The vampire sprang, and she braced herself for the impact, but at the last moment Prendick stepped between them. What was he doing?
He took the full impact of the spring, falling back onto the floor. The vampire crouched over him, slavering. Then, it bared its fangs and bit down.
What was that high, shrill noise? It must be the whistle! She put her hands over her ears and fell to her knees, then crawled over to Prendick as best she could. The vampire who had attacked him was even more affected than she. He had curled into a ball like an animal protecting itself, with his hands wrapped around his head. Beside him was Prendick, lying on the ground. Was he—yes, he was still alive. Ignoring the whistle as best she could, she knelt beside him, examining the bloody face, the disaster that was his neck. How bad were his injuries? She would have to wipe the blood away before she could tell. He looked up at her and smiled, the way he had on the island when he had first told her that he loved her. “Catherine,” he said, reaching for her face. For a moment, he touched her cheek. She let him, although it distracted her from what was more important, assessing how badly he was hurt. Then his hand dropped, and he was still. He looked up at the ceiling with eyes that would never look at her, or anything else, again.
“Catherine, are you all right?” It was Justine, staring down at her, the whistle in her hand.
Catherine looked up. She could feel tears on her face. Damn Moreau and his island! Pumas didn’t cry. “He’s dead,” she said. “He tried to protect me. The idiot! Such a damn idiot! Such a goddamn . . . Didn’t he know I’m so much stronger than he is? Why didn’t he just let me fight?” She looked down again and stroked his hair, getting blood on her fingers. Then, she closed his staring eyes. “Moreau made me, but Edward taught me to be human.” She was surrounded by chaos—she could still hear the battle around her, although it seemed to be happening someplace else, a place as distant as Moreau’s island. She picked up the body of Edward Prendick and cradled it as though it were a child.
Beside her, the vampire that had curled into a ball, the one who had killed Prendick, uncurled himself. He stood and seemed to look around for the source of the terrible noise that had incapacitated him. Seeing nothing, he grinned and crouched, as though prepared once again to attack.
Catherine looked up at Justine and said, “This one is mine.”
Suddenly, with a look of anguished astonishment, he crumpled to the ground. Behind him stood Ayesha. Her hand was raised, but there was no weapon in it. What had she done? She looked down at Catherine as though assessing the situation, then turned and moved back toward the center of the room. There was still one vampire menacing the Japanese woman. Was that it? Surely there had been more! Justine and Carmilla could not have dealt with all those vampires so quickly! Carmilla was close to the Japanese woman, but could not help her—she too had been affected by the whistle and was sitting on one of the chairs with her head in her hands. Ayesha walked over to the vampire, raised her arm, and held her hand a few inches from his head. Nothing happened. Then, the vampire raised his hands to his head, screamed in pain, and crumped to the ground. He did not get up again. Ayesha bowed to the Japanese woman, hands together palm to palm, and led her toward the door.
Catherine stared up at Justine in astonishment. “What the hell was that?”
Justine knelt by the body of the vampire who had killed Edward Prendick. “There is no wound on him. But look, there are two red marks on either side of his temples. It is as though a current has passed through him, as though he has been burned by electricity.”
“Catherine!” It was Carmilla, standing just behind Justine, hands still at her temples and blood down her shirtfront, soaking into her jacket and waistcoat. “Is that Prendick? Is there anything we can do?
“He is beyond help, Countess.”
Catherine turned to see the gray-haired woman who had spoken before Ayesha, standing in front of the dais. “I am Frau Gottleib. Ayesha would like to speak with you.” She looked down at Edward Prendick. “I’m very sorry for your loss. I assure you that we shall treat Mr. Prendick’s remains with the utmost respect. Now, if you would all follow me to the library? Madam President would like to meet you.”
CHAPTER XXVI
Madam President
The library was on the second floor. It was a large room with shelves on every wall, filled with what looked like scientific books and journals, all the way up to the ceiling. The topmost ones could only be reached by a rolling ladder.
