by Peter Dawes
“Very well, then.” I indulged a steadying breath, shifting focus back to my ruse and starting into the story I had rehearsed prior to setting out for the night. It came replete with an explanation as to why I was venturing alone, lasting long enough to get us away from the duo. My posture relaxed in relief the moment we turned from the side street and joined a crowd on a busier thoroughfare.
Emil proved to be a sober-minded, amiable man. Throughout the duration of our walk, he asked questions about my travels, seeming much more interested than he was suspicious. A bond of trust wove in the background, letting down my guard enough for me to divulge talk of a journey through India, after having traipsed through the United States.
“And I have not left Bucharest in at least three decades,” he said as we approached a section of town laden with historic architecture. He tilted his head, looking down one direction, then the other, before leading us across the street. “I turned my first child back then and have been busy ever since.”
I perked an eyebrow, following close behind while glancing from Emil to the buildings in front of us. Many of them bore unique carvings, pillars, and other trappings of a time long past. Further down the road, however, more modern flavor opened up. We seemed headed directly into its epicenter. “I assumed you might be a fellow elder,” I said.
“A century and a half.” He smiled, the expression almost coy. The sight of such a human gesture surprised me. “My master tells me I coddle my children. I am trying not to be so lenient on them, but I can’t help myself. They are mine.” His gaze strayed toward me again. “You and I are adept killers by now. How any vampire survives past their neophyte years is a surprise to me.”
I felt my stomach twist. “Truly a wonder, indeed.” Nodding toward his arm, I struggled to keep the smile affixed on my face. “You are looking out for their well-being. I can respect that. As such, I am sorry for what I did to your hand.”
Emil laughed. “A good feeding and I will be fine, friend. Don’t let it trouble you.” A quick flick of his eyes to the left preceded a jog across the street running parallel to us. The tenor of his stride turned swifter and more deliberate. “Perhaps you can tell my master stories of your travels now. That is, unless you are too fatigued to enjoy our company for a few hours before sunrise.” As he looked to me again, a wicked glint surfaced in his eyes. “We will hunt tomorrow night.”
The twist formed a full knot. My smile broadened, head nodding in approval, but try as I might, I could not fashion any words of rebuttal for that. ‘When in Rome,’ I thought to myself, the observation a cancerous notion I tried hard not to entertain, in favor of wondering why our pace had increased. The answer to my question came when approached the next adjoining street.
Rather than headed straight, my compatriot turned for the front doors of a large establishment poised directly before us. Tempted as I was to sigh, I managed to suppress it when I noticed humans gathered in a throng outside it, at least better clad than the normal fare for a nightclub. Loud music bellowed from the front doors, but rather than being throbbing beats from a large sound system, I heard a band playing out what sounded like The Clash. Emil grinned as a broad-shouldered man opened the door for us, another blocking any of the humans from pushing through. “Welcome to our home,” he said, voice rising to be heard over the cacophony.
I furrowed my brow and entered.
Chapter Fifteen
The interior opened up into a spacious room, a set of stairs in the far end of the room winding up to a second floor. Glass fixtures hung from the ceiling, reflecting a sparse amount of multicolored light and making the room seem to dazzle in places. A large bar ran most of the length of a far wall, groups of tables arranged to flank a large dance floor where the crowds danced in much more controlled, much less licentious manners than I had become accustomed to witnessing. My brow remained knit, steps slowing to take in the scene while scarcely able to believe Emil called such a place home.
He laughed, drawing my gaze back toward him. “Do you not own businesses where you are from?” he asked, sidestepping to keep me in his periphery while leading us through the mass of people.
I shook my head, a smile of wonder spreading across my face. “Ingenious,” I said, the volume of my voice growing louder to match suit. “If any of us do, I am not aware of it.”
“Lazy Americans.” He punctuated the comment with a wink, turning fully to continue cutting a path toward the back. In the meantime, my focus shifted to the rest of the room again, examining the individuals in the crowd a little closer. Considering this had been presented as a haven for vampires, I strained to pick out which of the gathered throng were immortal and failed in the task. While I could sense kindred, I struggled to single any one of them out and began to believe the exercise futile.
