Interview with the Vampire

PART II

All night long I stood on the deck of the French ship Mariana, watching the gangplanks. The long levee was crowded, and parties lasted late in the lavish staterooms, the decks rumbling with passengers and guests. But finally, as the hours moved toward dawn, the parties were over one by one, and carriages left the narrow riverfront streets. A few late passengers came aboard, a couple lingered for hours at the rail nearby. But Lestat and his apprentice, if they survived the fire (and I was convinced that they had) did not find their way to the ship. Our luggage had left the flat that day; and if anything had remained to let them know our destination, I was sure it had been destroyed. Yet still I watched. Claudia sat securely locked in our stateroom, her eyes fixed on the porthole. But Lestat did not come.

“Finally, as I’d hoped, the commotion of putting out commenced before daylight. A few people waved from the pier and the grassy hump of the levee as the great ship began first to shiver, then to jerk violently to one side, and then to slide out in one great majestic motion into the current of the Mississippi.

“The lights of New Orleans grew small and dim until there appeared behind us only a pale phosphorescence against the lightening clouds. I was fatigued beyond my worst memory, yet I stood on the deck for as long as I could see that fight, knowing that I might never see it again. In moments we were carried downstream past the piers of Freniere and Pointe du Lac and then, as I could see the great wall of cottonwood and cypress growing green out of the darkness along the shore, I knew it was almost morning. Too perilously close.

“And as I put the key into the lock of the cabin I felt the greatest exhaustion perhaps that I’d ever known. Never in all the years I’d lived in our select family had I known the fear I’d experienced tonight, the vulnerability, the sheer terror. And there was to be no sudden relief from it. No sudden sense of safety. Only that relief which weariness at last imposes, when neither mind nor body can endure the terror any longer. For though Lestat was now miles away from us, he had in his resurrection awakened in me a tangle of complex fears which I could not escape. Even as Claudia said to me, ‘We’re safe, Louis, safe,’ and I whispered the word yes to her, I could see Lestat hanging in the doorway, see those bulbous eyes, that scarred flesh. How had he come back, how had he triumphed over death? How could any creature have survived that shriveled ruin he’d become? Whatever the answer, what did it mean — not only for him, but for Claudia, for me? Safe from him we were, but safe from ourselves?

“The ship was struck by a strange ‘fever.’ It was amazingly clean of vermin, however, though occasionally their bodies might be found, weightless and dry, as if the creatures had been dead for days. Yet there was this fever. It struck a passenger first in the form of weakness and a soreness about the throat; occasionally there were marks there, and occasionally the marks were someplace else; or sometimes there were no recognizable marks at all, though an old wound was reopened and painful again. And sometimes the passenger who fell to sleeping more and more as the voyage progressed and the fever progressed died in his sleep. So there were burials at sea on several occasions as we crossed the Atlantic. Naturally afraid of fever, I shunned the passengers, did not wish to join them in the smoking room, get to know their stories, hear their dreams and expectations. I took my ‘meals’ alone. But Claudia liked to watch the passengers, to stand on deck and see them come and go in the early evening, to say softly to me later as I sat at the porthole, ‘I think she’ll fall prey…’

“I would put the book down and look out the porthole, feeling the gentle rocking of the sea, seeing the stars, more clear and brilliant than they had ever been on land, dipping down to touch the waves. It seemed at moments, when I sat alone in the dark stateroom, that the sky had come down to meet the sea and that some great secret was to be revealed in that meeting, some great gulf miraculously closed forever. But who was to make this revelation when the sky and sea became indistinguishable and neither any longer was chaos? God? Or Satan? It struck me suddenly what consolation it would be to know Satan, to look upon his face, no matter how terrible that countenance was, to know that I belonged to him totally, and thus put to rest forever the torment of this ignorance. To step through some veil that would forever separate me from all that I called human nature.

“I felt the ship moving closer and closer to this secret. There was no visible end to the firmament; it closed about us with breathtaking beauty and silence. But then the words put to rest became horrible. Because there would be no rest in damnation, could be no rest; and what was this torment compared to the restless fires of hell? The sea rocking beneath those constant stars — those stars themselves — what had this to do with Satan? And those images which sound so static to us in childhood when we are all so taken up with mortal frenzy that we can scarce imagine them desirable: seraphim gazing forever upon the face of God — and the face of God itself — this was rest eternal, of which this gentle, cradling sea was only the faintest promise.

“But even in these moments, when the ship slept and all the world slept, neither heaven nor hell seemed more than a tormenting fancy. To know, to believe, in one or the other… that was perhaps the only salvation for which I could dream.

“Claudia, with Lestat’s liking for light, lit the lamps when she rose. She had a marvelous pack of playing cards, acquired from a lady on board; the picture cards were in the fashion of Marie Antoinette, and the backs of the cards bore gold fleurs-de-lis on gleaming violet. She played a game of solitaire in which the cards made the numbers of a clock. And she asked me until I finally began to answer her, how Lestat had accomplished it. She was no longer shaken. If she remembered her screams in the fire she did not care to dwell on them. If she remembered that, before the fire, she had wept real tears in my arms, it made no change in her; she was, as always in the past, a person of little indecision, a person for whom habitual quiet did not mean anxiety or regret.

“ ‘We should have burned him,’ she said. ‘We were fools to think from his appearance that he was dead.’

“ ‘But how could he have survived?’ I asked her. ‘You saw him, you know what became of him.’ I had no taste for it, really. I would have gladly pushed it to the back of my mind, but my mind would not allow me to. And it was she who gave me the answers now, for the dialogue was really with herself. ‘Suppose, though, he had ceased to fight us,’ she explained, ‘that he was still living, locked in that helpless dried corpse, conscious and calculating…’

“ ‘Conscious in that state!’ I whispered.

“ ‘And suppose, when he reached the swamp waters and heard the sounds of our carriage going away, that he had strength enough to propel those limbs to move. There were creatures all around him in the dark. I saw him once rip the head of a small garden lizard and watch the blood run down into a glass. Can you imagine the tenacity of the will to live in him, his hands groping in that water for anything that moved?’

“ ‘The will to live? Tenacity?’ I murmured. ‘Suppose it was something else…’

“ ‘And then, when he’d felt the resuscitation of his strength, just enough perhaps to have sustained him to the road, somewhere along that road he found someone. Perhaps he crouched, waiting for a passing carriage; perhaps he crept, gathering still what blood he could until he came to the shacks of those immigrants or those scattered country houses. And what a spectacle he must have been!’ She gazed at the hanging lamp, her eyes narrow, her voice muted, without emotion. ‘And then what did he do? It’s clear to me. If he could not have gotten back to New Orleans in time, he could most definitely have reached the Old Bayou cemetery. The charity hospital feeds it fresh coffins every day. And I can see him clawing his way through the moist earth for such a coffin, dumping the fresh contents out in the swamps, and securing himself until the next nightfall in that shallow grave where no manner of man would be wont to disturb him. Yes… that is what he did, I’m certain.’

“I thought of this for a long time, picturing it, seeing that it must have happened. And then I heard her add thoughtfully, as she laid down her card and looked at the oval face of a white-coiffed king, ‘I could have done it.

“ ‘And why do you look that way at me?’ she asked, gathering up her cards, her small fingers struggling to make a neat pack of them and then to shuffle them.

“ ‘But you do believe… that had we burned his remains he would have died?’ I asked.

“ ‘Of course I believe it. If there is nothing to rise, there is nothing to rise. What are you driving at?’ She was dealing out the cards now, dealing a hand for me on the small oak table. I looked at the cards, but I did not touch them.

“ ‘I don’t know…’ I whispered to her. ‘Only that perhaps there was no will to live, no tenacity… because very simply there was no need of either.’

“Her eyes gazed at me steadily, giving no hint of her thoughts or that she understood mine.

“ ‘Because perhaps he was incapable of dying… perhaps he is, and we are… truly immortal?’

“For a longtime she sat there looking at me.

“ ‘Consciousness in that state…’ I finally added, as I looked away from her. ‘If it were so, then mightn’t there be consciousness in any other? Fire, sunlight… what does it matter?’

“ ‘Louis,’ she said, her voice soft. ‘You’re afraid. You don’t stand en garde against fear. You don’t understand the danger of fear itself. We’ll know these answers when we find those who can tell us, those who’ve possessed knowledge for centuries, for however long creatures such as ourselves have walked the earth. That knowledge was our birthright, and he deprived us. He earned his death.’

“ ‘But he didn’t die…’ I said.

“ ‘He’s dead,’ she said. ‘No one could have escaped that house unless they’d run with us, at our very side. No. He’s dead, and so is that trembling aesthete, his friend. Consciousness, what does it matter?’

