24th May, 1804

The doorbell rang before dawn and Katrina rose from the bed with her heart in her throat, certain that this was the visit that she'd been dreading ever since Ichabod had been assigned to the night shift. The vision of Ichabod's departing back the previous evening was vivid in her mind, the feeling of grief that she'd had watching him go welled up inside of her again as she hurried downstairs.

Finding Ilona standing outside the front door was somewhat of a relief until she saw the other two figures waiting behind her, one of them holding a pair of boot-clad legs and the other holding a pair of arms all belonging to Ichabod. Ichabod's eyes were closed, his head lolled to one side, his face deathly pale in the moonlight.

"He has only fainted, Katrina," Ilona quickly reassured her, taking her by the arm. "He is unharmed."

Katrina's entire body was trembling and she was grateful for her friend's supportive arm. She beckoned to the two men to come in, immediately understanding what must have happened, and pointed them toward the parlor, catching a glimpse of Stephen standing at the bottom of the stairs out of the corner of her eye.

"What we have feared has come sooner rather than later, Stephen. Ichabod has seen them. Would you go up to Elizabeth's room and make sure she didn't wake up? If she's awake please stay with her and don't allow her to come downstairs."

He turned and scaled the stairs two at a time. Katrina hurried into the parlor after Ilona and the two men, shutting the door behind her. They had already removed Ichabod's uniform jacket and stretched him out on the sofa. She hurried over and took a seat on the edge of the sofa, removing his cravat and unbuttoning his waistcoat and shirt from the neck down to allow him to breathe more easily.

"Poor Ichabod," she whispered, gazing down at his frighteningly pale visage.

Ilona quickly explained what had occurred. Katrina thanked her and the two men for bringing him safely home then escorted them to the door. She and Ilona embraced briefly before the three of them departed into the pre-dawn dimness.

When she returned to the parlor she discovered Ichabod beginning to stir. A soft moan escaped his lips. She sat on the edge of the sofa again and gently took his hand. His eyelids fluttered open; he drew in a deep breath then bolted up to sitting with a gasp, his eyes glazed, wild. He opened his mouth as if to speak but only a stream of unintelligible sounds came out. He seemed unable to form words.

Only with great effort did she manage to control and curb her own panic. She kept her voice even, speaking to him in soothing tones and desperately trying to calm him. With firm hands she encouraged him to lie down, coaxing him to settle into the pillows. But he struggled, unwilling to lie down, writhing frenziedly against her grasp, unable to keep still, continuing to rant hysterically. She suddenly grew uncertain of how aware of her presence he even was. Even when his wild-eyed gaze turned in her direction he seemed to be looking through her without seeing her.

"Oh dear God…!" were the first actual words he managed to utter.

"I know," she whispered, reaching out to grasp his shoulder again.

"You don't know! You couldn't possibly know!" Ichabod cried out wildly, eluding her grasp once more. "You weren't there!"

"Ichabod…"

"But I…I…saw it…" he sputtered weakly, then his eyes rolled and with a long sigh he sank back onto the sofa in a swoon.

A sob rose up in her throat and she burst into tears.

"Katrina?" Stephen had entered the parlor.

"Stephen, is Elizabeth…?"

"Anna's awake. I asked her to stay with Elizabeth and keep her away from the parlor." He approached the sofa and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "That way I can remain with you."

She cried out and turned to him, pulling him into an embrace. "Thank you."

"It will be alright," he soothed, hugging her. "This isn't the first time we've seen him like this. He came out of it when it happened in Sleepy Hollow. And he'll come out of it now. I know he will."

Katrina released him and nodded. Stephen was no doubt correct. And though Ichabod was still in a state of shock at least he had managed to respond to her sentence; even if it was only to insist that she didn't know.

"I'll help you bring him upstairs," he offered.

"Thank you," she murmured. She stood and moved to the other end of the sofa, removed his boots then they lifted him up and carried him upstairs to their bedroom.

"Would you go to the Watch House and tell the High Constable that he returned home ill this morning and will not be in tonight?" she asked when they'd stretched him out on the bed.

"Yes, I'll go now and leave word."

"You should wait until the sun is up."

"I'm protected," he reminded her, reaching down and pulling from under his shirt the crucifix that he wore on a heavy chain around his neck. "I have this and Nicholas gave me…I don't know what it is exactly. It's a small pouch with a powdered mixture of some sort to carry with me for more protection."

"The same powder Ilona used probably. It has garlic in it."

