Scanned by an unsung hero.

Proofed by Highroller.

Shortly after the manned space flight to the moon, a second flight was launched by NASA. Unlike her sister ship, the second craft’s launch was shrouded in secrecy, and today is denied by the authorities. Officially, the ill-fated excursion never happened.

Some years earlier, an obscure scientist had mathematically determined the existence of a planet half a billion miles from Earth. Computers verified the findings. In the name of science, the planet must be reached and explored.

The Starcraft reached its goal. Drakulon was there—a planet of rare and alien beauty. Where burnished bronze spires rose majestically in the light of ancient twin moons. Where bizarrely twisted trees bordered rivers of flowing crimson. Blood rivers that nourished a gentle race who bent to drink.

Yet the Earthship came at the sundown of a once-lovely dream. Drakulon was dying—its scarlet waters drying and powdering a dust. The crew members died on the doomed Drakulon, but their spacecraft returned to Earth. When it crashed in a remote New England forest, it was empty save for a single stowaway traveler. A girl who had flown on alien wings to survive, the last of the Drakulon race. And she would survive. She had found new rivers of life-giving blood coursing through the veins of her adopted planet’s inhabitants.

Earth people would call her a vampire, sharpen their stakes and mark her to die. But she would live. She was the huntress from the stars. She was VAMPIRELLA.

ON ALIEN WINGS

by Ron Goulart

Prologue

A hot wind, dry and harsh, blew across the dark graveyard. A hot, dry wind, scattering grit, tossing leaves, rasping at the mournful marble angels. A hot, dry wind roaring out of the desert and sweeping across southern California. They call it a Santa Anna, and odd things are supposed to happen when it’s up. The iron gate to the small private cemetery rattled, the fronds of the palm trees around the high stone wall crackled. Far downhill, where there were more lights and houses, a dog barked.

Higher up the night hill stood a mansion, an intricacy of wrought iron and arches, tile and stucco. Fifty years ago it had been built by a rising movie producer. He still lived there. No lights showed in the sprawling mansion in these last minutes before midnight.

The older of the two boys was twenty. Wearing a dark denim suit and carrying a satchel of tools, he licked his lips as he watched the dark mansion. “Everybody must be asleep up there.”

His companion, a stocky, dark boy of eighteen, said, “He’s supposed to have two guards on duty all night.” The hot wind whipped at his shaggy hair.

“That’s at the house, Leroy. Not down here in the burying ground.” He rubbed his hands together, making a sandpaper sound. “Now, let’s get us over the wall and take a look at that crypt.”

“It’s a terrible night, Josh,” complained Leroy. “This goddamn wind takes all the sweat out of you, dries you up like a fig.”

“Come on. Quit bitching, let’s go.” Josh leaped, caught the top of the stone wall, and boosted himself up. Bellying out flat, he held his hand down. “Jump, I’ll help you.”

“I can jump well as you.” The boy took a few steps back before running at the graveyard wall and jumping. When he was sitting beside his partner, he said, “House is where he’s got all those paintings and silver and—”

“And guards, who can shoot guys like us and get a bonus for it. Listen, there’s bound to be valuable stuff in the crypt. I showed you that old magazine about how the Horner family used to bury its kin with some of their favorite stuff. You know, like the Egyptians did.”

“Those guys who dug up Egyptians didn’t have much luck,” said Leroy. “They got a curse put on them. I saw a movie about—”

“Let’s go.” Josh dropped over into the Horner family burial ground.

Leroy followed, landing beside a huge marble angel with outspread wings. The hot wind came swooping, caught at his clothes, rubbed at his face.

Josh was making his way to the crypt, a cottage-size marble vault, rich with fluted columns and wrought-iron grill work. “Here it is,” he whispered. “We’ll get to work.”

The wind took his words, scattered them before they reached his partner.

“Huh?” said Leroy, coming closer.

Hunched and squinting, Josh was examining the thick iron door of the crypt. “Lock doesn’t look very tough.” He dropped his kit, knelt to select the proper tools.

“Josh!”

“Not so loud. What?”

“I heard something—something moving around.”

“Bullshit. Now shut up and—”

Before Josh could touch the door it began to open from the inside.

The old man laughed. His scrawny, mottled body shook, shivered. The harsh laughter turned to a cough. He swayed back and forth in the armchair, coughing and laughing, tears trickling out of his faded blue eyes and zigzagging down the creases of his sunken, leathery cheeks.

The doctor, a fat, perspiring man of fifty-three, moved back, clutching his stethoscope against his chest. “Sit still, you old bastard,” he said.

“Excuse me, forgive me, Zumler.” Wheezing, the old man sank back in his chair, giggling now and then. “I was thinking of something that happened earlier this evening down at the family burial ground.”

“Didn’t I tell you not to go tramping around the grounds at night, you doddering old idiot?” Dr. Zumler returned his instrument to his medical bag. “If I’m going to continue as your resident physician, your pet doctor, you’re going to have to listen to me. You have to realize, Mr. Horner, that I’m trying to keep you alive.”

“Your wish to keep me alive, Zumler, is far exceeded by my own,” said old Horner. “I don’t want to die. Won’t die either.”

“You will unless—”

“I know a good deal more than you do about keeping myself alive.” Buttoning his shirt with a gnarled, splotched hand, Horner rose out of the chair. “It really was quite amusing. Two youthful hoodlums were apparently—But, no, you’re not the man to appreciate the jest. Good night, Zumler.”

“Listen to me, you senile simpleton,” said the fat doctor. “You’re one of the richest men in southern California, but unless you start to follow my instructions you’ll be—”

“Won’t die, Zumler,” the old man assured him. “Outlive you. I’ll tap dance on your grave, spit in your eye.”

“Not if you don’t—”

“Go away now, Zumler. I want to talk to some of my—”

“And that’s another thing. That collection of soothsayers, fortune-tellers, self-styled witches, and so forth that you’ve allowed to camp here as though—”

“You enjoy talking tough, Zumler. Part of your bedside manner with the rich,” said the old man. “But you’re as frightened and fearful of death as I am. You won’t do anything about it, but I have. I’ve done things that would—Well, none of your business. Get out.”

“It’s well past midnight, Mr. Horner. You’d best go to bed.”

“Not yet. Too much like climbing into my coffin.” He gestured at the four-poster bed across the large, shadowy room.

As Dr. Zumler, with an angry snort, headed toward the oaken door of the bedroom, a light tapping commenced on the door. “No more visitors tonight,” he cautioned.

“Says you. Come on in.”

A thin, pale woman, dressed in a black dress, stood on the threshold. “I have something to tell you, Mr. Horner,” she said in a soft voice.

“Remember what I told you.” Ignoring the frail woman, Zumler left the room.

“Come in, Carolyn, come in.”

Holding herself very straight and stiff, she entered the old man’s bedroom. When the door was shut behind her, she said, “I’ve been…talking with them…”

Old Horner was breathing more rapidly. “Yes, good. Do you have any news, any message?”

“I’ve been…talking with them…those who are on the…other side…who dwell in the…Nethervoid…” Slowly her sooty eyelids closed. “The one…you are seeking…is…near.”

“Where? Where is he?”

“It is…a girl…a lovely, dark-haired girl…who arrived…only days ago.”

“Then there’s hope, there’s a chance,” said the old man. “There’s a chance to live, to live on and on forever. I’ll never have to pay the— Where is she? How can I find her?”

Carolyn told him.

The hot, dry wind did not die. It kept blowing, swirling around the sprawling mansion. A wrought-iron gate in the garden wall creaked open.

“Hold it!”

“Very astute, Weiner.” Old Horner, wearing an overcoat and muffler, stepped out onto the hillside.

“Oh, good evening, Mr. Horner.” Weiner checked the glowing dial of his wristwatch. “Good morning, rather.”

Chuckling, the old man began making his way downhill to the burial ground. He walked in a rattling, jerking way, more like some less-than-perfect mechanism than a man.

He was wheezing when he came to the cemetery gate. His rough, freckled hands shook as he got out the key to open the great gate.

He crossed the field of tombstones and angels to the crypt. The dry wind was scattering the last small mounds of some flaky sort of dust that were spread out in front of the metal door. Horner took hold of the handle, tugged the door a few inches open.

“I have a job for you,” he said into the blackness of the vault.

Chapter 1

Daylight spread along the white beach. Adam Van Helsing, breathing evenly, was jogging along close to the surf. He was dark, wide-shouldered, nearly thirty. For a while a dripping Irish Setter joined him, running and bounding at his side for nearly a mile before getting distracted. The day progressed, grew warmer. Signs of life began to show in some of the beach houses. Finally Adam slowed to a halt, turned to go jogging back to his own house, the place he and his father were renting for their stay in southern California.

Dad still doesn’t look too well, Adam thought as he ran. I’ve got to make him drop this quest of his, this search for Vampirella.

Traffic noises up on the highway. Not just trucks now, but cars. Sports cars with bragging, roaring engines.

When Adam reached their rented beach house, he found his father seated on the redwood sun deck, his sightless eyes behind dark glasses turned toward the brightening Pacific.

“You okay, Dad?”

Van Helsing, a lean, gray-haired old man, replied, “I’m up earlier than usual because we had a phone call.”

“Oh, so?” Adam wandered into the house, found a towel to rub across his face and neck, and returned to the plank deck. “Who was it?”

“A Mr. Nathan Horner.”

Dropping the towel, Adam sat on a redwood bench. “Would that be Nathan Horner, the multimillionaire movie producer?”

“The same, although he’s no longer active in the industry.”

“He’s still a multimillionaire, though, isn’t he?”

“Several times over.”

“Why’d he call? Is he planning to leave some of his money to the cause of occult research and investigation?”

The blind man said, “I get the impression that Horner isn’t planning to die at all.”

“Nice trick if you can work it. So what’s he want of us?”

“It seems our reputation as occult investigators is well established in Los Angeles and environs. Mr. Horner wants to consult us.”

“About what?”

“About,” said the old man slowly, “vampires.”

“Well, now for some of Pendragon’s Instant Breakfast.” The sharp-featured man ran his fuzzy tongue over his fuzzy teeth, got out of bed, and tottered to the bureau. Atop it rested a fresh bottle of Scotch. The magician opened the bottle, scanned the small apartment for a glass and, not spotting one, decided to drink straight from the source. “Ah, it’s comforting to know that Scotch contains all the vitamins and minerals necessary to life (or at least to such a life as mine).” After taking another swig, yawning and rubbing his eyes, Pendragon set about finding the clothes he’d discarded the night before. He located everything but one sock.

The door buzzer buzzed.

Pendragon gave a start. “Gad, the Last Trump has sounded, and me with only one sock.”

The buzzer was pushed again.

Crossing to the apartment door, the magician flung it open. “If you’re the census taker, there are sixteen of us residing herein. Myself, better known as the Great Pendragon, and fifteen assorted snakes—Why, lor blimey, it’s Vampirella.”

The tall, long-legged girl smiled at him. “I wonder if you can help me,” she said.

With a graceful bow and a sweeping gesture, Pendragon said, “Enter, my house is your house. If you spot my other sock, though, that’s mine.”

Vampirella slipped out of the tan raincoat she was wearing. She seated herself in the magician’s only armchair. Outside the lace-curtained window there was a view of palm trees and telephone poles. “I noticed an ad for your appearance in one of the Los Angeles papers,” she said.

“Ah, yes, they set it in a special typeface known as Pendragon Ultra Small. You’re the first person who’s been able to read it with the naked eye.” He backed up until his legs hit his folding bed, then sat. “Now then, my dear, how may I serve you?”

“When I met you at that carnival—”

“I don’t want to be reminded of Blackston’s Mammoth Carnival, a true low spot in my career.” He raised a hand toward her in a stop gesture.

“Though I do appreciate your saving me from the clutches of Blackston.”

The dark-haired girl smiled at him. “Okay, we’ll get to the point. I’m nearly broke and on the run,” she said. “The Van Helsings are after me, possibly some law-enforcement people, too.”

“In my humble (if that’s the proper word to apply to any of my thoughts) opinion the old gent is the one you have to worry about, child. Young Adam is decidedly moving toward your camp.”

Vampirella shrugged. “Be that as it may. I came here to California to keep up my fight against the Cult of Chaos. The thing is, I’m running out of money. I could acquire money by illegal means—I have in the past. I’d like not—”

“Nay, perish the thought,” interrupted Pendragon. “We can’t have you doing anything like that.” He cleared his throat. “Um…however, if you were thinking of borrowing more than a paltry pittance from me, I fear that much as I—”

“I don’t want a loan,” she said. “I want a job.”

“Job?”

“As your assistant,” Vampirella said. “I do, after all, know a little something about magic.”

Pendragon stroked his aquiline nose, studying the girl. “There’s no gainsaying you’d brighten the act,” he concluded. “And I believe I can persuade Pete, owner and operator of Pete’s Rocket Lounge, to add you to the payroll.” He stood up. “Yes, let us consider it a fait accompli. You and I are partners, Vampirella.”

“Very good,” she said.

“Splendid. We’ll drink to it.”

“Not me, thanks, but don’t let that stop you.”

“It won’t,” the magician assured her.

Chapter 2

The early evening show at Pete’s Rocket Lounge never drew a large audience. There were about thirty people, outnumbered by the small round tables, in the large, low-ceilinged room. They were thirty highly attentive people at the moment. Even the four waiters, who’d been telling stories over by the bar, had fallen silent.

A moment before Vampirella had joined Pendragon on the raised circular stage. Wearing a scant costume of scarlet silk, which accented rather than concealed her upthrust breasts, the dark-haired girl stood beside the magician.

“Now, ladies and gentlemen (and assorted idiots and pinheads),” said Pendragon, “with the aid of my charming assistant, I will amaze you with further feats of wizardry.” Bowing deeply, the magician proceeded to his next illusion.

Aided by the lovely Vampirella, Pendragon performed a half-dozen tricks, including the bottomless pitcher, the six golden rings, and the floating lady. His hands were perfectly steady, his patter, if you overlooked his muttered asides, was brilliant.

Finally the magician announced, “Alas, dear friends (and goonish waiters), our brief hour of magic and mystery must draw to a close. My advice to you, which may be redundant, is to keep your eyes fastened on my beauteous assistant. (You certain you wish to do this, child? Yes? So be it.) Friends, you are about to witness one of the most baffling illusions ever performed. Even I don’t understand it.” He raised both hands above his head, then pointed them at the girl. “Zimbro, zinco, zingaro!”

Vampirella’s body began to flicker, fade. She vanished. Circling in the air over the spot where she’d stood was a large black bat.

The audience gasped, murmured.

The bat flew up toward the ceiling, fluttered away into the darkness beyond the lighted stage.

After almost a minute of complete silence, the patrons began to applaud, enthusiastically.

“We thank you.” Pendragon bowed. Yellow smoke began to swirl all around him and engulf him. When it cleared, the stage was empty.

“Positively uncanny,” said Pendragon, pouring himself several fingers of Scotch. “The best thing in the act, yet I have not a notion of how it’s done.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Vampirella, herself again, was sitting in a canvas chair in their dressing room with her feet resting on a wardrobe trunk.

“Could it perhaps be hypnosis? When you demonstrated the illusion to me this afternoon I suspected hypnosis. Yet I can’t see how you could hypnotize every single one of those cretins out there.” He gulped down Scotch.

“Don’t they ever hear you?”

“Hear what, pray tell?”

“All those remarks and insults you’re forever muttering.”

“Perhaps they do,” the magician replied. “It adds a certain spice to the act if they do.”

“Might add a punch in the nose for you sometime.”

“Never,” he assured her. “Everyone knows it’s seven years’ bad luck to punch a magician in the nose.”

Standing up and smiling across at him, Vampirella said, “Going to get some air before the next show. I wasn’t expecting so much smoke. I thought cigarette smoking was supposed to be hazardous to the health.”

“Yes, that’s what makes it so popular. You can’t go wrong offering the public a nice slow and sure method of suicide.” That reminded him to refill his glass.

There was a graveled parking lot behind the club, a weedy wooded area beyond that. Wrapping her dressing gown tighter around her, Vampirella strolled to the woods. The night sky was clear tonight, the stars hardly blurred.

“Vampirella.”

She stopped still. Someone had called her, someone hidden among the dark trees. Vampirella sensed at once she must not go toward the voice, that she had to get away.

“Vampirella.”

There was a figure in there. A tall gaunt figure, with great black wings sprouting from its back.

Vampirella tried to turn, to run back to the club, to light and safety.

She could not move. The figure, the dark winged figure, was holding her, somehow, to the spot.

Eyes narrowing, she stared into the woods. She must break free.

But she could not.

