Lifeforce Page 11

  Carlsen said: “Do you think Count Magnus was a vampire — in your sense?”

  The Count smiled. “Surely there is only one sense?” He led them up the worn stone steps, into the hall. “But the answer to your question is yes. And now, would you prefer to see your rooms? Or would you prefer a drink first?”

  Fallada said decisively: “A drink.”

  “Good. Then come into the library.”

  Through the far window of the library, they could see the sun dipping over the mountains. A log fire burned in the enormous grate; the firelight was reflected on copper fire-irons and on the polished leather binding of books. The German girl, Annaleise, wheeled the drink trolley onto the rug. With her plump figure and rosy cheeks, she made Carlsen think of a waitress in a beer garden. She poured Swedish schnaps into the glasses.

  Geijerstam said: “I drink to you, gentlemen. It is a great honour to have two such distinguished guests.”

  The girls also drank. Carlsen said: “If I’m not being too inquisitive, may I ask what your attractive pupils study?”

  The Count smiled. “Why not ask them?”

  Louise Curel, a slender, dark-eyed girl, said: “We learn to heal the sick.”

  Carlsen raised his glass. “I’m sure you’ll make charming nurses.”

  The girl shook her head. “No, we don’t study to be nurses.”

  “Doctors?”

  “That is closer to it.”

  The Count said: “Do you feel tired?”

  Surprised by the change of subject, Carlsen said: “Not at all.”

  “Not even slightly tired by your journey?”

  “Oh, just a little.”

  Geijerstam smiled at the girls. “Would you like to demonstrate?”

  They looked at Carlsen and nodded.

  “You see,” Geijerstam said, “this is perhaps the quickest way to answer your question and to introduce you to my work. Would you mind standing up, please?”

  Carlsen stood on the rug. Selma Bengtsson began to unzip his jacket. Geijerstam said: “Close your eyes for a moment, and observe your sensations — particularly your sense of fatigue.”

  Carlsen closed his eyes; he could see the dancing flames through the eyelids. He observed a sense of muscular fatigue, combined with a feeling of relaxation.

  “They are going to place their hands on you and give you energy. Relax and allow yourself to absorb it. You will not feel anything.”

  Louise Curel said: “Would you mind removing your tie and opening your shirt?”

  When the shirt was unbuttoned, they pulled it back so his shoulders were bare. The Swedish girl said: “Close your eyes.”

  He stood there, swaying slightly, and felt them place their fingertips against his skin. He could feel Louise’s breath against his face. It was an exciting, slightly erotic sensation.

  They stood there for perhaps five minutes. He experienced a sensation of bubbling delight, as if he wanted to laugh. The Count said: “It could be done even more quickly if they used their lips. This is the reason that kissing gives pleasure, incidentally. It is an exchange of male and female energy. How do you feel?”

  “Very pleasant.”

  “Good. I think that should be enough.” The girls helped to rebutton the shirt and replace the tie.

  Fallada said: “How do you feel?”

  As Carlsen hesitated, Geijerstam said: “He will not know for at least five minutes.” He asked Miss Bengtsson: “How was it?”

  “I think he was more tired than he realised.”

  Carlsen asked: “Why do you say that?”

  “You took more energy than I expected.” She looked at the others, who nodded.

  He asked: “So you feel tired?”

  “A little. But don’t forget that there are three of us, so we don’t give much. And we take energy from you.”

  “You take it?”

  “Yes. We take some of your male energy, and give you our female energy in return.” She turned to the Count. “You can explain it better.”

  Geijerstam was refilling the glasses. He said: “You could call it benevolent vampirism. You see, when you’re tired, it doesn’t necessarily mean you have no energy. You may have enormous vital reserves, but there is no stimulus to make them appear. When the girls give you female energy, it releases your vital reserves, exactly like a sexual stimulus. For a moment you feel just as tired as before — perhaps more so. Then your vital energies begin to flow, and you feel much better.”

  Fallada said: “A kind of instantaneous cross-fertilisation?”

  “Precisely.” He asked Carlsen: “How do you feel now?”

  “Marvellous, thank you.” It was a pleasant, glowing sensation, and he was inclined to wonder how far it was due to the schnaps and the magical beauty of the sunset on the lake.

  “Close your eyes for a moment. Do you still notice any tiredness?”

  “None whatever.”

  Geijerstam said to Fallada: “If we took his lambda reading, you would find it had increased.”

  Fallada said: “I’d like to do full tests.”

  “Of course. Nothing could be easier. I have already done them, and I will show you my results.”

  “Did you ever publish them?”

  “I wrote an article for it about ten years ago in the Journal of Humanistic Psychology, but Professor Schacht of Göttingen attacked it so bitterly that I decided to wait until people are ready to listen.”

  Carlsen asked: “How did you make the discovery?”

