by Darci Darson
Cherry felt dizzy. It came like a summer storm and went away in seconds. Felicia’s warm hands gave support to her shoulders as if the woman wanted to share her strength with Cherry. It worked for a moment. After that, a shaky hysteria slithered into the girl’s head like a small, venomous snake.
CHAPTER 3
CHERRY LOOKED AT Madison doing the dishes. She felt as if an icy hand had crushed her heart and taken it out, leaving an empty, burning wound in her chest. It was as if her head was trapped in an invisible, soundproof bubble. Her uncertainty evolved into despair. Questions multiplied in her head. Urges to wake up and escape or to hide in Madison’s arms attacked her like the strong blows of a wind.
“Everything ok?” Felicia asked, her voice sounded as if she were underwater to Cherry’s ears.
“Yeah... I’m fine...” the girl muttered, but she was not fine.
She stood, trembling, hesitating to cut the thin string connecting her with normality and unable to make any decision. She digested the whole absurd situation over and over again. Who were these strange people? Were they ghost hunters or maybe exorcists? What if she had got the beginning of a psychosis? Those were the most rational explanations she could think of in her head. And what about her mother? Madison had been so unwell and so helpless recently.
There was also that one special thought, a unique one. It was a spark of sticky, bad blackness. Cherry had an opportunity to leave Madison’s problems and her own, miserable and lonely life behind. The spark smouldered only for an instant and Cherry threw away the ashes from her head at once. The guilt drummed inside her. Her selfishness scared her.
Cherry glanced at Felicia once more and calmed down. The kindness and concern in the woman’s eyes told her that she could believe Felicia. Imre, on the other hand, with his disturbing appearance, clear arrogance and curled lips, appeared a complete opposite of a trustworthy person. Cherry decided to avoid him at all costs. He did not seem to care about her at all, like she was a nuisance for him.
“Ok. I’ll go,” Cherry murmured. “You promise that my mum will be ok?”
“I promise. Hurry, Child. There is not much time!”
Felicia helped Cherry to pack some clothes and underwear and cosmetics. She loaded the pockets of the girl’s khaki parka with a strong smelling handful of sage and basil leaves. Cherry visited the toilet, at least five times. She felt as if she wanted to pee all the time. She hoped the pale boy had not noticed her strange actions. She was conscious that Felicia showed her a deep understanding. There was something special about the woman’s soothing composure and Cherry immediately trusted in her good will.
Thankfully, Imre had been engaged in an important task. He stood at the doorstep, quiet and efficient like a born warrior, assessing the cool calm of the night and from time to time, shooting Cherry impatient glances, as if he was in a hurry. He straightened up, holding an iron stake in his hand, and continued to observe the surroundings. Madison, on the other hand, behaved is if she were in a parallel universe, separating the laundry. Her mouth opened, humming a funny song. Cherry nearly admired her mother’s odd composure.
Exposed by a street lamp, the eerie scarlet mist coated the ground and plants in the front garden. With the houses of Daisy Close bathed in the darkness of deadly night, the people within the buildings slept, unaware of the danger. The majority of the houses were red bricked and remained slumped as if in deep lethargy against the infinite and gloomy sky filled with nonexistent stars. The rain was drizzling, and the threat lurked in the shadows.
Cherry walked out of the house, turned back and sent the last glance to her mum who was now watching TV. She hesitated a few seconds, wiping the tears flowing from her eyes. Stubborn doubts crossed her mind again. This was probably the stupidest decision in her life. However, she was determined to see it through. She clenched her fists and darted towards an old car parked along the row of three garages, her bag banging against her ribs, as Imre followed closely behind. They all got inside the car. Cherry took the back seat and sighed, placing her small bag next to her. Her companions settled into the front seats.
“They are watching us,” said Imre and started the engine. The car shot into the silent blackness, the sound of squealing tyres disturbing the sleep of the neighbourhood.
“Who are they?” asked Cherry, interrupting the uncomfortable lull that hung in the car as they rode fast, leaving the quiet suburb. Her voice was low and hoarse and her sweaty hands still shook.