“She gathered up the cards and put them aside, gesturing for me to hand her the books from the table beside the bunk, those books which she’d unpacked immediately on board, the few select records of vampire lore which she’d taken to be her guides. They included no wild romances from England, no stories of Edgar Allan Poe, no fancy. Only those few accounts of the vampires of eastern Europe, which had become for her a sort of Bible. In those countries indeed they did burn the remains of the vampire when they found him, and the heart was staked and the head severed. She would read these now for hours, these ancient books which had been read and reread before they ever found their way across the Atlantic; they were travelers’ tales, the accounts of priests and scholars. And she would plan our trip, not with the need of any pen or paper, only in her mind. A trip that would take us at once away from the glittering capitals of Europe towards the Black Sea, where we would dock at Varna and begin that search in the rural countryside of the Carpathians.

“For me it was a grim prospect, bound as I was to it, for there were longings in me for other places and other knowledge which Claudia did not begin to comprehend. Seeds of these longings had been planted in me years ago, seeds which came to bitter flower as our ship passed through the Straits of Gibraltar and into the waters of the Mediterranean Sea.

“I wanted those waters to be blue. And they were not. They were the nighttime waters, and how I suffered then, straining to remember the seas that a young man’s untutored senses had taken for granted, that an undisciplined memory had let slip away for eternity. The Mediterranean was black, black off the coast of Italy, black off the coast of Greece, black always, black when in the small cold hours before dawn, as even Claudia slept, weary of her books and the meager fare that caution allowed her vampire hunger, I lowered a lantern down, down through the rising vapor until the fire blazed right over the lapping waters; and nothing came to light on that heaving surface but the light itself, the reflection of that beam traveling constant with me, a steady eye which seemed to fix on me from the depths and say, ‘Louis, your quest is for darkness only. This sea is not your sea. The myths of men are not your myths. Men’s treasures are not yours.’

“But oh, how the quest for the Old World vampires filled me with bitterness in those moments, a bitterness I could all but taste, as if the very air had lost its freshness. For what secrets, what truths had those monstrous creatures of night to give us? What, of necessity, must be their terrible limits, if indeed we were to find them at all? What can the damned really say to the damned?

“I never stepped ashore at Piraeus. Yet in my mind I roamed the Acropolis at Athens, watching the moon rise through the open roof of the Parthenon, measuring my height by the grandeur of those columns, walking the streets of those Greeks who died at Marathon, listening to the sound of wind in the ancient olives. These were the monuments of men who could not die, not the stones of the living dead; here the secrets that had endured the passage of time, which I had only dimly begun to understand. And yet nothing turned me from our quest and nothing could turn me, but over and over, committed as I was, I pondered the great risk of our questions, the risk of any question that is truthfully asked; for the answer must carry an incalculable price, a tragic danger. Who knew that better than I, who had presided over the death of my own body, seeing all I called human wither and die only to form an unbreakable chain which held me fast to this world yet made me forever its exile, a specter with a beating heart?

“The sea lulled me to bad dreams, to sharp remembrances. A winter night in New Orleans when I wandered through the St. Louis cemetery and saw my sister, old and bent, a bouquet of white roses in her arms, the thorns carefully bound in an old parchment, her gray head bowed, her steps carrying her steadily along through the perilous dark to the grave where the stone of her brother Louis was set, side by side with that of his younger brother. Louis, who had died in the fire of Pointe du Lac leaving a generous legacy to a godchild and namesake she never knew. Those flowers were for Louis, as if it had not been half a century since his death, as if her memory, like Louis’s memory, left her no peace. Sorrow sharpened her ashen beauty, sorrow bent her narrow back. And what I would not have given, as I watched her, to touch her silver hair, to whisper love to her, if love would not have loosed on her remaining years a horror worse than grief. I left her with grief. Over and over and over.

“And I dreamed now too much. I dreamed too long, in the prison of this ship, in the prison of my body, attuned as it was to the rise of every sun as no mortal body had ever been. And my heart beat faster for the mountains of eastern Europe, finally, beat faster for the one hope that somewhere we might find in that primitive countryside the answer to why under God this suffering was allowed to exist why under God it was allowed to begin, and how under God it might be ended. I had not the courage to end it, I knew, without that answer. And in time the waters of the Mediterranean became, in fact, the waters of the Black Sea”

The vampire sighed. The boy was resting on his elbow, his face cradled in his right palm; and his avid expression was incongruous with the redness of his eyes.

“Do you think I’m playing with you?” the vampire asked, his fine dark eyebrows knitted for an instant.

“No,” the boy said quickly. “I know better than to ask you any more questions. You’ll tell me everything in your own time.” And his mouth settled, and he looked at the vampire as though he were ready for him to begin again.

There was a sound then from far off. It came from somewhere in the old Victorian building around them, the first such sound they’d heard. The boy looked up towards the hallway door. It was as if he’d forgotten the building existed. Someone walked heavily on the old boards. But the vampire was undisturbed. He looked away as if he were again disengaging himself from the present.

“That village. I can’t tell you the name of it; the name’s gone. I remember it was miles from the coast, however, and we’d been traveling alone by carriage. And such a carriage! It was Claudia’s doing, that carriage, and I should have expected it; but then, things are always taking me unawares. From the first moment we arrived in Varna, I had perceived certain changes in her which made me at once aware she was Lestat’s daughter as well as my own. From me she had learned the value of money, but from Lestat she had inherited a passion for spending it; and she wasn’t to leave without the most luxurious black coach we could manage, outfitted with leather seats that might have accommodated a band of travelers, let alone a man and a child who used the magnificent compartment only for the transportation of an ornately carved oak chest. To the back were strapped two trunks of the finest clothes the shops there could provide; and we went speeding along, those light enormous wheels and fine springs carrying that bulk with a frightening ease over the mountain roads. There was a thrill to that when there was nothing else in this strange country, those horses at a gallop and the gentle listing of that carriage.

“And it was strange country. Lonely, dark, as rural country is always dark, its castles and ruins often obscured when the moon passed behind the clouds, so that I felt an anxiety during those hours I’d never quite experienced in New Orleans. And the people themselves were no relief. We were naked and lost in their tiny hamlets, and conscious always that amongst them we were in grave danger.

“Never in New Orleans had the kill to be disguised. The ravages of fever, plague, crime — these things competed with us always there, and outdid us. But here we had to go to great lengths to make the kill unnoticed. Because these simple country people, who might have found the crowded streets of New Orleans terrifying, believed completely that the dead did walk and did drink the blood of the living. They knew our names: vampire, devil. And we, who were on the lookout for the slightest rumor, wanted under no circumstances to create rumor ourselves.

“We traveled alone and fast and lavishly amongst them, struggling to be safe within our ostentation, finding talk of vampires all too cheap by the inn fires, where, my daughter sleeping peacefully against my chest, I invariably found someone amongst the peasants or guests who spoke enough German or, at times, even French to discuss with me the familiar legends.

“But finally we came to that village which was to be the turning point in our travels. I savor nothing about that journey, not the freshness of the air, the coolness of the nights. I don’t talk of it without a vague tremor even now.

“We had been at a farmhouse the night before, and so no news prepared us — only the desolate appearance of the place: because it wasn’t late when we reached it, not late enough for all the shutters of the little street to be bolted or for a darkened lantern to be swinging from the broad archway of the inn.

“Refuse was collected in the doorways. And there were other signs that something was wrong. A small box of withered flowers beneath a shuttered shop window. A barrel rolling back and forth in the center of the inn yard. The place had the aspect of a town under siege by the plague.

“But even as I was setting Claudia down on the packed earth beside the carriage, I saw the crack of light beneath the inn door. ‘Put the hood of your cape up,’ she said quickly. ‘They’re coming.’ Someone inside was pulling back the latch.

“At first all I saw was the light behind the figure in the very narrow margin she allowed. Then the light from the carriage lanterns glinted in her eye.

“ ‘A room for the night!’ I said in German. ‘And my horses need tending, badly!’

“ ‘The night’s no time for traveling…’ she said to me in a peculiar, flat voice. ‘And with a child.’ As she said this, I noticed others in the room behind her. I could hear their murmurings and see the flickering of a fire. From what I could see there were mostly peasants gathered around it, except for one man who was dressed much like myself in a tailored coat, with an overcoat over his shoulders; but his clothes were neglected and shabby. His red hair gleamed in the firelight. He was a foreigner, like ourselves, and he was the only one not looking at us. His head wagged slightly as if he were drunk.

“ ‘My daughter’s tired,’ I said to the woman. ‘we’ve no place to stay but here.’ And now I took Claudia into my arms. She turned her face towards me, and I heard her whisper, ‘Louis, the garlic, the crucifix above the door.’

