Until Death

by Kari Anne Kilgore

  Maria had found no reason to suspect anyone else as young as Sanda knew anything about the strigoi. And she'd eliminated all those who'd worked together years ago to deny the family she so badly wanted with Leo.

  Maria stood and stretched, groaning out loud in the empty house. These days when Leo stayed in the city were perfect for her classwork. She was surprised and gratified at how well she was doing after so many years away from studies. Maria Mullins was not quite two-thirds of the way through her qualification for the Czech bar exam without failing a single test.

  She walked into the kitchen, tiny by American standards, but bright and white and cheery. Their massive kitchen in Los Angeles had mostly been wasted, with the double oven, six-burner cooktop, and what seemed like acres of counter space only necessary when they hosted some kind of party. Most of those gatherings were for either Leo's clients or hers, so caterers did all the cooking and cleanup.

  This dainty, sweet space, with everything only a step or two away, suited Maria far better. She plugged in the white electric kettle and set about making herself a cup of tea. She’d been delighted to slowly regain her appetite for socially acceptable food and drink over the past few months. With the exception of pălincă, she happily indulged those appetites.

  Eating the same food Leo did, admittedly with more meat than she’d wanted in the past, helped Maria avoid the terrible bouts of weakness she’d struggled with in the beginning. Once they’d settled in their new home, her supply of retired strigoi hunters depleted, Leo had nursed her almost as much as right before she’d died. She knew those days of her shaking, retching, and freezing to death from the inside as she learned her new body were the closest he’d come to madness.

  Between her reinvigorated digestion and learning the patterns of this new body, she’d maintained her strength for nearly a year now. Maria wasn’t quite sure if she felt better than she ever had, or if she only felt better than before she destroyed her original body.

  Knowing Leo was spending the next few days with Brian made her more than a little bit lonely. She loved her brother-in-law like the sibling she'd never had. She missed him more than anyone else back in the US, with the exception of Paul.

  Maria shook her head, scowling at herself for the random thoughts of ways to see Brian. No matter how she approached this fanciful meeting, there was the small matter of her dying a couple of years ago.

  Thoughts of how to see Paul were not so easy to dismiss. He'd saved her life and given her a chance to reclaim her sanity. Leo opened the door by breaking his promise to follow the burial customs of her family, certainly, a vow Maria was eternally thankful he'd ignored. Paul and Magda gave her the knowledge of how to survive past the first few hours.

  Of course when it came to anyone from her life in Romania, there was the added challenge of explaining the rash of deaths right after her funeral, then Leo's disappearance. They'd both kept a watch on Interpol for the first several months, but never found mention of either of their names. She was sure Leo still checked from time to time, especially as his involvement in the European movie and TV industry grew. Still, nothing.

  She walked back out to the living room, barely large enough for a sofa and three chairs, and curled up on the sofa.

  Maria had no intention of letting Magda waste away, alone, forgetting, forgotten. She'd never take the older woman's blood for many reasons. But she'd also never lost her ability to drain energy, even as her need for that sort of nourishment waned along with the need for blood.

  Less than an hour with Magda would give Maria the chance to repay her for so many hours of vital information. The former party boss made it clear on those early visits how distasteful she found the idea of her mind dwindling away, and certainly of being dependent upon others for changing her diapers and bathing her.

  Stubborn family members refusing to allow Magda the relief of the EU's assisted suicide laws would not stand in Maria's way.

  Her mind worked through the calculations in a matter of seconds, even though she had plenty of time before she needed to kill again. Draining Magda, bringing her the gift of compassion, would let Maria put that need off for another couple of months, well into the new year. She and Leo could live normal lives until the spring.

  Well, not exactly normal.

  She took her empty cup into the kitchen, grabbed a light jacket, and headed out for her afternoon walk. Moving always calmed her racing thoughts and anxieties. Thinking of that horrible word did just the opposite.

  Normal may be getting back to her own work, with the easy adjustment of helping writers with international contracts. Maria had never been one to sit at home while someone else had an energetic life and career. Online communications and her European legal credentials as a brand new person would solve her identity problems before they ever started.

  Normal was not forcing her husband and her to live separate lives, each secret from the other. His stays in Prague or elsewhere in Europe gave her the privacy she needed for her body's demands. Those stays also gave Leo his choice of not knowing or understanding those demands.

  But it hurt to be hidden, nonexistent to the outside world. Only people in this village knew who she was now, and that she and Leo were together.

  Maria waved to those neighbors, but she walked quickly toward the forest. They were all safe from her less and less frequent needs for anything but company, as they always had been. Maria’s deeper needs were safely met elsewhere. But chatting and company never suited her when her thoughts took this turn.

  Leo's refusal to talk about starting the family they'd been denied in her first life was moving from annoying to upsetting. She had no reason to doubt Magda's insistence that strigoi could reproduce after three years, not the seven years of legend. She also had no reason to tell Leo the time frame he'd surely found looking into the folklore for himself was so inaccurate.

  What had all of this been for if not that? The fact that her husband asked damned good questions about how they'd deal with the destinies of those children, their strigoi fate, didn't help her temper or the conversations.

