A Cautionary Tale for Young Vampires

by G. D. Falksen

  What an absurd question!

  Varanus took Korbinian and kissed his bloody lips, pressing against him as if her touch alone could reassure him that their love was unending.

  “You and I beneath a burning sky,” she whispered to him. “And still I would love you.”

  Korbinian smiled at her. Then he turned his head and looked toward Ilse.

  “But can we forgive her for what was done to our child?” he asked.

  Varanus slowly shook her head.

  “No,” she said, “we cannot. That we cannot forgive.”

  She took a step toward Ilse, but Korbinian’s hand upon her shoulder held her back.

  “No, liebchen,” he said, “let me do this.”

  Varanus nodded and kissed Korbinian again. Then Korbinian began walking slowly across the room toward the terrace and the moonlight and Ilse. And through it all, Ilse had continued in her drunken ranting, scarcely caring whether she had an audience or not.

  “But God was with me,” she said. “For God gave to me my brother’s son, a son born of you that should have been born of me. And I raised him as my own, my darling little Friedrich.…” She smiled and sighed. “And it was a double blessing, for after fifteen years he grew to be his father! His father returned to me!”

  The wine bottle slipped from Ilse’s fingers and shattered on the terrace stones, spilling crimson onto the white snow. She paid it no mind and wrapped her arms about herself as flakes of snow began to fall upon her, white upon gold and emerald.

  “He is such a willful boy,” she said, her tone regretful. “Alas, I could not break him of that. But guilt…guilt was always the way with him. It was the best discipline. Angry words only made him stubborn, but my tears.… He could never withstand my tears.”

  Korbinian stepped out onto the terrace and took Ilse by the shoulders, forcefully turning her in place.

  “What are you doing, b—” Ilse demanded.

  But before she could say “brother”, Korbinian placed his hands around her neck and began to strangle her. Ilse lashed out at him, clawing at him violently, but Korbinian tilted his head away each time her fingers came too close. Korbinian pressed her back against the stone railing and calmly began to choke the life from her.

  Presently, as Ilse struggled in his grasp, Korbinian tilted his head sideways and looked at Varanus.

  “If I strangle her,” he said, “there will be signs.”

  “We cannot have signs, can we?” Varanus asked.

  “No,” Korbinian answered. “What would you have me do?”

  “Do what you think is best,” Varanus said.

  Korbinian turned back to Ilse. He smiled at her and gently kissed her lips, which made her struggle all the more.

  “I am sorry that you must die, dear sister,” he said, “but what you did to my son is unforgivable.”

  And with that, Korbinian lifted Ilse into the air and flung her into the darkness.

  * * * *

  Late December

  After the funeral, Varanus walked through the Fuchsburger forest with Friedrich and Ekaterine, the three of them marks of red and black amid a blanket of snow. The past few days had given Friedrich time to recover a little from the shock of his aunt’s death. Indeed, for all his sorrow, he seemed far more at ease than when she had lived, like a man suddenly freed from a weight upon his shoulders. He seemed relieved at Ilse’s death—a sentiment that Varanus certainly shared—and perhaps more sorrowful at that very relief than at the death itself.

  Varanus recalled what Ilse had said about Friedrich’s susceptibility to guilt. If that was true, then surely he felt it now.

  How terrible, she thought, to feel guilt at one’s own liberation.

  But however he felt, Friedrich showed few outward signs. He had been appropriately mournful at Mass, but now that the three of them were alone among the trees, he seemed calm and steady. Not happy, but content.

  “Am I the only one of us who feels that we were just here a few days ago?” Ekaterine asked.

  “In the forest, you mean?” Friedrich replied.

  “In the forest following a funeral,” Ekaterine said. “I hope it doesn’t become a habit. I’ve rather taken a liking to the servants.”

  Varanus shook her head.

  “Ekaterine, must you be so morbid?” she asked. “Two funerals in one week is grim enough without your reminding us all about it. Apparently your novels are exerting a bad influence upon you.”

  “Well, it’s far too cold for me to go rushing about the place in my nightgown,” Ekaterine said, “fleeing from ghosts and looking for secret passageways. How else are they to inspire me until a warmer season arrives?”

  Varanus rolled her eyes at Ekaterine, but at least Friedrich laughed and sounded amused. Perhaps Ekaterine’s humor was what he needed at such a time. It was a horrible thought, but there it was.

  “I must say, I found it a little strange for her to be buried in the churchyard,” Ekaterine said.

  “What do you mean?” Varanus asked.

  Ekaterine shrugged and said, “Well, your late husband was placed in a tomb in the castle. Ilse’s grave is more than a mile away.”

  Varanus had no answer, but Friedrich cleared his throat uncomfortably.

  “I thought that she would have preferred it,” he said. “Being away…from the castle.”

  Ah, so that was it, Varanus thought. It made a great deal of sense, actually. The further away her grave, the easier to forget.

  “I am certain she would,” Varanus said quickly, patting her son’s arm. “And I think we need speak of it no further. Unless you wish to, Alistair.”

  “No, I…” Friedrich began. He stopped and sighed, though he smiled at the same time. “My name is Friedrich, Mother. Friedrich.”

  “You know that I shall never get it right, Friedrich,” Varanus said.

