Blood Autumn Page 23

  "The librarian at the Savannah library gave me your name when I expressed an interest in the occult. I need help on a matter, and I believe — I hope — that you may be able to assist me."

  "Ah, won't you come in then, Dr. O'Shaunessey?"

  "Thank you." Rose waved to the driver, indicating she would be staying, then followed the woman down a corridor to a door which opened onto a large room where bookcases from floor to ceiling lined two walls, and every shelf was so loaded with books that some were buckling slightly. Books and stacks of papers were scattered across the two mahogany desks there, the numerous small tables sitting about the room, and even the sofa and three easy chairs.

  "It's a mess," said Miss van Cleve, airily waving a hand, "but then I work here. I won't let the maid touch a thing, else she'd burn it all, I have no doubt."

  "I feel quite at home." Rose sympathized, for she wasn't possessed of a tidy nature, either.

  "Sit down, please, Dr. Shaunessey. Would you care for some tea?" Rose nodded, and the woman rang for an elderly black maid, who took her employer's instructions and left. "Now, would you like to tell me about this matter of the occult you think I can help you with?"

  Rose took a deep breath. "Yes, but first let me explain, Mrs. . . . Miss?" The other nodded. "Miss van Cleve. Please allow me to present my credentials. I am a physician presently employed at the Savannah Hospital, and have been there for over six months. If you wish to check with my employer for corroboration, please feel free to do so."

  "If I should think it necessary, I shall," Miss van Cleve drawled, her eyes showing her amusement, "but you wish me to know you're not an eccentric. Correct?"

  "Precisely." At least the woman hadn't thrown her out yet. She considered how best to broach the subject. "It's difficult to explain, Miss van Cleve, although I'll try to be as plain as possible. As for being objective, I doubt I can. If you have any questions, please feel free to ask me." The other woman nodded her head briefly.

  Rose took a deep breath and began her narrative. "The number of deaths in Savannah and the surrounding area has risen sharply in the past few weeks, and at first my colleague Dr. Maxwell and I attributed this to the dramatic rise in temperature. But as the deaths continued, we suspected there might be a secondary cause of death as well, an unknown disease perhaps. And we started to work toward identifying the disease. We were convinced we were on the right trail until we talked with Guy's uncle, who is a priest locally. You see, he had heard of a similar condition of victims before; in fact, he had friends die of the same condition — thirty years ago."

  At that moment the tea arrived, and they did not speak again until the maid had left the room.

  "Please continue, Dr. O'Shaunessey." Miss van Cleve's eyes were half-shut, and Rose wondered how much she had actually heard, but then the woman's eyes opened, and Rose knew she had heard everything.

  "We believe the deaths can be traced to one woman."

  "I see." Miss van Cleve sipped her tea for a moment, then drew out a small silver flask, uncapped it, and poured a tiny amount into her china cup. She laid a finger across her mouth and looked toward the door, indicating the maid might be listening. "You know, Doctor, women are always blamed for the various ills of mankind — and have been made to suffer for a guilt that was not theirs. The most famous examples, of course, are the witch hunts and subsequent burnings that began in the Middle Ages and continued through the Inquisition and into the last century."

  "I've seen this woman with my own eyes," Rose said.

  "What did you see?"

  "I had called her . . . challenged her aloud one night to come to me and we would fight — " Here Rose hesitated. If she claimed that August had seduced Guy away from her, wouldn't Miss van Cleve simply dismiss her as a jealous woman? "And we would fight for the soul of Guy. Dr. Maxwell," she added quickly.

  "I see."

  Neutral, she thought. So far. "And she came to me."

  "I see nothing unusual about that. There are recorded cases of people 'sensing' what others have thought. Too, if this woman has taken your friend away, she would doubtless know your mind and know that you wished to confront her face to face."

  "No. That's not it at all. She heard me — even though she lives outside the city, and she came to me. Not through the door, either."

  "Did you see that?" Miss van Cleve asked with quickening interest.

  "No," Rose admitted frankly. "I had been asleep and was awakened by a noise. She was in my room."