  How the hell did anyone deal with uncertainty when it came to their children? They could have diseases or disorders no one suspected. They could turn out to be serial killers, the indiscriminate kind. Or they could simply be miserable, cruel people no matter how hard their parents tried to do the right thing.

  There were more ways to screw it up than there were to get it right. Even if spawning a new line of strigoi wasn't on the list of things to worry about.

  She was nowhere near ready to give up on that dream.

  Maria waited for a few cars to pass on the motorway before she finally entered the woods. The dirt path was carefully maintained, and hardly anyone was out here in the early winter. She loved the calm and quiet, with hardly any animals to fall silent as she passed or flee before her.

  She so badly wanted to talk all of this over with someone she trusted, someone besides Leo with all of his caution. Paul would be ideal for reasons growing too good to ignore.

  Maria had a suspicion he wouldn't be overly shocked at hearing from her. The borderline illegal research he'd done into Magda's life covered more than her past with the Communist Party and her mental deterioration. Before she'd become one, Paul knew as much about strigoi as Maria did.

  Paul was also the only person she trusted besides Leo. Maria's heart broke when she thought of Ana, but her childhood friend's fears ran too deep. Anyone in that village, or in all of Transylvania, knowing about her was far too risky.

  She'd trust Paul with her life, old or new, and she knew in her bones he would never betray that trust. And if any person on the face of the earth besides Leo would accept her return, likely even celebrate it, Paul would be the one.

  A slow smile curved Maria's lips. She wouldn't have to bother with cloak and dagger tactics, at least not beyond a private email account. She was studying to get herself back into business working with writers, after all. And Paul was the best writer she k
new. Successful as he was, he'd be as eager as anyone else to improve his connections and his bargaining power in the fast-growing European market.

  Thanks to his rabid curiosity and obsessive attention to details while working with Maria, Paul didn't depend on his agent to make such arrangements anymore. The whole thing would be absurdly easy. And talking with her dear friend, maybe even seeing him in person, would be well worth the risks.

  Chapter 49

  The historic center of Prague contrasted with downtown LA, and anywhere else in the United States, more than enough to still delight Leo. So many of the trends and affectations of Southern California had been a way of life here for centuries. The tall curved windows looked out not over a gridlocked highway packed with gleaming metal boxes, but over lovely stone buildings, the elaborate facades painted a dozen bright colors. Locals and tourists alike strolled along the twisting cobblestone streets, in and out of shops and cafes, chatting and enjoying each other's company.

  Leo accomplished every bit as much working here as he ever had back in the US. In fact, he was busier than he ever had been. The difference was he enjoyed every second of his working life a thousand times more.

  He glanced at his calendar, more a habit than a necessity here, and definitely today. Nothing was on his schedule other than waiting here for his brother to arrive. The entire office, converted from an old apartment building many years ago and upgraded for the demands of modern movies and TV over the past several months, was empty except for him and the security guards.

  A soft chime, part of those modern upgrades, let Leo know someone had arrived downstairs. He touched his monitor and answered in Czech, another of his recent acquisitions.

  "This is Leo."

  "Good morning, sir. A large truck has arrived from the airport, wanting to unload here. Your brother arrived with it. Shall I send them to the prop storage warehouse?"

  "Those are mostly records," Leo said. "A couple of crates should be marked personal. Those go to my apartment. The rest to the data warehouse. Please send Brian up, and two coffees. Thanks, Jan."

  Leo looked down three stories to the street level. A white Skoda cargo truck, big for old European city standards, was just pulling away from the curb. He smiled, wondering what kind of havoc a typical American tractor trailer would create trying to navigate these twisty passages where pedestrians were the rule, not the exception.

  He crossed the room, shoes tapping on the richly aged hardwood, and opened the door. Brian jumped back, lowering his hand.

  "Couldn't let me knock, could you?"

  Leo pulled his brother into a hug so hard the younger man grunted. Two years was too damned long. The guard's assistant grinned as he walked by to put the ceramic and silver coffee service on a low table.

  "Much more fun this way," Leo said. The assistant closed the door, and they both sat on a curved, wood framed sofa. The deep burgundy velvet set with two chairs and a footstool had survived the renovations at Leo's insistence. "Good flight?"

  "Yeah, great flight," Brian said. "Slept like a log this time. Seems a shame to waste that fancy business class seat when I'm snoring and drooling the whole way."

  "Worth every penny," Leo said. "I made that flight more than enough times in coach to never want to repeat the experience. Did customs hassle you with all the cargo?"

  "Nope, not a word. They said everything was arranged and in order. They didn't even check my bags. What kind of pull do you have around here, brother?"

  Leo handed a flowery cup to Brian.

  "You might want extra milk in that," he said, picking up his own. "Way stronger than back home. I don't have much pull at all. The local authorities are pretty happy with the money we bring in with our little projects, though."

  "Not that different than the US, then." Brian sipped, grimaced, and picked up the silver creamer. "Tax credits falling from the sky. Does all this include a place for you to live?"