  “Nonsense,” Ekaterine said. “One must always have faith in the impossible.”

  “Oh, hush,” Varanus told her, laughing.

  They walked on a little further until the castle came into view through the tops of the trees. Varanus looked up at Friedrich’s tower where it rose above the keep, and a thought occurred to her.

  “Friedrich,” she said, taking great care to say the name, “will you be returning to your chambers any time soon?”

  “Uh…no…” Friedrich said. His face fell a little, and he looked embarrassed. “No, I find the Viennese Rooms to be very satisfactory at the moment.”

  “You don’t want to go back there, do you?” Ekaterine asked.

  Friedrich looked away and shook his head.

  “No, I do not,” he said. “Not for some time, at least. I tried but I am too unsettled there.” There was a pause. “That is rather cowardly of me, isn’t it?”

  “No, it certainly is not,” Varanus said firmly. “In fact, it is perfectly understandable. Your aunt drank herself into idiocy up there and then fell to her death! Of course you feel unsettled there. I would be as well and so would Ekaterine.”

  Ekaterine nodded with great enthusiasm and said, “I feel unsettled just by thinking about it.”

  “You’re not helping,” Varanus told her.

  Ekaterine threw her hands up into the air and then folded her arms.

  “I try to offer comfort, and I am rebuffed at every turn,” she said. “At least Ann Radcliffe understands me.”

  “Oh, hush,” Varanus said. Looking up at Friedrich, she said, “Friedrich, though it is perhaps uncouth to speak candidly about such things, I want to reassure you that Ilse’s death was not your fault. Not at all.”

  “Well, I suppose…” Friedrich said. “But you know, Mother, she wouldn’t have been there were it not for me.”

  “She intruded upon your private rooms without permission,” Varanus replied. “If there is any fault to be assigned, it is her own!”

  “She was drunk,” Friedrich countered. “And I left the bottle of wine out.”

  “Ilse was already drunk when she arrived,�
� Varanus said. “She had been drinking all evening. And what is more, one ought to be able to trust a woman of her age not to drink herself into incapability!” She tightened her grip on Friedrich’s arm and spoke with the utmost emphasis: “You are blameless in her death, and you have no cause to feel guilt over the incident. Remorse, surely, if it is so. But not guilt. Never guilt.”

  Friedrich was silent in reply, but he nodded slowly. From his expression, Varanus knew that her words corrected little. But that was to be expected. Her son would recover, of that she was certain, but it would take time. And it was time that Varanus did not have.

  Korbinian appeared in the snow before them, dressed in his uniform and looking so like his son. He smiled and spoke to Varanus:

  “You cannot watch over him all his life, liebchen. You have already done him a great service. But to recover from this sorrow and from the life that came before it, that he must do on his own. You cannot hold his hand every step along the way.”

  Varanus snorted a little. She bloody well could, if she had anything to say about it! But Korbinian was right. Friedrich would recover in his own time and in his own way. She could comfort and reassure him, but she could not heal his wounds. Not those that left inward scars. And besides, she could not dwell with him in Fuchsburg forever. Iosef would be very cross with her if she tried it.

  “How long will you stay?” Friedrich asked. “That is to say, there are plenty of rooms. You could move in, if you like.”

  Varanus smiled at the offer, but shook her head sadly.

  “No, I fear we are both expected back in Georgia. Lord Shashavani would be displeased if his wife and his sister suddenly decided to move into a German castle, especially after having been away from home for so long.”

  “He could come as well,” Friedrich offered. “Joseph and I got along quite well when we met in London, and it would be good for me to spend more time with my stepfather. Indeed, why not invite the whole family?”

  Ekaterine’s eyes widened a little at the suggestion.

  “No,” she said, “I doubt very much that the family would agree to such a thing. And certainly not Lord Shashavani. We enjoy our home where it is.”

  “You could always return with us to Georgia,” Varanus suggested.

  Ekaterine looked at her and shook her head slowly, mouthing the words “No he can’t!”

  “Ah, I wish that it were possible,” Friedrich said. “But I am the Baron of Fuchsburg. I cannot abandon my duties or my people, can I? Certainly not so soon after Auntie’s death. I don’t even know the state of the property or the finances. I know that she spent a great deal of money, and I have no idea where it came from. I cannot think of leaving until I have things in hand again.”

  “That is true,” Varanus agreed, regretfully. “One cannot abandon one’s duties.”

  “At least the work will help me not to think on…other things,” Friedrich said. He frowned a little.

  “Yes,” Varanus said, “work is very good for the mind. And it is good company as well.” She looked at Ekaterine and then back at Friedrich. “However, I do feel that under the circumstances, we can offer some excuses to Lord Shashavani and remain for at least a couple of months. A death in the family—”

  “Another death in the family,” Ekaterine reminded, since that had been their purpose for leaving Georgia in the first place.

  “—is something that he cannot begrudge,” Varanus finished.

  Ekaterine shrugged in reluctant acceptance.

  “I suppose that is true,” she said.

  Then, smiling, she took Varanus and Friedrich each by the hand and pulled them along toward the castle, quickening their pace through the snow.

  “Come along,” she said, “we are too somber a company. It is cold and winter, and we’ve just been to a funeral. I think it’s time for some more of that lovely mulled cider.”