Carpe Jugulum (28 page)

Vampires are not naturally cooperative creatures. It’s not in their nature. Every other vampire is a rival for the next meal. In fact, the ideal situation for a vampire is a world in which every other vampire has been killed off and no one seriously believes in vampires anymore. They are by nature as cooperative as sharks.

Vampyres are just the same, the only real difference being that they can’t spell properly.

The remnant of the clan scurried through the keep and headed for a door that for some reason had been left ajar.

The bucket containing a cocktail of waters blessed by a Knight of Offler, a High Priest of Io and a man so generically holy that he hadn’t cut his hair or washed for seventy years, landed on the first two to run through.

They did not include the Count and his family, who had moved as one into a side tower. There’s no point in having underlings if you don’t let them be the first to go through suspicious doors.

“How could you have been so—” Lacrimosa began, and to her shock got a slap across the face from her father.

“All we need to do is remain calm,” said the Count. “There’s no need to panic.”

“You
struck
me!”

“And most satisfying it was, too,” said the Count. “Careful thought is what will save us. That is why we will survive.”

“It’s not
working
!” said Lacrimosa. “I’m a vampire! I’m supposed to crave blood! And all I can think about is a cup of tea with three sugars in it, whatever the hell that is! That old woman’s doing something to us, can’t you see?”

“Not possible,” said the Count. “Oh, she’s sharp for a human, but I don’t reckon there’s any way she could get into your head or mine—”

“You’re even talkin’ like her!” shouted Lacrimosa.

“Be resolute, my dear,” said the Count. “Remember—that which does not kill us can only make us stronger.”

“And that which
does
kill us leaves us
dead
!” snarled Lacri-mosa. “You saw what happened to the others!
You
got your fingers burned!”

“A moment’s lapse of concentration,” said the Count. “That old witch is
not
a threat. She’s a vampire.
Subservient
to us. She’ll be seeing the world differently—”

“Are you mad? Something killed Cryptopher.”

“He let himself be frightened.”

The rest of the family looked at the Count. Vlad and Lacrimosa exchanged a glance.

“I am supremely confident,” said the Count. His smile looked like a death mask, waxen and disturbingly tranquil. “My mind is like a rock. My nerve is firm. A vampire with his wits about him, or her, of course, can never be defeated. Didn’t I teach you this? What’s
this
one?”

His hand flew from his pocket, holding a square of white cardboard.

“Oh, Father this is really no time for—” Lacrimosa froze, then jerked her arm in front of her face. “Put it away! Put it away! It’s the Agatean Chlong of Destiny!”

“Exactly, which is merely three straight lines and two curved lines pleasantly arranged which—”

“—I’d never have known about if you hadn’t told me, you old fool!” screamed the girl, backing away.

The Count turned to his son.

“And do
you
—” he began. Vlad sprang back, putting his hand over his eyes.

“It
hurts
!” he shouted.

“Dear me, the two of you haven’t been practicing—” the Count began, and turned the card around so that he could look at it.

He screwed up his eyes and turned his face away.

“What have you
done
to us?!” Lacrimosa screamed. “You’ve taught us how to see hundreds of the damned holy things! They’re everywhere! Every religion has a different one!
You
taught us that, you stupid bastard! Lines and crosses and circles…oh my…” She caught sight of the stone wall behind her astonished brother, and shuddered. “Everywhere I
look
I see something holy! You’ve taught us to see
patterns
!” She snarled at her father, teeth exposed.

“It’ll be dawn soon,” said the Countess nervously. “Will it hurt?”

“It won’t! Of course it won’t!” shouted Count Magpyr, as the others glanced up at the pale light coming through a high window. “It’s a learned psychochromatic reaction! A superstition! It’s all in the mind!”

“What
else
is in our minds, Father?” said Vlad coldly.

The Count was circling, trying to keep an eye on Lacrimosa. The girl was flexing her fingers and snarling.

“I said—”

“Nothing’s in our minds that we didn’t put there!” the Count roared. “I saw that old witch’s mind! It’s
weak
. She relies on trickery! She couldn’t possibly find a way in! I wonder if there are
other
agendas here?”

He bared his teeth at Lacrimosa.