"Is that what the smell is?"

She laughed. "Yes. It certainly is pungent."

"It would be better if I went now. He ended his shift early and they may have already noticed that he is not…where he is supposed to be. The sooner I tell them…"

"You're right. Thank you, Stephen."

"At least tomorrow is Saturday and he won't have to be in for two nights after this."

He shut the door behind him as he left the bedroom and Katrina began to remove Ichabod's pants, his waistcoat and his fine white shirt. His waistcoat felt heavier than it should have and she realized that there was a book in the pocket. Even before she looked at it she realized that it was A Compendium of Spells, Charms and Devices of the Spirit World, the book that she'd given to him in Sleepy Hollow and which he continued to keep close to his heart. Despite her distress she smiled at that moment.

She left the pile of clothing on the chair in the room and went back to the bed, drawing the covers up around him and leaning over to kiss him tenderly. Then she removed her robe and climbed into bed beside him, slipping her arms around him and holding him close.

oooOooo

At about nine o'clock in the morning the doorbell rang again. Katrina sat up quietly and slipped out of bed, glancing at Ichabod who lay unmoving. The knock on the bedroom door came five minutes later, as she was dressing.

"Just a moment," she called out softly.

Standing in front of the mirror she hurriedly brushed and arranged her hair, then went to open the door. Stephen stood in the hallway.

"Doctor Camden is here to see Ichabod. He said it was important."

"Oh…yes. He's the one who has been working on this…case…with Ichabod…alright, I'll go and speak with him," she said, flustered. She glanced back into the room at Ichabod, who didn't look as if he'd wake up any time soon.

"Anna took Elizabeth shopping with her," Stephen told her. "Would you like me to sit in here with him while you're downstairs, just in case he wakes up?"

"Yes, that would…thank you, Stephen. I'd prefer that he not wake up alone. Is there any coffee by any chance?"

"It's keeping warm in the kitchen. I made a lot."

"Good."

She left him in their bedroom, sitting in the armchair by the fireplace, and went downstairs, stopping in the kitchen to pour the coffee into a large silver carafe. She set the carafe, two clean cups and saucers, a bowl of sugar and a small pitcher of cream on a tray and carried it to the parlor where Doctor Camden waited. The first thing she noticed was the ugly bruise on his left cheek. The next thing she noticed was that he was quite young-looking, with intelligent, piercing eyes and a kind face.

"Good morning," she greeted him, carrying the tray over to the low coffee table and setting it down. "I'm Katrina Crane."

Suppressing an expression of surprise he stepped toward her and held out his hand, introducing himself as Doctor Peter Camden. She shook his hand then sat down before the coffee table, gesturing for him to have a seat in the chair opposite her.

"How do you take your coffee?" she asked, picking up the carafe and taking one of the cups and saucers.

"Two lumps of sugar, no cream. Thank you. I… Forgive me for my surprise…I did not expect to be served by the lady of the house."

Katrina relaxed and smiled at him warmly. "It's been a rather chaotic morning, since very early. Today Anna is kindly adding babysitting to the other tasks she does. So I am filling in where I can."

She spooned the sugar into his cup, stirred it and handed it to him then went about pouring a badly-needed cup for herself.

"Stephen said that you had something important to discuss with Ichabod," she said after she had taken several sips of coffee. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid he returned from work unwell early this morning and he cannot see you right now. I regret that you made the trip here for nothing. Perhaps I can pass along a message to him and when he's feeling better he can contact you to arrange another meeting."

"He is unwell, you say?"

"Yes."

The physician looked troubled. "I was with him yesterday afternoon and I was quite concerned about him then. Perhaps I should check on him…"

"That won't be necessary, Doctor Camden. But thank you…"

"Lady Crane, I don't wish to alarm you but many of the victims of this epidemic have very specific wounds and I'd like to…"

"Yes, I know about the wounds. Ichabod does not have them. I've confirmed that."

"Oh," he replied, looking somewhat taken aback. "Good."

He picked up his cup and took a sip of coffee, studying her quietly.

"Ichabod told me that something happened in Grace Bartlett's home yesterday, something that he had no awareness of, that he has no memory of. He said that you were going to explain."

"That is why I'm here," he replied with a nod. "And there is something else that I need to…"

"Will you explain it to me?"

"I...honestly I don't know that I should."