“I had not seen these things. It was a small crucifix, with the body of Christ in bronze fixed to the wood, and the garlic was wreathed around it, a fresh garland entwined with an old one, in which the buds were withered and dried. The woman’s eye followed my eyes, and then she looked at me sharply and I could see how exhausted she was, how red were her pupils, and how the hand which clutched at the shawl at her breast trembled. Her black hair was completely disheveled. I pressed nearer until I was almost at the threshold, and she opened the door wide suddenly as if she’d only just decided to let us in. She said a prayer as I passed her, I was sure of it, though I couldn’t understand the Slavic words.

“The small, low-beamed room was filled with people, men and women along the rough, paneled walls, on benches and even on the floor. It was as if the entire village were gathered there. A child slept in a woman’s lap and another slept on the staircase, bundled in blankets, his knees tucked in against one step, his arms making a pillow for his head on the next. And everywhere there was the garlic hanging from nails and hooks, along with the cooking pots and flagons. The fire was the only light, and it threw distorting shadows on the still faces as they watched us.

“No one motioned for us to sit or offered us anything, and finally the woman told me in German I might take the horses into the stable if I liked. She was staring at me with those slightly wild, red-rimmed eyes, and then her face softened. She told me she’d stand at the inn door for me with a lantern, but I must hurry and leave the child here.

“But something else had distracted me, a scent I detected beneath the heavy fragrance of burning wood and the wine. It was the scent of death. I could feel Claudia’s hand press my chest, and I saw her tiny finger pointing to a door at the foot of the stairs. The scent came from there.

“The woman had a cup of wine waiting when I returned, and a bowl of broth. I sat down, Claudia on my knee, her head turned away from the fire towards that mysterious door. All eyes were fixed on us as before, except for the foreigner. I could see his profile now clearly. He was much younger than I’d thought, his haggard appearance stemming from emotion. He had a lean but very pleasant face actually, his light, freckled skin making him seem like a boy. His wide, blue eyes were fixed on the fire as though he were talking to it, and his eyelashes and eyebrows were golden in the light, which gave him a very innocent, open expression. But he was miserable, disturbed, drunk. Suddenly he turned to me, and I saw he’d been crying. ‘Do you speak English?’ he said, his voice booming in the silence.

“ ‘Yes, I do,’ I said to him. And he glanced at the others, triumphantly. They stared at him stonily.

“ ‘You speak English!’ he cried, his lips stretching into a bitter smile, his eyes moving around the ceiling and then fixing on mine. ‘Get out of this country,’ he said. ‘Get out of it now. Take your carriage, your horses, drive them till they drop, but get out of it!’ Then his shoulders convulsed as if he were sick. He put his hand to his mouth. The woman who stood against the wall now, her arms folded over her soiled apron, said calmly in German, ‘At dawn you can go. At dawn.’

“ ‘But what is it?’ I whispered to her; and then I looked to him. He was watching me, his eyes glassy and red. No one spoke. A log fell heavily in the fire.

“ ‘Won’t you tell me?’ I asked the Englishman gently. He stood up. For a moment I thought he was going to fall. He loomed over me, a much taller man than myself, his head pitching forward, then backward, before he righted himself and put his hands on the edge of the table. His black coat was stained with wine, and so was his shirt cuff. ‘You want to see?’ he gasped as he peered into my eyes. ‘Do you want to see for yourself?’ There was a soft, pathetic tone to his voice as he spoke these words.

“ ‘Leave the child!’ said the woman abruptly, with a quick, imperious gesture.

“ ‘She’s sleeping,’ I said. And, rising, I followed the Englishman to the door at the foot of the stairs.

“There was a slight commotion as those nearest the door moved away from it. And we entered a small parlor together.

“Only one candle burned on the sideboard, and the first thing I saw was a row of delicately painted plates on a shelf. There were curtains on the small window, and a gleaming picture of the Virgin Mary and Christ child on the wall. But the walls and chairs barely enclosed a great oak table, and on that table lay the body of a young woman, her white hands folded on her breast, her auburn hair mussed and tucked about her thin, white throat and under her shoulders. Her pretty face was already hard with death. Amber rosary beads gleamed around her wrist and down the side of her dark wool skirt. And beside her lay a very pretty red felt hat with a wide, soft brim and a veil, and a pair of dark gloves. It was all laid there as if she would very soon rise and put these things on. And the Englishman patted the hat carefully now as he drew close to her. He was on the verge of breaking down altogether. He’d drawn a large handkerchief out of his coat, and he had put it to his face. ‘Do you know what they want to do with her?’ he whispered as he looked at me. ‘Do you have any idea?’

“The woman came in behind us and reached for his arm, but he roughly shook her off. ‘Do you know?’ he demanded of me with his eyes fierce. ‘Savages!’

“ ‘You stop now! she said under her breath.

“He clenched his teeth and shook his head, so that a shock of his red hair loosened in his eyes. ‘You get away from me,’ he said to the woman in German. ‘Get away from me.’ Someone was whispering in the other room. The Englishman looked again at the young woman, and his eyes filled with tears. ‘So innocent,’ he said softly; and then he glanced at the ceiling and, making a fist with his right hand, he gasped, ‘Damn you… God! Damn you!’

“ ‘Lord,’ the woman whispered, and quickly she made the Sign of the Cross.

“ ‘Do you see this?’ he asked me. And he pried very carefully at the lace of the dead woman’s throat, as though he could not, did not wish to actually touch the hardening flesh. Thereon her throat, unmistakable, were the two puncture wounds, as I’d seen them a thousand times upon a thousand, engraved in the yellowing skin. The man drew his hands up to his face, his tall, lean body rocking on the balls of his feet. ‘I think I’m going mad!’ he said.

“ ‘Come now,’ said the woman, holding onto him as he struggled, her face suddenly flushed.

“ ‘Let him be,’ I said to her. ‘Just let him be. I’ll take care of him.’

“Her mouth contorted. ‘I’ll throw you all out of here, out into that dark, if you don’t stop.’ She was too weary for this, too close to some breaking point herself. But then she turned her back on us, drawing her shawl tight around her, and padded softly out, the men who’d gathered at the door making way for her.

“The Englishman was crying.

“I could see what I must do, but it wasn’t only that I wanted so much to learn from him, my heart pounding with silent excitement. It was heartrending to see him this way. Fate brought me too mercilessly close to him.

“ ‘I’ll stay with you,’ I offered. And I brought two chairs up beside the table. He sat down heavily, his eyes on the flickering candle at his side. I shut the door, and the walls seemed to recede and the circle of the candle to grow brighter around his bowed head. He leaned back against the sideboard and wiped his face with his handkerchief. Then he drew a leatherbound flask from his pocket and offered it to me, and I said no.

“ ‘Do you want to tell me what happened?’

“He nodded. ‘Perhaps you can bring some sanity to this place,’ he said. ‘You’re a Frenchman, aren’t you? You know, I’m English.’

“ ‘Yes,’ I nodded.

“And then, pressing my hand fervently, the liquor so dulling his senses that he never felt the coldness of it, he told me his name was Morgan and he needed me desperately, more than he’d ever needed anyone in his life. And at that moment, holding that hand, feeling the fever of it, I did a strange thing. I told him my name, which I confided to almost no one. But he was looking at the dead woman as if he hadn’t heard me, his lips forming what appeared to be the faintest smile, the tears standing in his eyes. His expression would have moved any human being; it might have been more than some could bear.

“ ‘I did this,’ he said, nodding. ‘I brought her here.’ And he raised his eyebrows as if wondering at it.

“ ‘No,’ I said quickly. ‘You didn’t do it. Tell me who did.’

“But then he seemed confused, lost in thought. ‘I’d never been out of England,’ he started. ‘I was painting, you see… as if it mattered now… the paintings, the book! I thought it all so quaint! So picturesque!’ His eyes moved over the room, his voice trailing off. For a long time he looked at her again, and then softly he said to her, ‘Emily,’ and I felt I’d glimpsed something precious he held to his heart.

“Gradually, then, the story began to come. A honeymoon journey, through Germany, into this country, wherever the regular coaches would carry them, wherever Morgan found scenes to paint. And they’d come to this remote place finally because there was a ruined monastery nearby which was said to be a very well reserved place.

“But Morgan and Emily had never reached that monastery. Tragedy had been waiting for them here.

“It turned out the regular coaches did not come this way, and Morgan had paid a farmer to bring them by cart. But the afternoon they arrived, there was a great commotion in the cemetery outside of town. The farmer, taking one look, refused to leave his cart to see further.

