Page 60 of The Affair of the Mysterious Letter
Despite what passed for my companion’s reassurances, my unease only intensified until, on the stroke of twelve, the cabin door opened.
The figure who entered was at once magnificent and revolting. She was clad in a high-collared black gown, against which the unnatural pallor of her skin seemed almost to gleam. Her head was utterly bald, her ears tapering to animalistic points, and behind her voluptuously red lips her teeth were a jigsaw of needle points and jagged edges.
The figure of Ms. Haas upon the sofa caught her attention at once and the Contessa advanced towards her, taloned, too-long fingers grasping covetously at the empty air. Her shadow skittered across the wall, its movements not quite matching those of its owner. I thought it strange at the time that she did not notice me, for, while I was wearing black in a dark room, a vampire’s night vision is as acute as its hearing. At the time I attributed her oversight to the passion of the moment but, on reflection, I suspect that the strange gifts of Granny Liesl played a part in the matter.
It took the vampiress only moments to realise that the lady she approached was neither Miss Beck nor Miss Viola, and she recoiled with a hiss. “What treachery is this?”
Ms. Haas propped herself up on her elbows and, even in the semidarkness, I could see the effort it required. I hoped fervently that the intruder was not so attuned to the nuances of my companion’s well-being as I. “It’s not treachery. It’s the oldest trick in the book. Now, are we going to talk like civilised people or do you wish to earn the ire of the sorceress Shaharazad Haas?”
“You are Shaharazad Haas? The woman who defeated the demon wyrm of Lakshmere? Who rescued the Princess Elisabet from Comte Korvin? Who burned Castle Zarovich to the ground?” The Contessa raised a heavy brow. “I thought you’d be taller.”
“Well, I am lying down.”
“A strange choice for one confronting avampyr.”
Ms. Haas put a hand to her mouth to stifle a yawn. “I’m very confident and very lazy.”
“It is not”—the Contessa’s shadow put a claw to its chin—“that you have injured yourself in pursuit of me, and now find yourself unable to stand?”
“That is certainly a possibility.”
“Then what is stopping me from falling upon you right now and feasting on your heart’s blood?”
“Maybe nothing. Or maybe”—Ms. Haas indicated the empty wineglass on the table opposite—“I have consumed an alchemical concoction that has transmuted my blood into the living fire of the mad god that some superstitiously revere as the Creator. And, should you bite me, it will be the last thing you do before you perish in a brief but exquisite moment of terrifying agony. Now admit it, that does sound more like me.”
The Contessa paused for a moment. “You know, I think I’ll take the risk.”
“Oh, bother.”
At this juncture, several things occurred simultaneously. The Contessa lunged for Ms. Haas, but the jackdaw, which had hitherto shown no signs of aggression, swooped from its perch and made a vicious attack against the vampire’s eyes. This briefly arrested her attack, but in a matter of seconds she had slashed it from the air with a swipe of her talons. The poor creature tumbled to the ground, where it vanished in a billow of shadow and feathers. The distraction had beenminor but afforded me just sufficient opportunity to snatch up my hip flask and empty its contents over the Contessa’s head.
Wet, angry, and perhaps a little perplexed, she spun to face me. If she was presently experiencing the excoriating power of the Creator’s wrath against her and all her benighted kind, she was doing a very good job of hiding it. “What the —— was that?”
I have removed an offending item from the Contessa’s vocabulary but could find no appropriate substitute. Before I could make reply, her fingers closed around my throat and I was lifted bodily from the ground. The pressure on my carotid arteries, coupled with the general sense of disorientation that came of being picked up like a child’s toy, limited my capacity to respond. I did, however, muster the wherewithal to discharge my pistol into the Contessa’s body. The silver bullets proved somewhat more efficacious than the flask of not-at-all-holy water I had been dutifully carrying since we had left Khelathra-Ven, although they were not so efficacious as to prevent my attacker from slamming me through the armchair I had just vacated.
When I had regained my senses sufficiently to be once more aware of what was happening around me, I saw Ms. Haas had, by some miracle, come to her feet and, swaying slightly, was once more chanting the private name of the Creator. Pale fire flickered in her eyes, but before she could complete the incantation the Contessa seized her by the hair and the waist and plunged her fangs into my companion’s exposed throat.
To my horror, Ms. Haas went limp, her head falling back in an attitude of uncharacteristic surrender. I reached for my gun but found it nowhere to hand, and between the rigours of our journey and the exertions of the current battle, I was unable to rise in time to intervene. Just as I was coming to the perturbing realisation that this was likely the end of us both, the cabin door opened, revealing a man in a guard’s uniform.
“Run,” I cried, seeing no reason that an innocent railway employee should sacrifice himself for our doomed escapade.
Whereupon his image shimmered and in his place appeared a slight figure in a dark suit and a pallid mask. They raised a pistol and fired three shots into the Contessa’s back. She crumpled to the floor, Ms. Haas doing likewise. I scrambled across the cabin to offer my companion what little protection I could and found her barely conscious, her dress dark with blood. Glancing up in the hope that our rescuer could offer further assistance, I realised they had vanished.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
The Vampiress
There was littlemore I could do to aid Ms. Haas and so I thought it best to retrieve my pistol, which I eventually located underneath the table. I reloaded it and kept it trained on the Contessa, lest she recover her faculties before my companion and offer us mischief. Happily, Ms. Haas came to first. Dragging herself shakily to the sofa, she was silent for a troubling duration.
“Good shooting, Captain,” she said at last.
“Thank you, but it was not my doing. We benefited from the unexpected apparition of a mysterious stranger.”
Ms. Haas frowned. “Intriguing, but a matter best addressed after we have resolved the immediate problem of the Contessa.”
It soon became apparent, however, that the Contessa was not our most immediate problem. The recent discharge of several rounds of shot, along with the rather extensive destruction of property, had attracted the attention of the actual guards, who appeared now in the doorway where the false guard had been only minutes earlier. To my surprise and relief, they were very understanding, accepting quite readily Ms. Haas’s explanation that the firearms had been used in self-defence against the vampire who still lay on the floor of the cabin and who would, if not neutralised, have continued to pose a threat to the passengers of the train. Looking back I realise that, a railway guardbeing in no way qualified to do battle with either a mistress of the undead or a sorceress, they were likely more than happy to allow the one to take care of the other, any alternative course of action being, as the saying goes,more than their job’s worth.
“Quickly,” continued Ms. Haas when the attendants had departed, “pass me a piece of that wineglass.”
