The Historian

Chapter 66

"Iwoke early in my cot in the men's dormitory at Rila; sunshine was just beginning to come through the small windows, which looked out on the courtyard, and some of the other tourists were still sound asleep on the other cots. I'd heard the earliest call of the church bell, in the dark, and now that bell was tolling again. My first thought on waking this time was that Helen had said she would marry me. I wanted to see her again, to see her as soon as possible, to find a moment to ask her if yesterday had been a dream. The sunshine that filled the courtyard outside was an echo of my sudden happiness, and the morning air seemed to me unbelievably fresh, full of centuries of freshness.
"But Helen was not at breakfast. Ranov was there, sullen as ever, smoking, until a monk asked him gently to go outside with his cigarette. As soon as the meal was over, I went along the corridor to the women's row, where Helen and I had parted the night before, and found the door standing open. The other women, the Czechs and Germans, had gone, leaving their beds neatly made. Helen was still asleep, apparently; I could see her form in the cot nearest the window. She was turned toward the wall, and I stepped in, silently, reasoning that she was my fianc¨¦e now, and I had the right to kiss her good morning, even in a monastery. I closed the door behind me, hoping no monks would happen by.
"Helen lay with her back to the room, on a cot near the window. When I drew closer, she rolled slightly in my direction, as if sensing my presence. Her head was tipped back, her eyes closed, her dark curls spread over the pillow. She was deeply asleep and an audible, almost stertorous breathing came from her lips. I thought she must have been tired after our travels and our walk of the day before, but something about the very abandon of her attitude made me step closer, uneasy. I bent over her, thinking I would kiss her even before she awoke, and then in a single terrible moment I saw the greenish pallor of her face and the fresh blood on her throat. Where the nearly healed wound had been, in the deepest part of her neck, two small gashes oozed, red and open. There was a little blood on the edge of the white sheet, too, and more on the sleeve of her cheap-looking white gown, where she'd thrown one arm back in her sleep. The front of her gown was pulled askance and slightly torn, and one of her breasts was bare almost to the dark nipple. I saw all this in a frozen instant, and my heart seemed to stop beating inside me. Then I reached down and drew the sheet gently over her nakedness, as if covering a child for sleep. I couldn't think of any other motion, at that moment. A thick sob filled my throat, a rage I didn't yet quite feel.
"'Helen!' I shook her shoulder gently, but her face did not change. I saw now how haggard she looked, as if she were in pain even in her sleep. Where was the crucifix? I remembered it suddenly, and looked all around. I found it by my foot; the narrow chain was broken. Had someone torn it off, or had she broken it herself in sleep? I shook her again. 'Helen, wake up!'
"This time she stirred, but fretfully, and I wondered if I might somehow harm her by bringing her to consciousness too quickly. After a second, however, she opened her eyes, frowning. Her movements were very feeble. How much blood had she lost during this night, this night when I'd been sleeping soundly in the next corridor? Why had I left her alone, then or on any night?
"'Paul,' she said, as if puzzled. 'What are you doing here?' Then she seemed to struggle to sit up and discovered the disarray of her gown. She put her hand to her throat, while I watched in a speechless anguish, and drew it slowly away. There was sticky, drying blood on her fingers. She stared at them, and at me. 'Oh, God,' she said. She sat upright and I felt a first hint of relief, despite the horror in her face; if she'd lost a lot of blood, she would've been too weak for even that much action. 'Oh, Paul,' she whispered. I sat down on the edge of the bed and took her other hand in mine and gripped it hard.
"'Are you completely awake?' I said.
"She nodded.
"'And you know where you are?'
"'Yes,' she said, but then she put her head down over her bloody hand and broke into harsh low sobs, a horrifying sound. I had never before heard her cry out loud. The sound went through my body like a wave of bitter cold.
"'I'm here.' I kissed her clean hand.
"She squeezed my fingers, weeping, then tried to gather herself. 'We must think what - is that my crucifix?'
"'Yes.' I held it up, watching her carefully, but to my infinite relief there was no sign of recoil in her face. 'Did you remove it?'
"'No, of course not.' She shook her head and a leftover tear rolled down her cheek. 'And I don't remember breaking it. I don't think they - he - would dare to, if the legend is accurate.' She was wiping her face now, keeping her hand carefully clear of the wound on her throat. 'I must have broken it while I slept.'
