The Mistress of Illusions

by Michael D. Resnick

  The four of them climbed the stairs while Raven positioned himself against a library wall, rested his outstretched arms on the shelves, and waited for them. They entered the room a moment later.

  “We meet again,” said Van Helsing gruffly.

  “You’re panting,” noted Raven. “Those are a lot of stairs for a used-up old man, especially one who has been traveling most of the day to get here. Sit down and relax.”

  Van Helsing seemed about to spit out a caustic reply, thought better of it, and seated himself on a leather chair.

  “Welcome back, Jonathan,” said Raven. “And this must be Mina.”

  He nodded a greeting to her. She glanced quickly at Harker, evidently saw some sign of approval, and nodded her greeting.

  “I hope you found the trip comfortable,” said Raven. “Except, of course, for the company.”

  “You could use pavement,” she replied.

  “That would just encourage visitors,” answered Raven. “And speaking of visitors, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

  “We have serious matters to discuss,” said Van Helsing.

  “You mean you haven’t come here to amuse me with the latest jokes you picked up in the local tavern?” said Raven, feeling rather pleased with himself until he saw Lisa frown and quickly shake her head when no one was watching her.

  Why the hell not? thought Raven. I’m not going to drink anyone’s lifeblood or kill anyone, but they don’t know that, so why not tease the old man and pretend to lust for the young lady and otherwise act the way they would expect a villain to act?

  “You seem to have some unhappy townspeople lining the road to your castle,” said Harker.

  “Unhappy is an understatement,” added Mina.

  Raven smiled. “Is it my fault that I have indoor plumbing and they don’t?”

  “That’s not what they seemed annoyed about,” said Harker. “I think it may have something to do with your diet.”

  “What would they know about my diet?” Raven shot back. “I never patronize the local restaurants.”

  “Enough of this foolishness!” growled Van Helsing. “You’re a vampire, and you’ve been feeding off the populace and unknowing visitors and travelers for years!”

  “Have you ever heard of the science of genetics?” asked Raven.

  “Of course.”

  “Neither of my parents, no one in my family, was a vampire,” said Raven. “How does that jibe with your knowledge of genetics and inheritance?”

  “It means you are every bit as much a genetic freak as the physical freak you appear to be,” said Van Helsing.

  “Let me ask you one more question, based on your supposed knowledge of vampires and vampirism,” said Raven.

  “Go ahead.”

  “Do you think that you and Harker together could subdue me in the next few minutes if it comes down to a physical battle?”

  “You know we could not,” said Van Helsing.

  “Good!” said Raven. “Renfield, bring our guests some wine or whatever else they may want.” Lisa headed off to what he assumed was the wine cellar, and he turned back to van Helsing. “I hope you’ve been enjoying our country. It still requires some civilizing and some landscaping and some governing, but it’s certainly more livable than some.”

  “It is littered with too many graves,” said Van Helsing.

  “I hope you’re not going to suggest that I am responsible for them all.”

  “Are you?”

  I wish to hell I knew. “Probably not,” said Raven.

  “What are your future plans?” asked Van Helsing. “I know that you’ve asked Mr. Harker here to find you a suitable dwelling in the British countryside.”

  “There’s more to see and do there,” answered Raven.

  “And drink?” asked Van Helsing.

  Lisa reentered the chamber just then.

  “Ah!” said Raven. “Speaking of drink, here come yours.”

  “You didn’t answer my question,” said Van Helsing.

  “You noticed,” said Raven. He walked over, took the tray from Lisa, and approached his three guests, allowing them to choose the bottle of wine they wanted, then poured each a glass and moved on to the next one.

  “None for yourself?” asked Harker, as he set the tray down on a table.

  “I don’t drink . . . wine,” said Raven. Damn! It’s almost worth going through all this shit to be able to utter that line!

  “You’re smiling, Count,” said Mina.

  “A happy thought,” he replied.

  “Of torture and bloodshed?” asked Van Helsing.

  “Only limited to people who annoy me,” answered Raven, feeling that he finally had control of the conversation.

  “Then we’d best get down to business,” said Harker.

  Raven resisted the urge to say “Shoot!” and merely stared at him.

  “A South American party is interested in purchasing an authentic castle in this country,” said Harker. “Since I assume you’ll soon be moving to England, I was wondering if you’d be interested in entering a transaction for this place?”

  “I don’t know if I’ll be staying in England,” said Raven. On the other hand, who knows how long I’ll stay in this identity? “But sure, I’d be happy to consider an offer.”

  “Including the surrounding area?” asked Harker.

  “If I legally own it.”

  “How about the rotting corpses inside the castle?” asked Van Helsing.

  Raven stared at him. “Were you always this unpleasant?”

  Van Helsing shook his head. “Only since I discovered that vampires really and truly walked the Earth.”

  I’d love to correct you and say that actually we fly across the Earth, but you’d probably believe me.

  Raven turned back to Harker. “Bring your offer in writing.”

  “Have you an attorney?”

  “Just bring it to me.”

  “Yes, Count.”