“ ‘It was some kind of procession, it seemed,’ Morgan said, ‘with all the people outfitted in their best, and some with flowers; and the truth was I thought it quite fascinating. I wanted to see it. I was so eager I had the fellow leave us, bags and all. We could see the village just up ahead. Actually it was I more than Emily, of course, but she was so agreeable, you see. I left her, finally, seated on our suitcases, and I went on up the hill without her. Did you see it when you were coming, the cemetery? No, of course you didn’t. Thank God that carriage of yours brought you here safe and sound. Though, if you’d driven on, no matter how bad off your horses were…’ He stopped.

“ ‘What’s the danger?’ I urged him, gently.

“ ‘Ah… danger! Barbarians!’ he murmured. And he glanced at the door. Then he took another drink from his flask and capped it.

“ Well, it was no procession. I saw that right off,’ he said. ‘The people wouldn’t even speak to me when I came up — you know what they are; but they had no objection to letting me watch. The truth was, you wouldn’t have thought I was standing there at all. You won’t believe me when I tell you what I saw, but you must believe me; because if you don’t, I’m mad, I know it.’

“ ‘I will believe you, go on,’ I said.

“ ‘Well, the cemetery was full of fresh graves, I saw that at once, some of them with new wooden crosses and some of them just mounds of earth with flowers still fresh; and the peasants there, they were holding flowers, a few of them, as though they meant to be trimming these graves; but all of them were standing stock-still, their eyes on these two fellows who had a white horse by the bridle — and what an animal that was! It was pawing and stomping and shying to one side, as if it wanted no part of the place; a beautiful thing it was, though, a splendid animal — a stallion, and pure white. Well, at some point — and I couldn’t tell you how they agreed upon it, because not a one of them said a word — one fellow, the leader, I think, gave the horse a tremendous whack with the handle of a shovel, and it took off up the hill, just wild. You can imagine, I thought that was the last we’d see of that horse for a while for sure. But I was wrong. In a minute it had slowed to a gallop, and it was turning around amongst the old graves and coming back down the hill towards the newer ones. And the people all stood there watching it. No one made a sound. And here it came trotting right over the mounds, right through the flowers, and no one made a move to get hold of the bridle. And then suddenly it came to a stop, right on one of the graves’

“He wiped at his eyes, but the tears were almost gone. He seemed fascinated with his tale, as I was.

“ ‘Well, here’s what happened,’ he continued. ‘The animal just stood there. And suddenly a cry went up from the crowd. No, it wasn’t a cry, it was as though they were all gasping and moaning, and then everything went quiet. And the horse was just standing there, tossing its head; and finally this fellow who was the leader burst forward and shouted to several of the others; and one of the women — she screamed, and threw herself on the grave almost under the horse’s hooves. I came up then as close as I could. I could see the stone with the deceased’s name on it; it was a young woman, dead only six months, the dates carved right there, and there was this miserable woman on her knees in the dirt, with her arms around the stone now, as if she meant to pull it right up out of the earth. And these fellows trying to pick her up and get her away.

“ ‘Now I almost turned back, but I couldn’t, not until I saw what they meant to do. And, of course, Emily was quite safe, and none of these people took the slightest notice of either of us. Well, two of them finally did have that woman up, and then the other had come with shovels and had begun to dig right into the grave. Pretty soon one of them was down in the grave, and everyone was so still you could hear the slightest sound, that shovel digging in there and the earth thrown up in a heap. I can’t tell you what it was like. Here was the sun high above us and not a cloud in the sky, and all of them standing around, holding onto one another now, and even that pathetic woman…’ He stopped now, because his eyes had fallen on Emily. I just sat there waiting for him. I could hear the whiskey when he lifted the flask again, and I felt glad for him that there was so much there, that he could drink it and deaden this pain. ‘It might as well have been midnight on that hill,’ he said, looking at me, his voice very low. ‘That’s how it felt. And then I could hear this fellow in the grave. He was cracking the coffin lid with his shovel! Then out came the broken boards. He was just tossing them out, right and left. And suddenly he let out an awful cry. The other fellows drew up close, and all at once there was a rush to the grave; and then they all fell back like a wave, all of them crying out, and some of them turning and trying to push away. And the poor woman, she was wild, bending her knees, and trying to get free of those men that were holding onto her. Well, I couldn’t help but go up. I don’t suppose anything could have kept me away; and I’ll tell you that’s the first time I’ve ever done such a thing, and, God help me, it’s to be the last. Now, you must believe me, you must! But there, right there in that coffin, with that fellow standing on the broken boards over her feet, was the dead woman, and I tell you… I tell you she was as fresh, as pink — his voice cracked, and he sat there, his eyes wide, his hand poised as if he held something invisible in his fingers, pleading with me to believe him — ’as pink as if she were alive! Buried six months! And there she lay! The shroud was thrown back off her, and her hands lay on her breast just as if she were asleep.’

“He sighed. His hand dropped to his leg and he shook his head, and for a moment he just sat staring. ‘I swear to you!’ he said. ‘And then this fellow who was in the grave, he bent down and lifted the dead woman’s hand. I tell you that arm moved as freely as my arm! And he held her hand out as if he were looking at her nails. Then he shouted; and that woman beside the grave, she was kicking at those fellows and shoving at the earth with her foot, so it fell right down in the corpse’s face and hair. And oh, she was so pretty, that dead woman; oh, if you could have seen her, and what they did then!’

“ ‘Tell me what they did,’ I said to him softly. But I knew before he said it.

“ ‘I tell you…’ he said. ‘We don’t know the meaning of something like that until we see it!’ And he looked at me, his eyebrow arched as if he were confiding a terrible secret. ‘We just don’t know.’

“ ‘No, we don’t,’ I said.

“ ‘I’ll tell you. They took a stake, a wooden stake, mind you; and this one in the grave, he took the stake with a hammer and he put it right to her breast. I didn’t believe it! And then with one great blow he drove it right into her. I tell you, I couldn’t have moved even if I’d wanted to; I was rooted there. And then that fellow, that beastly fellow, he reached up for his shovel and with both his arms he drove it sharp, right into the dead woman’s throat. The head was off like that! He shut his eyes, his face contorted, and put his head to the side.

“I looked at him, but I wasn’t seeing him at all. I was seeing this woman in her grave with the head severed, and I was feeling the most keen revulsion inside myself, as if a hand were pressing on my throat and my insides were coming up inside me and I couldn’t breathe. Then I felt Claudia’s lip against my wrist She was staring at Morgan, and apparently she had been for some time.

“Slowly Morgan looked up at me, his eyes wild. ‘It’s what they want to do with her,’ he said. ‘With Emily! Well I won’t let them.’ He shook his head adamantly. ‘I won’t let them. You’ve got to help me, Louis.’ His lips were trembling, and his face so distorted now by his sudden desperation that I might have recoiled from it despite myself. ‘The same blood flows in our veins, you and I. I mean, French, English, we’re civilized men, Louis. They’re savages!’

“ ‘Try to be calm now, Morgan,’ I said, reaching out for him. ‘I want you to tell me what happened then. You and Emily.’

“He was struggling for his bottle. I drew it out of his pocket, and he took off the cap. ‘That’s a fellow, Louis; that’s a friend,’ he said emphatically. ‘You see, I took her away fast. They were going to burn that corpse right there in the cemetery; and Emily was not to see that, not while I…’ He shook his head ‘There wasn’t a carriage to be found that would take us out of here; not a single one of them would leave now for the two days’ drive to get us to a decent place!’

“ ‘But how did they explain it to you, Morgan?’ I insisted. I could see he did not have much time left.

“ ‘Vampires!’ he burst out, the whiskey sloshing on his hand. ‘Vampires, Louis. Can you believe that!’ And he gestured to the door with the bottle. ‘A plague of vampires! All this in whispers, as if the devil himself were listening at the door! Of course, God have mercy, they put a stop to it. That unfortunate woman in the cemetery, they’d stopped her from clawing her way up nightly to feed on the rest of us!’ He put the bottle to his lips. ‘Oh… God…’ he moaned.

“I watched him drink, patiently waiting.

“ ‘And Emily…’ he continued. ‘She thought it fascinating. What with the fire out there and a decent dinner and a proper glass of wine. She hadn’t seen that woman! She hadn’t seen what they’d done,’ he said desperately. ‘Oh, I wanted to get out of here; I offered them money. “If it’s over,” I kept saying to them, “one of you ought to want this money, a small fortune just to drive us out of here.” ’

“ ‘But it wasn’t over…’ I whispered.

“And I could see the tears gathering in his eyes, his mouth twisting with pain.

“ ‘How did it happen to her?’ I asked him.

