“In that case, how do you explain her death?”
“You are quite sure that it was her body?”
“Absolutely.”
Geijerstam was silent for several moments. Then he said: “There are two possible explanations. It is possible that this was a kind of accident.”
“What kind?”
“You could call it a mistake. Sometimes, a vampire is so greedy for energy that the life force flows the wrong way — back to the victim instead of from him. You could compare it to a glutton swallowing food the wrong way.”
“And the other possibility?”
“Ah, that is one I have never encountered. The Greeks and the Armenians insist that the vampire can abandon its body voluntarily, to create an impression of death.”
“Do you think that possible?”
“I. . . I believe that a vampire could exist for a short time outside a living body.”
“Why only for a short time?”
“Briefly — because it would require immense energy and concentration to maintain individuality outside a living body. Among occultists, there is a technique known as astral projection, which is in many ways similar.”
Fallada leaned forward. “Do you think a vampire could take over someone else’s body?”
Geijerstam frowned, staring at the carpet. He said finally: “It may be possible. We know that people can be possessed by evil spirits — I have actually dealt with three such cases. And of course, possession would be the logical conclusion of vampirism, which is a desire to possess and absorb. Yet I have never heard of such a case.”
Carlsen said with sudden excitement: “These cases of possession by evil spirits — did they destroy the persons they possessed?”
“In one case, he became permanently insane. The other two were cured by exorcism.”
Carlsen turned to Fallada. “Could that be the explanation of what happened to Clapperton? If one of these things possessed him without actually killing him, he’d be aware of what was taking place, even if he couldn’t resist it. They’d have to destroy him finally. He’d know too much about them.”
The Count asked: “Who is this man?” Fallada summarised the story of the girl found on the railway line, of Clapperton’s disappearance and suicide. Geijerstam listened carefully without interrupting. He said: “I would guess that the Commander is right. This man Clapperton was possessed by one of these creatures. He may have committed suicide to escape.”
Fallada said: “Or was driven to it.”
None of them spoke for a moment, staring into the collapsing logs of the fire. Geijerstam said: “Well, I will do what I can to help you. I can tell you all I know of vampires. But I am not sure whether this would be of any use in this case.”
Fallada said: “The more we know of these things, the better. We’re working against time. Suppose the other aliens on the Stranger managed to get back to earth?”
Geijerstam shook his head. “That is impossible.”
“Why?”
“Because it is a characteristic of vampires that they must be invited. They cannot take the initiative.”
Fallada asked with a note of incredulity: “But why?”
“I am not certain. But it seems to be so.”
He was interrupted by the sound of a gong from the hall. None of them moved. When the noise ceased, they heard the voices of the girls on the stairs. Carlsen said: “But it’s possible they may be invited. The Prime Minister of England wants to get the Stranger back to earth. He thinks it may be of historical value.”
“Does he not know what you have told me?”
“Yes. But he’s pig-headed. He probably thinks that if we don’t do it, the Russians or the Arabs might step in and take all the credit.”
“You must stop him.”
“He’s given us a few months. In that time, we have to try to locate the other three aliens. Any idea where we might begin?”
Geijerstam thought for several moments, his eyes half closed. He sighed and shook his head.
“Offhand, no. Fallada and Carlsen stared at one another gloomily. “But let us talk about it. There must be a way. I will do what I can. Now let us go and eat.”
The dining room was smaller than the library, but the great oak table could easily have seated forty guests. Two of its panelled walls were covered with tapestries, each about twelve feet square. A crystal chandelier, suspended from the central beam of the ceiling, was reflected in two immense mirrors, one above the fireplace and one in the opposite wall.
The girls were already seated. The manservant was pouring Moselle into the tall, green-tinted glasses.
Geijerstam pointed to the central tapestry. “That is our famous vampire, Count Magnus de la Gardie.”
The portrait was of a powerfully built man in military dress, with a metal breastplate. The eyes stared down with the expression of a man used to command. Under the heavy moustache, the thin lips were tightly closed.
Miss Bengtsson said: “Your English ghost writer M. R. James has a story about Magnus. We have it here in Swedish.”
“Is it accurate?”
Geijerstam said: “Remarkably accurate. James came to this house — we have his signature in the visitor’s book.”
Carlsen asked: “What did Magnus do?”
“Basically, he was a sadist. There was a peasants’ revolt in Västergötland in 1690, and the king appointed Magnus to deal with it. Magnus repressed it so bloodily that even the courtiers were shocked. They say he executed more than four thousand people — half the population of the southern province. The king — Charles the Eleventh — was angry because it meant that he lost taxes. So Magnus was banished from court in disgrace. According to the legend, it was then that he decided to make the Black Pilgrimage to Chorazin. Chorazin was a village in Hungary where the inhabitants were all supposed to be in league with the devil. We have a manuscript in Magnus’s handwriting, and it actually says: ‘He who wishes to drink the blood of his enemies and obtain faithful servants should voyage to the town of Chorazin and pay homage to the Prince of the Air.’ ”
Fallada said: “That probably explains the vampire legend — the phrase about drinking the blood of his enemies.”
“That is impossible. To begin with, the manuscript is in Latin, and it was found among various alchemical works in the North Tower. I doubt whether anyone read it for half a century after his death. Secondly, he is referred to in a manuscript in the Royal Library as a vampire.”
“Did he make the Black Pilgrimage?”
“We do not know, but it is almost certain.”
Fallada said: “And you think that turned him into a vampire?”
“Ah, that is a difficult question. Magnus was a sadist already, and he was in a position of power. I believe that such men easily develop into vampires — energy vampires. They derive pleasure from causing terror and drinking the vitality of their victims. So he was probably a kind of vampire before he made the Black Pilgrimage. But when he decided to make the Black Pilgrimage, he made a deliberate choice of evil. From then on, it was no longer a matter of wicked impulses, but of conscious, deliberately planned cruelty.”
“But what did he do?”
“Tortured peasants, burned down houses. They say he had two poachers skinned alive.”
“Which makes it sound as if he was a sadistic psychopath rather than a vampire.”
“I agree. It was after his death that he became known as a vampire. I have an eighteenth-century account book, written by a steward, that says ‘The labourers insist on being home before dark, since Count Magnus was seen in the churchyard.’ They say he left his mausoleum on nights of the full moon.”
“And is there any evidence of vampirism after his death?”
“Some. The records of the church in Stensel mention the burial of a poacher who was found on the island with his face eaten away. His family paid for three masses to ‘rescue his soul from the evil one.’ Then there was the wife of a coach maker in Storavan who was burnt as a witch; she claimed that Count Magnus was her lover and had taught her to drink the blood of children.”
They had finished the first course; Fallada, who had been sitting with his back to the tapestry, now stood up to look at it more closely. After staring up at it for several minutes, he said: “To be honest, I find it difficult to take the idea seriously. I accept what you say about energy vampires, because my own experiments lead me to the same conclusion. But all this is legend, and I find it hard to take it seriously.”
Geijerstam said: “You should not underestimate legends.”
“In other words, there’s no smoke without fire?”
“I think so. How do you explain the great vampire epidemic that swept across Europe at the beginning of the eighteenth century? Ten years earlier, vampires were almost unknown. And then, quite suddenly, you begin to get stories of creatures who come back from the dead and drink human blood. In 1730, there was a kind of plague of vampirism from Greece to the Baltic Sea — hundreds of reports. The first book on vampirism was not written until ten years later, so you cannot lay the blame on imaginative writers.”