Vamparazzi (29 page)

“The results, however, were probably not what Gediminas envisioned,” Max said. “His various heirs fought over the throne, and his unified empire did not long survive his death.”

“Figures.” Feuding royal heirs seemed to be a common theme throughout history.

“Nonetheless, vampirism did, through Gediminas' efforts, become a hereditary trait among a very small percentage of Lithuanian males—”

“
Only
males?”

“Yes.”

I frowned. “That's not fair.”

“I agree. But Gediminas was interested in securing the succession and protecting his empire,” Max explained. “Not gender equality.”

“Hmph.”

“Before dying, he founded the Council of Gediminas in Vilnius, which is still the regulatory body governing vampires to this day,” he said. “Established by a ruler seeking to maintain political stability through vampirism, the object of the council has always been to ensure that hereditary vampires are valuable members of society, rather than bloodthirsty murderers. Thus the members of the council—and, indeed, Lithuanian vampires, in general—have occupied an utterly unique position in vampire phenomenology for centuries.”

“They sound like the police force of the vampire world.”

“Police, judge, jury, and executioner,” said Max.

“Don't other vampires object to that?”

“There
aren't
many other vampires. Vampirism is only hereditary among Lithuanians. In all other instances worldwide, vampires are undead or made. The undead, for obvious reasons, must be fought and dispatched as soon as they emerge,” he said. “Made vampires are very rare, and it's often necessary to execute them, as Radvila did, in order to prevent them from killing to quench their thirst.”

“I suppose this is a trivial point, all things considered, but doesn't this mean that John Polidori and Bram Stoker could have based their suave, articulate vampires on Lithuanians?”

“No, the aristocratic vampires in their fiction are undead, as you may recall,” Max said. “And that's just
one
of their irresponsible inaccuracies!”

“Forget I spoke. So let me make sure I've got this straight,” I said. “There are three kinds of vampires: monsters, loose cannons, and Lithuanians.”

“Correct.”

“And Lithuanians are the responsible citizens of the vampire world, making sure that their dangerous relatives don't cause trouble.”

“Precisely,” he said. “The Lithuanian vampires I knew and fought beside in Serbia were honorable men who believed deeply in their moral duty to protect people from the undead and, er, loose cannons. But Radvila readily admitted that there were also practical reasons for their actions.”

Nelli decided this was a propitious moment to roll on her back in the grass. Her long legs stuck up in the air and her big pink tongue hung out of the side of her mouth as she frolicked and made sounds of cheerful pleasure. It was impossible not to smile as we watched her.

Then Max continued, “Traditionally, the council policed vampirism within Lithuania, because if unruly vampires became a local pestilence, then the peaceful existence of law-abiding hereditary vampires would ultimately be threatened by mob hysteria.”

“In other words, the council functioned like a neighborhood watch.”

In a voice that was again filled with regrets, he said, “It was the Serbian vampire epidemic that convinced the council that their protection of the innocent must move beyond their borders and become international. The Magnum Collegium and the Austrian government were unable to control the spread of the contagion. If vampirism menaced Europe on a large scale, the council realized, it was only a matter of time before all vampires everywhere—including law-abiding Lithuanian vampires who held government office, gave to charity, and had never harmed anyone—would be hunted and slaughtered like wild beasts.”

“So the Lithuanians decided they had a stake in foreign vampires.” I paused. “Sorry about that.”

Nelli hopped to her feet, gave herself a thorough shake, and greeted a couple of passing children. Then she started sniffing purposefully around a nearby bush.

“Therefore, the council sent Radvila and his companions to the Balkans. More Lithuanians soon arrived in the region, and they were extraordinarily effective. But there were conditions for their involvement in ending the crisis. Conditions which they saw as essential to their own survival, and which I soon realized were realistic and reasonable. I had no authority to negotiate officially on behalf of the Austrian government or the Magnum Collegium, but Radvila and I made an unofficial agreement in good faith.”

