ANNE DEVLIN

"Oscar, please believe me!" Bram Stoker implored his friend. "I was standing in the ruins of the cemetery church, and that vampire woman looked straight at me. My blood ran cold!"

Oscar Wilde raised his hand and briefly touched his friend's cheek. "It seems to have warmed up again by now."

"You don't believe me," Bram said, returning to his breakfast and loading his plate with eggs and bacon.

"Oh, I believe you stood in that ruin and saw a woman. But whether that woman was a vampire, I doubt," Oscar leaned forward, holding his fork like a weapon. "I believe in many strange things: Spiritualism, the power of magnetic vibrations, and above all, the art of palmistry. But if these bloodsuckers are as you described, then I wonder why you're sitting here very much alive. Show me your neck! It seems as unharmed as it was yesterday evening."

Bram silently ate his scrambled eggs, then said, "The fact that she didn't even try to bite me also seems a bit strange to me. It was a good opportunity. There were two of them. I couldn't have escaped. Yes, it felt as if her gaze alone paralyzed me and robbed me of my will and strength."

"She probably smelled from afar that your blood wouldn't suit her," Oscar scoffed. "We need to think about why! Maybe there's something wrong with you, my friend. You should have yourself examined by your trusted doctor."

Bram furrowed his brow. "In many countries, vampires are hunted with holy water, crosses, and communion wafers. Maybe the church walls protected me, even though they're just ruins now. Think about how coveted burial grounds are, especially in the remains of monasteries and churches. The tombstones are crowded together. People believe that this ground is sanctified, whether the church nave has a roof or Masses are still read at the altar."

"People probably know that they won't become revenants if they're buried within these walls. Or that their graves won't be desecrated by the undead," Oscar suggested.

"A wise thought," Bram agreed, though he knew his friend was still mocking him.

"What's a wise thought?" Lady Wilde demanded as she entered the inn's common room. "Good morning," she added somewhat belatedly.

"To be buried in the ruins of a monastery to avoid returning to earth as a blood-sucking revenant," Oscar cheerfully replied. "You should consider it, Mother."

"I consider it nonsense."

"Bram is firmly convinced that he encountered a vampire woman last night. Only his tactically good position behind the walls of a church saved his soul and his life," Oscar grinned broadly, relishing his friend's embarrassment under Lady Wilde's stern gaze.

"Bram has an inexplicable penchant for nighttime cemetery visits, and hearing about his experiences makes me tempted to accompany him again. I still vividly remember the night in Rome at the Cemetery of the Foreigners. I wrote a poem at Percy Shelley's grave. I cannot deny that the atmosphere inspired me. Shall I recite the poem for you, Mother?"

Lady Wilde's expression grew even sterner. "Oscar, stop this childish chatter. We have more important things to discuss. Karen will pick us up at the inn and take us to the group meeting."

"Who is Karen?" Bram asked.

"A clever woman who isn't satisfied with just standing by the hearth and bearing her husband's children while he alone can influence the political fortunes of the country."

"Heaven help us, she's not one of those twisted suffragettes, is she?" Oscar exclaimed.

"This is about the liberation of Ireland, not women! And if you have something against women fighting for their country, then say it outright, my son. I'm only interested in why you brought me here?"

She could indeed be a threatening figure when she stood to her full height and adopted that expression. Oscar hastily turned his attention to his smoked fish and stuffed his mouth so full that he couldn't possibly answer without disregarding the rules of decency. Lady Wilde gave him a sharp look for a few moments, then ordered tea and toast in a commanding voice, which a waiter hurriedly promised to bring with numerous bows.

"And what do we do now?" Luciano asked lazily, boredom evident in his voice. He was satiated, Franz Leopold's wounds were bandaged, and it seemed too early to retire to their coffins. The friends strolled around the hall and then climbed up to the hall where their coffins stood. For a few moments, they were captivated by the discovery of a secret chamber. Diagonally across from the spiral staircase was a trapdoor set into the floor. It was so skillfully fitted into the planks that they only just noticed it now. Franz Leopold lifted it open. A stone slope descended into a narrow chamber. It was so smooth and steep that once someone started sliding down, they surely couldn't climb back up again. At least, this seemed impossible for a human. The chamber itself was quite tall and narrow, blending seamlessly into the massive outer wall from both the outside and inside. Alisa crawled down a bit into the slope while Luciano held onto her ankles.

