Aunt Carolyn nodded. “That’s right. They can’t cross running water, for the same reason they can’t be in sunlight. Because running water and sunlight are pure things of the earth, and vampires are just the opposite. They’re impure. They’re cursed to live forever in evil, and do evil things. And sometimes, as I’m sure you’ve heard, they can change themselves into bats and fly around wherever they like at night.”
Jimmy gulped and looked over at Kevin.
Bats, Kevin thought with a slow dread spreading. We just saw several bats right outside…
Then he asked, “Isn’t it true that, even though vampires are immortal, there are ways to stop them? In the movies, the good guys always hammer a wooden stake into the vampire’s heart, and that kills them.”
Again, Aunt Carolyn nodded. “That’s quite right. A wooden stake driven through the heart will do it. And the only other way to kill a vampire is to keep him out in bright sunlight for a while or in running water. Plus, a vampire can’t look at the sign of the cross, so that’s how people would protect themselves. Vampires are, like, allergic, to crosses. In fact, in Romania and other countries in Eastern Europe, townspeople would often paint crosses on their doors to keep vampires away. And they’d paint the crosses… in blood.”
In blood! Kevin thought. Gross!
The fire continued to pop and crackle, and thunder rumbled from outside—Kevin could actually feel the floor shudder. He leaned further over in his seat on the couch and said, “Tell us about Count Volkov.”
Aunt Carolyn’s long black dress and black hair almost made her look like part of the shadows around her armchair. At times, all Kevin could really see was her thin, pale face smiling in the firelight. She waited a moment for the thunder to pass, then went on, “Count Volkov was a vampire, just like Dracula. He was born in the 1600’s as a prince. No one knows how he became a vampire, he may even have been born that way. He lived for hundreds of years in a big castle, ruling over his kingdom. But one day—”
“What?” Kevin asked, his eyes wide in fascination. “What happened?”
“Let her tell the story, stupe!” Becky complained again.
“It was hundreds of years later, in the late 1800’s. By then the people in The Count’s kingom realized that he was a vampire. So they all banded together and revolted against him. Unfortunately, many of them died in the fight, but eventually they were able to drive The Count out of his kingdom. And can you guess what happened then?”
“He changed into a bat and flew away?” Jimmy suggested.
“No, but you’re close,” Aunt Carolyn informed him. “The Count still had many servants under his vampire’s spell, and he was also very rich. He collected all the gold in the kingdom and had it melted down into gold bricks, then he had his servants build him a big sailing ship—”
“The Scrimm,” Kevin said, more under his breath than to anyone, remembering the bizarre paintings he’d seen in the foyer and the back hallway. “The name of his ship was The Scrimm.”
Aunt Carolyn looked amazed. “Why, that’s quite correct
Kevin. How… how did you know that?”
Kevin then explained about the paintings he’d seen in the lodge, the blank-faced servants, the crate full of gold bricks, and, of course, the coffin.
Aunt Carolyn continued, impressed by Kevin’s sense of observation. “And anyway, Count Volkov, now banished from his kingdom, loaded up his gold and his servants onto The Scrimm, and then he set sail… for America.”
“And when he got to America,” Kevin concluded, “his servants brought him ashore in his coffin, along with his gold. And they burned the Scrimm…”
“Exactly,” Aunt Carolyn verified. “The Count ordered that The Scrimm be burned in the water so that none of his servants could sail back to Europe and tell anyone where The Count was. He didn’t want any of his enemies coming after him to try to kill him.”
Kevin was astonished. He’d been right! The paintings he’d seen were depictions of the very story Aunt Carolyn was telling right now, the local legend. But when Kevin fully realized that, another question came immediately to mind.
“Who painted the paintings, Aunt Carolyn?” he asked.
“Do you really want to know?”
“Yes!”
Aunt Carolyn smiled that creepy smile of hers again. From the shadows in which she sat, she pointed across to the room into the foyer, at the first painting Kevin had seen this morning.
“Go look,” she instructed him. “Look for the artist’s name on the canvas. It’s written in the lower right corner, in very small letters.”
Confused, Kevin got up from the couch and walked over to the painting. The Count Arrives with his Servants and Treasure, he read the title again. Then his eyes moved down, to the lower right-hand corner of the fancy, carved picture frame.
It was so dark he could barely see at all; he had to squint as hard as he could, and even then, it took a momentary flash of lightning for him to actually be able to read the artist’s signature.
My… gosh, Kevin thought, bug-eyed.
The signature, in fine, curvy letters, was this:
Count Volkov
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Kevin rushed back to the hearth room, and, nearly stuttering, said, “You mean he painted these pictures? Count Volkov himself?
“He certainly did, Kevin,” Aunt Carolyn replied. “There’s no way you could have seen them all yet, but Count Volkov painted a lot of the paintings in the lodge. There are actually several dozen of them, hanging in various places.”
Kevin felt intrigued by this information, that The Count himself had painted the very pictures Kevin had looked at and even touched. But then, Kevin’s thoughts came to a screeching halt.
Why, he wondered, are Count Volkov’s paintings here? In my aunt’s lodge?
It didn’t make sense!
“And let me guess your next question, Kevin,” Aunt Carolyn said, still cloaked by the shadows. “You want to know why The Count’s paintings are here, in my lodge, right?”
“Well, yes,” Kevin admitted. “I was just thinking that, just this second.”
Aunt Carolyn’s voice lowered to a strange whisper. “So I’ll tell you why,” she said. “Because this lodge, this very same building that you’re sitting in right this moment, used to be owned by Count Volkov.”
“No!” Kevin exclaimed.
“Wow!” Jimmy said, his mouth still stuffed with popcorn.
“Kevin’s getting scared,” Becky rudely interrupted.
“I am not!” Kevin retorted.
“Watch out for the big bad vampire… Calve.”
“Shut up! And don’t call me Kevvie!”
“That’s enough of that, kids,” Aunt Carolyn went on. “But what I just told you is true. When The Count arrived in America, it was the beach right off my bluffs where he landed. And since he had the equivalent of many millions of dollars in gold bricks, the first thing he needed was a home. So he paid the local villagers to build the lodge. According to the legend, the lodge was built over a hundred years ago for the price of one single gold brick that weighed over twenty pounds.”
“That’s a lot of gold,” Jimmy said, munching more popcorn.
“It certainly is,” Aunt Carolyn responded. “Today, a standard gold brick is worth almost $200,000. And it was worth a lot more back in those days.”
Kevin’s mind reeled; he was fascinated, but his fascination had nothing to do with the amount of money it cost to build the lodge. What fascinated him was this: This is Count Volkov’s house, he thought. I’m sitting in The Count’s house right this minute!