He continued, “Then as winter descended, the Lithuanians remained in the region, fighting vampires and ending the epidemic, while I returned to Vienna to propose Radvila's terms—the treaty terms of the Council of Gediminas—to the Austrian government and to my colleagues in the Collegium.”

“This is the treaty you mentioned?” I asked. “The one that you and Radvila signed the last time you ever met?”

He nodded. “As it turned out, negotiating with government officials was almost as dreadful as battling vampires,” Max said with a shudder. “Meanwhile, the Magnum Collegium was uneasy about the proposed terms and indecisive for some weeks, despite my exhortations. They didn't truly understand how dire conditions were in Serbia, and they were also uneasy about signing a treaty with vampires. So you see, I was asking both the Collegium and His Majesty's government to place a
great
deal of faith in my judgment.”

“And did they?”

“More or less. In early spring, by which time the vampire epidemic had been conquered, I returned to Serbia with authorization to ratify the Treaty of Gediminas.”

Having found a satisfactory spot, Nelli relieved herself. I scooped up her leavings with a plastic bag, which I carried over to a waste receptacle.

“Given the size and urgency of the problem,” I said, “you'd think everyone would be relieved that the Lithuanians were there to solve it. I don't understand, Max. What was in this treaty that made it so controversial?”

“It stipulated that, from that day forward, all vampire matters,
wherever
they occurred, would come strictly under the authority of the Council of Gediminas. No other party to the treaty could intrude or interfere. Similarly, Lithuanian vampires undertook never to engage in or interfere with any non-vampire concerns of the other parties.”

“They didn't want anyone's help with the next vampire epidemic?”

“The Lithuanians thought it was our fault that
this
one had become such a catastrophe. They felt we should just stay out of their way in future. They asserted that our failures—
my
failures—had indirectly put them at risk, and they couldn't allow that to happen again.”

“That seems very unfair,” I said loyally, “given what you were dealing with.”

“No, their viewpoint had merit, Esther,” Max said wearily. “Although I threw myself into my mission, I was not a particularly effective vampire hunter. I realized after seeing Lithuanians hunt and destroy the undead that it really was work best left to vampires.”

“Was anyone else involved in the treaty?” I asked. “Were there other signatories?”

“No. Given the nature of the subject matter, it was something of a
secret
treaty,” he said. “The Austrians and the Collegium both found it potentially embarrassing, albeit for different reasons.”

“Ah.” After a moment, I said, “But the Habsburg monarchy doesn't exist anymore. They fell from power and their empire crumbled at the end of World War One.”

“True. The Magnum Collegium does still exist, however, as does the Council of Gediminas. And both parties continue to honor the treaty.”

“Is this why you aren't supposed to have anything to do with Lithuanians, Max?” I asked. “Because of the treaty?”

“Yes. It's prohibited for Lithuanians—well, Lithuanian
vampires,
to be specific—to get involved in my work.” He added a little anxiously, “Similarly, I cannot get directly involved in a vampire matter, Esther.”

“Oh.” I was at a loss for words. This possibility had never occurred to me.

“But I am very puzzled. Even alarmed,” Max said. “Given that there have been three—possibly four—local murder victims whose blood has been drained, there should be a Lithuanian involved in this situation by now.”

“Maybe there is, and I just haven't encountered him,” I suggested.

“Perhaps,” he conceded.

Nelli shoved her way between us, wriggling playfully as she sought some attention.

As I patted her head, a thought occurred to me. “This may be irresponsibly inaccurate, too,” I said slowly, “but I've read that animals can detect vampires. Or are sensitive to their presence. Is that true?”

“Certainly in the case of the undead, it's true,” Max said. “But I never observed any such phenomenon in relation to living vampires. In fact, Radvila was very good with horses. However . . .” He retrieved Nelli's leash from me as he gazed at her thoughtfully. “Nelli is only in the
form
of an animal. In reality, she is a mystical being. We have had previous experience—albeit, somewhat confusing at times—with her demonstrating sensitivity to other mystical entities. It
may
be that she could sense a living vampire if she encountered one.”

