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forced to acknowledge a preponderance of silver where once there was only jet. And my hands! I see them now as I dip my pen. They are such poor, frail, withered things, pale parchment over bone. If they are this hideous, what has become of my once-beautiful face?
    It has been more than I can bear, in part because of my helplessness, and Vlads. We have both come to hate each other because of our miseryand it is all the fault of that bastard Stefan! (Bastard I shall call him, though he is the legitimate heir of my dead brother, Arkady. He deserves to be called by fouler terms than that!) Or shall I call him by his alias, Van Helsing? He has discovered somehow that the covenant works both ways: that each time he destroys Vlads spawnthose few we failed to properly dispose of ourselves (we dislike creating competitors) and all their many offspringwe are weakened. Our doom seemed inevitable, for we had no choice over these two long decades but to languish here, especially now that we are too weak even to hunt nourishment.
    Last evening Vlad came to mehis skin grey as a corpses, his eyes sunken and red, his hair and eyebrows stark, brittle white. And yet his pale lips were curved in a smile, and his voice oddly animated with excitement as he said: Zsuzsanna. If we take no action, we shall soon be so weak that Van Helsing will come and easily destroy us. But nodo not weep on our account, for I have good news!
    For I had broken into sobs, so perfect was my misery; and now to think that I who had been filled with such power, such happiness, such hope, could only wait helplessly for final, eternal oblivion
    But he waved me silent, and said vehemently, Do not cry because of him. He thinks he is powerful enough to defeat us, but he will soon see his error. He will not escape me; I shall soon see him delivered into my hands. But here is the news: A mortal visitor will soon arrive at the castle, a healthy young man Do not sigh, for that is not the extent of it. I have received a letter, child, from my cousin Elisabeth.
    Elisabeth? I had never before heard him utter the name, and in any case did not understand why this should be such a glorious thing, for his voice rose exultantly, as if he had announced our deliverance.
    An immortal like us. She is powerful and canny, shrewd enough to defeat your brothers son. And she will do so. But first, she will come to us from Vienna, and restore us to strength.
    How is this possible? I asked, and at once realised my question was a foolish one. Of course this Elisabeth would be able to bring us an even larger amount of fresh, vital blood than one lone man could supply. That would at least ease the weakness that came from hunger, but certainly we could not recapture our full vigour until Van Helsings rampage was ended.
    The instant my question was stated, Vlad drew back, and his eyes grew wider, redder, with a rage I did not understand. That is not your concern! he snapped, and in an instant was gone again from my room.
    Clearly this Elisabeth is a most powerful woman more powerful than Vlad himself, else I would not have detected the clear note of jealousy in his voice. Yes, he brought me into this existence, and for that I must be always grateful. At the same time, I have come to despise himdespise him for his cruelty, his arrogance, his lies. To him, I am nothing more than chattel, at best an occasional companion, to be treated however he desires and dismissed without concern for my feelings when he tires of me. He gave me the dark kiss all those fifty years ago because in life I was timid, grateful, grovelling, smitten with love for him. And now that I am transformed into the strong, confident creature I was meant to be, he grows bored, even annoyed. When last he went out of the castle to hunt many months ago (for all of us are too weak for the long ride through the pass to Bistritsa, to post mail and thus invite guests to our castle, as we did in the old daysor so I had thought), I voiced a protest: