Requiem of Humanity

by Catherine Stovall

  Upon entering the room, it was evident the destruction continued full force beyond the entryway. As if in the path of a tornado, nothing but dust and rubble stood where priceless artifacts once were. Even the glass doors leading out into the gardens lay in a shattered heap. The room was such a chaotic disaster that Jenda wouldn’t have noticed the blood if it wasn’t for her vampire senses. As she crossed the room, the smell hit her, pungent and strong. Matteo smelled it too. He silently cautioned Jenda to wait for him and together they searched for Celeste.

  When they found Celeste, her body lay draped across the statue of her creator with sick abandon. Rivulets of blood ran from her lifeless limbs and streaked down the front of the statue’s robes. The blood pooled beneath an inscription that read, ANONYMOUS. A stake rose up out of her breast and blood stained the pure white of her dressing gown. They could not see any outward sign of life. Matteo gently lifted Celeste’s body into his arms and Jenda whispered, “Is she gone?”

  Matteo had tears streaming down his face as he knelt to lay his oldest friend on the flagstones of the path. “Not yet, but the stake has pierced her heart. She does not have long for this world. We must act quickly.”

  Without a word, Jenda ran back towards the gardens. She must find blood. If she or Matteo were to use their own, they would have no way of telling what damage or changes it may make. The power that resided in their blood was still a mystery, and they would not risk the only chance they had to rescue the Lady. Her only hope was to find one of the servants, and soon.

  Partway through the garden, Jenda saw the Chosen One. She didn’t explain, and somehow she didn’t need to. The moment Jenda uttered Celeste’s name the boy responded. He told Jenda in broken English, “Take me to her, my blood is hers.”

  Rushing back to Matteo’s side, Jenda and the Chosen One knelt beside Celeste as well and listened as Matteo worked at preparing the body and explained what they must do. When he was sure Jenda understood, they began the process. Matteo gripped the end of the stake with both hands, bracing himself for what would come next.

  Jenda knelt above the lifeless body, the witch’s athame in hand. “One…two…three!” Matteo counted down to the moment, and then with all his strength he wrenched the stake from Celeste’s chest.

  At the same time, Jenda slashed the dagger across the boy’s wrist and let the blood flow from him into the gaping hole in Celeste’s chest. The blood that bubbled up and out of Celeste met with the blood from The Chosen One and seemed to flow backwards. The wound began to close bit by bit, but The Chosen One would die if he lost too much blood. Jenda didn’t want either of them to die. When she hesitated, the boy surprised her by taking the knife from her hand and wielding it fiercely to make deeper cuts in his arms.

  The Chosen One used all his strength to drain as much of his blood as he could into Celeste’s gaping wound. At last, the hole created by the stake was closed. The boy collapsed next to his love. The tragic moment was sad and beautiful. He had gallantly given his everything for his mistress. Matteo and Jenda carried the unconscious pair back to Celeste’s suite.

  An eerie silence seeped throughout the rooms. The warriors drove the attackers back. Jenda followed Matteo into one of the main room’s many antechambers. She carried the boy as if he were a sleeping child into a spacious and undisturbed bedroom. The cleanliness here contrasted so greatly with the devastation only feet away.

  Matteo laid Celeste’s body gingerly onto the solid white comforter and Jenda absently thought of the blood staining the ivory colored cloth. He took the boy from Jenda and laid him gently beside Celeste. Jenda shivered at the beauty of the love that would die if Celeste and her Chosen One parted this world together. Knowing that a human could love a vampire so much that he would be willing to sacrifice his own life for her made Jenda even fonder of the boy lying next to Celeste.

  Her voice quivered with the tenderness of the moment when she asked, “Will they survive?”

  “I’m not sure. We have done what we could.” Matteo stared mournfully down at his friend. He didn’t try to hide the ribbons of blood tears that were streaming down his face. Most men would wipe them away, but he wore them proudly.

  They heard the sound of footsteps and shouts from the hallway outside the chamber doors. Matteo and Jenda jumped at the noise and ran towards the main chamber. They were ready to fight to the death to defend Celeste’s helpless body. To their relief, Imre and a few other vampires Jenda did not recognize entered.