"You don't wish to upset me. I appreciate that but I assure you that even if what you say does upset me I will be alright. Certainly I will be no worse off. Ichabod was terribly disturbed when he arrived home in the cab with you yesterday, and his mood did not improve as the evening went on. In fact he grew more agitated and out of sorts as the hours passed. So, you see, Doctor, I am already upset and worried about him. If I can learn what happened at least I won't be in the dark, too."

Doctor Camden set his cup and saucer down on the table. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, raked his fingers through his hair, clearly still worried about the impact his words would have and at a loss as to how to begin. She decided to aid him.

"There is a theory that the wounds are bite marks."

"Did your husband mention that to you?" he exclaimed.

She nodded, though that wasn't exactly true. She simply wanted to make him aware that she knew more than he realized. "Bite marks from a parasite."

"Yes, that is my theory. Not wishing to frighten you…"

"I've already seen these parasites. You will not frighten me by talking about them."

He stared at her incredulously. "I see. Very well, then, I have seen them, too. I saw Grace Bartlett, who is one of them, as outrageous as that seems. I've known her for a very long time. It never in a million years occurred to me that she would be something other than…well, a lovely young woman who happened to move in some of the same social circles that I do. She was going to kill your husband in her parlor, but I arrived at the house and entered the parlor in time to prevent it. I distracted her before she could bite him."

Katrina bit her lip and sank back in her seat, nodding. "I knew…something…something like that had happened."

"I hope I haven't distressed you too much."

"It was not unexpected."

"Well, I am sorry if I have."

"Yesterday afternoon I checked Ichabod's neck and the rest of his body while he was sleeping because I was afraid…his clothing was in such disarray when he got out of the cab."

"I checked him as well, in the cab. He was clear."

"They...I know that they bite their…victims'…necks so that they can drink the blood. But…the state that Ichabod was in yesterday, his mood…and based on some of what he said and the fact that he has no memory…it occurred to me that perhaps he'd somehow been attacked mentally."

Doctor Camden nodded. "He looked as if he was under some sort of spell. I suppose that one could say it was an attack on his mind. There is a belief that some predators can mesmerize their prey. Some scientists say snakes do this. These creatures that we're encountering likely, in my opinion, have this ability to somehow mesmerize and incapacitate their prey. Yes, Grace Bartlett did this sort of thing to your husband. When I walked into the parlor he was entranced, unaware of what was happening. That is why he has no memory of her attempting to kill him. As far as the appearance of his clothing, she removed his cravat and unbuttoned his coat and shirt in order to bare his neck. He was unaware of that, too. He tried to rearrange himself before he left the cab…"

"Thank you," she said softly, feeling an odd sense of relief. "It is much better to know no matter how disturbing…thank you for telling me."

"If I've unburdened you at all, I'm glad."

They were silent for a time and Katrina finished drinking her coffee. She refilled his cup then poured another cup for herself.

Then he began to chuckle softly, suddenly. She looked at him in confusion.

"I suspect you know much more about this than I do, Lady Crane, and more than your husband. Last time I spoke with Constable Crane he was not completely convinced that this was a blood-drinking parasite. I'm surprised that he would even repeat this theory to you, since he didn't believe it."

"He didn't repeat it. He didn't speak of it at all. As I said, I've already seen them. Although…Ichabod doesn't know that yet…I have not had the chance to tell him. I have a friend who is…she knows about these beings and informed me about the details. She calls them kalandornô. It's a Magyar word. Vampire is the closest word I can come up with in English."

"Magyar?" he repeated.

"Yes. I'm not familiar with where she is from…"

"Hungary."

"What?"

"Magyar is the Hungarian word for Hungarian. Your friend is Hungarian."

"Do you speak the language?" Katrina exclaimed, astonished.

"No, but I'm familiar with some Hungarian words. Such as the word Magyar," he laughed. "My father and my maternal grandfather both…conducted business…in the Kingdom of Hungary. I was born here in New York but I went with my parents several times when they returned to Europe to visit."

"Do you still go back?"

"I don't care for boats, and it is a long journey over the ocean each way. As much as I enjoyed Europe very much I despised the voyage itself. It would take a lot to convince me to suffer that trip again, even in one direction. Besides, my grandparents and parents have passed away and their Hungarian friends and colleagues were their friends and colleagues, not mine."

"What business were they in?"

"To be honest it was never made clear to me. I have no idea."

Katrina stared at him wide-eyed, wondering how someone could have no idea what members of their own family did to earn a living.

"You find that strange. But my family was that way…they were very secretive. Whatever my father did he earned enough money to provide for my education, all the way through medical school. And he chose to forego one of his…business…trips so that he could attend my graduation. He was very proud of me."

