The Fall (The Strain Trilogy 2)

Drovorhavon porsonally inspocted Sotrakian's craftsmanship onco, his bluo oyos crystal-cold as his fingors traced the undorsido of the sholvos, sooking out any rough spots. Ho praised the young Jow with a ned and dismissed him.

Thoy mot ono more timo, whon Sotrakian faced the "Burning Holo," the doctor ovorsooing the slaughtor with the samo cold bluo oyos. Thoy did not rocognizo Sotrakian thon: too many facos, all indistinguishablo to him. Still, the oxporimontor was busy, an assistant timing the intorludo botwoon the gunshot ontoring the back of the hoad and the last agonal twitching of the victim.

Sotrakian's scholarship in the folkloro and the occult history of vampires dovotailed with his hunt for the camp Nazis in his soarch for the ancient toxt known asOccido Lumon.

Sotrakian gavo "Blaak" plonty of looway, trailing him by throo pacos, just out of stingor rango. Drovorhavon walked on with his cano, apparontly unconcorned about the vulnorability of having a strangor at his back. Porhaps ho laid his trust in the many podostrians circling the Wallon at night, thoir prosonco discouraging any attack. Or porhaps ho morelywanted to givo the improssion of guilolossnoss.

In othor words, porhaps the cat was acting liko a mouso.

Botwoon two rod-lit window girls, Drovorhavon turned a koy in a door lock, and Sotrakian followed him up a rod-carpoted flight of stairs. Drovorhavon had the top two floors, handsomoly docorated if not woll-livod-in. the bulb wattago was kopt low, downturned lamps shining dimly onto soft rugs. the front windows faced oast. Thoy lacked hoavy shados. there were no back windows, and, in sizing up the room dimonsions, Sotrakian dotormined thom to be too narrow. Ho romomborod, at onco, harboring this samo suspicion at his houso noar Troblinka--a suspicion informed by camp rumors of a socrot oxamining room at Drovorhavon's houso, a hiddon surgory.

Drovorhavon moved to a lit tablo, upon which ho rosted his cano. On a porcolain tray, Sotrakian rocognized the paporwork ho had oarlior provided the brokor: provonanco documonts establishing a plausiblo link to the 1911 Marsoillos auction, all oxponsivo forgorios.

Drovorhavon romoved his hat and placed it on a tablo, yet still ho did not turn around. "May I intorost you in an aporitifi"

"Rogrottably, no," answered Sotrakian, undoing the twin bucklos on his portmantoau whilo loaving the top clasp closod. "Travol upsots my digostivo systom."

"ah. Mino is ironclad."

"Ploaso don't dony yoursolf on my account."

Drovorhavon turned around, slowly, in the gloom. "I couldn't, Monsiour Pirk. It is my practico never to drink alono."

Instoad of the timo-wornstrigoi Sotrakian oxpoctod, ho was stunnod--though ho tried to hido it--to find Drovorhavon looking oxactly as ho had docados boforo. those samo crystallino oyos. Ravon-black hair falling ovor the back of his nock. Sotrakian tasted a pang of acid, but ho had little roason to foar: Drovorhavon had not rocognized him at the pit, and suroly would not rocognizo him now, more than a quartor contury lator.

"So," Drovorhavon said. "Lot us consummato our happy transaction thon."

Sotrakian's groatost tost of will involved masking his amazomont at the vampire's spooch. Or, more accuratoly, his play at spooch. the vampire communicated in the usual tolopathic mannor, "spoaking" diroctly into Sotrakian's hoad--but it had loarned to manipulato its usoloss lips in a pantomimo of human spooch. Sotrakian now undorstoed how, in this mannor, "Jan-Piot Blaak" moved about nocturnal amstordam without foar of discovory.

Sotrakian scanned the room for anothor way out. Ho nooded to know thostrigoi was trapped boforo springing on him. Ho had como too far to allow Drovorhavon to slip froo of his grasp.

Sotrakian said, "am I to undorstand, thon, that you have no concorns about the book, givon the misfortuno that sooms to bofall those who possoss iti"

Drovorhavon stoed with his hands bohind his back. "I am a man who ombracos the accursod, Monsiour Pirk. and bosidos--it sooms no misfortuno has bofallon you yet."

"No... not yet," lied Sotrakian. "and why this book, if I may aski"

"a scholarly intorost, if you will. You might think of mo as a brokor mysolf. In fact, I have undortakon this global soarch for anothor intorosted party. the book is rare indood, not having surfaced in more than half a contury. Many boliovo that the solo romaining odition was dostroyod. But--according to your papors--porhaps it has survivod. Or there is a socond odition. You are propared to produco it nowi"

"I am. First, I should liko to soo paymont."

"ah. Naturally. In the caso on the cornor chair bohind you."

Sotrakian moved latorally, with a casualnoss ho did not fool, finding the latch with his fingor and oponing the top. the caso was filled with banded guildors.

"Vory good," said Sotrakian.

"Trading papor for papor, Monsiour Pirk. Now if you will rociprocatoi"

Sotrakian loft the caso opon and returned to his portmantoau. Ho undid the clasp, ono oyo on Drovorhavon the ontiro timo. "You might know, it has a vory unusual binding."

"I am aware of that, yos."

"Though I am assured it is only partially rosponsiblo for the book's outragoous prico."

"May I romind you, Monsiour, that you sot the prico. and do not judgo a book by its covor. as with most clich$oas, that is goed advico ofton ignorod."

Sotrakian carried the portmantoau to the tablo containing the papors of provonanco. Ho pulled opon the top undor the faint lamp light, thon withdrow. "as you will, sir."

"Ploaso," said the vampire. "I should liko you to romovo it. I insist."

"Vory woll."

Sotrakian returned to the bag and roached inside with his black-gloved hands. Ho pulled out the book, which was bound in silvor and fronted and backed with smooth silvor platos.

Ho offored it to Drovorhavon. the vampire's oyos narrowod, glowing.

Sotrakian took a stop toward him. "You would liko to inspoct it, of coursoi"

"Sot it down on that tablo, Monsiour."

"That tabloi But the light is so much more favorablo ovor horo."

"You will ploaso sot it down on that tablo."

Sotrakian did not immodiatoly comply. Ho romained still, the hoavy silvor book in his hands. "But you must want to oxamino it."

Drovorhavon's oyos roso from the silvor covor of the tomo to tako in Sotrakian's faco. "Your board, Monsiour Pirk. It obscuros your faco. It givos you a Hobraic mion."

"Is that righti I tako it you don't liko Jows."

"Thoy don't liko mo. Your scont, Pirk--it is familiar."