  “I first came to suspect it when I was a student, more than seventy years ago. My professor was Heinz Gudermann, who was married to an exceptionally lovely young girl. He had enormous vitality, and he often used to say he owed it to his wife. And then I read a paper that pointed out that many men have retained their vitality into old age when they were married to young women: I remember it mentioned the great cellist Casals, the guitarist Segovia and the philosopher Bertrand Russell. But the author of the paper insisted that this was purely psychological, and even then I was inclined to doubt this. Fifteen years later, when I discovered the principle of vampirism, I began to suspect that it was due to a transfer of sexual energy. I persuaded a young couple to take lambda readings before they went to bed on their honeymoon night, and then again the next day. This showed a definite increase in the energy of the life field. Next, I persuaded another couple to take readings before and after lovemaking. And the first thing I observed was that the renewal curve was similar to the curve of a hungry man eating food. Only it was much steeper. This seemed to confirm my point: that both lovers had eaten a kind of food — vital energy. And yet they were both renewed. How could this be, unless there were two kinds of energy, male and female? You see, lovemaking is a symbiotic relation, like a bee taking honey from a flower and fertilising the flower. But in those days I was more interested in the negative principles of vampirism — people like Gilles de Rais and Count Magnus. When I was in my seventies, I had a serious illness, and my nurse was a pretty peasant girl. I noticed that when she had rested her hands on me, I felt much better, but she was tired. Then it struck me that if several girls did it at the same time, it would be easier for them all. It worked. And now every day I take a little energy from my three assistants, and they take a little of mine. They keep me young.”

  Fallada was shaking his head incredulously. “That’s really astonishing. Could it be used in general medical practice?”

  “It has been used. You have an example here, in this house — Gustav, the footman who carried in your bags. He is from Lycksele, a small town not far from here. He was once an excellent carpenter; then a series of bereavements made him depressed and suicidal. After his third suicide attempt, he was confined in a mental home and became completely schizophrenic. Now, schizophrenia is a kind of vicious circle. The energies are low, so everything looks meaningless and futile. And because everything seems futile, you become even more depressed and exhausted. Now, at that time I had seven young girls here for the whole
summer. We brought Gustav back here — to remove him from the old environment — and began intensive treatment. This was basically the thing the Commander has just experienced. In the first few hours, the girls became very tired, but he improved noticeably. After a few sessions, he stopped taking so much energy from them. He began to manufacture his own again. Within a week he was a different man. He begged me to remain here, so I employed him, and he married the gardener’s daughter. He is now perfectly normal.”

  Fallada said slowly: “If all that is true, it is one of the most amazing things I’ve ever heard. Can anyone give this energy?”

  “Yes. It takes a little practice — it is easier for women than for men. But I believe anyone can do it.”

  Carlsen said: “And what if the patient becomes dependent on these energy transfusions, like a drug?”

  The Count shook his head. “That happens only in rare cases, when the patient has a criminal temperament.”

  Fallada looked at him with deep interest. “Criminal?”

  “Yes. It is basically a kind of… spoiltness. Do you understand the word? Healthy people enjoy being independent. They don’t like feeling reliant on others. Of course, when we are very tired or ill, we need help — as I did. But some people are more self-pitying than others. They need much more help before ihey are willing to make the effort to help themselves. And there are so many people who are so full of resentment and self-pity that they never reach this point. The more help they get, the more they want.”

  “And you would describe that as the criminal temperament?”

  “Yes. Because the real criminal has the same attitude. Perhaps he becomes a criminal because he is poor and frustrated… I am thinking of Jarlsberg, the Uppsala rapist, at whose trial I gave evidence. He once told me that when he choked and raped a girl, he was taking something that she owed to him. After a while, such a man begins to acquire a taste for this mixture of resentment and violence. He may commit his first rape because he is tormented by sexual frustration. But after his tenth, he no longer wants sex, but only rape, the sense of violating another human being. If you like, he enjoys the sense of breaking the law, of doing wrong. Burglars sometimes commit wanton destruction for the same reason.”

  Carlsen said: “You believe the vampire is the criminal type?”

  “Indeed. That is the ultimate form of rape.” A clock in the hall struck the hour. Carlsen glanced at his watch; it was seven. The girls all stood up. Selma Bengtsson said: “I hope you will excuse us. We must get ready for dinner.”

  “Of course, my dear.” The Count made a brief formal bow from the waist. When the door had closed behind the girls, he said: “Please be seated.” He remained standing until they had sat down. “In fact, I suggested to the young ladies that they might leave us alone half an hour before dinner.” He smiled at them. “Unless I am mistaken, you believe that the aliens from the Stranger are vampires?”

  Both stared at him with astonishment. Fallada said: “How the devil did you know that?”

  “A simple inference. It can hardly be coincidence that you bring the famous Commander Carlsen as your research assistant. We have all followed his adventures with fascination. And you tell me you want to ask my opinion about vampires. It would be strange if there was no logical connection between these circumstances.”

  Fallada laughed. “God, for a moment you had me worried.”

  Geijerstam said: “But these aliens are dead, are they not?”

  “No. We don’t think so.” He took out his cigar case. “Olof, would you like to explain?” It was the first time he had used Carlsen’s Christian name; it established what they had both come to feel: that they were friends as well as allies and colleagues.

