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Thisstory was first posted chapter by chapter in August and September 2001; it wasgreatly revised for the print run in 2004, but I decided to leave the originalstory online.
Theoriginal intro to this story: ÒIt looks like my vampires from PŽrigueux did notwant to stay in their coffins. They're back for a blood-splattering adventure.A misguided apprentice sorcerer summons a horror from the collectiveunconscious, and Michael and Tadeus end up trying to get rid of it.Ó
InJanuray 2002, the first installment of this 2001 version was published on Artof Horror (http://www.artofhorror.com,the site then moved and did not keep this story), an online horror magazine.Just follow the links for the story titled "Peril in Perigord." It'san honour to be published among such talent and imagination.
Thereare still printed copies available, with fun covers and tiny graphics inside:see the homepage for purchase details.
A middle-aged man was sneakingdown sodium-lit streets with a lumpy bag, almost alone in the quietest hourbefore sunrise. Sparsely dotting the streets were a few after-hours stragglers,and a dark-clad figure following the man at a distance, curious but careful toremain unnoticed. While other people were dawdling on their way home, the one withthe chinking bag pursued a specific goal. He often looking up at stars in themoonless sky and comparing his progress with a folded map. He seemed satisfied,finding some meaningful pattern in haphazard alignments. Lines had been drawnon the map, connecting various features of the area - fossil sites, Romanruins, hilltops - to several points in the historical part of Basel: the oldcathedral, battlement towers, church spires, all of which shot over the lowskyline of the city.
The dark figure had spotted theconspirator the previous night, taking measurements, and became very curious.He trailed at a discrete distance, glancing up now and then at the sky to tryand figure out what was making the young man so happy. He had seen the same skyfor ages and from any number of vantage points on earth, and still could notidentify any unusual alignment.
The intriguing man reached thefinal point of one of the lines drawn on his map: a medieval tower gate. It wasa square tower that used to be part of the fortifications, guarded at eachcorner by four crenelated turrets; its tall pointed roof was tiled in the samepattern as the oldest cathedral. Streetcar rails ran through its wide opening.He checked he was unobserved, his pursuer reacting quickly and flatteninghimself against a doorway. He forced open a door on one side of the tower andclimbed rickety steps four floors up to the highest level of the tower. Therewas only one room, and nothing but rafters filling the pointed roof.
The man, kneeling in the middle ofthe room, opened his bag and pulled out chalk and a vast number of tea candles,and traced a circle with symbols around him on the floor. He then delicatelyextracted four jam jars, filled with different materials. The silent figurelurking on the floor underneath was enjoying his discovery: he had stumbledupon a deluded apprentice sorcerer. His curiosity was rewarded with an excitingprivate meal where he could play with his food. He didnt usually play games forblood, but the scene was irresistible. He took out a fine silver stiletto,anticipating the shock on the young man's face when a vampire would answer hissummons.
The young magician drew the jarsclose to him. He lighted the candles and recited an invocation of catalytic andtransfiguring fire. As he unscrewed each jar, he named his offerings as part ofthe incantation: quicksilver, salt, earth and blood.
The moment blood was offered, thevampire in the stairs rose in all his somber glory, barely refraining fromlaughing. Campier than movie vampires, he stepped into the room his arms andlong fingers outstretched so the flickering candlelight would project his bestmenacing poses on the amber-shaded walls. His stiletto, held between his thumband index, shone in the flickering candlelight. The effect was sublime, but thesurprise was the vampires: his victim showed no trace of fear. As the attackerclosed in on the circle, the contents of the jars exploded into braziers. Thevampire tried plunging on his prey, but he couldn't reach inside the chalkcircle. Something was blocking him. The man, barely paying attention to thefiend raging a few feet away, raised his head expectedly. As if in answer aflash of lightning exploded from the ceiling and filled the room like ahissing, crackling blue sun. The light-sensitive vampire was completelyoverwhelmed by the awful brightness. He threw himself to the ground, protectinghis face and skin from the blinding electric light. He heard a deafening sound,like a comet crashing, and felt the fabric of reality warp from the force ofthe crash.
Sudden silence dropped as the roomdarkened, the candle flames smothered. The conjuror, either dead orunconscious, was not alone in his circle. Through bright spots from theexplosion dancing in front of his eyes, the vampire could distinguish a twistedcreature next to the collapsed sorcerer. As his eyes slowly readjusted to thedimness, he could make out parts of the creature, a mix of frillneck lizard androoster. It was shaking its head, also blinded by the explosion and trying todispel the dancing lights from its eyes.