"And? What do you see?"

"Just this deep, narrow space. It smells quite strong. I wonder what this hideout was used for."

"Many castles have such hideouts," a voice behind them said.

Luciano startled so violently that he let go of Alisa's ankles. With a scream, she tumbled headfirst down the ramp and landed hard on the chamber floor.

"Damn it, Luciano!" she cursed as she picked herself up and brushed off old bat guano from her clothes. She tried to climb the walls, but they had been smoothed very carefully, so her fingers found no purchase.

"And, how do you like your new home?" Franz Leopold called down to her.

"Dark and cozy," Alisa replied. "At least, very sustainable for protection from sunlight."

"That's why the first two Lycana who lived here used it as their sleeping quarters," Ainmire, who had startled them, said. "But then Cameron and Taber joined, along with Áine, Crogher, and Maura, so they moved into the small chambers next to the hall."

"Was Gareth the first Lycana to settle here?" Franz Leopold asked.

"Yes, Gareth and Mabbina used this hideout because they could be sure that no random visitor would discover them during the day. Today, with Tara's help, we've cast a spell around the castle walls that terrifies people and keeps them away from here."

"But for what purpose was the chamber built? The builders couldn't have known that it would serve a good purpose for a few vampires later," Luciano said.

Ainmire chuckled. "No, the O'Flahertys were surely not that foresighted. We suspect they used it as a secret dungeon. Judgment was held up here in the hall, and occasionally, a trial probably ended with the prisoner disappearing forever into the chamber."

"And then?" Alisa called out from the depths, having listened with interest to Ainmire's words.

"Then, the master probably let them starve to death and enjoyed their increasingly weaker cries for a while."

"What charming contemporaries!" Franz Leopold exclaimed.

"Gareth told me he carried out some bones from the hideout before he set up his camp there."

And how did he get out of here? Alisa wondered. Did he turn into a bat every evening? Unfortunately, this escape route was not possible for her. Although it annoyed her, she had to ask the others for a rope to climb back up.

"How is Áine?" Alisa asked when she was back up in the hall.

"Unchanged. But sometimes her mind returns, and she recognizes her surroundings. Otherwise, she mutters something about werewolves. No wonder, the way those beasts mauled her," Ainmire clenched his fists, anger flashing in his eyes. "They'll pay for it!"

Alisa, Franz Leopold, and Luciano descended the spiral staircase with its irregular steps into the large storage hall behind the guard room, where a few rusty weapons still lay around.

Someone had opened Áine's chest. The three vampires approached cautiously and observed the figure, half human, half wolf, lying motionless with closed eyes on her back. Alisa felt that her features had become a bit more human, although her face was still covered in fur. Scars were visible on the side of her cheek and neck, but they seemed to be of older dates. Alisa signaled to the boys to withdraw. Obviously, the vampire wasn't conscious.

"What do you want?" a deep voice growled.

For a moment, Alisa wasn't sure who had spoken, but then Áine opened her eyes. They were of an intense green and surprisingly observant as they looked at them.

"Who are you? I don't know you."

Luciano took it upon himself to introduce them. He bowed quite elegantly and stated their names and the families they came from.

"A Dracas, a Vamalia, and a Nosferas at my coffin. I never thought I'd experience something so strange. And what are you doing here?"

"Donnchadh and Catriona brought us here," Alisa said.

"Yes, but only because that eagle delivered a message from Ivy and the Druid Tara, and they didn't want to let them travel alone," Luciano added.

"And because we were no longer safe in the caves of Aillwee after some vampires, who have already proven they mean no good, followed us from Dunluce," Franz Leopold added.

Something like a smile flickered across the hairy face. "If I hadn't spoken with Tara before her departure, I would be confused now. But I didn't want to hear about that. Why are you standing here in front of my coffin? Do you want to feast on my beast form?"

Luciano looked a little embarrassed to the side, but Alisa vehemently shook her head. "Oh no. Nevertheless, I must admit that I wonder how you could have ended up in this unfortunate situation."