  “So much for my business with Mr. Harker,” said Raven. “Now, Mr. Van Helsing, what can I do for you, besides die a loud and agonizing death in front of you?”

  “Actually, that would be quite sufficient,” said Van Helsing, and Raven couldn’t resist a chuckle.

  “If I should feel it coming on anytime before you leave, which I trust will be soon now, I will certainly give you a few seconds’ warning.”

  Van Helsing returned his smile. “And people say that vampires aren’t thoughtful.”

  “Only the British side is thoughtful,” said Raven.

  “I’ve checked you out thoroughly,” said Van Helsing. “You don’t have any British blood.”

  “Well, there you have it,” replied Raven.

  They spoke, uncomfortably on the part of his visitors, and when Raven gave them no further encouragement to talk, they finally got to their feet and said their farewells, with Harker promising to return in a day or two with the proposed offer, and Van Helsing hinting that he would be back when he was finally prepared to make sure there was one less vampire walking the Earth.

  Lisa, in her Renfield identity, led them down the stairs and laboriously opened the massive door for them. Exhausted, she leaned against the huge portal, and as she did so, with her back to the door and facing the interior of the castle, three large men armed with spears and swords walked right in, took a brief look around, and began racing up the stone staircase.

  Lisa wanted to warn Raven, but she realized that her primary duty at the moment was to close the door before anyone else could sneak in, and she threw herself into the chore.

  Raven was standing alone in the now-empty chamber, studying the wine and wondering how it tasted. He picked up a bottle, held it to his lips, then made a face and put it back down.

  Great, he thought. I really am a vampire. I ho
pe this test ends before I get so hungry or thirsty that I have to down a pint of blood.

  “So there you are!” growled a voice from the doorway.

  Raven looked across the room and found himself facing the three burly men who’d entered the castle a moment earlier.

  “What can I do for you gentlemen?” he asked. “And I use the word advisedly.”

  “You can die!” bellowed the closest one.

  Raven smiled. “You’re too late.”

  The man cursed and charged, wielding his sword above his head.

  Raven backed up a few steps, realized that his foe was coming too fast, planted his feet, and prepared to meet the charge. He reached his right hand out for the swordsman’s wrist, though since he was outweighed by some sixty pounds of muscle he didn’t expect it to do much good—but to his surprise he had no trouble holding the arm aloft.

  I wonder just how strong a vampire is . . .

  He squeezed, the man screamed, and he could feel the wrist crumble into a dozen bone fragments beneath his viselike grip. He swung his other arm, connected with his opponent’s jaw, heard a loud crack, and saw the man’s body fly through the air and bounce off a brick wall.

  “Okay,” said Raven. “Who’s next?”

  The two remaining men exchanged troubled glances, and then charged him simultaneously. Raven took what he thought would be a quick step to the left. Instead it was a leap that carried him some twenty feet through the air.

  “Halt!” he shouted.

  The two men froze.

  “You’ve seen what I did to your foolhardy friend. You’ve been given a hint of what I can do against the pair of you. I offer you your lives, if you agree to leave the castle right now and never return.”

  The men frowned, stared at each other, and seemed torn by indecision.

  “Let me help you make up your minds,” said Raven. “I will count to ten. If you are still in the room when I reach ten, I will slay you more slowly and painfully than I hope you can imagine. The decision is yours.”

  Both had bolted out of the room and were racing down the stairs before he reached “Five.”

  Lisa entered the room a few seconds later. She saw the remains of the first swordsman and froze.

  “You did that?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Barehanded?”

  “Being a vampire has its advantages,” he replied with a smile.

  “Clearly,” she said.

  He walked to a window and stared down at the unhappy mass of peasants and warriors.

  “So did I pass the test?” he asked.

  18

  “With flying colors,” said a voice that was definitely not Lisa’s or her characterization of Renfield.

  Raven turned and looked at the source, and it was Rofocale, dressed in a distinctive red robe and standing beside his bed.

  “Where is—?”

  “Right here?” said Lisa, and he realized that she was standing just to his right, and that she looked like his Lisa again.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked Rofocale.

  “Better,” said Rofocale. “And you?”

  “Fine,” said Raven. “But then, nobody shot me.”

  “Waste of time,” said Rofocale contemptuously. “You can temporarily damage a demon, cause him great discomfort—but you cannot kill him.”

  Raven turned to Lisa. “Please tell me that Mistress of Illusions isn’t another name or term for demon.”

  She smiled and laid her hand on his. “It’s not, Eddie.”

  “It’s nice to be called Eddie again.”

  “Don’t get used to it,” said Rofocale.

  “Oh, shit!” muttered Raven. “Another test?”

  Rofocale nodded his massive head. “You’re not ready for the ultimate encounter yet. Trust me on this, Eddie Raven.”

  “I don’t suppose I have the freedom or authority to respectfully decline any more tests?”

  Rofocale smiled. “I like your attitude, Eddie. And no, that particular freedom is denied you.”

  Raven turned to Lisa. “And I don’t suppose you can overrule him?”

  “Why would I?” she answered. “We’re all on the same side, Eddie.”

