Tragic Silence

by E. C. Hibbs

  There were thousands of them filling the sky, and the force of their rage was all around me like a vice. I suddenly realised why the movements of the villagers and the priest next to me were so laboured – I wasn’t even a part of the moment, and it nearly drove me to my knees. If the willpower of one of the creatures was enough to restrain me, then this many of them felt as though my body was being ripped apart from the inside out. How the crowd – and the priest in particular – was still standing was beyond me.

  “Leave us!” the priest bellowed, taking a small step forward. As he moved, the cloud retreated back slightly, and then I noticed it was gradually shrinking. At the edges, the darkness was evaporating like steam as the vampires were forced across the border. Outside of Hungary, they wouldn’t survive.

  I saw Alexander Farkas out of the corner of my eye, his robe flowing behind him as the howling wind intensified.

  “Nem!”

  The heartfelt cry cut the anthem like a knife, and I tore my eyes away from the Lidérc to see the crowd jostling among themselves. A woman burst through, falling onto her knees before them. Some people near the front tried to reach out and pull her back, but she scrambled away.

  “Anya!” a little girl’s voice wailed above the frantic shouts. Her small form shook with terror as she reached out towards the woman, but an older girl grasped her shoulder and held her fast.

  “Nem, Éva!” she said to the child. “Stay here! Stay here with me!”

  “Anya, please come back!” the little girl cried, but her mother didn’t hear – or she didn’t listen. Her eyes were fixed on the cloud, and her face looked somehow astonished: without fear at all. With a jolt, I recognised her as she got to her feet – from the sepia photograph.

  She was a few years younger than me, but years of grief had bitten at her features and gnawed her down until she looked twice her true age. Her clothes were a far cry from the finery which had been forever captured in her family portrait. She wore a thin dress that was muddied down the front from her fall, and the once-elegant blonde hair was knotted in a mass of split ends. But as she ran, tears were streaming down her cheeks, cutting through the dusty layer of dirt on her skin. Some kind of new inner glow seemed to radiate from her eyes as she sprinted past Alexander Farkas. He noticed her, and his face contorted into absolute horror.

  “Mirriam!” he shouted. “Nem!”

  But she paid him no attention. She darted undeterred towards the shrinking demons, and I realised that directly at the front, a glowing orb of golden light was hovering. Behind it, struggling to keep still among the ever-moving mass as they all fought to escape, was a young man. His dark hair was waving, and the same old tailcoat that he’d been wearing in the Iszabella Street complex hung in tatters around his arms. A pocket watch swung from his bloodied waistcoat. One hand was extended below the light – nails long and black.

  “János!” Mirriam cried, and her voice was the loudest of them all. She reached out passionately. “It is you! My love!”

  “Mirriam, come back!” Farkas bellowed, but he didn’t dare move. I knew as well as he did that if he lost concentration, it would all be for nothing. We had no choice but to watch, and the shadowy figure from my nightmares forced his way further forward. The other Lidérc fell behind him, shrieking and cursing in voices that cracked with monstrosity. His face was as stony as I’d ever known it, black eyes fixed on Mirriam with a sense of urgency – and what I could only label as fear. Between parted lips, I could just see the glint of his teeth in the orb’s glow.

  “Anya!” Éva yelled, as Mirriam touched the monster that had once been her husband.

  I clamped my hands over my ears, but couldn’t block out the sound of her scream. It tore straight through me like a guillotine as Mirriam collapsed in front of the cloud, the final remnant of it disappearing into nothing. But a dark shape shot out from its depths, and was suddenly on top of her with a terrible metallic screech. Fangs flashed as the demon burst into flames: its whole body a giant fireball, huge wings flapping furiously behind its back. A terrified uproar shrieked from the villagers as it lifted her into the air, arms pinned behind her back – and sank its teeth into the front of her throat.

  I cried out. It was exactly the same way he had killed Lucy.

  Blood jetted outwards, showering the ground like rain. Farkas yelled in distress, and I could only look on, trying to stay on my shaking feet. I felt vomit rising up my throat and quickly swallowed it back, snapping a hand over my mouth. The Lidérc’s chest heaved as he drank – everything so much clumsier than I knew; so much closer to imperfect, human movements.

  It’s only a dream, I thought frantically. Only a dream, only a dream...

  I saw him writhing on the ground in the isolated alley... the meek bride walking towards him... a multitude of missing faces leaping for the vines on the crypt walls... the snap of a pocket watch... running with Lucy through the snow... the flash of an old camera...

