Dracula Unbound by Brian W. Aldiss

arm. But Bodenland took a firm grip of his throat and dragged him to the controls.
    â€œStart explaining,” he said.
    â€œUmmmm ummmm ummmmmmmm. Moon and Mercury, Moon and Mercury, Romance and Remedy … Ummmm.”
    The madman Renfield rocked himself in a tight bundle and hummed as if he were full of bluebottles.
    The ginger man squatted stolidly in his corner by the cell door, watching, nodding in time with the humming, alert to the fact that Renfield was rocking himself closer. Above them, against the square of window showing blue sky, a spider hung by a thread, well out of the madman’s way.
    â€œUmmmm, you’re one of us, kind sir, she said, one of the fallen. May I ask, do you believe in God?”
    Having uttered the Almighty’s name, he fell into fits of laughter, as if the hallowed syllable contained all the world’s mirth.
    â€œYes, I do believe,” said the ginger man. “I think.”
    â€œThen you believe in Hell and hellfire.”
    â€œThose I certainly do believe in.” He smiled wanly, and again the madman laughed.
    â€œI’m God. I’m God and I’m hellfire. And where are these items contained? Why—in blood!” He pronounced the word in savage relish, striking his skull violently as he did so. “In blood, in the head, the head, kind sir, the napper. The napper’s full of blood. There are things that peer in here of a night … things which cry and mew for the blood. You see, it’s scientific, kind sir, she said, because … because you need the blood to drown out the thought. You don’t need thought when you’re dead, or silver bells or cockhole smells or pretty maids all in a row, because when you’re dead you can do anything. You can do anything, kind sir, I assure you. The dead travel fast. Ummmm.”
    The ginger man sighed, as if in at least partial agreement with these crazed sentiments.
    â€œCan you tell me what these things look like which peer in at you at night?”
    Renfield had rocked himself very close now.
    He put a dirty finger against the wall, as if pointing to something unseen by others.
    â€œThere, you see? They come from dead planets, kind sir. From the Moon and Mercury.” He ground his teeth so violently that his intention might have been to eat his own face. “Ummmm, they’re a disease, wrapped in a plague, masquerading as life. Life—yes, that’s it, life, ummmm. And we shall all become like them, us, by and by, if God so wills.”
    On the last word, he sprang at the ginger man, screaming, “Give me a kiss of life, kind sir, she said!”
    But the ginger man was alert, leaped to his feet in time, fended off the madman with his silver-headed cane.
    â€œDown, dog! Back to your kennel, beast, Caliban, or I’ll call in the warden and have you beaten black and blue.”
    The madman retreated only a step and stood there raging or pretending rage, showing teeth, brandishing claws. When the ginger man caught him lightly over the shoulders with his cane, he desisted and crawled on hands and knees back to the far corner, by his mattress. There he sat, looking upward, innocent as a child, one finger stuck deep into his ear.
    A rhombus of sunlight crept down the wall, making for the floor as noon approached, slow as time and as steady. The ginger man remained by the door, unmoving, in a less threatening attitude, though he still had his stick ready.
    Almost as stealthily as the sunbeam, the madman began to roll on the stone floor. His movements became more exaggerated as he tried to tie himself into knots, groaning at the same time.
    The normally genial face of Renfield’s visitor was grave with compassion.
    â€œCan I help in any way?” he asked.
    â€œWhy do you seek my company in this fortress?”
    â€œIt’s a fair question, but I cannot deliver you the answer. Tell me if I can help you.”
    Renfield stared at him from an upside-down