The Stranger

are? I didn’t really do anything unusual. I just dreamed about you, and I felt glad that I did. I don’t see that there’s any reason for a brawl. You should be glad that miracles—”

“I don’t need any of your filthy miracles!” Melamori snapped.

I was astonished at how much venom could fit into such a small lady.

“No sniveling vampire would dare force me to do such a thing! It’s disgusting! To go to sleep in your own home and wake up in someone else’s bed. In the bed of some creature who doesn’t even deserve to be called human. It’s outrageous! You make me sick, Max! Do you know what I’m going to do now? I’m going to the Quarter of Trysts. At least there I’ll be able to meet a real live man and forget about this nightmare. I’d kill you if I could! You’re lucky that I can only kill humans!”

Slowly, my blood began to boil. When someone dumps so much rubbish on you all at once, no amount of breathing exercises promoted by Lonli-Lokli will do any good.

“Fury! Shrew!” I bellowed. “Coward! Go find some weakling whose head you can turn with your pathetic wiles! You need a man you can kill at the drop of a hat! ‘Get on his trail’ and it’s all up with him! I’m telling you, there was no spell! It was a wonder—a mi-ra-cle!”

“You dare say that to me, after all you’ve done?” Melamori asked, her voice tight with rage.

“I’ve done? I didn’t do anything. I just went to bed, closed my eyes, and dreamed about you. That’s the extent of my ‘magic.’ If you don’t believe me—fine! Suit yourself.”

I remembered how happy my dream had made me, and the consciousness of loss gave me a hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach. A new wave of rage swept over me. A dense ball of bitter saliva collected in my mouth. Lady Melamori was lucky that I was able to control myself. I spat on the floor, then stared dully at a hole in the carpet that gave off a cloud of reeking steam. When I got a grip on myself, I turned around. Melamori had shrunk into the corner, trembling. I felt sad and ashamed. At that moment life struck me as some monumental joke.

“I’m sorry, Melamori. I said some very foolish things. And you did, too, believe me. Take my amobiler and go home. We’ll talk later.”

“We have nothing to talk about,” Melamori said, creeping out of her hiding place and inching toward the door. “Even if you’re not a liar, all the worse! That means you can’t help it! Never mind—I’ll find a way. No one will ever force me to do anything! You hear me?”

She slammed the door so violently that one of my small fragile cabinets crashed to the floor. I clutched at my hair and shook my head—everything had gotten completely out of hand! It seemed my romance was smashed to smithereens. Yes, Max, that’s exactly what had happened.

I got out of bed and went downstairs. Dirty, rotten vampires like me have the bad habit of pouring gallons of kamra into themselves after forcing themselves upon sweet ladies. Besides that, we smoke our revolting, stinky cigarettes from another World, and this creates an illusion of emotional equilibrium in us. True, it doesn’t last very long. I was so tense and on edge that my lethargy evaporated like magic. Adrenalin is a powerful thing.

The fact is, I don’t have a drop of patience. If something goes wrong in my life, I’m not able to wait for an auspicious moment to remedy the situation. I’d rather spoil everything once and for all, as long as it’s today, than subject myself to anguished expectation and breathing exercises with an eye toward the future. Of course, it’s stupid, but there are things that are stronger than I am. Waiting and hoping is a path that may lead to sudden madness, but running amuck through town like a complete idiot—that’s sometimes just the ticket! Almost any action I take gives me the illusion that I’m stronger than unmerciful circumstances. I have to do something. This is my form of reasoning: a protective reflex, the uncouth, visceral reaction of a body in trouble. In short, what I truly hate is sitting in one place and suffering.

I went back to the bedroom and started getting dressed. I thought—I was absolutely certain—that I was going to go to work. I’d go help Juffin. What kind of work would he have me do, though? In any case, with a sip of Elixir of Kaxar in the morning I’d feel as good as new.

Only when I had gone outside did I realize that I was dressed not in the Mantle of Death, but in the swamp- colored looxi I had been wearing during my recent gluttonous outing with Sir Kofa. I shrugged. I didn’t have the strength to go back and change. The house awakened painful memories, too fresh for me to want to run up against them again. But going to work in these clothes wasn’t exactly appropriate, either.

