Authors: Kerstin Gier
“We have no time to
waste on formalities today. Have you a message for me from your Grand Master?” he asked, and Gideon handed him the sealed letter Mr. George had given us.
As the count broke the seal and read it, I looked briefly around the room. There were a desk, and several chairs, some of them upholstered. The open shelves around the room were full of books, scrolls, and stacks of paper, and a painting hung
over the mantelpiece, just as it did in the documents room in our time. But this one wasn’t the portrait of Count Saint-Germain. It was an attractive still life showing books, parchments, a quill pen, and an inkwell. Rakoczy, unasked, had dropped into a chair, and now he put his boots up on the desk. He held his drawn sword loosely in his hand, like a toy that he couldn’t bear to part with. His
weird, lifeless eyes passed over me, and he curled his lips contemptuously. If he remembered our last meeting at all, he obviously had no intention of apologizing for his behavior.
The count had finished reading the letter. He looked penetratingly at me, and then nodded. “
Ruby red, with G major, the magic of the raven, brings the Circle of Twelve home into safe haven.
How did you escape Lord
Alastair’s ruthless sword? Did he just imagine it all?”
“He did wound Gwyneth,” said Gideon, and I was surprised to hear how calm and friendly his voice sounded. “But it was only a harmless scratch—she was really lucky.”
“I am sorry that you both found yourselves in such a situation,” said the count. “I had promised you that no one would harm you, and as a rule I keep my promises. But my friend
Rakoczy here was also a little forgetful of his duties that evening, weren’t you, Miro? Causing me to note, yet again, that one can sometimes rely too much on other people. If the enchanting Lady Lavinia had not come to me, my First Secretary might have recovered from his faint and run for it … and Lord Alastair would have bled to death all by himself.”
“It was the enchanting Lady Lavinia who
gave us away in the first place,” I said tartly. “She—”
The count raised one hand. “I know all that, child. Alcott had plenty of opportunity to confess his sins.”
Rakoczy let out a hoarse laugh.
“And Alastair had a great deal to tell us, too, even if he became a little indistinct toward the end, am I not right, Miro?” The count smiled unpleasantly. “But we can discuss all that later. We are
short of time today.” He picked up the letter. “Now that Gwyneth’s true origin is explained, it ought not to be difficult to persuade her parents to donate a little of their blood to us. I hope you have followed all my instructions to the letter?”
Gideon nodded. His face was pale and tense, and he avoided looking at me. But so far everything was going as we’d foreseen. Roughly speaking, anyway.
“Operation Black Tourmaline and Sapphire takes place today,” he said. “If the clock on the wall there is telling the right time, then in a few minutes, I’ll be traveling back to the year 2011. And everything is prepared there for me to go and visit Lucy and Paul.”
“Exactly,” said the count, pleased. He took an envelope from his coat pocket and gave it to Gideon. “My outline of my plan is in here.
I don’t want any of my Guardians in the future even to think of interfering with your movements.”
He went over to the mantelpiece and looked thoughtfully into the fire on the hearth for a moment. His eyes were bright and sparkling above his aquiline nose, and suddenly the whole room seemed to be full of his commanding presence. He raised his arms. “This very day all the prophesies will be fulfilled.
This very day a remedy for all sickness and disease, a miracle such as has never been known before, will be granted to mankind,” he cried. He paused briefly, looking at us as if expecting applause. I thought for a split second of forcing out an admiring “Wow, that’s great!” but I didn’t think too highly of my acting abilities right now. Gideon, too, just looked at him in silence. And Rakoczy
actually had the nerve to let out a small belch at this solemn moment.
The count clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Well,” he added slowly, “I assume that tells you everything.” He came over to me and put his hand on my shoulder. It was all I could do not to shake it off the way I’d shaken off Tarantula. “Meanwhile, my lovely child, you and I will pass the time agreeably together, will we not?”
he said unctuously. “I am sure you will understand that you must keep me company here for a little longer than young Gideon.” I nodded and wondered whether the count wasn’t beginning to revise his idea of women. If he supposed I understood all that, then I couldn’t be as dim as he normally assumed, could I? However, he was already going on in his high-handed way. “After all, our young friend Gideon
must make Black Tourmaline and his Sapphire believe that their daughter will die if they don’t give him some of their blood there and then.” He laughed quietly and turned to Gideon. “You can dress it up a little if you like, tell them about Rakoczy’s taste for the blood of virgins and the old Transylvanian custom of tearing hearts out of living bodies. But I’m sure that won’t be necessary. If
I know that foolish young couple, they’ll give you their blood at once.”