  Imre’s face contorted into a veil of rage and pain. His voice boomed as he stared Matteo down. “Where is she?”

  “She is injured gravely. Jenda and I have done what we could, but only time will tell if she lives. Is the battle over?” Matteo spoke evenly despite the obvious distaste in Imre’s words.

  “Yes, the battle is over, not that you should be concerned. Neither you nor your friends were dying at the hands of the Dracul. They only came because of your worthless souls residing within these walls, but it is not your blood they shed. No, you were here, hiding away with that chit.” He flung accusations as his eyes filled with the stark blackness of rage.

  Matteo stepped forward with his hands clenched at his sides. His voice trembled with barely checked anger. “Tread carefully, Imre. You were the one who left her unprotected. You would have let her die so that you could be the hero in the war. If it were not for Jenda, Celeste would have died out in the gardens for the entire world to see. They laid her in the arms of that damned statue, for God’s sake.”

  Imre bared his fangs and hissed like a horde of cats dumped into the icy waters of the lake. The emotions in the room were weighing on Jenda. The air shimmered in front of her, reminding her of heat shimmering off the highway in mid-summer. She tried to protest, but before the words could come out, Matteo and Imre were literally at each other throats.

  Their bodies crashed together in a loud crack, and the sounds of snarling and snapping teeth filled the room. None of the other vampires seemed inclined to break up the fight. Panicked, Jenda ran into the mix. Imre had Matteo on the floor, trying to force his razor sharp teeth into Matteo’s neck. Jenda grabbed at Imre’s arm, trying to heave him up. Imre turned on her as fast as lightening. His hand struck the side of her face with the force of a tire iron. Jenda fell hard to the floor.

  The distraction was enough for Matteo to throw Imre off. Grabbing the other vampire by the shirt, he slammed his head against the hard marble several times. The empty thudding sound echoed through the room. Jenda was dizzy from the impact of Imre’s blow, but she continued to try to stop them from massacring each other.

  Screaming Matteo’s name, she tried to pry his hands from Imre. She couldn’t think of her own safety. The blood was everywhere. Jenda’s only thought was that after all the bloodshed below these two men should not be causing more. They were trying to murder each other when Celeste needed them. They all needed each other.

  Despite Jenda’s pleas, the brawl continued. They were behaving like two rabid dogs pitching themselves into a battle to the death. Blood ran freely from the open gashes on both men. Matteo raised his fist to plant a vicious blow to Imre’s face, but at the last second Imre jerked out of the way. Jenda could hear the bones crush as Matteo’s hand went sailing past Imre’s face and into the marble. Seizing the opening, Imre slammed his own fist into Matteo’s throat.

  Jenda felt the blood oozing from her lip and the hot stinging of the split skin. She knew she would get hurt if she tried to stop them, but they were getting dangerously close to killing each other. Despite the obvious possibilities, she made her final decision that she would either stop the fight or die trying. As she started to launch herself into the mix, a timid and quiet voice brought the whole room to a standstill.

  The only words the owner of the voice could muster were, “Stop, now.”

  Not one sound followed after that gentle voice spoke. Everyone turned at once. Imre and Matteo ceased fighting immediately and bowed their heads in self-disgust. Barely able
to stand, Celeste stood in the doorframe. Her voice snapped them all to attention with two barely audible words. Her voice was weak, but it was clearly commanding.

  Celeste took a single step forward, her hand outstretched towards Jenda. With quicker reflexes than she knew she possessed, Jenda lurched forward to catch Celeste just as her body gave in and she tumbled towards the hard stone floor. Jenda held Celeste’s weight with valiant strength and desperate determination.

  Everyone moved at once. It wasn’t chaos as much as an orderly panic. The sight of the Lady lying broken and bloody smashed reality into their heads fast and hard. The entire group moved as one to lift Celeste from Jenda’s arms and carry her back to the bed. When they entered the room, they saw The Chosen One—at least what was left of him. Jenda shivered at the sight that lay before her. What she had seen as beauty in the garden was now horror.