"I cannot imagine that he wouldn't be."

He smiled warmly at her.

"Your parents were from England?"

"Peter Camden Senior, my father, was. My mother was Teresa Vaccaro from Napoli…Naples. My father traveled all over Europe. At some point he went to Naples to do business with my grandfather and met my mother. He fell in love with both her and her country, and married both. I don't think he ever went back to England again. And when we journeyed across the ocean it was to return to Naples, my mother's home and my father's adopted home. I've never been to England. Naples was always where we settled for the long term, and we would travel to other places from there."

Katrina's curiosity was piqued. "I don't suppose you know what made them decide to move here. It seems to me that they would have wanted to remain in Naples."

"No, I don't know. That was as much a secret as everything else."

"Did you visit Hungary a lot?"

"Both my father and grandfather adored Hungary and the Hungarian people. And there was much about the Kingdom of Naples that their Hungarian friends appreciated as well. I don't know nearly as much about Hungary as my father and grandfather but I did have the opportunity to visit a few times. It's quite lovely."

"Do you speak…?"

"Neapolitan, yes. My mother spoke it to me all the time, when we were alone. We didn't make it known generally. After all I was an American boy, born in the New World. But my mother wanted me to have a connection to that part of my heritage, so she made sure I had it."

"That's wonderful. And it meant that you could speak with your grandparents when you went to visit."

"My grandfather spoke several languages, including English, so I could have spoken to him anyway. But I'm grateful to my mother for giving me the language…and the food too, of course. I shall have to invite your family to dinner some time. Anthony is a wonderful cook, who continues to prepare Neapolitan dishes for me all the time. He worked for my mother's family and she insisted on keeping him in our employ when she and my father came to America."

"Thank you. That would be lovely. Perhaps Anthony would be willing to teach me some recipes…if we like the food."

"Neapolitan food is delicious, and I will be amazed and a little bit disappointed if you don't like it."

She smiled at him.

"Perhaps I can speak with your Hungarian friend too. You mentioned that she knows quite a bit about these creatures. I am involved in your husband's investigation, after all. I should like to know as much about what I am dealing with as possible."

"Yes. You and Ichabod should both speak with her at this point."

"How did she come to know so much about them?"

"That is a long and somewhat hard to explain story, which perhaps she should tell you herself."

"Oh. I see," he finally said after a long pause. "I should definitely like to speak with her then."

"If you and Ichabod do meet with Ilona to discuss it I would very much like to participate."

They finished their coffee and Katrina walked with him to the door. He offered his hand again and she shook it.

"Please contact me at the Columbia College of Medicine if your husband needs any medical attention. I shall come immediately."

"I will. Thank you. And I'm certain Ichabod will contact you himself as soon as he is well to arrange another meeting. It was a pleasure to meet you, Doctor Camden."

"The pleasure was mine, Lady Crane. I enjoyed talking with you. And I thank you for the coffee."

oooOooo

After lunch Katrina went upstairs to rest, tired after having risen so early that day. When later that afternoon Ichabod's eyes finally fluttered open and he drifted awake she was lying next to him, watching him with apprehension. But he didn't jerk or cry out or begin to rant. He lay there quietly, staring at her.

"Katrina?" he finally murmured softly.

She nearly burst into tears. "Ichabod. Are you alright?"

"Yes, I…" He paused. "How long have I been…?"

"Since early this morning," she replied, reaching out and gently placing a hand on his arm.

"I remember waking briefly in the parlor…forgive me…I have no idea what I said to you…"

"You were simply trying to explain what you saw, with difficulty. You did not attack or insult me, if that is what you are worried about."

Ichabod fell silent again and his eyes became distant. Katrina stroked his arm lightly, saying nothing, allowing him the time and space to remember and recover.

"Katrina," he said after some time. "I don't know if I was…I thought I saw Ilona Vajda last night."

Katrina nodded. "You did. She brought you home. Two of her friends were with her…they carried you."

"I…see. Who is she? I mean, who is she really? I've never in my life seen…" He trailed off and shook his head. "Katrina, if I told you what I saw…"

"I will believe you, Ichabod."

His eyes met hers. "Yes," he murmured. "Of that I have no doubt. It is more that you will say I told you so…you certainly have every right to…"

"No, I will say no such thing to you."

"I'm a fool. I should have listened to you," he lamented. "And I shouldn't have dismissed Ilona Vajda or her explanation. She is your friend and it was rude for me to be so disparaging toward her."