It was not until I caught the attention of a blonde-haired female that I finally felt that familiar shiver and knew its origin. Sinking into the part, I perked an eyebrow at her as we passed, my steps not pausing even if time itself seemed to slow. Her locks had been cut short, and knee-high boots ended a few inches below a pleated skirt. Her blouse had been opened to reveal an ample amount of cleavage, crystal blue irises waiting for me when my eyes found hers once more. Immediately, I knew I had lingered in appraisal too long. The curl of her lips bore a seductive tenor and she headed in our direction before I could glance away.
Inwardly, I swore at myself.
Emil paused when she caught his attention, turning to face the shorter woman and opening his arms to envelope her in an embrace. They exchanged kisses on each cheek, and though she met his gaze when they drifted apart, it took seconds for her to glance next at me. I could not understand what she said at first, but Emil chuckled, ignoring whatever it was in favor of switching back to English. “Irina, this is Peter,” he said. “He is visiting us from America. Peter, Irina is from a sister coven in Moscow. My master has been kind enough to let her and her father stay with us for a holiday.”
Irina lifted a hand, which I promptly took hold of, lifting the back of her palm to my lips. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Irina,” I said, placing a gentlemanly kiss on her cool skin.
A brilliant smile overtook her countenance as she took back her hand. “The pleasure is all mine,” Irina said, the first evidence of her fangs peeking out as she spoke. Her voice bore just as heavy as an accent as Emil’s, compromised somewhat by what I was detecting to be a heavy amount of interest.
If only vampires wore wedding rings.
Emil resumed his walk, motioning for us to follow. Irina took up a position next to me, her body brushing against mine intermittently. I could not be certain this was on accident. “What brings you to Europe?” she asked, weaving around a pack of humans who had stepped out of the way to let us pass.
“Simple wanderlust,” I said, repeating what I had told Emil. “My brother told me to stop here in my travels, so I did.”
“You like exotic places, then?” Her smile turned mischievous. “I should tell Papa to bring you with us to Russia.”
“When I grow tired of Romania, perhaps. I had planned on venturing next to Greece.” A polite grin tugged at the corners of my mouth. “As inviting as the proposition to visit Russia is.”
“Consider the invitation open.” I jumped when she craned her neck to kiss my cheek, turning my head to look at her as she shot me a wink. “Gentlemen, I’m going back out to the dance floor,” Irina said. Her eyes offered one last, lingering stare, undressing me with a southward flick. “If you get bored and want better company, then come and find me.”
I could do little more than open my mouth before she spun on her heels and pushed through the crowd, disappearing within the horde in seconds. Emil and I ceased walking, with me staring where she had just disappeared, a rush of nervous energy racing through me. “I believe I was just propositioned,” I said.
Emil laughed. “Come, friend,” he said, nodding toward the back. “My master is this way.”
Nodding, I drew a
deep breath inward, exhaling it slowly while trying not to entertain thoughts of my lost paramour. One last push brought us mercifully toward a set of larger tables where three males and one female sat in high, cushioned chairs. Cigarettes idly wafted smoke and conversation interspersed with laughter was exchanged in short bursts with amiable silences in between. Two guards stood next to an adjacent door while people milled back and forth as though they were blind to the spectacle.
Emil came to a stop, prompting me to do the same. Lifting his good hand, he snapped fingers twice, until one of the guards – a tall, lanky male – turned his attention toward us. “Ioan!” he called out.
Ioan straightened his posture and nodded after Emil barked an order to him in Romanian. When he started for us, I tensed, until the vampire guard slowed to a stop a few feet away. He pointed at my bag. I glanced at Emil who nodded. “Ioan will take your things down to one of the guest rooms,” he said. “Do not worry, the rooms are very secure.”
