incontrôlable

Chapitre 6

"I scratched it while struggling, then it hit my head hard, and I passed out... When I woke up, I was in another room..."

It seems that what happened last night was also very strange. Mrs. Austin wasn't the only one who was attacked, but why was Miss Palmer downstairs? Logically speaking, she couldn't have escaped after she fell unconscious.

“Go on, miss,” the priest encouraged the girl gently, unlike me who was eager to ask my own question. “Tell us what happened next…”

Miss Palmer took a sip of milk with difficulty, and I could see she was trying to control her trembling voice: "I...I felt weak all over...my head was throbbing...the maid who was taking care of me said it was already ten o'clock in the morning, and you should all go out, so I thought I'd get up and walk around...that's when Mr. Brooks came to see me, and he said he was feeling a bit weak and wondered if I felt the same way. We talked for a while when there was a knock at the door, and then Mrs. Austin came in...she...she..."

A sudden, unnatural flush rose to the pale girl's face. Her fingers dug tightly into my muscles, and her trembling lips uttered words that shocked us:

“It was her… Mrs. Austin… She’s a vampire! She bit the maid as soon as she stepped in the door. At first, we didn’t understand what she was doing, but when she threw the corpse away, we realized… she was sucking blood… Mr. Brooks was so scared that he turned and ran towards the window, but she snapped his neck… I was so scared I almost died!”

Good heavens, how is that possible?

We were all stunned!

Miss Palmer looked at me anxiously: “Please believe me, I’m telling the truth… At that moment, I grabbed the crucifix I was wearing, but she seemed unafraid and kept walking towards me… I called out God’s name and kept reciting prayers… Then she seemed to be in great pain, covered her face, and ran away… I rushed out of the room and hid in the bushes in the ground floor garden. I was terrified, I thought I was going to die… I saw her teeth, sharp and covered in blood… God…”

She began to sob softly again, burying her head in her hands.

I felt as if all my senses had been stripped away at that moment, and only one sentence kept echoing in my mind: "Mrs. Austen is a vampire!"

Good heavens, this is absurd! We've been with her the whole time; she came here with us, we've laughed and joked together. How could this be? She's a perfectly normal, married woman! Besides, she's the one who told us about the vampire legends around here. How could it be…

Just as my thoughts were in disarray, the priest gently told Miss Palmer that she should close her eyes and rest, otherwise she would collapse. "Don't worry, Mr. Green and I will stay with you. We have guns, we will protect you," he reassured the weeping girl, calling to Hans. Luther took out tablecloths and napkins from the cupboard to use as blankets. In his warm, sun-like voice, Miss Palmer gradually stopped sobbing. After several hours of hiding and terror, she finally felt safer, and wearily closed her eyes, drifting off to sleep.

The priest gave me a wink and walked toward the door. We watched from afar as the old butler carefully covered Miss Palmer with several layers of silk tablecloths, and we exchanged a glance at each other.

"Do you believe her, Mr. Green?" The priest's face had lost its previous gentleness; his expression was more serious than I had ever seen before.

I shook my head in confusion. "I...I find it hard to imagine...the priest. You know, Mrs. Austin, she...how could she..."

“We need to think about that carefully.” The priest raised an eyebrow. “Do you remember what we saw last night?”

I rubbed my forehead and recalled: "...We rushed to the second floor after hearing the screams, and didn't we just see Mrs. Austin being bitten on the neck by a vampire?"

"Miss Palmer was no longer in the room at that time."

"Yes... later you found her lying in the weeds outside the house..."

The priest nodded. "According to her own account, that happened after she was knocked unconscious by the vampire. It's strange that the vampire didn't harm her. Besides, Mrs. Austin was also a victim at the time?"

I flinched: "You mean... Miss Palmer is lying?"

The priest waved his hand: "That judgment is too hasty. Mr. Green, do you remember what Mr. Brooks looked like when we found his body?"

I felt a little lost.

"He was lying face down, his clothes were neat, and there were no signs of a struggle, which proved that he hadn't even thought of resisting. The maid's body was by the door, which meant that the maid was killed in front of him as soon as he opened the door, and he was terrified. Then he turned to run away, but was caught and his neck was broken. The order of death was exactly the same as Miss Palmer said, and only in this way could she have time to figure out whether Mrs. Austin was really... a vampire."