Couldn’t move, could not fight against it.

The winged figure came for her.

Chapter 3

Adam noticed the man in the cloak as he jogged along the dawn beach. Trucks were humming across the highway far above. A lone gull was skimming the water, crying hoarsely.

“Ah, precisely the gentleman I seek.” Adam recognized the hawk-nosed man as Pendragon. He halted on the sand, waved toward the scrub brush. “Mr. Pendragon, isn’t it?”

“Indeed it is,” replied the magician. Adjusting his plaid cloak, he came down to join the young man on the beach. “I’ve had considerable trouble tracking you to your lair, sir. Perhaps I ought to approach you now with a flag of truce.”

Grinning, Adam asked, “Meaning?”

Pendragon looked up and down the deserted stretch of beach. “I assume your respected parent is not likely to appear.”

“Dad’s sleeping. What’s the problem?”

“When we met during the unfortunate business at the carnival,” began Pendragon, “I sensed in you a capable investigator. I also surmised that you did not exactly share your father’s opinion of Vampirella.”

“I’m not really sure what I feel about her,” said Adam. “What do you know about her? Do you know where she is?”

“We are fast approaching the crux of the matter. I do, and I don’t. That is, I know where she was, but I don’t know where she is now.” Pendragon sighed, ran a hand through his long gray hair. “I’ve devoted the better part of the night to searching for her. As you can see, my efforts have been fruitless.”

“I don’t quite get—”

“I have been aiding the young lady,” explained the magician. “She was, in fact, working as my assistant. She worked one show last evening and promptly disappeared, never returning for the second performance.”

“She’s a very elusive girl.”

“Vampirella is still engaged in seeking out the Cult of Chaos,” said Pendragon. “An occupation fraught with much danger, as you no doubt know. When I searched for her in the vicinity of the club I found the robe she’d been wearing.” He paused, stroked his chin. “There is one further bit of information, though it may be only a pipe dream. One of the dishwashers was looking out the kitchen window as he labored, and he swears he saw a huge creature swoop down on a girl. A creature with wings.”

“If that’s true…Then there’s no telling what’s happened to her.”

“I’ve come to you, Adam Van Helsing, because the occult is much more in your line than in mine. The real occult, I mean. It is my fear that Vampirella is mixed up in something very strange and deadly.” Pendragon put a hand on Adam’s arm. “I didn’t know who else to contact, surely not the police. There’s a risk that you’ll tell your father. Being desperate, I had to take that chance.”

“Dad may already know she’s here,” said Adam. “Since he lost his eyesight, his psychic vision has developed into something incredible. His hunches, or whatever you want to call them, are almost always right.”

“Has the old gentleman perhaps had…um…a hunch as to exactly where Vampirella is at this moment?”

Shaking his head, Adam said, “No, not that I know of. But Dad’s already told me he’s certain we’ll meet Vampirella again in Los Angeles somewhere.”

“Alas, that is not very specific.”

“Give me the address of this club of yours,” said Adam. “I’ll get over there later today to look around. Maybe I can come up with a lead.”

“And you won’t mention this to your father?”

“No, I won’t,” promised Adam. “Dad and I have an appointment this afternoon with Nathan Horner. I’ll get over to the club as soon after that as I can.”

Pendragon gave him the address. “I’m quite concerned about her.”

“So am I,” said Adam.

The room was cold, a chilling and numbing cold, and dark. No windows; and if there was a door, not a crack of light betrayed it. Vampirella had been conscious for nearly an hour. Her hands were behind her back, her wrists manacled and chained to the chill stone wall of the room. Because Vampirella was chained she could not transform herself. She could do nothing but wait.

Then there was a rectangle of light ten feet away.

A man, thin and old, framed by the sudden light. The man stepped in, the door slammed tight shut. Everything was blackness once again.

At first only dry, wheezing breathing. Then came words. “Your name is Vampirella.”

“Yes. Excuse me if I don’t shake hands.”

A laugh rattled in the absolute darkness. “A sense of humor. I hadn’t expected that.”

“Why was I brought here?”

“You should be more interested in who brought you.” Light blossomed. The old man had clicked on a flashlight. He aimed the yellow beam at the chained girl and caressed her body with it for a moment. “My name is Nathan Horner. Perhaps you’ve heard of me.”

“No.”

“My reputation has possibly dimmed since I retired. No matter,” he said. “What matters is that many years ago I entered into a pact. I made a bargain with one of the Seven Servants of Chaos and with one of the lesser—Ah, I can tell by your face you have heard of Chaos and the other demons of the Nethervoid.”

“Yes, I’ve heard of the Companions of Chaos.”

Horner tottered closer to Vampirella. “You’ve heard of the Nethervoid, that place where they summon your soul after you die. You see, there is no way to escape them…so they think…They grant you certain favors, help you to gain…At the time, you understand, I…When you’re thirty, you never think you’re going to die. Most of my success was…they…That part, you see, I…But if I died…Lord, if I die! They’ll take me, take my soul across—but I won’t die! I won’t die, do you see? It isn’t that easy—to stop death. But I have to, I must—I won’t die. They won’t get me.” The old man came to within inches of her. “That’s where you can help me. You can save me, Vampirella.”

She turned her face away, saying nothing.

Horner’s gnarled hand caught her dark hair, pulled. “Look at me! Listen to me! I can still command the demon, even though he suspects what I’m up to. Until I die, they must obey. That’s part of the bargain, you see. When I learned you were here, I sent him for you. You can understand why.”

“No.”

The old man’s dry lips came close to her ear. “I know what you are. I know. You’re a vampire.” He began to giggle, his breath puffing at her ear. “You’re going to help me.” He stroked his neck. “You’re going to drink my blood, Vampirella. That will turn me into a vampire, too. I will be one of the un—”

“No, I won’t. I’ll never do that again,” she told him. “When I first came to this—When I first came here I needed blood to survive. That’s all changed. I have a blood-substitute serum. I will never be—”

“And where are you carrying your supply of this wondrous stuff?” The old man fingered the silk of her scant scarlet costume. “Surely you’re not carrying any with you.”

She did not reply.

Horner laughed. “You’ll stay here, Vampirella, stay here until your thirst for blood is more important than anything else in the world. Until all your thoughts and desires are for blood, until everything is colored red. Yes, and then you will beg me to let you do what I’ve asked.” He turned off the flashlight and left her in the darkness.

Chapter 4

Pendragon dealt himself five aces. “Gad, all spades,” he muttered. “Not a good sign at all.” He was seated on the edge of the club stage. It was midafternoon, and there were no customers in the place. The magician twisted his wrist, and the pack of cards disappeared. “What’s come over me? I’m behaving very paternally toward the girl. Mayhap she has some perfectly legitimate reason for vanishing. None of my business probably.” He picked up five small golden balls to juggle. “Still and all, if that benighted dishwasher is not hallucinating, some kind of strange creature came and spirited her away.” Pendragon let the flashing balls drop, one by one, into a nearby top hat. “Alas, I’d believed we’d seen the last of the Cult of Chaos. Yet I fear the girl’s disappearance is definitely linked to the activities of the Companions of Chaos.”

A man came in from the afternoon, accompanied by a brief flash of outdoor brightness.

“Can this be Van Helsing already?”

“Mr. Pendragon?” inquired the newcomer. The magician saw a short, stocky man in a blue bush-jacket and bell-bottom trousers. “You are the Great Pendragon, aren’t you?”

“Your humble servant, sir. Who might you be?”

“I’m Norm Lane.” The man worked his way through the tables and the stacked chairs. “I’m with Famous Bookings.”

“Ah,” said the magician, rising. “Has my modest reputation as a wizard reached the lofty premises of Famous Bookings?”

“Not so much you as the girl,” replied Lane. He lifted a chair off a table, uprighted it, and sat down. “An assistant of mine caught your early show last night. He says you got a sensational girl in the act, sensational girl with a nice pair on her. And that she does a great finish stunt. That so?”

“Indeed it is, Mr. Lane. The young lady is using the name Vampirella,” said Pendragon. “The illusion your perceptive colleague witnessed is one I have labored long, weary years to perfect. I can guarantee you and FB no other magic act in the world can duplicate it.”

“I want to see it.”

“So you shall, Mr. Lane.” Pendragon cleared his throat. “However, Vampirella has taken a few days’ leave to prepare for an impending audition with one of the large motion-picture companies. When she returns to the act, you’ll receive a personal invitation to view.”

“Who’s interested in her? Warner, Para—”

“I am not at liberty to divulge that.”

Lane rubbed the top of his head. “I’ll tell you my problem, Pendragon. I got a sudden empty spot on a cruise ship, ship going from New York down to the Caribbean. Now your magic act, and this girl with the terrific pair, sounds like just what we need to fill out the entertainment package on the boat. After you do the cruise we can book you into a bunch of resort hotels and clubs down there. Sound okay?”

“I do owe a great deal to Pete’s Rocket Lounge, and I really ought—”

“You’ll get seven hundred fifty dollars a week,” cut in Lane. “That’s seven hundred fifty dollars for the two of you, split it any way you want.”

“For an act with the growing reputation of this one I—”

“We know what you’re pulling down here. Seven hundred fifty dollars is FB’s top offer.” Lane got up. “I have to see your whole act this week sometime or I go shopping for another magician.”

“You have the assurance of the Great Pendragon that Vampirella will reappear in plenty of time to meet your deadline, Mr. Lane.”

“Here’s my card. Phone me when you got her back with you.” He went away through the empty tables.

Pendragon sighed. “Ah, would I were as confident as I sound.”

The old man walked into the crypt. The light of the afternoon deserted him. “She’s being stubborn,” he wheezed.

Something stood in the far corner of the marble room, with two shelfed coffins at its back. “You sound quite terrible,” said a croaking voice, “not long for this world. You’ve got one foot in the—”

“I’m a long way from dead, Nergal,” Horner snapped. “While I’m alive you must do what I say. That’s the deal.”

“None knows the details of the bargain better than I.” Nergal was a winged creature, his skin a dry scaly gray. His eyes glowed a faint yellow in the dimness of the crypt.

“Then quit needling me. Listen to what I want.”

The winged demon laughed. “You still think completely in earthly terms,” he said. “When I speak the simple truth to you, you read some personal meaning into it. There is none. I care nothing for you. My only interest is in your soul. When you die, which will be quite soon now, I will take that soul across to the Nethervoid.”

“I’m not going to die!”

“A boast I’ve often heard over the centuries,” said Nergal. “Heard always from those I had served, those to whom I had brought whatever pleasures of the world they thought they wanted.”

“Maybe you’ve heard it before. This time, though, you’re up against somebody too smart. Yes, that’s right, Nathan Horner is too damn clever for you and Chaos and the Seven Servants. You’ve never come up against anyone like me.”

The demon only laughed.

“Now you listen,” continued the old man. “I’m having trouble with Vampirella. She won’t do what I want, she’s being damn stubborn. I want you to make her do it.”

Nergal said, “Vampirella will do exactly what you wish.”

“She will? When?”

“Soon, very soon, but…”

“But what?”

“It won’t help a bit,” the demon told him.

Chapter 5

“We’re drawing closer,” Van Helsing said.

At the wheel of the car Adam said, “Still about ten miles from Horner’s place.”

“I mean we’re getting closer to the girl we seek,” said the blind man. “To the vampire who killed my brother.”

“She’s connected with Horner somehow?”

The car climbed swiftly along the twisting road into the hills.

“We will find her soon…I…Yes, I sense she is at Nathan Horner’s.”

“So that’s where she went.”

“What?”

“Oh, I said I don’t quite see what they have in common.”

“You forget, Adam, Horner has expressed an interest in topic of vampires. This girl is one of the most vicious of blood-drinking—”

“Let’s not go over that again.”

“She hypnotized you once,” his father reminded him. “You mustn’t let it happen again. You have to keep in mind she is the person who murdered your uncle as he lay injured beside the crashed airliner, killed him and drank his blood.”

“Yeah, I hadn’t forgotten that, but—”

“There’s no room for doubt. She’s a vampire, she must be—Ah!” The old man clutched his chest.

“What is it?”

“I see…something else.” Van Helsing’s voice grew thin, distant. “Nathan Horner…He’s one of them…one of the Companions of Chaos! He’s entered into some sort of terrible pact with…” The voice died and, after a long silence, the blind man said, “The vision has faded. I can’t get any more.”

“If Horner is tied in with the cult, then he and Vampirella can’t be in cahoots.”

“Perhaps not.”

“Come on now, Dad, you’ve got to admit, no matter what you think of her, Vampirella has been fighting against the Cult of Chaos. She destroyed the whole setup at Blackston’s Carnival. In fact, I owe my life to—”

“You owe her nothing!”

Adam allowed the conversation to drop. A few moments later they reached the iron gates which guarded the Horner estate. “We’re here,” he announced.

“We must be very careful,” warned his father.

“You weren’t invited to this clambake,” said old Horner. “Go away, get lost.”

“Don’t try that tough act on me, you doddering old fossil.” Slowly, fat Dr. Zumler got up out of his chair. “You shouldn’t be drinking, either.”

“That will be enough out of you. Begone!”

Glancing across the huge living room at Adam and his father, the doctor said, “You’ll find him an impossible bastard to deal with. I warn you, since you both appear to be several cuts above the usual run of quacks and crackpots he gathers around him.”

“Go away, depart,” ordered the bleak old man. When Dr. Zumler had taken his leave Horner began to chuckle and gasp. “He doesn’t approve of my major goal.”

Adam asked, “What might that be?”

“To stay alive,” Horner replied.

“Most people share that one.”

“I mean,” elaborated the old man, “to stay alive forever. Never to die.”

Van Helsing gave an angry shake of the head. “Is this why you summoned us, Horner? To rant on about some wild notion of—”

“It’s not a wild idea at all,” Horner interrupted. “Why, it was one of your own books, Van Helsing, that first suggested the scheme to me. Since then I’ve read a good deal on the subject, and naturally, when I learned you and your son were in the Los Angeles area, I arranged for a consultation. Hear me out if you will—and remember I’m paying you quite handsomely for your time.”

“What exactly is your idea, Mr. Horner?” asked Adam.

“You know a good deal about vampires,” said the gaunt millionaire. “You are firmly convinced they exist, are you not?”

“They are real, Horner,” the blind man said.

“Real enough to have killed my wife and my brother.”

“Yes, yes, I’ve heard about that,” Horner took a deep, rattling breath. “I want to make absolutely certain that what is said about vampires is true. Now then—if you are bitten by a vampire, you become a vampire. That part is correct, is it not?”

“There are different sorts of vampire, Mr. Horner,” explained Adam. “In most cases, however, what you say is true.”

“Good, very good. Once bitten by a vampire, you become a vampire—and you become immortal. Is that right?” He rubbed his mottled hands together.

“A vampire is undead,” said Van Helsing. “Whether or not that can be termed living is a question which has long been—”

“Spare me, if you will, the academic speculations, Van Helsing,” cut in the old man. “Call it alive, call it undead—a vampire cannot die. Cannot be killed.”

“Unless a stake be driven through his heart, no,” said Van Helsing.

“If, then, I were to be bitten by such a creature,” Horner went on, “I would become a vampire. I would never die.”

Adam stared at him. “You can’t be serious, Mr. Horner,” he said. “You’re not actually thinking of—”

“But I am. Yes, I am.” He pointed a gnarled forefinger at the young man. “Yes, I know what you’re getting at. You think it would be loathsome, horrible. To be a vampire, to feed on human blood, to roam the night in search of victims. There are worse things, yes, worse things by far. And anything—anything is better than death. You’re young, you don’t understand. I’m old, very old. I can feel death, sense that it’s waiting. And even after death—after death I must pay my…” He could not finish the sentence. With some difficulty, finally, Horner got up from his armchair. “Will you be so kind as to come along with me, gentlemen?”

Adam helped his father to stand. “Yes, we can, but—”

“I want your opinion on something,” said the old man, giggling.

Chapter 6

Blood filled her thoughts.

Chained in the underground room, Vampirella struggled against the mounting urge to satisfy her need for blood. But it was growing more and more difficult. She had to have blood.

Blood was necessary, necessary to her life. Vampirella twisted her body from side to side, worrying the manacles that held her wrists tight.

Blood was necessary once a day. Otherwise she would perish.

But having to take it, steal it from a living human being—Vampirella did not want to do that again, never anymore.

But she must do something, she simply had to have blood. Blood, and soon.

Old Horner led the procession, rattling down the twisting stone steps with an electric lantern in his hand. “This will be a rare opportunity for two eminent students of the supernatural such as yourselves,” he said in a gasping voice. “I’d venture to say you’ve rarely had a treat such as this.”