The Countess fanned herself desperately. “Well, I think we’re all getting a
little
bit overexcited,” she said. “I think we should all settle down and have a nice cup of…a nice…of tea…a cup of…”

“We’re
vampires
!” Lacrimosa shouted.

“Then let’s act like them!” screamed the Count.

Agnes opened her eyes, kicked up, and the man with the hammer and stake lost all interest in vampires and in consciousness as well.

“Whsz—” Agnes removed from her mouth what was, this time, a fig. “Can you get it into your stupid heads that I’m not a vampire? And this isn’t a lemon. It’s a fig. And I’d watch that bloke with the stake. He’s altogether too keen on it, I reckon there’s some psychology there—”

“I wouldn’t have let him use it,” said Piotr, close by her ear. “But you did act very odd and then you just collapsed. So we thought we’d better see what woke up.”

He stood up. The citizens of Escrow stood watching among the trees, their faces gaunt in the flickering torchlight.

“It’s all right, she’s still not one,” he said. There was some general relaxation.

You really have changed,
said Perdita.

“You’re not affected?” said Agnes. She felt as if she was on the end of a string with someone jerking the other end.

No. I’m the bit of you that watches, remember?

“What?” said Piotr.

“I really, really hope this wears off,” said Agnes. “I keep tripping over my own feet! I’m walking wrong! My whole body feels wrong!”

“Er…can we go on to the castle?” said Piotr.

“
She’s
already there,” said Agnes. “I don’t know how, but—”

She stopped, and looked at the worried faces, and for a moment she found herself thinking in the way Granny Weatherwax thought.

“Yes,” she said, more slowly. “I reckon…I mean, I think we ought to get there right away. People have to kill their own vampires.”

Nanny hurried down the steps again.

“I
told
you!” she said. “That’s Esme Weatherwax down there, that is. I told you! I
knew
she was just biding her time! Hah, I’d like to see the bloodsucker who could put one over on her!”

“I wouldn’t,” said Igor, fervently.

Nanny stepped over a vampire who hadn’t noticed, in the shadows, a cunning combination of a tripwire, a heavy weight and a stake, and opened a door into the courtyard.

“Coo-ee, Esme!”

Granny Weatherwax pushed Oats away and stepped forward.

“Is the baby all right?” she said.

“Magrat and Es…
young
Esme are locked up in the crypt. It’s a very strong door,” said Nanny.

“And Thcrapth ith guarding them,” said Igor. “He’th a wonderful guard dog.”

Granny raised her eyebrows and looked Igor up and down.

“I don’t think I know this…
these
gentlemen,” she said.

“Oh, this is Igor,” said Nanny. “A man of many parts.”

“So it seems,” said Granny.

Nanny glared at Mightily Oats. “What did you bring him for?” she said.

“Couldn’t seem to shake him off,” said Granny.

“I always try hiding behind the sofa, myself,” said Nanny. Oats looked away.

There was a scream from somewhere on the battlements. The phoenix had spotted another vampire.

“All over now bar sweeping up the dust, then,” said Nanny. “They didn’t seem very smart—”

“The Count’s still here,” said Granny flatly.

“Oh, I vote we just set fire to the place and go home,” said Nanny. “It’s not as though he’ll be coming back to Lancre in a hurry—”

“There’th a crowd coming,” said Igor.

“I can’t hear anything,” said Nanny.

“I’ve got very good ear’th,” said Igor.

“Ah, well, of course some of us don’t get to choose,” said Nanny.

There was a clattering of footsteps across the bridge and people were suddenly swarming over the rubble.

“Isn’t that Agnes?” said Nanny. Normally, there’d be no mistaking the figure advancing across the courtyard, but there was something about the walk, the way every foot thudded down as though the boots were not on speaking terms with the earth. And the arms, too, swung in a way—

“I can’t be having with this!” Agnes shouted, marching up to Granny. “I can’t think straight. It’s you, isn’t it?”

Granny reached out and touched the wounds on her neck.

“Ah, I see,” she said. “One them bit you, yes?”

“Yes! And somehow
you
spoke to me!”

“Not me. That was something in your blood talkin’, I reckon,” said Granny. “Who’re all these people? Why’s that man trying to set fire to the wall?

Don’t he know stone don’t burn?”

