Train Ride

Anton led his jennet Manna through the crowd on the platform, carefully, to avoid any accidents with the bustling people. But people hastened to make way for him as quickly as possible anyway today, for Manna pulled a small cart holding a coffin.

A long train waited on the platform for its passengers, going to Vienna in half an hour's time. Everywhere people were saying goodbye to each other, talking cheerfully. Guttersnipes carried the heavy luggage of the travelers for a small coin. Dogs and even a birdcage were handed through open windows into the train.

Anton halted Manna for a short while. He wanted to take in the picture before his eyes. He loved it when his master assigned him a transport hither. There were always so many things to be seen. There! A woman in pants! Anton was not surprised at the disapproving looks the other people gave her. But the woman didn't seem to care at all.

Anton wished so much to board one of these trains himself one day. Just getting away from Kronstadt, seeing someplace new. Vienna! There must be such splendor there. The castles of their emperor, for instance.

Anton once asked a conductor about the cities, the train would pass on its way to Vienna. The way seemed endless to him, and he recited the cities in his mind, as if they were treasured words: Klausenburg (A/N: today: Cluj-Napoca), Debrecen, Budapest, and Pressburg (Bratislava). The train would need almost 24 hours for this way; it'd arrive at Vienna tomorrow morning.

Anton sighed. Oh, how he envied the travelers. But it was no good to dwell on this dream. He couldn't see himself affording the passage ever. He was lucky enough that the small wage the master gave him was sufficient for his daily bread. This brought his thoughts back to his task. A small click with his tongue and his donkey trotted on again. Anton led her to the baggage car that was right between a coal wagon and the first passenger wagon.

"Hello Georg," he called, when he recognized the young lad who was busy organizing the train's packages.

Georg turned around and smiled after he had given one of his fellows an order for the packing of some suitcases

"Anton. Your master also has a charge for us?" he asked, nearing the cart and peeking inside inquiringly. Astonished, he added, "Another coffin? Well – it occurs from time to time that a decesed – may God rest his soul - is sent to his family by train, but three at once? We already stored two coffins today," he explained, when Anton appeared puzzled. "Why is there a net around this one?"

Anton shrugged his shoulders. "Must have been a fisherman, from what I've overheard. He shall be brought to Vienna, to his family. My master only said that this net is very important for his relatives; a family heirloom, and that it must not be taken off in no case.

Georg scratched his head. "Some people are really weird. Well, I don't mind – the net will be helpful by entraining it for sure... But I fear you have to go to the baggage wagon at the far end of the train, this one's too full already. Speak to Moritz down there."

Anton nodded and waved Georg goodbye before he led Manna farther down the platform, which was emptying bit by bit as the departure neared. Moritz's baggage wagon still had enough room for the coffin and Anton helped entrain it before he and his jennet got on the way back to the workshop.

When he arrived, he heard the whistle of the train leaving the station in the distance. Anton sighed once more longingly as he turned around to face his daily grind.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Tired out, Professor Abronsius allowed himself to rest his head for a moment on the compartment wall while the train began to move, shooting steam into the sky above. The piercing whistle of the bugle ripped him out of the doze he had fallen into almost immediately. Sighing, he rubbed his eyes and looked longingly at the bunk opposite.

He had been lucky to get a ticket for a sleeper in the shortness of the time left. He was alone right now; the other five passengers sharing the sleeper with him were sitting in the compartment next to this. Abronsius knew the seats there must be more comfortable than this folding chair, but here he could dwell on his thoughts in peace.

Even if his thoughts wanted nothing more than to sleep right now. Of course he hadn't closed his eyes this night for just one minute. Who could sleep when death was sitting beside their bed? Admittedly, Abronsius had known how irrational his anxiety had been – he could not have defended himself if the worst had come to the worst, awake or asleep. But in case it happened, he had preferred to see harm coming to him.

Since his eye lids threatened to fall again, he shook himself and pulled the worn notebook out of his pocket. He opened it where his pen was tucked in. Intrigued, he turned back the pages and stroked over the hastily scribbled words from last night.

The Count had been quite talkative. It was likely that only half of it was true, but he could worry about that later. Now, he simply wanted to believe these compelling answers to be true. This kind of thinking was strange to him, but he was just too tired for cool logic.