“What exactly is it you want to show us?” Adam demanded.

The old man giggled. “Don’t want to spoil the suspense. That’s something I learned during my long association with the film industry. You mustn’t give away your surprises too soon.”

The stairs ended. They came to a long stone corridor.

Van Helsing’s grip on his son’s arm tightened. “Closer,” he whispered, “we’re getting closer.”

“To the girl?”

The blind man nodded.

Horner was saying, “…opinion of experts such as you two…I’m completely convinced…but perhaps you can give me some advice…since I first contacted you…been lucky…Yes, extremely lucky…Except that I can’t—Ah, but here we are.” He halted in front of a metal door, took a key from a baggy pocket of his coat. “Any suggestions, or opinions, will be greatly appreciated.” Horner opened the door and stepped across the threshold with his lantern held high.

Then Adam saw her. “What the hell are you up to, Horner? You can’t—”

“It’s Vampirella!” cried his father. “Yes, I’m sure of it!”

“What kind of business is this? Horner, you have to let that girl go.”

“No, no,” said Horner, wheezing. “She is the answer—the secret of life eternal.”

“She’s the one who killed my brother!” Van Helsing broke loose from his son to go groping toward Vampirella.

“Stay away from her!” warned Horner.

“She has to die!”

A gun suddenly appeared in Horner’s hand. He went scuttling across the cell, catching up with the blind man. Using the gun as a hammer, he hit Van Helsing twice and once again across the head.

The blind man groaned, stumbling, collapsed on the chill stone floor.

“You goddamn maniac!” roared Adam, charging at Horner.

“I can see you’re not in sympathy with me either,” said the old man. He fired the pistol at the approaching Adam.

Chapter 7

Absolute blackness encircling him. And pain, pain flashing through his arm, throbbing in his head.

“Adam?”

A voice in the blackness, a long way off, calling to him.

“Adam?”

Nearer. Adam blinked his eyes. The blackness did not go away. “Yeah, I’m…Boy, that slug’s still in my arm.”

“You’ve been unconscious for almost an hour,” said the girl’s voice.

“Feels like I’ve been out for a decade, as though I’d been dead and buried.” Adam thought there was some light in the black room, but it was only flashes of pain as he tried to sit up. “Hey, what about Dad?”

“He’s still unconscious, but you needn’t worry. He’ll awaken, soon.”

“How do you know that?”

“I just know,” replied Vampirella. “The same way I know your wound, though painful, is not serious.”

Adam, with considerable effort, got himself to a sitting position. “You are Vampirella, aren’t you? I got only a quick glimpse before…before the lights went out.”

“Horner left you locked in here with me. He’ll be back.”

“He’s completely nuts,” said Adam. “I should have realized that sooner.”

“He has only one goal now, to cheat death. He’ll try anything.”

Adam took a breath, grimacing with pain. “How’d he get hold of you?”

“Horner is a believer in the Cult of Chaos. Long ago, he made a bargain. His wishes were granted in exchange for his soul.”

“The usual deal,” said Adam. “He hinted to us of something like that. Listen, though, you’re not…I just don’t believe you’re a vampire.”

There were several long seconds of silence. “But I am, Adam. Right now…if I don’t get blood very soon…I don’t know what will happen. I can only fight against it so long, then I must—”

“Fight against it?”

“I’ll tell you something,” Vampirella said, “something about myself. I am not of this planet. I come from a distant planet, far from this system. It is called Drakulon, and all of my people must have blood every day in order to survive.” The girl told Adam of her native planet, of the sources of life-sustaining blood. Told him of the slow dying of her planet and her people, of her escape and her long, lone journey to Earth.

“It sounds incredible, yet—”

“Yes, everything I told you is true,” Vampirella said. “When I reached Earth I found that the only way to get the blood I needed was by taking it from living human beings. That was something I struggled against doing—but finally I had no choice. Then after the plane crash I met a man calling himself Dr. Tyler Westrom. That wasn’t his real name, but he was an expert physician.”

“That’s the name of the guy who ran that sanitarium in the mountains,” said Adam. “We saw the ruins of the place.”

“The people there belonged to the Cult of Chaos, most of them,” Vampirella said. “The doctor had plans for me, so he worked out a blood-substitute serum. As long as I take that once a day, I have no desire for human blood. Unfortunately Horner got hold of me before—”

“How’d he manage to grab you? You’re a pretty formidable opponent.”

“Through the pact Horner is served by a winged demon known as Nergal. It must do his bidding,” explained Vampirella. “Neirgal has some power I can’t quite understand. He was able temporarily to take over the control of my mind. I couldn’t fight against him. I passed out, awakened here.”

“Then Pendragon’s guess was right.”

“You’ve seen Pendragon?”

“He approached me, very worried about you and needing help,” Adam said. “For an instant, someone saw this demon come and fetch you.”

“If you knew I was in Los Angeles, why didn’t you come hunting me?” Vampirella asked. “I have the impression you were surprised to find me here at Horner’s.”

“Not completely surprised. Dad had sensed you might be here—he’s got a gift for psychic vision.”

“You didn’t tell him about being visited by Pendragon?”

“Well, no,” admitted Adam. “I promised your magician I wouldn’t.”

“Then you don’t quite share your father’s desire to destroy me?”

“Of course not. I’ve been trying to—”

“Are you ready now, Vampirella?” The door had popped open. Horner entered, gun in one hand and lantern in the other. “I have a feeling I don’t have all that much time.”

Across the room Van Helsing groaned, eyes fluttering. His hand fluttered up to touch his blind eyes, then began feeling around for his knocked-off dark glasses.

“No, you don’t have very much time,” Vampirella agreed.

“So you’re got to do what I want,” he insisted. “Got to take my blood, turn me into a vampire.”

“No! I still won’t do that!”

“Yes, you damn well will.” He came swaying across the room to her. He pointed the gun at the head of the injured Adam. “I’ve been listening. You like this fellow. Okay, unless you do exactly what I want—I’ll blow his brains out.” He jabbed the barrel of the gun against Adam’s temple.

Vampirella’s eyes began to glow. A terrible anger flowed through her, anger mixed with the absolute need for blood. She strained, teeth gritting. The chains snapped, and she broke free.

The startled old man swung the gun in her direction. “Here now, you—”

Vampirella’s foot came kicking up, sent the pistol spinning out of his grasp. “Adam, get out of here. Can you make it?”

He made it to his feet. “I think so. But I can’t leave you—”

“Go then, quickly! You and your father.”

Old Horner wheezed. “You can’t go running things in my house, damn you.”

Adam went to his father and helped him to stand. “Come on, Dad.”

“We have to stop her,” muttered the old man.

“Not now.”

“Go, Adam. Hurry! I can’t control—”

Adam guided his father into the corridor and away from there.

Old Horner began to laugh. “I knew I’d win! I knew—” The lantern dropped from his gnarled fingers.

Vampirella’s sharp teeth cut into his throat. His blood spurted free, splashing at his neck, his shirt, staining the girl’s lips as she drank.

“I win! I’ll live forever. I’ll never…die.” Horner tumbled down to the stone floor.

Vampirella dropped beside him. Her face was smeared with blood, her long slender fingers streaked with it as she clutched the old man by the shoulders.

She remained hunched over him for minutes. Then she sighed, her body shuddering. She moved back from the body, brought one bloodstained hand up to her cheek.

“I have come for him.”

The doorway was filled with the wings of Nergal. “Yes,” said Vampirella, through bloody lips, “he’s dead now.”

“As I knew he would be,” said the demon. “You are not a vampire, not as Earth knows them. I sensed at once that you are alien, different. Therefore, while you may drink his blood you cannot turn him into a vampire.” He entered the cell. “I must take him now, escort him to the Nethervoid. The game is over, the bargain is done.”

“Perhaps we will meet again, Nergal,” said Vampirella.

“I have no quarrel with you.”

The girl said nothing more.

The winged demon bent over the lifeless body of Nathan Horner.

Chapter 8

The blind man saw it all very clearly.

The dark-haired girl in the scarlet costume moving slowly across the vast, glistening floor, almost floating. Her red lips smeared with blood, parted in a terrible smile. Her sharp teeth dead white in a slanting stripe of moonlight. The girl’s eyes were a blazing golden color as she reached Adam’s side. Smiling still, she put her arms around the young man, rubbed her nearly naked body against his. Then her teeth moved to Adam’s throat. Blood began to spurt.

“Adam, for the love of God, get away from her!”

“Dad, what is it?”

Van Helsing was blind again, the afternoon sun warm on his face. “I’m afraid I dozed off, Adam.” He was resting in a deck chair, facing the quiet Pacific he could not see.

“Yeah, I let you sleep. Figured you needed the rest.” Adam’s left arm, near the shoulder, was wound around with white bandaging. “Nightmare, huh?”

“I can’t get that girl out of my mind,” answered his father. “We have to find her again, Adam, so that she may be—”

“Dad, I can’t agree with—”

“We shouldn’t have left the Horner house the other night. We should have remained, caught the girl, and—”

“You had a concussion; I had a bullet wound,” Adam reminded him.

Van Helsing shook his head. “Even so, I wish I hadn’t been so groggy. It was an opportunity we may not have soon again. A chance to destroy her, to drive a stake through her heart.”

“Listen to me, Dad.” Adam came closer to his father, turning his back on the ocean. “I’ve talked to Vampirella, down there in the cell. She’s not what you think.”

“Oh, so? Did she convince you she didn’t murder your uncle?”

“I don’t know. I just know she’s not a vampire, not the kind you and I are familiar with.”

“Does it matter what kind? She is a vampire, she has to be destroyed.”

“She’s not a vampire,” Adam persisted. “She…she’s from another planet. She has to have blood, once a day at least, or she’ll die.”

“Better she die, than kill again.”

“She won’t kill anymore,” Adam assured his father. “Vampirella has found a blood substitute, so there’s no need for her to—”

“Stop it, Adam. You’re not being logical at all. It’s like saying Jack the Ripper became a choirmaster after slicing half a dozen women to pieces. That wouldn’t have made him any less guilty,” the old man said. “I won’t listen to any more nonsense. Apparently that girl could tell you anything and you’d believe it.”

“She wasn’t lying to me, I’m sure of that.”

Fisting his hands, Van Helsing said, “She obviously killed Horner. How does that fit in with your romantic theory? She told you she wouldn’t kill anymore, then proceeded to kill that maniacal old fool. It’s highly unlikely she can ever give it up.”

“Horner had kept her locked there at his place. She didn’t have her serum with her,” said Adam. “Besides, we don’t know what’s happened to Horner. The cops couldn’t find any trace of him. All his staff, including the assorted fortune-tellers and mystics, have cleared out. When the police got there they found only Dr. Zumler, and he was packing a suitcase.”

“I’m certain Nathan Horner is dead—and that Vampirella killed him.”

“You know, a couple of boys disappeared in that area, according to the cops. You can’t blame that on Vampirella.” Adam began pacing, from shadow into sunlight. “What about this demon who served Horner all those years?”

“I wouldn’t expect him to wait around for the police,” said Van Helsing.

“Seems more likely to me that he took Horner off with him,” said Adam. “Maybe he even did something to those missing boys.”

“The demon, as a minion of the Seven Servants of Chaos, couldn’t take a living Nathan Horner. The fact that Horner’s body can’t be found can be explained by the existence of the demon—but not Horner’s death. No, Vampirella is responsible for that.”

“I don’t agree with you.”

“Yes, so I notice,” said his father. “Since my encounter with Horner…That blow on the head seems to have affected my ability to get any sort of psychic message. I’m sure the knack will return when I’m fully recovered. And then we will—”

“I’m afraid not, Dad.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t keep you from hunting for Vampirella,” said Adam. “But I’m not going to help you anymore.”

Half rising from his chair, Van Helsing said, “This is our work, Adam. We must continue it, must hunt out things like the Cult of Chaos—and we must destroy vampires like—”

“I won’t do anything to hurt Vampirella.”

“What did she do to you? Did she hypnotize you?”

“She talked to me, that’s all. Talked to me there in the dark. I believed what she told me.” Adam strode across the sun deck, went into the house.

“Adam, you can’t quit,” cried the old man. “You can’t…” Van Helsing stopped talking; he could sense that his son had left.

The last of the daylight dropped away, the ocean turned a deeper blue. Adam stayed on the dune, eyes on the sea. “Have to see her again,” he was saying to himself. “I didn’t tell Dad I had a good idea where she was.”

Pendragon had informed him they were leaving. He and Vampirella had been signed by Famous Bookings to entertain on a Caribbean liner. Vampirella had apparently hesitated, but then decided to go. To get away from Los Angeles—and from the Van Helsings.

“I could have gone with them,” Adam told himself. “Gone to New York on the same flight and…No, I had Dad to take care of.” He scooped up a handful of sand, let it drain slowly away. “If this is my life’s work, I guess I’m out of a job.”

Chapter 9

Pendragon fell down. He went skidding across the floor of the cabin, his head clunking into the metal frame of the bunk bed. “Gad, that’s odd,” he observed as he came to rest on the polished floor. “I usually don’t start toppling over until much later in the day.”

Vampirella gave him a boost to his feet. “You slipped on something.”

Just inside the white door of the magician’s cabin was a small pool of water streaked with green.

“Yon slime, you mean?”

Kneeling, the girl poked at the spot. “It’s seaweed,” she said.

“Ah, perhaps some voluptuous mermaid attempted to pay me a visit.”

Getting a towel, Vampirella cleaned away the greenish spot. Then she glanced around, frowning.

“Somebody’s been in here. Notice anything missing?”

“Lord, let’s hope they didn’t swipe my booze!” He hurried to his steamer trunk to yank it open. Peering inside, he counted, “One, two, three, four, five, six. No, all the Scotch is present and accounted for. And I don’t think anything else has been pilfered.”

Vampirella was wearing a two-piece bathing suit even briefer than her scarlet costume. She put her hands on her hips. “I’d better check my cabin.”

“Aren’t you being a bit overcautious, dear child? After all, we are on an ocean liner. Not unusual to find a bit of seawater spilled here and there.”

The girl was at the door. “I’ll be right back.”

Snatching out a fifth, the magician trotted after her. “I was planning on having my first drink of the afternoon,” he said. “Everyone knows drinking alone is a nasty habit, so I’ll come with you.”

Vampirella’s cabin was next door. She unlocked it, pushed the door open. Out beyond the square porthole the ocean flashed an intense blue. “No slimy footprints in here,” she said.

Pendragon made his way to the desk, picked up a drinking glass, and filled it brimful with Scotch. “I had the idea this Caribbean cruise would sooth your nerves, child,” he said. “Instead, you’re as jumpy as the proverbial what-you-may-call-it.”

“Yes, I know.” She lifted her suitcase onto the bed and opened it. “There’s something about the SS Triton that spooks me.”

“Indeed? I find it the ultimate in calm respectability.” Pendragon guzzled Scotch. “A huge ship, spotlessly kept (except for the occasional pool of slime) and many of the nubile young lady passengers are—”

“It’s gone!”

“Eh? What?”

“I had my copy of the Crimson Chronicles in here, locked in my suitcase.”

With a shudder the magician drained the glass. “That dreadful tome? I thought you’d destroyed it.”

“No, I’ve kept it since I acquired it in Feldenville.”

“I can’t say I’m sorry it’s gone. It’s an evil book, and if Blackston hadn’t gotten hold of a copy I wouldn’t have spent all those years in—”

“I know how you feel about it,” Vampirella said. “But since the Crimson Chronicles is a sort of perverse bible for the Cult of Chaos it’s important to me to keep the book. I’m still determined to wipe out the remaining branches of—”

“Whoa now, my dear. The central purpose of this voyage is to relax. After your ordeal with—”

“Don’t you comprehend what’s happened?”

“That dreadful book was glommed. Good riddance, say I.”

“Who would take the Crimson Chronicles except someone who knew what it was?” the girl asked him. “And how did they know I had it? They either had advance information…or they sensed it.”

“Ah, alas, yes.” Pendragon refilled his glass. “When you put it that way, Vampirella, I begin to see this may not be the pleasure cruise I had anticipated.”

Vampirella slammed the suitcase shut. “This was only their first move,” she said. “They’ll try something else.”

There was a knock on the cabin door.

Adam swung the car off the coast highway, parked near the château-like restaurant. The Pacific was gray today, matching the overcast sky.

A slim, moustached man greeted him in the foyer of the restaurant. “Table for one, sir?”

“No lunch, thanks. I’ll have a drink at the bar.”

“Very good. To your right, sir.”

“Want to make a phone call first.”

“Down that hallway there, sir, and just past the model of the clipper ship.”