“The Opyri. They are bloodthirsty vampires,” Felicia explained and twisted her chest to face Cherry. “Deadly blows of disease and pain, ‘Evil gusts of wind’ as some people say. They feed on suffering and misery. There are two of them.”
Cherry giggled, as the whole idea seemed extremely ridiculous and absurd to her. However, she fell silent after a few seconds, embarrassed by her reaction. Felicia’s expression was solemn.
“Are you serious? So who are you two? Are you vampire hunters?” Cherry tried to conceal her previous behavior but instead of a casual tone her speech stuttered.
“I am a healer. And Imre? He is my bodyguard,” Felicia continued. “The iron stake sends the Opyri away and the herbs act as an electric fence. Sage and basil represent the energy of love. I don’t know why these beasts fear love. They are vampires, but we can’t kill them,” she sighed. “It must be very difficult for you, Cherry. You are such a brave kid. I’m proud of you.”
“Thank you,” Cherry said timidly. She felt a squeeze of discomfort in her stomach. She had never been able to take compliments easily.
The car turned into a narrow road guarded by the high walls of luxuriant foliage on both sides. Cherry’s body swayed and her eyes grew heavy. Her lazy mind absorbed the peace of the foggy and mystical lane, pleading for sleep. The headlamps fished a staggering, middle-aged man out of the darkness. Unexpectedly, Imre slammed on the brakes. Cherry’s body made an uncontrolled movement forward and back. The seatbelt squeezed her chest and restrained her breathing for an instant. She lifted her head and looked ahead. There was nobody in the driver's seat. She looked further, through the windscreen.
The front lights disclosed Imre holding the limp stranger. The boy exposed his canine-like fangs. He bent his head and bit into the man's neck vessels. Blood spurted from the wounds and splashed Imre’s face and chest. Every second lasted for eternity. Every detail was clearly visible for Cherry. It was like a dream and she could not move.
Cherry’s breathing accelerated and her heart rate increased. She was so scared she could not think. Her whole being fought desperately in order not to acknowledge the meaning of the scene.
“Imre is a naughty boy,” Felicia murmured. She seemed ashamed and disappointed. She dropped her head and rested her forehead on her palm as if she wanted to apologise for the terrifying incident in front of the car.
Cherry unfastened her seatbelt and pulled the door handle with her numb hand. Her lifeless fingers tried to release the stubborn door, but they were useless and blunt. Time had stopped and her actions were played in a slow motion. It was like in a nightmare and she could not clear her escape route. The door opened from outside. Cherry lifted her eyes and she let out a long sigh of despair and disbelief. Imre had obstructed the way to her freedom.
“You are not flying anywhere, Birdie,” he said, shoving her in and taking a seat beside her. Blood was dripping from the corners of his mouth. He wiped his contaminated face with the sleeve of his hoody. Cherry’s bag fell down with a quiet puff in the space between the seats. The silence hung like an icicle.
The girl’s eyes filled with tears as she tried to stop the contents of her stomach from coming out. But she could not hold it any longer. Imre leaned over her, opened the door by her side and pushed her arm. She leaned out and Imre grabbed the back of her parka as she was throwing up. Dull cramps went through her stomach and a shot of acid burnt her throat. When she had finished vomiting Imre pulled her back inside. His pinning glance made her acutely aware that resistance would
be futile.
Felicia changed seats, and the car pulled away, passing the stranger, the same one that Imre had fed on, walking slowly in the opposite direction.
Cherry did not want to talk to anybody. She watched the changing landscape, but did not see anything.
She was still shaky with the horror she had seen, the images constantly coming back like a nagging fly. She wondered whether the bitten man had still been alive. Then she remembered what happened after and she sank into her humiliation. It consumed like volcanic lava and was taking her breath away, like drowning.
“Hungry?” Imre asked. He grinned and winked at her.
Cherry shook her head, the gesture more dramatic than she had intended. She wanted to jump out of the car, but her tight seatbelt and Imre’s piercing eyes kept her still and silent. She felt naked and exposed in her embarrassment, stunned by his bizarre actions.
