The Vampire Knife

by Jack Henseleit

‘I can’t control it!’ spluttered Max. He grabbed his wrist with his good hand, straining as valiantly as he could. ‘I don’t know what’s happening!’

  ‘It’s the strigoi!’ said Isabella. ‘Look!’

  The vampire had raised one of its own hands up to the window pane. Its long fingers were dancing in the misty air, spinning around in weird and intricate patterns. It looked like it was controlling an invisible marionette. The vampire’s lips were also moving. Anna watched them closely, and for one moment she heard a string of strange words that felt terrible in her ears.

  And in that moment, the eagle banner was snatched from her hands.

  Anna whirled around. The blue fabric was now clutched in Max’s white-knuckled fist.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she exclaimed.

  The dead hand picked up its pace, surging across the room towards the window. Max dug his heels into the floorboards, trying to stop the hand’s progress; the hand struggled with such force that he was nearly pulled over.

  Anna grabbed the trailing end of the banner, pulling it back towards the fireplace. The hand – and Max – spun around to face her.

  ‘Let go!’ she said sternly.

  ‘I can’t!’ whimpered Max.

  The hand tugged rapidly at the banner, almost succeeding in wrenching it through Anna’s fingers. Anna quickly took hold of her end with both hands, tensing her arms and legs. The banner went taut, stretched between the two siblings.

  ‘You can’t have it!’ Anna shouted at the window. ‘We stole it, and now we’re going to burn it, and then that’ll be the end of you. There’s nothing you can do about it, so give up!’

  The dead fingers opened.

  Anna had been pulling on the banner with all her strength, so the sudden release sent her flying backwards. She stumbled, falling over and hitting her head against the leg of the table. A sharp pain shot out from just above her ear, ringing through her thoughts. Had she really just convinced the vampire to give in? Was it really prepared to accept its fate and let them burn the banner? Anna tried to look around, but her eyes were watering, blurring her vision. She sat up, blinking away tears.

  And then Max punched her in the nose.

  Anna fell to the ground. She looked up woozily to see Max standing above her, his fingers waggling, stretching themselves after the blow.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Max whispered. His mouth was hanging open, horrified at what he had just done. ‘I would never mean to hit you. Never, Anna.’

  But even as he said it, the hand was already pulling him down, ready to strike again. It changed direction at the last moment, swivelling towards the banner instead. Anna watched as the cold fingers seized the fabric, drawing it away from her.

  Anna didn’t feel as if she could stand up again, at least not right away. She turned her head to look at Isabella, hoping she could save them, but Isabella remained hunched over the fireplace, carefully adding more wood to her pile. Then her eyes fell on the white knife, only metres away. Anna rolled across the floor to it, desperately reaching for its leather-wrapped handle.

  The window pane shattered.

  The window pane shattered. The air was filled with smithereens of glass as the storm winds rushed in. Max had almost reached the vampire. The monster stretched its spider-arm through the broken window, ready to receive the one thing it needed to stay alive.

  Anna’s fingers closed around the hilt of the knife.

  ‘Bear!’ she yelled. ‘Get the banner!’

  The spell hadn’t worked when she’d tried it on the wolves – would it work now?

  To her great relief, Anna heard the scuffling sound of paws as the bear charged forward. It chomped its teeth down on the trailing end of the banner, hauling Max away from the window. The bear shook its head back and forth, trying to wrestle the banner from the dead hand. The banner began to shake loose, slowly slipping through the deathly grip.

  And then Isabella appeared at the bear’s side. She added her weight to the tug o’ war, and with one final pull the banner flew free.

  ‘Thanks!’ she said, grinning.

  Anna looked at the fireplace. A roaring fire was burning in the hearth.

  The vampire screamed. Its arms seemed to lengthen as it lunged through the smashed window, stretching out to impossible proportions, swiping furiously at the children.

  Isabella dropped the fabric onto the flames.

