”Such as the proper use of wolfsbane. And garlic. And the petals of the wild rose. We will speak of this again, Abraham, when you return.”
I glanced at him askance-and took another sip of the terrible tea at his insistent look.
Apparently, he expected me to depart, then come again. But his expression remained enigmatic, and he supplied no answer, even when I asked in jest, ”Am I leaving again so soon.”
Instead, he changed the subject and began speaking at length about the subject of homeopathy, while I slowly drank the vile brew; about how ingesting a small amount of what ailed a body in fact often brought a cure.
I could not resist arguing against it, in defense of my profession and beliefs. I cited many an example, all of which he attempted to refute; in desperation, I at last gave what I believed to be a compelling comparison. ”It is as foolish,” I said, ”as attempting to avoid the vampire by allowing him one small bite.”
At that, he grew quite silent and gazed at me searchingly. ”You are more correct than you know, Abraham. To 'cure' the vampire, you must become the vampire.”
His words chilled me to the core. Quite literally, for I suddenly realised that my arms were freezing cold. I rubbed them in an effort to warm them, then glanced back up at Arminius to see he smiled encouragingly, despite the alarming statement he had just made.
As I stared at him, I realised that, behind him, the fire had grown exceptionally colourful, the flames changing from red and orange to green and blue and violet before my eyes. The room, too, was changing in perspective, seeming suddenly enormously large. Ar-minius himself was transforming, from a white-haired man into a handsome white wolf like Archangel, who still lay sleeping in front of the fire.I realised of a sudden that I, too, had changed; that I could see a strange glow around Arminius and Archangel, which seemed to undulate with their breath and movement and change colour. And I could hear everything: our breathing, the beating of our hearts, the sound of our digestion. I could even hear that the snow outside had stopped falling.
Suddenly compelled by a sense of wild freedom, I ran towards the door and discovered I was no longer in the body known to Abraham Van Helsing but in a young, strong animal body-that of a wolf, like Archangel and Arminius. The knowledge filled me with exhilaration and euphoria, like a prisoner suddenly released who has heretofore never known he was in jail.
As I approached the door, it opened before my very will.
Outside, the night was bright and clear, filled with a moon shot through with prismatic glints of violet, red, blue. So brightly did it and the stars s.h.i.+ne down on the sparkling fresh snow that it seemed day, not night. I bounded off into it in my wolf-body, but within an instant I realised I was not running at all-nor entrapped within any body, but gliding easily upon the cold breeze.
I rode the wind over high, glistening white mountains, over valleys, pa.s.sing by isolated cottages until I found a suitable large town. There, looking down from my avian perspective, I saw a radiant warm glow-like that cast by a fire-emanating from the peasant cottages upon the hillside and the finer homes in the valley. Like a feather I floated down, past homes and shuttered windows, marvelling at the sound of breathing that came from within, of the beating hearts, at the smell of warm flesh as unmistakable as if my face were pressed against it. ...
I chose a large house-an inn, according to the sign above the door chime-where the sounds and smells were particularly inviting. There I felt myself coalesce in front of a shuttered door.