  "So she might well have entered by the door, or possibly even a window."

  "She might have, but she didn't."

  "And how do you know?"

  "I'm not the first to encounter her in this manner. The priest I mentioned, Father Daniel, has dealt with her before in this way."

  "I see."

  Rose was growing more and more irritated at this woman's bland expression and her doubting questions. She had half a mind to get up and walk out and —

  "Don't leave, Doctor, please," Miss van Cleve said, smiling. "I don't mean to irritate you, but I wish to investigate all possibilities. Because I question you doesn't mean I don't believe you. You say that the priest, Father Daniel, knew this woman before. Thirty years ago?"

  "Yes."

  "Could he possibly be mistaken about this woman's identity?"

  "No, Miss van Cleve. On this Father Daniel is quite adamant."

  "So," the other woman said, leaning back, "now we have a woman who appears quickly and without the benefit of using doors and windows, who can hear, or at least sense, the thoughts of others, and who kills men. I assume that all the victims were men."

  "Yes, they were. Most of them were young men, and some were boys. From what Father Daniel told me, she did the very same thing in London thirty years ago. Many of his friends died by her hand."

  "Yet he lived. Very interesting."

  "And she comes to the men in dreams. Father Daniel reported that he's had such dreams — I know Guy has, although he hasn't said anything to me, and Father Daniel also said that his friends reported sensual dreams about a woman — that particular woman — just prior to their deaths."

  "Is there anything else you can add? I am interested in everything, no matter how little or trivial you consider it."

  "Do you wish to know about the symptoms of the 'disease'?" The historian nodded. "The symptoms — here in Savannah, and in London, as I've gleaned from Father Daniel — include lassitude, a fever sometimes, what looks like a rash or small insect bite marks, with the cause of death being loss of blood."

  "Ah, that narrows the field considerably." Miss van Cleve poured more liquor into her teacup and took a solid sip of it. Rose smiled, for by now there could be little tea in the woman's drink. "Now it should be easier to identify what this woman is." She smiled at Rose. "We have a woman who is a seducer of men as well as a killer of men. And a woman who drains them of their blood. Yes, very interesting."

  "I wrote to my mother asking about Irish stories, and she mentioned the leanhaun sidhe."

  "An inspiration to poets."

  "Yes, that's just what she said, but Father Daniel and I don't think she is such a thing. Except, of course, he did show me a poem by Keats, 'La Belle Dame sans Merci,' which seems to have described her quite well."

  "Her type are always without mercy."

  " 'Her type'?" Rose asked, frowning slightly. "What type is she?"

  The other woman rose and walked across to one of the bookcases and scanned the shelves for a few minutes until she found the book she wanted. She brought the thick volume back, opened it in the middle, and carefully turned the pages. Miss van Cleve tapped an etching with one long finger. "This is what I think you have found, Dr. O'Shaunessey."

  Rose studied the picture, which showed a woman of a beautiful countenance with flowing black hair. She was menacing a small child who huddled in a corner. The caption read "Vampyr."

  "Vampyr?"

  "As in vampire." Miss van Cleve went to another bookcase,
returned with a second book, equally thick. "More specifically, I believe this individual you describe may be a lamia."

  "Lamia?" Rose asked, looking puzzled. "What's that? I've heard of a vampire, but not a lamia."

  "The word was used in the Vulgate Latin to translate the Hebrew Lilith, who was originally a Babylonian night spirit. In Hebrew lore Lilith was the first wife of Adam, and in the Book of Emek hammelech she was a spectral whore.

  "Numerous writers have mentioned the lamia: Gervais of Tilbury, about 1218, wrote about them; Nicholaus of Jauer, professor of theology at Prague and Heidelberg in the early decades of the fifteenth century, mentioned them in his work; and Johannes Pott in his 1689 study distinguished several kinds of lamiae." Miss van Cleve smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, Dr. O'Shaunessey. I tend to forget myself and lecture on."

  "No apologies are necessary, but I'm still not sure that I really know what a lamia is."