“ ‘I don’t know,’ he gasped, shaking his head, the flask pressed to his forehead as if it were something cool, refreshing, when it was not.

“ ‘It came into the inn?’

“ ‘They said she went out to it,’ he confessed, the tears coursing down his cheeks. ‘Everything was locked! They saw to that. Doors, windows! Then it was morning and they were all shouting, and she was gone. The window stood wide open, and she wasn’t there. I didn’t even take time for my robe. I was running. I came to a dead halt over her, out there, behind the inn. My foot all but came down on her… she was just lying there under the peach trees. She held an empty cup. Clinging to it, an empty cup! They said it lured her… she was trying to give it water…’

“The flask slipped from his hands. He clapped his hands over his ears, his body bent, his head bowed.

“For a long time I sat there watching him; I had no words to say to him. And when he cried softly that they wanted to desecrate her, that they said she, Emily, was now a vampire, I assured him softly, though I don’t think he ever heard me, that she was not.

“He moved forward finally, as if he might fall. He appeared to be reaching for the candle, and before his arm rested on the buffet, his finger touched it so the hot wax extinguished the tiny bit that was left of the wick. We were in darkness then, and his head had fallen on his arm.

“All of the light of the room seemed gathered now in Claudia’s eyes. But as the silence lengthened and I sat there, wondering, hoping Morgan wouldn’t lift his head again, the woman came to the door. Her candle illuminated him, drunk, asleep.

“ ‘You go now,’ she said to me. Dark figures crowded around her, and the old wooden inn was alive with the shuffling of men and women. ‘Go by the fire!’

“ ‘What are you going to do!’ I demanded of her, rising and holding Claudia. ‘I want to know what you propose to do!’

“ ‘Go by the fire,’ she commanded.

“ ‘No, don’t do this,’ I said. But she narrowed her eyes and bared her teeth. ‘You go!’ she growled.

“ ‘Morgan,’ I said to him; but he didn’t hear me, he couldn’t hear me.

“ ‘Leave him be,’ said the woman fiercely.

“ ‘But it’s stupid, what you’re doing; don’t you understand? This woman’s dead!’ I pleaded with her.

“ ‘Louis,’ Claudia whispered, so that they couldn’t hear her, her arm tightening around my neck beneath the fur of my hood. ‘Let these people alone.’

“The others were moving into the room now, encircling the table, their faces grim as they looked at us.

“ ‘But where do these vampires come from!’ I whispered. ‘You’ve searched your cemetery! If it’s vampires, where do they hide from you? This woman can’t do you harm. Hunt your vampires if you must’

“ ‘By day,’ she said gravely, winking her eye and slowly nodding her head. ‘By day. We get them, by day.’

“ ‘Where, out there in the graveyard, digging up the graves of your own villagers?’

“She shook her head. ‘The ruins,’ she said. ‘It was always the ruins. We were wrong. In my grandfather’s time it was the ruins, and it is the ruins again. We’ll take them down stone by stone if we have to. But you… you go now. Because if you don’t go, we’ll drive you out there into that dark now!’

“And then out from behind her apron she drew her clenched fist with the stake in it and held it up in the flickering light of the candle. ‘You hear me, you go!’ she said; and the men pressed in close behind her, their mouths set, their eyes blazing in the light.

“ ‘Yes…’ I said to her. ‘Out there. I would prefer that. Out there.’ And I swept past her, almost throwing her aside, seeing them scuttle back to make way. I had my hand on the latch of the inn door and slid it back with one quick gesture.

“ ‘No!’ cried the woman in her guttural German. ‘You’re mad!’ And she rushed up to me and then stared at the latch, dumbfounded. She threw her hands up against the rough boards of the door. ‘Do you know what you do!’

“ ‘Where are the ruins?’ I asked her calmly. ‘How far? Do they lie to the left of the road, or to the right?’

“ ‘No, no’ She shook her head violently. I pried the door back and felt the cold blast of air on my face. One of the women said something sharp and angry from the wall, and one of the children moaned in its sleep. ‘I’m going. I want one thing from you. Tell me where the ruins lie, so I may stay clear of them. Tell me.’

“ ‘You don’t know, you don’t know,’ she said; and then I laid my hand on her warm wrist and drew her slowly through the door, her feet scraping on the boards, her eyes wild. The men moved nearer but, as she stepped out against her will into the night, they stopped. She tossed her head, her hair falling down into her eyes, her eyes glaring at my hand and at my face. ‘Tell me…’ I said.

“I could see she was staring not at me but at Claudia. Claudia had turned towards her, and the light from the fire was on her face. The woman did not see the rounded cheeks nor the pursed lips, I knew, but Claudia’s eyes, which were gazing at her with a dark, demonic intelligence. The woman’s teeth bit down into the flesh of her lip.

“ ‘To the north or south?’

“ ‘To the north…’ she whispered.

“ ‘To the left or the right?’

“ ‘The left.’

“ ‘And how far?’

“Her hand struggled desperately. ‘Three miles,’ she gasped. And I released her, so that she fell back against the door, her eyes wide with fear and confusion. I had turned to go, but suddenly behind me she cried out for me to wait. I turned to see she’d ripped the crucifix from the beam over her head, and she had it thrust out towards me now. And out of the dark nightmare landscape of my memory I saw Babette gazing at me as she had so many years ago, saying those words, ‘Get thee behind me, Satan.’ But the woman’s face was desperate. ‘Take it, please, in the name of God,’ she said. ‘And ride fast.’ And the door shut, leaving Claudia and me in total darkness.”

“In minutes the tunnel of the night closed upon the weak lanterns of our carriage, as if the village had never existed. We lurched forward, around a bend, the springs creaking, the dim moon revealing for an instant the pale outline of the mountains beyond the pines. I could not stop thinking of Morgan, stop hearing his voice. It was all tangled with my own horrified anticipation of meeting the thing which had killed Emily, the thing which was unquestionably one of our own. But Claudia was in a frenzy. If she could have driven the horses herself, she would have taken the reins. Again and again she urged me to use the whip. She struck savagely at the few low branches that dipped suddenly into the lamps before our faces; and the arm that clung to my waist on the rocking bench was as firm as iron.

“I remember the road turning sharply, the lanterns clattering, and Claudia calling out over the wind: ‘There, Louis, do you see it?’ And I jerked hard on the reins.

“She was on her knees, pressed against me, and the carnage was swaying like a ship at sea.

“A great fleecy cloud had released the moon, and high above us loomed the dark outline of the tower. One long window showed the pale sky beyond it. I sat there, clutching the bench, trying to steady a motion that continued in my head as the carriage settled on its springs. One of the horses whinnied. Then everything was still.

“Claudia was saying, ‘Louis, come…’

“I whispered something, a swift irrational negation. I had the distinct and terrifying impression that Morgan was near to me, talking to me in that low, impassioned way he’d pleaded with me in the inn. Not a living creature stirred in the night around us. There was only the wind and the soft rustling of the leaves.

“ ‘Do you think he knows we’re coming?’ I asked, my voice unfamiliar to me over this wind. I was in that little parlor, as if there were no escape from it, as if this dense forest were not real. I think I shuddered. And then I felt Claudia’s hand very gently touch the hand I lifted to my eyes. The thin pines were billowing behind her and the rustle of the leaves grew louder, as if a great mouth sucked the breeze and began a whirlwind. ‘They’ll bury her at the crossroads? Is that what they’ll do? An Englishwoman!’ I whispered.

“ ‘Would that I had your size…’ Claudia was saying. ‘And would that you had my heart. Oh, Louis…’

And her head inclined to me now, so like the attitude of the vampire bending to kiss that I shrank back from her; but her lips only gently pressed my own, finding a part there to suck the breath and let it flow back into me as my arms enclosed her. ‘Let me lead you…’ she pleaded. ‘There’s no turning back now. Take me in your arms,’ she said, ‘and let me down, on the road.’

“But it seemed an eternity that I just sat there feeling her lips on my face and on my eyelids. Then she moved, the softness of her small body suddenly snatched from me, in a movement so graceful and swift that she seemed now poised in the air beside the carriage, her hand clutching mine for an instant, then letting it go. And then I looked down to see her looking up at me, standing on the road in the shuddering pool of light beneath the lantern. She beckoned to me, as she stepped backwards, one small boot behind the other. ‘Louis, come down…’ until she threatened to vanish into the darkness. And in a second I’d unfastened the lamp from its hook, and I stood beside her in the tall grass.

“ ‘Don’t you sense the danger?’ I whispered to her. ‘Can’t you breathe it like the air?’ One of those quick, elusive smiles played on her lips, as she turned towards the slope. The lantern pitched a pathway through the rising forest. One small, white hand drew the wool of her cape close, and she moved forward.

