At that a thought came into Dragosani’s mind – but he suppressed it at once. ‘One last question,’ he said darkly. Very well, if you must.
‘The legend has it that the vampire’s bite turns ordinary men into vampires. If you were to draw my blood, old one, would I become as you – undead?’
A long pause, through which Dragosani sensed something of confusion, a mental scrabbling for an answer. And finally:
There was a time in the world’s youth when the forests were alive with great bats, as they were with all sorts of creatures. Disease destroyed most of them – a specific disease, and horrible – but some learned to live with it. In my day a species existed which drew the blood of other animals, including men. Since the bats were carriers of the disease, they passed it on to those they bit, and the infected victims were seen to take on certain characteristics which –
‘Stop!’ said Dragosani. ‘You mean the vampire bat, which still exists in Central and South America even today? Obviously you do. The disease is rabies. But. . . I don’t see the connection.’
The thing in the ground chose to ignore his scepticism, said: America?
‘A new land,’ Dragosani explained. ‘They hadn’t found it in your day. It’s vast and rich and . . . very, very powerful!’
Ah? You say so? Well! And you must describe this entire new world of yours in more detail – but on some other occasion. As for now . . . I am tired, and –
‘Not so fast!’ cried Dragosani, aware that the conversation had strayed. ‘Are you saying I wouldn’t become a vampire if you bit me? Are you trying to say that the legend is unfounded, except upon this supposed connection with vampire bats? That won’t wash, old devil! No, for the bat was named after you, not you after the bat!’
Another pause – but not so long as to give the other too much time to think over what he had said – and Dragosani quickly continued: ‘You asked me if I desired to be of the Wamphyri. And how would you make me a Wamphyr if not in this way? Could I be “invested” with it, then, as you were once invested with the Order of the Dragon? Hah! No more lies, old devil. I want only the truth. And if you really are my “father”, why do you hold the truth back? What do you fear?’
Dragosani felt the disapproval of the unseen presences, sensed them drawing back from him. In his mind the other’s voice was indeed tired now – and accusing. You promised me a gift, a small tribute, and brought me only weariness and torment. I am a spark that grows dim, my son, an ember that expires. You have kept the flickering flame alive, and would you now snuff it out? Let me sleep now, if you would not . . . exhaust . . . me . . . utterly . . . Dragosaaniiii. . .
Dragosani clenched his teeth, growled his frustration low in his throat, snatched up the piglet by its hind legs. He jumped to his feet, took out a switchblade and snapped it open. The blade glittered sharp as a razor. ‘Your gift!’ he snapped.
The piglet struggled, squealed once. Dragosani slit its throat, let the scarlet blood spray out, then drain on to the dark earth. A wind at once sprang up that sighed in the pines with a voice not unlike that of the thing in the ground: Ahhh!
Dragosani tossed the piglet’s corpse down in tangled rootlets, stepped back from it, took out a handkerchief and cleaned his hands. The unseen presences crept forward.
‘Back!’ Dragosani snapped, turning on his heel to leave. ‘Back, you ghosts of men. It’s for him, not you.’
Descending through the pines in total darkness, Dragosani was sure-footed as a cat. In his way, he too was a creature of the night. But a live one. And thinking of life, death, undeath, he smiled an emotionless smile into the darkness as he considered again the one question he had not asked: How might one kill a vampire? Kill it dead.