He freed the horses, allowing them to run off and figured he would just let the coach sit right here, since he did not plan on ever returning to Transylvania. He joined Voivode in the station, and they quickly bought their tickets and found their way to their compartment on the train.
“Our room will be on the west side once the train turns to the north,” David said as he closed the door. “We should be able to leave the blinds open right up to sunrise.”
“David,” Voivode said hesitantly. David paused at looked at Voivode wondering what could be on his mind. “I saw the photograph.”
“The what?” David asked innocently.
“When you paid for the tickets,” Voivode explained. “The photograph you took of Harker’s fiancée.”
David felt like a child caught in a lie. He nodded slowly and took out the photograph. “I admit it,” he said.
“Why?” Voivode asked.
“Because,” David started, wondering how mad this would sound. “Call it a momentary lapse in judgment.”
“Why would you have such a lapse to keep a photograph that doesn’t belong to you of someone you don’t know?” Voivode asked.
“You remember what I told you of Beth Carpenter?” David asked.
“Of course,” Voivode said. “She was important to you.”
“Harker’s fiancée bears a striking, no, an impossible resemblance to her,” David explained. “I confess that part of me finds a measure of comfort in the familiarity of her face.”
“David, your obsession over Beth caused many things to happen in your past, and even to the entire Fempiror race,” Voivode said. “Do not let this same level of foolishness invade your sanity over this. This woman is certainly not Beth.”
“I know this,” David said. Of course he knew this. “While I admit to initially taking this out of selfishness, it will serve us as we attempt to find her.”
“And why would we do this?” Voivode asked.
“Because I feel like we should tell her that her fiancée was lost in Transylvania,” David said sadly. “Otherwise, how long will she wait in anticipation of his return? He rarely wrote to her, and so she only knows that he made it safely and was engaged in his work there. He expected a short trip which turned into much longer. She should know from us what happened to him for only we can tell it accurately and let her know that she should mourn.”
“We cannot be certain that he died,” Voivode noted. “After all, he climbed out his window, and may well have escaped into the forest under the cover of the rain.”
“And I pray that is the outcome,” David said. “But we must also acknowledge that he does not know the area, and he was quite delirious.”
“True,” Voivode said, “but given this woman’s appearance, I believe you should think twice before going to see her.”
“I understand,” David said, “but I think telling her would be the right thing to do.”
“Well,” Voivode said, “we have plenty of time to discuss this and many other things for we have a long road ahead of us.”
David agreed as the train set itself into motion, and they left Transylvania, Poenari, and the Mutations far behind them.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
John Seward had continued his watch on Renfield since the discussion over the flies, and during that time, the insects had not been a problem since Renfield seemed to be able to keep them under control. He had passed by Renfield’s room on several occasions, but each time, he was unable to garner any kind of idea as to what Renfield was doing with his creature collection, nor what his eventual goal might be.
He eventually learned a little of the point of the flies when Renfield supplanted his fly collection for spiders, but some of these spiders were getting too adventurous for Seward’s taste. After some of the other inmates complained that Renfield’s spiders were coming into their rooms, he finally decided that it was time for another conversation with the man.
He walked to Renfield’s room and looked in through the little window to see where he rested, and as usual, Renfield was near his small, outside window working with his spiders. Seward nodded to an orderly who opened the door, and then he gestured to a second orderly to wait outside the door as well before he entered.
Renfield looked upon Seward at his entry and smiled.
“My dear doctor,” Renfield said pleasantly, “to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit.”
“I’ve come about the spiders, Richard,” Seward explained.
“What of them?” Renfield asked. “They are no harm to anyone.”
“You are not taking care of them,” Seward explained. “Some of our other residents have met spiders that have escaped.”
“Are you certain those encounters are a result of my spiders,” Renfield asked, “or are they simply other spiders that entered through other means. Seems to me a little unfair to assume that any spiders that might inhabit this esteemed institution would be generated from a single source, don’t you think?”
Seward stared at Renfield, unable to argue the point, but not wishing to validate it either. He glanced at the bed and saw a notebook with a variety of symbols drawn over both open pages. They did not appear to be the random scribbling of a madman, but something ordered, as if he were working something out. The book was opened about a third of the way through, and based on the state of the first part of the notebook, he could tell that the visible page of figures was not the first to endure Renfield’s pencil.
The pictures appeared to deal with the spiders and flies of recent memory, but they also showed some images that resembled birds, cats, and dogs. He wondered if this was Renfield’s eventual hope for his collection.
“What are these about then?” Seward asked, indicating the book. Renfield saw the direction of Seward’s gaze, and snatched the notebook from his bed.
“Those are not for your eyes,” Renfield said with a touch of embarrassment. “Merely musings of mine.”
“Perhaps they might help me understand you,” Seward suggested. “Can you tell me about them?”