The vampires stomach heaved inrevulsion at the sight of the hell-borne beast, recognizing it from signsplastered all across town. He jumped down the hole in the floor and fled fromthe tower. The noise as he tripped down the stairs attracted the thingsattention. It tried following him, its short squat talons unable to descend thestairs as fast as him. The last thing the vampire heard was the creature tryingto talk, its lipless mouth repeating "mh! ah!
The next day, all dailies inBasel, whatever their language, were splattered with grotesque pictures of deadfaces and contorted bodies. Tabloids emphasized the fact that one body wasfound in the setting of a black mass in Spalentor gate. Seven other corpseswere found, petrified in such terror that they seemed suspended in hell ratherthan dead. The creature was still roaming the streets, and its spree ofdestruction was at no end: over the next few days, deaths multiplied. Newspaperswere decrying the calamity, calling it a new plague, sparing no detail indescribing the mortified and wretched bodies found every morning. Daylight wasa slight reprieve: the body count slowed down, most people collapsing atnighttime. People were hysterical, fearing a new super bug or terrorist gasattack.
To make sure he was safe duringdaytime, the vampire constantly changed hotels. He managed to stay clear of thebasilisk, but it remained forever on his heals, and the deaths were always inhis vicinity. During those harrowing days of trying to shake off the creature,he started taking more risks than usual. He broke into several bookshops thoseunlikely to have camera surveillance and pilfered the shelves for books aboutalchemy or the citys mythical mascot. He sped read through them and discardedthe volumes the next day.
He memorized everything he foundon the subject; the books mentioned the cockatrices fulgurating glare, its rolein the transfiguration of matter, but despairingly little about dispatching themythical beast. Even on the subject of summoning it the books were mute, whichwas a shame: a creature summoned can be un-summoned with a similar incantation.The vampire suspected that the creature must have morphed into existence from amixture of belief, collective unconscious and beginners luck.
The vampire was the only one whohad seen the thing, which probably explained why he was alive: locking his eyeson it first, according to the books, nullified its venomous glare. He found nocomfort in his success, spending all his energy hiding from it, and researchingalchemy and bestiaries. Leaving the city would give him temporary reprieve, butonly until the basilisk homed in on him again, like a baby to his mother.
In the end, he had to admit hecould not shake the creature on his own, and he was running out of places tohide. His only pair of eyes might one day fail him, and he would drop like theother victims. He considered his options. He had no friends among thetownspeople, but there was one person he could think of. Not a strong being,but someone he could easily impose on. He had learned through contacts somemonths ago that this young man was roaming about in France, and this was theperfect occasion to pay him a little fatherly visit. The vampire Tadeus packedhis suitcases and called his involuntary host to announce his arrival. The calllasted ages, and immediately after hanging up, cold sweat was drenching the pitof his stomach. He ran to the closest bus, and transferred between buses andstreetcars all night. Passport in hand, he rushed to the train station at thelast minute and bought his ticket. He sighed in relief: he had lost thebasilisk with all his zigzagging, and it did not have time to jump on the trainwith him.
Earlier that night, in the FrenchMassif Central, a young man was slumping despairingly under the full moon,fiddling with a sealed envelope. He was overdressed for the mild springtemperature, a fedora hat pulled down and a thick scarf wrapped from his noseto his shoulders. Passersby did not stare: theyd been seeing the strange man atthis post since Autumn. As usual, he was focusing on the red and orange etchedstamps, his gaze regularly glazing over in sadness and regret. The rumpledenvelope was yellowed with fingerprints from having been handled so long.Beside his bench was a forged iron mailbox, but he was perpetually unable toreach out and post the letter. He was handling it like a piece of bad news hecouldn't bare to send.
After a while, his sagging postureinfused with resignation and routine, he stood up. He placed the crumpledenvelope in his coat where it stiffened the lapel, and dragged himself awayfrom the mailbox.
He walked along the wide downtownstreets, constantly re-adjusting his scarf. He looked slightly more determined,hunting for something. When he spotted a lone pedestrian, he quickly hid scarf,hat and coat, and pulled a dark ski mask and swim cap over his head. He closedin on the isolated walker, chosen by unlucky circumstances to be a vampire'semergency lunch, knocked her unconscious before she could scream or see herattacker. He pulled his victim in a dark alley, pulled out a sharp blade andmade a deep, paper-thin cut in the fingertips. He was always hungry, never drawingenough blood in any one sitting, ever wary about surrendering to a hunger thatrevolted him. After sucking as much blood as he could out of the fingers, herested his victim against a wall, took some Francs from her wallet, andreturned to get his clothing and go home.