I thought about it: this does fit the situation at the scene, but it's all speculation, and there's still no way to determine whether it's true or false.

“Oh, right,” the priest continued, “if we go by Mrs. Austin’s account, she stayed in her room the whole time. But the maid must have heard the knocking before opening the door. Would she have opened it if she hadn’t trusted someone she knew? After the murder, I think a dutiful maid would have confirmed the visitor’s identity before opening the door.”

What he said makes a lot of sense. "Oh, right..." I thought of something else, "Both of them said they escaped by relying on the cross and reciting prayers. Do you think that's a coincidence?"

“I believe that the cross and prayers are weapons against vampires,” the priest said. “But it is clear that this is the most contradictory part of their story, meaning that one of them is lying.”

"Now that there are no witnesses, how can we make a judgment?" I think this has become a difficult problem.

The priest smiled at me and pulled something out of his pocket: "We should thank the poor first mate; it gave us a key to unlock the door at a crucial moment."

Ah, that was the lace my dead animal friend was holding.

(11. Past Events)

16:02:23

"What do you mean by this?" I frowned and looked at the priest. "Do you mean to..."

“Yes.” The angelically handsome man in front of me nodded readily. “I do want to verify whose lace it is. Mr. Green, the first mate is your pet, so it shouldn’t attack humans without reason. This lace must have been left by the person who hurt it, and we need to find the owner of the lace now.”

"How do we find it? We can't exactly rummage through the ladies' skirts, can we?"

“Oh, that seems like a problem.” He shrugged. “But I think it might be more effective to have the two ladies confront each other publicly, and that would avoid our embarrassment.”

What are your plans?

“I don’t know,” the priest sighed. “We need to let poor Miss Palmer rest first. Besides, I have another unfinished task to complete!”

I was somewhat confused, then immediately recalled the moment I burst into the kitchen—it turned out the priest was referring to his conversation with Hans Luther. He had once told me about his suspicions about the old butler, and it seemed I had interrupted him just as he was about to investigate. I glanced at the man quietly tidying up in the kitchen and asked in a low voice, "Did you... say something just now?"

“No.” The priest smiled. “To be precise, I haven’t even started yet. But I think it might be more effective with you here.” He gave a sly smirk and walked back into the kitchen. I took a deep breath and slowly followed him.

The white-haired butler was busy packing the prepared wine and dinner into baskets to be taken to the small lounge, where everyone would be safer staying together. His hunting rifle sat nearby, leaning against a cabinet.

Miss Palmer was sleeping soundly, her breathing barely perceptible. I gently covered her with a silk scarf. The priest glanced at me and went to Hans. Luther handed him a bottle of wine: "Mr. Luther, could you please get Miss Palmer some more clothes later? She's dressed too lightly."

“Yes, sir,” the old butler replied calmly.

“Oh, remember to take your gun. It’s always very dangerous to act alone, even on the manor.” The priest slowed his tone. “Mr. Luther, aren’t you afraid?”

The old butler paused noticeably in his work: "No, there's nothing to be afraid of. I've lived here for almost seventy years, and I know this place very well."

"Oh?" The priest looked very interested. "Then I'm curious about some things, and perhaps you can answer them for me."

"Of course, please feel free to ask."

The priest glanced at me, then turned to the side: "Do you know when that church was abandoned?"

"It's been about fifty years."

"Oh? Who are buried inside?"

"They are villagers from the surrounding area, as well as people from the manor in previous generations."

The priest smiled slightly: "But do you remember that coffin with its very new lining from yesterday? It didn't look like it was from fifty years ago! Mr. Luther, do you know who is buried there?"

I watched the old butler's tall, thin back and noticed he seemed to tremble slightly before freezing in place. The priest also stared intently at his profile, not looking away—it seemed that the words had touched a hidden part of his heart, but he still didn't intend to say it completely.

