Chapter Nine
Simon could not sleep, so when two gray ghosts, one tall and thin, and one short and round, appeared before him at dawn, he thought he must be seeing things again. And when they claimed to be Sophie’s aunts, he was certain madness had taken hold of his sleep-deprived brain.
“I don’t want to believe in ghosts,” he said firmly. “You’re not real.”
“Do you believe in vampires?” The one with the bouncy curls who called herself “Mildred” asked.
“I didn’t before yesterday,” he said, “but apparently, I am to duel one at midnight. He even sent me a silver bullet.” Simon shook his head and sipped his brandy. He really was going mad, standing here having a conversation with two imaginary, middle-aged ghosts about a vampire.
“He’s fooling you. A silver bullet won’t kill him,” the tall one who called herself “Agnes” said. “It might stun him at best, but you will need to drive a stake through his heart to finish him off. And even that may not be enough.”
“Perhaps you don’t understand how duels work,” Simon said. “Each dueler gets one shot. If I hit him first, I win, and vice versa. Whether or not the shot kills one’s opponent is irrelevant.”
“With all due respect, my lord, you are not dueling a gentleman. You are dueling a dangerous vampire. If you don’t kill him, he will kill you and Sophie.”
Simon swallowed the rest of his brandy and turned to look at the painting hanging on his wall. He shivered at the sight of the vampire gazing thirstily down at Sophie. His chest burned with anger. They are right. To save Sophie, I must kill the monster!
*
Midnight, January 2, 1858
With only a fire torch to light their way, Simon and James entered Highgate Cemetery at midnight.
They walked through the large iron gates, left unlatched, as if someone was waiting for them.
It was almost impossible to see where they were going in the darkness and fog.
But they were soon joined by Sophie’s two aunts, whose faces appeared before them almost as part of the mist.
“Did you bring the stake?” Mildred hissed, almost frightening Simon and James to death.
They stopped. “Yes,” Simon said reluctantly. He had carved a small but sharp stake, which James carried in a cloth bag, but he was still opposed to using it. It went against the code of dueling—to kill one’s opponent after the fact.
“Stop that,” Agnes said. “He’s already dead. You won’t be killing anyone.”
Simon blinked. It would be good to remember that as long as he was in this cemetery, his thoughts were not private.
“Now,” Agnes said, “let us go and rescue Sophie.”
Simon and James continued forward, following the ethereal silver glow emanating from the two ghosts as they glided over the graves. Simon was oddly comforted by their presence. It certainly couldn’t harm to have two ghosts on his side.
After several minutes of walking, they spotted firelight in the distance, and Simon’s heartbeat accelerated.
He hated to admit it to himself, but he was afraid.
Nonetheless, he continued forward. Although dueling was now illegal, there were certain circumstances where it was still warranted, in his opinion.
He was doing this to save the life of the woman he loved, and he would not be able to live with himself if he’d turned down the chance to do so.
As they approached the orange glow, Simon saw that it came from two rows of torches planted in the earth, which created a pathway that appeared to stretch for some forty paces. The vampire, Dimitri, stood at the far end of the pathway, his strange golden eyes glowing like a cat’s in the firelight.
An imposing figure cloaked in black, he was at least a foot taller than Simon.
But to Simon’s relief, he didn’t look nearly as malevolent in real life as he had in the painting.
Aside from his translucent skin and golden eyes, Dimitri looked like a well-dressed gentleman.
Then Simon caught a glimpse of the vampire’s second.
It was the gaunt, red-eyed “drunk” he’d seen lying on the street, talking to himself.
But of course, he wasn’t a drunk, he was a vampire—one less powerful than Dimitri from the looks of it.
Simon scanned the area, imagining that he’d see Sophie bound with ropes or worse, locked in a cage, but she was nowhere. No doubt, Dimitri had her imprisoned somewhere. The thought brought a wave of anger to his chest, and his fear vanished. He glared at the vampire.
A smile played on Dimitri’s lips. “That’s it.
You are ready, I see,” he said, and Simon hated that he could read his mind.
“Let us begin.” Dimitri turned to his second and snapped his fingers.
The vampire stepped forward and handed Dimitri his weapon—a pistol that looked to be several centuries old.
James stepped forward, his face pale with fear in the firelight, and gave Simon his pistol, inside of which sat the silver bullet.
“Meet in the middle,” a commanding voice said, although Simon could identify no speaker.
He obeyed and marched forward, as did Dimitri.
When they came face to face, the vampire flashed his teeth, and Simon almost lost his resolve.
The power that emanated from the creature was palpable.
Simon had the distinct feeling that the vampire could flick him away like one does an annoying bug.
He inhaled and steeled himself inwardly, reminding himself that he had to be successful or die trying for Sophie’s sake.
“Turn,” the voice commanded. Then the counting began. “One, two, three…” and with each count, Simon took a step away from Dimitri. When the count reached forty paces, they were ordered to stop and turn to face each other again.
“Raise your weapons.”
Simon raised his pistol, forgetting his fears and focusing solely on his target.
“Fire!”