And books! Shelf upon shelf of them, most of them crumbling – and many quite obviously valuable – but all rescued by Giresci wherever he had found them over the years: in sales, old bookshops and antique shops, or from estates fallen into poverty or ruin along with the once-powerful aristocracy. All in all, the house was a small museum in itself, and Giresci the sole keeper and curator.
‘This arquebusier,’ Dragosani remarked at one point, ‘must be worth a small fortune!’
To a museum or a collector, possibly,’ said his host. ‘I’ve never looked into the question of value. But how’s this for a weapon?’ And he handed Dragosani a crossbow.
Dragosani took it, weighed it in his hand, frowned. The weapon was fairly modern, heavy, probably as accurate as a rifle, and very deadly. The interesting thing was that its ‘bolt’ was of wood, possibly lignum vitae, with a tip of polished steel. Also, it was loaded. ‘It certainly doesn’t fit in with the rest of your stuff,’ he said.
Giresci grinned, showing strong square teeth. ‘Oh but
it does! My “other stuff’, as you put it, tells what was, what might still be. This crossbow is my answer to it. A deterrent. A weapon against it.’
Dragosani nodded. ‘A wooden stake through the heart, eh? And would you really hunt a vampire with this?’
Giresci grinned again, shook his head. ‘Nothing so foolish,’ he said. ‘Anyone who seeks to hunt down a vampire has to be a madman! I am merely eccentric. Hunt one? Never! But what if a vampire decided to hunt me? Call it self-protection, if you will. Anyway, I feel happier with it in the house.’
‘But why would you fear such a thing? I mean – all right, I’m in agreement with you that such creatures have existed and still do, possibly – but why would one of them bother itself with you?’
‘If you were a secret agent,’ said Giresci, (at which Dragosani smiled inside) ‘would you be happy – would you ever feel safe – knowing that some outsider knew your business, your secrets? Of course you wouldn’t. And what of the Wamphyri? Now … I think that perhaps the risk is a very small one – but twenty years ago when I bought this weapon I wasn’t so sure. I had seen something which would stay with me for the rest of my life. Such creatures really were, yes, and I knew about them. And the more I looked into their legend, their history, the more monstrous they became. In those days I could not sleep for my nightmares. Buying the crossbow was like whistling in the dark, I suppose: it might not keep away the dark forces, but at least it would let them know that I wasn’t afraid of them!’
‘Even if you were?’ said Dragosani.
Giresci’s keen eyes looked deep into his own. ‘Of course I was,’ he finally answered. ‘What? Here in Romania? Here under these mountains? In this house, where I’ve amassed and studied the evidence? I was frightened, yes. But now
‘Now?’
The other pulled a half-disappointed face. ‘Well I’m still here, alive after all these years. Nothing has “happened” to me, has it? And so now . . . now I think that maybe they are, after all, extinct. Oh, they existed – if anyone knows that, I do – but perhaps the last of them has gone forever. I hope so, anyway. But what about you? What do you say, Dragosani?’
Dragosani gave the weapon back. ‘I say keep your crossbow, Ladislau Giresci. And I say look to its maintenance. Also, I say be careful who you invite into your house!’
He reached into his inside pocket for a packet of cigarettes, froze as Giresci aimed the crossbow directly at his heart across a distance of only six or seven feet and took off the safety catch. ‘But I am careful,’ said the other, still staring directly into his eyes. ‘We apparently know so much, you and I. I know why I believe, but what of you?’
‘Me?’ inside his jacket, Dragosani slipped his issue pistol from its under-arm holster.
‘A stranger in search of a legend, apparently. But such a knowing stranger!’