some sugar into my tea from a bowl on the table, picked up my spoon, and stirred it. I had every intention of calming myself with the hot drink, but then something very-very peculiar happened.’
“His voice trailed off as if he almost regretted having begun the story. I knew that feeling all too well, and nodded to encourage him. ‘Please, continue.’
“‘It sounds strange to say it now, but I am speaking truthfully. The steam rose up from the cup-you know how steam swirls when you stir something hot?-and when I stirred my tea, the steam rose up in the form of a tiny dragon, swirling above my cup. It hovered there for a few seconds before vanishing. I saw it very clearly with my own eyes. You can imagine how I felt, for a moment not trusting myself, and then I quickly gathered my papers, paid, and went out.’
“My mouth was dry. ‘And did you ever see that waiter again?’
“‘Never. I did not go back to the restaurant for some weeks, and then curiosity came over me, and I went in again after dark, but there was no sign of him. I even asked one of the other waiters about him, and that waiter said the man had worked there only a short while, and he did not know his last name. The man’s first name, he said, was Akmar. I never saw any other sign of him.’
“‘And did you think his face showed that he was -’ I trailed off.
“‘I was terrified by it. That is all I could have told you at that time. When I saw the face of the librarian you have-as you say-imported, I felt I knew it already. It is not simply the look of death. There is something in the expression -’ He turned uneasily and glanced toward the curtained niche where the portrait hung. ‘One thing that bludgeons me about your story, the information that you have just given me, is that this American librarian has progressed further toward his spiritual doom since you first saw him.’
“‘What do you mean?’
“‘When he attacked Miss Rossi in your library at home, you were able to knock him down. But my friend from the archive, whom he assaulted this morning, says he was very strong, and my friend is not so much slighter than you. The fiend also was already able to draw considerable blood from my friend, alas. And yet this vampire was out in the daylight when we saw him, so he cannot be yet completely corrupted. I conjecture the creature was drained of life a second time either at your university or here in Istanbul, and if he has connections here he will receive his third evil benediction soon and become forever undead.’
“‘Yes,’ I said. ‘There is nothing we can do about the American librarian without being able to find him, so you will have to guard your friend here very carefully.’
“‘I shall,’ Turgut said with grim emphasis. He fell silent for a moment, and then turned to his bookcase again. Without a word he pulled from his collection a large album with Latin letters across the front. ‘Romanian,’ he told me. ‘This is a collection of images from churches in Transylvania and Wallachia, by an art historian who died only recently. He reproduced many images from churches that were later destroyed in the war, I am sorry to say. So this book is very precious.’ He put the volume into my hand. ‘Why don’t you turn to page twenty-five?’
“I did. There I found a spread across two pages-a colored engraving of a mural. The church that had once housed it was displayed in a little black-and-white photograph, inset: an elegant building with twisted bell towers. But it was the larger picture that caught my attention. To the left loomed a ferocious dragon in flight, its tail looped not once but twice, its golden eye rolling maniacally, its mouth spewing flame. It seemed about to swoop down to attack the figure on the right, a cowering man in chain mail and striped turban. The man crouched in fear, his curved scimitar in one hand and a round shield in the other. At first I thought he was standing in a field of strange plants, but when I looked carefully I saw that the objects around his knees were people, a tiny forest of them, and that each was writhing, impaled upon a stake. Some were turbaned, like the giant in their midst, but others were dressed in some sort of peasant garb. Still others wore flowing brocades and tall fur hats. There were blond heads and dark; noblemen with long brown mustaches; and even a few priests or monks in black robes and tall hats. There were women with dangling braids, naked boys, infants. There was even an animal or two. All were in agony.
“Turgut was watching me. ‘This church was endowed by Dracula during his second reign,’ he said quietly.
“I stood gazing at the picture for a moment longer. Then I could bear no more and I shut the book. Turgut took it from my hand and put it away. When he turned to me, his look was fierce. ‘And now, my friend, how do you intend to find Professor Rossi?’
“The blunt question went into me like a blade. ‘I’m still trying to piece all this information together,’ I admitted slowly, ‘and even with your generous work last night-and Mr. Aksoy’s-I don’t feel we know much. Perhaps Vlad Dracula put in some kind of appearance in Istanbul after his death, but how can we find out if he was buried here, or still is? That remains a mystery to me. As far as our next move goes, I can only tell you that we are going to Budapest for a few days.’
“‘ Budapest?’ I could almost see the conjectures racing across his broad face.
“‘Yes. You remember Helen told you the story of her mother and Professor-her father. Helen feels strongly that her mother might have information for us that Helen’s never drawn out of her, so we’re going to talk with her mother in person. Helen’s aunt is someone important in the government and will arrange it, we hope.’
“‘Ah.’ He almost smiled. ‘Thank the gods for friends in high places. When will you leave?’
“‘Perhaps tomorrow or the day after. We’ll stay five or six days, I think, and then come back here.’
“‘Very well. And you must carry this with you.’ Turgut stood up suddenly and took from a cabinet the little vampire-hunting kit he had shown us the day before. He set it squarely in front of me.
“‘But that is one of your treasures,’ I objected. ‘Anyway, they might not let it through customs.’
“‘Oh, you must never show it at customs. You must hide it with the greatest care. Check your suitcase to see if you can put it in the lining somewhere, or better yet let Miss Rossi carry it. They will not search a woman’s luggage as thoroughly.’ He nodded encouragement. ‘But I will not feel easy in my heart unless you take it. While you are in Budapest, I will be looking through many old books to try to help you, but you will be hunting a monster. For now, keep it in your briefcase-it is very thin and light.’ I took the wooden box without another word and fitted it in next to my dragon book. ‘And while you are interviewing Helen’s mother, I will be digging around here for every possible hint of a tomb. I have not given up on the idea yet.’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘It would explain very much about the plagues that have cursed our city since that period we have been speaking of. If we could not only explain them but end them -’
“At that moment the door to his study opened and Mrs. Bora put in her head to call us to lunch. It was as delicious a meal as the one we’d eaten there the day before, but a much more somber one. Helen was quiet and looked tired, Mrs. Bora handed around the dishes with silent grace, and Mr. Erozan, although he sat up for a while to join us, was unable to eat much. Mrs. Bora made him drink a quantity of red wine, however, and eat some meat, which seemed to restore him somewhat. Even Turgut was subdued and seemed melancholy. Helen and I took our leave as soon as we politely could.
“Turgut saw us out of the building and shook our hands with all his usual warmth, urging us to call him when we knew our travel plans and promising us unabated hospitality on our return. Then he nodded to me and patted my briefcase, and I realized he was referring silently to the kit inside. I nodded in response and made a little gesture to Helen to tell her I’d explain later. Turgut waved until we could no longer see him under the lindens and poplars, and when he was out of sight, Helen put her arm wearily through mine. The air smelled of lilacs, and for a minute, on that dignified gray street, walking through patches of dusty sunlight, I could have believed we were on vacation in Paris.”
Chapter 37
