Chapter Eighteen: Vampires and Vukodlaci

Their mouths fell open when they reached the other side of the hidden enchantments. For where there had been nothing but empty mountaintop before, there was now a grand and gothic castle silhouetted against the waning moon. It had tall turrets and towers; battlements and balustrades; great arched windows glazed with bright stained glass and narrow, slitty windows - open to the elements - to fire arrows from; flag poles and flying buttresses and thick, stone walls that looked like they could withstand a besieging army for six months.

A moat circled the whole fortress, a silver ribbon in the moonlight, snaking through the rock - and on the other side, they could just make out the three figures disappearing through the bailey, with their own suitcase… Meaning, no matter what their misgivings, they had no choice but to follow.

They crossed a bridge over the moat and followed their mysterious hosts through the large, arched gateway of the keep. A couple of feet of portcullis hung down from the top of the gateway - and though there was plenty of room, both men ducked their heads as they went under it. For some reason he wasn't quite sure of, Remus was inordinately relieved that the barred gate did not slam down into place behind them, once they were through. It was good to know - while so much was still unknown - that the exit was unbarred.

'You know what this reminds me of?' Sirius muttered under his breath, as they crept inside. 'That moving picture we watched back in Luxembourg - about Jonathan and the creepy, old man with the shadow that moved by itself.'

'Yes - the Countess and her nephews do seem - er - rather pale, don't they?'

'Do you think we're going to get crawled all over by half naked women with fangs? Wanting … favours. '

Remus shuddered, 'Merlin - I hope not.'

'Yeah - you don't want your first kiss to be with a vampire girl.'

'I'm pretty sure it would prove to be my first and last.'

'Whatever you do - don't put your wand away.'

Inside the Keep, they found themselves in a large and very grand hallway. The ceiling was high, and supported by vast pillars of stone which had been ornately carved, so that gargoyle-like faces peered out at them from all angles, eldritch and unsettling.

There was a fireplace so tall and wide that it reached high above the height of a man and measured almost the width of the entire hallway. A roaring fire of green flames crackled away beneath the mantle, which - like the pillars - was made of stone and carved with hideous grimacing faces; some demonic; some human but twisted in terrible pain - like souls in torment. The emerald flames were heavily perfumed - and they seemed to cast a sickly somnolence into the atmosphere which made Remus feel slow and sleepy and stupid all at once. Above the fireplace was a massive coat of arms - a crescent moon and a raven on a dark blue background with the motto: 'sanguis noster primitiva sua.'

Remus stared at it - not understanding the words.

'Blood is our birthright,' Sirius muttered to him in an undertone, translating.

He looked at him in surprise. Sirius was terrible at languages. Not that he was any good, himself - but Sirius point blank refused to try. But Sirius only raised an eyebrow and gave him a smirk. 'I'm from the house of Toujurs Pur,' he said. 'I know how to translate a pretentious coat of arms.'

Remus nodded - and tore his eyes away, looking around the rest of the hall instead. It was not any more comforting.

There were finely woven tapestries on the bare, stone walls. The little thready figures entwined with the background acted out stories… mostly showing scenes from battles, or mobs besieging castles. There was one depicting a troll hunt - and another where a pack of slavering wolves were being chased by cloaked people who appeared to be flying. Despite the movement - and the clear noisiness and violence of the scenes - they emitted no sound. The woven figures fought and warred and hunted and died in silence. Their mouths opened in screams - but they were screams no one could hear.

Portraits lined the sweeping staircase, oil paintings of people in old fashioned clothes - who had the same waxy skin and strange eyes as Countess Orlock and her nephews. The boys could feel the hungry way the pale, painted people watched them as they entered, and it made them shudder.

A long, wooden table stood beneath an elegant chandelier, which was lit up by what seemed like a thousand candles. But the brightness in the centre of the hallway only seemed to make the shadows around the edges deeper, darker and more menacing … and Remus eyed them warily, as if half expecting something else to materialise out of the gloom - the way their hosts had materialised out of their enchantments.

