Requiem of Humanity

by Catherine Stovall

  The car came to a stop and Matteo opened the door. Cursing the brightness outside the car, he grabbed for his sunglasses. Having the ability to walk in the sun did not make it any easier on the eyes. Jenda quickly slid on a pair of black tinted glasses as she took his hand and stepped out of the car.

  The site of the castle transfixed her. Tilting her head all the way back, Jenda gazed up at the magnificent beauty. The massive Gothic style towers loomed up into the cloudless sky and cast their long shadows across the ground. Something in her longed to reach out and touch the stones. They whispered to her that this, indeed, was the thing she felt she was missing all her life.

  She felt propelled to the main entrance. Something was pulling at her very soul, as if saying, Welcome home. She loved every brick, every high pointed spire, every door, and every window. Nothing had ever felt so right to her as being on the doorstep of the great castle.

  Matteo’s strong grasp stopped her from going up the stairs. “Not that way my darling, not that way.” Jenda was so distracted she tried to pull away. The blinding sunlight pierced through to her heavily guarded eyes. She dropped her gaze to the stones beneath her feet in an attempt to save them from the pain, only to be amazed again. The sun glittered off strange inscriptions etched in what looked like gold dust spread through the walk.

  She wanted to kneel and touch them with her bare hands. She could almost see their meaning in her mind, as if they were familiar names on the tip of her tongue that she just could not place. Her voice sounded far away as she heard herself ask, “What are they?”

  Matteo no longer looked patient and his grip on her arm tightened. His voice was rough when he called her name. “Jenda, come now, come with me. You will get us all killed.” He tugged her quickly behind him. His fingers dug painfully into her flesh and she didn’t try to fight because she was afraid the bone might snap. She struggled to keep up with his long strides. With each step, a disorienting fear built inside her. Matteo looked more than angry, he looked frightened, and of all things, it seemed she frightened him.

  Matteo strode closer to the castle, dragging Jenda behind him. She winced in discomfort as sharp pains shot from elbow to shoulder. Stopping next to the castle wall, Matteo glanced around nervously before bending down and pressing a brick close to Jenda’s knee. The sound of stone grinding on stone surprised her. She tried to step back but Matteo held her in place. The wall slid open, revealing a dark entrance. The opening was barely wide enough for a human to enter and so low Matteo had to duck to enter. Jenda obediently followed behind him as he stepped into the chill and darkness.

  Jenda’s voice was barely a whisper. “What about Soborgne? We will never get the casket through here.” She bit her lip while she waited for Matteo’s response. His behavior made her wary of how he may react. Even when she attacked him, even when she provoked him, he never hurt her like that. Of course, she was human and breakable then.

  “We will make arrangements. Just stay close and we will be out of this damnable crawl space in a moment.” His voice was tight with frustration and worry. Jenda decided it was best just to listen to him. Truthfully, she wanted nothing more than to get out of the dark enclosed space. It smelled of dust and mildew. She could feel the cobwebs clinging to her hair. Being a vampire did not make spiders less creepy.

  The faint echo of their steps barely sounded before the shadows seemed to swallow it. Jenda tried to be stealthy, but her sight was not yet powerful enough to focus in the blackout darkness. As they made their way down a long and twisting stone corridor, she thought about Matteo. He was not speaking to her, but perhaps he was just being cautious. He also wasn’t trying to comfort her, which was strange. He was usually attentive, and even when they first met had treated her gently.

  He released her arm and she could feel precise stings where each of his fingers had bitten into her flesh. No doubt, the bruises would heal before they reached the end of this nightmarish tunnel. The healing was a good thing, but it didn’t make the fact he’d caused the bruises any less serious.

  Jenda wondered to herself, Is this how it will be from now on? Now that I’m not human and he can’t easily snap me into, will he have no care for my physical safety and comfort? The questions were frightening and the answers seemed to be in the tightness of her sore arm and the lingering feeling of his bruising touch.