  He frowned. “I don’t even know what side that is.”

  “You will soon enough,” said Rofocale. He frowned. “You know, I was just going out for my first meal in weeks since leaving the hospital, when I intuited that your vampiric adventure was over.” He paused. “It’s got to be three in the morning, or thereabouts, and I’m unacquainted with New York City. Why don’t you recommend a good all-night restaurant, or better still, come along and join me?”

  Raven frowned. “I thought you lived here.”

  “The apartment?” said Rofocale. “A mere convenience. I probably hadn’t used it five nights in the five years leading up to the incident at Mako’s shop.”

  Raven glanced quickly at Lisa, who nodded her assent.

  “Okay, we’ll join you,” he said. “But I’m going to want some answers before the meal’s over.”

  “Fair enough,” said Rofocale. “Now, where are we going?”

  “Depends on what you like to eat,” said Raven. “Screaming newborn babies perhaps?”

  “I assume that is your notion of a joke rather than a legitimate guess.”

  “Let’s say that I hope it is,” replied Raven. “But after the past few weeks, I’m not as certain as I wish I was.”

  “Human food is fine.”

  “Well, my favorite dish is veal parmesan, and I love pastitso with dolmades and saganaki, but there aren’t any good Italian or Greek joints around here that are open at three in the morning, so how’s about some steak and eggs?”

  “Fine. I can imbibe and digest just about anything.”

  “Okay,” said Raven. “Barnaby’s is an all-nighter, and it’s about three blocks from here.” He walked to the door, opened it for Lisa, followed her to the elevator, and kept the sliding door open for Rofocale.

  “You’re not even limping,” noted Raven. “You were in a pretty bad way the last few times I saw you.”

  “I should probably answer that clean living does it,” said Rofocale with an almost frightening smile. He turned to Lisa. “How did he do?”

  “He passed the tests,” she replied.

  “With creativity, or merely with strength and courage?”

  “With complete creativity,” said Lisa.

  “Good. More and more it looks like he is the Chosen One.”

  “Chosen One?” said Raven, frowning.

  “Just an expression,” said Rofocale. “Pay no attention to it.”

  “Your nose just grew six inches,” said Raven.

  Rofocale placed his hand on his nose and frowned. “What are you talking about, Eddie Raven?”

  “Never mind.”

  “Not so far,” she replied.

  “Cut it out,” said Raven.

  Lisa turned to him. “I don’t understand, Eddie.”

  “I’ve just put my life on the line in a bunch of crazed scenarios that most men couldn’t have survived for five minutes,” he said. “And you two are making it sound like I’ve made it through kindergarten or maybe first grade, and grad school still lies ahead.”

  “Actually,” said Rofocale, “that’s very well put, Eddie.”

  “Damn!” muttered Raven. “I knew you were going to say something like that.”

  “Don’t look so grim,” said the demon. “It should be a matter of great pride.”

  Raven merely glared at him and made no reply.

  They reached the restaurant, which had clearly been built close to a century ago and had gone through many face changes, seated themselves at a table that boasted four plates, four cups, and a coffeepot, and waited for a waiter to come by.


  Lisa filled Rofocale’s coffee cup, and was about to do the same for Raven when he held up his hand.

  “None for me,” he said. “I’ve lost my appetite.”

  She stared at him for a moment, then filled her own cup, added some cream, and took a sip.

  “It’s really quite good, Eddie.”

  “I’m sure it is.”

  “Well, we may as well discuss his next test,” said Rofocale, “before he gets so annoyed with his situation that he just gets up and walks out of here all alone.”

  “I wouldn’t do that,” said Raven. Then, after a few seconds’ consideration, added, “Probably.”

  “What do you think of horses, Eddie?”

  “I saw American Pharoah win the Belmont during his Triple Crown year,” answered Raven.

  “Not that kind of horse.”

  “What kind, then?”

  Rofocale seemed at a loss for an answer, and looked across the table at Lisa.

  “Cowboys’ horses,” she said. “Like Silver and Trigger, only the real thing.”

  “I suppose they’re okay,” said Raven. “Why?”

  “They’re going to be the primary form of transportation during your next test,” she said. “Remember any cowboys’ names from your reading?”

  “Sure,” said Raven. “Wyatt Earp, Doc Holliday, Billy the Kid, Will Bill Hickok, a few others.”

  “And any incident?” persisted Lisa.

  “The Gunfight at the O.K. Corral.”

  “Good,” said Rofocale. “We won’t be dropping him cold.”

  “We’ll be doing worse than that,” said Lisa seriously.

  “True,” agreed Rofocale.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” demanded Raven.

  “You’ll find out soon enough,” said Rofocale.

  “And I’ll try to find a way to join you,” said Lisa.

  “So I’m going to be a gunslinger in the Wild West,” said Raven. “Could be worse, I suppose.”

  “Not much,” said Lisa, her voice thick with sympathy.

  “Can you at least tell me where I’m going?”

  “Yes, Eddie,” she said.

  “Well?”

  “Tombstone.”