A few minutes later she experienced something deeply disturbing, and it was inappropriate, too. She did not think of her mum or the threat following them. She could not focus on anything but… him. Her whole disgust and fear evaporated, replaced by the uncomfortable, sensual warmth radiating in her chest. His arm touching hers sent a tingly sensation spreading onto her skin. Imre’s body emitted an invisible aura of spicy and fruity, cool addiction. It made her mind swirl. She moved away from him as far as the cramped conditions would allow her and cringed, praying to reach the destination fast. She was unable to stop the wave of guilt that was rapidly approaching, not able to focus on her escape plan. He was so handsome, yet dangerous like a devil. A devil with appealing lips.
She rested her forehead on the cold side window and closed her eyes as the sensation from the touch of Imre’s cool fingers on the back of her hand forced its way through the fog in her head. Turning her face towards him, she realised that he had lessened the distance between them both and stared at her impertinently. She was so tiny compared to him and it felt like he had invaded her personal space. She withdrew her hand and adhered to the car door, almost merging with the uneven surface. An irony of her current situation was that in this moment, her exhaustion reached its highest point and her energy levels fluctuated around miserable zero. She let herself to have a nap, aware of this monster next to her watching her like he only waited for the opportunity to sink his fangs into her neck. Cherry did not even try to create questions in her mind about Imre's origins. The answers could destroy her sanity altogether.
CHAPTER 4
THEY ARRIVED IN a small village, Greydalk, and stopped in the parking lot at the back of a white, 18th century house with a rusty B&B sign. Its sash windows stared like real eyes, making the appearance of the house lighter, like a majestic piece of lace fabric.
Imre caught Cherry’s arm and dragged her out of the car. She leaned back to reach for her bag. Imre’s hand slid down her arm and clutched her hand in a cold, tight grasp. It was a strange feeling, a boy holding her hand. A monster holding her hand. To her horror, Cherry felt a timid excitement about it. In fact, her whole focus directed to his fingers entangled with hers. It was disturbing and at the same time tempting, this cool, tingling touch. She repeated in her mind that she was Imre’s prisoner and prisoners should not have been excited about being in captivity, but Imre just stripped her off her rational reasoning and her whole skin now tingled and flared.
"I don't have much time," Imre muttered. He seemed to be irritated, or maybe tired.
The world was in a grey transition. The darkness slowly retreated to give way to the upcoming sunrise that shyly painted the horizon and clouds with its rosy and gold autumnal harmony. Cherry breathed in the cool smell of soil and immersed herself into the fog crawling on the parking lot and coating the perfect shapes of the boxwood and germander hedging in the garden. The whole palette of greens emerged timidly, brushed with a silver sparkle of condensation.
Felicia unlocked the back door of the house and gestured for Cherry and Imre to come inside. Imre pulled Cherry’s hand, and they entered a nicely furnished, wooden kitchen. Imre released his grip and drew the flowery curtains. He switched on a light. Cherry inhaled the fresh smell of detergents and recalled an episode of the TV series about obsessive cleaners in her mind. Felicia seemed to be one of them. Every item in the kitchen belonged to a perfect order of colours and dimensions. The spotless glisten of the floor, designed to mimic tessellated marble, might have been used as a mirror. But somewhere in the background the old house breathed, exhaling the damp air of history; a unique scent of past centuries.
“I built a psychic protection around Westfad Manor,” Felicia said. “We should be safe here.”
Imre took off his hoody and Cherry noticed deep, oozing wounds on his chest and back as if he had seriously burnt his skin. Her face blushed. Imre was slim but surprisingly muscular. Staring at his bare chest made her somehow uncomfortable and nervous. Her experience with half naked boys was very limited. She had not dated anybody as her introverted nature deterred any potential candidates very effectively. Other people generally regarded her as an unavailable and haughty freak.
“Are you ok, Imre?” she asked, taking off her ballerina pumps. She put her bag neatly near her shoes.
“Felicia’s tinctures,” Imre replied. His voice was harsh and unpleasant. Not a nice invitation to a conversation.
