Victor Gischler - Vampire A Go-Go

Kelley admitted he hadn’t thought about it like that.

“But the difference between dead and alive-now, that’s measurable. This brings us to option number two.” Another finger. “We create a device which brings the dead back to life. The emperor could die an infinite number of times, and always he could be brought back. In theory.” He sighed, sipped more wine.

Kelley thought about this. “What if he breaks his neck?”

Roderick looked up from his wine. “Eh? What was that?”

“If Rudolph dies from a broken neck, and you bring him back to life, then… what? He’s alive with a broken neck?”

“Oh.” Roderick scratched his beard. “Yes, I see what you mean.”

“Or if he dies of old age,” Kelley said. “You might bring him to life and then he just dies again five minutes later because he’s so old.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Then you have to consider that maybe nobody will want to bring him back,” Kelley said. “I mean, his heirs might want the throne someday, and if the man is dead, he won’t be able to bring himself back, will he?”

“Okay, now you’re just being annoying,” Roderick said. “I admit there are some minor details to work out.”

A protracted moment of silence, both men sipping wine.

“I wasn’t trying to be negative,” Kelley finally said.

“Never mind,” Roderick said.

“You know, you could probably make a fortune curing hangovers,” Kelley said.

Roderick said nothing, looked at Kelley as if he’d been examining a dog or an especially stupid child.

“That first day I met you,” Kelley explained, “you zapped me with that sunbeam through the lens. I never felt better in my life. You could go from tavern to tavern. Charge a copper a piece to put all the drunks back into shape. Probably better money than the immortality racket.”

Roderick sat straight in his chair, his eyes round and suddenly alert. “What did you say?”

“I said you could probably make better money than-”

Roderick stood abruptly, walked quickly from the room.

Kelley frowned. “Well, what the hell?”

When the astrologer failed to return, Kelley finished the jug of wine.

Kelley shrugged into his clothes the next morning and slouched toward the dungeon entrance. What would Roderick have for him today? No doubt something menial or horrifying.

Inside the castle, Kelley ran smack into a crowd of gawkers, all looking up at one of the big windows. Roderick was there, directing two workmen who stood in the window’s frame, trying to put one of the astrologer’s big lenses into place.

“Be careful, damn you!” shouted Roderick. “Put even a scratch on that, and I’ll see you hung from Powder Tower.”

“What’s all this?” Kelley gawked with the rest of them.

“I’ve been at it since dawn, Kelley,” said Roderick. “All thanks to you, don’t you know?”

“Me?”

“You reminded me about the power of sunlight,” Roderick said. “I’d been operating under the misapprehension that the stone was a chunk of the same cosmic stuff as our sun. Not at all! It is the opposite. A reflection almost.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I think we can use the stone and the sun together.” The excitement in the astrologer’s voice was barely contained. “We have to bring yin and yang together.”

“I still don’t understand.”

“Notions I brought back with me from my travels in the east,” Roderick said. “The upshot is that two sources of contradicting-yet complementary-energies must collide to create the effect we’re after. Some say the origins of the universe were created through such an act of creative violence.”

Kelley tried to keep his face neutral. “I thought God created the universe.”

Roderick cleared his throat. “Yes, of course.” He looked back up at the workmen standing in the big window. “Be ready with that lens. The sun will be right soon.” He gave Kelley a friendly slap on the shoulder. “Follow me, and I’ll demonstrate what I’ve been telling you.”

Kelley followed Roderick down the stairs into the dungeon. At the bottom of the stairs, another lens with a highly polished mirror behind it stood on an iron stand. Down the corridor where they turned the corner was yet another lens.

“These have all been placed at just the right angle,” Roderick explained.

They passed three more lenses before arriving at the room that housed the stone. A few more of Roderick’s assistants stood waiting for him, one holding a small wicker cage with a small bird flitting around inside.

Roderick took the cage, reached inside, and brought out the bird. It looked small and fragile in his fist. He handed the cage back to his assistant, then closed his other hand over the bird’s head. The bird began to twitch, its wings flailing.

Kelley flinched. “What are you doing?”

“A quick suffocation does the least damage to the body.”

At last the bird went still. Roderick took it into the stone chamber, placed it on a stool near the closed iron box. He returned, told his other assistants to get back down the hall and prepare to relay his commands. They left at a jog.

“I’ll need you on the crank, Kelley.”

Kelley pointed. “But the door’s still open.”

“Never mind that,” Roderick said. “Just make sure not to stand directly in front of the doorway. You won’t get any direct rays if you’re off to the side.”

Kelley remained dubious, but he manned the crank and waited for Roderick’s command. Nervous.

“Angle the sun lens!” Roderick shouted.

The command was relayed back down the line, loud voices echoing in the dungeon halls. There was a long pause, and then the hallway filled with light. A blue-white beam flashed past and into the chamber room. Kelley yelled and jumped back.

“Back on the crank, Kelley,” Roderick shouted. “Get to it.”

Kelley cranked, the lenses spinning within the chamber. Roderick pulled the lever, opening the iron box. An electrical crack deafened Kelley. He winced but kept cranking. Rainbow lights washed through the hall, blinked and shimmered. Kelley felt nauseous and dizzy. His teeth hummed with a sharp vibration. The dungeon had become a blinding, deafening hell.

Kelley screamed but kept cranking.

Roderick pulled the lever again to close the box. He shouted back up the hall. “Finished!”

The sunbeam cut off. The hall went dead silent.

Kelley fell backward, landed hard on his ass. He was drenched in his own sweat, panting.

“Stay here,” the astrologer said.

Roderick entered the chamber. He didn’t come back right away. Kelley stayed on the floor. His shoulders ached from cranking at such high speed. He wished somebody bright and young and pretty would rub his shoulders. He wished he was back in Ireland, wished he’d never met Dee or Roderick or come to this place. How might his life have been different if he’d really studied the sciences, gone to the university? Instead he’d picked up dribs and drabs of knowledge, bits of science and the occult. This is where it had landed him. A sad little con man turning a crank for lunatics.

Roderick emerged from the chamber, cradled something in his hands. He stood without moving, his head upturned toward the ceiling, eyes closed. A wan smile played over his face. He stayed like that for such a long time that Kelley thought there might be something wrong with him.

Roderick turned his head slowly, smiled at Kelley. He walked to the alchemist, paused a second, then sat down on the floor across from him.

“What happened?” Kelley asked.

“Look.” Roderick opened his hands.

The bird bounced into Kelley’s lap, its head twitching from side to side. It peeped, flapped its wings. Kelley looked closely. It was not a zombie. It was a live, normal bird. Kelley reached for it, but the bird spread its wings, then darted into the air and into the depths of the dungeon. Kelley looked after it, mouth agape.