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Chapter 18: Dreamt

I dreamed that once I was loosed free

Don't touch me, do not look at me

Carl dreamt some rather odd things; he dreamed he was talking with Sarai, a Transylvanian barmaid of his acquaintance; he dreamed of Anna Valerious, who, two inches taller than he in her high-heeled boots, bent and kissed his face. Even in his dream he immediately felt guilty— especially when Van Helsing showed up, arm in arm with Hannah.

"It's alright," said Van Helsing easily. "You can have Anna, dear friar of mine. She always thought you were rather attractive, anyway."

"But—"

"And at any rate, I've found the love of my life," Van Helsing went on, indicating Hannah, who blushed, smiled, and said happily, "Carl, we've decided to adopt you. Isn't that wonderful?"

Carl stared at them for a moment, then leaned back and shouted at the sky,

"NO IT IS NOT!"

"You must be having a terrible dream," said a voice.

Carl opened his eyes and found himself looking up into a face, upside down. "Oh, its you."

"It is," Tamerlaine agreed. "At least, it was, the last time I looked."

"Am I dead?"

"I don't think so."

"But you're not sure."

"I am rarely, if ever, sure on any subject, Mr. Hampton."

"Why must you call me that?"

She smiled and didn't reply, only patted his cheek fondly. "Who's Sarai?" she inquired.

"A— a friend of mine."

"In Rome?"

"In, er, Transylvania."

"Mm. What's her last name?"

"Er—" Carl thought frantically and drew a complete blank. "I don't know."

"Hmm. I suppose you weren't too intimate with her, then." She scrutinized Carl's face. "Why are you blushing?"

"Er— I'm not."

"As you like," said Tamerlaine Gentle with the air of someone who knows they're right but doesn't wish to argue. Carl remembered that air from when they were children. Coming fom a child of six, it had sounded precocious. From a woman of thirty-something, it was endearing. "And who, then, is Anna?"

Carl's slight smile faded. "Did I speak of Anna?"

"You did, in no uncertain terms."

Carl crossed his legs, leant his elbow on his knee and his chin on his heand. This was a comfortable position which he favored but was unable to assume, normally, because whilst wearing robes it was rendered indecent. He'd forgotten till now that he was wearing borrowed trousers. He took comfort in them, while noticing that he didn't have a lot of feeling in his leg. He decided to ignore this. Mentioning it to Tamerlaine would only worry her.

"Anna," he began, "is— was— a friend of mine. More than a friend to Van Helsing. He was in love with her, I think."

"Were you?"

"Was I in love with Anna? No— not in love. I admired her a great deal. I admire any woman who can run as fast as a man in three inch heels." Tamerlaine laughed. "And she certainly knew how to handle herself."

"The way you speak of her, she certainly did," agreed Tamerlaine. "And so did your friend woo her, the traditional way, or was it the other way around?"

"He kissed her," exclaimed Carl rapturously, "right in front of me and that abomination of a creature called Igor. I'll have to tell you about Igor, he assaulted me with lightening on a stick. But Van Helsing, Van Helsing grabbed her," he demonstrated, "and pulled her to him, and kissed her— for about ten minutes."

"Oooh," said Tamerlaine, her eyes bright. "And did she faint?"

"No, she ran off with me."

Tamerlaine clapped her hands and said, "Bravo, Anna!"

"We went and had some interesting conversations on the properties of viscous materials, and were rudely interrupted by a vampire. That's how I got this." Carl rolled back his sleeve and displayed his scar. Tamerlaine made appreciative noises.

"I'll bet Anna wished she had stayed with your friend."

"Possibly," Carl admitted, "though she was casting some fairly languishing glances at me during our part of the adventure."

"I'll bet she was." Tamerlaine laughed. "It's a shame you're a monk, Carl, you have it in you to be one of the greatest romance writers of this century."

Carl sobered, gradually. "Well— it was very sad, you know."

Tam's mood matched his. "How did she die?" she asked quietly.

Carl considered the various forms the answer to this could take. "It was a mistake," he said finally. "A terrible, tragic, awful mistake."

"Oh," said Tamerlaine. "Oh, I know about those."

For a little while they were quiet, then Carl said, "Tam— our conversation since I awoke has been dedicatedly frivolous. Won't you tell me what's going on?"

Tamerlaine pulled her knees into her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. "I thought you liked being frivolous."

"I do. Your kind of frivolous. But I'm, I must admit, a little worried about the fact that I appear to be held captive by some madman with," Carl remembered, "certain violent tendencies. Who is he, Tamerlaine?"

Tam was very quiet, as though thinking very hard.

Finally, she spoke.

"He is my uncle," she said.