Adam sat in the booth for a full minute, frowning and thoughtful. “Maybe I ought to forget about this. No, I’d better do it.” He dropped in his dime, dialed a number, and was told to deposit more change.

“Famous Bookings,” a husky female voice answered finally.

“Yeah, I’d like to speak to Norm Lane.”

“Beg pardon?”

“Norm Lane. L-a-n-e.”

“I’m afraid we have no one here by that name. Is Mr. Lane perhaps visiting someone here?”

“He’s supposed to be working for you people,” said Adam.That was definitely the same Pendragon had mentioned. “He signed up a couple friends of mine—to go on a Caribbean cruise and entertain on the ship.”

“Mr. Grossman would be the one to handle that type of booking, sir.”

What Adam wanted was, to find out when Vampirella’s ship was due to reach its first Caribbean port. He hadn’t gotten that information from Pendragon before the magician and the girl left Los Angeles. “Well, maybe I better talk to Mr. Grossman, then.”

“Mr. Grossman is on vacation. I could leave a message.”

“It’s something I’d like to find out today. Is there someone else who knows the schedule of the SS Triton?”

“I think you’ve been given a lot of wrong information, sir,” the girl with the husky voice told him. “The SS Triton is not of the ships FB has anything to do with. I really don’t—”

“Yeah, okay, thanks.” Adam hung up. He was certain Pendragon hadn’t lied to him. Equally certain FB was not trying to cover up anything. His original intention had been to fly to the Caribbean and meet Vampirella in the first port the ship docked in. That plan would have to be altered.

Digging out all the change he had, Adam began making a few more phone calls.

Chapter 10

“I’m glad you agreed to have a drink with me,” said the handsome, blond, young man.

“It is a long-standing Pendragon tradition never to turn down a free drink,” said the magician.

“Besides which,” added Vampirella, “you’re more or less our employer, Mr. Trenton.”

Jack Trenton grinned. “I hope that’s not the only reason you came along, Vampirella,” he said. “Granted I do own the Trenton Shipping Line, which includes the SS Triton, but I want you to like me for myself.”

“I may,” she said, “eventually.”

Trenton relaxed in his chair. “You know, when I knocked on your cabin door I…Hi, Claire. How’s Chuck? Good…I know most of the passengers on this trip. Did I mention that? This is a special sort of cruise. I’m treating some of my friends.”

“I admire a man with six hundred friends,” said Pendragon, signaling the waiter.

“Perhaps ‘friends’ isn’t quite the right word,” admitted Trenton. “Nobody, really, has more than a half-dozen real friends. The rest, it’s all casual stuff. So let’s say I have several hundred casual acquaintances and business contacts I owe a favor or two. Once a year I lump ‘em together and do something for the whole shebang. Last year it was a Christmas party in Acapulco. This year it’s a little cruise to the Caribbean. I’ve even been able to convince the IRS it’s a legitimate business expense.”

The waiter’s hand brushed Vampirella’s when he sat down Pendragon’s fresh drink. “Excuse me, miss.”

“Not at all.” A frown touched her face for an instant. The man’s hand had been deathly cold. “You were going to pay us a compliment, Mr. Trenton, before you got sidetracked.”

“Yeah, I was. I saw your show, the late show, last night, and it was absolutely dynamite,” he said, grinning. “Now some of the tricks I’ve seen before, although you do them with great flair. But that finish to the act—that’s dynamite.”

“Yes, isn’t it?” agreed Pendragon.

“I’ve been trying to figure how in the hell you do it.” He shook his head. “When I was a kid I got into magic. With a family like mine I could ask for all kinds of expensive equipment and get it. Lost interest in the hobby finally, but I still know quite a bit about magic.”

“Stage magic, you mean,” said Vampirella.

“Oh, sure. I didn’t mean the real stuff, black magic and all that.” Trenton laughed. “I don’t believe in any of that.”

“Ah, there are more things in heaven and…but you’ve no doubt heard that before.” Pendragon finished off his second drink. “I must go take my afternoon siesta. You two young people stay right here and have fun.” He pushed back and away from the table.

As Pendragon walked away, past the blue-tinted windows of the cocktail lounge, Trenton said, “I guess he trusts you not to give away any secrets.”

Vampirella smiled. “If I told you the secret of that final illusion,” she said, “you’d never believe me.”

Pendragon was dallying. Mention of a nap had been only an excuse to leave Vampirella alone with Trenton. “Nothing like a rich and personable young chap to take a girl’s mind off her troubles,” he muttered.

Below him was the lido deck swimming pool. The magician leaned on a white rail above the pool, watching the young girls at play in the pale blue water.

“I wonder why I’m a leg man,” he pondered. “Now, breast men probably have some sort of maternal fixation. But what do leg men suffer from? Something phallic, perhaps. No, I hardly—”

“Excuse me, Mr. Pendragon,” said the pretty young red-haired girl who’d stopped beside him. She wore a short terry jacket over a minimal bathing suit.

“Ah, yes?”

“You don’t know me—”

“A situation most simply remedied, dear child. I am, as you seem aware, none other than the Great Pendragon. And you?”

“I’m Jaimy Petersen,” replied the girl. “I saw your second performance last night.”

“Indeed? You no doubt want to inquire how exactly the stunning feats of—”

“Oh, yes, I liked the show,” said Jaimy, “I have something else I want to talk to you about, though. Or I think I do. What I mean is—do you know anything about real occult and supernatural things?”

Pendragon hesitated before replying, “As a matter of fact, my dear, I do have some little knowledge in that area. Now then, what exactly is your problem?”

“It’s about…the crew of this boat,” she said slowly and cautiously.

“The crew?”

“Yes. I think a couple of them are…zombies.”

Chapter 11

Trudging up the metal stairway, Pendragon said, “An overly imaginative lass, nothing more.”

Vampirella reached the next deck ahead of him. “I don’t know, I’m not sure.”

The magician followed her to their dressing room. “I admit we’ve encountered some odd things during our brief sojourn together along life’s highway,” he said. “However, the notion there are zombies…”

“There is something wrong with the crew.” Vampirella stepped behind the ornamented screen and began to undress.

Pendragon seated himself in front of the makeup mirror. “(Is this the face that launched a thousand ships?) There are bound to be a few eccentrics in every crew, child.”

“This girl Jaimy claims she saw some sort of living dead man down below, didn’t she?”

“She got lost trying to return to her cabin late last evening, and wandered into the wrong part of the ship,” answered the magician. “She maintains she nearly bumped into this fellow in one of the storage sections down there, and that before she could get back to the civilized part of this pleasure cruiser she had a brush with another man.”

“She lived two years in Haiti, and is supposed to be familiar with zombies.”

“Even so, my dear, that doesn’t mean young Jaimy wasn’t a bit tipsy and imagined that one of the surlier members of the crew was a walking corpse. If I were to chronicle all the things I’ve thought I’ve seen while in my cups it would make the standard bestiary look like—”

“If there is something strange going on about this ship,” interrupted Vampirella, slipping into her scant costume, “then Jack Trenton is involved.”

“Exactly why the idea is so ridiculous. He’s quite obviously an upright fellow.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Eh? Did not these old ears hear you say you were dining with young Trenton tonight between our first and second shows?”

“I want to find out a little more about him.” She emerged from behind the screen. “I’m curious about his interest in us.”

“Seems perfectly natural. You’re a stunning young woman and I’m a stunning old magician,” said Pendragon. “Any right-minded and red-blooded shipping tycoon would be a fool not to seek us out.”

Vampirella shook her head, her long dark hair brushing her bare shoulders. “There’s something wrong with this setup, wrong with the ship and its crew, and quite probably with Jack Trenton as well.”

“What exactly?”

“I’ll find out,” said Vampirella.

Jaimy shivered. She was standing near the rail on A-deck, watching night take over the sea, the blackness filling the sky and the water. Talking to Pendragon this afternoon had made her feel a little better, but she was still uneasy.

“You’re being an idiot,” she told herself. “Here you are on a cruise to the Caribbean, the guest of a good-looking millionaire, and you’re complaining and worrying.”

Jaimy didn’t really know Jack Trenton that well. The agency she worked for handled some of his advertising and she’d met him a few times. There were three other people from her agency on board, an account man and two copywriters.

“I can’t talk to any of them about this,” she said to herself. “They’d simply think I was goofy. Maybe I am.” Shivering again, she turned away from the black ocean, heading for a metal stairway.

She knew exactly where her cabin was now. She could go right to it. No more getting lost like last night.

As Jaimy put the key into the lock of her door she noticed something on the floor of the corridor. A twisted strand of blue-green seaweed, still wet.

“Whoever does Jack Trenton’s housekeeping is a bit sloppy,” she remarked to herself.

She entered her cabin, clicked on a desk lamp. It was nearly time for the first show in the A-deck theater bar. She’d like to see Pendragon again and talk to him. If she was going to make the first show, she’d better start changing.

“Maybe I’ll just sit and think for a while.” Jaimy dropped down into a chair, kicked off one. shoe, and let her legs spread wide. “I really don’t feel much like—What is that?”

A briny sea smell dominated the room.

You weren’t supposed to be able to open these portholes. So why was the ocean smell so strong?

It wasn’t only the sea, it was a smell of sealife, too.

Jaimy stood up, head flicking from side to side.

The bathroom door swung slowly open.

“Who is that?”

No reply, no sound, no sign of anyone.

She stayed where she was. “That door can’t open itself. I know you’re in there. Come out now or I’ll start yelling bloody murder!”

It came out.

Jaimy’s mouth fell open, but she could produce no sound.

A blackish-green hand took hold of her shoulder. Another caught her throat.

Still she could not cry out.

It pulled her to itself, pressed her against its slime-green body. The pressure on her throat grew worse and worse and then there was no more possibility of calling out or speaking.

Not now, not ever.

Chapter 12

They were alone in the cocktail lounge. The hurricane lamp on their table was the only one burning in the entire, long, low glass-walled room. The black night sky, rich with stars, seemed to surround them.

“You’re not doing much business here,” remarked Vampirella.

Trenton grinned. “Actually I had this deck closed to passengers right after we got here. And I sent the bartender off as soon as he mixed our drinks. One of the advantages of owning the ship. If I want to be alone I can arrange it pretty well.”

Vampirella nodded without speaking.

“There are a few things I wanted to talk to you about,” Trenton told her. “We don’t have much more time.”

“We aren’t due in our first port till—”

“Other events are going to…wait. I’d better tell you this from the start.” He reached down under the table, brought up a brown-paper-wrapped parcel. Placing it on the table, he began to unwrap it. “You know what this is, of course.”

“Yes—the copy of the Crimson Chronicles stolen from my cabin.”

“Borrowed,” said Trenton, one hand resting on the cover of the ancient book. “Borrowed for me by one of my servants. You know quite a bit about the Cult of Chaos already, Vampirella, and the uses to which this book can be put. That’s not a question, I know that you do.”

“You knew about me before I ever came aboard the SS Triton, didn’t you?”

“Word of your exploits had reached me, yes,” said Trenton, grinning. “I know the trouble you made for the Companions of Chaos in Feldenville and at Blackston’s carnival.” He folded his hands atop the book, leaning closer to the girl. “I arranged to have you hired. The man who contacted you and Pendragon actually has nothing to do with Famous Bookings. My initial reason for seeing to it that you traveled on this particular cruise was revenge.”

“Isn’t that still what you want?”

“No. No, it isn’t. Now I’ve seen you, been with you awhile…I don’t want you hurt,” he said. “What I’m telling you now is really true. This afternoon, all the business about my rich family was so much baloney. There is no family. This whole shipping line is mine, built up by me…with a little help.” He looked at his watch. “Six years ago I was a stoker on a tanker. Right, six years ago there was no Trenton Shipping Line. In fact, there wasn’t even a Jack Trenton. My real name is…No need to go into that. Enough to say I sure wasn’t a millionaire’s son.”

“I see.”

“Okay, the tanker blew up, not far from where we are right now,” Trenton continued. “I’m not sure…never have remembered what happened the next few minutes. My first memory after the explosion is of floating in the water and holding onto a chunk of lifeboat. Not a whole lifeboat, mind you, just a scrap of one. Enough to keep me afloat. Okay, so there I was. Alive. Far as I ever learned, I was the only survivor. Alive and floating. Floating and floating. Being alive was fine, but I drifted for a whole day without seeing another ship, not so much as a rowboat. No planes went overhead, nothing. Only the sun up there.” He laughed. “The same sun people pay so much to come down here and bask in. I had it all to myself. What I didn’t have, though, was any food or water. Twenty-four hours of drifting without food or water, all day under that sun. I was starting to be sorry I hadn’t gone to the bottom of the sea with the rest of the crew.” He ran his tongue over his lips. “Then I remembered something I’d heard from a one-eyed sailor in Jamaica one night. He swore there were demons who ruled the sea. Creatures who do both good and evil and would help those who prayed to them. Prayed to them, summoned them—made certain bargains with them. So that’s what I did.”

“And it worked,” said Vampirella.

Laughing, Trenton said, “You’re damn right it did. I called on Demogorgan and the demon appeared, rose right up out of the sea. It’s a—Never mind what it looks like.” The grin left his face. “I got everything I wanted. I made my little deal with Demogorgan, everything followed. I was rescued by a Coast Guard ship. I wasn’t back on dry land for more than a few days when things started going my way. It’s been like that, very good, ever since.”

“There’s no bargain made with the Seven Servants of Chaos or with the lesser demons who serve them,” said the girl, “that doesn’t involve a very high price.”

Trenton shrugged. “Okay, so I bartered my soul,” he said. “Death’s a long way off, I’m young. Why worry about it now? Everybody dies, and I’m going to have a hell of a lot more fun along the way than most bastards.”

“There’s more to it than just your soul, isn’t there?”

Looking again at his golden wristwatch, Trenton said, “Demogorgan requires a few favors…a few lives now and then…sacrifices.”

Vampirella’s chair fell over as she leaped up. “That’s coming tonight.”

“This is the first time Demogorgan’s asked for so many. A whole boatload. He’s coming at midnight to take them. But you don’t have to worry, you stay here with me and—”

“Everyone on this ship? You’ll sacrifice them all?”

“The ship, too. That’s the only way I can explain it afterwards. You and I, the only survivors, will be found floating in a very comfortable lifeboat. Originally it was going to be me alone, but then I met you.”

“Pendragon,” said Vampirella. “I’ve got to get to—”

“You won’t miss that old stewbum,” Trenton assured her. “Let him be taken with the rest.” He reached out toward her. “You and I can—”

“No!” Vampirella shoved him away, snatched the ancient book off the table. She went running for the glass door.

Chapter 13

“Cast aside for a handsome lout with huge shoulders and a few million dollars,” said Pendragon as he stared at himself in the makeup mirror. “Ah, well, let Vampirella enjoy a bit of romance tonight. Singly and unaided I will see to it that the show goes on. First, however, a dram of Old Mother Pendragon’s Foolproof Seasick Remedy.” He drank straight from the Scotch bottle this time, wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his tuxedo jacket, and left the dressing room.

Backstage at the theater bar Pendragon signaled to the man who was the master of ceremonies for the ship shows.

“Where’s that delicious, delovely hunk of hubba-hubba you work with, Pendy?”

Pendragon stared down his sharp nose at the smaller man. “You’ve been afloat too long, Fulmer,” he said. “Your patois is dated.”

“I’m hip, I’m hip. So what’s up?”

“I shall do this second show solo,” the magician informed him.

“Vampirella get wise and take a powder?”

“Reluctantly I must announce I’ve had enough of this droll badinage,” said the magician. “Go roll a hoop.”

“Sure, sure,” said Fulmer. “You’re on in five minutes. Soon as the Sunshine Sisters do their country and western medley. I’ll give you a piperoo of an intro, even though you’re always cracking wise with me.”

Standing there, where he could see the audience at their tables and the backsides, of the girl trio, Pendragon felt suddenly very uneasy. “Probably no more than a touch of mal de mer,” he decided.

Finally the ever-jovial Fulmer was at the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, the man I am about to introduce needs no introduction. A legend in his own time, renowned on land, on sea, and in the air. Regarded far and wide as a magician’s magician, a wizard’s wizard—”

“A horse’s ass,” muttered Pendragon.

“I give you the one and only Great Pendragon!”

Straight and unswaying, Pendragon walked out onto the stage and bowed to the politely applauding crowd. The curtains behind him had been drawn so that his more elaborate tricks could be set up by the stage crew. “Dear people (and drunken buffoons), for the next hour (actually fifty-two minutes if I get through it without a hitch) I will attempt to mystify and delight you.” While he spoke he withdrew a short length of rope from inside his jacket. “You’ve no doubt seen rope tricks ere this. Ah, yes, to be sure you have. You have never, I humbly assure you, seen what you are about to see now.”

