Igor pushed his way through the crowd until he was alongside Nanny.
‘It’th all right,’ he said, ‘I couldn’t let it go on, it wath dithgratheful. . .’
The mist rose in a boiling tower, there was a moment of discontinuity, a feeling of sliced time, and then a figure stood behind Vlad and Lacrimosa. He was rather taller than most men, and wearing evening dress that might have been in style once upon a time. His hair was streaked with grey and brushed back over his ears in a way that gave the impression his head had been designed for its aerodynamic efficiency.
Beautifully manicured hands gripped the shoulders of the younger vampires. Lacrimosa turned to scratch him, and cowered when he snarled like a tiger.
Then the face returned to something closer to human, arid the newcomer smiled. He seemed genuinely pleased to see everyone.
‘Good morning,’ he said.
‘Another bloody vampire?’ said Nanny.
‘Not any old vampire,’ said Igor, hopping from one foot to the other. ‘It’th the old marthter! Old Red Eyeth ith back!’
Granny stood up, ignoring the tall figure firmly holding the two suddenly docile vampires. She advanced on the Count.
‘I know all about what you can and can’t do,’ she said, ‘because you let me in. An’ that means you can’t do what I can’t do. An’ you think just like me, the difference bein’ I’ve done it longer and I’m better’n you at it.’
‘You’re meat,’ snarled the Count. ‘Clever meat!’
‘And you invited me in,’ said Granny. ‘I’m not the sort to go where I’m not welcome, I’m sure.’
In the Count’s arms the baby started to cry. He stood up.
‘How sure are you that I won’t harm this child?’ he said.
‘I wouldn’t. So you can’t.’
The Count’s face contorted as he wrestled with his feelings and also with Magrat, who was kicking him on the shins.
‘It could have worked. . .’ he said, and for the first time the certainty had been drained from his voice.
‘You mean it could have worked for you!’ shouted Agnes.
‘We are vampires. We cannot help what we are.’
‘Only animals can’t help what they are,’ said Granny. ‘Will you give me the child now?’
‘If I . . .’the Count began, and then straightened up. ‘No! I don’t have to bargain! I can fight you, just as you fought me! And if I walk out of here now, I don’t think there’s anyone who’ll dare stop me. Look at you . . . all of you . . . and look at me. And now look at . . . him.’ He nodded at the figure holding Vlad and Lacrimosa as still as statues. ‘Is that what you want?’
‘Sorry . . . who is this we’re supposed to be looking at?’ said Granny. ‘Oh . . . Igor’s “old master”? The old Count Magpyr, I believe.’
The old Count nodded gracefully. ‘Your servant, madam,’ he said.
‘I doubt it,’ said Granny.
‘Oh, no one minded him,’ said Piotr, from among the Escrow citizens. ‘He only ever came round every few years and anyway if you remembered about the garlic he wasn’t a problem. He didn’t expect us to like him.’
The old Count smiled at him.
‘You look familiar. One of the Ravi family, aren’t you?’
‘Piotr, sir. Son of Hans.’
‘Ah, yes. Very similar bone structure. Do remember me to your grandmother.’
‘She passed away ten years ago, sir.’
‘Oh, really? I am so sorry. Time goes so quickly when you’re dead.’ The old master sighed. ‘A very fine figure in a nightdress, as I recall.’
‘Oh, he was all right,’ said someone else in the crowd. ‘We got a nip every now and again but we got over it.’
‘That’s a familiar voice,’ said the vampire. ‘Are you a Veyzen?’
‘Yessir.’
‘Related to Arno Veyzen?’
‘Great-granddaddy, sir.’
‘Good man. Killed me stone dead seventy-five years ago. Stake right through the heart from twenty paces. You should be proud.’
The man in the crowd beamed with ancestral pride.
‘We’ve still got the stake hung up over the fireplace, yer honour,’ he said.
‘Well done. Good man. I like to see the old ways kept up’
Count Magpyr screamed.
‘You can’t possibly prefer that?! He’s a monster!’
‘But he never made an appointment!’ shouted Agnes, even louder. ‘I bet he never thought it was all just an arrangement!’
