the secrets of nature, to the language of animals, and to countless magic spells and charms, all taught by the Devil.
“Admittance was limited to only ten students per class, and at the conclusion of learning, nine of the students would be released and returned to their homes while the tenth would remain as payment to the Devil. At least four of the Draculs are believed to have been selected for this honor over the centuries. The so-called Tenth Student becomes the Devil’s aide-de-camp, his personal student, and is taught magic far darker than any other. They learn the ability to cheat death, to manipulate the minds of others, to transform their own bodies into anything they wish. They become gods among men, but the price is steep, for the Devil claims their soul, and the gates of Heaven are forever closed to their ranks, as their final test requires them to renounce God and embrace all that is unholy.”
“This is a legend, right? Nothing more?” Bram asked.
“It is as real as the story of the Dearg-Due your nanny put to paper—what I firmly believe to be her past life. All legends, after all, find their basis in fact.”
“So you believe this ‘tall man’ to be one of the Draculs?” Matilda asked.
Vambéry nodded. “I believe him to be the voivode Dracula, yes. I heard his name spoken of in legend throughout Eastern Europe, sometimes referred to as stregoica, ?rd?g, pokol, even wampyr in a German text shared with me in Budapest. The physical description is always similar: tall, dark hair, thick eyebrows, an aquiline nose. I have seen numerous drawings of the man, but he always appears a little different in each one. The similarities are there, though.”
I recalled Matilda’s attempted drawings of Ellen from all those years ago, how she was never quite able to capture her, each image different from the last. I caught Matilda looking at me; she was thinking much the same.
“The most common image,” Vambéry went on, “can be found in an old pamphlet from Nuremberg published in the fourteen hundreds. Therein, he is known as Dracula the voivode, but I believe he has gone by many names.”
“I do not care what name he is known by or what atrocities he committed in the past, this wicked man has taken my wife,” Thornley said. He was again at the window, with the shutter open enough to see out into the storm. “I will chase him to the ends of this world to get her back. If Ellen is somehow with my Emily, I will put a blade through her heart, too, if that is what is necessary.”
“To pursue him means death. Think about what you have seen,” Vambéry said. “This man transformed from a singularly human form to a swarm of bees before our eyes. I believe we can assume he brought Patrick O’Cuiv back from the dead, not once but twice, the second resurrection after his body had been dissected in autopsy. This very act offers a glimpse at his malignant powers. He somehow has infected your wife with the vile disease that thrives in his own blood, making her a willing slave and turning her against you. If the story of the Dearg-Due is to be believed, your Ellen joined the ranks of the undead when she renounced God. The evil that created Dracul flows through her veins as well. You stand no chance against one; to take on both is ludicrous.”
“How can he travel to England? You said they cannot cross water?” Thornley asked.
“I said they cannot cross moving water under their own power,” Vambéry countered. “But Dracul possesses great wealth and with it he can procure the aid of others, people lacking scruples.”
“We must see this through,” I said quietly. “Whatever Ellen has inflicted on me, whatever this man has done to Emily, all of it is connected. This curse has haunted us since childhood; we must bring it to an end.”
Thornley said, “How can we be certain Emily has gone to Whitby? What if we leave and she returns here to an abandoned house?”
I had picked up the ring again and gripped it tightly in my hand. “Emily has gone to him, and we know he has gone to