A Matter Of Taste by Fred Saberhagen (best reads .TXT) 📗

      They saw her at last, now lying alone, stretched out wantonly upon the grass. And they saw me as well, though I had already started to retire from the scene.

      Now it may sometimes be unsafe to interrupt a gentleman of passionate nature in the midst of his amorous endeavors. The danger is compounded when the gentleman happens to be a vampire. But on this occasion I was willing to beat a meek retreat.

      The truth was that, very suddenly, and almost for the first time since the wounds of my assassination had finally healed, I did not feel at all well. The onset of the malaise had been so abrupt that I could only suppose it must be connected in some way with the blood I had just taken.

      One of my most immediate problems was that I found myself frozen in man-form, almost as if the sun had suddenly arisen. Therefore the two adolescents were able to see me in the moonlight as I went over the wall, and they were impressed with my agility. The boy was armed with a sword, and after briefly examining the maid they decided to follow me. A nearby tree, next to the wall, made the job easier.

      From what I could overhear of the remarks that passed between my reckless pursuers, as I staggered toward the horse I had left tethered nearby, I deduced that Lucrezia must have been carrying out some kind of a devilish medical or chemical experiment, and that the maid had been its subject. But my head was spinning; science did not interest me particularly—it would not, for many years—and I did not pay close attention.

      Besides, though daybreak was still far off, my illness had been suddenly compounded by an overwhelming urge to sleep. All I could think of was my nearest earth. Remounting my horse and clinging with some difficulty to his back, I turned him in the direction of the nearest of my earth boxes. Naturally I had memorized the locations of all such deposits put into place during the decades of my preparation.

      The particular box I was now seeking had been concealed, if the reports brought back by my most trustworthy lieutenants were to be credited, deep in a subterranean Etruscan ruin that lay then on the outskirts of Rome, and for all I know lies there still, now buried beneath the city itself.

      My goal was not far away in ordinary reckoning, but it made for a long ride that night in my condition, and attaining it was one of the most difficult experiences of a busy and interesting life. All my will and determination were required simply to stay awake. I was forced to ride slowly to keep myself from being thrown out of the saddle. At some point during the ride I became aware that the two young people had somehow obtained mounts and were still following me.

      I was too sick, too weary unto death, to fight or even to run from them. At long last I realized, by certain landmarks, that my desired earth, or the place where my earth should be, was close ahead. It was all that I could do to dismount without falling, drive my horse away, and drag myself into the cavity in the ground.

      A natural crevice in the earth, somewhat wider than a human body, emitted a faint smell of sulphur. The appearance of this crevice, from the vantage point of its grassy lip, suggested a bottomless abyss. In the minds of imaginative people of the time, hell might well lie at the bottom of such a hole, and none of the shepherds who were wont to tend their flocks nearby were likely to explore it. But twenty feet or so was the extreme depth to which the man-sized passageway descended. There was an enlarged chamber at that level, containing an Etruscan sarcophagus, some ancient, broken pottery, and very little else—except my precious trove of Transylvanian soil, spread out on a kind of earthen shelf.

      I dragged myself to the place where I could obtain rest, and there collapsed. I had just time, before lapsing into unconsciousness, to overhear a few more words from my pursuers, who had reached the opening above.

      Whoever the two precocious children were, if I correctly understood what they were saying, they had followed me deliberately, excited by the prospect of being able to see what secondary effect the poison in the young girl’s blood would have upon a vampire.

      Vampiro. That word, uttered in upper-class Italian, was the last I thought I heard, though of course in my drugged state I could hardly be sure. Fighting to the last to stay awake and on guard, I was nevertheless overcome.

Chapter Ten

      It was Angie who picked up the phone first when Joe called Maule’s apartment to report the results of his talk with Kaiser. She was able to tell Joe, in turn, some interesting bits of information regarding blood chemistry in vampires, that she’d picked up from listening to the old man’s tape. She and John had decided that Joe ought to be told, whatever the possible eavesdroppers might make of the information.

      It was about four in the afternoon when that call was completed. Sunset was still more than an hour away, but the cloudy sky, its brightness very gradually diminishing, made nightfall seem imminent.

      Joe on the phone had been modestly reassuring, but he had been as insistent as ever that they stay in the apartment and remain on guard, crushing any hope that their problems might be over.

      Within two minutes after Angie hung up the phone, the front door chime sounded, for the first time in many hours.

      John and Angie were both in the old man’s room at the time, occupying chairs, one on each side of his bed, and exchanging hopeful comments to the effect that he might soon be able to talk to them. His appearance, they agreed, had continued to improve, gradually but definitely. But he