He reached a little boardinghouse, where he had settled after nearly two months cowering in the areas manypre-historical caves. The room provided safe shade from daylight, and allowedmore discretion than inhabiting tourist attractions. And though the lodger inthe den was strange and gossip-worthy, the landlord respected the privacy of ayoung man who lost his voice in a disfiguring accident. The young man passedhimself for a writer a perfect fit for his emaciated bohemian looks, and a goodalibi for coming out only at night. For the past six months, the lodger in theden would drape himself like a leper, go out and fiddle with his envelope,pocket it back, go for a walk and come back to consume large amounts of paper.Having little else to do, the young man did indeed start writing, his liebecoming self-fulfilling out of boredom, and he sent one unsuccessful storyafter another. The landlord, in sympathy, would sometimes offer his starvingartist some fresh fruit and fois gras. The young man had been similarly adoptedby his neighbours. The cozy darkened den seemed like the perfect place to hidefrom life.
One evening, as he returned hometo find the landlord waiting for him, visibly worried. "Telephone,venez," he said, adding that the caller refused to leave a message. Hetook the receiver and cleared his throat in it. "Michael?" asked thevoice on the telephone, sounding like a nightmare come back to haunt him in daylife. "Darn you, Michael, what took you so long? raged an irate voice, thesound of a nightmare come to haunt him. I've been told you can't speak, so I'lljust tell you this: be at the train station tomorrow night. Bring mirrors. Anddon't think you can lose me: I know who you are and where your family is."
Helpless and anxious, Michael wasshaking when he hung up the receiver. The landlord was about to ask about thebad news, but Michael just nodded he would be okay. Michael's first reactionwas to pack his bags, and he was ready to leave town within seconds. He was wonderinghow far he could go without a passport. Then a second panic fell on him:Tadeus, the voice from (literally) beyond the grave had discovered he wasalive, running away would probably only aggravate matters. So Michael sat onthe bed, eyes fixed on the mirror on the wall, tensely waiting for the nextevening.
The call yanked Michael out of hissix-month hibernation. After these months of slow healing since histransformation into a vampire, his neck was still a shapeless rag of reddishbumps and scars. He doubted he would ever look better without intensivereconstructive surgery, and he hated going out in public, for fear of beingidentified as the disappeared tourist or, worse, as the Perigueux nightstalker. A manhunt was the last thing Michael the dead Canadian without papersneeded. The police had seized everything in his room, and fear of scrutinyprevented Michael from making himself known to authorities.
Upon stepping inside thebrightly-lit train station, Michael immediately saw that the dreadful call hadnot been a nightmare: the creator of his wretched unlife was indeed back intown. Michael, fearing a trap or some fiendish game developed by the oldvampire, advanced carefully. Tadeus walked directly toward his progeny,throwing his arms wide like an old friend. The hug was stiff, though, aformality acted out for appearances as much as for checking that Michael wasindeed concealing a mirror under his large coat. Michael wanted to run awayfrom the stranglehold.
Tadeus returned to the benches toget his suitcases, an expensive set of red vinyl hard cases. He threw one inMichaels arms and, carrying the bigger one, dragged his unwilling host out tothe streets. He walked at a brisk pace, whispering instructions to hiscompanion-in-arms. Look at ground level, all around. Its small, with scales,feathers and a long tail. You see anything looking remotely like that, use themirror as a shield. It will try to follow me, but I dont think it was on thesame train.
Michael, towed by Tadeus andholding a mirror, wished he could tell unwelcome fiend to get lost. Here wasthe fearless vampire, commanding an improvised one-man militia and orderingMichael to bring him to his home. Tired and bruised from the strong handhold,Michael resisted. He braked, his leg grabbing a tree until Tadeus let him go.Tadeus shot him an impatient glare. Michael, on the verge of hitting hispersecutor, was shouting raspy sounds, finally calming down enough to pull anotepad from his coat. The look in his eyes conveyed a full-blown accusation, afurious how dare you ruin my life and then waltz back in demanding obedience.
Pen in hand, Michael scribbled hisquestion: Why are you here? Tadeus ignored the question, asking they were goingto reach his room tonight. Michael, exasperated, led the way to his home. Oncein his spartan lodging, however, Michael bombarded Tadeus with the samequestions, sending pages and pages flying around the older vampire so he couldnot ignore them. What are we hiding from. Why the mirror. Why are you here.Annoyance finally broke Tadeuss silence, and he painted in broad, angry strokeswhat happened in Basel. Michael stared in growing disbelief, until Tadeuspointed out that a year ago, Michael did not even believe in vampires. Touch.And a year ago, Michael thought, he never realized movies about arrogant evilvampires were true. Michael was slowly switching to more practicalconsiderations. What about the people dying in Switzerland? The answer was asterse and dispassionate as could be expected from a man who ruined a touristslife out of boredom: We have mirrors.