She raised herself up on an elbow and leaned over, kissing him tenderly on the lips. He reached up and stroked her cheek gently, wiping away a tear that she didn't realize had spilled.

"You're crying."

"I'm relieved that you're alright, that's all."

He opened his arms, beckoning, and she settled down into his embrace, resting her head on his chest, listening to his heart beat. His arms tightened around her. She rested a hand on his stomach.

"I can only imagine the state I was in…" he said with a melancholy sigh. "I hope…did Elizabeth see me?"

"No. We kept her busy. She will be very happy to see her Papa at dinner, though, if you feel well enough to join us."

"Yes, of course."

"I sent Stephen to the Watch House very early to tell them you returned home ill this morning and that you would not be in tonight. I wasn't certain you would be well enough…and I think it would do you good to rest."

"Thank you. It would do me good to rest."

But she thought he sounded dejected. "Surely they cannot penalize you for being ill."

"No, I don't think they will. But that isn't what…I do not wish to give in to my fears. It would be so easy…to just never go out there again, especially at night."

"Ichabod," she began softly. She lifted her head, her gaze met his. "What you saw…what you experienced…was terrible and shocking. Of course you will need time to make sense of it, and to recover. But it will pass. You will face your fears, just as you did in Sleepy Hollow when you encountered something as shocking as this, and you will continue to do the work that you are determined to do."

"You speak as if you know what I saw."

"I do…" She averted her eyes then added quickly, "Ilona explained what happened when they brought you home."

When she raised her gaze to meet his again he was staring at her, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Hmm…I see. Why do I have the feeling that you know much more about all of this than I should like?"

"Doctor Camden was here this morning," Katrina told him, shifting the focus of the conversation.

He groaned and muttered an oath.

"What is it? He seems to be a very nice man."

"Yes, he is. He was going to explain what happened to me…but now that has been delayed again. Although…after what I saw last night I've a feeling I know what the explanation will be anyway."

"I told him that you would contact him as soon as you are feeling well. I'm certain you can make another appointment very soon. When I told him you were ill he offered to look after you, so he may even be available this evening."

"As soon as I get out of bed I shall write to him."

"He likes you. And he has a lot of respect for you."

"You ascertained all of that when he came to the door this morning?"

"I thought it only right that I serve him coffee after he made the trip. We talked for a little while."

A look of dismay flickered across his face. "Did he…say anything?"

"About what?" she asked.

"I…" Ichabod trailed off and shook his head, shifting out from under her and raising himself up to sitting. "Nothing. Never mind, it is not important. It must be nearly time for dinner. I'm going to write to Doctor Camden now."

Katrina sat up beside him and reached out to touch his shoulder. He turned to her.

"We shall continue our prior conversation afterward, my love," he chided, his tone both stern and affectionate, and he brushed her nose with the tip of his index finger for emphasis. "You must know that I am well aware that whenever you change the subject in that way it is because you are deliberately trying to distract me. Perhaps you forgot."

"I haven't forgotten," she sighed. "I simply didn't want to distress you further."

"You've seen them," he stated.

"Yes."

He studied her intently for a few moments. "If I had to venture a guess it was on the night that Stephen found you and Ilona Vajda putting protection on the house at three o'clock in the morning."

She leaned over and threw her arms around his neck. "Ichabod, I…it's not that I…"

"I know," he said very softly, slipping his arms around her. "You were trying to tell me when I came home that morning and I wouldn't let you. I wasn't…I didn't know what you were going to say to me then but I knew it was something that I wasn't ready to hear yet." He buried his face in her shoulder then and groaned. "Oh, Katrina, everything feels as if it is completely out of my control. I feel...awful."

Katrina held him tightly. Grace Bartlett had attempted to do something to Ichabod, to his body, without his permission, without his awareness. And she'd invaded his mind. She wished she could explain to him that she understood how terribly violated he must be feeling; but that would mean revealing to him that Doctor Camden had already recounted the incident to her. He would only feel more distressed and betrayed.

"Ichabod, I know that these past few days have been dismal." She kissed his brow and stroked his hair tenderly. "But you don't have to cope with everything at once, and you don't have to do so alone."

oooOooo

"We have much to discuss, Constable Crane," Doctor Camden began when they were settled at the coffee table in the parlor and Anna had left, shutting the doors behind her. He picked up his cup and saucer and took a sip of coffee before continuing. "But before I start I must disclose something to you. When I came here this morning to see you as planned your wife served me coffee and remained to speak with me. She was quite worried about you and wished for me to tell her what happened to you yesterday."

