With a great effort, Poe left the flowing wound. The child's blood warmed and delighted him still, but he was overcome with regret and shame. His face was wet with tears.
'There'll be hell if she dies,' Ewers said.
Poe looked into the girl's face. It was a blank but he tasted her hate, her contempt. Gigi was cold in his arms, not dead but her mind flown for the moment, hidden deep inside as her body suffered this unpleasant transaction.
'Damn,' Ewers breathed. 'Poe, this is all your fault.'
Ewers was in the grip of sudden bloodlust. Poe had forgotten that the German was a vampire too. His eyes flushed red, his face roughened. Blunt fangs grew out of his unsmiling face.
'The least you can do is watch the alley,' Ewers ordered.
Gigi was not even afraid. It was only by force of will, compounded by Ewers's nagging, that Poe had resisted draining the child completely. He was not sure Ewers could exert as much self-control. His own past was not innocent of unwilled tragedies. With time, all vampires become killers. With more time, Poe feared, all vampires come to delight in killing.
Ewers fell on the shrinking child, ripping the collar from her bloody neck. He was a savage, brutally forcing her to yield what Poe had coaxed from her.
The German drank from the feebly struggling girl. His whole weight was on her. His back heaved. Two buttons above his coat-tails caught stray light, flashing like blind eyes. Poe imagined himself driving a length of sharpened wood into Ewers's back, piercing his dead heart.
This girl, tonight, would survive. Poe would see to that. But other girls, other nights, would not.
As he glutted himself, Ewers made noises like a pig. His face was bloodied. The red was black in the dark. Gigi was in a merciful swoon, great gashes in her neck and chest still leaking.
He took Ewers's arms and tried to lift him away. Ewers spasmed and was insensate in Poe's grip. He was easily rolled off Gigi. Poe ignored him and saw to the child. Her heartbeat was faint but strong. She would recover. He cradled the girl, not wanting to drink further. Their link faded, memories passing from his mind, but he wished to treasure her a few moments more. Only in these brief moments could he be calm in himself, at peace.
Cold doubts nibbled around the edges of his momentary contentment. Ewers, wiping his face, stood. He rearranged his clothes huffily, with pointed little gestures. He was angry, but smug.
'You are just like me, Poe. In us, desire runs strong. It is why we create.'
The child moaned, swimming from the pool of sleep towards the surface of consciousness.
*We are not alike at all,' Poe said, coldly.
Ewers brushed the thought aside and summoned concentration. He was unsteady. Gigi's blood was rich. Poe too felt added senses, a dangerous exhilaration coupled with awareness of the yawning abyss below. Scarlet sparks danced in the corners of his vision.
'We are expected at the château,' Ewers insisted. 'We must commandeer transport.'
Poe laid down the girl. She curled up like a cat. He rearranged her collar. Ewers had torn off too many buttons. Poe could not refasten her chemise and pinafore but made sure she was decently covered.
'Ewers, we have an obligation. To the child.'
Exasperated, Ewers fished in his waistcoat. He tossed a coin to the cobbles. Poe scooped it up and slipped it into the girl's hand. In half-sleep, she made a fist about the treasure.
They left Gigi and returned to the station. A car stood outside, driver at the wheel, officer standing by. When the officer saw Poe and Ewers, he snapped off a straight-backed salute.
'I am Oberst Theo von Kretschmar-Schuldorff. I have looked forwards immensely to meeting the great writer, Mr Edgar Allan Poe.'
The officer spoke in clear English. He was a sharp new-born.
'Well, this is him,' Ewers said, in German.
Poe shook the officer's hand. Kretschmar-Schuldorff's eyes swivelled sideways tinily, taking in the condition of the new arrivals. Poe had wiped himself with a handkerchief but Ewers's clothes and face were spotted with drying blood. The officer had formed an opinion but would do his duty and keep it to himself.
Ewers stormed off to reclaim his trunks from the martinet-in-the-making. Poe was helped into the car by Kretschmar-Schuldorff. The Oberst treated him with the deference due a very old lady whose dreadful smell must never be mentioned.
What Poe had taken from Gigi was gone completely. His red thirst was abated but fearful realities returned. The noise of shelling and the stench of death were again paramount.
'I no longer use my stepfather's name,' Poe told the officer. '1 am simply Edgar Poe.'
Kretschmar-Schuldorff took mental note. Names and ranks were as important as uniforms and decorations to his class. He was a Uhlan, attached to the Air Service. Many gallant cavalrymen traded steeds for wings in this war.
Ewers returned with his serf, each dragging a trunk. The corporal's black olive eyes were alive with resentment.
'We thought ourselves abandoned,' Ewers said, brusquely. 'What kept you?'
Oberst von Kretschmar-Schuldorff did not shrug, but his eyes narrowed minutely. Hanns Heinz Ewers was not making a comrade of this man.
The war,' he said, explaining everything.
16
Twice Bitten
The rule of "once bitten, twice shy" seems to have no currency with you,' said Major Cundall.
'Under the circumstances, you might say "once bitten" means we're on to something.'
Cundall sighed but his blood was up. Winthrop saw past the mask now. Behind the cynicism, the flight commander was a tiger. He had not won his DSO and Bar with wittily cutting remarks.
'So Diogenes insists we have another bash at Malinbois?'
'It's the general thought,' Winthrop explained.
Through an enchantment, Albright's cracked plates had been developed. Jagged white lines streaked across the photographs and areas were blank, but the castle could be seen. Winthrop laid out the photographs on the farmhouse table. The vampire pilots gathered round.
'This is the tower we're interested in,' he said.
Cundall considered the indicated area. 'Looks like a diving board. Do the air pirates of JG1 make prisoners walk the plank?'
The top of the tower was sheared off. A board affair jutted out of it. The area of interest corresponded with the most damage to the plate.
'What's that shadow?' Bigglesworth asked, 'mostly under the blotch? Is that an observer? A gun position?'
Diogenes had also thought it a puzzle. Winthrop tapped the scale marks at the edge of the photograph.
'If it's an observer, he must be a giant,' he said. 'Fifteen feet tall.'
'It's a gargoyle, old thing,' put in Courtney. 'Devilish fond of gargoyles, the Hun.'
'Malinbois was French until JG1 moved in.'
'Plus de gargoyles en France, too,' said Courtney. 'You should have clocked the mademoiselle from Armentieres I sported on my last leave.'
Some pilots laughed bitterly. Winthrop suffered less ragging on this visit. Nobody mentioned Spenser or Albright. He noticed the odd new face and tried not to think which old ones were absent. There was an army show on, readying for the enemy push everyone expected before spring. Cundall's Condors had spent the last few days knocking spotters out of the sky.
'Looks like we're in for a twilight patrol,' Lacey said, almost keen. 'If we flit over en masse, we'll ruffle the red fighting eagle's feathers.'
'Baron von Richthofen,' Roy Brown said, miserably. 'Someone has to kill him some time.'
'Someone has to kill everyone some time,' said Cundall, thinking it over. At bottom, he was a cautious sort. It was probably why he had survived this long.
'Diogenes suggests a full patrol this time,' Winthrop said, knowing the flight commander was entitled to be annoyed with the change of policy.