“ ‘Wait only for a moment…’

“ ‘Fear’s your enemy…’ she answered, but she did not stop.

“She proceeded ahead of the light, feet sure, even as the tall grass gave way gradually to low heaps of rubble, and the forest thickened, and the distant tower vanished with the fading of the moon and the great weaving of the branches overhead. Soon the sound and scent of the horses died on the low wind. ‘Be en garde,’ Claudia whispered, as she moved, relentlessly, pausing only now and again where the tangled vines and rock made it seem for moments there was a shelter. But the ruins were ancient. Whether plague or fire or a foreign enemy had ravaged the town, we couldn’t know. Only the monastery truly remained.

“Now something whispered in the dark that was like the wind and the leaves, but it was neither. I saw Claudia’s back straighten, saw the flash of her white palm as she slowed her step. Then I knew it was the water, winding its way slowly down the mountain, and I saw it far ahead through the black trunks, a straight, moonlit waterfall descending to a boiling pool below. Claudia emerged silhouetted against the fall, her hand clutching a bare root in the moist earth beside it; and now I saw her climbing hand over hand up the overgrown cliff, her arm trembling ever so slightly, her small boots dangling, then digging in to hold, then swinging free again. The water was cold, and it made the air fragrant and light all around it, so that for a moment I rested. Nothing stirred around me in the forest. I listened, senses quietly separating the tune of the leaves, but nothing else stirred. And then it struck me gradually, like a chill coming over my arms and my throat and finally my face, that the night was too desolate, too lifeless. It was as if even the birds had shunned this place, as well as all the myriad creatures that should have been moving about the banks of this stream. But Claudia, above me on the ledge, was reaching for the lantern, her cape brushing my face. I lifted it, so that suddenly she sprang into light, like an eerie cherub. She put her hand out for me as if, despite her small size, she could help me up the embankment. In a moment we were moving on again, over the stream, up the mountain. ‘Do you sense it?’ I whispered. ‘It’s too still.’

“But her hand tightened on mine, as if to say, ‘Quiet.’ The hill was growing steeper, and the quiet was unnerving. I tried to stare at the limits of the light, to see each new bark as it loomed before us. Something did move, and I reached for Claudia, almost pulling her sharply near to me. But it was only a reptile, shooting through the leaves with a whip of his tail. The leaves settled. But Claudia moved back against me, under the folds of my cape, a hand firmly clasping the cloth of my coat; and she seemed to propel me forward, my cape falling over the loose fabric of her own.

“Soon the scent of the water was gone, and when the moon shone clear for an instant I could see right ahead of us what appeared to be a break in the woods. Claudia firmly clasped the lantern and shut its metal door. I moved to stop this, my hand struggling with hers; but then she said to me quietly, ‘Close your eyes for an instant, and then open them slowly. And when you do, you will see it.’

“A chill rose over me as I did this, during which I held fast to her shoulder. But then I opened my eyes and saw beyond the distant bark of the trees the long, low walls of the monastery and the high square top of the massive tower. Far beyond it, above an immense black valley, gleamed the snow-capped peaks of the mountains. ‘Come,’ she said to me, ‘quiet, as if your body has no weight.’ And she started without hesitation right towards those walls, right towards whatever might have been waiting in their shelter.

“In moments we had found the gap that would admit us, the great opening that was blacker still than the walls around it, the vines encrusting its edges as if to hold the stones in place. High above, through the open room, the damp smell of the stones strong in my nostrils, I saw, beyond the streaks of clouds, a faint sprinkling of stars. A great staircase moved upward, from corner to corner, all the way to the narrow windows that looked out upon the valley. And beneath the first rise of the stair, out of the gloom emerged the vast, dark opening to the monastery’s remaining rooms.

“Claudia was still now, as if she had become the stones. In the damp enclosure not even the soft tendrils of her hair moved. She was listening. And then I was listening with her. There was only the low backdrop of the wind. She moved, slowly, deliberately, and with one pointed foot gradually cleared a space in the moist earth in front of her. I could see a flat stone there, and it sounded hollow as she gently tapped it with her heel. Then I could see the broad size of it and how it rose at one distant corner; and an image came to mind, dreadful in its sharpness, of that band of men and women from the village surrounding the stone, raising it with a giant lever. Claudia’s eyes moved over the staircase and then fixed on the crumbling doorway beneath it. The moon shone for an instant through a lofty window. Then Claudia moved, so suddenly that she stood beside me without having made a sound. ‘Do you hear it?’ she whispered. ‘Listen.’

“It was so low no mortal could have heard it. And it did not come from the ruins. It came from far off, not the long, meandering way that we had come up the slope, but another way, up the spine of the hill, directly from the village. Just a rustling now, a scraping, but it was steady; and then slowly the round tramping of a foot began to distinguish itself. Claudia’s hand tightened on mine, and with a gentle pressure she moved me silently beneath the slope of the stairway. I could see the folds of her dress heave slightly beneath the edge of her cape. The tramp of the feet grew louder, and I began to sense that one step preceded the other very sharply, the second dragging slowly across the earth. It was a limping step, drawing nearer and nearer over the low whistling of the wind. My own heart beat hard against my chest, and I felt the veins in my temples tighten, a tremor passing through my limbs, so that I could feel the fabric of my shirt against me, the stiff cut of the collar, the very scraping of the buttons against my cape.

“Then a faint scent came with the wind. It was the scent of blood, at once arousing me, against my will, the warm, sweet scent of human blood, blood that was spilling, flowing and then I sensed the smell of living flesh and I heard in time with the feet a dry, hoarse breathing. But with it came another sound, faint and intermingled with the first, as the feet tramped closer and closer to the walls, the sound of yet another creature’s halting, strained breath. And I could hear the heart of that creature, beating irregularly, a fearful throbbing; but beneath that was another heart, a steady, pulsing heart growing louder and louder, a heart as strong as my own? Then, in the jagged gap through which we’d come, I saw him.

’His great, huge shoulder emerged first and one long, loose arm and hand, the fingers curved; then I saw his head. Over his other shoulder he was carrying a body. In the broken doorway he straightened and shifted the weight and stared directly into the darkness towards us. Every muscle in me became iron as I looked at him, saw the outline of his head looming there against the sky. But nothing of his face was visible except the barest glint of the moon on his eye as if it were a fragment of glass. Then I saw it glint on his buttons and heard them rustle as his arm swung free again and one long leg bent as he moved forward and proceeded into the tower right towards us.

“I held fast to Claudia, ready in an instant to shove her behind me, to step forward to meet him. But then I saw with astonishment that his eyes did not see me as I saw him, and he was trudging under the weight of the body he carried towards the monastery door. The moon fell now on his bowed head, on a mass of wavy black hair that touched his bent shoulder, and on the full black sleeve of his coat. I saw something about his coat; the flap of it was badly torn and the sleeve appeared to be ripped from the seam. I almost fancied I could see his flesh through the shoulder. The human in his arms stirred now, and moaned miserably. And the figure stopped for a moment and appeared to stroke the human with his hand. And at that moment I stepped forward from the wall and went towards him.

“No words passed my lips: I knew none to say. I only knew that I moved into the light of the moon before him and that his dark, wavy head rose with a jerk, and that I saw his eyes.

“For one full instant he looked at me, and I saw the light shining in those eyes and then glinting on two sharp canine teeth; and then a low strangled cry seemed to rise from the depths of his throat which, for a second, I thought to be my own. The human crashed to the stones, a shuddering moan escaping his lips. And the vampire lunged at me, that strangled cry rising again as the stench of fetid breath rose in my nostrils and the clawlike fingers cut into the very fur of my cape. I fell backwards, my head cracking against the wall, my hands grabbing at his head, clutching a mass of tangled filth that was his hair. At once the wet, rotting fabric of his coat ripped in my grasp, but the arm that held me was like iron; and, as I struggled to pull the head backwards, the fangs touched the flesh of my throat. Claudia screamed behind him. Something hit his head hard, which stopped him suddenly; and then he was hit again. He turned as if to strike her a blow, and I sent my fist against his face as powerfully as I could. Again a stone struck him as she darted away, and I threw my full weight against him and felt his crippled leg buckling. I remember pounding his head over and over, my fingers all but pulling that filthy hair out by the roots, his fangs projected towards me, his hands scratching, clawing at me. We rolled over and over, until I pinned him down again and the moon shone full on his face. And I realized, through my frantic sobbing breaths, what it was I held in my arms. The two huge eyes bulged from naked sockets and two small, hideous holes made up his nose; only a putrid, leathery flesh enclosed his skull, and the rank, rotting rags that covered his frame were thick with earth and slime and blood. I was battling a mindless, animated corpse. But no more.