  Celeste had drained every ounce of blood the boy possessed. Now, still lying on the snowy white coverlet, his skin was sunken in and his bones stuck out as if he had suffered weeks of starvation before death. His eyes were open and peered out at nothing from deep within hollow sockets. His bloodstained clothes hung limply over an emaciated torso. Jenda thought of the mummies she had once read about in history class and the pictures she’d seen of them. Despite the appearance, Jenda couldn’t make herself think of him as a mummy—his death was moments old, not thousands of years. He was human and alive only moments before.

  As quickly and respectfully as they could, the other vampires gathered up the boy’s body and rushed it out of the room. They would have a special burial when Celeste was well again. Imre gave orders for the group to assemble all the unwounded in the castle and begin healing those who needed them. He also gave orders to drag any Dracul members or sympathizers to the dungeon. Jenda informed them of the girl that she had placed in the armoire. She left out that she was the one to drink from her, and only explained the wounded girl’s precarious condition. They promised to see to her immediately.

  When the room cleared, Jenda found herself alone with Imre, Matteo, and an unconscious Celeste. The men stood on opposite sides of the bed, glowering at each other and doing nothing of use. Jenda was fed up with their petty rivalry. Pushing Matteo out of the way, she knelt beside the bed and spoke soft words to the woman she now called her friend.

  Celeste’s eyes fluttered open once and then closed. The inhabitants of the room watched breathlessly to see if she would wake. Jenda smoothed the woman’s dark hair from her brow and continued to murmur words of encouragement to her. “Celeste, we need you to come back to us. Can you hear me, Celeste? We need you here to be our watcher. Please come back to us. Come back to me, I need you.”

  Again, Celeste’s eyes fluttered open, and she looked around dazed. Finally, she let her eyes settle on Jenda’s face and she smiled. “So it is you who takes care of me, little girl, while those two beat each other within an inch of their own lives.” Breathless and weak sounding, Celeste’s joke made Matteo and Imre glance away in shame.

  Celeste insisted on sitting up, and they helped her as much as she would allow. Propped up against a mountain of pillows with a fresh glass of blood in her hand, she told them how the Dracul had taken her by surprise.

  “They blew the doors and came rushing in. I smelt sulfur in the air and discovered too late that they also came in through the gardens. I sent Imre to fight, and Miska, my Chosen One, to hide. I was alone. They overpowered me, there were so many. They dragged me to the statue, and I remember nothing but the pain after.” Blood tears stood on the brink of her lashes, threatening to flood down her pale face.

  “I tried to save my poor Miska, but alas, his life was taken in the end. I will always regret that he wasn’t to become one of us. I would have changed him in the end, if only this did not happen and ruin it all.” Celeste’s voice cracked and her head bowed.

  The cold and powerful woman melted before their eyes. She wept with childish abandon. Imre came to her then, and Jenda mutely moved out of his way. He held Celeste to him gently as she mourned the loss of someone so dear to her. Imre was her strength, but Miska was her living heart. At last, Celeste quieted and raised her head. Patting Imre’s hand in a loving way, she sealed off her emotions and a cold resolution came into her eyes.

  She gave orders then, as if she were a general in the army. “Imre, go find those who are left, and those who must be prepared for burial. Matteo, you will assist the wounded. Gather as many people as possible and begin bringing them here. Also, check on the donors. If there are any left, have them come here. Jenda and I will begin preparing a place for them to be treated.”

  Jenda’s mind flew to the young girl she had placed in the armoire. She sincerely hoped the girl and her unborn child would be okay. She had told the others to look for her, and surely they would have come to tell her if the girl had died. She stood staring at Celeste expectantly, waiting for orders as if she were just another soldier. Celeste’s mind seemed to wander for a moment, and the silence hung in the air. Then, snapping to, she looked to Jenda with a thin smile.