Justine was startled to see that Mary and the others were already there. Mary was standing in front of an enormous oak table. Beatrice and Laura were sitting at the table with Lucinda, who was quietly sobbing into her hands. Laura had her arm around Lucinda. Mina and Dracula were talking quietly in one corner, near the ladder.
“Oh, thank goodness,” said Mary. “We were so worried about you!”
“What happened?” asked Justine. Carmilla went over to Laura and murmured something—probably asking if she was all right. Catherine sat down on one of the chairs and stared at her hands, which were still spattered with blood. Beatrice leaned over and handed her a handkerchief.
“I don’t quite know,” said Mary. “All hell broke loose, and then a woman—older, with white hair and spectacles—told us to follow her and led us here. Mina, Lucinda, and I have been waiting here since. And then Count Dracula, Beatrice, and Laura came with Professor Holly, who went off again without giving any explanations. What’s going on out there—and where is Diana?”
“Have you perhaps misplaced one of these?”
It was Ayesha. She must have entered right behind them. She was holding Diana by the collar. Diana was twisting and turning, evidently trying to kick the president of the Alchemical Society in the shins.
“Diana! Stop that at once!” said Mary.
Diana scowled, but when Ayesha released her collar, she ran to join the rest of them by the table. She plopped herself down on a chair and started kicking its legs.
Ayesha examined them as though they were particularly interesting insects, of a species she had never seen before.
A woman entered behind her. She was older, white-haired, wearing a pair of strong spectacles. She smiled at them like a kindly grandmother, as though she were about to hand out biscuits and good advice. Then she turned to Ayesha and said, in a well-bred English voice, “Madam President, the situation has been contained. We have seventeen wounded and three dead, including Mr. Prendick. Professor Van Helsing is locked in one of the basement storage rooms, but Dr. Seward managed to escape. Professor Vámbéry disavows any knowledge of today’s events—he assisted Mr. Vincey in the capture of Van Helsing, and is currently being treated for a nasty bite.”
“How very like Arminius. Van Helsing was a fool to depend on his loyalty.” Ayesha turned back to them. “How is your wound, Countess?”
Carmilla unbuttoned her shirt collar and looked at her chest. “Already healing, Madam President.”
“Good.” Ayesha looked at each of them, comprehensively and dispassionately. “I have no time to spare for you today. I have wounded members to care for, and order to restore to this conference. The first paper sessions begin in half an hour. Miss Murray—” She turned to Mina. “It is a great pleasure to meet an agent of the Subcommittee for Bibliographic Citation Format. I am also pleased to meet such an interesting group of young women. Miss Jekyll, Miss Moreau, Miss Rappaccini, Miss Frankenstein, and, of course, Miss Hyde, if you will await me tomorrow at 3:00 p.m. in Count Dracula’s house, I will speak with you further. You will not mind, I am sure, Vlad, if I avail myself of your hospitality. Lady Crowe will show all of you out.”
She turned, and as gracefully as a cobra or a cat, she walked out of the room.
“What in the world—,” said Mina. Which was, more or less, what they were all thinking. They stared at each other in astonishment.
“If you will follow me,” said Lady Crowe. “And may I say that it’s lovely to see you again, Mary, Justine, and Catherine? And
of course little Diana?”
They all stared at her, startled. Then, “Madame Corbeau!” said Mary at the same time as Catherine exclaimed, “Frau Krähe!” Mary recognized her as the kindly grandmother from the train to Paris, Catherine as Sasha’s childhood nurse from the train to Vienna. She was both and neither.
“Bien sûr,” said Lady Crowe, smiling her grandmotherly smile. “Natürlich. However, much as I would love to chat with you again, we are busy today. As Madam President said, she will meet with you tomorrow. In the meantime, I have ordered for a basket to be packed, containing sandwiches from our luncheon and some excellent wine. You must be tired and hungry. The park is a popular place for a picnic, or you could go up to the castle district this afternoon. I think you’ve earned yourselves a rest, and perhaps some sightseeing.”
They all stared at her. They had just fought vampires and incurred wounds, both internal and external. And she expected them to go on a picnic?
