I arrived late in the afternoon and was greeted by Ten Brincken, who had me strip in his surgery. He subjected me to an intimate examination, as if I were a horse destined for the auctioneer's block. Yes, he graded my teeth. With all manner of callipers and probes, he noted even the minutest measurements. I have no qualms about being naked in public, but I was not comfortable with the professor's prying fingers. He took a sample of my blood for analysis and placed the phial in a cool cabinet with many other labelled specimens. He asked me to shape- shift, to become a wolf or a bat. I refused. I do not perform magic tricks. He again demanded. In the examination room also was a uniformed officer, General Karnstein. He kindly ordered me to accede to Ten Brincken's request.
The Karnstein bloodline, which had its source in Styria, was one of the most distinguished in Europe. The General, one of Dracula's devoted allies in Austria-Hungary, was elder chieftain of his family-in-darkness. His involvement implied the Central Powers considered Malinbois a big show.
I changed, completely. I cannot
I simply
of one of my shapes and my body becomes malleable. I flow into another form. Like most of Dracula's get, I can take the shape of what I am told is a dire wolf, prehistoric terror of Europe. In Java, I learned the snake dance. I was the lover of a Malay elder, a
I have some of his blood in me. It sets me apart from the common
For Ten Brincken and the general, I assumed snake-shape then sloughed the new skin. Ten Brincken caressed the cast-off as if it gave him pleasure, holding it to the light and admiring rainbows in the scales. All men, Charles, are putty in my jewelled fingers, so they say.'
Winthrop tried to envision Mata Hari's snake-shape. He had never seen her famous Javanese Snake Dance, but had heard accounts from besotted devotees.
Karnstein said I reminded him of some lost daughter-in-darkness who could become a large black cat. He likes new-born girls, that one. I knew if I turned my attention to the general, I could enslave him. Few elders are complicated. They may be powerful, but subtlety is beyond them. Ten Brincken filled out his charts and I was dismissed.
'A wing of the chateau was set aside for those like me, courtesans. Rooms were stocked with unguents and face- paints. There were trunks of costumes. Much of the finery was rotted. I could tell this revel had been planned by men with little knowledge of or interest in debauchery.
'I was not the only delight at this banquet. Other women and one youth, all vampires, were provided. In the dressing room, I found Lady Marikova, one of the wife creatures who served Dracula in his Transylvanian exile. She had to be attended by Lola-Lola - a sharp, fat new-born minx - lest she get into a snit and murder an admirer. Old vampire bitches are terrible things, but pathetic. Also on the guest list were Sadie Thompson, an American adventuress with dead black eyes; the Baron Meinster, a golden-haired, girlish rake; Faustine, leading ornament of a Venetian brothel; and an elegant elder, Lemora. All whores of no little skill, we had another thing in common between us. We were all Dracula's get.'
Dawn broke outside. Trees lined the railway track, many bent and broken. The fields were grey, thin snow layered over mud. The train neared Amiens. Winthrop heard the eternal muttering of the guns. Drummond flinched in the thin light and hauled down a blind.
Every schoolboy knew the spread of vampirism throughout the civilised world was almost entirely Dracula's responsibility. Before the 1880s, only a few superstitious souls
Many claimed to be Dracula's get but were usually merely of his line, many times removed from the source. So many of the breed gathered in one place was significant.
Baron Meinster and Lady Lemora, at least, were at the chateau against their wishes. Only one could have so much power over elders. As I said, our father-in-darkness never lets his get go free. We are all his slaves.
It seemed strange we should have been assembled. I was under the impression most, if not all, fliers were vampires themselves. Surely, a fitter reward for their valiant deeds would be a cattle-cart of strong-hearted, sweet-blooded warm wenches. They are not hard to find. I am sure the allies feed their own heroes in the same manner ...
So far as Winthrop knew, this was not true.
At the stroke of midnight - another predictable melodramatic touch - we were escorted down to the Great Hall by liveried attendants. The men of JG1 stood to attention in full uniform before the vast fireplace. Lit from behind by pure flame, the fliers did seem the demigods the press would have them. Many a broad chest was insufficient to accommodate an accumulation of decorations. In this hall, Pour le Merites were as common as brass buttons. The odd thing was that the Circus seemed turned out for a parade inspection, rather than, as I frankly expected, an orgy.
We were presented individually, announced to the company by General Karnstein. Then Ten Brincken passed among us, one of his infernal lists clipped to a board. Like a dance director, he paired us off. Thompson was assigned to a predator named Bruno Stachel; Faustine with Erich von Stalhein; Meinster with a sad flier who preferred boys, Friedrich Murnau; Lemora with von Emmelman. Ten Brincken conducted business like a pig-farmer supervising a scientific breeding experiment.
When my turn came, I was offered to Manfred von Richthofen. I believe this suggests my status as Germany's premiere harlot. Strange as it seems, the Baron did not find the prospect of my attentions especially appealing. Other fliers passed comments or made enthusiastic noises when paired off. One or two couples - including Meinster and his flittery flyboy - were already embracing, drawing gentle blood. Ten Brincken was irritated by this immodest abandon but more tolerant of it than of the Baron's flat refusal. I confess I was somewhat surprised, even hurt. Any of these fliers could be dead within the night. In such a situation, a man is entitled to what pleasures may come within his grasp.
Winthrop thought of Cundall's Condors and 'mademoiselle'.
The Baron's brother, Lothar von Richthofen, was delighted to be given the Lady Marikova
her maid Lola-Lola, but distracted himself to try to jolly the Baron into going with me. As Lothar cajoled, I looked closely at Baron von Richthofen. I had imagined a giant but he is of moderate stature. His eyes are ice-blue and something is lacking in them. He is devoted, I understand, to hunting and has little interest in other pursuits. The hall is decorated with trophies of his kills but he is not as boastful as others with lesser scores. My impression is that he is not even a great patriot, merely a pure-bred hunting dog.
