The next morning, I dined on what the Black Romanians called “sarmale” – cabbage rolls filled with rice and meat.

As I got into the carriage, the driver and the innkeepers talked amongst themselves. They were clearly talking about me, because every so often, they would turn towards me or point in my general direction. I heard words in Hungarian and Romanian:

“vérfarkas” and “vârcolac” – werewolf

“ördög” and “diavol” – devil

But what caught my attention was a word that was also the same in English:

“vámpír” and “vampir” – vampire

By the time that the driver was ready, a sizeable crowd of Black Hungarian and Romanian peasants had gathered near the inn. They looked upon me and made the sign of the cross. The driver snapped his reins and his four horses pulled us away. Throughout the day, we traveled deeper in the Carpathians. The afternoon sun fell upon the dark green trees and gray and brown rocks. As twilight neared, the darkening sky merged with the deep blue and purple shadows of the mountains. Sometimes the roads were so steep that the horses strained to pull us up the hill. I told the driver that we should get out of the carriage and walk, but he said, “No, no. Stay in the carriage. The dogs here are too fierce.”

The darker night became, the more restless the other passengers became. They spoke amongst each other in their native languages. The driver yelled at his horses, as if to urge them to run faster. The coach rocked and swayed, and I had to hold on to my seat. The passengers gave me little gifts, with such earnestness and sympathy that I couldn’t refuse, and signed themselves with the cross.

When we reached Borgo Pass, there were no signs of any other vehicle. The other passengers breathed with a sigh of relief. However, I was disappointed that the Count didn’t show up.

“We are an hour earlier than expected,” the driver spoke to me in terrible German. “Perhaps the Count will not meet the Black English Herr. You should come with us to Bukovina and meet with the Count tomorrow, or even the day after that.”

No sooner had he finished speaking, another carriage with four horses drew up right beside us. The other passengers screamed and crossed themselves. From the dim light of our lanterns, I could see that the other horses were coal black. The carriage was driven by a tall man with a tall black hat and a long brown beard.

He said to my driver, “You are early tonight, brother.”

“The English Herr was in a hurry.”

“You wanted him to go on to Bukovina,” replied the stranger. “You cannot deceive me, brother. I know too much.”

The stranger took my luggage and I got out of the coach. With only a whistle to his horses and a crack of the whip, the driver left for Bukovina. As my former companions disappeared into the darkness, I suddenly felt a strange chill and a feeling of loneliness. The stranger threw a cloak over my shoulders. He smiled and revealed dark skin, red lips, and sharp-looking teeth. He spoke in excellent German.

“The night is chilly, mein Herr. The Count wishes for me to take care of you.”

The carriage went along quickly, but it seemed to me that we were simply covering the same ground over and over. I looked out the window and took note of special landmarks and confirmed that my suspicions were true. I wanted to ask the driver why we were stalling, but now I had become meek from fright. A few minutes before midnight, a wolf somewhere far off began to wail. This wail was joined by another wolf, and another, and another. Suddenly, the driver shook the reins and turned down a narrow road sharply to the right. Trees arched over the road like a tunnel and large rocks blocked us in from either side. I could still hear the howls of the wolves, but they grew fainter.

On our left, I saw a faint, flickering blue flame. The driver stopped the horses, jumped out, and disappeared into the darkness to inspect it. I was just wondering what to do, as I could still hear the wolves, but the driver returned and drove on. One flame had a curious optical effect. When he stood between the flame and me, I could still see the blue flame clearly, as if he were transparent. We drove on until the driver saw another flame. He jumped out and ran into the darkness. I started to feel groggy and my eyelids became heavy. The scene with the blue flame seemed to repeat, as if in a dream.

I woke up to the horses screaming and rearing. The black clouds had parted, revealing a bright silver moon. This moonlight illuminated over twenty wolves in a ring around the coach. They had shaggy hair, red tongues, and sharp white teeth. The driver was gone. I called out for him. I banged on the side of the carriage to try to scare away the wolves, who were starting to tighten the circle.

Suddenly, the driver appeared next to the carriage. I don’t know how he got next to me so fast. He shouted something in a commanding voice, and the wolves fell back. He brushed his arms aside and then a heavy cloud passed over the moon. The wolves disappeared. I was too afraid to speak or move.

The driver jumped back onto the seat and shook the reins. We continued traveling in almost complete darkness, almost always ascending. Finally, the carriage went along a flat road. We had pulled into the courtyard of a ruined castle, with tall towers and windows that had no light.