“From above him, a sharp stone fell full on his forehead, and a fount of blood gushed from between his eyes. He struggled, but another stone crashed with such force I heard the bones shatter. Blood seeped out beneath the matted hair, soaking into the stones and grass. The chest throbbed beneath me, but the arms shuddered and grew still. I drew up, my throat knotted, my heart burning, every fiber of my body aching from the struggle. For a moment the great tower seemed to tilt, but then it righted itself. I lay against the wall, staring at the thing, the blood rushing in my ears. Gradually I realized that Claudia knelt on his chest, that she was probing the mass of hair and bone that had been his head. She was scattering the fragments of his skull. We had met the European vampire, the creature of the Old World. He was dead.

“For a long time I lay on the broad stairway, oblivious to the thick earth that covered it, my head feeling very cool against the earth, just looking at him. Claudia stood at his feet, hands hanging limply at her sides. I saw her eyes close for an instant, two tiny lids that made her face like a small, moonlit white statue as she stood there. And then her body began to rock very slowly. ‘Claudia,’ I called to her. She awakened. She was gaunt such as I had seldom seen her. She pointed to the human who lay far across the floor of the tower near the wall. He was still motionless, but I knew that he was not dead. I’d forgotten him completely, my body aching as it was, my senses still clouded with the stench of the bleeding corpse. But now I saw the man. And in some part of my mind I knew what his fate would be, and I cared nothing for it. I knew it was only an hour at most before dawn.

“ ‘He’s moving,’ she said to me. And I tried to rise off the steps. Better that he not wake, better that he never wake at all, I wanted to say; she was walking towards him, passing indifferently the dead thing that had nearly killed us both. I saw her back and the man stirring in front of her, his foot twisting in the grass. I don’t know what I expected to see as I drew nearer, what terrified peasant or farmer, what miserable wretch that had already seen the face of that thing that had brought it here. And for a moment I did not realize who it was that lay there, that it was Morgan, whose pale face showed now in the moon, the marks of the vampire on his throat, his blue eyes staring mute and expressionless before him.

“Suddenly they widened as I drew close to him. ‘Louis!’ he whispered in astonishment, his lips moving as if he were trying to frame words but could not. ‘Louis…’ he said again; and then I saw he was smiling. A dry, rasping sound came from him as he struggled to his knees, and he reached out for me. His blanched, contorted face strained as the sound died in his throat, and he nodded desperately, his red hair loose and disheveled, falling into his eyes. I turned and ran from him. Claudia shot past me, gripping me by the arm. ‘Do you see the color of the sky!’ she hissed at me. Morgan fell forward on his hands behind her. ‘Louis,’ he called out again, the light gleaming in his eyes. He seemed blind to the ruins, blind to the night, blind to everything but a face he recognized, that one word again issuing from his lips. I put my hands to my ears, backing away from him. His hand was bloody now as he lifted it. I could smell the blood as well as see it. And Claudia could smell it, too.

“Swiftly she descended on him, pushing him down against the stones, her white fingers moving through his red hair. He tried to raise his head. His outstretched hands made a frame about her face, and then suddenly he began to stroke her yellow curls. She sank her teeth, and the hands dropped helpless at his side.

“I was at the edge of the forest when she caught up with me. ‘You must go to him, take him,’ she commanded. I could smell the blood on her lips, see the warmth in her cheeks. Her wrist burned against me, yet I did not move. ‘Listen to me, Louis,’ she said, her voice at once desperate and angry. ‘I left him for you, but he’s dying… there’s no time.’

“I swung her up into my arms and started the long descent. No need for caution, no need for stealth, no preternatural host waiting. The door to the secrets of eastern Europe was shut against us. I was plowing through the dark to the road. ‘Will you listen to me,’ she cried out. But I went on in spite of her, her hands clutching at my coat, my hair. ‘Do you see the sky; do you see it!’ she railed.

“She was all but sobbing against my breast as I splashed through the icy stream and ran headlong in search of the lantern at the road.

“The sky was a dark blue when I found the carriage. ‘Give me the crucifix,’ I shouted to Claudia as I cracked the whip. ‘There’s only one place to go.’ She was thrown against me as the carriage rocked into its turn and headed for the village.

“I had the eeriest feeling then as I could see the mist rising amongst the dark brown trees. The air was cold and fresh and the birds had begun. It was as if the sun were rising. Yet I did not care. And yet I knew that it was not rising, that there was still time. It was a marvelous, quieting feeling. The scrapes and cuts burned my flesh and my heart ached with hunger, but my head felt marvelously light. Until I saw the gray shapes of the inn and the steeple of the church; they were too clear. And the stars above were fading fast.

“In a moment I was hammering on the door of the inn. As it opened, I put my hood up around my face tightly and held Claudia beneath my cape in a bundle. ‘Your village is rid of the vampire!’ I said to the woman, who stared at me in astonishment. I was clutching the crucifix which she’d given me. ‘Thanks be to God he’s dead. You’ll find the remains in the tower. Tell this to your people at once.’ I pushed past her into the inn.

“The gathering was roused into commotion instantly, but I insisted that I was tired beyond endurance. I must pray and rest. They were-to get my chest from the carriage and bring it to a decent room where I might sleep. But a message was to come for me from the bishop at Varna and for this, and this only, was I to be awakened. ‘Tell the good father when he arrives that the vampire is dead, and then give him food and drink and have him wait for me,’ I said. The woman was crossing herself. ‘You understand,’ I said to her, as I hurried towards the stairs, ‘I couldn’t reveal my mission to you until after the vampire had been…’

“ ‘Yes, yes,’ she said to me. ‘But you are not a priest… the child!’ ‘No, only too well-versed in these matters. The Unholy One is no match for me,’ I said to her. I stopped. The door of the little parlor stood open, with nothing but a white square of cloth on the oak table. ‘Your friend,’ she said to me, and she looked at the floor. ‘He rushed out into the night… he was mad.’ I only nodded.

“I could hear them shouting when I shut the door of the room. They seemed to be running in all directions; and then came the sharp sound of the church bell in the rapid peal of alarm. Claudia had slipped down from my arms, and she was staring at me gravely as I bolted the door. Very slowly I unlatched the shutter of the window. An icy light seeped into the room. Still she watched me. Then I felt her at my side. I looked down to see she was holding out her hand to me. ‘Here,’ she said. She must have seen I was confused. I felt so weak that her face was shimmering as I looked at it, the blue of her eyes dancing on her white cheeks.

“ ‘Drink,’ she whispered, drawing nearer. ‘Drink.’ And she held the soft, tender flesh of the wrist towards me. ‘No, I know what to do; haven’t I done it in the past?’ I said to her. It was she who bolted the window tight, latched the heavy door. I remember kneeling by the small grate and feeling the ancient paneling. It was rotten behind the varnished surface, and it gave under my fingers. Suddenly I saw my fist go through it and felt the sharp jab of splinter in my wrist. And then I remember feeling in the dark and catching hold of something warm and pulsing. A rush of cold, damp air hit my face and I saw a darkness rising about me, cool and damp as if this air were a silent water that seeped through the broken wall and filled the room. The room was gone. I was drinking from a never-ending stream of warm blood that flowed down my throat and through my pulsing heart and through my veins, so that my skin warmed against this cool, dark water. And now the pulse of the blood I drank slackened, and all my body cried out for it not to slacken, my heart pounding, trying to make that heart pound with it. I felt myself rising, as if I were floating in the darkness, and then the darkness, like the heartbeat, began to fade. Something glimmered in my swoon; it shivered ever so slightly with the pounding of feet on the stairs, on the floorboards, the rolling of wheels and horses’ hooves on the earth, and it gave off a tinkling sound as it shivered. It had a small wooden frame around it, and in that frame there emerged, through the glimmer, the figure of a man. He was familiar. I knew his long, slender build, his black, wavy hair. Then I saw that his green eyes were gazing at me. And in his teeth, in his teeth, he was clutching something huge and soft and brown, which he pressed tightly with both his hands. It was a rat. A great loathsome brown rat he held, its feet poised, its mouth agape, its great curved tail frozen in the air. Crying out, he threw it down and stared aghast, blood flowing from his open mouth.

“A searing light hit my eyes. I struggled to open them against it, and the entire room was glowing. Claudia was right in front of me. She was not a tiny child, but someone much larger who drew me forward towards her with both hands. She was on her knees, and my arms encircled her waist. Then darkness descended, and I had her folded against me. The lock slid into place. Numbness came over my limbs, and then the paralysis of oblivion.”

“And that was how it was throughout Transylvania and Hungary and Bulgaria, and through all those countries where the peasants know that the living dead walk, and the legends of the vampires abound. In every village where we did encounter the vampire, it was the same.”