There were candles lining the table too - in finely wrought silver candlesticks - and it had been set for five people; though how their hosts had known how many of them would be dining tonight, the boys did not know.

'Please, please…' the Countess smiled her sharp toothed smile at them again, and waved a hand towards the table, 'take a seat - we shall get you wine. Florin,' she clapped her hands - and one of her nephews brought out a dusty bottle of green glass - and poured something thick and red into their goblets.

Sirius picked up his own and gave the contents a sniff, before deciding it definitely was wine and taking a sip. Remus, on the other hand, reached out - and then drew his hand away, as if he had been burned. 'Er - is there any chance I could have another glass?' he asked. He felt himself blush - heat flooding right the way through him, as he risked exposing himself with his aversion to silver. 'And …' he glanced miserably down at all the silverware laid out in front of him, 'different everything else, as well. Silver is…' he trailed off and blushed some more.

Countess Orlock gave him an appraising look, but then smiled once again - as if she saw nothing untoward - 'of course, Ionut, fetch our guest silverware which is not made of silver.'

'Thank you,' Remus mumbled, and flushed yet again. He could feel Sirius' eyes on him - and he looked up and shrugged at him. There was nothing he could do. He could not touch any of the fine things that had been laid out before him, not without burning and blistering his hands.

Once some pewter knives and forks and spoons had been found, a proper glass and a porcelain plate, the nephews brought out bowls of soup. Like the wine, it was thick and red - and, once again, Sirius sniffed it suspiciously.

'Beetroot,' the Countess told him.

'Is that right?'

'What else would it be?' She smiled sweetly at him … but every one of her sharp teeth were on view.

Remus coughed. 'Not to be rude,' he said, 'but - er - you are vampires, aren't you?' He glanced between the woman and her two nephews - noting once again the waxy paleness of their skin.

'Is that a problem?'

'No - er - it's just … we don't meet many vampires.'

'Well, my nephews and I are quite harmless - let me assure you. We are, ourselves, the victims of a most unjust persecution. We have been forced to flee our own home for what we are. We have set ourselves up here, in safety, and find it most pleasing.' She gave a little tinkling laugh. 'That is - it was most pleasing once we had cleared out the Vukodlaci. '

Sirius furrowed his brow. 'Vukodlaci? '

'Oh, horrible, dark creatures,' the Countess told him, pulling a disapproving face. 'Barely more than animals. No - not even that - animals. Pure and simple. Monsters. Local beasts that used to make the mountain their home. Outcast from the town beneath, you see. We could not be sharing our new sanctuary with their kind. Rough, hairy brutes of things… But we hunted them all down in the end. Killed many ourselves, caged the rest and now we enjoy watching them kill each other. It is our monthly entertainment.' She laughed again.

Sirius and Remus looked at each other, their faces troubled. 'Sounds... fun…' Sirius said slowly. But Remus was frowning to himself … the word 'vukodlaci' seemed familiar - like he had heard it before and should know what it meant. Only he couldn't quite place it.

'So - that is our story,' the Countess said, still smiling disarmingly. 'What is yours?'

'We're - er- travelling to Albania,' Remus said. 'To meet up with an old friend.'

'How wonderful … but you are wizards - why are you walking?'

They exchanged another glance - not sure what to say. But Countess Orlock did not give them time to come up with a response. She leaned across the table, from her place at the head of it, and sniffed at Sirius. 'You haven't much magic,' she said to him. 'Barely a wizard at all.'

He blushed bright red - as red as his beetroot soup. 'I've been in an accident.'

'Yes your arm - quite nasty - you bled a lot.' Her voice became thick, there was almost a growl to it as she spoke of blood - and Sirius' eyebrows shot to the top of his head in alarm. 'And now you have lost your powers … your blood is common blood.' She sniffed again. 'You have lost your purity.'

'I'm not sure I ever had much of that,' he said stiffly.

'And you - ' she turned suddenly from Sirius and sniffed at Remus instead, '...are allergic to silver.'