“I’m sorry, Father,” Hans Luther replied without turning his head. “I don’t know… perhaps it was buried later…”

“But the coffin and tombstone are very old, not at all like a recent burial. Besides, who would deliberately bury someone in a place like that?” The priest raised an eyebrow. “I think that thing might belong to some kind of cursed creature. Mr. Luther, haven’t you really heard that there are vampires around? To be honest, it’s hard to believe…”

I stood up and saw the old butler's shoulders trembling slightly—this direct confrontation had shaken him. The priest leaned towards him and said even more slowly, "Mr. Luther, don't you really understand what concealing the truth means for everyone?"

The room was silent for a minute. I could clearly hear the old butler's heavy, rapid breathing. When he finally turned to face us, his usually indifferent face was covered in sweat. I looked at him and said in the most earnest tone, "Mr. Luther, I can tell you the truth. I've heard the legends about vampires in this area. But I hope to hear the story closest to the truth from you."

The wrinkles on his forehead, like knife-carved marks of time, deepened, and his thin hands trembled incessantly, revealing that he was thinking intensely. Finally, he weakly wiped his forehead and looked up at us.

“You’ve suspected me all along, haven’t you, gentlemen?” His tone wasn’t one of inquiry, but rather of certainty. “Please forgive me, I didn’t want to hide it from you, but I had no choice. I’ve served the Brooks family my whole life, and its reputation is my entire life.”

The priest nodded gently. "I completely understand, Mr. Luther. But what does this have to do with vampires?"

A look of pain crossed the old butler's wrinkled face: "Unfortunately, quite the opposite, it's very relevant. Fifty years ago, there were indeed vampires here. Some villagers had their necks bitten off at night, and all their blood was drained. Everyone was terrified, so the owner of the manor, Edward Brooks, invited an exorcist priest from the Vatican. The priest told us that vampires were cursed zombies. That night, he and everyone ambushed the village and followed the vampire's tracks to a peasant woman who had just committed suicide in the churchyard. Just as we were about to burn the body, it jumped out of the coffin and ran towards the manor."

I pressed on impatiently, "Did it harm the people in the manor?"

“Yes, sir,” Hans Luther said in a hoarse voice. “The man who was killed was the master’s youngest son, Young Master Radley. We destroyed the vampire, but we couldn’t save the young master’s life. The master was very sad, and he died shortly after burying the young master in the church. So no one in the manor wants to talk about vampires anymore; it only makes people sad. I also don’t want people to say that the kind child died tragically under the monster’s fangs.”

I didn't say anything: So this is why the old butler was so reluctant to talk about "vampires." He had his reasons, and we can't blame him.

The priest sighed sadly, "So the coffin we saw was that of young Master Radley, right? But why is it so clean and tidy? He's been dead for fifty years, and there's no body in the coffin. Could it be that he has become—"

“That’s impossible!” Hans Luther retorted firmly in the sternest tone. “I saw the young master being buried with my own eyes, and there haven’t been any vampires around here since then, until you appeared…” He seemed to think the last sentence was a bit impolite, and forcibly swallowed it back.

The priest wasn't angry; he sincerely apologized: "Then why wasn't Young Master Radley's coffin moved when the cemetery fell into disrepair?"

“It was the madam’s idea,” the old butler replied. “It was Miss Lily, who later married the eldest son. She felt it was unnecessary.”

I was somewhat surprised to suddenly hear my aunt's name. The priest seemed equally taken aback, but he didn't show it and continued, "Does Mrs. Brooks also know young Mr. Radley?"

“Of course. Miss Lily was originally engaged to Young Master Radley, but after he passed away, she married a banker in Coventry. However, she became a widow two years later and had no children. So the eldest son proposed to her, and they lived in the manor until he passed away.”

"Then...where are they buried?"

"It was in the cemetery in Fabil village, where a church was later built."

I knew nothing about these things because my parents never mentioned those relatives' past; perhaps even they didn't know. But Hans Luther's words answered some of our questions, which might be helpful for our subsequent investigation.

“Thank you so much, Mr. Luther.” The priest grasped the old butler’s hand. “Your words are the best help you can give the Brooks family. They are now in great danger, and you must help us!”

