He said to Levi, “For pity’s sake, monsieur, we can’t do it. She’s at peace.”

“Pardieu! I wish it to be true!” the occultist replied. He pulled a hand mirror and clove of garlic from his pocket. “We test, oui?”

Reluctantly, Burton nodded.

“Wait!” Arundell snapped. “What are you doing?”

“Sir,” Burton said, “please allow Monsieur Levi to proceed. There will be no defilement at his hands—you know I would not allow it.”

Arundell frowned but conceded.

Levi broke the clove and placed it on Isabel’s upper lip. He waited for two minutes, then removed the coins from her eyes, pulled up the left lid, and held the mirror before it.

Silence.

The men stood motionless, holding their breath.

Burton looked at Levi and opened his mouth to speak.

Isabel cried out. Her arms flew up, knocked the mirror away then flopped back down. She moaned and became still.

Henry Arundell let loose a despairing wail and fell backward against the side of the chancel. He slid to the floor, cradled his head in his arms, and wept.

Burton felt the heat drain from his body. “It happens to all corpses,” he whispered. “The muscles contract. Air escapes. They spasm and emit noises. I’ve seen it many times.”

Swinburne rounded on him and took a hold of his arms. “Richard, you know it’s not the case. And you know what must be done. But you don’t have to be here; you don’t have to witness it. Go. I’ll help Monsieur Levi.”

“Help him what?” Arundell shouted. “Drive a stake into my daughter’s heart? No! No! No!”

Levi held out his hands placatingly. “Je comprends. But if we delay, the horreur you feel now, it is nothing to what will come.”

Arundell angrily wiped the tears from his cheeks. “You’re leading me down the path to hell, sir.”

“I seek only salvation for your daughter.”

“I forbid you to touch her!”

Levi’s shoulders slumped. “Then we have not the choice. We wait. You have the floor mirrors?”

Arundell pointed toward the pulpit. The mirrors were stacked against it.

“Messieurs,” Levi said to Swinburne and Monckton Milnes, “will you assist? They must be put in a circle around the coffin, facing it.” He asked Arundell, “You will allow this?”

The slightest of nods gave him permission and in short order the task was completed. The occultist then walked the length of the nave and turned the key in the chapel’s entrance door.

There were crucifixes of various sizes mounted on stands around the chamber. As Levi returned to his companions, he selected five of them—each about a foot high—then distributed them among the men, keeping one for himself.

“Si vous avez raison,” he said to Burton and Arundell, “if you are correct, I am very happy. But—je regrette—you will soon see the wickedness of the nosferatu. Close to midnight, Isabel will rise. These crucifixes will remind her of her faith. She see herself in the mirrors. She recognise that she is strigoi morti. This, I hope, is sufficient to overcome her hunger. She seek the oblivion of the grave. We help her achieve it.”

“O compassionate God,” Arundell whispered, “I plead with thee, send your Holy Spirit to soothe my suffering!”

No more was said.

The men waited.

An hour passed.

At ten minutes to twelve, Isabel groaned.

Arundell cried out. In a jabbering voice, he yelled, “Gloria Patri et Filio et Spiritui Sancto!”

His daughter shrieked and sat up. Her hands flew to her face, the palms facing outward, the fingers clawed.

“Most blessed glorious Eternal Holy Trinity adorable unity in the Glory of Your majesty in the splendour of Your power!” Arundell babbled.

Isabel’s eyes opened. She hissed like an angry cat. The men—except Arundell—raised their crucifixes. Her father screeched, “Exalted unto the ages of ages! Kyrie eleison! Kyrie eleison! Kyrie eleison!”

As if it cost her no effort at all, Isabel climbed out of the coffin, her white dress flowing around her. She looked at each of the men in turn, her pupils pinpricks, her lips drawn so far back that her teeth appeared almost fang-like.

On his knees, Arundell jabbered, “Kyrie eleison Jesu soter unice eleison! Kyrie eleison Jesu soter unice eleison! Kyrie eleison Jesu soter unice eleison!”

Isabel darted toward Burton but jerked to a stop when he brandished his cross in her face. Her hair came loose and fell wildly about her. She whimpered. “Dick, please! Love me! Love me!”

Hearing her speak, Arundell screamed, “She’s alive! She’s alive!”

“No!” Levi shouted. “She is un-dead! Strigoi morti! Do not let her touch you!”

“Isabel!” Arundell pleaded. “Daughter!”

She turned on him with a throaty growl, and seeing the dead sheen across her eyes and the savage hunger in her face, he moaned and fell backward, clutching the crucifix to his chest. “Kyrie eleison! Kyrie eleison! Kyrie eleison! Holy Holy Holy Lord God Pantocrator who is and was and is to come!”

“Isabel, regardez-moi!” Levi barked. “Regardez-moi! Dieu le commande!”

She spun, cringing away from the crucifixes, and snarled, “Give me my life!”

“Il est allé,” Levi said. “It is gone. Regardez!” He reached to the mirror beside him and adjusted it to face her.

Isabel stared at her reflection. She lifted her hands and looked with an air of puzzlement at the rosary that was entangled in her fingers. She touched the cross that dangled on a silver chain around her neck.

“What has happened to me?” she croaked. “Why am I—why am I—?”

She looked at Burton and saw the dread in his eyes.

“No!” she pleaded. “No, no, no, no!”

Henry Arundell toppled sideways to the floor, unconscious.

Levi stepped forward. “Back!” he commanded. “The Lord God Almighty awaits you. You must be sanctified and delivered unto Him!”

She retreated, confused, panicked, emitting an animalistic keening, and bumped against the table. Her eyes fixed on Burton. “Help me!”

The explorer stumbled into the side of the chancel. He dropped his crucifix and gasped for air.

“Paix éternelle, Isabel,” Levi said. “Eternal peace shall be yours.”

With her eyes fastened immovably on Burton, Isabel hoisted herself onto the table and clambered into the coffin. She sat gazing at him for a few seconds then lay back.

Levi approached the casket. He leaned over it and held the crucifix before her face. In a low, crooning voice, he recited:

Go forth, Christian soul, from this world

in the name of God the almighty Father,

who created you,

in the name of Jesus Christ, the Son of the living God,

who suffered for you,

in the name of the Holy Spirit,

who was poured out upon you.

Go forth, faithful Christian!

May you die in peace this day,

may your home be with God in Zion,

with Mary, the virgin Mother of God,

with Joseph, and all the angels and saints.

May you return to your Creator

who formed you from the dust of the earth.

May holy Mary, the angels, and all the saints

come to meet you as you go forth from this life.

May you see your Redeemer face to face.

She closed her eyes and became still.

“Sir Richard,” Levi said quietly. “Come here.”

Algernon Swinburne looked at Burton, who was immobilised, then stepped over to him, slipped an arm around his waist, and pushed him forward, guiding him to the side of the coffin.

“Feel for the pulse,” Levi ordered.

Burton did so, moving like one of Arundell’s clockwork footmen.

“You detect it?” Levi asked.

“No,” the explorer responded hoarsely. “There is none, and her skin is cold.”