task, as Gerda had begun to worsen terribly over the past two days. Early this morning I went to see her, as is my custom before retiring. Usually I make a vain attempt to hypnotise her, to see what news I can learn of Zsuzsanna and thus Vlad. But this morning when I went in, she was not staring at the ceiling as she always does. No, her eyes were closed, and her breathing laboured. I sat with her a long time, checking her breath and pulse and aura and trying to ascertain the cause of her decline.
There is no physical reason for it, other than her psychic connexion with Zsuzsanna. Of that I am certain. If she was weakening and near death, it meant Zsuzsanna was the same.
The day I had so diligently been working towards for a quarter-century was now here. As Arminius had said so long ago, the covenant works both ways: by destroying Vlads evil children, I weaken himand strengthen myself. And at last the moment had come when I was the stronger, and could deliver Vlad his long-overdue fate.
So after I left her I did not go to bed; instead, I began to pack my trunk and checked the timetables to see which trains were headed east, and when. My hope was that, if I could arrive in Transylvania and dispatch both Vlad and Zsuzsanna in time, Gerda might be spared both death and a dark resurrection.
But I also knew that if I failed, it would not be safe for her to remain in this house with Mama and Katya, nor for the mortician who kept her body for burial. She could not stay here without the keen scrutiny of one who can perceive the symptoms of encroaching vampirism, and knows how to keep the undead at bay. As I packed, I puzzled upon this for some time, since there is no one in Amsterdam I can trust with such a task.
But there is such an one in London: my friend John, with his lunatic asylum. He does not know, about the details of my wifes illness, but he is much interested in occultism and possesses an open mind. If I instruct him as to Gerdas confinement and care, he will follow my orders to the letter.
I was composing a telegram to him in my own mind when the bell rang. I answered it to find a stout German lady somewhat past middle age, with iron-streaked brown hair, broad jaw, and a ruddy complexion laced with spidery broken veins. (And, I admit, a vast, intimidating bosom; when she leaned from the waist to bow, I quite expected her to topple forward.)
Herr Van Helsing? She smiled most pleasantly, and I knew at once that she would make a suitable day nurse for Mama, for she projected both dependability and kindness. I had no need for psychic protection around hershe even wore a crucifix, hidden beneath her black widows weedsand so I relaxed and smiled as I motioned her inside.
And you must be Frau Koehler, I answered in German, and at the sound of her native tongue, she positively beamed.
As I led her upstairs to Mamas room, we made pleasant small talk about the ease with which she had located my house, and about how I had been referred to her by a colleague.
Once wed entered Mamas bedroom, she fell silent and gazed with reverence upon her prospective patient, then crossed herself at the sight of the crucifix hanging over the bed.
Ah, she said with forthright sympathy. She is dying, yes?
Yes.
How sad for you! Her tone was that of one who had been through the same terrible experience closehand. And are you alone? I see no wife, no children
I sensed a glimmer of marital hope in the widow Koehlers eyes and aspect. I have a wife, I said at once, suddenly overwhelmed by bitterness at the recollection of how she had been taken from me in spirit; and by the recollection of my little Jan, taken in body by the vampires by Zsuzsanna, the vile demoness for whom I can find no forgiveness in my heart. But Gerda, too, is ill
How doubly sad! God has given you a heavy burden. She tilted her wide, strong-jawed face towards me and studied me with at least as much pity as she had directed towards Mama. Then there shall be two