  Among the chaos of the sudden panic, Alexander Farkas forced the cloud across the border. The frantic villagers ran amuck and he encroached on a stooped figure. Every man, woman and child gave the escaped demon such a wide berth that it was hardly difficult to find. It knelt on the bloodied ground, bent over the limp figure of its wife, tenderly pressing its lips to hers.

  “Why did you come?” it moaned in a voice heavy and saturated with heartbreak. “Why not some other? Why did this have to be you?”

  A single tear sparkled from its cheek. Alexander Farkas grabbed a nearby stave of wood, the silvery birch shimmering in the dim light. His face was an open wound of fury and horror as he ran towards them. The Lidérc’s head snapped up, all traces of humanity gone from its black eyes. Farkas brought down the stake, and the demon’s wings flew open – it threw itself aside before tearing through the air. It slammed into the priest and sent him tumbling onto the ground.

  “She is dead,” it growled bitterly. “And for he who tried to banish me from her, let her blood forever be on your hands!”

  The shining teeth came down, and I spun away as I heard him – it – once more.

  You knew this time would come.

  I opened my eyes, and there was just the mist, and me, and the demon. Our gazes met as the surroundings began to dissipate like vapour in the air.

  What a clever little fool you are. I underestimated you and your little harmless. But you have not outwitted me. You will come back. Seek me out. You and I have unfinished business, Farkas.

  The fog lifted around us, and we were alone in the underground crypt. Light streamed in from the hole in the ceiling, now enlarged and the edges worn from the years since I’d fallen through. Dust motes floated in its unblinking earthen eye. Blood ran down the walls.

  You know our business, the Lidérc said.

  “What are you doing?” I demanded, heart skipping. “How are you doing this? What was... why did you show me that?”

  I showed you nothing. It is you who have been trespassing into my mind all this time, and none more so than what you have just seen. I shall make you pay. Lest you fail to show, a face so dear to you will take your punishment... and I should hate for you to not remain true to your promise.

  My eyes widened as I realised what he meant. “Nem! Let her go!”

  Seek me out, the demon said; or you will fail to save her, just as you failed to save her sister.

  One final bout of song from the broken villagers accompanied my fall into nothingness.

  CHAPTER XXIII

  I sat bolt upright and almost slammed into Frank.

  “Whoa, whoa, easy!” he snapped, forcing me back.

  I was lucid enough to recognise him, and that we were at our house, and I was lying down on the bed with him perched next to me. But my heart raced, my throat was burning like nothing I’d felt in a long time, and my head felt as though it had been cleaved in two. I tried to sit up again, but Frank pinned my hands either side of my head.

  “Don’t do that!” I shouted, panic flaring. “Don
’t do that!”

  “It’s me, calm down,” he said firmly, not moving. “Calm down and I’ll let go of you.”

  I shook my head ferociously and barked at him in Hungarian before quickly switching back to English. “Don’t hold me like that!”

  He suddenly seemed to realise and shifted his hands to my shoulders. “Is that better?” he asked, and I nodded, trembling.

  Why not stick me in a straightjacket while you’re at it?

  “What am I doing here?” I blurted. “Frank, where’s Michael? What –”

  “Ssh,” he said gently. His voice and eyes were soft, but his hold on me was stronger than ever; stronger than he could surely be. “You’ve been out for about three hours. It’s just gone nine o’ clock. Michael’s fine. He’s downstairs.”

  “Out?” I repeated, my voice rasping.

  Frank grimaced. “Yeah. I knocked you out again. Sorry.”

  That explains the headache, I thought, and stared at him. “What? Why? What happened to me?”

  “You’ve started to come of age. It hit you before and you had a seizure. Don’t worry, it’s not serious. We all get them. That’s why I wanted to get you out of there, so Michael wouldn’t see. But he’s been brilliant; he drove us back here in my car. I couldn’t give you the unit on the way though, so I’ve had to give it to you intravenously.”

  As he told me that, I felt the tug of a bandage in the crook of my arm from where the needle had been inserted.

  “I thought you had to drink it,” I frowned.

  “Desperate times call for desperate measures,” he said.

  I swallowed – and immediately wished I hadn’t as pain shot through my throat. “Where the hell did you learn how to do that?”

  He grinned down at me. “Hanna.”

  I sighed, going through the breathing steps that he’d instructed me to do before I’d looked in the mirror.

  “I thought I’d had a relapse. I’ve never had anything as bad as that since I was – Emily!” I instantly went to jump up again – and realised why Frank had kept a hold on me in case I tried to move. “No, let go of me! I saw him! I saw everything! He killed Mirriam and escaped... he’s got her! Emily! He’s got her in Budapest; I need to get to her! I need to –”

  “Keep quiet!” Frank hissed. “Michael’s downstairs!”

