Chapter 21 Chapter Twenty

It seems to me now, my father said, that the Catholic Church is a fitting companion for horror.Doesn’t the Catholic Church engage in the blood and flesh of Jesus’ resurrection every day?Isn't Catholicism particularly superstitious?But I will still sit in front of St. Mary's Church earlier than my hesitant guests.will she comeThat's part of the test. Thankfully, St. Mary's Church was open.It was dimly lit inside and the decor smelled of candles and dust.It was a long wait, and for the first time I felt tired after staying up all night. Finally, the ninety-year-old door was flung open, and Helen Rossi stood there hesitating, looked behind her, and stepped in.

The church undoubtedly had some power over Helen Rossi, for she walked through the bright light of the windows to the walls.I watched her take off her gloves, dip one hand in the basin, and then touch my forehead.Her posture was graceful, and from where I sat her face was dignified. Now I know that Helen Rossi is not a vampire, despite her sometimes grim, sullen complexion. When she reached the nave, she drew back in surprise when she saw me rise to my feet. "Did you bring your letter?" She whispered, her eyes accusing me, "I have to go back to the dormitory before one o'clock." She looked around.

"What's the matter?" I asked quickly, my arms tensed up instinctively.In the past two days, I seem to have developed a sick sixth sense, "Are you afraid of something?" "No," she whispered.She put the gloves together so that they were like a flower on the black coat. "I just wanted to know—did someone else come in just now?" "No." I also looked around.There was no one in the church except the lady at the altar. "Someone is following me," she said, still under her breath.Her face, wrapped in long black hair, had a strange expression of suspicion and courage.

For the first time, I wondered at what cost she had learned to have such courage. "I think he's stalking me. A small, thin man in shabby clothes—tweed jacket and green tie." "Are you sure? Where did you see him?" "It's at the directory card," she said softly, "I'll go there to see what happened to the missing directory card you said, I just don't believe it's true." She said naturally, "I Saw him there. Then, I realized he was following me, but at a distance. Do you know him?" "Yes," I said dejectedly, "he's a librarian."

"Librarian?" She seemed to be waiting for me to say something more, but I couldn't tell her about the wound on his neck.That's incredible, and she'll think I'm crazy if she wants to hear it. "He seems suspicious of my actions. You must keep away from him," I said. "I'll tell you about him later. Now sit down, relax, and read these letters." "You're right," she said. "He didn't mention anything about his mother, or the trip to Romania. You're telling the truth. I don't understand it. It must be from the same period, it must have happened when he went to Europe, because nine I was born in a month."

"I'm sorry." There was no sympathy written on her face, but I felt it. "I wish I had some clue for you here, but that's all you see. I can't explain it either." "At least we trust each other, don't we?" she said, looking straight at me. I wonder if I can feel a tinge of joy in the midst of all this pain and anxiety. "yes?" "Yes. I don't know if that Dracula thing existed, or what it was, but I believe what you said, that Rosie—my father—feeled himself in danger. He must have been He started to feel in danger before, so after reading your book, that worry came back, which, by disturbing coincidence, reminded him of the past."

"Then how do you explain his disappearance?" She shook her head. "Of course, I thought it might be a nervous breakdown. But now I understand what you mean. His letter made me feel—" She hesitated—"He was clear-headed, logical, fearless, As much as he writes. Besides, a historian's writings can tell you a lot. I know his books very well. These letters were written in a state of mental stability and clarity of mind." "Let's assume that maybe his disappearance was related to some supernatural force. In that case, what would you suggest as the next step?"

"Oh," she said slowly.Standing next to me in the dim light, she was chiseled and thoughtful, "I don't see how this assumption would help in the investigation of a civilized age. But if you follow the laws of the Dracula legend , you'd have to assume that Rosie was attacked by a vampire, or was taken somewhere. Maybe to kill him, maybe—more likely—to poison him with a vampire's curse. You know it only takes three A vampire or his disciples attack, and your blood mixes with his, and you become an immortal vampire too. If he has been bitten once, you must find him as soon as possible."