'Yes,' he felt the blush come back - but he stared at her determinedly.

'A pity,' she commented. 'Silver is so very beautiful. It is a shame to be denied beauty.' She sniffed again. 'But your blood was never pure.'

'We don't believe in that nonsense,' Sirius said - his voice was calm, but it had an edge to it. 'We know everyone is as good as each other - no matter what they are born. Magic or muggle.'

Her strange eyes seemed to flash dangerously in the firelight. 'Perhaps what you are born does not matter - but what about what you may become?' She looked between the two of them.

But Sirius gazed at her stonily. 'If it's not your fault, then it doesn't make a difference.'

The strange light in her eye seemed to vanish and her smile became broad again. 'But of course. You two young men are wise beyond your years. If anyone should know that birth is not destiny, it is we persecuted vampires.'

'What about the persecuted vukodlaci ?' Sirius asked, rather snidely. By now the soup had been replaced by a white bean stew and more wine had been poured. The nephews flitted around the table silently - only sitting down to eat once Remus, Sirius and the Countess had been served.

The Countess laughed again - the unearthly tinkling, silvery bell that made her seem simultaneously frightening and desirable. 'Surely even you boys don't think animals are equals? It is one thing to believe in a fraternity of equals with all beings … but with the beasts?'

'There's a big difference between recognising beast status - and thinking something deserves to die because of what it is,' Sirius said. 'Or that it should be locked in a cage and baited for the entertainment of its betters.'

Remus, meanwhile, was pretending to take a great interest in his stew … This conversation was cutting a little too close to home for him to want to be a part of it. When he chanced a glance up, it was to see Sirius' eyes on him … When he saw Remus looking, Sirius gave him a swift and comforting smile - and then turned back to the Countess. 'So - how come it's you and your nephews? Where are their parents?'

Her eyes flashed again in the firelight, and for a moment she looked quite dangerous - as if she found Sirius' question impertinent. But she answered with the same aristocratic courtesy she had shown them throughout. 'As I said, we have been persecuted and forced to flee our home - to come to this distant land. There was … an altercation…'

'An angry mob?' Sirius asked her.

'Yes - I suppose - my sister, her husband - my own dear husband, the Count - were all killed. Though of course it is against Ministry policy to have us hunted that way … as if we are common vukodlaci . Perhaps one day we will see justice, perhaps those that killed my husband will be punished and we can return to our true home, but still… the castle does us for now. It is safe, it's walls are thick and it is most comfortable.'

'Have you sought justice from the Ministry?'

Her smile grew wider, nastier - her teeth looked sharper for a moment. 'When we seek justice - we shall seek it in our own way.'

Remus and Sirius glanced at each other, thinking they understood only too well what she meant.

The white bean stew was finished, and one of the nephews brought out dessert - a rich summer fruit pudding which, like the beetroot soup, oozed suspiciously red. 'So - er - ' Remus cast his mind around for something to say … Whenever the hall went quiet, the perfumed flames seemed to grow stronger - making his eyelids heavier - and he became more acutely aware of the pale portraits watching him closely. 'Is the wizarding town close by?' he asked, in the end, 'you said it was at the foot of the mountain?'

'Yes - Zacaranivac. An enchanting little town … though we seldom venture in ourselves. We prefer the private solitude of the mountaintop.'

'And is there a healer there, do you know?' he asked, 'only - we would like to get someone to look at Sirius' arm.'

Sirius gave him a dark look that quite plainly said 'thanks', as the vampire woman raked her eyes over him and took in his wound once again. There was just something in the hunger of her expression that suggested all too clearly she was thinking about all the blood that had spilled from the wound when it was fresh.

'There is a healer, I believe,' she said. 'Though I would be happy to take a look at it myself.'

'I bet you would,' Sirius murmured. Remus kicked him under the table and he coughed and said out loud. 'No need. The muggles have cleaned it and done everything they can without dittany. Now all I need is someone magic to grow back the missing part for me. So … unless you have any dittany lying around …' He shrugged and then winced - remembering too late he should not use his arm.