  It must have been a beautiful banner, once upon a time. The sky looked clear and limitless; the eagle was proud and majestic, strong enough to carry the moon itself in its golden talons. For a moment the great bird shone brighter than ever as the orange sparks wove their way between the fibres, transforming the eagle into the phoenix of legend, its feathers ablaze. Then the fire took root, and the eagle was burnt to black, and the final possession of the count on the mountain was eaten away.

  The vampire had stopped screaming. It seemed to be frozen in place. Anna watched as its white eyes winked away, as if the rain had finally succeeded in snuffing out its fury. Shadows swirled around its arms, which were still reaching through the window – and then Anna blinked, and suddenly it was only shadows that remained where the vampire had stood, floating harmlessly around the walls of the inn.

  Max had fallen against the bear. They sat together on one side of the room; Max was still staring out of the empty window, his hand seemingly back under his own control. Isabella was slumped against the fireplace, breathing heavily, her face stained with smoke. Anna took hold of the table leg and dragged herself up.

  The three children stared at each other, none of them speaking a word.

  The clouds in the sky vanished as one, taking with them the mist and the winds and the rain. The first rays of sunlight peeked over the horizon, shining through the window, filling the room with a warm radiance.

  It was a new day.

  16

  PARTING GIFTS

  For the rest of the morning, the children slept. They curled up together in Isabella’s bed, peaceful and safe, dreaming pleasant dreams. When they woke up the sun was high in the afternoon sky. Mrs Dalca was bustling around the front room, sweeping up the broken glass with a straw-bristled broom.

  ‘Isabella!’ cried the old woman upon seeing the children.

  Isabella ran to her grandmother, who immediately swooped her into a loving embrace. Anna watched the two of them hug, feeling bad that she had once suspected Mrs Dalca was a witch.

  ‘We’ve had the biggest adventure, Granny,’ said Isabella. ‘We walked all the way to the old count’s castle, and when we went inside …’

  ‘Nu vreau să știu!’ interrupted the old woman. She raised a wrinkled hand and traced a pattern in the air.

  Isabella looked up at her, puzzled.

  ‘But Grandma, Max got taken in the night. We had to go and fight …’

  Mrs Dalca covered her ears.

  ‘Nu-mi spune acest lucru,’ she croaked. ‘Mă va pune în pericol!’

  ‘What is she saying?’ asked Anna.

  Isabella frowned. ‘She says she doesn’t want to know. She says it’ll put her in danger.’

  ‘How come?’ said Max.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ said Isabella sadly.

  They watched as Mrs Dalca shuffled away with her broom, sweeping at the shadows in the corner of the inn.

  The children decided to go for a walk. They had let the bear out of the inn before they fell asleep, and now they hoped to find it so they could thank it for its help. Isabella had taken two red apples from the pantry to give to the bear as a gift. Anna held the white knife by her side, just in case.

  It was a beautiful day. The children raised their faces to the sun, enjoying the touch of warm light on their cheeks. Wildflowers were blooming in the back field, speckling the grass with bursts of purple and blue and red. The air smelt sweet and fresh.

  As they walked along they compared each of the new scars they had received on their adventure. Isabella had a mark on her ankle from where the fairy prisoner had held he
r. It was shaped, appropriately, like a handprint: the skin was red and swollen, almost like she had been burnt. Anna’s best new scar was the one she had accidentally given herself with the point of the knife. The tip of her finger was now wrapped in a bandage, applied by Isabella the night before. The cut was taking an unusually long time to heal over.

  Both girls agreed, however, that the most impressive injuries of all were the two puncture wounds in Max’s palm. They made quite a big deal of this, and Max began to feel proud of his new, strange, dead hand. He waved it through the air as they strolled across the field, showing it off as much as he could.

  They found the bear at the edge of the forest, reclining lazily in the shade of a tree. Sitting against the tree was a tall, thin man with a tangle of grey hair cascading around his pointed face. His clothing was a strange mixture of green and grey, as if the fabric had been woven from leaves and ash. It hung from his skin like a coat of scales, shimmering in the breeze.

  ‘Who are you?’ said Anna.

