An Old Friend Of The Family (Saberhagen's Dracula Book 3) by Fred Saberhagen (interesting books to read for teens .TXT) 📗

like this. It was not what Corday might have done, or what he was saying, so much as what he was. Just what the old man was, Joe did not know; but the closer he got to it, the more his deepest feelings recoiled.

    “Historically,” the old man was continuing, “such frightful warnings have been more effective than many people currently suppose. Then of course, two or even all three purposes may be served by the same act—the same atrocity, if you will. And now, before you ask me another question Joe, will you answer one for me in turn?”

    “I don’t know. If I can. Maybe.”

    “Who is Craig Walworth?”

    Joe blinked, trying to shift gears. “I’ve heard the name. Society. From one of the wealthy families in the city. What’s he got to do with any of this? Don’t tell me this is him?” He gestured at the still figure on the cot.

    Corday shook his head tiredly. “I doubt that very much.”

    “This guy”—he gestured toward the cot, where blind blue eyes stared up—“ran down the hill to get to running water, huh?”

    “Thinking his pursuer could not follow him across the stream. Grasping at a faint hope of that, at least.”

    “His pursuer, meaning you. The gun in your hand, not his.”

    The wicked old eyes looking up at Joe were once more amused.

    Joe shivered. Words came from him involuntarily: “I think you’re crazy. You’re a maniac. I should never have left Judy alone with you for a minute.”

    At last, at last, some basic feeling had been provoked, deep in those dark ancient eyes that looked, to Joe, not a bit more human for its presence. Joe was suddenly, comfortingly, aware of the weight that rode his shoulder-holster, underneath his jacket. And it was a relief also to hear more cars arriving now, pulling in round the last turn of the long drive from the highway.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

   Again Judy was not alone in her own warm bedroom, though it was the middle of the night. Her waking was gradual and without fear, but she knew he was there even as she woke.

    Judy turned over in bed and looked. This time his dark figure was standing beside the dressing-table chair.

    “Have I alarmed you?” Dr. Corday’s normal voice inquired softly.

    “No.” She sat up in bed, and was irritated to find herself involuntarily fingering the top button of her nightgown again. “What is it?”

    “The truth is that I feel a need to talk. And I much prefer your company to that of anyone else I can talk with tonight.”

    “Won’t you sit down?”

    “Thank you.” The chair in his hand moved with ghostly silence. He settled into it without a sound.

    “I wanted to thank you,” Judy said, “for what you did today.”

    “It was my pleasure, as well as my duty, to be of service.” And her visitor made her a little seated bow.

    “Can you tell me anything more about Kate?” When her question had gone unanswered for a moment Judy added: “I’m certain now that she’s still alive. Don’t ask me how I know. But I was right about Johnny, wasn’t I? It’s the same feeling.”

    “Indeed, you were right. You have a talent in such matters.”

    “But you don’t want to talk about Kate yet. All right, I trust you.”

    He was silent for a long time, and motionless in his chair. at last he said: “It is long, I think, since anyone has trusted me in such a way. Strange, it had not occurred to me for a long time, that I was never any longer trusted…ah, Judy, I am tired tonight.”

    “Can’t you get any rest?”

    “That is one thing I wished to discuss with you tonight. In the morning you will hear that I have disappeared from my motel. The police, as they believe, have put me in a storage there, so they may check up on me with the authorities in London before they begin to question me intensively.”

    “Are you in trouble?”

    He almost laughed, though not at her, she saw with relief. Perhaps at himself. “My dear! I am never out of trouble, one might say. Tomorrow the police will not find me available for questioning. But tomorrow night I shall be active again, and perhaps you will see me then. The task for which you so justly summoned me will be completed—if I can do it. The truth is, the enemy has proven to be rather more powerful than I at first suspected. Still, I believe I can succeed, if I am given occasional help as effective as your help was today.”

    “Oh yes! Anything. Of course. Do you have a place where you can rest?”

    “Fortunately I long ago made preparations for a visit to the New World. You see, real rest is not always easy for me to obtain, particularly when I am this far from home. My enemies no doubt have counted on that fact. Oh, yes, it is my enemies that we are here concerned with.”

    “I don’t understand.”

    “What is it about the Southerland family, I have asked myself, that could provoke such seemingly senseless attacks as those you have endured? The unique thing about the Southerlands, I say in answer to my own question, is their special relationship with a very unusual protector, and old friend no one else in America can claim. Ergo, the purpose of the seemingly purposeless onslaught is to lure this old friend of theirs here from across the sea. In America, his foes calculate, their chances of attacking him successfully will be much improved. Here, it will be hard for him to find a place to rest, and perhaps they can locate it when he does.”