“It is life, good doctor,” Renfield explained. “Only that. Life is a circle, you know. It comes and goes. We live and die. The small are food for the large. And the large feed the small in their waste. As the spider hunts the fly, so also does the spider have its predators.” Renfield stopped speaking as he looked at his collection of a dozen or so spiders littering his window and wall with their webs, and again, Seward wondered what the point was.
A fly buzzed in the room, and Renfield’s eyes locked on it. With a display of incredible dexterity, Renfield reached out and snatched the fly out of the air. He looked at it for a moment before he put it in his mouth, ate it and smiled. Seward could not disguise his disgust at the move, and Renfield did not miss it.
“They are wholesome, I assure you,” Renfield said. “They give me life, and while the life they give is strong, it is not enough. I need something more substantial to eat.”
“We provide food for you,” Seward began.
“It is not the right kind of food,” Renfield interrupted. “I need something else. I am always hungry, and the slop you serve does not provide the necessary nourishment.”
“What do you think you need?”
“I need meat.”
Seward looked unconvinced that the man required the ingestion of any kind of meat since the food they provided always afforded the inmates adequate sustenance. He believed Renfield was going to ask for prime cuts of steak, fish, or something of considerable expense.
“Don’t misunderstand me, doctor,” Renfield said before Seward could consider it further. “I am not asking for anything special. It doesn’t have to be good meat or anything or even cooked, really. In fact, I would take it raw. I would prefer it raw. Even what the butcher might normally throw out that might have landed on the floor. The blood soaked bits in his garbage. Something. Anything.”
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” Seward said and turned to leave. He was surprised
to feel Renfield’s hand on his shoulder. He was still impossibly cold, and his grip felt like an iron vise.
“Please,” he breathed. Seward walked out of his cell, and Renfield gave no indication that he would use his considerable strength to prevent it. He glanced back as the orderly closed the door behind him, and more than anything, Renfield appeared profoundly sad.
“Keep an eye on him for me,” Seward said. “Especially what he does with his spider collection.”
The orderly nodded, and Seward made his way through his facility looking in on the other patients to see how the rest of them fared. Yet, the entire time, his mind stayed on the most unusual case he had ever seen. What in this man’s life had led to this sort of end? He could not imagine.
* * * * * * * * * *
Karian had been left with no choice in the quest to find David and Voivode but to empty a space in one of their crates and crawl inside. He made himself as comfortable as he could, knowing that he would be in for a long and potentially bumpy ride. He tried to discern what he could from the men who loaded the crates onto the wagons and then onto a train, but no word of the eventual destination was given other than Varna, which seemed an unlikely end point for David and Voivode since it was so close.
The train journey to Varna felt like an eternity, and more than once during their trip, he decided to creep out of his box to feed on whomever he could find before hiding again. He was careful not to kill anyone, however, only taking what he needed to survive. It was a practice he had perfected over many years of being forced to conceal himself. Yes, the attack might be investigated, but as long as the person survived, little credence was given to the report. Death would always cause problems.
He slept as much as he could primarily to stave off the boredom of being trapped in a box, but after about a day and a half of train travel, he knew when he was being carried from the train to another method of transportation. One of the men remarked about the weight of his particular box, but they did not open it to assuage their curiosity and eventually placed it with the others. Again, he was alone.
He could feel that wherever he had come to was a bit unstable, and while part of him knew how he was being shipped, he did not wish to think about it. After some time, he could tell that they were in motion, but it was both smooth and unsteady. He had to verify his fears.
He lifted the crate’s lid to peep into the area where the boxes were stored, and he found himself on the floor in the corner of a large room. There was no one else around, so he exited his tiny abode to see where he had ended up. He found a flight of stairs and climbed past two floors until he reached an outside door. He opened it slightly to confirm his location.
Voivode had decided to ship his belongings via boat, and as part of those belongings, Karian was now adrift in open water. He could see the port at Varna some distance behind them, and soon, they would be traveling through the Mediterranean far from land and the hope of any escape.
He knew why they had done it: to prevent this scenario. Mutations cannot handle water, and so by sending their belongings by boat, they would prevent Mutations from following. Or at least most of them. Karian was no ordinary Mutation. Over the course of his five hundred years, he had seen his share of ships and could avoid getting wet if he desired as long as the voyage concluded without any unexpected problems.
He descended below decks again to see what he could work out about the crew. The cargo deck was below the crew deck, so he could see that plenty of the bunks were occupied which would give him more than enough sustenance during the course of the journey. In addition, if he only fed on them little by little as they slept, it would allow him to maintain a constant blood supply to last him until they arrived.
He had to admit, however, that part of him was frightened. Getting soaked to the skin was normal for a sea voyage, so he had to accept the possibility that he might not live through this. If he did, it would merely be one more thing he would kill David for.
The following night, Karian decided to make his first move. He wanted to ensure that the sailors on this voyage had settled in after a night of peace before he did anything. He had spent the day in his crate though he did not have to worry about staying out of sight since no one ever came down to the cargo hold.
