arrant plagiarists. If my work is so overrated, one wonders why so many stoop to imitate it.'
Ewers glared evil at him. Poe had not realised the depths of the man's envy.
'We find Herr Poe's work satisfactory, sir,' put in Richthofen.
Hardt raised a sardonic eyebrow. Poe was himself surprised.
'You feel your collaborator is suited to his task?'
'Eminently so, sir.'
Hardt looked at Ewers with a sharp smile and a repressed, almost French shrug.
'It seems the matter is settled without further debate, Ewers. Our Fighting Eagle must be judged the expert. Thank you for calling attention to the matter, but it seems your worries are entirely unfounded.'
Ewers's face was red with swallowed fury. Veins in his temples expanded and pulsed. Poe gathered Baron von Richthofen had just saved his life. If not that, at least his position. And Ewers had tried to eliminate him.
'Shall we go inside?' Hardt suggested. 'The Graf von Orlok finds out-of-doors tiring after sun-up.'
Karnstein stepped aside. The fliers formed a guard, lining the entrance to the Great Hall. Flanked by his motorcycle guards, Orlok inched across the cobbles, taking care to remain inside shadow. Hardt took his pointed elbow and helped him on to the first of the three steps that led to the great door.
There was a pause. The silent vampire was a traditionalist. He would not step across a threshold unless invited.
'Graf von Orlok,' said General Karnstein, 'you are welcome to the Chateau du Malinbois. Please come and go of your own will.'
Orlok ground fingernails together like cicada legs. Hardt helped him up the steps. Once inside, surrounded by gloom, the elder wriggled away from his outriders. In the close confines of the passageway that fed into the Great Hall, Poe almost choked on the death stink of Orlok's old clothes.
Karnstein followed Hardt and Orlok up the steps, pointing out the way to the Hall. Poe stayed close behind, followed by Theo and Ewers. He felt a pricking in his spine as he imagined Ewers thinking of thrusting a dagger into his back.
Richthofen hung back, letting the elders go their way, and stood between Theo and Poe. He glared out through the door at Ewers, who remained on the bottom step, still digesting his fury.
'Ewers,' said Richthofen, 'I shall thank you not to concern yourself with the affairs of my biographer.'
'Baron, I ...'
Poe, standing behind the Baron, saw only the neatly trimmed back of his head. Ewers was struck terrified. For an instant, Richthofen's ears were pointed and the set of his jaw changed. Turning round, he was as impassive and bland as ever. Poe was grateful he had not been staring the Baron in the face for the last few seconds. A blood tear trickled down Ewers's cheek. He was still gripped by terror.
They left Ewers in the courtyard and caught up with Orlok's party as General Karnstein showed them the wall of trophies, enumerating each flier's individual victories.
'This is most impressive,' Hardt exclaimed. 'The Graf von Orlok admires the achievements of JG1. As does his estimable cousin, the Graf von Dracula.'
'It will be a great privilege for these men,' Karnstein said. 'They are new-borns. Few of their kind are chosen for such exalted service.'
Poe had missed a vital point. What service was the general speaking of?
'To commemorate the significance of this position,' Hardt said, 'Berlin has decided its name should officially be changed. The Chateau du Malinbois is a little too
The Eagle's Castle.
Orlok prowled by the trophy wall, spindly claws tapping his chin as he looked at the relics of the dead. He seemed not to hear the talk, though his huge rat-ears must be sharp enough to catch the tiny sounds that plagued Poe. Hardt was merely the smiling mask, the dancing puppet. Orlok was the master.
'Now, if your intelligence officer can make himself available.'
Theo stepped forwards, smartly. His insouciant manner was gone. This was an Oberst Kretschmar-Schuldorff ready to stick at his post until the last trump.
. . we shall inspect the arrangements made to increase the castle's security when our commander-in-chief comes to be among his finest.'
General Karnstein cried clear stern tears of pride. Apart from the stoic Richthofen, the fliers were shocked, bewildered, ecstatic. Even these creatures could be impressed. The great commander was coming to Malinbois. No, to Schloss Adler. Sometimes, Poe hardly dared think the name.
Dracula.
36
Dark-Adapted
'It is as if I were about to be dressed down by my parents. You both look so earnest, so cross.'
'I am your mother in a way you don't yet understand,' Kate told Edwin, 'and Charles is your father. He brought you into this secret world. It is your duty to honour that.'
Edwin grinned, not understanding. His smile was easy but his eyes were hard. He was a wall to her mind; given their communion, he must work hard to be so impenetrable.
'Perhaps I shouldn't have peppered Rutledge's backside but I've likely saved his life. He was lax up there, careless. He'll be less so in future. The next fighter on his tail won't be a Camel. Lockwood got the point.'
They stood in the shed, between lines of aircraft. Charles leaned heavily on his stick. Jiggs worked nearby, patching the tail of the Camel Edwin had 'tagged'. The oily machine smell was strong.
Penned close between the aeroplanes, Kate saw the beginnings of the turn in Edwin. His movements were quicker. His face was colder. His sibilants hissed slightly, over sharpening teeth.
'You've taken from Kate,' Charles said.
Edwin, shame pricking minutely, looked down at the beaten earth of the shed. Then, flaring, he looked up and met their eyes.
'And I've taken from you, Beauregard. And Albert Ball. And others. We all take. That is how we grow, adapt.'
He would be eating steak nearly raw, swimming in red juice. And he would have an appetite, burning fuel like a rotary engine. He would be always hungry.
'Don't you feel the danger, Edwin?' 'Miss Reed, without wishing to be offensive, you're a
The cut in her throat, made with her own claw, stung. Healed over entirely, the phantom wound throbbed, pregnant with blood.
'Edwin, you misunderstand the condition. You aren't a vampire.'
'I don't wish to turn, Kate. I don't wish to die. I have a duty and I can best do my bit with your blood in me. I apologise if I hurt or upset you, but there is a greater cause than us both.'
He looked up through the open shed doors to the sky.
'Up there lives a monster. I am pledged to destroy it. I owe it to Ball.'
'Either purge yourself or turn altogether. I've seen what happens to people caught half-way between warmth and undeath. You don't appreciate the risks to your mind and body.'
Edwin appealed to Charles. 'Beauregard, you understand the risks are secondary. We don't matter. Duty does.'
Kate squirmed inside. Her blood-links with Edwin and Charles were stirring. She sensed what was going on beneath their conversation.
'It's not duty, Edwin. It's revenge.'
Edwin's face closed shut.
'My blood in you. It's fogged your mind, twisted your intentions.'
'Richthofen must fall.'
'Richthofen will fall. Eventually.