"But why didn't Dracula go anywhere, and why did he come here? Why did he kidnap Rosie? Why didn't he just attack him and turn him into a vampire? That would save so many people from being alarmed." "I don't know," she replied, shaking her head. "According to folklore, this is extremely unusual. Rosie must be—I mean, if there is anything supernatural at work—it must be Vlad Dracula who has a special interest in him, maybe Rossi was even a threat to him." "Do you think my finding the book and bringing it to Rosie has anything to do with his disappearance?"

"Logically, that's absurd. But—" She carefully folded the glove and placed it on her lap in her black dress. "Wonder if we've overlooked another source." She curled her lips. I secretly thanked her for talking about us. "What is it?" She sighed and opened the gloves, "My mother." "Your mother? But how would she know—" I was just beginning to ask the barrage of questions I wanted to ask when a sudden change in light and a breeze made me turn away.From where we sat - I chose to observe Helen from the vantage point - we could see the church door without being seen.Now, a hand protruded through the crack of the door, and then a pointed, skinny face.The odd-looking librarian was peering into the church.

I can't describe to you how I felt when the administrator's face appeared in that silent church.I suddenly felt as if I saw a pointed-nosed animal.I quietly clasped the briefcase and the pile of papers in one hand, and with the other I grabbed Helen—there was no time to ask her permission—and pulled her from the top of the bench to the aisle.There was a door open, leading to a small room ahead. This small room is dimmer than the nave of the church. I looked out the keyhole and a woman came up to him. "Help me?" she asked kindly. "Oh, I'm looking for someone." The administrator's voice was shrill, too loud in such a holy place. "I—did you see a young lady come in, in black, with long hair?" "Ah, yes." The kind lady also looked around. "The person you mentioned was here just now. She was with a young man, sitting on a bench in the back. She is definitely not here now." gone." Weasels scurried about. "Which room will she hide here?" It was obvious that he was not thinking carefully. "Hiding?" The lady in purple also came to our side. "I'm sure there's no one hiding in our church. Do you want me to see the priest? Do you need help?" The administrator backed away. "Oh, no, no, no," he said. I saw him peeking around again before leaving my sight. "He's looking for you," I whispered. "Maybe I'm looking for you." She pointed to the envelope in my hand. "I have a strange idea," I said slowly. "Maybe he knows where Rosie is." She frowned again. "All of this is inexplicable. Yes, maybe he does know," she murmured. "I can't let you just go back to the library, or your room. He's going to find you there." "You won't let me?" she repeated maliciously. "Miss Rossi, please don't do this. Do you want to be the next missing person?" She didn't speak. "So, how are you going to protect me?" There was sarcasm in her words.I thought of her strange childhood, she escaped to Hungary in her mother's womb, and also thought of her intelligent political mind, which allowed her to successfully come to the West to achieve an academic revenge.Of course, if she's telling the truth. "I've got an idea," I said slowly. "I know it's going to sound — undignified, but I'd feel better if you said yes. We can get some — wards — from the church , take it with us—" Her brows lifted. "We can get some - candles or crucifixes or something - and some garlic when we go back to - I mean back to my apartment -" Her brow was raised even higher. "I mean, if you agree to be with me - you can - I'm going on a trip tomorrow, but you can -" "Sleeping on your couch?" She put her gloves back on and folded her hands.I felt my face burning. "I can't just let you go back to your own room like this, knowing that someone might be trying to hurt you—and, of course, not going back to the library. We have more things to discuss, I think. I wonder what you think your mother—” "We can discuss it right here, right now," she said—coldly, in my voice. "As for the caretaker, I doubt he'll be able to follow my room unless—" Is there a dimple in her rigid face?Or was that just the result of her mocking smile? "Unless he turns himself into a bat. Our housemaster won't let vampires or any men into our rooms. Besides, I hope he'll follow me back to the library." "hope?" "I know he's here, in church, and won't talk to us. He's probably waiting for us outside, and I'm going to pick on him"—she was speaking that strange English again—"because he interfered My freedom in the library, and you think he'll know about me—Professor Rossi. Why not let him follow me? We can talk about my mother along the way." I must have looked more than dubious, because she burst out laughing, her teeth perfectly white and straight. "Don't worry, he won't jump on you in broad daylight, Paul."