Can it be killed? Tadeus scoffed.If I could kill it, do you think a seasoned vampire like me would be here, withsomeone to hold an extra mirror? Ask any exorcist or vampire hunter about theirsuccess rate. Then Tadeus seemed much more serious. Youre inexperienced. Youhide behind a scarf in the town where you died, and still you are surprisedwhen I find you. He was clearly uncomfortable with this fatherly tone. He brokethe mirror in two, and announced he was going outside. Dont lock the door, Imtaking a late lunch.
Michael, finally freed from theintimidating presence of Tadeus, was trying to come up with a plan. Hesuspected Tadeus gave up too fast, and would need a lot of convincing to returnto Basel, but Michael was inspired and forced the clasps on Tadeuss suitcases.Rummaging through the clothing, he found a perfect bargaining chip: a passport.Or rather, a full array of passports, ID cards and drivers licenses, the paperstill smelling fresh. Michael took all but one set, stuffed them in an envelopeand quickly rushed to mail them to himself. The trick was to get Tadeus, afteran unavoidable explosion of furor, to leave PŽrigueux before the envelope wasdelivered.
Early the next evening, anoverdressed man with a vinyl suitcase and an enormous hockey bag hailed a taxifrom the Basel train station. He looked tired, but as the light grew dimmer, hebecame more comfortable, taking off his stifling hat and gloves. He was droppedoff at the Dreieck hotel, which stood at the intersection of France, Germanyand Switzerland. Once in his room, Tadeus unlocked and unzipped the hockey bag.A whiff of stale air exhaled from the sack as clothing flew out and Michaelextirpated himself out.
The pair armed themselves withbathroom and commode mirrors, their nerves on edge, hoping the mirrors were bigenough for the basilisk to see itself and strike itself dead. The basiliskhunters wandered like Geiger counters up and down small alleys where thecreature could hide, expecting the killer behind every corner. The basilisk wasstill in town wrecking its destruction, the epidemic making the headlines ofall newspapers. Reports remarked on the strange nature of the disease, spreadinglike a dance macabre, zigzagging across town rather than rippling inever-widening circles. Tadeus persistently repeated a formula: "If you seeit first, you neutralize its power. " Michael, eyes riven to the ground,mourned for the luckless victims, inspired for a new plan. How hard could it beto make the citizens of Basel suspend their disbelief and watch where they puttheir feet? The town was, after all, plastered with emblematic basilisks: overradio stations, garages, stores.
Tadeus, in the meantime, washungry again, and dragged Michael into a dance club. French and German wereblending in the blaring jungle beat. Tadeus approached a tall, relaxed-lookingblonde and soon completely mesmerized her. He kissed her hand for what seemedlike an eternity. Michael heard a faint sucking, but no one, least of all thehappy, smiling blonde, noticed anything out of the ordinary. Was she ever goingto wonder how she got hurt, thought Michael, remembering how several hours ofconfused banter had clouded his mind when Tadeus had leeched the life out ofhim. He suddenly had the woman's hand in his face. She was blissfully unawareher wrist had become a blood bank, clear ruby drops pearling from ascratch-like bite. "You'll need it," whispered Tadeus, prodding the armcloser to Michael's mouth. Michael, disgusted, went outside, huddling with themirror under his coat and his breath condensing in the breezy night.
He didn't dare adventure beyondthe wide commercial street, but absorbed as much of the city as he couldperceive. Planes were flying low, approaching the airport on the French side.Noise from streetcars and the port added to the citys distinctive hum. Not astone seemed out of place. The university town seemed built with T squares andplumbing lines: even old masonry and cobbled streets were smooth and planar.Several buildings, among which throned a medieval cathedral, had patternedroofing. Nature was held at a civilized distance, little flower beds and shrubssegregated by heavy stone barriers. One pine tree stood alone in the middle ofthe market place, chocked by cobblestones. Fountains were unusual, with statuesresting atop tall pillars. Here Neptune, here Doctor Hoffman. Most fountainpillars were painted in bright colors, like Swiss guards standing ten feet tallwith their feet wet. Michael ached for his old life, wondering if hed ever seethe daylight face of any place hed visit.
He got out for the way for thetram, its passengers slumping tiredly on the benches. The car stopped, peoplegetting off. Michael heard shouts, then screeching wheels as the streetcarspeeded up. He saw twisted corpses on the ground, and a small reptilian crestmoving behind them. He refrained from shouting, afraid of drawing attention tohimself. He backed toward the club silently, holding out the mirror. Michaelentrusted his life to the advice Tadeus gave him: he stared intently at thebasilisk as it emerged. The creature had either spotted Michael and wasnarrowing on him, or it was aiming straight for Tadeus inside the club.
