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curious. I would listen, but I intended to ask some hard questions while I did so.
"Now then, about the murders you have mentioned. I confess. I am guilty, although
I think murder too harsh a term. You see, I am a special being, by birth, by death,
and most particularly by blood or by the way it is assimilated in my body. You are
capable of understanding war, I believe? No? Well, it is not a pleasant concept, but
it is the inevitable result of two diverse parties in need of the same resource."
I nodded.
"Miss Lovelace, though you feel compelled to put a moral judgment upon my needs,
they are, you know, my needs. I need blood to live, even as you do. I am a friendly
fellow. I try to live among others as a comrade, taking only what is necessary, but
when I am threatened with death either by deprivation or by interference I react
as a soldier. I kill before I am myself permanently deprived of what I now
experience as life."
"Very well," I said. "I understand that by your own lights you are not a criminal,
though the same could undoubtedly be said for many who are indisputably
blackguards."
"You as yet understand nothing, and I think that in order to explain it to you, we
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must discuss my family origins in more depth."
I could see he was settling down to enjoy that. "Please," I said, "you've already
explained about the Draculas being descended from the European dragon priests,
but I don't see how that applies. The jaguar priests of Mexico had the ability to
change themselves into other things, but I don't believe they ever sucked blood."
"No, but they drank it, did they not? And partook of the victims whose hearts they
fed to their overlord? Do you not think such a practice might incur a curse or two,
maybe even a curse powerful enough to brand a hereditary line of priests with a
special talent?"
"The dragon I met didn't believe in curses," I said. "He was a very scientific sort of
creature. Tell me, Vasily Vladovitch, do you read the works of Mr. Jules Verne?"
"I do not believe this is an auspicious time to discuss literature," he said stiffly,
somewhat miffed at being sidetracked from regaling me with a recitation of his
"begats."
"I thought we were, assuming that your knowledge of the Mexican dragon is gleaned
mainly from my book."
"Not only from that. We have teachings, we higher beings, that encompass the
philosophies of all five of the great dragons, though, of course, my knowledge of the
Northern Wurm is greatest."
"Well, the feathered serpent would be gratified by the works of Mr. Verne. Do your
teachings tell you that the worms are scientific missionaries from another world?"
"That much is implied but is couched, of course, in the appropriate beautifully
poetic sacred liturgy."
"The better to obscure its meaning," I muttered. "Well, I can add to that. Kukulkan
or Quetzalcoatl, as some call him told me that the Jaguar people were, like the
dragons, an ancient species, a more assimilated and degenerated life-form, whose
special abilities peculiarly fitted them for the priesthood. Might the same not be true
of your own forebears?"
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"For an artist you have not an ounce of poetry in your soul," he said accusingly.
"I beg your pardon. It is not my theory. It is the dragon's. I don't know about your
Wurm, but Kukulkan was in his time a very practical sort of deity. His wings were
used for reconnaissance, not flights of fancy."
"Ah, but how does that explain the ability we ancient ones possess to add to our
numbers?"
"You have a lot of converts, do you?" I asked, seemingly offhandedly but really with
the most avid interest, since I feared I either was one or was about to become one,
along with many of my friends and acquaintances.
"Not a lot, no. It is not the sort of life, if you will, for which many are suited. You
must understand that our bites can produce a number of results, running the gamut
from death to more or less eternal life."
"Pray continue. I confess I have been curious about that."
"Well, there is, first of all, the death bite. I avoid that one, myself, except when I am
truly depleted and must have a great infusion immediately to revive myself. This
was more or less what happened when the boat docked this summer in San
Francisco. You understand that during the daylight hours, I must rest and cannot
feed. Although this country has the wonderful property of having nearly continuous
night for months on end, the reverse is true in the summer, when daylight reins
supreme for almost two and a half months. That is why I chose to go to San
Francisco, where it got decently dark and I could live a little. To the best of
everyone's knowledge here, I was out working on my claim while my children built
my home and my business."
"They aren't vampires then?"
"Not most of them, at least not fully. They are rather all quite fond of being bitten,
having developed a hereditary longing for the euphoric secreted by my saliva when I
feed."
"That must have been what Maisie was prattling on about," I said.
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"Ah, Maisie, yes. Isn't she charming? So enthusiastic. Not everyone has such a
positive attitude toward initiation, you know. I had to be quite firm with poor
Giselle."
"Did you kill her?" I asked.
"You have the harshest way of looking at things. No, I did not kill her, but I had to
restrain her until the euphoric worked its way out of her system. Too bad. She is a
particularly succulent sort. But she got carried away and tried to bite others before
she herself was fully initiated. Just because she could shift shapes an ability
acquired prematurely as a result of previous indoctrination into the occult she
thought herself my equal. I had to finish off that detective, Norman, myself for she
had crushed his jugular in her ardor. I couldn't let the poor fellow, however
obnoxious, die like that. Also, her system has not yet begun to produce the
euphoric."
"How about the other deaths? The mountie at Tagish? Egil's friend on the boat, the
drunk in the alley in San Francisco, the miners around here?" [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]