Rakoczy let out a bark of laughter, and the count joined in. “People are so easily manipulated, don’t you agree?”
“But about Gwyneth—surely you’re not really going to…,” Gideon began, and his gaze flickered slightly. He still wasn’t looking at me.
The count smiled. “Come now, what on earth are you thinking of, my dear
boy? No one will hurt a hair of her head. She is only my hostage for a while. I mean until you have traveled back from the year 1912 with the blood, taking it straight to the year 2011.” He raised his voice. “And these sacred halls will tremble when the brotherhood gathers and the time comes when the Circle of Blood in the chronograph can be closed.” He sighed. “Ah, how I wish I could be present at
that magical moment. You must tell me all about it in detail.”
Oh, yes, I bet. Blah blah blah. I realized that I was instinctively gritting my teeth. My jaws hurt already. Meanwhile the count had gone over to Gideon and was standing so close to him that the ends of their noses almost touched. Gideon didn’t bat an eyelash. The count raised his forefinger. “Then the elixir will be found under the
sign of the twelvefold star, and it will be your task to bring it to me without delay.” He took hold of both Gideon’s shoulders and looked into his eyes. “
Without delay.
”
Gideon nodded. “I’m only wondering why you want the elixir brought back to
this
year,” he said. “Wouldn’t it be even more use to mankind in the twenty-first century, our own time?”
“A clever and philosophical question,” replied
the count, smiling, and he let go of Gideon. “I am glad that you ask it. But this is not the time for such conversations. I will be happy to tell you all about my complex plans when your task is finished. Until then, you must simply trust me!”
I almost laughed out loud. Only almost. I tried to catch Gideon’s eye, but although I was sure he noticed, he kept looking past me. At the clock, with
its hands moving inexorably on.
“There’s one other thing: Lucy and Paul have a chronograph of their own at their disposal,” said Gideon. “They could try to visit you here, today or maybe earlier … and prevent all of this, including the handing over of the elixir.”
“Ah, now, surely by this time you understand enough of the laws of continuity to know that, so far, they have not succeeded in sabotaging
my plans, or we would not be here together, would we?” The count smiled. “And I have, of course, taken special precautions for the next few hours, until the elixir is in my hands. Rakoczy and his men will kill any unauthorized person who ventures near us.”
Gideon nodded and put a hand on his stomach. “Here we go,” he said, and at last our eyes met. “I’ll be back soon with the elixir.”
“I am
sure that you will carry out your mission to perfection, my boy,” said the count cheerfully. “
Bon voyage.
Gwyneth and I will pass the time while you are gone with a little glass of port wine.”
I fastened my gaze on Gideon’s, trying to put all my love into my eyes, and then he had disappeared. I felt like bursting into tears, but I went on gritting my teeth and made myself think of Lucy.
Over
sandwiches and tea in Lady Tilney’s salon, we had gone through it all over and over again. I knew that we had to beat the count with his own weapons if we wanted to defeat him once and for all. And it had sounded simple enough, at least if Lucy’s assumption was right. She had come up with it, just like that, and at first we dismissed it. Then, after some thought, Gideon nodded. “Yes,” he said. “You
could be right.” And he began prowling around the room again.
“Suppose we do what the count says and give Gideon our blood,” Lucy went on. “Then he can close the Circle of Blood in the second chronograph, and hand the elixir over to the count, and then the count gets to be immortal again.”
“Which is exactly what we’ve been trying to avoid like the plague for years, right?” said Paul.
Lucy raised
her hand. “Just a minute. Let’s at least think this through.”
I nodded. I didn’t know exactly what she was getting at, but somewhere at the back of my mind a question mark was quietly forming. It grew bigger, and turned into an exclamation mark. “So the count gets to be immortal—until I’m born?”
