‘What do I look like?’ she asked. Aleksei took a deep breath and was about to describe her when she asked a slightly different question. ‘Am I beautiful?’

‘Yes,’ said Aleksei, without the need to prevaricate.

‘Still?’ she said. Aleksei couldn’t provide an answer. ‘They call me Raisa Styepanovna,’ she said. ‘And you?’

‘Aleksei Ivanovich.’

She walked towards him, holding out her hand. ‘You are a strikingly handsome man, Aleksei Ivanovich,’ she said.

The introduction was so natural that Aleksei almost bent down to kiss her hand before he remembered that she was a vampire. He need not have worried. While she was still two steps away from him her head jerked suddenly backwards and she came to an abrupt halt. Her hands went up to her neck and Aleksei saw for the first time the iron band around it that constrained her. It was narrow and could almost be taken for a choker. It even added to her allure. From it, a heavy metal chain, now taut, stretched out behind her to where it was attached to an iron ring fixed to the cave floor.

Aleksei looked to the mirror again. Still there was no sign of Raisa Styepanovna in its image, nor of her beautiful dress, nor even of the chain stretching out behind her. Aleksei saw his own reflection, and those of the chair, a table and a book, but between them, where this beautiful lady stood, all that could be seen was the bare rock wall behind her. Of all the strange phenomena that surrounded the voordalak, this seemed the one that most needed the intervention of a discerning god, to intercept those rays of light that carried images of the voordalak, her clothes, or anything related to her, but to allow through the more mundane objects that anyone would expect to see.

Another scream came from along the tunnel. Raisa pressed her lips together tightly, and her eye held back a tear. ‘Will it never stop?’ she said. ‘He does it only to torment me.’

‘I’m not sure he can be blamed for his agony,’ said Aleksei.

‘But the man who causes it can.’ Aleksei presumed she was referring to Cain, and chose not to disabuse her. ‘Hasn’t he done enough to me?’

‘Compared to some that I’ve seen,’ said Aleksei, ‘you appear to be living in relative comfort.’

‘Hah!’ she snapped. ‘He told me I would be beautiful for ever – that’s why I allowed myself to succumb to one of these dreadful creatures.’

‘Your beauty has endured.’

‘Yes, but at what cost?’

She stood staring into the mirror, her gaze met only by empty space. ‘How do I know that I am beautiful?’ she asked, her voice on the edge of hysteria.

He left her to her sorrow and carried on down the tunnel. The scream came again, and this time Aleksei knew it was close, just around the next corner. He gripped the handles of his two swords firmly and stepped through the rock archway. Beyond, he found much that he had seen before. Another natural cell, separated from the tunnel by heavy iron bars. The voordalak inside had been given a chair to sit on. This one did not look underfed. It was wearing very little, just torn undergarments, with nothing to cover its top half. And the top half of its body was the strangest thing so far. It was covered in tattoos; some simple lettering, others ornate decorations. Aleksei tried to read some of the text and saw that it was nauseatingly mundane. Along the left side of its belly, parallel with its bottom rib, was a phrase in English simple enough for even Aleksei to understand.

Volume VII

How long would it be before Cain was harvesting that for the covering of his latest book?

The voordalak flung its head back and uttered a terrible howl into the air. Dr Wylie was remaining true to his word. Within seconds, it fell silent again. Its head dropped back down and it didn’t even see that it was no longer alone.

‘I’m sorry,’ muttered Aleksei through the bars.

The vampire looked up. It peered at him as though it saw the shapes that formed his body, but could not associate them with any concept it recognized.

‘Sorry?’ it asked. In appearance, it was in its late twenties; a chubby round face was topped with a blob of dirty, curly blond hair.

‘Your pain. It’s my fault.’

‘It’s his fault,’ spat the voordalak, and flicked his eyes further down the corridor along which Aleksei had been heading.

‘Cain?’ asked Aleksei. The voordalak nodded. ‘Is there anything I can do?’ Aleksei almost laughed as he heard the question on his own lips.

‘Could you give me some water?’ It pointed behind Aleksei. He turned to see a full pail and a ladle.

‘You drink water?’ considered Aleksei; again, it sounded too much like the sort of question Cain might ask. The creature replied, shaking its head.

‘No, but it eases the pain. Here’ – he indicated the left side of his back – ‘this is where the skin came from; one piece, at least.’ Aleksei looked where he was shown, but, as was to be expected, there was no scar.

Aleksei turned to fetch the bucket. Even as he did so, another scream shook the cave. He put both his swords into his right hand and then carried the water over with his left, placing the pail on the ground beside the bars, within easy reach from inside. Then he dipped the ladle in and passed it, handle first, to the voordalak, knowing he should be wary, but allowing his humanity to overcome his caution.

The vampire reached out and then stopped, staring down at the ladle, or something near to it. It briefly glanced into Aleksei’s eyes and then back to what had captured its attention. ‘The three-fingered man,’ it murmured quietly, almost to itself, staring at Aleksei’s left hand.

‘You expected me?’

The voordalak gritted its teeth in agony, but did not scream out loud. It grabbed the ladle and threw the water over its back, breathing heavily. The water did not hiss or evaporate; there was no heat in the creature’s body, only the sensation of it. The true heat was up above them, out in the sun. But the water appeared to alleviate the pain.

‘No one expects you, least of all Cain,’ it said. ‘He pretends you are a myth, but he talks of you.’

‘What does he say?’

‘Enough for us to know,’ said the voordalak.

‘To know what?’

‘That he fears you.’

Aleksandr could not clearly recall the reason he had come here. He had been standing atop the cliffs at Chufut Kalye, gazing down at the valley. He had sensed a presence standing beside him and known it was the figure he had seen in his dream, standing on the prow of the boat, ordering him to come to this place. He had dared not look up into the man’s eyes, but it had been unnecessary. The figure had taken him by the hand and led him forward. He felt the cold metal of the gold dragon ring against the flesh of his fingers, even though he knew it had no more substance than the man himself. It had seemed such a simple idea, to take a step forward, to fall and fall and fall down, tumbling over the rocky ground, his spirit coming to rest long before his lifeless body did the same. But that was not where the figure had led him. Instead, they had climbed down a narrow crevice to a ledge on the cliff below.

There Cain had been waiting, aged since their last encounter, in 1812, but unmistakable. The dark figure with the dragon ring had vanished, along with his influence over the tsar, but now there was a far more concrete reason to follow Cain deep into the caves; he carried a pistol. Eventually they had found themselves here, wherever here might be. Along the route Aleksandr had seen no one. His main concern had been to remember the way out – in the hope he’d get the chance to leave.

It was, to be blunt, a cave – but a well-appointed cave. There was a carpet, chairs, tables and a desk; even a clavichord, sitting in the corner, its lid open. All around were items of scientific equipment – smoked glass and polished brass – whose purpose the tsar could not fathom. Curtains and tapestries hung from the walls around, giving a slightly greater sense of it being a room, but they did not cover all the rocky surfaces and so the reminders of Cain’s troglodyte existence were never far away.