A girl screamed.

“Please, it’s not that impressive a trick.”

Another woman screamed, and another. Men were shouting now.

Pendragon saw the reason.

An enormous green shape had appeared on the other side of the glass wall of the theater. It was a scaly thing, the size of a two-story building, dripping with seawater and draped with tatters of seaweed. Its arms—there were six of them—ended in taloned hands, and each awful hand was pressed against the glass. The thing’s palms looked like the underbellies of huge slugs, soft and slimy. Its head was a scale-encrusted, bloated globe, with staring eyes and a many-toothed fish mouth.

“Gad,” said Pendragon, dropping his trick rope. “Who conjured up that beast?”

The gigantic creature pressed heavily against the glass that separated it from the crowd. With a shattering crash, louder than the screaming and shouting, the wall gave way and broke into hundreds of jagged fragments. As the sharp slivers came raining down, the creature’s great clawed hands reached into the room. It grabbed up a fat woman with blue-tinted hair, then a thin old man in a very ancient suit of evening clothes.

A young man in the audience broke out one of the fire axes and went charging at the thing, swinging the blade. His first cut dug deep into a scaly arm, and a bluish fluid began to trickle out.

The first two victims were flung out into the night, sailing over the rail and down into the black ocean, where they’d be collected later.

The creature gave his full attention to the man who was annoying him with the ax. Two clawed hands grabbed him up off the floor. Another hand vised down over the man’s head. The young man could scream only once before the thing twisted his head off completely. The head rolled across the slick, black floor of the theater bar and came to rest under a table.

Some of the people in the crowd avoided the bloody trail it had left. Others stepped right through the gore as they started fighting to get away, to get out of here and out of the reach of those enormous hands.

Pendragon was still on the stage, slightly crouched, watching, unable to move.

The creature reached again, this time toward a slim, blond girl. Before the talons caught her, the thing’s bulging eyes turned to look at something outside the theater bar.

Pendragon saw a flash of scarlet out there on the night deck. “Glory be, it’s Vampirella!”

The girl came striding along the deck, showing no trace of fear. Open in her right hand was the ancient Crimson Chronicles. “Listen to me,” she said to the creature. “Listen to me and obey me!” She began to recite a spell from the yellowed pages, a spell first used long centuries ago.

Pendragon dropped from the stage to the floor. He saw something else behind the girl. He elbowed his way through the crowd, brushed by a stiff-standing waiter, and stepped out onto the deck. “Wall being gone saves quite a few steps,” he murmured. He emerged some distance from the huge greenish creature and a yard or two to the rear of Vampirella.

The magician had seen Trenton moving slowly along the deck toward the dark-haired girl. There was a pistol in his hand.

“I have the distinct feeling you’re on the side of the monster,” said Pendragon. He swung his hand out, chopped the .38 from the blond young man’s grasp.

“You crazy drunk!” shouted Trenton. “The two of you are going to wreck everything. Let me stop her. For God’s sake, before it’s too late.”

Pendragon took hold of his arm. “No, let her be.”

The sea creature seemed unable to touch Vampirella. It crouched and sprawled on the deck as the ancient spell unwound.

“We’ll all die now,” said Trenton, trying to break away from Pendragon. The magician’s grip was surprisingly strong. “Demogorgan has to collect them soon or the bargain—Everything will break down. The whole crew, don’t you understand, they’re his people. Sea people, men taken by the sea after wrecks and sinkings. Brought to life by Demogorgan to serve him. And to serve me. If he deserts me…they’ll all be dead again.”

“Too bad, but that doesn’t move me to pity.”

“Listen, listen!” said Trenton, checking his watch. “We have to get off the ship. It’s all set to blow in about three minutes.”

“Blow?”

“To make it look like an accident at sea. I can’t go turning over all these souls to the servants of Chaos and not fake it to look like an accident,” said Trenton, breathing quickly. “Come on, there’s not much time. We need the crew to help us break out the raft and get away before the ship explodes. If she uses one of those damn spells to stop Demogorgan then everything will fall apart.”

“Return to the sea!” Vampirella was ordering the gigantic creature.

It made its first sound of the evening. A terrible wailing scream. Then it began shambling for the rail.

“No, you can’t do that!” Trenton broke free of the magician, went running along the deck to the creature.

Vampirella jumped aside and Trenton went rushing by. He reached out to the thing.

“You can’t go away,” he shouted, pleadingly. “We have a bargain. You must do what I ask!”

Two of the scaly arms grasped Trenton, dragging him down into the sea.

“Quickly, dear child, we have to get away from here!”

“What?”

“That idiot has the ship rigged to blow up at any—”

From deep within the ship came the roaring sound of the first explosion.

Chapter 14

The blind man stood at the edge of the sea as the foaming surf came rushing in at him. It died before reaching him, playing out a few inches from his feet. “Adam,” he said, without turning his blind eyes from the morning ocean.

“I’m going on a short jaunt,” his son told him. He had come down the sand from the beach house and stopped several feet from the old man.

“Yes, I know.”

“You had a premonition,” Adam said, nodding.

“Yes, I know you’re flying to Florida,” said old Van Helsing. “Since I’ve been blind, you know, my ability to see into the future has increased immeasurably. I’ve known since last evening what you were planning to do.”

“Then you probably know why, too.”

“Yes, Adam, I know that as well,” the blind man replied.

“Okay, then there’s nothing much else for me to say,” said Adam. “I can make arrangements to get someone on to look after—”

“No, I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself,” said his father. “I think, Adam, I had better warn you that I am not giving up my quest. Vampirella is a dangerous killer—and she must be destroyed. I intend to pursue her, find her, and drive a stake through her heart.”

Adam watched his father for a moment before speaking. “Then I guess we’re going to be on opposing sides from now on, Dad.”

“Yes, if that’s the way it has to—Ah!” His hands shot up to clutch his chest.

“What’s wrong?”

“I saw something. Something that’s going to happen,” Van Helsing answered.

“Maybe you’d better keep it to yourself. I’m going to be on my own from now on, without the benefit of your psychic visions.”

“Adam…”

“Yeah?”

“Be careful,” said his father. “Should you change your mind we can still—”

“No, Dad,” said Adam, “I won’t change my mind. This is good-bye.” He walked away and left the blind man standing there at the edge of the sea.

Adam heard about it fifteen minutes after he arrived in Florida. It was a warm sultry night, his cab driver wore no shirt. The local news was crackling out of the cab radio.

“…still no trace of any survivors of the SS Triton. In fact, except for a few fragments of the superstructure the great ship itself hadn’t—”

“Good Christ!” exclaimed Adam. “The Triton?”

The driver scratched his hairless chest. “She went down sometime last night, they figure. First time you heard about it?”

“Yes.” Adam leaned forward. “They haven’t found any survivors?”

“Not a one.”

“What happened to the ship, do they know?”

“Some kind of explosion, probably.”

“It’s still possible some of the passengers survived, though, isn’t it? The fact that none have been picked up so far doesn’t necessarily mean there aren’t any survivors.”

“Sure, there could be people floating around out there somewheres. It’s a big ocean.” The driver studied Adam in his rear-view mirror. “You know somebody who was on the Triton?”

“Yes,” replied Adam numbly. “A couple of friends of mine were on board.”

“Okay, sure, there’s a chance, Adam, but—”

“Don’t start quoting me odds, Tony.”

The two men were in a small office building at the edge of a private airfield. Midnight had passed, the air was still thick and humid.

Tony DelGado was a short, almost bald young man a year or so older than Adam. They’d been in the service together, and Adam had phoned him yesterday to hire Tony’s plane to fly him to the island in the Carribean where the SS Triton was due to make its first stop. That was yesterday. Now…

“We can look,” said Tony. “Just don’t get your hopes too high. The Coast Guard has been scouring the area all day. They haven’t spotted one passenger so far.”

“I know, I know.” Adam sat down in a wooden chair near his friend’s desk.

“I haven’t seen you this enthusiastic about a girl since—”

“She’s a special sort of girl.”

Tony said, “Well, let’s be optimists about this whole business. Doesn’t cost any more. I used to be pretty good at picking up girls. Let’s anticipate finding her tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“I’m not equipped to search for anybody at night, Adam,” said his friend. “You ought to get some sleep anyway. Come on over and use the guest room at our place. You haven’t met my latest wife.”

“Thanks, but I’d rather stay here. I want to keep listening to the radio, see if they spot anybody.”

“Well, okay.” Tony yawned. “I’ll embark for home. See you back here by dawn’s early light. Okay?”

“Yeah, Tony, thanks.” When his friend was gone Adam turned on the radio on the desk. He listened all night. There was no further news about the SS Triton or any survivors.

Chapter 15

“I have an overwhelming urge to quote from The Ancient Mariner.” said Pendragon. He was in his shirt-sleeves, a silk bandanna serving to protect his head from the glare of the midday sun. “The book I pen about our sufferings in an open boat will touch the hearts of millions. I intend to call it Forty Days Without Booze.”

“Only been a day and a half,” Vampirella reminded him. She was still wearing her crimson costume from the act.

They were surrounded by a hot blue glare. Just two alone in the inflated lifeboat. No trace of the rest of the world had they seen since the Triton sank.

“Even though we’re without Scotch, we do have food and (you should pardon the expression) water,” said the magician. “Not to mention a coat full of my smaller tricks and illusions. You won’t be bored on this cruise, child. Why, with no more than a deck of regulation playing cards—”

“We were lucky to be able to find this raft in the time we had.”

“Perhaps I had a premonition, a prevision of that floating hotel sinking to the bottom of the ocean,” said Pendragon. “So I made it my business to know where at least one raft was stashed.”

“This is the one Trenton was planning to use,” said Vampirella. “If only we’d been able to save some of the others!”

“Yes, I know. There was that young girl who first warned me of the true nature of Trenton’s crew,” said Pendragon. “I fear—”

“Yes, she must be dead. All of them must be dead,” said the dark-haired girl. “Dead and in Demogorgan’s domain after all, along with Trenton himself.”

Despite the heat the magician shuddered. “A dreadful bargain he made,” he said. “And that crew. I couldn’t help noting, once you’d used the spell out of that wretched book, how those animated corpses began to revert to their earlier state. Rotting away in seconds—Gad, a fearful reminder of my own mortality. I really must resolve to lead a better life in the years I have left to me.”

Vampirella glanced up at the burning sky. “There’s something else we’re going to have to come to grips with soon.”

“Eh? Some further problem?”

“I was carrying a vial of the blood-substitute serum with me,” Vampirella said. “I used that during the night, while you slept. By tonight I must have…well, either a new supply of the serum or…”

“Yes, I see. In my preoccupation with my own safety I quite forgot about that,” said the magician. “The rest of the blood substitute sank with the ship, eh?”

“Yes, along with all our belongings and most of your equipment,” the girl said. “Now listen, Pendragon, if we don’t spot land by dusk I’ll have to—”

“Now, child, don’t make any drastic plans,” he told her hastily. “We’re partners, remember, and partners we’ll stay. I was passing the time a bit earlier by telling my fortune with the cards. And I saw a speedy rescue, a lush tropical paradise, and all our needs satisfied. Let us, therefore, anticipate only good fortune beyond the horizon.”

Vampirella smiled. “All right, for now I’ll try to look on the bright side.”

“Splendid,” said the magician. No need to tell her what else he had seen in the cards.

They saw it at the day’s end. The red sun fell from the sky, darkness swept across the water.

Pendragon could not refrain from standing up in the raft. “Land ho!” he shouted.

It was land, an island there about a half-mile ahead of them. A narrow sandy beach and then trees and much brush. No sign of human habitation.

“Sit down,” warned Vampirella. “I don’t want the sharks getting you.”

“Gad, I feel positively like Robinson Crusoe.” The magician reseated himself. “Or possibly Christopher Columbus. Yes, after a long and hazardous journey across the perilous sea I have found land, a safe haven.”

Vampirella sat quietly across the boat from him, rubbing one hand slowly up and down along her inner thigh. Rubbing hard enough to make glowing red marks. “Pendragon, when we get there,” she said, in a slow and careful voice, “we’ll have to part company. I won’t risk staying with you, because I can only hold out a few hours more, and then…”

“Come, child, don’t let the unsettled look of yonder isle make you glum,” said Pendragon. “This may be the back view of the place. Why, they may have a whole town somewhere on this island. With hotels, a hospital, a Kentucky Fried Chicken outlet—all the blessings of modern civilization. And we’ll surely be able to find some kind of laboratory where you can have more of the blood-substitute serum made.”

Vampirella shook her head. “I don’t think so,” she said. “Even if there are people, it may take us hours to find them. Until then, I just cannot trust myself. You don’t seem to understand, Pendragon, that I am perfectly capable of attacking you. When the need for blood is strong enough I—”

“I understand full well, my child,” he told her. “However, I’m willing to risk it, rather than have us separate on this uncharted isle in the middle of nowhere.”

“No, we can’t stay together.” Their craft was bobbing more rapidly now as they neared the beach. A moment later Vampirella leaped from the raft, and walked through the surf pulling it after her.

When they were on the sandy beach, Pendragon left the raft. He knelt on the sand and planted a kiss. “Saw a chap do that in a motion picture once and I’ve always wanted to try it,” he said. “Never had an opportunity before this.” He straightened up and looked around him.

“No sign of life,” the girl said.

“The natives may all be home watching the evening news on television,” said Pendragon. “Don’t despair, Vampirella. We’re certain to find people and some kind of settlement.”

“Let’s haul our raft up into the brush up there, so the sea won’t take it back.”

“Very well, heave ho.”

They carried the raft up across the twilight beach.

“No footprints of any kind on the beach,” said Vampirella after they’d set the craft down. “Notice that?”

“This may not be the most popular beach on the island.”

She ran a hand across her bare middle and hugged herself. “We have to separate now, Pendragon,” she said. “If everything goes well, we can meet in the morning. Back here at this same piece of beach.”

“I still maintain we needn’t—”

“Yes, we have to,” said Vampirella. “I may be able to find some…something to satisfy the need…somewhere in this forest. But if I stay with you, I can’t…Go on now.”

The magician gave a resigned shrug. He bent to gather up his cloak out of the raft. “It may grow chill as night descends,” he said. “Very well then, my dear, I shan’t argue further with you. I’ll forge on to the north (or whatever direction this is that I’m facing) and bring the inhabitants of this island the glad tidings that Pendragon and Co. have arrived. Who knows, we might get a booking in the local bistro. Since the Famous Bookings deal proved to be a hoax, we need all the help we can get.”

Vampirella managed to smile at him. “Okay, good luck,” she said. She turned, pushed into the tangle of brush and palm trees. In a few moments the jungle and the darkness had swallowed all trace of her.

“Well, now, Mr. Crusoe,” said Pendragon to himself, “let us be up and doing.” He took a tin of biscuits out of the raft, a flask of water. “I could use a good flashlight and possibly a gun. Lacking those, I’d best push onward. Being Robinson Crusoe does entail a certain amount of roughing it.”

He entered the darkening forest, muttering at the vines and bushes that slowed his progress, slapping at the insects that discovered him. After about ten minutes of sweaty hiking, the magician stumbled onto a cleared patch of jungle.

“Gad, unless my eyes deceive me, this is a trail,” he said, crouching and squinting. It was a path, about three feet wide and stretching ahead through the jungle. “A trail worn here by human feet, I wager. Yes, and by feet wearing shoes and boots. Good! I am on the road to civilization, then. I’ll find the town, arrange for a facility to make up a new batch of the blood-substitute, and then I’ll—”

Pendragon slowed on the new-found trail. There was a faint noise behind him. The noise someone would make moving stealthily along the trail in his wake.

Swallowing, Pendragon turned. “Is that you, Vampirella?”

It was not Vampirella.

Chapter 16

The triumphant snarl came roaring through the dark jungle. It was followed seconds later by a shout for help.

“Pendragon!” Vampirella exclaimed.

She pivoted to face the direction from which she’d come. For an instant she stood perfectly still, then her lithe body wavered. The girl vanished. A large black bat circled the place where she’d stood. The bat rose upward, above the tops of the trees and palms.

From below there came another cry from Pendragon.

The bat swooped low, dove down toward the jungle foliage.

Pendragon was pressing back against the bole of a tree, hands spread out in front of him.

Hunched on the trail a few feet from him was a manlike figure. It wore a thorn-ripped pair of khaki trousers and the tatters of a tan shirt. Its powerful body was covered with thick gray fur. Its head was a distorted blend of human and animal features.