  The man opened his eyes, and Anna knew at once who she was speaking to. The eyes were just as bright and yellow as the first time she had seen them.

  ‘Hello, Rose,’ said the prisoner from the castle.

  Max opened his mouth to say something, confused; the girls hadn’t told him about their secret names. Anna quickly trod on his foot.

  ‘Hello,’ she said confidently. ‘It looks like you got out after all.’

  The ex-prisoner ran a hand across the bear’s shaggy head. It growled contentedly.

  ‘I have had a very fortuitous day,’ he said. ‘An unexpected meal. An unlocked door. A rope to help me up the steps. And now it seems as if the creature from the castle has been defeated, once and for all.’

  ‘Yes, it has,’ said Anna. ‘You’re welcome.’

  The fairy-man frowned.

  ‘This was not a job for children,’ he said. ‘Humans should not meddle in the affairs of the old wood.’

  ‘The vampire meddled with us first,’ said Anna. ‘So there.’

  The yellow eyes twinkled. Anna wasn’t sure if the man was angry or amused.

  Isabella knelt down and held one of the apples under the bear’s nose. It sniffed curiously at the fruit before taking a large bite, crunching the white flesh between its teeth. It seemed to be very pleased with the present.

  ‘What will you do with the knife?’ asked the man.

  Anna hadn’t thought about it. She glanced down at the blade in her hand. It was glimmering silver in the sunshine, reflecting the light so brightly it almost hurt her eyes.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ said Anna. ‘What do you think I should do with it?’

  The fairy-man tilted his head.

  ‘There will be consequences to keeping it,’ he said. ‘For it is not a thing which should be held by human hands. There are monsters in the world far worse than the creature that dwelt in these woods, and their attentions would certainly be drawn to a weapon such as this.’

  ‘How did it get in my granny’s inn, then?’ asked Isabella, patting the bear behind the ears.

  The fairy-man closed his eyes. When he spoke again, Anna was struck by the tenderness in his voice – a world apart from the cold, rasping words he had spoken in the cell.

  ‘A young traveller brought the knife to this forest,’ he said. ‘He was a great warrior, who had hoped to free the monster from its curse by entering its lair and destroying its last token of life. He succeeded in beating back the beast and finding the flag, but in doing so he received a grave wound. He staggered back through the woods, knowing that the creature would soon be upon him.’

  ‘That’s a lot like our story,’ said Max. ‘Except this one doesn’t sound like it will have a happy ending.’

  The man gave a cold smile.

  ‘The traveller met a young girl in the woods, and he thrust the knife and the banner upon her, for he did not want either of them to fall back into the hands of the beast. Then the monster caught him, and bit him, and dragged him back to the dungeon beneath its castle. It drank from his veins every day for sixty years, until there was no blood left to be stolen.’

  Anna and Isabella had heard a shorter version of this story before, back in the vampire’s lair – except the last time the man had told it, he had said the traveller was searching for his brother. Anna remembered the hundreds of bite marks she had seen across the man’s arms and chest. She remembered something else, too: a line from her book of fairy tales.

  When a fairy dies, their magic does not always die with them. The trapped magic can sometimes transform their body into an entirely different creature.

  ‘You were the traveller,’ said Anna, slowly working it out. ‘And the vampire used to be your brother.’

  ‘And the little girl must have been Granny Dalca,’ said Isabella. ‘That’s how the knife ended up at the inn. If she’d only known what the banner was, she could have ended all this years ago.’

  Anna tried to imagine the scene the man had described. She pictured a little girl with grey-white hair running through the forest at night, trying not to scream as she listened to the cries of the wounded man she had left behind. Had the floorboard in the bedroom always been loose, or had the girl prised it open so she could hide the knife in a secret place? And why hadn’t she hidden the banner with it? Anna supposed that it must have looked too pretty to stow away in the dark.

  The man was now regarding the children in silence. Anna shook her head, holding up the shining white dagger. Now she knew it had once belonged to the fairy. Did that mean she would have to give it back to him?

