Week after week, for two months, Oskar hid in his private chamber, tortured by the sounds of carpenters, stonemasons and electricians performing their duties on the lower two floors. The screaming of drills and the endless pounding of hammers nearly drove him mad and kept him from sleep. It was sweet relief when they finally finished their renovations and drove away for the very last time.
One night after Antonio, for that was the stranger’s name, moved in, Oskar flew into the night earlier than usual. He found a victim within the hour, drained him of the warm blood so vital for his survival, then hurried back to the chateau. This night, however, instead of returning to his chamber, he crept along the narrow corridor to the room where Antonio slept. With his ears pricked he listened at th