“Oh, that’s Claude, he’s a bit single-minded. Just let me know if he picks up a stake, will you? Look, they’re from Escrow, it’s a town not far away…the Magpyrs treated them like…well…
pets.
Farm animals! Just like they were trying to do back home!”

“We ain’t leaving until we’ve dealt with the Count,” said Granny. “Otherwise he’ll be sneaking back—”

“Er, excuse me,” said Oats, who seemed to have been thinking about something. “Excuse me, but did someone mention that the Queen was locked up in the crypt?”

“Safe as houses,” said Nanny. “Huge thick door and you can bar it from the inside.”

“How safe are houses from vampires?” said Oats.

Granny’s head turned sharply. “What do you mean?”

Oats took a step backward.

“Ah, I know what he means,” said Nanny. “It’s all right, we’re not daft, she won’t open up until she’s knows it’s us—”

“I meant, how does the door stop vampires?”

“Stop them? It’s a
door
.”

“So…they can’t turn themselves into some sort of mist, then?” said Oats, frying in the joint radiation of their stares. “Only I thought that vampires could, you see. I thought everyone knew that who knows anything about vampires…”

Granny turned on Igor. “D’you know anything about this?”

Igor’s mouth opened and shut a few times.

“The old Count never did anything like
that
,” he said.

“Yes,” said Nanny, “But
he
played
fair
.”

There was a rising howl from the depths of the castle, cut off suddenly.

“That was Thcrapth!” said Igor, breaking into a run.

“Thcraapthhh?” said Agnes, wrinkling her brow. Nanny grabbed her arm and dragged her after Igor.

Granny swayed a little. Her eyes had an unfocused look.

Oats glanced at her, made up his mind, staggered rather theatrically and sprawled in the dust.

Granny blinked, shook her head and glared down at him.

“Hah! All too much for you, eh?” she said hoarsely.

Trembling fingers reached down for Oats. He took them, taking care not to pull, and stood up.

“If you could just give me a hand,” he said, as her grateful weight hit his shoulder.

“Right,” said Granny. “Now let’s find the kitchens.”

“Huh? What do we want with the kitchens?”

“After a night like this we could all do with a cup of tea,” said Granny.

Magrat leaned against the door as a second thump rattled the bolts. Beside her, Scraps started to growl. Perhaps it was something to do with his extensive surgery, but Scraps growled in half a dozen different pitches all at once.

Then there was silence, which was even more terrifying than the thumping.

A faint noise made her look down. A green smoke was pouring through the keyhole.

It was thick, and had an oily quality…

She darted across the room and snatched up a jar that had contained lemons so sportingly provided by the mysterious old Count that Igor thought so highly of. She wrenched off the lid and held it under the keyhole. When the smoke had filled it up she dropped a few cloves of garlic in and slammed the lid back on.

The jar rocked urgently on the floor.

Then Magrat glanced at the lid of the well. When she lifted it up, she heard rushing water a long way below. Well, that was likely, wasn’t it? There must be lots of underground rivers in the mountains.

She held the jar over the center of the hole, and let it go. Then she slammed the lid back down.

Young Esme gurgled in the corner. Magrat hurried over to her and shook a rattle.

“Look at the pretty bunny rabbit,” she said, and darted back again.

There was whispering on the other side of the door. Then Nanny Ogg’s voice said, “It’s all right, dear, we’ve got them. You can open the door now. Lawks.”

Magrat rolled her eyes.

“Is that really you, Nanny?”

“That’s right, dear.”

“Thank goodness. Just tell me the joke about the old woman, the priest and the rhinoceros, then, and I’ll let you in.”

There was a pause, and some more whispering.

“I don’t think we’ve got time for that, dear,” said the voice.

“Ha ha, nice try,” said Magrat. “I’ve dropped one of you in the river! Who was it?”

After some silence the voice of the Count said: “We
thought
the Countess could persuade you to listen to reason.”

“Not in a jar she can’t,” said Magrat. “And I’ve got more jars if you want to try it again!”

“We had hoped that you would be sensible about this,” said the Count. “However…”

The door slammed back, pulling the bolts out of the wall.

Magrat grabbed the baby and stepped backward, her other hands raised.

“You come near me and I’ll stab you with this!” she shouted.

“It’s a teddy bear,” said the Count. “I’m afraid it wouldn’t work, even if you sharpened it.”