“That’s right,” said Gideon. He stopped pacing up and down. “And
that
means that he’s still traveling
all over the place in the history of the world, alive and well. Including in our own present.”
Paul frowned. “You mean…”
Lucy nodded. “We mean that the count is watching the entire drama live, in full color.” She paused for a moment. “And I guess he has a seat in the front row.”
“One of the Inner Circle,” I guessed.
The others nodded. “The Inner Circle. The count is one of the Guardians.”
Now, as I sat here with the count, I looked at his face.
Which of them was he?
The clock above the mantelpiece was ticking loudly. It was going to be an eternity before I traveled back.
The count gestured to me to sit down in one of the upholstered armchairs, poured glasses of dark red wine for both of us, and handed me one. Then he took the armchair opposite and raised his glass to me. “Your
good health, Gwyneth! It was two weeks ago today that we first met—well, from my point of view, anyway. I am afraid that my first impression of you was not especially favorable. But by now we are good friends, would you not agree?”
Oh, sure. I sipped my wine, and then said, “You almost throttled me at that first meeting.” I took another sip. Then, rather bravely, I added, “At the time, I thought
you could read thoughts. But I expect I was wrong about that.”
The count laughed in a self-satisfied way. “Well, I am able to understand the main currents of other people’s thoughts, but there is no magic about it. Indeed, anyone could learn it. I told you, when we met before, about my visits to Asia and how I acquired the wisdom and abilities of Tibetan monks there.”
So he had, yes. And I hadn’t
been listening properly. In fact, even now I was finding it hard to make out his words. They suddenly sounded strangely distorted, sometimes long drawn out and slow, then as if they were being sung. “What on earth…,” I murmured. Veils of pink mist were gathering before my eyes, and I couldn’t blink them away.
The count interrupted himself in his lecture. “You’re feeling dizzy, aren’t you? And
now your mouth is dry, am I right?”
Yes, it was! How the hell did he know? And why did his voice sound so metallic? I stared at him through the strange pink mists.
“Have no fear, my child,” he said. “It will soon be over. Rakoczy has promised me that you will feel no pain. You will have fallen asleep before the spasms begin. And, with a little luck, you won’t wake up again before the end.”
I heard Rakoczy laugh. It sounded like the noises you get on a recorded tape in a ghost-train ride at a funfair. “But why…” I was trying to speak, but all at once, my lips felt numb.
“Don’t take this personally,” said the count in a chilly voice, “but in order to realize my plans, I am afraid I have to kill you. The prophesies foretell that, too.”
I wanted to keep my eyes open, but I couldn’t.
My chin fell on my breast, then my head flopped over to one side, and finally my eyes closed. Darkness surrounded me.
* * *
MAYBE I REALLY
am dead this time
was the first thought to cross my mind when I came back to my senses. But I hadn’t really imagined angels as naked little boys wearing nothing except rolls of excess fat and silly grins, like the specimens playing their harps above me
here. Anyway, they were only painted on the ceiling. I closed my eyes again. My throat was so dry that I could hardly swallow. I was lying on something hard, and I felt utterly exhausted, as if I’d never be able to move again.
Somewhere behind my right ear, I heard a tune being hummed. It was the death march motif from Wagner’s
The Twilight of the Gods
, Lady Arista’s favorite opera. The voice
humming the tune in an unsuitably jaunty way seemed to me vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place it. And I couldn’t look to see whose it was, either, because my eyes simply refused to open.
“Jake, Jake,” said the voice, “I’d never have expected you, of all people, to get on my trail. But your medical Latin will do you no good now.” The voice laughed softly. “By the time you wake up, I’ll be over
the hills and far away. You know, it’s very pleasant in Brazil at this season. I lived there for several years, from 1940 onward. There’s much to be said for Argentina and Chile as well.” The voice paused for a moment to whistle a few bars of the Wagnerian theme. “I’m always drawn back to South America. And Brazil, incidentally, has the best cosmetic surgeons in the world. They’ve dealt with my
annoyingly hooded eyelids, my hooked nose, my receding chin. Which is why, fortunately, I don’t look much like my own portrait anymore.”
My numb arms and legs were beginning to tingle, but I controlled myself. It was probably all to the good if I kept perfectly still for now.