"I certainly have talent for getting into trouble," Áine replied. Her gaze seemed to be focused on a distant point. Then, however, she looked back at the three curious faces.

"Love and loyalty bring ruin. I've had to experience that not only in this life but in previous ones as well."

Alisa protested, but Franz Leopold nodded thoughtfully. "When you allow your feelings to turn to the wrong person, you can easily get lost."

Áine fixed her gaze on the handsome young vampire. "From the sound of it, you know what you're talking about." She stared at him without blinking until Franz Leopold began to shift uneasily from one foot to the other.

"You speak of this life and the one before. So this isn't the first sorrow you've had to endure. Do you want to tell us about it? We still have time until the day calls us to our coffins."

Alisa looked at Franz Leopold in surprise. It sounded as if he were actually interested in the story of the Irish servant. Or was it just an attempt to divert her from probing into his thoughts? What love was he speaking of, and why would it bring ruin upon him? She would find out! Áine began to tell her story, and in doing so, Alisa forgot about Franz Leopold and his secrets.

"In my previous existence, my name was Anne Devlin. My uncle, Michael Dwyer, with whom I grew up, commanded a partisan regiment in the Wicklow Mountains in the east, fighting for a free Ireland. So I grew up with the fighters and became a fervent ally. I wasn't the only woman. Perhaps what was new about this uprising was that women not only nursed the wounded and worried about their men.

We saw how the French rid themselves of the oppressive burden of the outdated monarchy, and we Irish also wanted to storm our Bastille and drive the English from our island once and for all. The French promised us their help. In 1796, fourteen thousand armed Frenchmen sailed into Bantry Bay in Cork, but a storm prevented their landing. Of course, the attempt did not go unnoticed by the English, and so they sent General Lake to crush the United Irishmen, as the freedom fighters were called then. He relied on torture and scorched earth, and soon some of our leaders were arrested. Dublin was firmly in the grip of English spies and secret police, but in the south, in Wexford and Waterford, our revolts were successful. Well, I won't bore you with old stories. Our problem was that we had no central leadership to coordinate the uprisings, so the English could repeatedly extinguish the individual fires that flared up in different places. General Lake ordered that no prisoners be taken. All insurgents who fell into his hands were killed. And although he had about thirty thousand of us killed during those years, we did not give in. Wexford lost a quarter of its population. Lake became increasingly brutal, deporting, hanging, impaling, as in the deepest Middle Ages."

"And the love that led to your downfall?" Alisa dared to ask when Áine paused and her thoughts seemed to drift away again.

"His name was Robert Emmet. He was barely a man when he distinguished himself in the early uprisings of those years. My uncle introduced him to me, and I - only a few years younger than him - fell in love with him immediately. But then General Lake began his advance, and Robert fled to France with a few friends. Four years later, he returned, carrying a plan for a new uprising. He wanted to take Dublin because, he said, only then would a successful uprising lead to Ireland's freedom. When I heard that he was back in the country, I did everything I could to meet him. I told him that I was looking for a position, as my uncle did not want to take me on his campaign, and so I became a housekeeper in his Dublin townhouse. And not only that." She looked a little embarrassed to the side. "I don't know if he loved me as much as I loved him. Our time was so short, and often he would only come for a few hours at night. So we had the passion of forbidden nights, followed by loneliness and fear when he went out again - with English spies on his heels - to advance the preparations for the uprising. He was forced to hide, but I always knew where he was, and I passed on the messages meant for him. I don't know who tipped off the spies, but one morning, they were there, broke down the door, and dragged me out of my bed. They blindfolded me and dragged me into the dungeon cell of some prison. They wanted to know where Robert was hiding,

 and they were willing to use any means to find out. Oh, I tell you, there are infinitely many ways to inflict suffering on a person, and they were very generous in their selection! It started with endless interrogations and beatings and escalated until I thought I was going insane. But I didn't say a word to them. I had sworn loyalty to my love until death, and I was not willing to break that promise."

"These scars on your cheek are old. Do they date back to the time when you were human?" Alisa asked timidly.

Áine ran her hand over her hairy cheek and temple, which were divided by two white, bald streaks. She nodded.

"Yes, those are two of the numerous marks left by the English torture instruments on my skin. The wounds in my soul were even deeper, but no one could see those."