“Come on,” said Mina, looking at Lady Crowe as though she had no idea what else to say. “Let’s get out of this place.”
They followed her out of the library, down the steps, and into the bright light of a Budapest morning, tired and uncertain about what they had accomplished. But the sun shone down on the Danube, and in the park, the birds were singing.
JUSTINE: Is it not strange how such things can happen—momentous things, things that seem to change the world itself, and yet they do not. The river flows, the sun shines, the birds sing. Nature is indifferent to man, which is perhaps why we can find in it a source of healing. We may be wounded, but it is not—despite our weariness, it renews itself continually. I find that thought comforting.
DIANA: I probably would too, if I knew what the hell you were going on about!
JUSTINE: Come to the library. I shall read you some Wordsworth, who can explain it so much better than I can.
As they were finishing breakfast the next morning, Mina leaned over to Mary and said, “Would you like to go for a walk in the park before our meeting with Ayesha?”
“Yes, I’d like that,” said Mary. She looked around to see if any of the others might want to join them, but Mina said, “I meant just you. We haven’t really had a chance to talk since you got here, and I think it’s time.”
Anyway, all the others seemed occupied. Laura had asked Lucinda if she would like to go back to Styria and live at the schloss for a while, so she could learn how to be a proper vampire. Carmilla and Magda could teach her how to get the blood she needed, control her powers, and not accidentally kill people. Count Dracula was off doing whatever counts did on a Tuesday morning, which evidently included things like managing their estates and responding to complaints from tenant farmers. Catherine and Beatrice were talking about their circus act. A telegram had come that morning from Lorenzo:
CIRCUS ARRIVING WEDNESDAY CAN YOU PREPARE FOR THURSDAY EVENING SHOW THEY WANT THE POISONOUS GIRL
Catherine had thought of some ingenious new ways Beatrice could demonstrate her poisonousness. Justine was trying to persuade Diana that she should take the two puppies she had sneaked up in her pockets back to their mother in the stable. Later, Mary would have to once again patiently explain to her that no, they could not take any wolfdogs back with them to England. Hóvirág looked on inconsolably, having lost her very own human to these new distractions.
“All right,” she said. They hadn’t talked, not really, since Mina had told her about the Subcommittee for Bibliographic Citation Format, and so much had happened since then! She thought back to the events of the day before. It was all confused in her mind—standing with Lucinda at the front of the room, looking up at the dais where Ayesha stood listening to them, trying to get Lucinda out when the fighting began, being taken to the library by the woman who had called herself Madame Corbeau . . . She was still trying to understand exactly what had happened. It would be good to get out and walk around!
As they crossed Múseum utca and then walked to the entrance of the park that surrounded the museum, Mary was reminded of the walk she had taken, not long ago, with Irene Norton. But this was certainly not like the Belvedere! The museum was a large neoclassical building set within a small park of gravel paths between tall trees. Along the paths, there were patches of grass, scraggly bushes, and statues of what Mary assumed were famous people. It was a beautiful morning, cool and sunny. Mothers were out walking with their children, who were either in perambulators or running around, shouting just as children shouted in London, but in Hungarian of course. Young men who looked like bank clerks or university students sat on the park benches, next to shop girls and nursemaids.
“We should to go the museum sometime,” said Mina. “It houses artifacts from Hungary’s history, going back to the reign of King István, perhaps even farther—I haven’t been for a while. The funny thing about living in a place is, you never do the things you would if you visited! Mary, I’m sorry that your visit has been all intrigue and fighting and vampires.”
Mary looked at her—she was wearing a respectable but not particularly fashionable straw hat—and laughed. “You sound just like Miss Murray, my old governess. You must meet her sometime! I’m sure the two of you would get along. Mina, do you remember when we used to go to the British Museum?”