Nelli noticed another dog approaching us, and she whined a little with friendly interest, her floppy ears perked alertly, and her long, bony tail whipped back and forth so furiously that it probably could have beheaded an unwary vampire.

I checked my watch. “I have to go to work, Max. Instead of waiting until performance time, why don't you come with me and bring Nelli? I don't think the undead would pass unnoticed at the Hamburg, not even among the vamparazzi, but it sounds as if a loose cannon could. If it wouldn't violate the Treaty of Gediminas, maybe you and Nelli could try to determine whether there's a vampire lurking around the theater?”

I
soon discovered that I had drastically underestimated the vampysteria that would be unleashed by the ghoulish tabloid stories and Internet chatter about Angeline being murdered while dressed as Miss Jane Aubrey, the exsanguination (which the police had indeed, as Lopez predicted, been unable to keep quiet), and Daemon's involvement in the case.

Max disliked all forms of motorized transport, and the theater was within a few blocks of the park, so we walked there. I felt anxious about encountering the vamparazzi on foot; but today I was accompanied by a dog the size of a minivan, as well as a talented mage who had survived fighting real vampires. So, hah!—let the Janes just
try
to attack me now! Apart from sleeping with men like Daemon, it would prove to be the biggest mistake of their scantily clad lives.

However, though reckless, I wasn't stupid. I put on a pair of dark glasses and borrowed Max's fedora, hoping not to be recognized.

When we got within a block of the theater, though, I was flabbergasted by the size of the crowd, as well as alarmed by how unruly they were today.

The NYPD seemed to share my reaction. Even as Max and I approached the first barricade, a police van pulled up to the curb and additional patrolmen started pouring out of the back of the vehicle, obviously summoned to assist with crowd control. A cop who looked as if he was considering changing professions was speaking into a megaphone, warning people to stay behind the police barricades, to refrain from pushing and shoving, and to keep all their clothes on—adding to someone in the seething throng, “Yes, that
does
include you, miss.”

“Good heavens!” Max said. “This is extraordinary!”

“Yeah,” I said. “You would think it's just too
chilly
for partial nudity.”

Nelli was looking around with mingled interest and anxiety, panting a little with nervous excitement. Her long tail wagged in an uncertain rhythm, evincing her indecision about whether she found the noisy, swarming, strangely dressed crowds here friendly or menacing.

“Ow !”
A woman behind us yelped when Nelli's lethal tail whipped against her. She wore the requisite black leather, goth makeup, elaborate hairstyle, and impractical heels.

“I do apologize!” Max said to her, unfazed by her appearance. Well, he'd seen the bloodthirsty undead, after all. “Nelli, please be more cautious.”

“Is that a
dog?
” The woman's nasal voice and New Jersey accent rather spoiled the exotic effect of her outfit. “That's the biggest dog I've ever seen!”

Forcing my way through the dense crowd, I pulled Max along behind me, who in turn pulled Nelli. I kept going until my stomach was pressing against a police barricade. With some difficulty, I waved down a police officer and convinced him to get close enough for me to speak to him. Then I showed him my ID.

Pitching my voice for his hearing only, I said, “I'm in the cast. I need to get to the theater. I don't want to attract any atten—”

“Sergeant!” The cop lifted his head and shouted down the street, loudly enough for the nearest hundred vamparazzi to hear, “This is Esther Diamond! She's in the cast! What do I do now?”

I sighed, removed Max's fedora (which was too big for my head, anyhow), and gave it back to him as people in the crowd started screaming, “Jane! It's Jane!
Jane!
”

“Thank you, officer,” I said wearily. “You're very helpful.”

“That's what we're here for, miss.”

People in the crowd immediately started pressing in on me, pushing and shoving to get closer to me, grabbing at my clothes and arms. My sunglasses fell off, hit the ground, and were trampled. I cried out when I felt my hair being pulled. Nelli barked sharply, prancing around me in agitation as bodies smooshed up against both of us. She had obviously made up her mind about these people, now that they were shouting, shoving, and pawing at me. Whether or not Max's mystical familiar could identify a living vampire remained to be seen, but she certainly knew an unruly mob when she saw one.