Ichabod flinched inwardly. "Yes, I was afraid of that. And…you told her."

"At first I resisted," he said earnestly. He paused and averted his gaze for a minute. Then he looked Ichabod in the eye and admitted, "She convinced me otherwise."

"That is not surprising," he replied with a sigh.

"I'm sorry, Constable. She was extremely distressed over you and she insisted that not knowing was making it worse. I…I wanted to ease her mind…"

He sighed again. "I do wish you had told me first." He paused and stared pensively into his cup of coffee for a few moments, frowning. After some time he looked up and addressed the doctor again. "But, it no longer matters, as it happens. During my shift I had the misfortune of encountering one of these creatures. I saw it attack the man who was with me. And I realize exactly what happened to me in Grace Bartlett's parlor. What I don't understand is how she managed to fail."

"What do you mean?"

He took several sips of coffee, stalling.

"This will not be easy for me, Doctor Camden," he said finally, but began to explain everything that occurred after he left the Watch House with James Leeds in the middle of the night.

"When I saw the way this creature had entranced Mr. Leeds I understood that this is what Grace Bartlett had likely done to me," he told him after concluding his story. "But…it was a matter of moments. He was at the other end of the block when we turned onto Coenties Slip, and then literally a second later he was three feet away from me and he had already stupefied Mr. Leeds."

"And the others appeared just as he was about to bite Mr. Leeds, the same way I entered the parlor just before Grace Bartlett was going to bite you."

"Yes. But…this was a matter of seconds. Although I…I was unaware of much of what was happening I do know that I was with Grace Bartlett, alone with her, for far longer than merely seconds. Why did it take her so long? How is it that she didn't get round to even attempting to bite my neck until much later, when you finally arrived? Do you see my point? The pace at which she operated was infinitely slower. Why?"

"That…is an interesting question, Constable, and one I'm afraid I cannot answer. Perhaps the friend that your wife mentioned could provide insight. It could be a matter of different capabilities between individual creatures, or perhaps it is simply the fact that she is female. But, Grace Bartlett had the same long pointed teeth that you describe, fangs that are clearly used to make the type of puncture wounds we've been seeing and to draw out the victims' blood. My guess is that these creatures are able to keep these fangs receded in their mouths until they need to use them, similar to the way cats can bare and retract their claws. It would explain why no one ever noticed anything out of the ordinary about her. But her specialized teeth were bared when I walked into the parlor."

"Katrina told you about Ilona Vajda?"

"She didn't tell me her name, but yes, she did say that she had a friend who knew a lot about these creatures, and who could perhaps provide information. I should like to speak with her, if she would be willing. Lady Crane also seems to know quite a bit about it…"

"Unfortunately." He paused, thinking of the discussion he and Katrina had after dinner. "Ilona Vajda, according to Katrina, calls herself a huntress. She is the one that killed the creature I saw. She specifically hunts these…Katrina refers to them as vampires."

"Apparently the word her friend uses is kalandornô."

Ichabod stared at him. "I see that the two of you spoke quite a bit."

"We spoke a little bit about them. She told me that she had already seen them."

"Well then, we shall have to meet with Miss Vajda together. And with Katrina, who will insist on being present," he sighed.

"So Miss Vajda…this entire group of people roams the streets at night looking for these creatures and destroying them? Perhaps we have nothing to contribute and it would be better if we let these hunters simply do their job."

"I am certain that we still have much to contribute, Doctor Camden. The culprits are still living beings to some degree, beings with bodies that need sustenance and that can be killed. With your medical and scientific knowledge you will no doubt provide much-needed insight. And I…I am still dealing with murders, though the assassins are a different type of creature. And that is…" he trailed off.

"Your expertise," Doctor Camden finished for him.

He nodded. "Besides, I am not certain that it is wise to allow an independent group of lawless so-called hunters to roam about the streets freely. Their targets are these creatures, but what if they accidently kill an innocent citizen? They are operating within the terms of their own…self-defined rules and laws. And problems could arise in a situation like that."

"You told me the other day about a young boy that was about to plunge a wooden stake into one of the bodies. I suppose he is one of them too?"

"Nicholas Székely," Ichabod said with a nod. "Miss Vajda is friends with his family."

"Székely," he repeated curiously. "Interesting."