  Without unnecessary detail, Carlsen described his visit to the Space Research building, the death of Seth Adams, and his own encounter with the girl. At first, Geijerstam listened quietly, his hands folded in his lap. He began to nod with increasing excitement. Finally, unable to contain himself, he began to pace up and down the room, shaking his head. “Yes, yes! That is what I have always believed. I knew it was possible.”

  Carlsen was glad of the interruption; he was again experiencing the strange inner reluctance to describe what had happened when he was alone with the girl.

  Fallada asked Geijerstam: “Have you ever encountered this kind of vampirism before?”

  “Never as strong as this. Yet it was obvious that it must exist somewhere — I say so in my book. In fact, I believe it has existed on the earth in the past. The legend of the vampire is not just a fairy story. But please go on. What happened to the girl?”

  “She somehow walked out of the building, in spite of all the guards and the electronic alarm systems. An hour later, the other two aliens were found to be dead.”

  “And the girl?”

  “She was found dead ten hours later — raped and strangled.”

  Geijerstam said incredulously: “Dead?”

  “Yes.”

  “No! That is impossible!”

  Fallada glanced at Carlsen. “Why?”

  Geijerstam threw up his hands, searching for words. “Because — how can I say it? — because vampires can take care of themselves. That sounds absurd, perhaps… but again and again in my career as a criminologist I have noticed the same thing. People who get murdered are of a definite type. And vampires do not belong to that type. You must have noticed this yourself?”

  “In that case, how do you explain her death?”

  “You are quite sure that it was her body?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Geijerstam was silent for several moments. Then he said: “There are two possible explanations. It is possible that this was a kind of accident.”

  “What kind?”

  “You could call it a mistake. Sometimes, a vampire is so greedy for energy that the life force flows the wrong way — back to the victim instead of from him. You could compare it to a glutton swallowing food the wrong way.”

  “And the other possibility?”

  “Ah, that is one I have never encountered. The Greeks and the Armenians insist that the vampire can abandon its body voluntarily, to create an impression of death.”

  “Do you think that possible?”

  “I… I believe that a vampire could exist for a short time outside a living body.”

  “Why only for a short time?”

  “Briefly — because it would require immense energy and concentration to maintain individuality outside a living body. Among occultists, there is a technique known as astral projection, which is in many ways similar.”

  Fallada leaned forward. “Do you think a vampire could take over someone else’s body?”

  Geijerstam frowned, staring at the carpet. He said finally: “It may be possible. We know that people can be possessed by evil spirits — I have actually dealt with three such cases. And of course, possession would be the logical conclusion of vampirism, which is a desire to possess and absorb. Yet I have never heard of such a case.”

  Carlsen said with sudden excitement: “These cases of possession by evil spirits — did they destroy the persons they possessed?”

  “In one case, he became permanently insane. The other two were cured by exorcism.”

  Carlsen turned to Fallada. “Could that be the explanation of what happened to Clapperton? If one of these things possessed him without actually killing him, he’d be aware of what was taking place, even if he couldn’t resist it. They’d have to destroy him finally. He’d know too much about them.”

  The Count asked: “Who is this man?” Fallada summarised the story of the girl found on the railway line, of Clapperton’s disappearance and suicide. Geijerstam listened carefully without interrupting. He said: “I would guess that the Commander is right. This man Clapperton was possessed by one of these creatures. He may have committed suicide to escape.”

  Fallada said: “Or was driven to it.”

  None of them spoke for a moment, staring into the collapsing logs of t
he fire. Geijerstam said: “Well, I will do what I can to help you. I can tell you all I know of vampires. But I am not sure whether this would be of any use in this case.”

  Fallada said: “The more we know of these things, the better. We’re working against time. Suppose the other aliens on the Stranger managed to get back to earth?”

  Geijerstam shook his head. “That is impossible.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it is a characteristic of vampires that they must be invited. They cannot take the initiative.”

  Fallada asked with a note of incredulity: “But why?”

  “I am not certain. But it seems to be so.”

  He was interrupted by the sound of a gong from the hall. None of them moved. When the noise ceased, they heard the voices of the girls on the stairs. Carlsen said: “But it’s possible they may be invited. The Prime Minister of England wants to get the Stranger back to earth. He thinks it may be of historical value.”

  “Does he not know what you have told me?”

  “Yes. But he’s pig-headed. He probably thinks that if we don’t do it, the Russians or the Arabs might step in and take all the credit.”

  “You must stop him.”

  “He’s given us a few months. In that time, we have to try to locate the other three aliens. Any idea where we might begin?”

  Geijerstam thought for several moments, his eyes half closed. He sighed and shook his head.

  “Offhand, no. Fallada and Carlsen stared at one another gloomily. “But let us talk about it. There must be a way. I will do what I can. Now let us go and eat.”

  The dining room was smaller than the library, but the great oak table could easily have seated forty guests. Two of its panelled walls were covered with tapestries, each about twelve feet square. A crystal chandelier, suspended from the central beam of the ceiling, was reflected in two immense mirrors, one above the fireplace and one in the opposite wall.

  The girls were already seated. The manservant was pouring Moselle into the tall, green-tinted glasses.

  Geijerstam pointed to the central tapestry. “That is our famous vampire, Count Magnus de la Gardie.”