An Old Friend Of The Family (Saberhagen's Dracula Book 3), Fred Saberhagen [best large ereader .txt] 📗

   “I have claimed no titles or honors here among you, have I?”

   “Nor has he—you say he is here now, too.”

   “He is here. And you may be sure that he will claim honors—and obedience—if he wins. But all I ask is that you leave it to ourselves to settle.” The fine voice paused. “No, let me be plainer than that. I insist that you give him no help, and above all no place of sanctuary. Any of you who dare to do so will feel our wrath in days to come. His time is past, and none should look to him for leadership.”

   “I hope that all of you are listening,” said the huge man’s voice, rough and elemental, like something from a thundercloud. And Johnny felt the world slip from him into darkness.

CHAPTER NINE

   More often than not, Judy slept with the drapes of her bedroom window drawn open, and so it was tonight. Starlight and moonlight from the high sky above the lake were welcome, and dawn too, on the rare occasions that it roused her. There was no reasonable way that any human being could look in, on the second story. So when she awoke, near midnight, she wondered for a moment if it could be some trick of starlight from the new-cleared sky that made it appear that the old man, yesterday’s brief visitor, was sitting in her dressing-table chair.

   “Have I frightened you, Judy?” The voice of the apparition was quite matter-of-fact.

   “No, I don’t scare easily.” Actually she was beginning to wonder if she was dreaming. Judy turned to face her visitor more directly as she sat up in her bed. Automatically her hands pulled sheet and blanket up close beneath her chin, and she felt her fingers touch her nightgown’s throat, to make sure that it was buttoned. “But how did you get in?”

   “I was invited, yesterday, into this house. And in my case one invitation is enough, you see. It has a permanent effect.”

   “I don’t think I do see.” But truly she was not afraid of him. She wondered a little, now, and later was to wonder more, about this lack of fear.

   “Of course I have not been invited into your room. Shall I apologize for being here?”

   “No, I don’t mind. That is, I suppose you must have some good reason.”

   The old man made a little hissing sound not quite a sigh, and shifted in his chair. “I need a little help. I thought of waking Clarissa—but when I remembered your delightful lack of fear yesterday afternoon I came to you instead.”

   “A good thing you did. Gran’s had angina. But what was there yesterday afternoon to be afraid of?”

   This time the little hiss was almost a chuckle. “People can be very timid. Sometimes they are even afraid of me. Believe it or not.”

   “Why?”

   “And one might think that these monstrous attacks upon your family would frighten you. Your mother and grandmother are both terrified, and your unhappy father is at the end of his wits, as the saying goes.”

   “Oh, it’s not really that I’m so brave. It’s…” Judy had to pause. She had never really tried before to put into words the way she dealt with fear. “It’s just that when you’re really scared, the only thing to do is try to go beyond the fear somehow. Accept it, maybe that’s what I mean. And then go on your own way regardless.” Now that she had found words, they did seem right, or almost right, to her. She would not have expected someone else to understand them, though.

   But the old man was leaning forward in his chair, nodding. “’Go on our own way, regardless.’ I think it wonderful that you, at our age, already understand that. It does not, of course, imply freedom from moral responsibility.”

   His voice had a marveling intensity that made Judy feel uncomfortable.  She asked: “What is it you need help with?”

   “Help? Ah, yes.” The old man leaned back in his chair, and gave his little sigh. “I want some of Kate’s clothing. A complete outfit will be best.”

   “What for?”

   “Questions will not help me in what I am trying to do. The clothing may.”

   Judy considered for a moment, then swung legs swathed in a long chaste winter nightgown out of the bed. She groped with her toes for slippers. “A complete outfit. Underwear too?”

   “Everything, please. As if you were helping her get dressed.”

   “All right. Wait here.” Belting a robe around her, Judy went out of her room and down the familiar upstairs hall to Kate’s. There she rummaged mechanically in drawers and closet. What am I doing here? she thought. I’m definitely awake now. Was I dreaming, after all, a minute ago? Will he still be there when I get back?

   Trusting her instincts, she finished gathering the clothes before she hurried back to her own room. The old man waited for her, solid as the chair he sat on, dressed as he had been yesterday in a black topcoat over a dark suit. His soft, dark hat was in his lap.

    “Here,” said Judy. “I even got a bra, though more often than not Kate doesn’t wear one.”

   “Ah,” said the old man. The word was not exactly embarrassed, but perhaps he didn’t know just what to say. He got up from his chair and held open a small, dark bag that Judy had not noticed before. Into it she dropped the clothing bundle. “Now,” he said, tucking the bag under one arm, “since we are co-operating so well, do you suppose it might be possible to obtain the key to the family mausoleum in Lockwood Cemetery?”

   “What for?” Again she asked the question automatically. But this time thinking it over only confirmed her right to ask. Hands jammed in the pockets of her robe, she stood waiting for an answer.

   The old