Snarling again, the beast-man stalked closer to Pendragon.

“You’re certainly persistent for a hallucination,” said the magician. “Shoo now, go back to your kennel.”

Teeth bared, eyes narrowed, the beast-man hunched down further. He was preparing to jump straight at Pendragon.

The black bat came hurtling down through the night jungle. In midair there was a transformation, and what hit the surprised beast-man was the figure of Vampirella.

Her fingers grasped his shaggy throat, tightened.

He growled, twisted his shoulders, clawed at the girl behind him.

Vampirella kept her choking fingers in place. She thrust a long leg between the beast-man’s legs and tripped him over onto the trail.

The two rolled and tumbled, the beast-man snarling, growling, trying to use his teeth on the dark-haired girl. He brought his knees up into her bare stomach.

Vampirella gasped out breath, let go of the creature for an instant.

The beast-man raked a hand across her chest, digging a bloody red line between her breasts. His head tightened in on his neck, then he lunged for her throat with his teeth.

But Vampirella was not where he’d anticipated. She had rolled aside. Her hands snapped up and caught his throat once again. The girl’s eyes were glowing now, her lips had pulled back from her sharp white teeth.

Against the tree Pendragon turned away as Vampirella’s teeth found the beast-man’s neck and sank into it, sank deep.

Vampirella remained bent over the sprawled body of the beast-man for long minutes. At last she rose up. The glow was fading from her eyes as she wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. The hand came away bloody.

The old air-conditioner chugged and wheezed but made the darkened room very little cooler than the night jungle outside. The blond man sitting in the wicker chair near the air-conditioner was in his early thirties. He took another sip of his gin and tonic, from which the ice had long since melted. Wiping at his bushy moustache, he glanced once again toward the bedroom door.

She was stirring in there, moving across the mat rags. The darkness grew deeper around the house and a window in the bedroom creaked open.

“She’s gone,” said the man. “Once again, and there’s still nothing I can do about it.” He slouched in the chair a moment longer before getting up.

He wandered into the kitchen, turned on the light. Dozens of brownish-white insects began to swirl around the hanging lamp. The bowl of ice cubes he’d left on the table was a bowl of tepid water now. He decided not to have another drink.

“This is always the worst time,” he said to himself. “Twilight and then night. Knowing what’s going to happen and not being able to do anything.”

He walked through the jungle house, out to the screened verandah. For a while there was relative silence all around. The hum of insects, the calls of night birds, the usual sounds which surrounded his place here.

Then, from some distance off, a fierce animal howl.

He knew what that was. He went back inside the house, dropped down into the wicker chair to wait.

Chapter 17

First it sputtered, then it died. Started again, sputtered and died for good and all.

“Engine trouble,” said Tony DelGado.

“I noticed,” said Adam, in the seat next to him.

“If we’re lucky,” said his friend as he struggled with the plane’s controls, “we’ll find a place to set her down on that island.”

They’d sighted the island moments before the plane’s engine had started acting up.

Adam was watching the fast-approaching island. “Doesn’t seem to be settled,” he said. “No sign of an airfield, certainly.”

“A big enough piece of beach’ll do in a pinch.”

Their ship was gliding down toward the island through the new morning.

“I think I see a spot,” said Tony. “Well be okay if we don’t hit these—”

They hit the trees.

Pendragon poked a foot at the ancient book. “This wicked tome is the cause of our bad luck,” he said.

He and Vampirella were back at the beached raft, unloading the few supplies they’d been able to salvage from the sinking SS Triton.

“We’ve had exceptionally good luck,” the girl told him, “all things considered. If I hadn’t had the Crimson Chronicles I wouldn’t have been able to order Trenton’s pet demon back into the ocean. And don’t forget, we’re apparently the only survivors of the ship.”

The magician shrugged. “When you put it that way, I can see that the book may have some value,” he said, nibbling at one of the biscuits from the tin they’d brought along in the raft. “However, I live for the moment, and I’m bound to say that we could have picked a better island to get marooned on.”

“We’re not marooned,” Vampirella said. “We can always hop back in the raft and push on to another island.”

“Yes, I suppose there must be another island hereabouts,” said Pendragon. “All this ocean makes a good place to put islands. However, I have that common fear of undiscovered country that might be even worse than this. So let’s stay here and see what happens.”

Vampirella looked away from him, looked out at the bright morning sea. “That…the beast-man last night,” she said.

“No need to talk about that, child.”

“He was wearing store-bought clothes, Pendragon,” she said. “Which means at one time or other he had some contact with civilization.”

“It didn’t teach him any manners,” said the magician. “In better circles the host is not expected to devour the guest. Ah, but I see what you’re getting at. You suspect there may be an outpost of civilization right on this very island.”

“Well, I’m a newcomer to your world,” the girl said, “but I’ve never run into anything like that beast-man. Something—or more likely someone—made him into what he was.”

“Do we want to find that someone especially?”

“I’m afraid we do,” said Vampirella. “When night comes on again, Pendragon, I…I must have blood again. Unless I can find some way to produce a fresh supply of the blood-substitute serum—”

“Listen!” exclaimed Pendragon. “These old ears hear an airplane motor.”

Vampirella gazed up into the morning sky. “Yes, there it is,” she said. “That yellow monoplane.”

“Going to fly directly over this blighted isle, I’d say.” He snatched his cloak up out of the raft, ran down the sandy beach, and began waving the plaid cloak in the air. “Yoo hoo! Here we are, fellows! All ready to be rescued.”

Suddenly the plane was silent. Its engine had ceased to function.

“They’re having trouble,” said Vampirella. “Look at the way she’s wobbling.”

“Lord, don’t crash now,” shouted Pendragon at the plane. “You’re supposed to rescue us, remember?”

The monoplane came gliding in toward the island. It didn’t come anywhere near their beach, but was plummeting toward the jungle a mile to the south of them.

The sound of the crash came rumbling to Vampirella and Pendragon.

The girl caught his arm. “Let’s go,” she said. “We have to get to them.”

“Drats,” muttered the magician. “That’s the most frustrating rescue attempt I’ve ever been involved in.”

Jean-Pierre Dargaud was pacing the verandah. A cup of cold coffee sat on the round wooden table near by. He tugged now and then at his blond moustache, glancing at the doorway of the house.

Dargaud twisted his hands together, stopped pacing. He pressed his head against the screening, watching the jungle beyond the house. How much longer are we going to have to stay here? How many months, how many years?

A woman appeared in the doorway. She was pretty and slender, her skin a pale white. Her hair was blue-black. She had a silk robe wrapped around her. Beneath her eyes were smudges of shadow. “Good morning,” she said.

“Yes, good morning,” he said. “You need more rest, Monique. You—”

“I’m fine, Jean-Pierre,” she said. Leaning against the door jamb, arms folded beneath her breasts, Monique watched her husband. “Something has happened.”

Dargaud crossed to her, took hold of her shoulders. “What? Something good?”

The lovely woman shook her head. “He’s dead.”

“Who? You mean Baptiste?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Why did you—”

“But I didn’t,” replied his wife. “I found him dead. Shortly before dawn, near the south trail.”

“Wait now,” said Dargaud. “What in the hell killed him? You don’t mean he simply died? I don’t think with the formula as it’s now compounded there can be—”

“Something killed him,” said Monique. “Tore at his throat. He was all bloody.”

A deep frown came to Dargaud’s face. “That’s impossible, Monique. What could there be out there that’s powerful enough to have killed Baptiste?”

“I don’t know,” she answered.

“Damn,” said her husband. “Baptiste was a great step ahead. What are we going to do now?”

“We’ll have to advertise for new servants,” she said. “Probably raise the salary promised, since there is a strong reluctance to come to our remote little island paradise.”

“Yes, yes, we can do that,” said Dargaud. “But that means weeks of time going by, time wasted.”

“We must wait longer, Jean-Pierre. What else can—Wait. I hear something.”

Dargaud heard it, too. An airplane engine, coughing and sputtering. “A plane,” he said.

He pushed through the screen door, ran down the steps of the jungle house. “Yes, there it is,” he said, pointing skyward. “A private plane, in some sort of trouble.”

Monique joined him at the bottom of the steps in time to see the monoplane go plunging into the nearby jungle. “You must get to them,” she said.

“Yes,” said her husband. “Now perhaps we won’t have to wait.”

Chapter 18

The birds came back. Scarlet, green, yellow, flickering down through the tangle of branches and vines, settling again on their perches. A few explored the twisted wings and smashed fuselage of the downed plane.

Adam extracted himself from his seat, shook his head, blinked, coughed. He had the impression he’d lost a few minutes out of his life. He could remember everything up to the moment of impact. After that came a blank, then the relative silence of the surrounding jungle and their ship hanging like a huge crucifix ten feet from the ground. The plane was wedged there, prevented from falling further by the density of the forest. It hadn’t caught fire.

Not yet, anyway. Adam made his way across the slanted cabin to Tony’s side. “Hey, old sport, we’ve landed.”

His friend did not stir. There was a deep red gash across his forehead.

“Tony. You okay?” Pulse was there, regular. Adam detached the unconscious pilot from his chair.

The plane was suspended at such an angle that when Adam let go of the pilot seat he and Tony slid across the cabin floor. Adam caught the door handle as they went by. Keeping one arm around his friend, he forced the door open.

He eased out of the dangling ship, tugging Tony halfway out after him. Glancing down, Adam saw enough sturdy branches to serve as a ladder to the ground.

“All right, Tony, I’m going to do my Tarzan act,” he said.

His friend groaned but did not open his eyes.

Adam shifted him all the way out of the tilted cockpit and slung him over his shoulder.

Then he began making his way down through the tree.

The jungle birds scattered again, cawing, scolding, their bright wings flapping and carrying them up and away into the bright sky.

Adam was nearly to the ground with his burden when he saw the blond man. “Hey,” he called. “My friend’s hurt. Can you give me a hand getting him safely down?”

The blond man remained where he was, a dozen yards away. The barrel of the rifle he carried tilted up to point at Adam.

Pendragon stumbled again. “Confound it,” he said as Vampirella helped him to. his feet. “I’ve long suspected I was best suited to urban life. This but confirms it.” Wincing, he rubbed at his ankle.

“Never have I encountered such an obstacle-strewn patch of landscape.”

“Try not to fall anymore.”

“I appreciate your concern for my venerable old frame, my dear.”

“The point is,” said Vampirella, pushing on, “that every time you hit the dirt it makes an awful racket.”

“Admittedly I haven’t mastered the art of quiet falling over.” Puffing, he followed her through the brush. “Frankly, though, I can’t see it makes much difference.”

“I have a feeling we ought to be as quiet as possible.”

“Seems to me whoever is in that fallen plane will welcome the cheerful sound of approaching succor.”

“Maybe so, but they’re not the only ones on this island.”

“Ah, yes,” said the magician. “I’d been trying to forget that beast-man who would have added me to his menu had it not been for you. Surely, my dear, you don’t anticipate a whole clan of those shaggy wretches?”

“I anticipate trouble,” replied the girl. “I’m not certain what form it’ll take.”

“Well, your hunches are ofttimes pretty accurate. Would that I had such a gift for seeing into the future,” said Pendragon. “Or perhaps not, now I think on it. A sneak preview of my future might chill me to—”

“Hush, now.” Vampirella stopped and pointed.

The sun caught a raw spot on the wing of the ruined plane, making it flash and sparkle.

“Ah, we’ve reached our objective.” Pendragon went ahead of the girl. He spotted the dark-haired man climbing down through the trees from the ship and carrying an injured man with him. “By jove! I do believe that’s Adam Van Helsing!” He started to run as rapidly as he could toward the plane wreck. “Adam, ahoy!”

“Wait,” called Vampirella softly.

But Pendragon’s enthusiasm over recognizing Adam kept him going, heedless of anything else.

He reached the ground beneath the plane just as Adam did. “My boy, you’re a most welcome sight.”

Not speaking, Adam inclined his head toward something behind the magician.

Pendragon turned and saw Jean-Pierre Dargaud.

Dargaud’s rifle swung for an instant in his direction. “Three of you,” he said with a satisfied smile. “Yes, more than I hoped for. Come along with me, gentlemen.”

Chapter 19

“Yes, she survived,” said Pendragon in a whisper. “She’s on this very island, though I don’t know where she’s gotten—”

“That will be enough conversation, gentlemen.”

They were being herded along the trail which led to the Dargaud bungalow and outbuildings. Tony was still unconscious. Adam and the magician were carrying him between them.

“A little light banter makes a hike more—”

“Enough,” said Dargaud. He jabbed the rifle into Pendragon’s back.

“Oof,” muttered the magician. “Gad, my kidneys were in ghastly shape already, sir, without being prodded.”

“You will have plenty of time to converse when we reach the laboratory,” promised Dargaud. “For now, I must repeat my request that you remain silent.”

“Laboratory?” said Adam. “Are you a doctor?”

“You will not find a diploma hanging on my wall,” Dargaud said. “I studied medicine, but never completed my internship.”

“Then you can do something for Tony,” said Adam. “He needs medical attention.”

“There is nothing seriously wrong with him,” said Dargaud. “I want him to recover as much as you do, my friend.”

They traveled the rest of the way in silence.

“Ah, a breath of civilization in the midst of rude nature,” observed Pendragon when they reached the clearing in front of the large bungalow.

Dargaud gave him another nudge with the rifle. “Take the path to the right, go around the house.”

“Making us use the servants’ entrance?” said the magician.

“As a matter of fact, we have no servants at the moment,” said Dargaud. “Our last remaining employee was killed last night. I have not yet investigated the causes.”

To the rear of the bungalow were two large, shedlike buildings. The one on their right was painted a dusky white.

The air-conditioners inside the lab worked perfectly. It was cool and clean-smelling. White cabinets lined the walls. There were three white examination tables near the center of the room, working lights dangling above them.

“You may deposit your friend on the middle table,” instructed Dargaud. “Then back over against that drug cabinet there. Don’t attempt anything while I examine him.” Leaning his rifle against the side of the table, Dargaud bent over the unconscious Tony.

“You and Vampirella,” said Adam in a low voice when he and the magician stood against the wall. “How long have you been here?”

“Our raft docked last evening,” replied Pendragon.

“What happened to the SS Triton?”

“Ah, ‘tis a long and complicated yarn, Adam. Also an unpleasant one,” said Pendragon. “I’ll tell you sometime when circumstances are more cheerful.”

“Any other survivors?”

“Alas, I fear not.”

Watching them, Dargaud crossed to a white sink. He soaped and washed his hands, put on a pair of plastic surgical gloves. He proceeded to clean Tony’s wound, poking at his skull and examining his eyeballs by thumbing up the lids. “As I thought,” he said. “No serious injury done. He should be awakening in a few more minutes.” As he talked he applied gauze and then tape to the gash.

“What precisely are we trespassing on here?” asked Adam. “Are you the only person on this island?”

“At the moment my wife and I are the sole inhabitants,” answered Dargaud. “My laboratory was set up for the purpose of aiding my wife.”

“I don’t see why, then, you have to hold us at gunpoint,” said Adam.

“I’m going to need you,” explained Dargaud. “You see, my wife’s well-being is the essential motive behind all that I do. Naturally I can’t expect you to share my feelings. Therefore, I must force you to cooperate.”

“We might well volunteer,” said Pendragon. “You haven’t given us the chance, however.”

Dargaud laughed. “I am certain, when you learn more of the nature of my work here, you will not step forward and voluntarily assist me,” he said. “That hasn’t been my experience with the others.”

“You’ve had other prisoners here?” Adam asked.

“Yes, several in the two years that Monique and I have resided on our island.”

“None of them are here now,” said Adam.

“Well, none of them ever left the island.”

Pendragon sighed out his breath. “This conversation is taking a decidedly glum turn,” he observed. “Am I right in assuming, sir, that your guests rarely come out of this situation alive?”

“You are absolutely right, sir,” Dargaud told him.

Alone on the verandah, Monique’ sipped slowly at her chilled Chablis. The afternoon was drawing to a close, the sky above the thick surrounding jungle was starting to take on a purplish-red hue. Hearing a rustling in the brush, she turned to look toward the trail. “Any luck?”

Dargaud came tramping up to their house, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead. “There may very well be others on our island,” he said, coming up the wooden steps. “More than the three I’ve caught.”

The lovely girl smiled, with the rim of the wineglass touching her lips. “That’s interesting.”

Her husband leaned his rifle against the porch rail, touched his wife’s shoulder with his fingertips. “I found a lifeboat, hidden but not well enough to elude me, on the other side of the island.”

“Then that must be how the old man got to us.”

“Yes, despite his evasiveness, it’s obvious he wasn’t in the plane with the other two.”

