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happened to him before and he could handle them. He returned the smile. "I think," he said, "that I spoke
to you on the telephone once, Miss."
"It's Mrs. Harker, actually." Her voice was soft and charming, slightly British. "But please call me Mina.
Vlad has told me a good deal about you, and I really feel we are already friends. And since we are
sharing a ride tonight I wanted to say hello. And to reassure you, perhaps, on one or two points in
connection with these recent events, that have been so distressing."
A stewardess, passing in the aisle, looked vaguely unsettled by the sight of an unremembered passenger.
But the stewardess naturally had plenty of other things to worry about already there was no problem,
really, with a pleasant-looking, undemanding young woman who simply sat chatting with a man. No need
to concern oneself; and Joe's understanding grew of how the whole vampire business could remain a
secret even while it went on and on and on.
"Well," said Joe, "I'm glad you say `reassure.' The one kid, Pat O'Grandison, is still missing, and the
painting also. And Mr. Thorn, of course. Otherwise there are just bodies all over hell, in mansions, in
Jeeps, in garages and old adobe ruins."
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"Yes," Mina agreed with asigh. "It has been a terrible business. Just terrible." She looked at her nails, as
any young lady might. They were neatly manicured, Joe noted, and not very long. Certainly nothing at all
talonish, not at the moment anyway. She added: "And I don't think they are going to have any success in
looking for the painting."
"Oh no?"
"It is my feeling that the real owner might by now have put it away safely somewhere."
"Oh." Joe turned his head to glance once more at Judy, who had not moved. "According to Judy, he
was rather crazy, there at the end. She says it was very lucky that you showed up when you did. I was
wondering . . ."
Mina smiled again. "Vlad's going to talk to you himself," she said. "Say hello to Kate for me. If you think
it wise." She leaned back, and was gone. But the seat remained empty only for a moment.
Joe flinched, just slightly. He couldn't help himself.
If Thorn noticed that infinitesimal recoil, he gave no indication. He smiled lightly at Joe and patted him on
the arm. "Thank you, Joe, for your support."
Joe tried to make his arm relax on the seat divider. "You're welcome. Er . . . ah . . . Mina told me there's
no use our looking for that painting any longer?"
"Your sense of justice, Joe, may be soothed to know that for the first time in centuries, it is now in the
hands of its true owner."
Joe didn't have to ask who that might be. He wondered suddenly if the painting, disguised somehow,
could be cargo on this very plane. He wasn't about to try to find out.
"There is one more point, Joseph, on which I wished to speak to you. I mean the young man, Pat
O'Grandison, who has disappeared."
"Oh. You're not through hunting yet."
"I detect a certain disapproval." Then in a sort of parenthetical action Thorn leaned forward in his seat
and slowly reached past Joe toward Judy. With one finger he very gently touched the burn on her cheek,
and her puffy lip. She was sleeping deeply, and did not stir. Thorn sat back. "Actually this particular hunt
is one that I should think you might want me to conduct. The youth has not wronged me; I am not
seeking revenge."
"Sorry. What, then?"
"He is . . . a runaway. In years, not a child any longer. But not a responsible adult. In fact he is
intermittently mad."
"As I understand it, he's been like that most of his life. So are a hundred thousand others running around
loose. So what's "
"Joseph, you do not understand. Remember how the body of the man Gliddon was found."
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Joe had heard about that. The state police had said it looked like Gliddon had been half eaten by some
animal. "Oh. I thought that was . . . not that I would have blamed you, after . . ."
"Oh, I would have killed him, certainly. But his blood would have been carrion to me. Not to that boy
though. That boy isnosferatu, now; or rather in a grotesque halfway state that may persist indefinitely.
And he is out there somewhere, hitchhiking. If I were greatly concerned for the welfare of the breathing
populace of this great nation, I would be anxious that he be found; I would concern myself about him. Of
course, as you say, there are thousands of others "
"What?"
"Oh, not insane vampires, not all of them, but just as dangerous sometimes. To themselves, if not . . ."
Thorn's voice trailed off.
Joe stared into the pale face, and could see torture there.
"Asshe was," Thorn went on at last, whispering. "For centuries, it would appear. Since the day, perhaps,
when she saw me fall to traitors' swords and thought that I was dead. Wandering the earth. Seeking to
have a home again, and human contact. . . in, as I say, some kind of halfway state.Able to eat the foodof
breathing humans, to face the sun without distress, to find akind of sleep anywhere on earth.But able to
find real rest nowhere at all. They are mad, and they are outcastsfrom both worlds, and I do not know
how many of them there are who wander the earth tonight. Too much happens to them in their breathing
lives, and madness supervenes. Too much happened to me, but I was very strong. Yes, very strong."
Impulsively Joe put a hand on the arm of the man, the human being, who rode in the seat beside him.
Thorn looked at him. "It was she, though." He paused. "I am almost sure." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]