"'I think so, judging from where I found it.' I showed her the spot on the floor.
'And it doesn't make you feel - uncomfortable - to have it near you?'
"'No,' she said wonderingly. 'At least, not yet. ' The cold little word made me catch my breath.
She reached out and touched the crucifix, at first hesitantly, and then took it in her hand. I let out my breath. Helen sighed, too. 'I fell asleep thinking about my mother, and about an article I would like to write on the figures in Transylvanian embroidery - they are famous, you know - and then I didn't wake until now.' She frowned. 'I had a bad dream, but my mother was mixed all through it, and she was - shooing away a great black bird. When she had frightened it away, she bent over and kissed my forehead, as she used to when I was a little girl going to sleep, and I saw the mark' - she paused, as if thinking pained her a little - 'I saw the mark of the dragon on her bare shoulder, but it seemed to me just a part of her, not something terrible. And when I received her kiss on my forehead, I was not so afraid.'
"I felt the prickle of a strange awe, remembering the night I had apparently kept my cat's destroyer at bay in my apartment by reading through midnight about the lives of the Dutch merchants I had come to love. Something had protected Helen, too, at least to some degree; she had been cruelly injured but not drained of blood. We looked silently at each other.
"'This could have been much worse,' she said.
"I put my arms around her and felt the trembling of her usually firm shoulders.
I was shaking, myself. 'Yes,' I whispered. 'But we must guard you from anything else.'
"She shook her head, suddenly, as if in wonder. 'And this is a monastery! I can't understand it. The undead abhor such a place.' She pointed to the cross over the door, the icon and holy lamp hanging in the corner. 'Here in the sight of the Virgin?'
"'I don't understand it, either,' I said slowly, turning her hand over in mine. 'But we know that monks traveled with Dracula's remains, and that he was probably buried in a monastery. There is something strange in that already. Helen' - I squeezed her hand - 'I've been thinking about something else. The librarian from home - he found us in Istanbul and then in Budapest. Couldn't he have followed us here, too? Could he have attacked you last night?'
"She winced. 'I know. He bit me once in the library, so he might want me again, might he not? But I felt strongly in my dream it was something else - someone much more powerful. But how could one of them get in, even if he was not afraid of a monastery?'
"'That part is simple.' I pointed to the nearest window, which stood slightly ajar five feet from Helen's cot. 'Oh, God, why did I let you stay here alone?'
"'I was not alone,' she reminded me. 'There were five other people sleeping in the room with me. But you are right - he can change shape, as my mother said - a bat, a mist - '
"'Or a great black bird.' Her dream had sprung up in my mind again.
"'Now I have been bitten twice, more or less,' she said, almost dreamily.
"Helen!' I shook her. 'I will never let you be alone again, not for an hour.'
"'Never an hour to myself?' Her old smile, sarcastic and loving, returned for a moment.
"'And I want you to promise me - if you feel something I can't feel, if you feel something looking for you - '
"'I will tell you, Paul, if I feel anything like that at all.' She spoke fiercely now, and her promise seemed to rouse her to action. 'Come, please. I need food and I need some red wine or brandy, if we can find it. Bring me a towel, there, and the basin - I will wash my neck and bind it.' Her passionate practicality was contagious and I obeyed at once. 'Later we will go in the church and clean this wound with the holy water, when no one is looking. If I can tolerate that, we can hope a great deal. How strange' - I was glad to see her cynical smile again - 'I have always felt all this church ritual is nonsense, and I still do.'
"'But apparently he does not think it is nonsense,' I said soberly."I helped her sponge off her throat, taking care not to touch the open lesions, and watched the door while she dressed. The sight of the wound up close was so terrible to me that I thought for a minute I would have to leave the room and give way to my tears outside. But although Helen moved weakly, I could see the set determination in her face. She tied on her customary scarf and found a piece of string in her baggage with which to make a new chain for the crucifix - this one stronger, I hoped. Her sheets were hopelessly stained, but only in small spots. 'We will let the monks think - well, that there have been women in their dormitory,' Helen said in her forthright way. 'It is surely not the first time they will have washed out some blood.'"
"By the time we emerged from the church, Ranov was lounging in the courtyard. He narrowed his eyes at Helen. 'You have slept very late,' he said accusingly. I looked carefully at his eyeteeth when he spoke, but they didn't appear any sharper than usual; if anything, they were ground down and gray in his unpleasant smile."