  Jenda felt a rage rising up in her. She seemed always to play the victim and Matteo the hero. Only twice had she acted as if she had some sense. The first time was when, influenced by the insanity of the change, she initiated the attack on Belle. The second time was during the fight in the alley. In those moments, her decisions were based on life and death. Lost in the gloom, Jenda did not feel brave, fierce, or strong. She was allowing an overgrown jerk to pull her around like a dog on a leash. Her own disappointment in her actions fueled the fire more.

  Just as she was about to open her mouth and give him a piece of her mind, Matteo stopped. He directed her attention ahead. A sliver of shadowy light ran in a thin line where the wall met the floor. He placed one finger gently to her lips and Jenda fought the urge to bite off the end. They edged closer to the door and Matteo began running his hands along the wall, searching for the trigger to open it. After a few minutes, Jenda heard the familiar sound of stone scraping and the faint light grew bigger as the door opened.

  The light wasn’t much better outside the tunnel. The light from a few low burning candles glowed near the far wall. Their faulty and flickering glow seemed to enhance the shadows and darkness rather than provide any real light. It appeared as if they were standing in a long forgotten and unused wine cellar. It wasn’t unpleasant, simply a little overwhelming.

  Wooden barrels stood in the corners, some of them leaking a sticky sweet liquid slowly onto the rough stone floor. The glint of candlelight on hundreds of bottles stored in the back recesses of the room caught Jenda’s eye. A musty smell of rotted wood, sugary wine, and dust filled her nostrils.

  As soon as the hidden door closed behind them, Matteo and Jenda found themselves surrounded. Four male vampires stepped from the shadows and formed a half circle around them. Despite the dazed and blurry look in their eyes, a sense of danger poured from the men. Matteo was instantly on guard He did not expect others to be awake during daylight and prepared for their visit.Vampires only gave up their daily slumber in the direst of situations. The risk to their lives was great during this time, and their natural instinct drove them into an almost coma-like sleep. Only the very old and very powerful could withstand the effort it took to be awake while the sun was in the sky. Matteo didn’t think the situation could get much worse.

  Jenda froze. She did not know if she should turn around and run back into the darkness or stay where she was. The pressure in her upper jaw foretold her body’s response to fear. Her fangs lengthened painfully inside her mouth. She stood tall, staring at the vampire closest to her. She sized him up, looking for weakness, contemplating strategy. The deadly quiet only lasted a few seconds, but to Jenda, it seemed an eternity.

  Another vampire began approaching out of the blackness from behind the others. He had a well-built physique, but nothing compared to the four mammoths staring them down. Taking large confident strides as he came closer, a familiar and predatory smile spread across his face. Jenda certainly hoped that not all vampires made themselves look so demonic. She really hoped that she never did. The way they managed to turn a smile into such an unnerving gesture was uncanny.

  The man looked as if he had been in his thirties when he was changed. Jenda guessed that he was a Hungarian native. Many of his features resembled those of the people they passed in the streets. His skin was the real oddity. Jenda didn’t know many vampires, but those she knew were Caucasian or very light skinned in life. The man approaching them now was the color of heavily creamed coffee. It reminded her of something thick and sumptuous.

  Matteo stiffened and stepped forward, placing himself in a protective stance in front of her. The man stoppe
d behind the vampire soldiers and very slowly let his eyes move up and down her and Matteo’s bodies. His glance was not appreciative, nor was it inappropriate. His eyes held thoughtfulness and disbelief. Then, to her surprise, the vampire spoke in a short rapid burst and the guards turned to walk away.

  “Greetings, Matteo Angelleti. What brings you, of all vampires, to Vajdahunyad?” The man’s voice sounded much older than he appeared to be. His accent wasn’t heavy, but a clear hint of Hungarian thickened the syllables.

  “Imre Varga, it is blessed that we meet you.” The recognition in Matteo’s voice was apparent, but he still stood his ground as if ready to fight for their lives.

  “Who is this little one that you are so unsuccessfully hiding behind you? Come little one; step out here so I may see you.” Matteo made a low growl, but motioned for Jenda to do what Imre asked. Stepping one very small step to the side and reaching to clasp Matteo’s hand, Jenda presented herself to the vampire.