“How many more do you think might be loose out there?” asked Monique.

Dargaud shook his head. “One or two,” he said, settling into a wicker chair near her. “I found Baptiste, too. Later on I’ll have some of our guests help me bring his body home.” He watched his wife’s profile. “It wasn’t you who did that to him?”

“No, it was not,” she said. “Not my style at all—you must have seen that.”

Scowling, Dargaud said, “What was it, then? Marks on his throat, blood drained from him.”

Monique sipped again at her wine. “I’m more interested in what’s going to happen tonight than in what happened last night,” she said. “I want you to let one of them loose.”

“I need all three,” said Dargaud. “If I’m ever going to find a—”

“I want one of them,” persisted Monique. “Tonight.”

Dargaud placed his hand over hers. She pulled her hand away. He said, “All right, but that means more waiting, more time passing. The loss of Baptiste was bad enough without—”

Her fingers for an instant arched, making her slender hand resemble a claw. The fingertips dug into his wrist. “I won’t be thwarted, Jean-Pierre,” she said in a low, intense voice. “I must hunt tonight. If I don’t there’s—”

“Very well,” her husband said. “You can have the old man.”

Monique’s nostrils flared as she shook her head. “No,” she said. “I need the young one, the handsome dark young man.”

Dargaud said, “He’s the most valuable of the lot, Monique. I need the strongest of them for my own work.”

“I want him. That’s it, Jean-Pierre.”

After a moment Dargaud replied, “Then you shall have him.” He stood.

His lovely wife smiled up at him. “Release him at midnight,” she said. “I’ll…be waiting. It should be very…exciting.”

Dargaud went away from her.

Chapter 20

Dusk showed at the laboratory windows.

Adam and Dargaud sat facing each other, on folding chairs at one end of the white room. Tony, conscious now, was strapped to the examination table, and Pendragon, hands strapped behind him, was propped against the far wall, muttering.

“I am sorry, truly, that it must be you, my friend.” Dargaud held a pistol resting on his knee.

“You’ll forgive me if I find it tough to think of you as sorry about anything,” said Adam. “What exactly is it you have in mind for me?”

“First…first I must tell you a few things,” Dargaud said. “Monique and I were married nearly five years ago. In fact, next month will mark our fifth anniversary.”

“Congratulations.”

“Both our families were relatively well off,” Dargaud resumed. “So that we suffered none of the usual struggles of a young married couple. I had none of the problems of your average medical student. We lived very comfortably just outside Paris. It was a very fine life all around, my friend. But then something happened. At first we weren’t even certain what. I was a medical student, true, yet I didn’t immediately recognize what was happening to my wife. The odd fevers, the spells of lethargy, the mood changes. Even the first physician we consulted was puzzled, failing to detect the problem. Finally I took my wife to a specialist, a man I had once studied with. It was he who told us. Monique had a rare type of blood cancer. She would, at the absolute best, live another six months. There was no cure, no effective way to stop the disease from taking her.” Dargaud paused. “That was four years ago.”

“You mean you found a cure?”

Nodding, Dargaud answered, “Oh, yes. Yes, I found a cure.”

“Then why come to this island, away from everything? Don’t you want to share the cure with—”

“No, I don’t. No, there’s no reason why anyone else should have to suffer this. I must make it clear to you that in this case the cure is worse than the disease.”

“I don’t quite—”

“Nor did I,” said Dargaud. “Though, certainly, I should have.” The lab windows were dark now. “Drawing on family money, I set up a laboratory in Paris. I concentrated on only one thing. I hired, the best biochemists, blood specialists to help me. I had to find a cure for the disease that was going to take Monique from me so soon. The time went on, rushed on, and we came up with nothing, no solution. Monique was obviously dying now, wasting away. That is why I did what I did.”

“Did what?”

“It was about four months after we had first learned of her illness. I rarely left my work, only to visit Monique. This particular night, though, I left the laboratory to take a walk. I don’t know, my friend, perhaps I was thinking of doing myself in. That way the burden of all this would be lifted. I walked. It was a wet, windy night, but that didn’t bother me. After an hour or more I turned into a little side street, the rue Ackerman it was, and came upon a small, shabby bookshop. Its lighted interior suddenly seemed more pleasant than the foul night, and so I entered. That was, as you’ll shortly come to realize, a very great mistake. Well, a mistake…and yet had I not found that terrible book Monique would be long in her grave by now.”

“A book? Was it the Crimson Chronicles you found?”

Dargaud stared. “Yes, it was,” he said. “But how did you guess such a thing?”

“Our method of meeting was so informal,” said Adam, “that I never got around to introducing myself. I’m Adam Van Helsing. My father and I are what you might call occult detectives.”

“Ah, I see,” Dargaud said. “Then you know all about that book. You know what it promises…and what it takes from you.”

“Very well, yes. You used the Crimson Chronicles to save your wife’s life.”

“I can still see the expression on the old bookseller’s face when I picked that book from the top of a dusty pile,” said Dargaud. “The kind of smile with which they’ll welcome you to hell. At the time, though, I didn’t realize what it meant. I was drawn to the book, that I know. Possibly drawn to that little shop, too. I sometimes think that Chaos and his Seven Servants had already put their mark on me—that I was meant to go to that shop and buy that book. Which would make me a fatalist, I suppose.”

“And would also make you not responsible for what you’ve done.”

Dargaud laughed. “Ah, my friend,” he said, “there are so many worse things in the world than death. The few men’s deaths that are on my hands—it’s nothing. To live, to live the way Monique and I have since I made my bargain with Chaos, can be far worse than death.”

“What exactly was the bargain?”

“I took the book back to my laboratory, sat there most of the night going through its ancient pages,” said Dargaud, laughing again. “Yes, it was truly a book I could not put down.”

“You asked for help in finding a cure, is that it?”

“Yes, exactly,” said Dargaud. “I made certain promises…You have, surely, been in love yourself, my friend. I loved Monique much more than—Well, I would have made much worse bargains to keep her alive—then. I worked all the next day, in something of a stupor, hardly aware of my co-workers in the lab. To this day I’m not sure how I concocted the serum. I was convinced, however, that it would work. At nightfall I went rushing out of the place, rushed to our home. I shoved the nurse out of the room and injected the serum into my wife.” He let out his breath, slumping slightly in the chair. “Yes, I remember that night very well, too. Within a few days it was evident Monique was getting better. In a month she was as she had been. I feared perhaps it was only a temporary remission, but it held. Another month and she was still in beautiful health. I closed the lab, shook hands with all my colleagues. There was no one happier, even the bargain I had made with Chaos did not weigh on my mind. I had Monique, you see, I had won. I had fought with death for her and won. Ah, my friend, to win such a battle…We went to the countryside to have a vacation. The two of us, in a château remote from everything. That was where it began. One night, the second night we had been there, I awoke sometime after midnight, to find that my wife was not beside me. I searched the entire place, found no trace of her. Dressing, I went out into the night. I searched the woods beyond the château, could not find her. At last, having no idea where she had gotten to, I returned to the château. We had no phone, so I resolved to wait until morning and then drive to the nearest village for the police. I sat in the living room, dozed finally. At dawn the front door creaked open, and there was Monique. Her hair was down, her night clothes torn. Torn and stained with blood, blood that was not her own.” Dargaud rubbed a hand across his eyes. “Forgive me, my friend. I find that some of the details of the past…still are very painful to talk about.”

“The serum was more than you bargained for,” suggested Adam. “It caused some changes in your wife.”

“Yes, it made her change,” answered Dargaud. “Change into some kind of beast, an animal who must hunt and kill. That was—to Chaos that was a joke, a joke on me and on Monique. And so we came here, I set up this lab. With a new goal, to find a cure for this new affliction of my wife’s. My work, despite pleading with the Servants of Chaos, has thus far been unsuccessful.”

“The other men,” said Adam, “the ones you say have died. What happened to them?”

“In order to understand this whole process,” said Dargaud, “I have set about trying to re-create that original serum that I used to save Monique’s life. In that I have met with some success. Or perhaps it is merely another joke that they are playing on me. At any rate, I have been able to create more beast-men, similar to Monique when she changes. None of the cures I have attempted, though, have been successful. A few of the men have died as a result. You must understand that I have had to lure most of these people here to our island, promising them jobs as servants. That is why your arrival is such a splendid accident.”

“A few of the men died as a result of your experiments,” said Adam. “What killed the rest?”

Dargaud looked away from him. “In a few hours, my friend,” he said, “you will find that out.”

Chapter 21

“Odd, isn’t it?” remarked Pendragon. “How often life imitates the cinema. I recall seeing, in my distant youth, a motion picture wherein a young chap is hunted like an animal across a jungle isle much like this one. The role of the youth was played by Joel McCrea if memory—”

“This Dargaud guy is really serious?” Tony had been removed from his table, and was now tied to a chair a short distance from Pendragon. “His wife’s going to hunt Adam?”

“Precisely,” said the magician.

It was a little past midnight. Dargaud had come and taken Adam out of the laboratory minutes before.

“I guess you and Adam are more used to this kind of stuff than I am,” said the injured pilot. “When Dargaud was explaining things to Adam a few hours back I was still sort of groggy. She’s sort of a werewolf, huh?”

“That seems a safe assumption, yes.”

“It’s pretty crazy to me,” said Tony. “Right now she’s out in that jungle someplace. She’s changed into a wolf or something and she’s going to go hunting for Adam.”

“A fox hunt, with the classic roles somewhat reversed,” said the magician.

“It still seems impossible, all of it,” said Tony. “Except it isn’t, because it’s happening.”

“Let us not despair too much. Adam is a very capable fellow, and he should be able to outwit our host’s unfortunate spouse.”

“What about this other girl? The one Adam and I came looking for in the first place?”

“Vampirella is out there in the jungle, too.”

“I get the idea, from what Adam’s said, that Vampirella is sort of mysterious herself.”

“My boy, all women are mysterious.”

“I used to think so, until I got married a few times,” Tony said. “Vampirella got away when Dargaud grabbed you. And you figure she’s out there in the boonies somewhere. Is she going to be able to do something to get us out of this mess?”

“Such is my ardent hope.”

“We’ve been here quite awhile.”

“Vampirella is no doubt, as the parlance of the street has it, casing the setup,” the magician said. “Before another day has dawned she’ll doubtless come to our aid.”

“We’ll see,” said Tony without much enthusiasm.

“Don’t despair, lad, we have other arrows in our quiver.”

“Like what?”

“While my fame is not as yet equal to that of the late Houdini,” said Pendragon, “I do have a certain uncanny ability when it comes to escape tricks. The bonds which our esteemed host trussed me up with may soon yield to my deft fingers.”

“You mean you think you can untie yourself?”

“If I can’t, I will be most disenchanted,” said the magician.

Adam listened. Crouched in the underbrush, he took in all the sounds of the midnight jungle. As yet he’d heard nothing to indicate he was being pursued by…

What was she?

From what Dargaud had said it seemed evident his wife was suffering with some form of lycanthropy, that she had become a werewolf.

How many of the attributes of a hunting animal did she possess? Would she be able, for instance, to track him by scent?

“We must assume she’s got every animal advantage on her side,” Adam told himself. “And on top of that she’s got human intelligence.”

Adam had been brought at gunpoint a half-mile into the jungle. He had no weapons, and nothing he could convert into a weapon.

Very quietly and carefully Adam reached up to break a dry branch from one of the surrounding trees. It would serve as a club, not much but something.

What’s she figure I’m going to do? Go deeper into the jungle and try to elude her all night? Maybe make for the ocean?

Suppose he didn’t do what they were expecting? Didn’t run, didn’t try to hide in the jungle?

Gripping the club, Adam began moving back toward the bungalow and the clearing. Dargaud would probably return to the lab, wouldn’t be anticipating Adam’s coming back. The other men who’d been made to play this game had all panicked, run and tried to get as far away from the Dargaud place as they could.

It’s still possible she’ll know I’m heading back, an animal would be aware of that.

Already through the trees Adam could see the lights of the laboratory and the bungalow.

If I can get the drop on Dargaud, take him by surprise…then the three of us should be able to take care of her.

As he worked his way slowly through the jungle Adam wondered about Vampirella. According to Pendragon she was here on the island.

But where?

And why hadn’t she shown herself?

There were few lights on in the bungalow. The house sat silent, but the laboratory was well lit. He could see Dargaud’s blond head pass in front of the windows.

Adam waited several minutes longer before leaving the last stand of trees. The night was overcast, the clearing thick with shadows.

One of the shadows began to move toward him.

Chapter 22

“Forgive me, gentlemen,” said Dargaud as he plunged the hypodermic needle into the nipple of the vial. “Had I any other choice I would not subject you to this.”

“You got a choice,” Tony told him. “You don’t have to do it.”

“But I must.” The syringe was full of bluish fluid. He squirted a drop into the air. “I realize that to you my problems are as nothing. But I have to free my wife from this thing that afflicts her. I will use any means possible.”

“You mean to convert us into werewolves?” inquired Pendragon.

“That is the first stage of the process.”

“Might I request you to inject me and not Tony? He’s still recuperating from the jolt he—”

“Both of you must be utilized,” said Dargaud. “However, I can certainly give you the first injection, Monsieur Pendragon.”

“An honor, sir.”

The needle cocked in his right hand, Dargaud approached the seated magician. “Allow me to roll up your sleeve for you,” he said, “since you are unable—”

Both of Pendragon’s hands suddenly appeared from behind his back. “On the contrary,” he said as he joined his hands together to make one big fist.

The upswung blow took Dargaud in the chin, made his teeth smash together. “Damn you—”

The magician did not hesitate. He hit Dargaud again, then kicked him in the groin. “Voilà!” Pendragon said, reaching for his chair.

The syringe smashed as it hit the floor. Dargaud, groggy now, made a scooping reach for it.

Smash!

Pendragon had brought the metal folding chair down over his head. “Forgive the violence, sir,” he said, “but I’m too old to change professions, and so I’d much rather remain a magician than become a werewolf.”

Dargaud sprawled out into unconsciousness.

“Where’d you learn to do that?” asked Tony.

“I learned how to get out of ropes many years ago in a carnival that toured Texas and Oklahoma just prior to their blowing away in the Depression,” replied Pendragon. He knelt beside Dargaud, frisked him. “The dirty-fighting part I picked up while working in a cozy little bistro in the Tenderloin of San Francisco during World War II. Aha, here we have a knife and a pistol.”

“That’s not going to be enough against a werewolf.”

Pendragon sliced the ropes that held the pilot. “No doubt we’ll find Monsieur Dargaud’s rifle and possibly even more lethal weapons in yonder spacious bungalow,” he said. “We’ll wrap him up with some of these ropes, using a few tricks I learned while acting as entertainment director in a Boy Scout camp in the outer reaches of the Catskills. Then we’ll—”

From outside came the roar of some large and angry animal.

It had begun in silence. Slowly the shadow took shape, easing across the clearing toward Adam. Walking upright, yet giving the impression it would be more at home on all fours. A human shape covered with matted fur, the head that of a predatory beast. Glaring eyes, sharp glistening teeth.

Had this only hours ago been a woman?

The creature continued to stalk him slowly as Adam backed away, half crouched, legs and arms wide.

The beast-woman bent lower, eyes narrowing. Her right hand touched the ground, clawing at it.

“I don’t like to hit a lady, but I guess I better make an exception.” He gripped the club in both hands, ready.

She gave a roaring cry and launched herself toward him.

The claws dug into his shoulders. Adam swung, the club, delivered a cracking blow to the beast-woman’s head.

Snarling, she tore the club from him. She raked his chest, threw him to the ground.

Up above them Adam glimpsed a large black bat plummeting down. The next instant it was the form of Vampirella.

The dark-haired girl hit the beast-woman full in the back with both knees.

Adam rolled aside as the two females thudded to the ground.

Monique snarled, growled and tried to sink her teeth into the tormenting Vampirella. But Vampirella clung to her back, pressing her into the dirt.

Roaring, Monique hunched upward with such force that she sent Vampirella sprawling. She twisted and dove for the girl.

Vampirella’s feet met the rush. Her legs bent and then straightened to thrust Monique away from her.

Adam made a grab for the beast-woman.

Growling, she shoved him aside. He fell to one knee. Before he could get up, Monique had caught hold of him. She sent him spinning toward Vampirella.

Dodging a second too late, Vampirella was bowled over.

Monique spun, ran for the jungle and away from the clearing.

“Stay here,” Vampirella told Adam as she rose.

“No, I’m not going—”

“Stay here!” She took off after the beast-woman.

“Allow me to help you up, my boy.”

