The Vampires Student Part IV:
"Trials of Death"
Chapter 1: "Whiskey"
It was a strange feeling to come back.
Gillian was standing in front of the large city house, and hesitated to go up the stairs to the entrance.
There was a small light on behind the windows of the ground floor, so he was at home.
What will he say when she appears so unexpectedly at his doorstep? After she had ran away without an explanation, gone without any message for months?
Gillian took up all her courage and climbed the stairs to the front door.
She rang the bell, and got sweaty palms when she heard shuffling footsteps in the hallway.
The door was opened and the light fell on the steps outside, cut a square into the night, where Gillian stood and smiled at the old man, who looked surprised at his late visitor.
"My God, Gillian," said the old man and put his hand to his heart.
"Good evening, Professor," Gillian muttered a little embarrassed.
"Jeez. Do you know what time it is ... ?" The old man ran his fingers through his tousled white hair and adjusted his old brown velvet bathrobe that he wore over plaid pajamas. He had probably been fallen asleep in his chair again.
"I'm sorry," said Gillian. "I just did not know where to go."
The professor shook his head, and without another word he shuffled through the hallway into the kitchen. The front door he left open.
Gillian entered the house, and pushed the door gently close behind her.
In the hall she put down her backpack and took off her coat. When she hung it in the wardrobe, she was satisfied to see that apart from the jacket of the professor, no further coats were hanging there. So there was no other guest except her.
She closed her eyes and breathed in. The house smelled familiar. Gillian had long lived here.
She heard the professor made himself busy in the kitchen and followed him into the large modern room, where he just prepared two glasses from the cupboard and took out a bottle of whiskey from the well-stocked minibar.
"Not for me, you know that."
The old mans gray eyes looked at the young woman's. "And as always, I ask you to sham drinking, so this old man does not have the feeling of drinking alone."
Gillian smiled, and the professor took up the whiskey bottle. He had problems to open the closure, so Gillian went to the dresser. "Let me do it."
She took the bottle from his hand and poured some of the golden liquid in two glasses.
Then she handed him the glass.
The professor saw Gillian's melancholy expression, as he took the glass from her, but he did not say something. He knew this expression on her. She thought of something - or someone-from her past. Someone to whom she had often poured out, too.
He raised his glass to her, but he had to cough before he could take a sip.
Gillian had also raised her glass, but watched him now with worries, as he turned away, putting down the glass coughing hardly. He shuffled over to the living room, and Gillian followed him, with two glasses in her hand.
In the living room only a small shaded lamp burned beside the sofa on which the professor lay down now, next to the fireplace.
"Your coughing has gotten worse," she said, when he had stopped making a rattling noise while breathing.
"Oh, come on, that's nothing!" He waved off testily, and held out his hand impatiently.
Gillian pressed the whiskey in his hand, and he immediately took a sip.
He sighed and leaned back into the sofa.
He pulled a blanket over his legs, and Gillian helped him.
Then she sat down opposite him in a chair.
He looked at his long-lost student. Even though his eyes were no longer the best, he saw that she had worries.
He sighed. "I suppose it's no use asking why you had disappeared in the night and fog, and where you have been all the time."
Gillian shook her head.
"And still I suppose that you will not tell me the truth if I ask you, what you have done during the recent months."
His student winced. "I'm sorry, Professor, I can`t."
He just nodded. "I thought that."
He took a sip of whiskey, which fiery ran down his throat.
"Well, can you at least tell me then, why you are here again?" He looked at the golden liquid in his glass.
Amused, he realized that he had brought the young woman in a quandary. "Gillian. I'm not so stupid to believe you'd be here, because you were longing for me. So. Out with it. What can I do for you?"
Gillian was chewing on her bottom lip. Then she grinned. She could not fool him anyway.
With throbbing heart, she reached under her sweater and pulled out a roll of parchment, which she had worn a long long way with her up to here.
She leaned forward and handed the professor the brittle parchment, and her hair fell like a curtain over her face.
The professor stretched out his hand surprised and took the scroll.
He examined it, and Gillian got aware now that the parchment was in poor condition, and that it was no a suitable place of storage to stuff it under her clothes.
But she had always wanted to feel it safe and close to her. She could not risk to keep the scroll in any bag. It was far too precious.
And a too high price had been paid for it.
"Gillian," asked the professor perplexed. "What is this?"
With pride and excitement in her voice, Gillian said: "That's why I was gone. I have learned of the existence of this document. I hope it contains something that will help me."
"The Queen?", he said now excited as well.
Gillian nodded: "Yes."
The professor looked at the old paper. "Is this veritable?"
"Yes, it is authentic."
"Gillian," gasped the professor. "I don´t know where you got this from, and I do not even want to know. But this document is far too precious to be carried around!"
Gillian moved impatiently. "Read it!"
The professor refused. Touching it only with his fingertips he gave the scroll back to her. "First you will make a copy," he demanded. "And the you will put the original into the safe."
Grumbling, she grabbed the parchment and did as she has been told.
When she came back into the living room, the professor was asleep.
She could not blame him, it was five clock in the morning.
She gently shook him by the shoulder and he opened his sleepy watery eyes.
"Please, Professor. Read, "Gillian said softly, and handed him the copy.
The professor took his reading glasses, which were lying on a table under the lamp next to a pile of books. Awkwardly, he put them on and then unrolled the parchment.
His gray eyes flitted over the font in black ink and Gillian fidgeted in her chair. She watched every movement in the wrinkle -crossed face. Then he looked over the rim of his glasses at her.
"And?" Said Gillian applied. "What does it say?"
"It's Latin, Gillian." The professor smiled.
"So what? That's not a problem for you," Gillian called out impatiently.
"No, not for me," the professor said and chuckled. "But I'm wondering why it is for you."
Gillian's eyes narrowed. "You know, Latin is not really my strength."
"Not my strength," snorted the professor. "But it should!"
"Oh, come on!" Said Gillian.
The old man picked up a book from the pile under the lamp and threw it to her lap.
Gillian stared at the book.
It was a Latin dictionary.
"But," protested Gillian, "This is going to take weeks for me!"
The professor smiled.
Panting, he rose from the sofa.
"Your room is still untouched," he said. "You know, where you can find everything you might need."
He winked at her, and climbed the stairs to the upper floor.
Gillian stared at the sheet of paper in her hand.
This old sly fox, she thought.
Now I'll have to stay with him for a while.