Stoker's Manuscript (27 page)

“Over pints?” I said out loud.

“Over pints, yes.”

“Why would he do that?”

She returned to her silent words:
When Gheorghe first meet him, Stoker was only writing plays then, gothic plays with unnatural creatures. Gheorghe attended the shows and went out with his host after.

And talked over pints.

Men do foolish things over pints.
She was not happy.
Told Stoker his creatures all wrong.

He wrote all over Stoker’s notes, too. The same thing as you said. Correcting what Stoker had wrong, suggesting changes.

She nodded.

But then later he regretted it. Did George not know these papers were for a book? For international publication?

No. My husband thought he wrote only plays. Gheorghe described his office at the
teatru
as being filled with piles of paper and notes with script names on top. Stoker did not tell him he was writing a manuscript; much artist thievery then.

I showed her the harsh letter from Stoker accusing him of approaching the publisher.
Did your husband go to Constable?

No answer returned. Sonia straightened in her chair.

The dates coincide with George being in London on the days of both fires.

“Let me ask you, Mr. Joseph,” she said aloud. “Do you ever do something that others see as breaking law, but you do only to protect something from harm?”

“I just did,” I said.
They’re in your hands.

My husband deeply regretted what he did, that he opened his mouth.

That your culture’s secret would become so public?

Not only that,
she thought.
He feared the author had said too much for his own safety. For our safety.

A silent moment passed.
Along with the letters I found copies of the original chapters that went into the burned first edition of Dracula.

You would be wise to burn them.

I thought they were a treasure that belonged to the ages.

You will not think so if that family breeds.

Are the wives suspended?

Suspend, yes, both like
,
she thought.

Then why did Dracula not kill the wives?

All the Nobles know it would mean . . .
.
Extinction.

Sonia seemed to be describing some vampire version of mutually assured destruction, in which Noble wives were somehow considered off-limits, even to their enemies.

Did the two brothers really kill Vlad Dracula?

Yes.
She gestured to indicate he was dismembered.
That is what happens when you scheme against a Noble wampyr.

Revenge for kidnapping their wives?

Yes.

What happened to the other brother, Radu?

She did not answer, but instead stood from her chair and led me to the kitchen. “Come, let us eat.”

Before me she placed a plate of sausages and half a loaf of hard-crusted bread with a side of flavored olive oil. I turned down the
, the plum brandy, for coffee. Two bites and I could say without reservation it was the best bread I ever ate. It must have come through loudly enough that she responded, “
.
You are most gracious guest.”

“I do mean it.”

Sonia smiled. “After a hundred years or so, a woman should get good at something, yes?”

We both laughed. Eating was not the time for hosting unpleasant talk, so we spoke of other matters during our dinner. I took wide-eyed pleasure listening to her soothsaying tales from her American trip; she recited an impressive client list that included presidents, authors, and business titans.

As Sonia cleaned the dishes at the sink, I looked at her. By that, I mean I really looked at her, not as a gracious host, but as a woman. Not that I knew women, not even in the Biblical sense, but to have such a wife at home while off pursuing a vocation must have presented George with real challenges, the red-blooded kind. To have someone love you so much that a century removed still brought tears, that is the type of love any sane man would protect.

Sonia turned her head in my direction, hurriedly finished her task, and returned to the table. She refilled my coffee before sitting down. She looked in my eyes and then covered my hands with hers. Unlike the protective pat on the hands, this was a touch that told me I belonged there, right there. Also, I did not feel the usual jolt, like static electricity, but rather warmth that traveled up my arms.

“Thank you,” she said aloud.

I knew she had been listening, and blushed. Then I briefly considered that maybe George got away periodically to have some thoughts to himself.

She tilted her head up slightly and laughed. “Maybe.”

“Perhaps men need more privacy than women,” I said.

She recognized that I was rather troubled about the coming events and returned to solemnity.
Remember, Joseph, that all great conquests are built on single step. Take each one and do your best.

.

You have been scheming.

I nodded.

All your thoughts move toward murder now, yes?

Not murder—self-preservation,
I thought.

Tell me your plan.

The brothers are at war, aren’t they?

Only over
one thing—each would die before letting the other mate again.

So if I find one of the wives, I can set one brother against the other, set up an ambush.

You would make a deal with the undead?
she thought.

I’m certainly dead if I don’t find Dalca’s wife.

And you would double-cross him over his brother?

I could not answer for sure, since I had not met Radu, nor had Sonia answered my earlier question about him.

It is possible,
she thought.
But consider it the last double cross you will ever do.

I know.

She looked at me for a long time, a companionable silence growing between us.
Do you really want to know?

She wasn’t simply talking about Dalca’s brother Radu. No, I had a very clear idea now that Sonia knew the exact location where both wives were buried.

Do you really, really want to know, Joseph?

You would take this knowledge to your grave, wouldn’t you?

“I would,” she said.

At this point my blood surged with the realization that she had withheld knowledge that cost me a trip. I pushed away from the table, stood, and paced her small living room. This time I pressed her for an answer: “You knew that your husband was the assistant for both Stoker and Tesla and didn’t tell me. You’ve known where the wives’ bodies are buried all along. Why didn’t you tell me these things before I went on that trip?”

Silence!
she shouted at me, not with words but in thought.

I shut up and listened.

You needed to be tested—

“No,” I interrupted, “I needed answers. And you have them.”

Tell me, Joseph.
Her thoughts calmed and words slowed.
What would be your plan if you were to come to this knowledge?
She pointed to the seat and I returned to the table.
Were you in danger there?

I thought it over and concluded that the trip was immeasurably enlightening. I shook my head.

She reached across and stroked the side of my face once, clearly conveying that I needed to trust her.
Tell me your plan.

Because if it’s not a good plan you won’t give me the answer, right?

She nodded.
I have more at stake than just my knowledge.

Unless I could create some sort of Tesla-inspired microwave or laser transmitter and use it at just the right time against Dalca, killing him would have to be the old-fashioned way, a swift and silent attack.

As you suggested, it must be an ambush.
I waited for her answer.

In response, she posited this question:
Remember the fight in the cemetery?

I nodded.

How did Radu know his brother was coming to Baia Sprie?

I thought a second, and an image popped into my head of the merchant who sold me my brother’s gift.
The merchant who tipped him off when he saw my crucifix.

She acknowledged with a nod.
The merchant has been replaced. The new one belongs to Radu, the Keeper of the North.

Geography—that is Radu’s backyard.

An affirming smile told me I was right.

So Radu can’t bring his army down here for an ambush.

He’d have to come alone, swiftly, or the winged creatures announce his arrival.

She had a point.
Sneak in and get it done or risk a full-scale fight to the death by mobilizing all his warriors and leaving the home front unguarded.

That was how corruption and family wars started across Europe during the Crusades.

I shared with her my plan, such as it was: I would attempt to get an audience alone with Radu to tell him I might have located his brother’s wife. Since that would spell the end of my usefulness to Dalca, I’d tell Radu that I would like to exchange my knowledge of this gravesite for safe passage out of Romania. Details of the ambush would not be set until finding the wives’ exact locations.