  "Succinctly, a lamia is a female vampire. Or nearly so. While she may drink the blood of her victim as does a vampire, she also possesses one singular capability a vampire does not. She draws out — forcefully, I might add — and feeds upon the sexual energy of her victim, and if I deduce correctly from what you've said and have not said, this individual also does the same. In other words, she kills her victims in two ways — both of them dreadful."

  Rose nodded, and wished that her hand holding the fragile teacup did not tremble so.

  "The Greeks and Romans used the lamia as a phantom to scare children. In classical mythology Lamia was a Libyan queen beloved by Jupiter but robbed of her offspring by Juno, and afterward she vowed vengeance against all children, whom she would entice and subsequently murder. She also had the power to seduce men and suck their blood. I recall that you said some of the victims were male children." Rose nodded, remembering the young boy from St. Mary's. "Keats wrote another poem, this one about a lamia — the poem is of the same name — although the woman in it is much more romanticized than legend portrays her, and she is never blamed for anything."

  The historian continued. "Variations exist, of course, Sometimes the lamia is a hideous woman of advanced age — as seen in the image of the old witches — sometimes a beautiful woman; sometimes she becomes ugly only after killing her victim. Unfortunately, less has been written about the lamia through the centuries than about vampires or witches. I suppose scholars did not find her as intriguing, or perhaps they censored their studies because of her highly sensual nature. Still, at least we do have some word of her and her sisters."

  "This woman is very beautiful, and Father Daniel said that he has seen her grow even more beautiful at certain times."

  "No doubt after she has killed her victims. Their life regenerates her."

  "The fountain of youth," Rose said.

  "Yes, much like that, although far more ghastly, I would think."

  "You think, then, that this woman is a lamia?" Rose asked.

  "I am almost one-hundred-percent sure, Dr. O'Shaunessey, particularly if what you've given me is completely factual. Are all men who meet her attracted to her?"

  "Yes. When she enters a room, not a man stays away from her."

  Miss van Cleve's tone was ironic. "There are women who can do that, and they aren't lamiae."

  "I don't think they do it the way she does." Rose finished her tea and set the cup down carefully. "You know, Father Daniel fears that she will come after him."

  "Because she didn't thirty years ago?" Rose nodded. "And is Father Daniel attracted to her as well? You say that all men are."

  "That's strange, but he isn't drawn to her like the others are. At first he was; then, he said, he began to sense something . . . wrong about her, something about her that put him off. He didn't know why until later. Much later. I must explain, too, that thirty years ago, when he first met her, he wasn't a priest."

  "But he became a priest afterward. Most intriguing." Miss van Cleve fell silent for several minutes, then finally stirred, as if she recalled she had a visitor. "I would like to meet this woman if possible, to view her myself, you see."

  "I think we could arrange it as she is very active socially. I would have to check with Father Daniel, though, and contact you later in the week. Would that be convenient?"

  "Of course. This should prove very informative."

  "But she's deadly," Rose blurted out, immediately wishing she'd kept silent.

  "Yes, I know. We cannot forget her deadliness at any time, Dr. O'Shaunessey. Too, while lamiae usually choose men as their victims, upon occasion they have shown themselves to women just prior to killing them. This is, I believe, fairly uncommon, though."

  With a sudden rush of blood to her cheeks, Rose remembered the night August Justinian came to her. "Yes, I know. She came to me, as I said, and at first I wasn't sure whether it was a dream. I don't think so, not after what Father Daniel told me."

  "Be careful. Dr. O'Shaunessey. That shows that she is quite aware of you."

  Rose shivered, not liking the sound of that. She rose slowly and shook hands with the other woman. "Thank you for the tea and for the information, and for allowing me to take your time unannounced as I did. I'll be in contact with you by the end of the week, Miss van Cleve."

  "Very well."

  At the door Rose paused. "By the way, I've heard that to kill a vampire you must drive a wooden stake through its heart, cut off his head, and then stuff its mouth with garlic. What does one do with a lamia? How is it destroyed?"

