The People's Will by Jasper Kent

army and fled the country. He lived as best he could, like vampires had done for years in these parts, sleeping in churchyards and feeding off peasants. And as he fled south so the Russians advanced south, and with them came Zmyeevich.
    Finally, like most of the sultan’s army, Iuda was trapped in the south-eastern extremity of Europe. There was only one city in which he could hide: Constantinople. He went by his real name of Cain and spoke English like an Englishman. A year before, at the Constantinople Conference – the Shipyard Conference as they called it locally – Britain had been keener to do a deal favourable to Russia than to the Ottomans, and so the English were not universally popular. But at least Britain had not joined in the war on Russia’s side. And Iuda did not come empty-handed – he brought with him the gift of information.
    It took only the mention of Zmyeevich’s name – not in its Russian translation, but in a form known better to the Turks– to allow Iuda access through the layers of administration of Ottoman government and into the Sublime Porte. He was granted an audience with His Imperial Majesty, the Sultan Abdülhamid II, Emperor of the Ottomans and Caliph of the Faithful, in the throne room of the Dolmabahçe Palace. The Grand Vizier – the Greek, Ibrahim Edhem Pasha – stood at his sultan’s side. He was by far the wiliest of all those in the room; apart, of course, from Iuda – or so Iuda had thought.
    Ibrahim Edhem did the talking.
    ‘So you’re aware of our empire’s history with Ţepeş?’ Even then, they dared not use Zmyeevich’s full Romanian name, and stuck to that short epithet.
    ‘I know much of him – especially of his dealings with your enemy, Russia.’
    ‘Then you understand he is no friend of the Romanovs?’
    ‘He would like to be more than a friend.’
    Now the sultan himself spoke. ‘You understand the blood curse he holds over them?’
    Of that, Iuda knew more than anyone but Zmyeevich himself. He knew of the bargain between Zmyeevich and Pyotr the Great, and of how Pyotr had broken it. He knew that Zmyeevich had drunk Pyotr’s blood, but that the tsar had not reciprocated. And he knew how every other Romanov was thus vulnerable to the possibility that he might one day drink Zmyeevich’s blood, and die with it in his body, and become a vampire, subject to Zmyeevich’s will. And if that Romanov were to be or to become tsar, then Zmyeevich would rule Russia. And then where would these Ottomans be?
    ‘I know that if he takes Russia,’ said Iuda, ‘your throne will be next. He will make their armies victorious.’
    Ibrahim Edhem glanced at his sultan, and then spoke again.
    ‘How do you know all this?’ he asked.
    ‘I myself took Ţepeş’s offer to Tsar Aleksandr.’
    ‘You have spoken to His Majesty?’ The Grand Vizier hid his surprise well.
    ‘To Aleksandr Pavlovich,’ Iuda explained. ‘Aleksandr I.’
    There was muttering around the court, and then the sultan spoke again.
    ‘So you are … like him? A vampire?’
    ‘And so I know whereof I speak,’ confirmed Iuda.
    ‘And what are you offering us?’ asked the pasha.
    ‘I know where Ţepeş is. I know what name he is travelling under. If you move swiftly, you could take him.’
    ‘A trick! Intended to divert us from the tsar’s real intent.’
    ‘He marches with the Russians. Dealing with one is not a distraction from the other.’
    ‘And even if we could reach Ţepeş,’ added the sultan, ‘what would we do then? He is invincible.’
    ‘He can die, like any other vampire,’ said Iuda.
    ‘Like yourself?’ asked Edhem.
    Iuda acknowledged the comment with a smile, but he felt safe. Although the guards standing on either side of the sultan were armed with sabres that could easily sever his head, there were tall windows close by that he could reach in moments, and it was dark outside. Besides, they would be fools to kill him before learning all he knew – and Iuda prided himself