  “Shall we prepare the room?” With a fresh glass of blood in her hand, Celeste reached for the phone. She made several calls, speaking rapidly in Hungarian. When she hung up, she asked Jenda to help her stand and change into a fresh gown. “I will be weak for some time. I am lucky to be alive, and I know I have you to thank for that, Jenda. I am in debt to you.”

  “Celeste, there’s something you must know.” Jenda was scared to tell Celeste, but she had no choice. As she led the injured woman into the disaster of the outer room, she confessed her fault in the attack. “The Dracul came here for Soborgne. I saw one of them take her away. She went willingly. Oh Celeste, it is entirely our fault. So many have died and it’s all because of us.”

  14

  Jenda’s guilt shocked Celeste. There was no way for her to explain that this would have happened anyway. This was the vampire apocalypse. Even the sacred halls of Vajdahunyad would suffer destruction. Nowhere was safe from the battle that would rage, and if they lost, it wouldn’t matter.

  Celeste shook her head and said, “I do not blame you or Matteo, young one. I don’t even blame your irrational little friend. We will face many horrible tragedies between now and the final battle. The Dracul and the demons are the ones to blame. Now, we have some work to do before the sun rises.”

  Jenda glanced up at the clock, surprised to see it was not yet two o’clock in the morning. It seemed like an eternity had passed since the sun went down. In reality, it was only a few hours. The sun would rise again in four hours and they still had so much to do. Once the sun was on the horizon, the vampires would be gone, and the wounded needed much attention before then.

  To her surprise, she smelled human blood. Then she heard the voices of a group of people. An army of humans came bearing cleaning supplies. They greeted Celeste respectfully and started to clean away the debris. Only a few moments later, another group came packing large coolers with the Red Cross symbol on their sides. Yet another group came with cots to set up in neat little rows once the first crew cleaned the area.

  Jenda stood and watched, amazed by the efficiency of how they all worked together. She looked at Celeste, who rewarded her with an inconspicuous wink. “I am wounded and you are much too young to have to do all the work yourself. So I called in a few favors.”

  Celeste’s ties to the human world amazed Jenda. She had once thought that vampires were supposed to be a secretive and cunning society. Then she met Celeste, who had the entire city of Budapest under her neatly manicured thumb. Perhaps it was the lure of the blood, or the old pacts holding true, but Jenda suspected it was more. She suspected that there were not many—whether human or vampire—that could resist Celeste. She was shrewd and calculating, warm and friendly, beautiful and wise. She was the very essence of womanhood.

  Jenda assisted Celeste into one of the few unbroken lounges. She fetched pillows and the coverlet from the bedchamber to make her more comfort
able. The wince of pain on Celeste’s face as she settled into the cushions worried Jenda. The woman was strong, but her wounds were still fresh. Jenda could not imagine losing her newly found friend.

  After refilling Celeste’s glass and having one of her own, Jenda decided to pitch in. She was too antsy and wound up from the night’s events. Her mind kept replaying that scene in the hall as Soborgne raised her hand and waved goodbye. She wanted to scream and cry. She wanted to find her friend and ask her why she chose darkness. She wanted to demand answers and she wanted apologies.

  She couldn’t see why Soborgne would choose to become her enemy when she was her best friend. Deep inside, she knew why. She didn’t want to admit it, but she’d seen the man that took Soborgne away. She knew it was the man from Soborgne’s dreams. She’d seen the way that Soborgne leaned against him and how he’d so gently lifted her in his arms. The way their eyes had locked for an instant before he leaped out the window told Jenda all she needed to know. Soborgne was in love.

  Wandering around the room, Jenda wasn’t of much help to anyone. She did as much as she could without getting in the way, but that wasn’t much. As everyone finished his or her tasks, Jenda looked around. Within hours, this room had been turned from a luxurious haven filled with beauty to a destruction zone filled with charred rubble—and then it had been transformed again into an organized medical facility.

  The room shone with sterile cleanliness. Two neat rows of cots stood side by side. Bags of blood hung on silver polls next to the beds, and IV tubes were ready for those who could not drink or who were human. Jenda imagined this was how the rooms of war relief centers looked long ago. The crews were paid their homage and said goodbye to Celeste once the room was ready.