Michael summoned all his willpowernot to blink: he saw a barely visible amber light strike out of the basiliskseyes as people walked out of the club. People dropped in the street before theyeven noticed the killer. Shouts of panic resounded behind Michael, and clubbersstarted rushing out, increasing the casualties. The creatures poisonous glareinstantly froze its victims into an eternal blaze of pain and horror.
Inside the club, absolute chaos.The outpouring crowd reversed its flow, terrorized by the pestilent body countat the front door. Some were trampled to death, losing their balance in thereceding wave. Disco lights flashed over the tightly packed dance floor, whereoverturned tables, benches and railings were hampering peoples escape. Tadeuscowered behind a bar, waiting for Michael and the second mirror. He heard ashrill shriek: the basilisk was inside, panicking like a baby who lost sight ofits mama. People were dropping in a surreal choreography, tripping over theslaughtered and not getting up. The basilisk was slowed down, strutting aroundthe countless dead on little chicken legs. The club was growing quieter aspeople either succumbed or succeeded in escaping. The music died, no DJsreplacing records on the turning tables.
Michael, eyes locked resolutely onthe creature, finally reached Tadeus who was calling his name. They formed abigger shield with their two mirrors and scuttled out. They could hear policesirens blaring. The two vampires, crouching behind their mirrors, ran backwardsuntil they heard a streetcar. They jumped aboard, telling the conductor to keepgoing. The driver saw the bodies heaped in the street and accelerated, corpseson the tracks pushed out of the way in heavy thuds. Michael and Tadeus keptstaring behind them until the car turned a corner. Only then did they sigh inrelief: with their advance they could reach temporary safety and plan a betterattack.
Shaking uncontrollably from thenarrowness of their escape, Michael and Tadeus locked themselves in their hotelroom, blocking the windows with mattresses. Now that Michael had seen thebasilisk in action, he no longer doubted that it could dispose of even thestrongest vampire. Sustaining its stare had required near- inhuman energy andwillpower. The bad news was that if the basilisk had seen its reflection in themirrors, it was still healthy and roaming: so much for the hunters first plan.The two vampires instincts yanked for them to flee out of the country and offthe continent - and leave the basilisk to wander like a lost dog in search ofits master, no matter how criminal that sounded. They kept watching the doorand windows until, completely exhausted, they each in turn slumped beside thebed, their mirrors resting next to them on the floor.
By the next evening, Michaelsfrantic imagination had hatched a plan to reduce number of casualties. Hewanted to apply his stratagem quickly, before the creature could sniff outtheir hotel room. He ran to the lobby and came back with newspapers, theirheadlines exclusively devoted to the epidemics highest toll. Michael ripped theaddress pages of the papers. He lugged Tadeus out into the streets, stillbeating out his plan in such feverish concentration that he did not realize howfurious his creator was to be dragged like a child. He grabbed his mirror onthe way out, and a map left on the night table. Michael consulted the mapbriefly, then ran down to the river and the industrial area, making a bigdetour around the club, whose area was quarantined. Fear of contagion shut downthat part of town, even though people realized the dance macabre would havemoved on to another area the next day.
They found one of the newspaperoffices, and Michael walked around the building, spotting the lighted offices. Heran to a door, gesturing to Tadeus to force the lock. Oh, like I know how to dothat! exclaimed the vampire, annoyed at finding himself curious about Michaelsmysterious plan. He broke the window glass and hopped inside, waiting for thesecurity guard and hypnotizing him. Michael followed in, but soon took the leadagain, unable to tell his involuntary guide to take them to the newsroom. Hefinally found an open space buzzing with reporters and editors rushing againsttheir deadline. Michael crouched past the newsroom toward an empty office andswitched on the computer. Tadeus and the guard sat with him in the dark office,and while Michael typed energetically he tried his best to ignore the faintsipping sound coming from the corner. Michael was composing as fast as hecould, saving the text to a disc the moment it satisfied him. He signaled tohis companion that he was returning to the hubbub. They crouched behind desks,and Michael quickly jotted down a request: he needed to get to a computer, andpointed to a worker who seemed involved with layout rather than text. Tadeusstarted to understand. Preferring not to control two people at the same time,he knocked the guard unconscious and led the crawl to the man inserting thelast articles into their planned spaces. When they reached their target, theTadeus relaxed into a chair and started chatting with the worker. Michaelcrouched to the front of the desk and inserted his diskette, cutting andpasting his text over an article. When Michael was done, Tadeus encouraged theeditor to forward the section to the presses. They crawled back out of the roomand out of the building. On the way, Tadeus carried the unconscious guard tothe washroom and dropped him on the floor.
Before the end of the night, theyhad time to infiltrate two other newspapers, pasting the same text as close tothe front page as possible. The amateurish results would betray their lack ofplanning, but the English text would stand out in the German and French papers,hopefully drawing readers attention to it. Michael could hardly wait for thenext day.