An awkward silence fell across the table once more - and Remus felt his eyes grow heavy again, as the green flames of the fire spread their sickly perfume over him … But then the stillness was destroyed and all the cobwebs blown away by a terrible wailing and rattling, and the sound of iron clanging. Both men looked around in alarm. 'What was that?' Remus asked sharply.

'Nothing at all to worry about,' the Countess told him - and her voice was as smooth as silk, though her eyes still flashed. 'It is just what remains of the vukodlaci … sometimes they … get rambunctious. Ionut ,' her voice became more like a bark, 'go and shut them up.' Then she returned to her more honeyed tones. 'And Florin, why don't you show our guests to their rooms? They must be tired and wishing to rest.'

'Rooms?' Sirius frowned as he took in the plurality. 'We don't need separate rooms, we're used to sharing.'

'Nonsense - the castle is large, it would bring shame on our family, if we made guests share chambers when we could easily offer them their own quarters. And grown men such as yourself should not share a room like little boys.'

'Really - we prefer it…'

But she would not listen, and waved away their protestations. 'Florin,' she said again, 'escort our guests to their rooms.'

Her nephew seized two of the silver candlesticks and began to carry them up the sweeping staircase and - feeling Countess Orlock's eyes on them - Remus and Sirius felt they had no choice but to follow. They kept shooting alarmed glances at each other, though. It was not just reluctance to spend a night apart, their preference to sleep curled around each other staving off the loneliness of the previous 12 years, that worried them.

This castle felt dangerous, their situation precarious and they did not fully trust their hosts … and Sirius was still struggling to perform magic. If it all went wrong … he would not be able to defend himself … and Remus couldn't help but feel that this was why the Countess wanted them in separate rooms. It was nothing to do with hospitality and family honour - it was because they were both weaker and more vulnerable when they were apart … but right now, Sirius was especially so.

...

The higher they climbed up the sweeping staircase, the darker it became - as they travelled further away from the grand chandelier of the dining hall. The darkness pressed in on all sides and the flames of the candles flickered and guttered - although the air was still and there was no breeze. The eyes of the portraits followed them all the way up - the paleness of the painted faces being the only thing that loomed out of the encroaching black.

They reached the landing - which was no less gloomy than the stairs, though the stars peered in through the narrow windows. 'In here,' Florin said, coming to a stop outside a door. It creaked loudly on its hinges as he opened it. Florin went inside and placed one of the candles down on the bedside table. 'For you,' he nodded at Sirius, beckoning him inside.

Sirius gave Remus one final look of alarm, and then went into the bedroom. Florin bowed his head - and then left, closing the door. 'Moon-' Sirius' worried voice was cut off as he was shut inside. Remus made as if to open the door - to get back to Sirius - but Florin shook his head.

'This way,' and he led Remus further down the landing.

For a moment, Remus looked at the closed door - thinking about ignoring Florin and just going to Sirius, spending the night together - but then he felt the vampire's eyes watching him … and realised that, if they were in danger, behaving in a way that would annoy their hosts was not likely to make it any better. He hurried off down the landing, following the taciturn vampire. 'You know - we really do prefer to share…' he said.

But Florin shook his head and remained silent. They reached another door, and - like before - this one was opened with a creak - and Florin went inside and placed the candle on the bedside table. 'I hope you will be most comfortable,' he said, before bowing and leaving the room - shutting Remus inside.

Remus looked around by the light of his candle. There was a large four poster, with red velvet drapes and yet more gargoyle faces carved into the wood. There was a large window that looked out straight onto the waning gibbous moon and, shuddering, Remus pulled the shutters closed - blocking out the pale light it cast. A portrait hung on the wall - yet another pale, waxy skinned vampire - and though it pretended to sleep, Remus could feel it watching him through eyes only opened the narrowest of cracks.

He didn't want someone watching him. If he was going to escape, he certainly didn't want a witness. He flicked his wand and the picture flew from the wall - its inhabitant yelping. He caught the frame and then placed the whole thing down on the floor, turning it to the wall so it could no longer look at him.