Emil stared expectantly, a polite smile fixed into place even when I hesitated. Eyes returning to Ioan, I allowed my bag to slide from my shoulder and caught its strap in my palm. “Do be careful with that,” I said, evaluating the other vampire as I passed my belongings over to him. Emil chattered the translation of my words, and Ioan nodded, though I doubted the severity of the matter had been fully grasped. I sighed as he walked off, but allowed Emil to lead me to the table where the others waited.
By now they had taken notice of me, each encompassing different human ages all captured in vampire form. The first male resembled a human in his forties, with greying hair cut short and a sharp business suit hanging from a stocky frame. The second had been somewhere in his late twenties when turned, but it was the third man whose gaze captured my attention when he peered at me. His face bore no more than twenty human years, while his eyes hinted at an age far greater than that. A sharp, pointed jaw and slicked back hair made him look more severe than the curiosity I laden in his eyes. He lifted a cigarette, drawing in before holding the breath he stole for a few moments.
A puff of smoke erupted through his nostrils. “Cine-i el?” he asked, without looking away.
I struggled for what to say in response. Emil stepped forward, however, playing translator again. “Domn Grigore, this is Peter,” he said. “He is visiting from America.”
“Ah, an American.” Grigore smirked, rising to a stand. The coven master placed his cigarette down and smoothed out a casual suit jacket and motioned for us to come closer. “We haven’t entertained a brother from the United States in some time. Please, come join us.”
“As you wish.” I nodded when he pointed to one of two empty chairs remaining, offering Emil a small smile of recognition before walking to take my seat. Emil patted my back, but remained standing in place, his eyes on me while I pulled out the chair and joined the others. I glanced up in time to see Grigore lower back into his chair, a nod and dismissive brush of his hand being directed toward Emil.
Stealing a glance over my shoulder, I watched Emil depart and slowly exhaled a steadying breath. Thus far, I had managed to convince one elder of my intentions. As unnerving as the attention from Irina had been, it confirmed another had accepted me without question. The greater challenge laid in wait with Grigore, but the Fates were on my side. Turning back to face the coven master, I made myself more comfortable, a confident grin etching itself into place. “I should offer my apologies to you,” I said. “He had been hunting with his children and startled me. I believe I broke his hand in response.”
An unreadable expression birthed bellowing laughter from Grigore as my opening comment registered. I smirked back at him and waited as he settled himself and plucked his cigarette from the ash tray. The smile which followed could only be described as bemused. “You Americans startle easily,” he said, “if you break hands instead of shake them. Don’t worry too much about it. Emil will sort himself out. Just refrain from a habit of breaking bones and you shouldn’t create any enemies here.”
“I shall be certain to keep that in mind.”
“Better if you did.” Humor lingered in his expression, though the elder man struck me as one in a constant state of amusement. He used the pause in conversation to draw from his cigarette and compose himself further. “Peter,” he said, breathing the name through a plume of smoke. Nodding once, his facial expression seemed to indicate he found favor with it. “Tell us more about yourself. I hadn’t been told to expect any further guests.”
“No, you would not have been.” Adjusting the way I sat, I fixed my suit jacket and reached a hand in for my pack. The sheepish curl of my lips was disrupted only as I placed the stick of tobacco in my mouth and lit the end. “My brother told me we had allies here, but not how to get in contact with you. I would have called if possible.”
Grigore furrowed his brow, waiting until I had pocketed my lighter to talk. “Do I know your brother?”
“Yes. He said it had been a while since his last visit, so I forgive you if his name is unfamiliar.” I drew from the cigarette and paused to exhale. “Michael O’Shane, of the House of Sabrina. I am a fellow elder.”
Acknowledging the name with a slight tilt of the head, he tapped his cigarette against the edge of the tray. “The house of Sabrina?” he asked, speaking the name as though turning it around in his thoughts. Still, I failed to see either a light of recognition on his face, or a gesture of dismissal. He eventually nodded. “She is your maker, too?”