"NEW RESIDENTIAL DEVELOPMENTIN THE HEART OF BASEL. WIN A CONDO ON THE NEW BASILISK ESTATES. SPOT OUR MASCOTIN THE STREETS AND CALL IN THE TIME AND LOCATION TO ENTER OUR DRAW. MUST BEADULT TO ENTER."
Michael only saw the printedarticles the next night, but the commotion was still on everyones lips in theearly hours of the evening. The three newspapers denied any involvement,several levels of bureaucracy declaring the article a hoax. Still, some readerswould nonetheless be looking just in case for a disguised pet, while othersmight wonder if a basilisk may have started the epidemic. An undeniablebreakthrough: Basel citizens, no matter what their reason, were looking for thetown mascot. If any one sighted the basilisk, it was not only one less soulsuccumbing to the plague, but also one witness to encourage further belief inthe creature. Michael was happy to hear late night news reporting on crazieswho had spotted the basilisk. Tadeus, more pessimistic, had risen earlier tobuy extra mirrors, knives, and two flashlights.
Fighting their ingrained instinctto run away, the vampiric army focused again on the hunt. This time theycarried Tadeuss larger mirrors, covered in heavy hotel linen. Knives in theirpockets, they bravely shone the flashlights into dark corners. Tadeus suspectedthe creature would be emboldened and roam around when the streets were emptier.Trying not to feel like live bait, he muttered continuously, sometimes tohimself and sometimes to Michael. The basilisk never far from the subject,Tadeus started comparing Spalentor, where the beast had materialized, to analchemical oven, its steeple receiving and condensing cosmic energy for thetransfiguration, over which basilisks are said to preside.
Tadeus was nervous about one possible complication: Michaelhad not sipped a single drop in the two days since their departure fromPerigueux, and worse still had been underfeeding since his transformation almosta year previous. Based on the chaos at the club the other night, Michael wouldneed more energy. Tadeus insisted Michael ate: the risk of his only soldierfainting as he confronted the basilisk was too great. The vampires took thetram to the port. Tadeus, on his first visit to Basel, had delected in severaldiscrete meals in the the nearly deserted industrial area of the port, anddirected Michael there. He waited until a car drove by: then, before Michaelcould even react, Tadeus pushed him in front of the vehicle. The driver, anight guardian, braked and hurried to the stumbled man. Old trick, it did work.When the guard was over Michael, Tadeus knocked him down. He punctured the armwith a knife, grabbed Michaels head and forced the bleeding wound to Michaelslips. Michael was choking on the sweet warm goo. His famished body avidlyguzzled the warm blood down, but an equal and opposite reaction made Michaelwant to spit out, throw up, run away from this immoral feast. He felt lesshuman, and resented the sense of well-being as the blood, like soup, warmed hiscold ribs and limbs. When Michael was unable to swallow any more, Tadeus pulledthe guard into the car, safe from the ground-level stare of the basilisk. Hedragged Michael away before anyone else drove by.
The quiet panic engulfing Baselleft the city an eerie and empty playground. Streets were unnaturally peaceful,like a park with swings swaying in the wind, creaking without any childrenflying back and forth on the seats. Some of the more outlandish monuments, someenormous mechanical devices erected from junk on the riverbank, created aninfernal atmosphere. A face in the wall was frozen in mid-grimace, an ancientclockwork mechanism that used to stick its tongue out at a rival city. Baselhad become quite surreal, with two mythical creatures of the night carryingblankets and mirrors, pursuing an alchemical nightmare that littered the citywith writhed corpses.
Tadeus was growing quieter. Hehated the butterflies in his stomach. Returning to Basel was a bad judgmentcall. The plan would never work: assuming they captured the basilisk, couldthey kill it with their knives? Michael unknowingly shared Tadeuss misgivings:he wanted to stay clear of the ambulatory blight on chicken legs, convinced onecurse per life was enough.
After a fruitless night ofhunting, the vampires returned to their hotel, where they stumbled upon awomans body. The terrifying plague that killed her had twisted her muscles tosuch a point that an entire scene of Dantes Inferno seemed etched in the moundof limbs. The vampires swore, their eyes widening in distress: the whole night,the basilisk had been waiting for Tadeus at the hotel.
The vampires stepped carefullyaround the dead woman lumped on the sidewalk, their mirrors unwrapped. Tadeuswas holding the mirrors. Huddled beside him, behind the reflective shields,Michael was holding out the opaque blankets like the veil of an oldplate-photography camera. They stood still for a few brief seconds, zeroing inon a distinctive clicking against the pavement: the creature was only a fewfeet away around the corner.
