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for thought. “A long time ago a man taught me to read and his name was Nicolae. I think that is as good a name as any. Now, get some sleep for it will be morning soon.”
    Alexei waited for the boy to go back to sleep. He then picked up Isabella and placed her on the bed beside Nicolae. Isabella rolled over in her sleep and rested her arm gently on Nicolae’s shoulder and then nestled her head into his back. Alexei smiled and sat down in the chair, soon to fall asleep himself.
    The next morning Alexei was not the first to awaken. Nicolae and Isabella were already both awake and he could hear his granddaughter chattering away. Alexei kept his eyes shut and remained still, wanting to hear what Isabella was saying but not wanting to let her know he was listening just yet.
    “Do you remember how you came to be in the woods?” Isabella asked. Nicolae shook his head. “Never mind, my grandfather said that might happen. He says that sometimes when people get bumps on the head, they forget things. My grandfather knows everything like that; he is very clever. He has taught Katya and me how to read. We can teach you how to read. Would you like that?”
    Nicolae made no response to this question. Isabella was talking so quickly that it was taking the boy’s entire concentration just to keep up with what she was saying.
    “Anyway,” Isabella continued babbling, “my grandfather fought in the Crusades. He tells wonderful stories about them, of great battles and mighty warriors and far off places. My favourite stories are about Prince Vlad Dracula—he lives up in that castle at the top of the forest. But we’re not allowed to go up there.”
    At this remark Alexei finally interrupted. “Stop pestering the boy, Isabella,” he scolded.
    Isabella glanced briefly at her grandfather. Outraged by his remark, she turned
    back towards Nicolae defiantly.
    “Am I pestering you?” Isabella asked and Nicolae shook his head in response. Isabella looked triumphantly back at her grandfather and said, “See!”
     
    The weeks passed and gradually Nicolae’s voice returned to him, but his memory did not. Summer changed to autumn and autumn darkened into winter. The days shortened and the nights grew longer. There had been no more murders since those of Nicolae’s parents. But the people of the village waited with uneasy anticipation. They had heard rumours about killings all over the Carpathians but they had chosen to ignore them, putting these rumours in the back of their minds and going about their everyday lives hoping that the most recent murder would be the last, but secretly dreading the unrelenting darkness of the winter months.
    No one understood the murders. Wild boars and wolves would occasionally carry people off, but this was different. The only signs of violence were two tiny puncture marks and, sometimes, a few drops of blood.
    People surmised that the deaths were caused by the loss of blood, but how the victims were losing this blood and who or what was taking it, no one knew.
    Everyone had a theory. Some said it was snakes, others thought wolves but the most prevalent theory was that it was Vlad. People had seen him return to the castle after learning of his wife’s death, but they had never seen him leave. There had been rumours that the Hungarian King, Mathias Corvinus, had imprisoned him. There were also stories that he was in the castle when his wife had committed suicide and left the castle with his son after she died, but Alexei knew this not true. Vlad had become a legend during his lifetime and people wanted to believe that even after death he had remained living, killing as he did during his life. Alexei could only believe that the man he had met only once was worthy of the title of nobleman. Alexei would defend Vlad’s memory until there was no breath left in his body.
     
    Alexei had returned to his village a month after Vlad heard of his wife’s death. He had brought his friend Nicolae with him. They had met