'How dare you-' the vampire in the painting started to protest, so he flicked his wand again and muttered 'silencio. ' The portrait might still be yelling at him but, like the creepy, moving tapestries downstairs, it was now yelling soundlessly.

He sat down on the bed - and finally saw something that made his spirits rise slightly. The suitcase was already in here. So he had their map and money back. He could just take it now, go and grab Sirius and then they would try and sneak their way out of the castle, through the enchantments and then run down the mountain side all the way to Zacaranivac.

He grabbed it and got to his feet - but just as he did, the door swung open again with an almighty creak. His heart leapt, hoping this was Sirius coming to escape with him, but then sank when he saw the Countess standing in the doorway. She was clutching a goblet - which he hoped was pewter - because if it was silver he wasn't touching it … no matter how much it annoyed her.

'I hope you find your room to your liking,' she said to him, smiling her sharp toothed smile.

'Yes,' he nodded - letting go of the case, 'very nice. Very comfortable.'

'I took the liberty of preparing you a potion to help you sleep. Essence of Papaver.'

'Thank you - though I usually sleep quite well. I'm sure it won't be necessary.'

'Come now, you are used to sleeping with your companion are you not?'

He flushed at her words, but if she saw - in the darkness - she did not comment. 'Sleeping alone when one is used to company can be so very difficult. I should know,' she sighed sadly. 'I was with my husband, the Count, for over three hundred years. I find the days very lonely without him.' She held out the goblet - and must have seen his hesitation. 'It is not silver,' she assured him.

He took it from her, not knowing what else to do. 'Well, Sirius and I have known each other a long time - but not quite three hundred years.' He sniffed at the potion. It smelled strongly of poppyseed - and he felt his eyes grow heavy just from the fumes.

'You are still young men,' the Countess said to him.

He frowned … there was something hungry in her voice again. 'I think only people who are over three hundred would class us as young,' he said. 'We're definitely past our prime.'

'Nonsense. I can sense it on you - the youth - you are both … untouched.'

Remus flushed again. Again, she did not comment. ' … Now, make sure you drink all that up.' She watched him intently, and he raised the goblet to his lips and pretended to take a sip.

'Thank you,' he said again, and faked another sip.

She nodded in satisfaction - and then backed out of the door. 'Good night,' she said to him.

'Good night.'

Once the door was shut, he crossed the room, opened one shutter for just a moment and tipped the strong scented potion right out of the window. Then he put the goblet down, picked the case up again and went to the door, pressing his ear to the wood to listen for footsteps or voices … to check he was alone.

He heard the Countess talking to her nephews, her voice was low - but in the quiet of the night he could hear every word. 'Once the dirty vukodlak is asleep, grab it and cage it with the others. We can have ourselves merry sport watching it be torn apart at the next moon.'

'And the other?' one of the vampire men asked.

She snorted. 'It's powerless. Virtually a muggle. You boys can drain it, if you wish - though I doubt its filthy blood will offer much sustenance. It has been long enough - check on the vukodlak ...'

And then Remus heard footsteps coming back towards his door. He fled back to the bed and flung himself down on it, closing his eyes and pretending to sleep. The door creaked open, he forced himself not to look. And then it was closed again.

'Its breathing is not regular - it is not yet fully asleep,' he heard one of the nephews say.

'Pity…' and then came the sound of footsteps walking away - getting quieter.

Alone in his room, Remus sat up again - his eyes wide open. He remembered now where he knew the word Vukodlak from:

it had been on his wanted poster.

It was the word he had been willing to bet all of Sirius' money meant 'werewolf'. These vampires were hunting and killing werewolves … and they meant to do the same to him. The wailing and rattling they had heard had come from the men they had imprisoned, men they were going to watch tear each other apart next time they transformed - and they intended for Remus to join them. And from the sound of it, Sirius was fated to little better.

They were in every bit as much danger as Remus had feared they would be … They needed to escape.