"They live a few doors away. Our boy Stephen is friends with Nicholas. Do you know them?"

"No, but the Székelys are a people of Transylvania."

"Do you mean they are a famous family?"

"Not just a family, a people. The way the French or the Dutch or the Turks are a people. They were warriors who defended the eastern borders of the Kingdom of Hungary against the Ottomans a few hundred years or so ago. This family could be descendants of those people. It is very likely, in fact. The Székelys were excellent warriors, considered among the best."

"Miss Vajda told us that both she and the Székely family are from a place called Erdély."

Doctor Camden smiled. "Erdély is what the Hungarians call Transylvania."

"How is it that you know so much about it?"

"Lady Crane did not tell you about our conversation?"

Ichabod shook his head. "She said very little about it. I am guessing that she did not want to reveal to me that you had already told her about my…experience in Grace Bartlett's parlor."

He listened fascinated as Doctor Camden told him of his travels all over Europe with his English father and Neapolitan mother, about Hungary and about Transylvania, the place where Ilona and her friends came from. Transylvania was a region that had been considered a part of the Kingdom of Hungary for a long time, but there were various groups of people living there - Vlachs, Romanians, Hungarians including the Hungarian Székelys, Saxons, many others. There was apparently much tension between them and a large number of macabre stories of the place existed.

"Yes, Miss Vajda already told us one of those macabre stories," Ichabod told him. "A bizarre story about a countess who tortured people and drank their blood…"

"Countess Zsófia. I know her story. She was tried for her crimes, found guilty and sentenced to death. But apparently the history did not end when she was put to death. There is extensive folklore that says that she continued to rise from the grave, to continue to feed on the blood of the living. People claimed to have seen her roaming about after she died. I must say I never credited that part of it as anything more than local myth. However, now I cannot help but see the similarities to the phenomena we're seeing here in New York. I suppose that is why Miss Vajda shared such a gruesome history with you."

Ichabod nodded. "She immediately made the connection and wanted to inform me."

Doctor Camden's eye started to twitch and he suddenly seemed to be having difficulty sitting still. He leaned forward and set his cup and saucer down on the tray that Anna had left on the table. "Perhaps that was the local people's way of explaining the origin of these creatures. And Countess Zsófia was one of them."

"That is a possibility. At any rate I do not believe that Countess Zsófia herself has come to New York. And if she has, I am quite certain that she and the others who may have accompanied her weren't instantly transplanted all the way from Transylvania to New York."

"No, they would have had to travel here. We are speaking of parasites who look human, who are able to blend in with humans. And they seem to move around in the same manner as we do, though they have the ability to do so much faster from what you saw last night. No doubt they would have had to come here by boat and they would have needed to eat. With nowhere to go in search of food they would have likely fed on the other passengers around them. Someone might have noticed that something was wrong."

"If there were survivors from the journey," Ichabod pointed out. "Still, it may be worthwhile to investigate passenger manifests of ships arriving here in the past year. Perhaps there were an unusual number of deaths on a particular journey, which were simply dismissed as an epidemic on the ship. People do grow ill on sea journeys. Though, I wonder what provoked them to come here."

"Well, it's plausible that these creatures all originated from one specific place, possibly Transylvania, and migrated here because their food supply ran out. Though why they chose to cross an ocean to come here is beyond me. They had the entire continent of Europe, after all."

"The extensive lore about the countess has been passed down for hundreds of years, and includes methods to protect oneself from their attacks as well as ways to kill them. I now know that at least one of those methods for killing them is effective. Perhaps these creatures found that they were suddenly living in a place where they could no longer feed on their prey because their prey had figured out how to protect themselves. More than that, they realized that they now had predators, for there were suddenly people like Miss Vajda and the Székelys who knew how to kill them and were hunting them."

"Maybe they felt that another part of Europe wasn't far enough away. But of course now Miss Vajda and the Székelys have followed them here anyway."

"Yes."

Ichabod absentmindedly took a sip of his coffee, noticed it had grown cold, set the cup and saucer down on the table and leaned back.

"No," he said suddenly, remembering. "I forgot that Miss Vajda did not come here directly from Transylvania. She lived in Rhode Island for a few years before she came to New York."

"It would actually be interesting to study Miss Vajda's family tree. You see, the name Vajda is the Hungarian variation of voivode, which means leader, and is a title of the Transylvanian barons. In Magyar, or Hungarian, they would say erdélyi vajda. I wonder if she is a descendant of Transylvanian nobility. Perhaps she is even a descendant of the countess herself. That would throw an interesting light on the particular…profession…she has chosen."