With restless eyes, he flew over the lines and relived some of the questions of last night in his memory.

"Can you turn into a bat?"

"No." The Count had sounded annoyed.

"A cockroach?"

The vampire had just stared at him incredulously. Apparently, he thought the mere question to be an insult. To tell the truth, Abronsius had not believed in this theory himself. It had been one of Alibori's ideas. But he wanted to be the first in verifying all of the theories there were.

"My esteemed Professor-," Abronsius heard the sarcasm in the Count's voice, "- if I could change in an animal as small as bats or cockroaches – don't you think THAT would have been the first thing for me to do? Both kinds of animals would be out of these chains and this confounded net at once. And before you ask the next question: No, I can not change into a bigger animal, either. You said you hold the chair of natural science? How could this turning even be physically possible?"

Abronsius had felt lectured as a little boy in this moment. But yes – the Count was right. There was no logical explanation for this capability. He was appalled that he was actually a bit disappointed that this magical skill should be a fable.

Determined, he had went on to another subject, which had been mentioned that night already, but to which the Count had given no answer.

"So, what about telepathy?"

The count smirked. He waited a bit, as if he had to ponder the question thoroughly. Finally, he spoke.

"Well, there is telepathy, but it's not limited to vampires. Everyone could do it if they could muster enough concentration, fixation, and imagination. Therefore it's easier for vampires than for humans. I could explain to you how it works and you could try do to it – though I have not heard of many humans that are able to do it – but I won't.

Abronsius had shut his mouth when he had realized that his jaw had dropped. That was most interesting. Of course he was compelled at once to try it. So he asked, "Why not? I would not dread the attempt."

"I can well believe it. But to do telepathy, there must be a connection from mind to mind. This connection, once established, is irreversible. And since it is like a door opened to a stranger, it's not only my being able to wander in the stranger's mind, but also the other way around. And everyone prefers to control who wanders in their mind and who can't. That's why this way of communication is not wide-spread. There is but one person I have this connection with. It's not the only person ever, but the only still existing. If I succeeded in training you how to do it, I would have to kill you afterwards to throw you out of my mind again."

"Wouldn't you kill me anyway, if you could?"

"Indubitably."

Abronsius couldn't help it, he had to chuckle at the time. This may be the only honest answer up to now. He pondered the things the Count had said. It really wasn't a pleasant imagination, having someone entering your mind and seeing all your thoughts, however privy. There must be great trust in the other person to allow him such. Was it possible that the Count had spoken honestly? Could vampires feel love, hate – and trust?

"What range does this work for?"

"A certain distance is covered. I'd estimate about a mile. You have to 'see' with your mind that far, in order to find the familiar other mind."

The Count had almost convinced Abronsius to tell him about Vienna. Almost. The Count could not allay his alertness completely.

He read also the other notes he had made last night. Answers to as many questions as the Professor could think of – crucifixes, garlic, blood, ways to destroy vampires. Somehow the Count maintained a low profile on that last subject. Well, he couldn't really hold this against him. The Count had only said something about beheading. Grinning mockingly he had said:

"Please, tell me one creature that has survived a beheading."

"Cockroaches." It came promptly.

The Count had shook his head. "A cockroach might live for some days after beheading, that is true. But eventually it will starve."

Well, he wasn't wrong.

Deeply immersed in his notes, Abronsius didn't realize time passing him by. All tiredness was gone. He didn't even notice the halt in Klausenburg. He only looked up when a servant looked into the compartment.

"Excuse me – are you Professor Abronsius?"

He looked up and nodded to the boy.

"It's time for dinner, Professor," he said pleadingly.

Confused, Abronsius pulled out his watch and looked at the face. It was really that late? Most interesting!

He followed the boy to the seating compartment, where there was scarcely any space to turn, for the extracted table was placed dead in the middle. He took the only free seat, looking at his fellow passengers for the first time, before turning to the soup that had just been served.

After dinner, tiredness came back at full tilt. He decided it was late enough to lay down in his bunk, even if his fellow travelers would do so much later. He took off and folded his jacket and cardigan in the sleeper and laid down carefully as to not bump his head. He barely had time for his head to hit the pillow before he was fast asleep.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The rattling sounds the train caused by running over the tracks melted with his dreams as Alfred woke slowly from his rest. He idly opened his eyes and found himself lying in a narrow coffin. There was hardly room to move a muscle. Alfred felt panic rising up inside him, but before it fully hit, memory came back to him.