  "Yeah, just a couple of blocks away," Leo said. He wasn't about to tell Brian about his other home. "Not far off the old town square. It can get a bit noisy at night, but it’s a good scene. The guards probably already have your bags over there. Got something for me to sign?"

  Brian picked up his gleaming black briefcase. It looked more like a mobile bank vault than the Old World leather and brass versions Leo saw on the street every day. Fingerprint ID built into the glossy surface completed the modern spy experience, every bit as well as any of his friend Paul's thrillers did.

  "Customs didn't even bat an eye at this," Brian said, pulling out a thick blue folder. "Gave me palpitations carrying the damned thing around, though. I don't see how you sign checks bigger than this every day without losing your shit."

  Leo expected two and a half million dollars or so for liquidation of all of their US assets—the house, cars, his firm, investments, as well as Maria's firm and life insurance. The check was for 3.4 million. Leo raised his eyebrows and looked at his brother.

  "What happened?"

  Brian grinned. "My real estate woman and my broker worked a little bit of magic on the commissions. If you're going to stay all the way over here, you need all the cushion you can get. That reminds me, Mom and Dad. Wish they could make it, miss you, same as always."

  "Well, be sure to thank your people for me," Leo said. He signed the proof of receipt and handed it back to Brian. "Help me pick out gifts while you're here? For Mom and Dad too, I suppose."

  Brian watched Leo for several seconds.

  "You look good, Leo," he said, smiling. "You look strong, healthy again. Corporate hair and all."

  Leo ran a hand over his head, still surprised at his own spiky hair. He'd gained quite a bit of grey scattered throughout that caught the light, but he didn't look much different than he had back in the States otherwise.

  "Yeah, I just cut it," he said. "I'm still using too much shampoo in the shower. I kinda miss having a mop like yours."

  "Listen, how long are you staying?" Brian said. "People besides our parents are starting to ask."

  Leo stared at the floor and smiled. Uncomfortable as it was, he'd gotten used to the strange, liquid shift in his mind, like water moving between layers of heavy plastic. After so many weeks and months, he rarely remembered to wish it would stop. He never expected it to anymore.

  "To tell you the truth, I don't see any reason to go back," he said. This part was the truth. "We were always either sending someone out here to manage shoots or scrambling for a translator or help with work visas. I've been able to put together a team to handle all of that. Expenses are still a fraction of what we'd pay in the California. Cost of living, too."

  "You don't get homesick?" Brian said, leaning back and kicking his loafers off. "Not even a little bit?"

  "I miss you. I'd love to meet this woman who's agreed to marry you for some reason. A few friends, but they want to visit." Leo steeled himself for the lie to his own brother. "The one I miss most isn't back in the States or anywhere else. I don't know why, but that's easier to take here than it would be back there. Maybe for the holidays. Of if you ever set the date for your wedding."

  "You'll be there for the wedding if I have to drug you and ship you under the plane," Brian said. "I'm happy to visit, especially if someone springs for that first-class transit. I hope this isn't too strange to ask, but do you ever get back to Transylvania? That was a rough time, but I liked it there."

  Leo's mind shifted again, this time hard enough to force his stomach into a slow roll. His last few weeks in Romania had been enough to last this lifetime and a few more besides.

  They'd have to be. He could never go back there again. Alone or not, the risk was too great.

  "Don't know if I'll ever be able to manage that, little brother. I love it there too. I think the good memories would make going back even worse."

  "That reminds me," Brian said, digging back into his high tech briefcase. He handed Leo several folders in different colors, each with the logo of a fertility clinic on the front. "All taken c
are of."

  Leo nodded, chewing on his lip to keep his face from reflecting his feelings. No matter how he thought about it or tried to figure things out, on his own or with Maria, her decline had started with this. Months stretching into years, full of hope and disappointment. The cycles higher and deeper every time, and harder to recover from.

  No matter what the final catalyst had been, their decision to try to have a baby had led to the end. To his decidedly odd dual lifestyle.

  And his dual mind.

  "Thank you for this, Brian. Any problems?"

  "Not really. Once they saw the power of attorney and everything in order, they were very kind and efficient." He scowled for a second. "The only weird thing was someone else had been in touch before me. At three different places."

  The shift in Leo's mind was more of a dislocation this time, threatening to join what he worked so hard to keep separate. He closed his eyes for a second until it subsided.

  "Before you?" he said.

  "Yeah," Brian said. "They couldn't tell me much, just that someone else had asked about your stored...belongings. I think they suspected it was me. Whoever it was didn't get far, of course. They were just as careful to check for authorization as they were with me, and this person didn't have it."

  "Did they say who it was?"

  Brian shook his head. "Nope. Just a person. Typical routine of protecting the one trying to do something strange instead of the one it's being done to. Any idea who the hell would be wanting to mess with that?"

  Leo leaned forward to pour more coffee, using the excuse to hide his face. He knew. There was only one person it could have been.

  "No idea," he said. "I guess we were both just well known enough to attract weirdoes. Sad, third-rate weirdoes who weren't ambitious enough to go after a writer or movie star. Pretty lazy if you ask me."