The clicking talons, the faintnoise resounding in two nervous minds like gunshots, synchronized the hunters.Tadeus leapt around the corner shouting like a berserker. Michael extended theblankets in front of him like a fishing net, ducking behind it to remainunseen. He jumped in front of the mirrors and rushed blindly until he trippedover the basilisk, whose little legs were no match for two running madmen atsuch close quarters. Michael quickly dropped the blankets over it andvigorously scrambled to wrap it. The initial plan was to stab the capturedbasilisk, but both vampires were overcome with the fear that their catch wouldescape through rips in the fabric. Michael pinned the bundle on the pavementand Tadeus pounced on it, wrestling-style. The basilisk was shrieking like abattered child, barely muffled by the blankets. It was twisting and turninginside its cloth prison, but the blankets were wound so tightly that the talonsand beak lacked leeway to tear at the fabric. The pounding knocked some fightout of the creature, but they did not manage to crush it to death.
Windows were lighting up: Michaeland Tadeus had to move out before residents alerted the police. Michael startedrunning back to the hotel, gripping the bundle so strongly his wrists whitened.He ran without looking back, hoping Tadeus would follow; he certainly would notput the basilisk down to write or mime a message. He was relieved when hereached the hotel and saw Tadeuss arm reach out from behind him to push thedoor open. They ran across the lobby without stopping, clients and staffscandalized at the commotion. As he ran up the stairs, Michael noticed theraspy breathing inside the blankets: the thing was suffocating the lack offresh air thankfully muffling its protests much more efficiently than theblankets. Climbing the steps four by four, Michael started hitting his bundleblue and black, and crashing it into the stairwell wall. He wanted to finish itoff, but it was still conscious when he reached his floor.
Tadeus, unburdened, had passed himon the way up and had unlocked the door. An unusual panic had transformed hiscool impassive face, and sweat was dripping down from his temples. Michaeldarted into the room and warbled incomprehensively, pointing at Tadeuss vinylred suitcase with his foot. Tadeus guessed what he meant; he quickly opened thesuitcase and threw its contents on the floor. Michael stuck his bundle in the openred maw and slammed the case shut. He sat with all his weight on the suitcaseas Tadeus frantically scrounged for the key. Hands trembling, he locked thehard case shut.
Neither of them could breatheeasy: the basilisk was still shrieking, though with dimished energy, and thehotel manager was knocking at the door demanding explanations: First itsmattresses all over the room, and now this! he was shouting indignantly. Tadeustook the mattresses from the windows and placed them back on the bed, and pushedMichael and the suitcase out onto the window ledge, closing the window andcurtains behind him so he could let the manager in. Michael, out in the coldwind, leaned his back against the wall, holding the twitching suitcase as closeto him as possible.
Once Tadeus had assuaged all ofthe hotel managers fears, and promised that they would vacate the premises bymorning, he ran to the window and caught Michael by the arm, pulling him insidefrom his perilous balance. The red suitcase was jumping in Michaels arms.Tadeus, his nerves strung as tight as catgut on a viola, went to the lobby andreturned with a pack of cigarettes. He seemed hardened again, though the handholding the cigarette was faintly trembling. He was telling Michael to pack up andbe ready to move in daylight. He kept an eye on the hard red vinyl case, madeto withstand the direst handling in airports and cargo bays.
The basilisks anxious guardsbarely slept, disturbed by the struggling sounds in the luggage. In themorning, Tadeus rented a car. By now he was planning all the moves, and Michaelshuddered as he noticed how naturally Tadeus was executing his plan, actingwith practiced ease. They would drive to a port; from there, they would be oneboat ride and one cement cube away from freedom and peace of mind. Michaelwould travel outside the hockey bag, so he would keep the suitcase in check.Michael would only have to hide when they crossed the border. Better thanleaving the basilisk unobserved for several hours in the luggage compartment ona train ore a plane.
They zipped north, the closestdirect highway access to the ocean, from Basel into France, through Dijon, upto Paris, and all the way up to the Norman countryside and to the Channel Portof Le Havre. The agony was unbearable; their wailing captive a muffled siren.Tadeus and Michael took turns driving, veiling as much skin as possible, theother buried away from the bright sunlight under blankets on the back seat. Thebasilisk was strapped in the trunk, and the vinyl case, built to withstandairport handling, was still holding. They saw little of the scenery,concentrating on driving under unendurable bright light, their nerves abradedby tirednessand by the basilisks scratching.