All was fine. He was dead and dead people belonged in coffins. He went in there all by himself, in this dark basement of this shifty vampire they were led to the last morning. He also remembered the mechanism in the lid, which would enable him to open the coffin from inside. The vampire had explained exactly how to work it.

Now that he knew he could get out of the coffin anytime he wanted, he found himself not wanting to. Now he preferred to finally be on his own for a couple of minutes, or even a bit longer. He felt how his head was almost bursting with unthought thoughts. He had not really had time to properly think about his new situation since the Count had turned him and he had woken as a vampire in his castle. First, all he could think about had been hunger. Then there had been concern for the Count and the unease of their forced ride. Whenever he was off the horse's back, his thoughts had revolved around Herbert and how to help him.

But now, alone in this coffin, the soothing rattling of the train as a background, he finally had time to think about himself. There was nothing they could do this night anyway, locked in the baggage car of the train.

Alfred concentrated on his breathing for some minutes. It was odd that he still breathed. He knew he didn't have to, but apparently his body was so used to 21 years of the constant habit that he couldn't stop it unconsciously. Now, of course, he could hold his breath willingly, but as soon as he would stop doing it consciously, his lungs would probably begin their pointless work again.

He put this on the list containing all the funny things there were about being a vampire. There was another thing; he was almost used to by now. Constant hunger. Something told him he'd still be hungry after sucking the blood out of two grown men. This hunger never seemed to cease. He remembered Herbert's words to him the first night – they seemed to confirm this theory. He had asked him, if it was usual for any newly-risen vampire, that they were that hungry. And Herbert had only answered, that it was usual for vampires in general. While breathing was odd, if not annoying, the hunger was really bothersome.

He wondered if he'd ever been able to control it like Herbert did back at their host's. Could the Count's son restrain himself always that well, or was it just because he had fed on a man the night before?

Herbert... He was the only vampire to whom he had had real contact with yet. Was he the usual vampire, or exceptional? Alfred could not determine it. Herbert treated the human, crippled servant in the castle very contemptuously. The vampires living at the castle graveyard also seemed to leave him in the cold, figuratively and literally. At the very least there was no trace of pity. And he had killed the farmer from the village without batting an eyelash, after he had lied to and used him. Moreover, the many girls the Count killed yearly seemed to leave him callous.

That was one side of Herbert. The one Alfred was able to relate to best at the moment. He could not really put into words how he felt right now, especially in regard to other creatures. He was indifferent towards the death of the farmer and this scared him a bit. He also had no sympathy with Koukól, even if he couldn't share Herbert's exaggerated disgust. Whenever he had tried to visualize a meeting with the Professor or his family in the past night – he could not say how he would react to them. He didn't feel hatred but he had also lost the previous feelings of love for his parents and siblings; the respect for Professor Abronsius. He simply couldn't feel it anymore.

This realization was alarming. If he met his brother or sisters today – would he kill them without hesitation? Probably. It was a relief to realize that he felt a little bit shocked about this, at the very least. The observations of Herbert also bolstered his spirits.

For there was the other side of him. Herbert's love for his father was plain. He had been cordial to Robert. And he had been receptive and friendly to him, at least in their first night.

Perhaps it was something that came with time? It was comforting to know that the indifference he felt right now could possibly be reversed. He had no idea how old Herbert was, but he could ask him. He couldn't ask him about the indifference, though – what if Herbert laughed at him? He hated to be laughed at. He had had to endure it too often during childhood and youth.

Alfred smiled when he realized that he apparently wasn't indifferent towards one person. Himself. Quite the contrary. His own well-being was more important to him than ever. He added this to the pros. He remembered that feeling of triumph the night before last, when he was working that pump. Unwittingly, he tensed his muscles. Muscles that now could do so much more than simply carry his Professor's heavy bag.

Professor Abronsius – he hoped he was right with his assumptions about his plans. Hopefully, he was really headed for Vienna, eventually. The thought to kill him didn't trouble him at all, other than killing his family. Abronsius had forfeited his life when he had set hand to his sire.