“Pendragon!” exclaimed Adam.

Making a slight bow, the magician said, “I popped out of the lab to see what all the noise was out here. Quite a raucous neighborhood this.”

“Where’s Tony?”

“Inside. I managed, with my usual dexterity and aplomb, to get the best of our host. He is now within, trussed like a Christmas turkey. Tony is as well as can be expected.” He passed the confiscated pistol to Adam. “You may need this.”

“Meet you back here.” Adam tucked the pistol into his waistband and jogged off in the direction that Vampirella and the beast-woman had gone.

Chapter 23

The trail led toward the sea. That was the way Monique was heading. Vampirella, a few yards behind, followed.

The beast-woman left the trail and cut through the brush and vines.

She emerged on a mossy hilltop, which ended abruptly in a straight drop to the water three hundred feet below. At the very edge Monique waited, turning to face Vampirella.

An entire day had passed. Vampirella had been able to control her need for blood while she had watched the clearing and the Dargaud buildings to determine what had happened to Adam and Pendragon. Bloodthirst filled her now as she moved out of the tangle of jungle.

Monique made a purring, rumbling sound. Then, with a sputtering snarl, she launched herself at Vampirella.

In the distance Adam heard a cry and then, seconds later, a huge splash. He kept on the trail and in less than ten minutes was at the beach. The wide ribbon of sand looked gray, as did the foam of the surf.

A figure stood alone in the black water swirling around her thighs.

“Vampirella,” he called.

The dark-haired girl bent, thrusting her hands into the sea and then wiping a wet hand again and again across her face, rubbing at her lips.

Adam crossed the silent beach to the edge of the water. “Vampirella!”

“I told you to stay back there.”

“Didn’t take your advice.”

“She’s dead.” One slender hand pointed.

Adam saw Monique then, far down the night beach to his left. She lay on her back with the sea foam spilling in and out over her bare legs. In death, she had become herself, the lovely woman Dargaud had fallen in love with. The woman whose life he’d made a bargain for with Chaos and his Seven Servants.

Adam went no closer to the body. “You saved my life,” he said to Vampirella.

She watched him, hands on hips. “It served my own purposes, my own needs.”

“I don’t think that was your only reason.”

Vampirella came walking back to the beach. “Don’t you see her there?” Again she pointed at the dead Monique. “I did that. I killed her and drank her—”

“She would have died four years ago if her husband hadn’t made a deal with one of the demons who serves Chaos.”

“So that’s the way it was,” she said slowly. “Even so, that makes me no better than I am.”

Adam took hold of her smooth, bare shoulders. “She had to be killed, Vampirella,” he said. “There was no way to cure her, no other way to stop her.”

Vampirella shrugged herself free of his hands. “You’ll be saying that same thing about me someday,” she told him. “Standing over my dead body, you and your father, and saying, ‘What a pity, but there was no other—’”

He took hold of her again, with more force than before. This time he kissed her. Her lips were salty and sweet, tasting of the sea and of blood. “You’re not going to die,” he said. “Not soon, not because of me or because of my father.”

For a few quiet seconds she stayed close to him, then she pulled away. “Isn’t that why you’re here?” Vampirella asked. “Didn’t your father send you to track me down? You probably packed a special little satchel with a stake and a mallet in it.”

“I told you,” said Adam, “my father and I don’t agree about you. I’m here on this goddamn island because I talked my friend Tony DelGado into coming to hunt for you. When I heard the Triton had gone down I—”

“Thought your pet vampire had gotten away from you?”

Adam took a step back, his eyes narrowing. “You’re an exceptional girl, Vampirella,” he said. “But I have a rule that applies to you just as it applies to others. I’m not going to argue with you when you’re in this sort of mood. You or any woman.”

Her breasts rose and fell, her nostrils flared. No one had ever spoken to her this way. Finally Vampirella replied, “Okay, we won’t fence anymore. Is Pendragon all right?”

“When I left him he’d shaken off his ropes and overpowered Dargaud,” said Adam. “Dargaud is our host on this little island paradise. That was his wife.”

Vampirella took a final look at the body. “She’ll have to be buried soon,” she said. “We can’t leave her here for very long.”

“Pendragon and I can come back and carry her to the bungalow,” said Adam. “Unless you want to help me carry her now.”

“I’d prefer not to.” She began walking down the trail. “How’d you know I was aboard the Triton?”

He caught up with her. The trail was wide enough to allow him to walk at her side. “Pendragon informed me before you two left Los Angeles,” he said. “The whole booking was a fake, you know.”

“Yes, Jack Trenton arranged the whole thing.”

“Shipowner? Was he on that cruise, too?”

“Yes, he was. And he was also a Servant of Chaos,” she said. “His bargain was somewhat different from Dargaud’s.”

“He was lost with the ship?”

“Yes. They gave him his life back for a while, then took it away again.” They walked in silence for awhile.

“I don’t know what Trenton’s motives were,” said Adam, “but Dargaud got into all this originally because he really loved that girl.”

Vampirella shrugged one shoulder. “Love,” she said. “That’s no excuse for anything.”

Adam watched her profile. “I could disagree,” he said, “but I’ve already told you I wasn’t going to argue with you anymore tonight.”

Chapter 24

Old Van Helsing sat stiffly in the canvas chair, the red glow of sunset reflected in the circles of black glass that hid his blind eyes. There was a strong, salty breeze blowing in across the Pacific today. A dozen white gulls dived and swooped over the fading blue water.

The old man didn’t see that, but inside his head he saw another ocean. An ocean thousands of miles from here, dotted with bright green islands. One island grew larger. It’s name…yes, that was it. San Norberto. A plane was setting down at a landing field. On the plane was his son and…Vampirella.

“Adam, you fool!” The old man’s fists hit at the air.

Though the blind man had never actually seen her, he knew exactly what Vampirella looked like.

His extrasensory gifts provided him with a clear image of the dark-haired girl.

“Why can’t Adam realize what she is?” Van Helsing asked aloud. “Why can’t he see her as I do? She’s evil, she must be destroyed.”

The vision he was seeing on the other side of his eyes faded. But now he knew where to find Vampirella. He stood, went into the house to the telephone. He made several calls and arranged to arrive on the Caribbean island of San Norberto within hours of the time Adam and Vampirella would.

“She won’t take him from me,” he promised himself. From a bedroom closet the old man drew the small black bag. He opened it, felt inside with his gaunt fingers. Yes, the stake was there, and the hammer. “Before many more days have passed I shall drive this stake into her heart!”

Dargaud did all the digging. He wouldn’t let them help. On the hill above the sea he dug the grave for his wife. Alone, waving Adam and Pendragon back, Dargaud carried her body up from the ocean’s edge and lowered it into the dark, earthy hole.

He stood looking down into the grave, not moving, for a long while. Silent, brooding, face a blank.

“It’s finally over,” he said, kicking a scatter of dirt into the open grave.

Taking up the shovel once more, Dargaud began slowly to fill the grave and cover his dead wife’s body. The sun was bright in the midday sky. He perspired as he worked.

When all the earth was back in place, he turned to Adam. “Stones,” he said. “Heavy stones to place over her.”

There were a good many rocks and stones along the trail to the beach. Adam and Pendragon aided Dargaud in gathering them and placing them atop the grave.

“Safe at last,” said Dargaud when the job was finished. “She’s safe at last.” He wiped the droplets from his forehead and the back of his neck.

“What about you?” asked Adam.

Dargaud smiled, shrugging. “Monique’s death has freed her, but not me. There is still my bargain—and they will collect. There’s no way around that.” He turned his back on the grave.

“What you did here on this island,” Adam told him, “it’s murder, you know. But I don’t see how we can bring it into a court. It’s been my experience that judges and the police usually don’t believe in the supernatural.”

“No court could do to me what Chaos will do,” said Dargaud. “There is no need, my friend, to fear that I will escape punishment.”

“Where does that leave us?” inquired Pendragon as the three men began to walk along the trail back to the clearing. “We can’t turn you over to the authorities.”

“I will stay here,” answered Dargaud. “By myself. There’s no other place I want to go. I will stay here and wait.”

When they were nearly at the bungalow Dargaud said, “There’s one other thing I would like to tell you.” He stopped, stripes of afternoon shadow cutting across his face and body.

“All right.”

“I…I gave up long ago trying to find a cure for Monique,” said Dargaud. “These last experiments…with Baptiste…and what I intended to do to you and your friend…they had another purpose.” He wiped at his forehead again, ran his tongue over his lips and rubbed his moustache with his knuckles. “I was…I was trying to create a beast-man…a creature even more powerful than Monique. And when they met out there in the jungle by night…I wanted that creature to kill her.”

Adam nodded, not saying anything.

“No matter how much you love someone,” said Dargaud after a moment, “there is only so much…so much you can watch her suffer. Then…then you begin to think, to plot…how to kill her, to stop it all. That was what I was working for these past months…but Monique never knew that. I should have let her die the first time…in Paris.”

Chapter 25

Adam and Tony were sitting on the verandah of the bungalow, relaxing in the bright afternoon.

“Nice radio setup he has here,” said Tony. “I got through to the nearest island with no trouble at all.”

“They’ll have a plane from San Norberto here in the morning?”

“After breakfast, so they said. They promised, once I assured them I was speaking for the affluent Mr. Van Helsing who would pay well for their trouble,” said Tony.

Adam was frowning, his mind apparently on something else. “Oh…yeah, good.”

“You don’t look overjoyed, old buddy. I mean, we found the girl and the magician, we’re going to get picked up. That’s a happy ending, isn’t it?”

“A happy ending to this segment of my life, maybe,” said Adam. He rose, hands in pockets, and began pacing the screened porch. “When we get back to so-called civilization I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

“Vampirella obviously likes you.”

“I’m not sure of that at all.”

“Look, Adam, you got me beat when it comes to the supernatural stuff, but I know women. After a few wives, you get to be an expert,” Tony said. “No woman is going to be as nasty to you as Vampirella has since you got here unless she’s fond of you. That’s what they call a sexist remark, but nonetheless true.”

Adam went down the steps. “Going to see how they’re coming back there in the lab.”

“I thought that might be what you were curious about,” said his friend.

Dargaud unbuttoned his crisp white jacket. “That should do it,” he said.

Vampirella reached a hand toward the large beaker glass, hesitant.

“It’s finished,” Dargaud assured her. “A very clever man this Dr. Westron must have been. The formula is relatively simple, but not at all obvious.”

“Then once again we have a supply of the blood-substitute serum?” asked Pendragon, who’d been assisting.

“Oh, yes,” answered Dargaud. “Consider it a farewell gift from me. Here, Vampirella, we’ll pour the serum into these ampules over here. Each will hold a dose.”

From the doorway Adam said, “You were successful?”

“Yes, my friend,” Dargaud said, without looking up from his work.

Vampirella picked up one of the ampules after he’d sealed it. “Thank you,” she said. “Adam, I’d like to talk to you.” Not waiting for an answer, the long-legged girl strode by him and out of the laboratory.

Pendragon caught the silk handkerchief out of the air, closed his hand over it. He opened his palm toward Tony, saying, “Gone, vanished…or is it?” He reached over, picked his glass off the table at his side. “Aha, we find it, the self-same rag, reposing where a few fingers of Scotch ought to be. Let us remedy that.” He passed his hand between his distracted audience and the glass. The handkerchief was gone again. Taking up the bottle he’d found in Dargaud’s liquor cabinet, Pendragon filled the glass. “You may applaud, my boy, or hoot and stomp your feet. Several monarchs and princes of the realm have cheered and whistled over similar stunts.”

“Adam and Vampirella have been gone a long time.”

Dusk was spreading across the clearing beyond the verandah.

“Dargaud is still tinkering in his laboratory,” said the magician, after a gulp of Scotch. “All the roving creatures have been felled and the demons are at bay for the nonce. I’m sure no harm will befall Adam and Vampirella.”

“I suppose, but still…”

“How many gold coins do you see before you?” Pendragon opened his palm.

Tony was sitting far to the right, trying to see into the twilight jungle. “I don’t know,” he said.

“The correct answer is six,” said Pendragon, undaunted. “We pronounce a few sacred words over them…Viravolta, vitrina, vivaz! Lo and behold, we now have double the amount. An even dozen.”

Tony pointed at the trees. “There they are.”

“On the contrary, they are right here in the palm of me hand, lad.”

“I mean Adam and Vampirella,” said Tony, getting up and waving to them.

As he dropped the coins into an inner pocket, Pendragon looked at the approaching Vampirella and Adam. They were walking with no great haste, holding hands. “Ah,” observed the magician. “Romance can certainly blossom in some very strange places.”

Chapter 26

From the vast terrace of San Norberto’s newest hotel you could see the harbor. Pendragon capped the fountain pen, caused it to disappear, sat back, and watched the lights coming on all around the bay. “You’ve made a wise move today, Señor Vargas.”

Vargas was a stout man, wearing a white suit just a size too small for him. “I have unfailing instincts when it comes to show business, which is why I’m in the business I’m in.” He folded up the contracts they’d just signed, handed one copy to the magician. “The sample of your act which you and Vampirella put on this afternoon convinced me. You’ll do well at our hotels in the Caribbean.” He tucked his copy into the breast pocket of his white suit and took a cigar from another. “May I offer you a smoke?”

“My only remaining vice,” said Pendragon, encircling his glass of Scotch with his hand, “is not smoking, thank you.”

“I’ll have one of my PR people contact you first thing tomorrow,” said Vargas. “The things that have happened to you—your miraculous escape from the wreck of the Triton, your ordeal at sea, your rescue after being marooned on a wild uninhabited island—it’s all good copy. We won’t have any trouble getting pictures of Vampirella in the papers.” He paused to light his cigar. “I’m truly sorry she was unable to join us for cocktails. Perhaps she is free for dinner this evening?”

“Alas, Señor Vargas, after her ordeal at sea Vampirella’s physician has ordered her to retire early.” Pendragon gave him a sympathetic smile. “I will, to be sure, convey to Vampirella your interest in her (you lecherous old goat) and perhaps at some future date—well, quien sabe, eh?”

Vargas blew smoke in the direction of the darkening ocean. “I am a patient man,” he said.

Pendragon finished off his Scotch, pushed back from the outdoor table. Bowing, he said, “I am in your debt, sir. I assure you that the appearance of the Great Pendragon in your renowned hotels will prove profitable for all concerned. Now, I must bid you a reluctant good afternoon.”

The magician rode up to their floor in the glass-walled elevator that climbed the outside of the twenty-four-story hotel.

Long shadows filled the corridor leading to their part of the floor. Pendragon walked past the door of Vampirella’s room to his own, reached out his key. “What ho!” he said, realizing what he’d noticed.

He backtracked. The door of the room was standing a few inches open. “Vampirella,” he said into the opening, “is all well, my child?”

No answer.

The magician pushed the door open. No lights on in the room. “The elevator’s working, so there can’t have been a power failure. Are you—”

He tripped. Tripped over the body spread-eagled on the rug a few feet from the door.

The door slammed behind him. The lights bloomed on.

“He’s not dead,” Vampirella’s voice informed him.

Pendragon dropped down beside the figure. He took up the pair of dark glasses that lay next to the old man. Twirling them slowly by the frame, he stood and looked around at Vampirella.

She was wearing a coat, thrown hastily over the scarlet costume she’d worn when they tried out their act for Vargas in one of the hotel’s empty ballrooms. Next to her, very near the door, was a suitcase. “I’m leaving now,” she said. “Will you call Adam and—”

“Wait now, dear girl,” said Pendragon. He noticed the wooden stake that had fallen a few inches from Van Helsing’s limp hand. “What’s been going on here?”

“Adam’s father caught up with me again,” she said. “He got a key to the room somehow and burst in here a few minutes ago.”

“I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Vampirella said. “He has only one object in mind, to kill me.”

“Not too successful, by the looks of him,” observed the magician.

“I know how to defend myself,” she said. “And he’s an old man. I didn’t want to hurt him, since he’s Adam’s father—but I’m not ready to die just yet.” She took up the suitcase. “I think I’d better go away, off by myself. There’s no need to involve you in all this.”

Van Helsing moaned, his head rolling slightly from side to side.

“Nonsense, my dear,” insisted Pendragon. “We’ve just signed up with Señor Vargas to appear in the floor shows at a half dozen of the best hotels in the Caribbean. There’s no need to—”

“I’m sorry, Pendragon,” Vampirella said. “I want to be off by myself for awhile.”

“The first engagement is on Côte de Soleil in one week,” the magician said. “Rejoin me there, child.”

She shrugged. “Perhaps,” she said.

Before Pendragon could say anything further Vampirella walked out of the room and away.

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26