When they reached the Seineestuary at Le Havre, Tadeus hunted for a sea-going boat, and found among thehuge commercial ships and oil tankers floating in the port a fishing boat whosecaptain he had soon, with his unfailing charm, convinced to take them west intothe Atlantic. The two vampires left the car in long-term parking, and slept onthe boat, their mattresses piled over the suitcase. After a few hours, Tadeuswas up, muscles taut, and gone to find cement bags among the port warehouses.When he returned, Michael was awake. The captain was as oblivious as the youngwoman in Basel, and Michael suspected Tadeus had already tested the seafaringmenu. The captain unmoored his vessel and navigated through the Channel andsouth and east into the Atlantic ocean. The first day at sea, Tadeus and Michaelwere busy in the hull, mixing the cement in a heavy cardboard box. Tadeusdropped the bright red suitcase into the dark grey mixture and pushed it down,the dense goo completely muffling the wailing.
The fishing boat, aside fromcontact with passing ships and the chugging engine, was quiet. Tadeus did notspeak, aside from whispered directions to the captain, and Michael did notbother taking out pen and paper. Both knew what needed being done and focusedtheir minds on these welcome buoys of certainty. The cement was slowly drying,and the captain was governing the boat. Just before they neared the AtlanticRidge, Michael felt an atmospheric depression weigh down on him, affecting.When he closed his eyes to steady his mind and nerves, he could almost hear thewaves crying out like prisoners wanting mercy, pleading for freedom. He wasstartled by TadeusÕs first words: We drop it here.
He and Michael hauled the heavycement cube onto the deck and flipped the heavy mass into the waves. Michaelknew the area was among the deepest in the Atlantic. Finding similarities withthe game ker-plunk, where you hoped your quarter would hop down to the jackpotslot, he wished the jackpot would be a deep abyss from where the basilisk couldnever return.
After the drop, Tadeus wasexhausted from the effort of keeping the captain in the dark, withoutinterruption, for so many days. The captain didnt recall any heavy box throwninto the sea, and now that all traces of their captive were drowned into thewaves, Tadeus gladly let his hold on the captain fade. The two passengersbecame simple tourists, relaxing on vacation, sleeeping their stress all dayand lounging under the star and moon light as the ship returned to its port.When they reached land, Tadeus compensated the captain for his several days oflost fishing. Then he pulled Michael to the car, his face impassible again, andMichael knew they were going to Perigueux to get Tadeuss papers and luggage.
Michael was thinking about hislife. He was homesick, and did not enjoy the idea of living in hiding, of lyinglow, of being hungry and having to steal money for the rest of his eternity. Heneeded help, and hated knowing that the only source of aid available to him fornow was his creator. He spent the whole trip building arguments to convinceTadeus to at least give him some money and a way to get home.
He still had no idea how to broachthe subject when they drove into Perigueux. Writing down his arguments wouldamount to nothing: his pleas required the direct confrontation. He gave Tadeushis papers, slipping in a note asking if he could have one for his own use.Trying to keep Tadeus long enough for him to find the note, he invited him tosleep in his room. He was waiting for an opening, but Tadeus had retreated to alofty life-weariness that did not allow for gratitude or compassion.
Tadeus soon fell asleep, or atleast faked sleep. Michael was unable to lie down. What he had experienced inBasel rocked his world, adding to the shock of turning into a vampire. For 24mundane years, Michael had believed monsters were celluloid and pulp inventionsto scare the weak at heart. Now, after eight months of thin living from otherpeoples blood, he had helped get rid of a basilisk. Restless, he startedtyping, trying to write the first chapter to the next Robert Harris. When theadrenaline wore off, he fell asleep hunched over his typewriter and severalscrunched sheets.
When Michael woke up the nextevening, Tadeus was gone, and so was the rental car. He was sinking in despair,when he noticed a book sticking from behind a suitcase next to the door. It wasa black vinyl case, as solid as the basilisks prison. He picked up the book andcase and brought them under the light. The case was heavy, filled with clean clothing,and, to Michaels delight, more than he had dared ask: in addition to apassport, Tadeus had indicated where he could get his photo inside thepassport. Michael also found a bank notebook, which he hoped was to the name ofthe man whose passport he now carried.
When finally the marvel of thepassport and money wore off, he looked at the book. He smiled. He saw Tadeusunder a new light, and smiled.
The book was called: Mesmerism:method and practice.
Contrary to light bulbs, writersdo not work in a vaccuum, and therefore heartfelt thanks are due to severalpeople. To Evelyne, to whom the Fates sent me after the first story, for herhappy enthusiam and Perigord knowledge; to Michel for help with newspaperdeadlines and vocabulary; to Johane for not only bearing with my jokes, butteaching me a few extra; and to many, many other friends and co-workers whonodded and smiled and took my website address to read the story for themselves.Thank you all.
This version was first postedchapter by chapter in August and September 2001. © Saskia Latendresse 2001-2006
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