“The wounds look horrible, really painful. You should see a doctor. You may need antibiotics,” Cherry continued. When she was nervous she tended to smother people with her kindness and care. This was a tiring habit which produced a lot of awkward situations in her life.
Imre turned his head and shot Cherry a freezing and paralysing look.
“Listen carefully, Birdie. I don’t need your compassion," he said, his voice was full of pride. “I keep Felicia alive and that’s all,” he added in a cold tone. He touched one of his wounds and hissed.
His response slapped Cherry’s face on both sides. It left two burning, red marks on her cheeks as she watched Imre leaving the kitchen and disappearing up the wide, white staircase. Her worst nightmares had attacked twice during only one night. Being humiliated was at the top of her list of phobias. She did not know whether to break down with fear, cry or just pretend that none of it had happened. Her nail biting resumed with an unpleasant fury.
“You've had a really bad day, Child. And I am sorry about Imre. He is wounded, in pain and probably tired of babysitting such an old healer like me," Felicia said. Her eyes looked tired and her paper like eyelids and greyish face demanded rest. "We are all very tired. Do you want to talk? I can make us some coffee..."
“If it's not a problem..."
***
Cherry took a reviving shower and brushed her teeth in a spacious, light bathroom with an antique, silver mirror and vintage, elegant furniture. She tied her wet hair in a high ponytail. When she came back to the kitchen, the delicious aroma of fresh coffee hit her nostrils and lovely smells of toast with jam, ham sandwiches and scones, left her mouth watering. She sat down opposite Felicia at the large table and reached for a slice of toast. Her stomach was still squeezed by a nervous tension, though. The memories of the last night’s incidents attacked her brain with vivid and terrifying images.
“Am I a prisoner?” she asked with a full mouth.
“No, Child. You can leave anytime you want, but let me explain first,” Felicia filled Cherry’s mug with black coffee.” Imre is sometimes very difficult… He is angry and impulsive.”
“Is he a…”
“Yes. He is a vampire, an ‘undead’. My herbal mixtures deter the Opyri, but they hurt him as well. This time I’ve used a lot of herbs. This is why he looks so horrible. He will heal a bit but as long as he stays here with us, my protection barriers will affect him.”
Cherry’s sleep deprived, dry eyes widened.
“There is also a curse. Imre is stuck with me. I mean...” Felicia paused as though trying to find the right words. “Imre was cursed by my coven about two centuries ago. He killed one of my ancestors and t
he others punished him. The curse says that Imre will burn when the last member of the coven crosses to the world of spirits.”
Cherry swallowed the last bite of her toast. She nearly choked. She coughed a few times and her watery eyes spotted the photos of Felicia and her family on the walls.
“My husband and daughter died in a car crash," Felicia clarified. She tried to sound casual, but her expression was dead and stiff like a mask for an instant. "My daughter was only sixteen and she was my only child. After the funeral, my coven faced the Opyri. They killed all except for me, three innocent lives taken... Imre sensed I had become the last dam against his end. He appeared from nowhere and fought with the Opyri to save my life. We managed to escape. He decided to be my ally,” Felicia paused and took a deep breath.” I think I survived the car accident only to fulfill my purpose of finding and protecting you. I am alive for you and for Imre.”
A moment of heavy silence hung between the two women. Cherry felt as if the thick glue had immobilised her speech. Her face was hot like boiling water as she tried to find the right words but her exhausted head contained only emptiness.
“The Opyri are not from our world. They are superior to... other vampire species. They are different from the vampires that I know,” Felicia continued with a false calm in her voice. “They probably first invaded our plane during the Mesopotamian Empire. And since then our coven have existed. The Opyri vanished, but the members of our coven have been born with the message imprinted in their genes, generation after generation. My message is the satin bowerbird and the knowledge of how to transform the primeval Earth energy against these beasts. My satin bowerbird has haunted me since I was a child, an image like a hologram. But eighteen years ago I felt an unstoppable urge to find and protect it and this urge got me out of bed every morning since my family died.”