His firm tone and the solemnity in his eyes were persuasive; stubborn Hans. Mr. Luther looked at him quietly, and finally nodded seriously.

I breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed we had secured another reliable source of support, which would make things easier from here on out. I took out my pocket watch and told the priest it was 6:45. Perhaps we should meet up with the others, otherwise everyone would feel uneasy…

“Of course, of course,” the priest agreed. He looked at the sleeping Miss Palmer and carefully picked her up. “Perhaps we should get her a coat.”

“Clothes are already prepared in the small living room,” Hans Luther said, picking up a basket and reaching for a shotgun leaning against the side. “Let’s go, gentlemen.”

12. (Appearance)

16:02:58

The light outside was so dim that it was difficult to see anything more than fifty yards away. The four of us walked down the corridor toward the small lounge. The door was ajar, and through the crack, we could see flickering firelight and vaguely hear the indistinct voices of several people talking. I sighed inwardly—I really didn't know what was going to happen next.

Hans Luther gently opened the door for us. I let the priest, who was carrying Miss Palmer, enter the room first. As expected, the soft conversation abruptly stopped. The priest carefully and gently placed the sleeping girl on the sofa.

Attorney Field and Mr. Carl Dewey sat opposite him, eyes wide with shock. Mr. Dewey opened his mouth to utter a single syllable, but the priest quickly raised his index finger in a "quiet" gesture. Attorney Field tiptoed over, bent down to look at the haggard Miss Palmer, and asked in a low voice, "What happened, Father? How did you find her?"

I didn't pay attention to the answer the priest whispered in his ear; I was only watching the other person by the fireplace.

Mrs. Austin reclined in her chaise lounge, covered with a blanket. The firelight behind her outlined her golden curves, while her face was obscured by shadows.

Mr. Austin sat to one side, a glass of wine and the shotgun that had been handed to him beside him, and he looked over with a surprised expression. I guessed he probably didn't know that his wife and the unconscious young lady were facing a brutal confrontation, the outcome of which was clearly something no one wanted to see.

Just then, a gasp suddenly erupted beside me, instantly drawing everyone's attention.

The one who spoke was Attorney Field, who stared wide-eyed at Mrs. Austin, his eyes practically popping out of their sockets, and all color drained from his face in an instant. The priest seemed to frantically try to cover his mouth, but clearly failed.

"A vampire!" the chubby middle-aged man exclaimed. "Her? That's impossible!"

The priest, looking annoyed, covered his forehead and turned away, while everyone else focused their attention on the fireplace! Mr. Austin stared blankly at Attorney Field, asking in confusion, "What are you talking about, Attorney?"

It seemed too late to salvage the situation. Before the person who was supposed to speak could explain, Miss Palmer groaned and woke up! She had been startled awake by the lawyer's loud voice. I could already foresee what was about to happen: a fierce conflict was about to erupt!

But at that moment, I saw the priest subtly move away, and the light from the fireplace shone on Miss Palmer's face. He wore a faint smile that allowed the two ladies to see each other clearly in the next moment.

Miss Palmer's wandering gaze finally settled on the chaise longue by the fireplace. Her shoulders began to tremble, and then she frantically waved her hands. When she touched the priest's robe, she was like a drowning person grabbing a piece of floating wood, and immediately hid herself behind him.

At the same time, Mrs. Austin stirred; startled, she sat up and was now staring incredulously at the girl behind the priest. I saw her open her mouth but say nothing, and just as she took a step toward us, Miss Palmer screamed, “Get away! You devil! Get away! Don’t come near me!”

The priest helped the hysterical Miss Palmer up and tried to calm her. Attorney Field, somewhat bewildered, stepped back a few paces and looked at Mrs. Austin with fear.

“Good heavens, what on earth is going on?” Mr. Carl Dewey finally exclaimed, “For God’s sake, Father, won’t you explain this to us?”

“What’s wrong with Miss Palmer?” Mr. Austin asked. “She looks very bad!”

Before the priest could answer, the terrified girl pointed at Mrs. Austen and cried out, "Get her away! Get her away! She's a vampire! She eats people! She eats people—"