Page 51 of Whispers at Dusk
He smiled, appearing truly happy for a minute. “You are such a fool. They should lock you up. You don’t begin to understand. And now, when it is your turn, you will truly twist and turn in agony in all the blazes of the Master’s fire, far worse than any hell you might have imagined. You don’t see the truth at all. You don’t understand. The Master is...the greatest god. We serve him. And for our service, we are rewarded. But...now, I am not rewarded. So, I promise you, when I am free, I will find you. Wherever you may be.”
“I’m not terribly worried,” Della told him with a shrug. She leaned forward, smiling. “I switched glasses with you at the bar. My partner and I took you down easily enough...but here is something. If you help us, we’ll help you. Now, when the forensic department goes through your bag of tricks along with all your paraphernalia for bloodletting, they’re going to find fangs. Human teeth, sharpened to appear to be vampire fangs. And they’ll find saliva and DNA that doesn’t belong to you or to Maryanne. It will probably belong to another dead man, a prisoner who died while incarcerated. So let me help you. You help me. How did you get it?”
“The Master, of course.”
“The Master. So, the Master was here, in Norway?”
He shrugged. “The Master is like the mist that falls at night. He comes and goes—he is wherever he pleases to be.”
“So, um, hmm. He can turn into a bat? He can be invisible? Wait, I’m not even sure what the real specs are on a vampire. Though, honestly, it sounds as if someone read Bram Stoker’s book just a few times too many.” She dropped her pleasant tone. “A name—we need a name.”
She was surprised when he stared at her with real confusion. “His name is... Master. Some like to call him Dracula, but he will be the first to explain that Vlad Dracul was born in 1431 in the town of Sighisoara, which was in Hungary, if I remember right, at the time. He was Vlad the Impaler. He was inspiration for many rulers. He was strong—he saved his people. But the Master doesn’t have to go by a name, he is simply Master. And he wasn’t born, he was created—a burst of life and energy, a being of blood and eternity.”
“Fine. But you did see him here? We have your passports. We’ll know where you’ve been.”
He started to laugh. “Good for you. You have our passports.”
“We will find where you’ve been staying and search through everything you own. We’ll find all your passports and aliases,” Della assured him. “You can answer me, or I’ll figure it out. The more I have to figure out, the less I’ll suggest any kind of clemency for you—no matter what country winds up with you.”
“I stay here!” he said, lunging forward. “I didn’t kill—Maryanne didn’t kill—anyone in any other country. I will stay here!”
“We will see about that, won’t we? Because I believe we’ll discover you were both in England and France—where murders just like yours took place.”
“No! Don’t you understand! We are a family in blood! Bitch!” He swore at her.
“Where did you meet with your Master?” she demanded again.
He leaned back. “Here, right here, right on the street. I met with the Master here. But he is gone, gone like the mist. We were about to be eternal!” She thought he was going to cry. Instead, he flew into a rage. “You! You are the destroyer! And you will bleed and bleed, and I will see to it you die the most brutal death, and your flesh is seared, and you are broken and beaten in torture forever!”
She smiled pleasantly and stood. “Good luck with that,” she told him. “And goodbye.”
She hadn’t expected he would give her what they really needed.
She believed he didn’t know his Master’s name.
But he had given her far more than she had expected—and what Mason had theorized. The “Vampire Master” was creating a family, a clan, convincing the vulnerable they could achieve immortal life. Most importantly, they now knew the so-called Master was providing the saliva DNA for the teeth. Angela could check prison visitation records.
And that meant he could be found.
As she stepped out of the room, she saw the British detective Taylor was standing in the hall, waiting for her.
“They committed the murders here,” she said. “He confessed but claims he didn’t murder anyone in another country.”
“I know,” Edmund said quietly.
She frowned and he continued, “I just received a call from my superiors. There’s been anothervampiremurder in England. Elizabeth MacDougall. Drained of blood, laid out like a sleeping princess. This time, in the Orkneys.”
Seven
“An archipelago of seventy islands, settled about eight thousand five hundred years ago by Mesolithic and Neolithic tribes, and then by the Picts,” Mason murmured.
The Orkney Islands. It seemed strange they were already moving on.
Necessary, when the killings kept moving on.
“Mainland is the largest island and Kirkwall is the center of government and administration, and that’s where we’ll be,” Della told him.
“We’re on our way to Kirkwall Airport,” Mason said. “On Mainland, yes? And you’ve been there, of course,” he added dryly.