For two years, they tortured me. Then they got their hands on Robert without my help. I don't know if it was by chance or if someone else close to him betrayed them. Robert led the uprising in the summer of 1803 - but he was suppressed within a few hours. The English had been warned. Robert and many of his comrades were arrested. He was hanged with twenty of his friends, while I was still sitting in the dungeon. I wasn't even allowed to say goodbye to him. I couldn't be there for him in his hour of death.

Not that he needed my support. He was only twenty-five years old, but he was a hero. When they put the noose around his neck, he said, "Only when my country takes its place among the nations of the earth, only then and only then let my epitaph be written." She fell silent.

"And what happened next?" Luciano asked. "Were you turned into a vampire in prison?"

Áine shook her head. "No, after Robert was dead and they had buried him somewhere, they let me go, broken, exhausted, and penniless. My family had long been dead, my uncle deported to Australia. I was still young, but my life was over, so I sought death - and found another life."

"But that's a story for another night," Catriona interrupted, who had silently stepped behind them. "It's time! Follow me up to your coffins."

The three bid farewell to Áine and ascended silently behind the Lycana up the spiral staircase to the upper hall, each lost in their own thoughts.

The young vampire paced anxiously in the courtyard. She had overheard enough conversations to know that the castle was magically protected against intruders. So it was her task to find a way for the pursuers to bypass this protection, or the heirs, whoever they were, had to leave the castle. She racked her brains, but she couldn't come up with a solution for either possibility. Everyone was in turmoil because Alisa, Luciano, and Franz Leopold had absconded without permission, those fools. Because of them, the security measures would probably be tightened even further now. And Ivy was with that Druid and the wolves. Maybe they were using the opportunity to capture her. After all, the two companions who had been sent with her had returned with the three runaways. Maybe this was the first good opportunity to make a move. But did they even know that Ivy was currently roaming unprotected through the marshes? Or were they waiting outside the walls for an opportunity - or for a message from her?

The vampire strolled inconspicuously to the gate and slipped out. She hurried across the bridge and plunged into the green grove, the undergrowth of which was so dense that she couldn't even be seen by a guard on the wall. She stopped and listened. Only the wind rustled in the trees. She closed her eyes and tried to focus her senses on the presence of a foreign being. She felt an aura that didn't belong to any of the clans gathered here. And before she could open her eyes again, slender fingers wrapped around her arm.

"You've kept us waiting for a long time! We've been circling here for hours, thinking you might want to break your oath. You do remember what happens then, don't you?"

The young vampire tried to free her arm from the woman's grip, but she was too strong.

"Perhaps you haven't noticed that there was quite a stir because three of the heirs sneaked away. If you've been here since last night, you also know that Ivy and her wolf went into the moor with the Druid and haven't returned yet. However, Mervyn isn't with them. I believe he's down by the river, dealing with some vermin or other. Her expression showed disgust.

"Outside the castle walls?" Danilo, who had stepped up beside her, asked.

She shook her head. "No, you can go down to the water from the courtyard."

"Have you found out what kind of protection was placed around the castle?"

"I tried to question a few of the Lycana here, but they weren't willing to go into too much detail. I only know that this has always been a magical place, because of the yews. Although most of them have disappeared now, the Lycana managed to erect a protective circle together with a spell from the Druid."

The four foreign vampires exchanged glances. Before Tonka could press them further, they heard a call from the castle.

"That's my cousin. I should go before anyone gets suspicious. Please let me go."

Tonka loosened her grip, and with a jerk, the vampire freed her arm from her. Without saying goodbye, she gathered her long robes and slipped out of the undergrowth. With long strides, she ran across the drawbridge and towards the gate, where she was received by her cousin.

"Where were you? Don't you know it's dangerous to roam outside alone? They didn't forbid us from doing so on a whim!"

"And you think you're the right one to tell me that?" she muttered. It was hard for her not to snap at him angrily. He took her by the arm, and although she wanted to break free, she let herself be led by her cousin into the tower and followed him up to the upper hall, where the others were already in their coffins.

The night relentlessly approached its end, and still, the white wolf followed the tracks. The falcon circled in the increasingly brightening sky and then shot off to the west.

Ivy, come back!

