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The Judged Dracula
Graciela was the perfect image of the bereaved widow, wailing noisily on Kelantha�s shoulder, not noticing�or more likely, wisely ignoring�the stiff lack of sympathy her companion provided, declaring how utterly inconsolable she was, how desolate, now that everything of worth had been snatched from her. The display proceeded to magnificently outdo what sorrow, feigned or otherwise, anyone else in the room could muster. Kelantha looked across the room, where I was seated silently with the archbishop, all her disgust and loathing evident in a glance no one could have possibly noticed. I would have laughed over its absurdity had another pair of dark eyes not been inquisitively bearing into me. Archbishop de Vivero had, of yet, refrained entirely from speaking, yet Mercedes observed him with curiosity as he seated himself beside me. She moved forward swiftly, placing a cup of delicate china in his hands, not making any offer to provide me with similar refreshment. Then the silence became unsettling, and might have continued indefinitely had not Enrique blandly expressed his disapproval. �Mercedes, it is well you abstain from insulting the count�s tastes, but what has the poor archbishop done? Your coffee is cold.� Her look was one of thinly veiled malice as she refrained from any response, leaving the parlor. Kelantha looked up again from her perch, watching her father as he settled down comfortably with a book. With Mercedes in the brightly-lit kitchen, and sympathy already being offered to those who needed it, he could easily return to his infinitely more diverting task. There was unspoken envy in her aspect, particularly once Graciela retrieved a pristine hankerchief, sobbing afresh at the sight of the initials in the corner. �A tragedy,� the archbishop was saying, staring down into the dark liquid in the porcelain cup as if it were something foreign, something he did not recognize. �Two lives taken in their prime.� He raised the cup mechanically, then seemed to think better of it, and placed it on the table. �And here we are again, gathering not for galas, but for funerals. What must you think of our hospitality?� �If that is your concern, you may rest easy. I have been quite taken with the hospitality of this city.� He looked at me then, wordless respect evident in his subtle smile. �A flawless answer. Are you always so wise, so guarded?� �Of course. I take great care in forming responses when calling upon insidious in-laws.� My tone was one of somber gravity, but he took it as repartee, his soft laughter somehow displaced in the parlor�s weighty atmosphere. �I see why she will never forgive you�either of you. You are too much for her. Mercedes hates Kelantha for exceeding far beyond her own narrowness�for excelling, succeeding, thriving�to such a degree that even marriage to one so unworthy of her seemed a relief. I was in Rome at the time, but I assure you, had Kelantha not ended it herself, I would have.� He paused to shake his head slightly, dismissing the memory. �I fear you have come at an unfortunate time, count. Madrid opens her arms to reveal nothing but death. Only yesterday there were two more deaths unaccounted for.� �That is most unfortunate,� I answered, my voice low with vague concern. �Do you think it possible the city is being judged?� he asked, phrasing his query carefully and keeping his eyes on the untouched coffee before him. �A taste of divine wrath, I suppose?� �No,� he said quietly, �Not all wrath is divine intervention.� The archbishop�s mild eyes met mine in that moment, and I understood fully, almost beyond any rational point, what he was so cautiously saying. He knew. In any other mortal such knowledge would have been fatal; I instantly tensed, my fingers curling until my nails were embedded in my palms, suppressing my rising anger but not diminishing it. He looked at me steadily, saying nothing except what his ineffably sad air already expressed. Kelantha glanced at us with uncertainty, seemingly uneasy with the silent duel in which we both found ourselves. �I congratulate you,� I said at length, folding my hands neatly before me, ignoring the rows of tiny arcs that pierced my palms. �You are many things, Your Grace. His Holiness must be well pleased. One wonders if you are a physician as well as a skilled scholar.� �I think,� he began delicately, �It would be best for Kelantha, for her�condition, if it is so advanced, to remove from here. If my conclusions are correct, I do not believe Madrid will be conducive to her for long.� �An intelligent deduction. What shall become of you once our plans of departure are complete?� Surprise entered his countenance, smoothing away some of the concern that aged him. �Why, I shall go on here. As I have been.� �Never to see her again,� I said pointedly. �She will be safe,� he said, spreading his hands out meaningfully. �That is all I could wish.� �And what happens when the evenings lengthen and guilt becomes your sole companion?� He turned away sharply; his voice, when it came, sounded strained. �Then I shall remember the child I once knew, and for her sake, never stop praying for the woman that has taken her place.�
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