“Of course I remember. Come on, let’s walk around back. It’s a fairly short circuit.” Mina led the way, her boots crunching on the gravel. “You liked the Elgin marbles best, if I remember correctly. And all the red pottery, although some of the images were quite inappropriate for a young English miss. Once, you asked me whether there were any pots left in Greece, since the British had taken so many. I was sorry to leave, especially when you were still so young—far too young to take over the management of a household. And I was sorry to interrupt the education of such a bright mind. That’s so often what happens to girls—they are educated up to a point, and then they are called upon to take up household duties, to care for other children or aging parents. It’s a shame, really.”
“Well, hopefully I turned out all right,” said Mary, smiling although she was a little apprehensive about what Mina would say.
“My dear, you turned out splendidly, and very much as I thought you would.” Mina walked for a moment as though lost in thought.
A small boy in a brown suit almost crashed into them. “Gyere ide, Gyuri!” his mother shouted. At least Mary assumed she was his mother. Birds were calling overhead. Mary had no idea what sorts of birds they might be. Justine would probably know. She tended to know these things.
Then Mina said, “Mary, can you forgive me for the deception I practiced? I was younger then, and it did not strike me as wrong to deceive a child of seven, particularly when I had an important reason for doing so. After all, you would never know of it. Well, I’ve learned my lesson—learned many lessons over the years. The benefit of growing older is that you make different mistakes. If you can’t bring yourself to, I will understand, you know.”
They turned onto the path at the back of the museum and walked under the shade of tall linden trees. Mary thought for a moment about how to respond. “I was angry with you. I suppose I still am, and I’m not sure what to do with that anger. I’m not very good at anger, as you know. Right now, after everything that happened yesterday, I’m just grateful that we’re all alive! And I’m grateful for what you did, trying to help Lucinda—and all of us. Is Ayesha really going to call on us at Count Dracula’s house? Somehow, it’s hard to imagine. . . .”
“Her in Vlad’s reception room? It’s quite a grand reception room, far too grand for daily use, but you’re right, it’s difficult to imagine her in an ordinary setting. She belongs in an Egyptian temple, or perhaps a sublime landscape of some sort. How about the Alps? Where Lord Byron could write a poem about her . . .”
“Perfect!” Mary laughed, then grew serious. “What do you think she’ll do to Professor Van Helsing? And do you think she’ll agree to stop these experiments once and for all?”
“I don’t kno
w. Yesterday, did it seem to you . . .” Mina paused for a moment—they had walked all the way around the museum and were now on the other side. Then she said, as though startled, “The girl who sells lavender isn’t at her usual post. She’s been there every day for the past week.”
“Oh,” said Mary. “I didn’t notice. Perhaps she’s sold all her stock. But what were you going to say? About yesterday . . .”
Mina frowned and looked down at the ground. She kicked at the gravel with one foot. “Just that it seemed too easy. I know, three people died, including Edward Prendick, and more than a dozen were injured. But it could have been much worse. It could have been a real bloodbath. Instead, as soon as Beatrice and Laura subdued all of Van Helsing’s henchmen in the balcony, Professor Holly appeared to clean up. When Catherine, Justine, and Carmilla were in trouble below, Ayesha herself came to blast the vampires with her power—and wouldn’t I like to know how that works! I mean, does she need to touch them? I don’t think so. Does she need to be close to them? And what does she do, exactly? I suspect it’s like electricity, a sort of invisible lightning. At any rate, after Lucinda attacked Arminius and Leo Vincey pulled her off him, Lady Crowe came and led us to the library. It all seems rather—convenient. Almost rehearsed.”
Mary was not entirely sure what to say, except perhaps—“It worked. I mean, we’re here, and Van Helsing’s been captured, although Seward got away. And Lucinda’s herself again.”
“That’s the most important thing, of course,” said Mina. She was silent for a moment. Then, she said, “Mary, there’s a specific reason I asked you to come out today.” She reached into her purse and took out an envelope. “This came in the mail for you.”
A letter for Mary? “Is it from Mrs. Poole?” she asked, eagerly. It must be—who else would write to her at Mina’s address? Perhaps it would tell her that Mr. Holmes had returned—the mystery solved, the criminal apprehended and handed over to Lestrade.
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