Fallada was shaking his head incredulously. “That’s really astonishing. Could it be used in general medical practice?”
“It has been used. You have an example here, in this house — Gustav, the footman who carried in your bags. He is from Lycksele, a small town not far from here. He was once an excellent carpenter; then a series of bereavements made him depressed and suicidal. After his third suicide attempt, he was confined in a mental home and became completely schizophrenic. Now, schizophrenia is a kind of vicious circle. The energies are low, so everything looks meaningless and futile. And because everything seems futile, you become even more depressed and exhausted. Now, at that time I had seven young girls here for the whole summer. We brought Gustav back here — to remove him from the old environment — and began intensive treatment. This was basically the thing the Commander has just experienced. In the first few hours, the girls became very tired, but he improved noticeably. After a few sessions, he stopped taking so much energy from them. He began to manufacture his own again. Within a week he was a different man. He begged me to remain here, so I employed him, and he married the gardener’s daughter. He is now perfectly normal.”
Fallada said slowly: “If all that is true, it is one of the most amazing things I’ve ever heard. Can anyone give this energy?”
“Yes. It takes a little practice — it is easier for women than for men. But I believe anyone can do it.”
Carlsen said: “And what if the patient becomes dependent on these energy transfusions, like a drug?”
The Count shook his head. “That happens only in rare cases, when the patient has a criminal temperament.”
Fallada looked at him with deep interest. “Criminal?”
“Yes. It is basically a kind of… spoiltness. Do you understand the word? Healthy people enjoy being independent. They don’t like feeling reliant on others. Of course, when we are very tired or ill, we need help — as I did. But some people are more self-pitying than others. They need much more help before ihey are willing to make the effort to help themselves. And there are so many people who are so full of resentment and self-pity that they never reach this point. The more help they get, the more they want.”
“And you would describe that as the criminal temperament?”
“Yes. Because the real criminal has the same attitude. Perhaps he becomes a criminal because he is poor and frustrated… I am thinking of Jarlsberg, the Uppsala rapist, at whose trial I gave evidence. He once told me that when he choked and raped a girl, he was taking something that she owed to him. After a while, such a man begins to acquire a taste for this mixture of resentment and violence. He may commit his first rape because he is tormented by sexual frustration. But after his tenth, he no longer wants sex, but only rape, the sense of violating another human being. If you like, he enjoys the sense of breaking the law, of doing wrong. Burglars sometimes commit wanton destruction for the same reason.”
Carlsen said: “You believe the vampire is the criminal type?”
“Indeed. That is the ultimate form of rape.” A clock in the hall struck the hour. Carlsen glanced at his watch; it was seven. The girls all stood up. Selma Bengtsson said: “I hope you will excuse us. We must get ready for dinner.”
“Of course, my dear.” The Count made a brief formal bow from the waist. When the door had closed behind the girls, he said: “Please be seated.” He remained standing until they had sat down. “In fact, I suggested to the young ladies that they might leave us alone half an hour before dinner.” He smiled at them. “Unless I am mistaken, you believe that the aliens from the Stranger are vampires?”
Both stared at him with astonishment. Fallada said: “How the devil did you know that?”
“A simple inference. It can hardly be coincidence that you bring the famous Commander Carlsen as your research assistant. We have all followed his adventures with fascination. And you tell me you want to ask my opinion about vampires. It would be strange if there was no logical connection between these circumstances.”
Fallada laughed. “God, for a moment you had me worried.”
Geijerstam said: “But these aliens are dead, are they not?”
“No. We don’t think so.” He took out his cigar case. “Olof, would you like to explain?” It was the first time he had used Carlsen’s Christian name; it established what they had both come to feel: that they were friends as well as allies and colleagues.
Without unnecessary detail, Carlsen described his visit to the Space Research building, the death of Seth Adams, and his own encounter with the girl. At first, Geijerstam listened quietly, his hands folded in his lap. He began to nod with increasing excitement. Finally, unable to contain himself, he began to pace up and down the room, shaking his head. “Yes, yes! That is what I have always believed. I knew it was possible.”