“Was. Regretfully. She met her end several months ago.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” He drew a deep breath in and held onto it, a cheerful grin punctuating the action. “Well, you’re welcome here for as long as you’d like. Entertain us for a little. I promise to let you rest after we share a drink.” He raised an eyebrow. I read a dare in his expression.
“A drink it is, then.” I mirrored his smile. “No need to be in a hurry. The night is young and you are being hospitable. I would not wish to be rude.”
“Wisdom beyond your years.” We both drew in from our cigarettes nearly simultaneously. The other vampires shifted in subliminal recognition of the conversation’s switch in tenor. Grigore’s smile broadened, as though he had choreographed the whole thing. “Though I’m assuming to know your age with that comment. Forgive me. How old are you?”
“A little over a century,” I said, remaining still as though in defiance. “My brother’s junior by only a few years.”
“Right, a fellow elder. You did just say that.” He gestured around the table. “The rest of us here are all the same. This is Nicolae –” He pointed at the younger vampire first. “– the eldest of my children and my second. Next to him is Fyodor, another coven master and close friend from Moscow.”
“Ah, Moscow.” I nodded at the older-looking gentleman with the salt and pepper hair. “I met Irina as we entered. She is a delightful woman.”
Fyodor barked out a laugh and exchanged a few words with Grigore, prompting the Romanian to shake his head and smirk. “My friend says if his daughter is interested, you might be in trouble,” he explained.
My laughed sounded a trifle more unnerved than I intended. “She is a direct girl. I shall say that much.”
“She is a vampiress, and spoiled rotten at that.” Grigore pointed at the remaining vampire at the table, a playful grin sweeping across his lips. “Unlike Tatiana, who is the most sober-minded woman I have ever had the pleasure to meet. She leads a coven on the outskirts of Budapest.”
The tight-lipped brunette glanced in my direction, but appeared to be off put by needing to acknowledge my existence. I would have assumed a language barrier, if not for the nagging suspicion that her silence had little to do with that. “I beg your forgiveness once more,” I said, still peering at her. She arched an eyebrow and I granted her a slow nod before directing my sights back to Grigore. “It would seem I picked an impertinent time to visit. I had no notion so many immortals of distinction might be present.”
“A casual mee
ting,” Grigore said. “Nothing more, I promise.” His demeanor sobered, a gesture I found unsettling. Still, I held my composure steady, tensing in preparation for whatever inquiry he seemed to be forming. “We haven’t received many Americans through here since the start of the Cold War. Not many make the effort.”
“I should say they are depriving themselves of a unique experience.”
“Is that what you were looking for in Bucharest? A unique experience?”
The directness of the inquiry set me aback. He held his gaze steady, even when he reached forward and extinguished his cigarette. I brought mine to my mouth, trying to form the proper response and exhaled while flashing a disarming smile. “I desire to see new places after losing all that had once been familiar. I believe that calls for a little exploration.”
“I suppose I can agree.” Grigore glanced at the other silent members of the jury and looked back at me when they remained impassive. “I am truly sorry to hear of your maker’s passing.”
“Thank you for your condolences. We were attacked by a seer. My mistress had been meddling and it did not go unnoticed.”
“Meddling? With dark magic?”
“A bit. And making power plays within our area. It was her dalliance with an assassin that finally became the literal death of her.”
“Funny how even the oldest of us can fall into such familiar traps.” He sighed, shaking his head. “The devil’s fruit still tempts us all.”
“And sadly, she was not invincible in the end.”
“Sad, indeed.” The sober expression changed, a smirk breaking through the severity once more. “You failed to answer my question, though. Why Bucharest?”
“Avoid the birthplace of Dracula?” I mirrored his smile. “Perish the thought.”
Grigore groaned. “Another one of those tourists?”
“I could not claim so in good conscience,” I said with a laugh. Taking one last drag of my cigarette, I extinguished it as well and sat back in my chair. Folding both hands on my lap again, it was my time to evaluate the other man with an appraising stare. He raised an eyebrow and I grinned.