"I see," Ichabod replied, staring at him in wonder. "Doctor Camden, in addition to quite a bit of knowledge about the region you seem to have an extensive talent for languages. How many do you speak?"

"I'm fluent in Neapolitan as well as English. And of course when one travels one picks up at least a little of the language of the place. I've picked up some French, some German. And some Hungarian, but that is a very difficult language. I do find languages fascinating."

They both fell silent then. Doctor Camden picked up his cup and saucer again, took a sip, winced then set the cup and saucer back down. Ichabod noticed and leaned forward, picking up the carafe that Anna had left. He refilled both of their cups with hot coffee then set the carafe down.

"Thank you." Doctor Camden spooned sugar into his cup and stirred. "Grace Bartlett claims that she saw her fiancé after he died. And in fact on that evening that I first discovered the wounds on her neck there were several other people at the same party claiming to have seen their dead loved ones as well, outside of their windows."

"Yes, I…you wrote to me of it. I had forgotten. The past few days have been quite confusing and distressing."

"If we were to accept that people really did see the countess and her victims after they died because they actually rose from the grave, and if we were to accept that when the countess killed her victims she passed on her blood lust, which survived even after her death; if we were to therefore accept that all these things can be true then isn't it possible that Grace Bartlett was human but was somehow changed when her fiancé visited her after his death? Perhaps he is the one who bit her. She didn't die from the wounds immediately but she was somehow changed."

"So, her fiancé was bitten, died and turned into one of these creatures. Then he returned from the grave, bit her and changed her."

"Perhaps it is their way of reproducing."

"Rather than bearing children…interesting."

"It would also explain the disappearing bodies," Doctor Camden added with a shudder. "That first woman we operated on disappeared and the very next day two doctors were killed at the school."

"You mean that they are literally getting up and walking away."

"That prospect is terrifying to me, I must say."

"To me as well," Ichabod sighed. He picked up his cup and saucer. "You know," he began again thoughtfully after taking a few sips, "I drew a sketch of one of the victims, a young boy that was discovered by two other constables yesterday morning. Perhaps we ought to make a habit of sketching the victims' faces."

"May I see the sketch that you drew?"

"Certainly," he replied, setting his cup and saucer on the table again then rising to his feet. "I shall be back in a moment."

Both Stephen and Katrina were in the sitting room when he entered.

"Is Doctor Camden gone?"

He shook his head. "There is a sketch I drew in my ledger that he asked to see."

"I put your ledger in the desk drawer earlier."

"Thank you," he said, retrieving it. He paused on his way out and turned back. "Katrina, I…both Doctor Camden and I feel that it would be helpful for us to meet with Miss Vajda."

"Would you like me to write to her?"

"Yes. Thank you. I would do it, but it is probably better coming from you. Perhaps this weekend…sooner would be better than later…"

"Of course," she replied. "I'll send a message to her now and extend an invitation for tomorrow."

Ichabod returned to the parlor and showed Doctor Camden the sketch that he had drawn of the young boy that Constables White and Thompson brought to the Watch House the previous morning.

"Ah, yes," he said, staring at the page. "They brought him in yesterday evening. This is a wonderful likeness, Constable Crane."

"Yesterday evening? The body was brought to the Watch House early yesterday morning."

"Well, it was nearly seven o'clock in the evening when they arrived. The results of the examination were the same, including the absence of livor mortis, even after all those hours."

"As I expected," Ichabod replied absently, preoccupied and wondering why Constables White and Thompson had waited nearly twelve hours to bring the body to the medical school. He shook his head slowly. "I don't understand why they waited so long before bringing the body to you. When I returned to the Watch House at eight o'clock in the morning yesterday they were there already, with the body. They ought to have brought it to you within the hour, and yet it was nearly seven o'clock in the evening…do you know who brought it?"

Doctor Camden shook his head. "I didn't see them. Doctor Jessop met whoever brought it to the school and the body was then brought to me. Going forward I will sketch the faces. I suppose the other next step is to meet with your wife's friend, Miss Vajda."

"Yes, Katrina is writing to her now. Hopefully we'll be able to meet this weekend. I shall contact you as soon as we hear from her."

"My schedule is flexible this weekend."

"Alright, I will send a message noting the day and time." Ichabod leaned back in his chair and stared into space for a time, troubled. He shook his head again. "I still cannot reconcile the long delay in them bringing that body to the medical school."