He wasn't indifferent towards his sire either, Alfred had to confess. To tell the truth, he loved him more than his own life – while part of his sanity felt raped for it. But he suppressed this thought. He accepted his fate. That was way easier than to fight it.

If he could rescue and free his Lord, he'd be rewarded for sure. Perhaps the castle's cemetery would recede into the distance, even if this experiment with Herbert didn't work out.

As yet it was only the Count's heir who could save him from this miserable un-life. Not much had happened yet; there had been no time. Aside from the kissing on their first evening, and that he remembered to have been quite pleasant. Yes, he had comforted Herbert these past two nights. Expediency having been the biggest motivation, but not solely, as he had to admit to himself. It also had been his twinge of guilt and the realization, that Herbert really needed some comfort.

He liked the other vampire. So he wasn't indifferent towards him, either. But how far could this "liking" go? Alfred hadn't the slightest idea. But right now he felt he could cope with Herbert well. He was curious to find out if that would keep on when Herbert became more demanding. He had no imagination of what was coming up to him – well, maybe an imagination of the thing itself, but how would it feel? He was a bit anxious as well as curious. But most of all, he didn't care.

Alfred closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He really hoped that he could get rid of this indifference that laid there like a heavy cloth over him. The start was done, for he DID care that he didn't care. He had to work on it. For he guessed that indifference was the fastest way to the graveyard.

Finally, he opened his eyes again and worked the mechanism of the coffin-lid. When he opened it, his first sight was Herbert, sitting on his own coffin, looking at him intensely.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Herbert looked at Alfred's closed coffin. He knew the other vampire to be awake, since he heard his breathing. Most vampires breathed normally, just like living humans; only very few unlearned it. It was not bothersome, so why the effort? But they only breathed when they were awake. Asleep they were the corpses they should be.

Herbert could open the lid and drag Alfred out himself so that he would keep him company. After all, Alfred had volunteered to do so.

But he gave him the time he needed. He should have half an hour to himself for reflecting. Herbert could still remember his early years as a vampire. The confusion one felt while comparing all the emotions with those that were once there when he or she was still human. It took some time to leave the human behind and even longer to forget him. But if he forgot on this way to build a new being, a new character, all was lost. The results could be reviewed at their graveyard anytime.

But it required strength of character and intensive work. And help of an anchoring figure. Herbert and his father were only how they were because they had had each other. Herbert called it "training humanity". Until emotions won over the indifference every vampire felt at the beginning.

He'd help Alfred with it, if he would let him. The start was promising, even if Herbert did wish it to be different. He thought back to the only kiss he had stolen from Alfred – a long and intense kiss. Memory alone sent shivers down his spine and heat into his lower parts. He would have loved to have taken the young man already. But circumstances did not allow it – would not allow it – until his father was safe.

But still he was determined, not to idle away this waiting time. He at least wanted to figure out, who Alfred was. All he knew was that Alfred was an intelligent student of natural science, could give good advice and could ride. And he had given him comfort these last nights, when he had needed it most. He seemed to be able to respond to him better than most in a long time.

Increasingly restless, he stared at the closed coffin lid as if he could gape it open with only his eyes. Finally it moved and Alfred appeared. He looked at Herbert questioningly, as if expecting a sermon any moment.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Alfred watched Herbert expectantly – would he be rebuked? Herbert appeared slightly upset. He became even more confused when the other vampire's air changed within the blink of an eye and was now smiling warmly at him. Had he known Herbert better, he would have known him to simply be tensed up.

"Did you rest well?" Herbert asked and, without waiting for a reply, he went on: "I already had a look around here – only rubbish and gewgaw, no animals, unfortunately. We'll have to wait until Vienna before we can feed again."

"Have you been to Vienna at all?" Alfred asked the first question that came to mind.

"A few times with my father." Herbert's air darkened some. "We have been to almost every European capital at least once. Seeing something else entirely than the castle and woods surrounding it. There is a lot of boredom to eternity. A journey is always a welcome change. Mostly, at least," Herbert sighed. "You?"

Alfred shook his head. "No, the journey to Transylvania had been my first real trip. So far I had always been in the German Empire."

"Where are you from?"