  “I’m pleased to meet you, Sir Varga.” She meant it to sound self-possessed and formal, but instead she sounded young and frightened.

  Imre smiled at her again and she felt like a sheep staring into the eyes of a hungry wolf. She suddenly began to wonder if vampires commonly ate other vampires. Her mind flashed back to the night she made the change. The way she and Matteo ripped at Belle’s throat with their own fangs flashed in her mind. She knew the answer to her question immediately. Vampires did eat each other, for lack of better wording. When they could gain something from the other’s death, it was a natural choice. A shiver of fear ran down Jenda’s spine and she held tighter to Matteo’s hand.

  “I have come to consult the Lady. I must gain council with her in matters that don’t concern you, Imre. I ask that you allow us passage and the use of your humans to assist a friend who is waiting outside.” Matteo’s voice was steady. He wasn’t asking, and the look on Imre’s face told her that she wasn’t the only one who noticed.

  Imre moved so quickly that he was nothing but a blur. Before her mind could register what was happening, a strong hand shoved Jenda and she toppled back several feet and onto the stone floor. She landed with a surprised thud, looking up to see that Imre stood less than an inch from Matteo. The two vampires were chest to chest, staring at each other with red glowing eyes.

  “How dare you? You do not come into my home and order me around! We know what has become of you Matteo, the slayer of his own ilk! Those dark whispers preceded you. I know you are hunted by the Dracul. You drank her blood dry, cut off her head, and then burned it in her own hearth! Now you and this child come here seeking the Lady. I will not stand by and allow you to poison us with your tainted blood. Day walker!” His words were venomous barbs. The way he said day walker made Jenda’s blood turn cold. What curse did they bring upon themselves, if other vampires spat the word as if it were the lowest of things?

  “I came here for the Lady, and though you fancy yourself ruler of this great city, she is the ruler of you, as she has always been. You will let my friends and I pass. I will see to that myself if I have to, Imre.” Matteo was livid, and close to snarling like a mad hound.

  Jenda was afraid for all of their lives. She could see the shadows in the corners. The other guards were still close by. If this turned into a battle, she and Matteo would not win. Terrified of what would come next, Jenda stood. She cautiously stepped forward, which earned her a menacing growl from both the warring males. She wanted to run away, but she laid a hand on each of their chests.

  “Now gentleman, I do not think it is very polite to snarl and growl at each other. We are guest in Imre’s house, Matteo; please show some gratitude. Imre, you are not being very hospitable. Has no one ever taught either of you, throughout all your years, some manners?” She didn’t know if it would work, but she had to do something, and obviously trying to rip someone’s throat out wouldn’t have done any good.

  A long silent moment in which no one spoke, blinked, or breathed stretched across the void. The tension hung between the three of them in a heavy fog of anger. Finally, Imre smiled and took a very small step back. His move allowed three or four inches of space between him and Matteo. The move was not a concession, it was an allowance. Imre’s look told them clearly he was still master here.

  “Your young companion is quite right, Matteo. This is no way to treat an old friend and his beautiful entourage.” The last part he complimented with a leering glance towards Jenda. “I shall allow you entrance, and I will see that your other friend is brought in from the dangers of the sun. As for the Lady, she will either grant you council or grant you death. She has no other way, as you know. She is a gentle woman who rules under no law but her own. We will see how she fancies you now that you have become this. I am going back to my rest.” With a courteous bow, Imre turned and walked away.

  2

  A young Hungarian boy escorted Matteo and Jenda. He was close to Jenda’s age, possibly a little younger. He introduced himself—not by name, but as the Lady’s Chosen One. Matteo translated to her because, apparently, the Chosen One spoke no English. Seeing him reminded Jenda of the human servants in Belle’s compound. The vampires there used humans as workhorses and for their never-ending supply of blood in the most brutal manner.

  The boy wasn’t handsome—his features were to fine for that. Jenda couldn’t help but think of him as beautiful. His dark eyes were doe-like in their innocence and his lustrous black hair hung to his shoulders where a touch of natural curl caused it to twist at the end. He walked with his head high and a straight back. As she guessed the Lady’s Chosen One should, he held himself with great confidence.