  ‘I will not ask for the knife,’ said the man, as if reading her thoughts. ‘I have no further use for it. But I will take it from you if you wish, should you not want to be burdened with its ownership.’

  Anna turned to Isabella and Max. ‘What do you think we should do?’

  ‘Give it back,’ said Max.

  ‘Keep it,’ said Isabella, almost at the same time.

  Anna laughed. She raised the knife into the air, slicing sunbeams with its pale edge.

  ‘We got attacked by a monster before we even knew the knife existed,’ she said. ‘What if that happens again? We might need some magic to help us.’

  Max groaned; Isabella nodded in agreement. Anna turned back to the fairy-man.

  ‘We wish to keep it,’ she said.

  The man reached into the pocket of his scaly coat. He pulled out a small scabbard made of the same green-grey material as his clothing, tied to a belt made of woven grass.

  ‘The blade is yours to bear, then,’ he said. ‘Keep it sheathed as often as you can. It is a strange and terrible thing, and there are many who seek such powers, in my world and yours. Just as it was stolen from its first master, so too may it be stolen again.’ The man glanced meaningfully at the trees. ‘You will never know when wicked eyes may be watching.’

  Anna took the scabbard. She tied the grass belt around her waist, sliding the knife inside. The weapon hung easily by her waist, completely weightless.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said.

  The fairy-man smiled, but the smile was not a pleasant one.

  ‘I do you no great favours,’ he said. ‘To see the people of the old wood is a curse. To know of our affairs is to invite us into your own lives, for good or ill. You may come to regret the decision you have made this day.’

  ‘Maybe,’ said Anna. ‘But thanks anyway.’

  Isabella gave the bear the second apple. It chomped enthusiastically at the rosy skin, juice dripping down its muzzle.

  The fairy-man stood up, towering above the children. Anna hadn’t realised how tall he was.

  ‘Do not speak freely of the things you have seen,’ he said. His voice was darker now, closer to the twisting words he had whispered in the dungeon. ‘You have chosen to court danger, but others have not. It is not your place to force the choice upon them.’

  Max looked nervously at Anna. ‘We can tell Dad, though, can’t we?’

  Anna sta
red into the yellow eyes of the fairy. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I don’t think we can.’

  The man nodded. Without saying another word he turned and walked into the forest, his coat immediately camouflaged against the trunks of the trees. The bear jumped up as well. It gave Isabella’s hand a brief lick, and then it too turned and ambled into the woods. In moments both the man and the bear had disappeared, lost in a haze of drifting leaves.

  17

  BEDTIME STORIES

  The professor returned to the inn just in time for dinner. He carried a huge stack of papers, each sheet covered in closely scribbled notes. His eyes were red and bloodshot, and his hair was a mess. Anna could tell just by looking at him that he’d barely slept since he left them the day before.

  ‘It was fascinating,’ he said through a mouthful of soup. ‘Absolutely fascinating. The history in these woods – well, it’s astonishing just how much has gone on.’

  ‘What did you find out?’ asked Anna curiously.

  ‘Well, there are some wonderful local legends,’ said the Professor. ‘There was a count who ruled over this area, and when he died the forest people burnt down his castle. They thought he might return as a vampire, you see. Do you know anything about vampires?’

  ‘Yes, I know a little bit,’ said Anna truthfully.

  ‘Well, the whole thing was ridiculous,’ said the Professor. ‘But the thing is, since the count died, people have been disappearing. Isn’t that curious? It must just be the wolves, of course, but there are numerous records of people blaming the vampire. They call it the strigoi, here. Do you know that word, Isabella?’

  ‘Yes, I think I’ve heard it before,’ said Isabella.

  ‘That’s interesting,’ said the Professor. He smiled. ‘I wonder how much your grandmother knows about it all. She certainly puts a lot of garlic in this soup. Maybe it’s to keep the vampires away!’

  ‘Yes, that’s probably why,’ said Max, raising his spoon to his lips. He dropped it back into his empty bowl – he had eaten every single mouthful of the peppery stew.