Alfred smiled. He realized he was being interrogated now. All right. Herbert had the right to know who'd be sharing his bed in future. And he really didn't have secrets to hide. So he began to talk:

"From around Krefeld. My great-grandfather once helped the territorial prince back then out of a tight spot – don't ask, this is really all I know and I'm not so sure I'd want to know the whole story. Anyway, the prince had been so grateful that he gave my great-grandfather a piece of cultivated land including a manor and the title of a baron. Its former owner had fell from favor a year before. Well, my father and grandfather obviously knew how to behave, so we still hold that title. Allow me to introduce myself: Alfred von Tönisvorst. It's a stupid name, I know."

Herbert chuckled. "Well, there are worse. I always must laugh when I hear 'Schaumburg-Lippe'. Those images in my mind..." (A/N: Schaumburg-Lippe is an old aristocratic name in Germany. Literally translated it means: Foamcastle-lip)

Alfred joined in Herbert's chuckling. He never thought about the German free state like that. It confirmed his guess that it could be amusing to be around Herbert.

"Would you have inherited the manor?" came Herbert's next question once their laughter had calmed.

Alfred smirked. Why couldn't Herbert just ask directly if he had siblings? "No, I have an elder brother, besides one elder and two younger sisters. Wilhelm, Friederike, Erika, and Leonarda. In case you want to know. Actually, I was happy about it. My brother had to undergo military education while I was left to my own studies. My father would have preferred me to study law, but he didn't kept me from studying natural science, either. And you?" he queried back.

Herbert shook his head. "No siblings born alive or living longer than some weeks. Father would have loved to have more children. But the last stillborn child also claimed my mother's life. Father never took another wife; he had loved my mother deeply. I was thirteen back then," he added.

Alfred nodded sympathetically. Life had spared him from such calamities, except for death of his grandmother, whom he had loved dearly. "When did this happen? I mean – how old are you?"

"I'm 19. For 288 years."

Alfred laughed out loud, amazed and impressed at once. What an age! Almost 300 years – at least as a vampire. In total, it were more than 300 years. And still he looked so young and delicate - it was intriguing.

"How old are you?"

"21. Still." They both grinned.

"How did you get to Königsberg? Wouldn't Cologne have been the bigger university and much nearer to your family?"

"That actually was the trigger – I mean, the University of Cologne. My father was friendly with a professor there, who held a chair in natural science, but then moved on to Königsberg. When I had decided on natural sciences my father had written to this friend and asked admittance for me. So I came to Königsberg, far away from home. I didn't mind though – it was an adventure. Unfortunately, Father's friend died shortly after my arrival in an accident with a horse-cart and so I came into the lectures of Professor Abronsius – the one who took your father."

Herbert, who had listened interestedly, looked down again. Alfred felt new compassion for him – and was glad for this tiny bit of emotion. Whenever speech came to the count and his current situation, Herbert collapsed inwardly. Quickly, Alfred switched over to Herbert's coffin lid and sat down beside him, taking him into his arms. The Count's son cuddled closer at once.

"I really hope you know this Professor as well as you say," he whispered.

Alfred started to stroke Herbert's silky hair and murmured comforting words. Herbert decided that he had learned enough about Alfred for one night and just enjoyed the embrace. Slowly, he calmed down and his troubled mind relaxed. And just as he dozed away, he sensed it. This presence that was so familiar to him. Startled, he sat up, drawing his mind back into alertness.

"What is it?" Alfred asked, confused, as Herbert yanked out of his embrace rudely. He sat bolt upright and his wide open eyes stared at the wagon-wall.

"Be quiet!" he almost hissed and Alfred observed how the look in Herbert's eyes turned from surprised into a strange emptiness. What could this mean?

Herbert, cursing his jumpiness, sent his mind away again, controlled this time. The train was full of people, all unfamiliar minds to him. But there, far away from their own wagon, he found what he was looking for.

Alfred looked at Herbert, concerned. Tears ran down the noble's cheek, out of these scary, blank eyes. One of Herbert's hand clenched his painfully hard. What should he do?

While his body was shedding tears of joy, Herbert softly intruded this familiar mind. The mind was asleep, as centuries of experience told him. But he knew how to wake it. Softly he called: "Father!"

TBC