He crept out of the crate and moved to the stairs leading to the bunk area. He peeked over the edge of the deck and saw the majority of the bunks occupied. At this time of night, most of the men slept with only a skeleton crew on deck which meant that while Karian had an ample selection, he also had to be cautious since that many men in one location could overwhelm him quickly if he were caught. His biggest asset would be his strength with which he could easily pin his victim of choice to his bunk while keeping one hand over the victim’s mouth.
With the practiced stealth of a cat, Karian crawled out of the cargo hold and moved to one of the bunks by the wall where a young man who was most likely on one of his earliest voyages slept soundly. Karian kept his eyes and ears peeled for any movement or sound that would indicate that someone saw him. Feeling that the coast was clear, he clapped his hand over the young man’s mouth and placed his other hand under the bunk to hold him still.
The man’s eyes shot open, and Karian whispered to him, “Make not a sound, and you will live.” The man did not move and also did not make any noise at all as Karian punctured the man’s neck with his teeth.
Karian felt the man go limp as he drank, but he was careful not to drink too deeply or the man would die. He stopped after a minute or so and moved the man’s shirt collar up over the wound to absorb the blood, which would stop on its own shortly. In the morning, the young man might wonder if it were a dream, and there might even be superstitious talk, but he suspected little would come of it. Of course, he also knew that if this voyage lasted too long, and he was forced to do this frequently, then the situation may well change. Until then, this would be his practice.
Karian overheard a few things here and there over the next couple of days related to the young man from whom he had drunk. Most of the men were convinced he had done it to himself in his sleep or to get attention for it seemed that he was new to the shipping business, and as such, he received a lot of grief from the other men. Karian wondered how this dynamic might change if he were to attack one of the grizzled older ones.
Three days after the first attack, Karian crawled through the bunk room again and selected a different crewman. This one was considerably older, but in good health, so he would be able to withstand a little blood loss. He looked across the darkened room for any sign of movement, but the room was calm and peaceful.
He attacked in exactly the same way as the first by holding the man still and warning him of death before sinking his teeth in. Unlike the first one, the older man did not pass out, but he also did not make a sound. Rather, his breathing quickened in fear as Karian drank from him. When Karian finished, he moved quickly through the room to the cargo hold before the man could come to his senses to see him.
He decided to wait another three days before showing himself again, and this time, he wanted to see what was happening on the main deck before setting himself into his feeding. He recalled the night after his last attack, hardly anyone slept and there was constant chatter amongst the crew. The talk was less the second night, and now, as he made his way past the bunk room, it was back to the peaceful level that it had been on the previous nights.
He climbed on deck while remaining close to the door and looked out over the dark sea. The crew had mentioned that they were passing Cape Matapan, which he knew was at the southern end of Greece in the Mediterranean, but looking out over the water, he could see no land at all. The ship lazily carried on its way, the wind filling its sails.
He turned to the sound of voices at the wheel of the ship above him, but they were speaking quietly, and Karian could not make out what they were saying. He heard the captain’s cabin door open, and he hid to listen to their discussion.
“What’s with you lot then?
” the captain bellowed as he walked up the stairs to them. “Whispering away up here like a couple of old ninnies.” The captain was a man easily in his forties or fifties, but dressed plainly as most of the men were in simple trousers, shirt, and waistcoat. His voice was deep and carried easily across the length of the ship when he spoke.
“It’s just that there been some talk, you see, of spirits,” a crewman in his thirties explained.
“Spirits?” the captain asked skeptically.
“We’ve not seen him, but he walks here and there attacking the crew,” the crewman continued.
“Thank you, crewman,” the captain said. “Attend to your watch.” The crewman nodded and went below. The captain took up his place beside the first mate, a man probably in his forties as well and easily as grizzled as the captain, who held his place at the wheel.
“What’s all this about spirits?” the captain asked the first mate.
“Superstitious rubbish, sir,” the first mate explained. “All but impossible to break them of it, I’m afraid.”
“We’ve only just hit our stride out here,” the captain said. “Are we to endure this nonsense all the way to England?”
“I’ll have a word, sir,” the first mate assured him.
“You’d best do,” the captain insisted. “I need the crew in top shape for the entire trip, not jumping at shadows only a few days out.”
Karian decided this was a good moment to bow out in case the first mate made his way below decks. England was a name he had heard before, but he had never been there. Could that be the destination of David and Voivode? It did not make any difference at this point since he was trapped on the ship, but if his memory served, he did know that England was an island nation, which would certainly go a long way to explaining why they might have chosen it as a destination.
He reached the bottom of the steps from the main deck, but as soon as he set a foot on next deck, he saw the crewman he had seen above as the night watchman walking toward him. The man looked up and locked eyes with Karian for only a second before the man walked toward him with a “hey.” Karian dipped around the next corner and jumped to the ceiling where he clung as close to the deck above as possible.
The Elixir Page 13