She didn't want to listen to him, even though she knew it would have been sensible.

You need to find a place for the day. Let them go. I can continue to follow their trail while you rest, but come back now!

Ivy and Seymour had left the Twelve Bens behind them and descended into the valley, which in a curve coming from the northwest enclosed the mountain range. At the shore of Lough Inagh, Seymour had lost the trail and had to search for quite a while before rediscovering it on the opposite bank. The werewolves had waded through the shallow water. Surely not by chance. They must have suspected that the vampires would try to track them down.

Now they were climbing towards an outlier of the Maumturk Mountains. It was already bright enough for the first people to likely begin their work for the day. The sky in the east began to turn pink.

Ivy, come here. There's a dolmen here. The capstone has slipped, but the hollow underneath should be large enough.

He felt her resistance. She still hadn't spotted the werewolves. How far could she go before the sun brought her down with its flaming swords?

I'm just going to fly up to the ridge and take a look on the other side.

No!

She didn't want to listen to him. Seymour considered following her, but then she might not immediately find the hollow. The slanted slab, which rested only on two of its original support stones and covered a north-facing earthen cave, wouldn't be easy to spot from the air. No, it was wiser for him to wait here for her and guide her with his thoughts.

There they are! They're already down in the valley and heading east towards Cong.

Ivy! Come now. Can't you feel the sun?

Of course she could. Her thoughts had become sluggish, her words sounded slow in his mind, but he felt her approaching. She had resisted the temptation to plunge like an arrow into the depths. Because what would she have done there? Snatch the stone from the werewolves? Only to turn to ash at their feet in the light of the rising sun!

I'm coming!

That was her last thought he received, then a pain shot through his body, causing him to howl in agony. Seymour placed his paws on the stone and raised his snout into the air, although he would have preferred to curl up in the dark earth hole and give in to his pain. He could hear her screaming in his mind - with horror and agony. His eyes scanned the sky. Then he saw her plummet like a burning meteor. She had just cleared the ridge again when the first sunbeam struck her falcon form and set her feathers on fire. He didn't know if she intentionally let herself fall to escape the searing rays or if she was no longer able to stay aloft with her burning plumage. Seymour started running. He raced up the mountainside. The pain gave way to a dull roar. Her thoughts descended in chaotic fragments. She had plunged into the shadows of the mountains, but her feathers still trailed a smoke plume. Seymour ran like never before in his life, but he couldn't catch her. She fell like a stone into a bush. When he reached her, she was lying on her back in the grass, wings spread, eyes closed, beak half-open. One of her wings was bent like a branch in the storm wind, the plumage of the falcon blackened. It smelled of burnt feathers.

You foolish, stubborn thing, he thought tenderly. The sight of her battered bird body was more than he could bear. As gently as possible, he took her in his mouth and carried her swiftly down the mountain. Then he laid her in the earth hollow and closed it with two smaller stones that he could still move. Now all he could do was guard her lifeless form and hope that natural processes took their course and healing began. He could still follow the tracks once Ivy was fully restored.

So he sat on a rock protruding into the valley below and watched the land beneath him. Finally, around noon, he noticed movement. It was Tara on her white horse with the two wolves. Seymour let out a mournful sound. The two wolves in the valley responded. The druid urged the horse on, but halfway up, she was forced to dismount and continue on foot.

"Where is she? What happened to her?" she asked from afar.

"I felt like I could sense fear and pain."

She didn't want to let go of the trail until it was almost too late. The sun hit her.

The Druid sank to her knees and buried her face in her hands. It had been many years since Seymour had last seen her lose composure. Comfortingly, he licked over her hands.

Pull yourself together. She's resting under that stone slab until evening comes.

The Druid's head jerked up, her hands dropping. "Did she try to revert back?"

No, she lost consciousness when she fell. When I laid her under the stone, she stirred. She's too clever to attempt it in this state.

"Let's hope so, because otherwise she'll end up like Áine, for whom I have no more hope."

They fell silent. Although Seymour had promised Ivy to continue tracking during the day, he didn't move from Tara's side, who sat with closed eyes and fell into a soft chant.

Was she speaking with the old gods again?

No god in this world would help a vampire!, Seymour thought bitterly, but he didn't disturb her.