Carlsen was glad of the interruption; he was again experiencing the strange inner reluctance to describe what had happened when he was alone with the girl.
Fallada asked Geijerstam: “Have you ever encountered this kind of vampirism before?”
“Never as strong as this. Yet it was obvious that it must exist somewhere — I say so in my book. In fact, I believe it has existed on the earth in the past. The legend of the vampire is not just a fairy story. But please go on. What happened to the girl?”
“She somehow walked out of the building, in spite of all the guards and the electronic alarm systems. An hour later, the other two aliens were found to be dead.”
“And the girl?”
“She was found dead ten hours later — raped and strangled.”
Geijerstam said incredulously: “Dead?”
“Yes.”
“No! That is impossible!”
Fallada glanced at Carlsen. “Why?”
Geijerstam threw up his hands, searching for words. “Because — how can I say it? — because vampires can take care of themselves. That sounds absurd, perhaps… but again and again in my career as a criminologist I have noticed the same thing. People who get murdered are of a definite type. And vampires do not belong to that type. You must have noticed this yourself?”
“In that case, how do you explain her death?”
“You are quite sure that it was her body?”
“Absolutely.”
Geijerstam was silent for several moments. Then he said: “There are two possible explanations. It is possible that this was a kind of accident.”
“What kind?”
“You could call it a mistake. Sometimes, a vampire is so greedy for energy that the life force flows the wrong way — back to the victim instead of from him. You could compare it to a glutton swallowing food the wrong way.”
“And the other possibility?”
“Ah, that is one I have never encountered. The Greeks and the Armenians insist that the vampire can abandon its body voluntarily, to create an impression of death.”
“Do you think that possible?”
“I… I believe that a vampire could exist for a short time outside a living body.”
“Why only for a short time?”
“Briefly — because it would require immense energy and concentration to maintain individuality outside a living body. Among occultists, there is a technique known as astral projection, which is in many ways similar.”
Fallada leaned forward. “Do you think a vampire could take over someone else’s body?”
Geijerstam frowned, staring at the carpet. He said finally: “It may be possible. We know that people can be possessed by evil spirits — I have actually dealt with three such cases. And of course, possession would be the logical conclusion of vampirism, which is a desire to possess and absorb. Yet I have never heard of such a case.”
Carlsen said with sudden excitement: “These cases of possession by evil spirits — did they destroy the persons they possessed?”
“In one case, he became permanently insane. The other two were cured by exorcism.”
Carlsen turned to Fallada. “Could that be the explanation of what happened to Clapperton? If one of these things possessed him without actually killing him, he’d be aware of what was taking place, even if he couldn’t resist it. They’d have to destroy him finally. He’d know too much about them.”
The Count asked: “Who is this man?” Fallada summarised the story of the girl found on the railway line, of Clapperton’s disappearance and suicide. Geijerstam listened carefully without interrupting. He said: “I would guess that the Commander is right. This man Clapperton was possessed by one of these creatures. He may have committed suicide to escape.”
Fallada said: “Or was driven to it.”
None of them spoke for a moment, staring into the collapsing logs of the fire. Geijerstam said: “Well, I will do what I can to help you. I can tell you all I know of vampires. But I am not sure whether this would be of any use in this case.”
Fallada said: “The more we know of these things, the better. We’re working against time. Suppose the other aliens on the Stranger managed to get back to earth?”
Geijerstam shook his head. “That is impossible.”
“Why?”
“Because it is a characteristic of vampires that they must be invited. They cannot take the initiative.”
Fallada asked with a note of incredulity: “But why?”
“I am not certain. But it seems to be so.”
He was interrupted by the sound of a gong from the hall. None of them moved. When the noise ceased, they heard the voices of the girls on the stairs. Carlsen said: “But it’s possible they may be invited. The Prime Minister of England wants to get the Stranger back to earth. He thinks it may be of historical value.”
“Does he not know what you have told me?”
“Yes. But he’s pig-headed. He probably thinks that if we don’t do it, the Russians or the Arabs might step in and take all the credit.”