  "That, I'm afraid, not one of the historical sources has relayed through the centuries to us. I think we'll have to discover that on our own."

  She thanked the historian again, then left the plantation house and walked out to find the carriage waiting for her. She climbed in, and as the carriage rolled away she looked back to see Miss van Cleve wave. She waved in response, then closed her eyes.

  She had learned what August Justinian was, but the most crucial information — how to destroy the lamia — no one knew, and suddenly Rose feared that her trip might have been made for nought. .

  *

  "We have to tell Guy what she is," Rose said quietly. She had returned to the hospital after visiting with S.A. van Cleve, and then she had gone to see Father Daniel. He was looking pale and seemed weak, far weaker than when she last saw him. He denied that August was visiting him at night — except in dreams. Rose didn't know whether to believe him; Guy lied to her, after all.

  "Yes, I know. He'll fight the idea, though," the priest said, his voice weary.

  "I know, but we have to try to set him right. I'll bring him tonight, along with a few other things," she replied grimly.

  Daniel nodded, and she bid him farewell.

  When she found Guy at the hospital, they chatted for a few minutes; then she told him that it was very important that she see him at his uncle's later that evening. At first he was reluctant to agree to meet her there, but she kept after him, and finally he gave in. It saddened Rose because months before he would have been suggesting ways to meet her after work. Now he had to be forced to do it. No use thinking about that, she told herself, it would just bring more pain.

  "What's this meeting about?" Guy asked.

  "You'll see when you arrive," she said, hedging a little.

  "Rose, please, I'm very busy ... I have to know what you want."

  "I'm busy, too, Guy. You'll just have to be patient, I'm afraid."

  "Oh, all right," he snapped, then turned his back on her.

  She pressed her lips together and returned to work. Finally, when she left the hospital by herself, she set about locating the items she needed.

  The late afternoon air was hot and damp and motionless. Overhead, dark clouds with a faint greenish cast rolled through the hazy sky as Rose went about her errands. Occasionally lightning glimmered in the sky, followed almost at once by a deep rumble of thunder that seemed to shake the very foundation of the earth.

  If only it would rain, she thought, then this terrible heat would break and the
y would all feel better. The danger would still exist, yes, but they might be better able to handle it. She feared, though, that once more the storm would pass over them.

  No rain came, and the heat continued building until she reached Father Daniel's room, and once she stepped over the threshold she found the closeness as unbearable as a blast furnace. Momentarily she swayed, then recovered and greeted the priest. They chatted while they waited for Guy, and much to Rose's surprise they didn't have long to wait before he arrived.

  "Now, what's all this nonsense about a secret meeting?" he demanded once he'd sat.

  Briefly she outlined her visit to S.A. van Cleve. Father Daniel had heard it earlier and listened quietly again, while Guy frowned as she spoke. When she was finished with her narrative, she leaned back in her chair and studied him.

  "I don't understand," Guy said. "What about the disease?"

  "There is no disease," Rose said.

  "You lied." It was a flat statement. He looked first at Rose, then at Father Daniel. "You both lied to me. Deliberately."

  "Yes," she said, although it hurt her to admit it. "We had to. Initially, you wouldn't have believed us, and we had to wait until a good time to tell you."

  The priest fingered his rosary as he watched the couple.

  "I don't believe you now, Rose. This is absolutely preposterous! Good God, whatever can you be thinking of? A lamia? In the nineteenth century? Come, come. How the hell did you concoct this story?" He tried to laugh, but the attempt failed, and Rose could see that he was nervous and that he believed more of what she'd said than he wanted to admit.

  "You know it's true," she said. "That woman has been visiting you. I know it for a fact, even though I've never caught you two." Guy blushed, dropped his eyes, his expression telling her she spoke the truth. "It's not your fault, Guy, for lying to me or for deceiving your uncle and me. You're under her spell. Father, please, tell him what you know."

  Father Daniel nodded and launched into the story he had told Rose before. Guy listened, his eyes still downcast, until Daniel had finished.