I’ll take a walk through town, calm down a bit, do some thinking, and then we’ll see, I decided, turning into the first alleyway I came to.

My legs carried me along wherever they wished. I tried not to interfere. My memory, and the urge to get my bearings in my surroundings, were suspended for the time being. My thoughts also seemed to have taken a short vacation, and this was wonderful. I must admit, I hadn’t counted on this kind of relief.

My headlong flight through the night was interrupted by the rind of some exotic fruit. I slipped, plopping down on the sidewalk in the most inelegant manner. It was good I wasn’t wearing the Mantle of Death—this clumsy footwork could easily have soiled my sinister reputation. The unexpectedness of my fall from grace also jolted my memory, letting loose a stream of curses from my far-off homeland, long slumbering in the recesses of my memory. Two men who were coming out of a tavern stared at me in unfeigned delight. I went quiet, and realized I should pick myself up off the mosaic sidewalk. Praise be the Magicians, at least it was dry.

I got up and looked at the signboard over the establishment from which the two men had just emerged from. The name of the tavern struck me as more than fateful: The Vampire’s Dinner. I smiled bitterly and went inside. What I found was fully in keeping with my expectations, and filled me with a sense of foreboding. In the semidarkness stood the solitary silhouette of the barkeeper. His hair was disheveled and his eyelids glowed phosphorescent. From his ear, naturally, dangled the Earring of Oxalla. I began to feel more cheerful. This is where I should have brought Melamori for our discussion today. I think the proprietor of this establishment would certainly have been on my side.

I sat down at the table farthest from the door. The surface was daubed with red paint. These were supposed to represent spots of blood. I considered for a moment, then ordered something from the Old Cuisine. I was lucky that unhappiness always improved my appetite.

I was served a harmless-looking piece of pie with no outward signs of the vampire esthetic. When I made a tiny incision, the pie literally blew up like a piece of popcorn that explodes over a sizzling hot fire. On my plate there was now an airy cloud of a substance so delicious I had to order another one as soon as the first portion was gone. By the way, this culinary confection was called Breath of Evil.

When I had fallen into a blissful stupor, I ordered some kamra and began to fill my pipe. On top of all the other misfortunes, my meager supply of cigarette butts had dried up. That’s how it always was with me: if it rains, it pours.

I smoked, and stared at my fellow patrons with the lively interest of an imbecile. One of them was about to leave. His hairdo was just like that of Captain Giatta, whose life I had inadvertently saved: a braid down to his belt and an ample beard. Was this fellow perhaps from the Old Maid? Some ship’s cook adding to his stockpile of trade secrets? I scrutinized the stranger more carefully. He was just fishing around for his wallet in the mysterious depths of his flowing robe. Sinning Magicians! The dull gleam of mother-of-pearl: a belt. More precisely, the Belt! Another bewitched sailor. I’d have to do something.

Of course, I could simply have arrested the fellow. It was my duty to do so. But I understood very well the remarkable behavior of Captain Giatta. A bewitched man was quite capable of believing that he had to face death rather than surrender. So I decided just to follow him. My clothes, Praise be the Magicians, were completely unobtrusive. Why not do a little spying? A much better diversion than moaning over my broken heart. I tossed a crown down on the blood-spattered table. This was, of course, too much to pay for a few pieces of pie in a dive like this, but I felt very sympathetic toward the proprietor of the Vampire’s Dinner. The disheveled slyboots caught the gleam of shiny metal and his eyes lit up. I put a finger to my lips and slipped out the door. My bearded friend was just disappearing around the corner. I quickened my pace.

I didn’t recall having been in this part of Echo before, or perhaps it was just that at night it was hard to recognize. Anyway, I wasn’t in the mood for sightseeing. I didn’t take my eyes off the back of the stranger. Where was he taking me? I already envisioned how I would discover the hideout of a whole band of belted long-beards, and Juffin and I would swoop in and save them from their benighted existence. Actually, I wasn’t too eager to repeat my recent flirtation with someone else’s death. Never mind, we’d get out of it somehow.