“You must stop him.”
“He’s given us a few months. In that time, we have to try to locate the other three aliens. Any idea where we might begin?”
Geijerstam thought for several moments, his eyes half closed. He sighed and shook his head.
“Offhand, no. Fallada and Carlsen stared at one another gloomily. “But let us talk about it. There must be a way. I will do what I can. Now let us go and eat.”
The dining room was smaller than the library, but the great oak table could easily have seated forty guests. Two of its panelled walls were covered with tapestries, each about twelve feet square. A crystal chandelier, suspended from the central beam of the ceiling, was reflected in two immense mirrors, one above the fireplace and one in the opposite wall.
The girls were already seated. The manservant was pouring Moselle into the tall, green-tinted glasses.
Geijerstam pointed to the central tapestry. “That is our famous vampire, Count Magnus de la Gardie.”
The portrait was of a powerfully built man in military dress, with a metal breastplate. The eyes stared down with the expression of a man used to command. Under the heavy moustache, the thin lips were tightly closed.
Miss Bengtsson said: “Your English ghost writer M. R. James has a story about Magnus. We have it here in Swedish.”
“Is it accurate?”
Geijerstam said: “Remarkably accurate. James came to this house — we have his signature in the visitor’s book.”
Carlsen asked: “What did Magnus do?”
“Basically, he was a sadist. There was a peasants’ revolt in Västergötland in 1690, and the king appointed Magnus to deal with it. Magnus repressed it so bloodily that even the courtiers were shocked. They say he executed more than four thousand people — half the population of the southern province. The king — Charles the Eleventh — was angry because it meant that he lost taxes. So Magnus was banished from court in disgrace. According to the legend, it was then that he decided to make the Black Pilgrimage to Chorazin. Chorazin was a village in Hungary where the inhabitants were all supposed to be in league with the devil. We have a manuscript in Magnus’s handwriting, and it actually says: ‘He who wishes to drink the blood of his enemies and obtain faithful servants should voyage to the town of Chorazin and pay homage to the Prince of the Air.’ ”
Fallada said: “That probably explains the vampire legend — the phrase about drinking the blood of his enemies.”
“That is impossible. To begin with, the manuscript is in Latin, and it was found among various alchemical works in the North Tower. I doubt whether anyone read it for half a century after his death. Secondly, he is referred to in a manuscript in the Royal Library as a vampire.”
“Did he make the Black Pilgrimage?”
“We do not know, but it is almost certain.”
Fallada said: “And you think that turned him into a vampire?”
“Ah, that is a difficult question. Magnus was a sadist already, and he was in a position of power. I believe that such men easily develop into vampires — energy vampires. They derive pleasure from causing terror and drinking the vitality of their victims. So he was probably a kind of vampire before he made the Black Pilgrimage. But when he decided to make the Black Pilgrimage, he made a deliberate choice of evil. From then on, it was no longer a matter of wicked impulses, but of conscious, deliberately planned cruelty.”
“But what did he do ?”
“Tortured peasants, burned down houses. They say he had two poachers skinned alive.”
“Which makes it sound as if he was a sadistic psychopath rather than a vampire.”
“I agree. It was after his death that he became known as a vampire. I have an eighteenth-century account book, written by a steward, that says ‘The labourers insist on being home before dark, since Count Magnus was seen in the churchyard.’ They say he left his mausoleum on nights of the full moon.”
“And is there any evidence of vampirism after his death?”
“Some. The records of the church in Stensel mention the burial of a poacher who was found on the island with his face eaten away. His family paid for three masses to ‘rescue his soul from the evil one.’ Then there was the wife of a coach maker in Storavan who was burnt as a witch; she claimed that Count Magnus was her lover and had taught her to drink the blood of children.”
They had finished the first course; Fallada, who had been sitting with his back to the tapestry, now stood up to look at it more closely. After staring up at it for several minutes, he said: “To be honest, I find it difficult to take the idea seriously. I accept what you say about energy vampires, because my own experiments lead me to the same conclusion. But all this is legend, and I find it hard to take it seriously.”