Count Magpyr was edging towards the door with his hostages.
‘No,’ he said, ‘this is not how it’s going to happen. If anyone really believes that I won’t harm my charming hostages, perhaps you will try to stop me? Does anyone really believe that old woman?’
Nanny Ogg opened her mouth, caught Granny’s eye, and shut it again. The crowd parted behind the Count as he dragged Magrat towards the door.
He walked into the figure of Mightily Oats.
‘Have you ever thought of letting Om into your life?’ said the priest. His voice trembled. His face glistened with sweat.
‘Oh . . . you again?’ said the Count. ‘If I can resist her, little boy, you are not a problem!’
Oats held his axe before him as if it was made of some rare and delicate metal.
‘Begone, foul fiend-‘ he began.
‘Oh, dear me,’ said the Count, thrusting the axe aside. ‘And don’t you learn anything, you stupid man? Little stupid man who has a little stupid faith in a little stupid god?’
‘But it . . . lets me see things as they are,’ Oats managed.
‘Really? And you think you can stand in my way? An axe isn’t even a holy symbol!’
‘Oh.’ Oats looked crestfallen. Agnes saw his
shoulders sag as he lowered the blade.
Then he looked up, smiled brightly and said, ‘Let’s make it so.’
Agnes saw the blade leave a gold trail in the air as it swept around. There was a soft, almost silken sound.
The axe dropped on to the flagstones. In the sudden silence it clanged like a bell. Then Oats reached out and snatched the child from the vampire’s unresisting hands. He held her out to Magrat, who took her in shocked silence.
The first sound after that was the rustle of Granny’s dress as she stood up and walked over to the axe. She nudged it with her foot.
‘If I’ve got a fault,’ she said, contriving to suggest that this was only a theoretical possibility, ‘it’s not knowing when to turn and run. And I tends to bluff on a weak hand.’
Her voice echoed in the hall. No one else had even breathed out yet.
She nodded at the Count, who’d slowly raised his hands to the red wound that ran all around his neck.
‘It was a sharp axe,’ she said. ‘Who says there’s no mercy in the world? Just don’t nod, that’s all. And someone’ll take you down to a nice cold coffin and I daresay fifty years’ll just fly past and maybe you’ll wake with enough sense to be stupid.’
There was a murmur from the mob as they came back to life. Granny shook her head.
‘They want you deader than that, I see,’ she said, as the Count gazed ahead of him with frozen,
desperate eyes and the blood welled and seeped between his fingers. ‘An’ there’s ways. Oh, yes. We could burn you to ashes and scatter them in the sea-‘
This met with a general sigh of approval.
‘-or throw ’em up in the air in the middle of a gale-‘
This got a smattering of applause.
‘-or just pay some sailor to drop you over the edge.’ This even got a few whistles. ‘Of course, you’d come back alive again, I suppose, one day. But just floating in space for millions of years, oh, that sounds very boring to me.’ She raised a hand to silence the crowd.
‘No. Fifty years to think about things, that’s about right. People need vampires,’ she said. ‘They helps ’em remember what stakes and garlic are for.’
She snapped her fingers at the crowd. ‘Come on, two of you take him down to the vaults. Show some respect for the dead-‘
‘That’s not enough!’ said Piotr, stepping forward. ‘Not after all he-‘
‘Then when he comes back you deal with him yourself,’ snapped Granny loudly. ‘Teach your children! Don’t trust the cannibal just ‘cos he’s usin’ a knife and fork! And remember that vampires don’t go where they’re not invited!’
They backed away. Granny relaxed a little.
‘This time round, it’s up to me. My . . . choice.’ She leaned closer to the Count’s horrible grimace. ‘You tried to take my mind away from me,’ she said in a lower voice. ‘And that’s
everything to me. Reflect on that. Try to learn.’ She stood back. ‘Take him away.’
She turned away, to the tall figure. ‘So . . . you’re the old master, are you?’ she said.
‘Alison Weatherwax?’ said the old master. ‘I have a good memory for necks.’