“A mindless corpse?” the boy asked.

“Always,” said the vampire. “When we found these creatures at all. I remember a handful at most. Sometimes we only watched them from a distance, all too familiar with their wagging, bovine heads, their haggard shoulders, their rotted, ragged clothing. In one hamlet it was a woman, only dead for perhaps a few months; the villagers had glimpsed her and knew her by name. It was she who gave us the only hope we were to experience after the monster in Transylvania, and that hope came to nothing. She fled from us through the forest and we ran after her, reaching out for her long, black hair. Her white burial gown was soaked with dried blood, her fingers caked with the dirt of the grave. And her eyes… they were mindless, two pools that reflected the moon. No secrets, no truths, only despair.”

“But what were these creatures? Why were they like this?” asked the boy, his lips grimacing with disgust. “I don’t understand. How could they be so different from you and Claudia, yet exist?”

“I had my theories. So did Claudia. But the main thing which I had then was despair. And in despair the recurring fear that we had killed the only other vampire like us, Lestat. Yet it seemed unthinkable. Had he possessed the wisdom of a sorcerer, the powers of a witch… I might have come to understand that he had somehow managed to wrest a conscious life from the same forces that governed these monsters. But he was only Lestat, as I’ve described him to you: devoid of mystery, finally, his limits as familiar to me in those months in eastern Europe as his charms. I wanted to forget him, and yet it seemed I thought of him always. It was as if the empty nights were made for thinking of him. And sometimes I found myself so vividly aware of him it was as if he had only just left the room and the ring of his voice were still there. And somehow there was a disturbing comfort in that, and, despite myself, I’d envision his face — not as it had been the last night in the fire, but on other nights, that last evening he spent with us at home, his hand playing idly with the keys of the spinet, his head tilted to one side. A sickness rose in me more wretched than anguish when I saw what my dreams were doing. I wanted him alive! In the dark nights of eastern Europe, Lestat was the only vampire I’d found.

“But Claudia’s waking thoughts were of afar more practical nature. Over and over, she had me recount that night in the hotel in New Orleans when she’d become a vampire, and over and over she searched the process for some clue to why these things we met in the country graveyards had no mind. What if, after Lestat’s infusion of blood, she’d been put in a grave, closed up in it until the preternatural drive for blood caused her to break the stone door of the vault that held her, what then would her mind have been, starved, as it were, to the breaking point? Her body might have saved itself when no mind remained. And through the world she would have blundered, ravaging where she could, as we saw these creatures do. That was how she explained them. But what had fathered them, how had they begun? That was what she couldn’t explain and what gave her hope of discovery when I, from sheer exhaustion, had none. ‘They spawn their own kind, it’s obvious, but where does it begin?’ she asked. And then, somewhere near the outskirts of Vienna, she put the question to me which had never before passed her lips. Why could I not do what Lestat had done with both of us? Why could I not make another vampire? I don’t know why at first I didn’t even understand her, except that in loathing what I was with every impulse in me I had a particular fear of that question, which was almost worse than any other. You see, I didn’t understand something strong in myself. Loneliness had caused me to think on that very possibility years before, when I had fallen under the spell of Babette Freniere. But I held it locked inside of me like an unclean passion. I shunned mortal life after her. I killed strangers. And the Englishman Morgan, because I knew him, was as safe from my fatal embrace as Babette had been. They both caused me too much pain. Death I couldn’t think of giving them. Life in death — it was monstrous. I turned away from Claudia. I wouldn’t answer her. But angry as she was, wretched as was her impatience, she could not stand this turning away. And she drew near to me, comforting me with her hands and her eyes as if she were my loving daughter.

“ ‘Don’t think on it, Louis,’ she said later, when we were comfortably situated in a small suburban hotel. I was standing at the window, looking at the distant glow of Vienna, so eager for that city, its civilization, its sheer size. The night was clear and the haze of the city was on the sky. ‘Let me put your conscience at ease, though I’ll never know precisely what it is,’ she said into my ear, her hand stroking my hair.

“ ‘Do that, Claudia,’ I answered her. ‘Put it at ease. Tell me that you’ll never speak to me of making vampires again.’

“ ‘I want no orphans such as ourselves!’ she said, all too quickly. My words annoyed her. My feeling annoyed her. ‘I want answers, knowledge,’ she said. ‘But tell me, Louis, what makes you so certain that you’ve never done this without your knowing it?’

“Again there was that deliberate obtuseness in me. I must look at her as if I didn’t know the meaning of her words. I wanted her to be silent and to be near me, and for us to be in Vienna. I drew her hair back and let my fingertips touch her long lashes and looked away at the light.

“ ‘After all, what does it take to make those creatures?’ she went on. ‘Those vagabond monsters? How many drops of your blood intermingled with a man’s blood… and what kind of heart to survive that first attack?’

“I could feel her watching my face, and I stood there, my arms folded, my back to the side of the window, looking out.

“ ‘That pale-faced Emily, that miserable Englishman…’ she said, oblivious to the flicker of pain in my face. ‘Their hearts were nothing, and it was the fear of death as much as the drawing of blood that killed them. The idea killed them. But what of the hearts that survive? Are you sure you haven’t fathered a league of monsters who, from time to time, struggled vainly and instinctively to follow in your footsteps? What was their life span; these orphans you left behind you-a day there, a week here, before the sun burnt them to ashes or some mortal victim cut them down?’

“ ‘Stop it,’ I begged her. ‘If you knew how completely I envision everything you describe, you would not describe it. I tell you it’s never happened! Lestat drained me to the point of death to make me a vampire. And gave back all that blood mingled with his own. That is how it was done!’

“She looked away from me, and then it seemed she was looking down at her hands. I think I heard her sigh, but I wasn’t certain. And then her eyes moved over me, slowly, up and down, before they finally met mine. Then it seemed she smiled. ‘Don’t be frightened of my fancy,’ she said softly. ‘After all, the final decision will always rest with you. Is that not so?’

“ ‘I don’t understand,’ I said. And a cold laughter erupted from her as she turned away.

“ ‘Can you picture it?’ she said, so softly I scarcely heard. ‘A coven of children? That is all I could provide…’

“ ‘Claudia,’ I murmured.

“ ‘Rest easy,’ she said abruptly, her voice still low. ‘I tell you that as much as I hated Lestat…’ She stopped.

“ ‘Yes…’ I whispered. ‘Yes…’

“ ‘As much as I hated him, with him we were… complete.’ She looked at me, her eyelids quivering, as if the slight rise in her voice had disturbed her even as it had disturbed me.

“ ‘No, only you were complete…’ I said to her. ‘Because there were two of us, one on either side of you, from the beginning.’

“I thought I saw her smile then, but I was not certain. She bowed her head, but I could see her eyes moving beneath the lashes, back and forth, back and forth. Then she said, ‘The two of you at my side. Do you picture that as you say it, as you picture everything else?’

“One night, long gone by, was as material to me as if I were in it still, but I didn’t tell her. She was desperate in that night, running away from Lestat, who had urged her to kill a woman in the street from whom she’d backed off, clearly alarmed. I was sure the woman had resembled her mother. Finally she’d escaped us entirely, but I’d found her in the armoire, beneath the jackets and coats, clinging to her doll. And, carrying her to her crib, I sat beside her and sang to her, and she stared at me as she clung to that doll, as if trying blindly and mysteriously to calm a pain she herself did not begin to understand. Can you picture it, this splendid domesticity, dim lamps, the vampire father singing to the vampire daughter? Only the doll had a human face, only the doll.

“ ‘But we must get away from here!’ said the present Claudia suddenly, as though the thought had just taken shape in her mind with a special urgency. She had her hand to her ear, as if clutching it against some awful sound. ‘From the roads behind us, from what I see in your eyes now, because I give voice to thoughts which are nothing more to me than plain considerations…’

“ ‘Forgive me,’ I said as gently as I could, withdrawing slowly from that long-ago room, that ruffled crib, that frightened monster child and monster voice. And Lestat, where was Lestat? A match striking in the other room, a shadow leaping suddenly into life, as light and dark come alive where there was only darkness.

“ ‘No, you forgive me…’ she was saying to me now, in this little hotel room near the first capital of western Europe. ‘No, we forgive each other. But we don’t forgive him; and, without him, you see what things are between us:

“ ‘Only now because we are tired, and things are dreary…’ I said to her and to myself, because there was no one else in the world to whom I could speak.

“ ‘Ah, yes; and that is what must end. I tell you, I begin to understand that we have done it all wrong from the start. We must bypass Vienna. We need our language, our people. I want to go directly now to Paris.’ ”