  Matteo spoke to the boy as they walked through the castle’s many halls. The rough stone gave away to beautiful polished marble and granite. Decorative moldings of beautiful women lounging together lined the ceilings. Stained glass windows colored the light that filtered through, leaving a mosaic of colors to reflect onto the floors. This would not be a tour though. They were given no time to ask questions about the statues that lingered in the hall or the paintings that hung to the left and right. Jenda openly gawked at the rich splendor surrounding her.

  At the top of a tall flight of stairs, the trio veered to the right and entered a long hallway. Golden candles in gold tapers lighted the way. Everything was pure golden perfection. Gilded frames hung on gold foil wallpaper, and the many doors to rooms they passed had golden handles, eyeholes, and knockers. Even the black marble floors had veins of gold.

  Peering closely at the closed doors she saw the same shimmering gold dust symbols as the sidewalk outside before Matteo dragged her away. Jenda’s newly found vampire vision enhanced the tiny flames reflecting from every object and left her dumbstruck by the beauty. She forgot herself completely, forgot her anger at Matteo, and let the seriousness of the situation slip by as she exclaimed in the awe of her surroundings.

  “Oh Matteo. It’s as if we are in the Kingdom of Midas. The gold is everywhere. Do you think it’s all real?” Embarrassed by her childish glee, Jenda covered her mouth with her hands. She knew that if she were still human the blood would be turning her cheeks a bright rosy red. The thought of blood made her jaw ache. She hadn’t eaten very much on the plane and she was growing hungry again.

  Matteo smiled endearingly at her, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. He still looked at her as if she were something not human, not vampire, something more frightening. “In fact my darling, that is what the Lady calls this hall—the Hall of Midas. If we are blessed enough to seek a short residence here, you will find that almost every place of significance here has a name from human myth, legend, or fable. The Lady is quite interested in all things human, though she has not been one herself for a very long time.”

  By the time he finished talking, they had reached their destination. The three of them paused in front of a door. No different from the others that lined the hallway on both sides, but obviously of importance to the young man that accompanied them. He ran his open hand in fron
t of the door, palm out as he whispered words she couldn’t understand. He did not touch the wood, but Jenda could see the symbols there swirl and come to life. She gasped and took a step back. The boy looked at her suspiciously for a moment with narrowed eyes and then opened the door.

  Inside was a luscious bedroom suite. The carpet was thick and precisely the color of fresh blood. Jenda’s mind reeled. Blood—she would need some soon. The ache in her jaw was becoming painful.

  A large red oak desk filled one corner and looked brand new, though Jenda knew it was probably older than Matteo. Tiger Lilly blooms topped the various tables and the scent was powerful and sweet. All these things were insignificant in comparison to the large bed that commanded the attention of the room’s occupants. Jenda guessed it would hold six people comfortably. Gilded chains—the size of those used in logging—held the bed suspended two feet above the floor.

  While Jenda strolled around the room examining the small luxuries, Matteo spoke with the boy. She couldn’t understand what they were saying, but she understood that he was making a request. She hoped for Soborgne’s sake that it was to have Soborgne brought to them. The sun would be setting in a few hours and her friend would not be too happy about waking up alone, much less inside a coffin.

  Jenda’s eyes kept casting back to the open door. She felt urgency, a need to lay her hands upon the symbols. Again, she had the feeling of knowing what they were, of having the thought on the tip of her tongue. She unconsciously rubbed her arm where Matteo’s fingers had cruelly dug into her flesh. The memory sparked her anger again and the room began to lose some of its majesty.

  His behavior before was both callous and hurtful. She couldn’t let it go, and she grew angrier as she waited for him to finish with the Lady’s Chosen One. Forgetting the beauty around her and silencing the call of the strange symbols, her mind held her anger tightly. She would not allow him to treat her that way. There seemed to be something pushing at the raw nerve of memory inside her. Something was telling her repeatedly that she was too special to allow this. Poor, sweet, misguided Jenda would no longer stand to be the puppet. Not now that she was powerful, immortal, and strong.