  “I don’t care!” I shouted. “Let me up now!”

  “Bianka!” he snapped, so powerfully that I did pause, tears beginning to creep uncontrollably out of the sides of my eyes. “Calm down before I knock you out again!”

  He wasn’t joking. I went still, but it was more involuntary than anything. It felt like all of the energy had been drained out of me. Frank’s eyes held mine; weighing me down until he was sure I was subdued, before he backed away.

  “I saw him,” I said.

  Frank frowned. “What?”

  I hesitated. The look on his face told me that part wasn’t something that we all got.

  “Is that what you were staring at?”

  “Yes, he was there! And then I saw the Purge, in Hattyúpatak. It was like all of the nightmares I’ve been having; I saw them all again... but they weren’t just nightmares, Frank. They were his life, and all of the times I thought I saw Lucy; they were all of the others! All the others that he took before her!”

  Frank glanced around uneasily. “That’s not possible.”

  “Well, obviously it is,” I replied, a little more snappishly than I’d meant. “I’m sorry. I’m just so worried...”

  “Hey, it’s okay,” he muttered, pulling me into a hug. I noticed that he was careful to keep a secure hold on me the whole time. “I know your case isn’t the norm, maybe it is possible. But I’ve certainly never heard of a turner being able to do that to a juvenile and show them a flashback.”

  I swallowed. “He didn’t show it to me purposefully. I understand now, all this time that I’ve had nightmares... it wasn’t me. I wasn’t going crazy. It was everything that he had seen and done. But... didn’t you say that demons are stronger than the harmless? When it comes to mind-stuff, I mean? I didn’t mean to see into his mind; I thought only turners could make a mental link like that.”

  He paused; then nodded. “Yes, that’s the way it works between the harmless. Maybe that is the reason: because he’s a demon. Like I’ve said before, they don’t tend to get permission; it would be rare to know anything.” He buried his face in my neck. “Are you alright?”

  “Yes,” I said shakily. “But I need to get to Em –”

  Frank shushed me softly, and ran a gentle hand over my back. “It’s okay, I’m here,” he whispered. “Are you sure he has her?”

  “Yes, I’m positive.”

  He pulled back and looked at me, but before he could say anything else, there was a knock on the door and both of us jumped three feet in the air.

  “Hello?” Michael’s voice sounded from the other side. “Can I come in?”

  Frank and I glanced at each other and I gave him a small nod before peering over his shoulder. “Yes, come on in.”

  The hinges creaked and Michael appeared. He looked somewhat bedraggled from what I could only presume was the hectic drive back to the house, and his face was wracked with anxiety. He twisted his hands in front of him. I smiled, trying to mask what I knew.

  “Hey. I’m alright. Thanks for bringing us back here.”

  Michael didn’t take his eyes off me as he approached, and I felt dread, that he’d seen right through me. “What was that about Em?” he asked quietly.

  Frank gave me a harsh glance with the tiniest shake of the head, but I knew there was no point trying to uphold anything. Michael wasn’t stupid. He knew something – even if he didn’t know exactly what. I might as well just come out and admit to it. Frank could rip into me later.

  I imagined it: Emily Jane Denborough. Aged twenty. Hiyányzó. And in my heart, I knew it was true.

  “She’s been kidnapped,” I said; then doubled over as a bout of coughing racked me. My throat pulsed in agony. Frank didn’t move for a few seconds, glaring at me – and his grip tensed. There was a heavy weight on my chest as I forced myself to sit still. After what felt like an hour, Michael seemed to register what I’d said, and his eyes glazed over in horror.

  “What... what is this?” he stammered. “What do you mean?”

  His face was frozen in shock. I just looked at him, and pressed my lips together anxiously. Frank put his hand over mine. It was gentle, but I could feel the tightness in his fingers.

  “Wait, how do you know? When did you find out about this?” Michael blurted in the end. “How can you be sure?”

  I swallowed, searching desperately for an answer – but then realised that however I tried to explain it, it was going to come out terribly wrong. I looked at Frank for help, but his eyes were hard.

  “No,” he whispered, so quietly that even I barely heard him.

  I glared back. I constantly wished that if I was going to have any turner, that it was Frank. But I wished it even more in moments like this, because then the two of us would share that mental link, and I’d be able to silently explain to him what I was thinking – probably much better than if I tried with words. I thought that he must surely realise I wasn’t stupid enough to tell Michael all about the vampires, even if he did suspect something as ridiculous as that.

  But then I wondered again why Frank was staying so close to me, and keeping me within reach all of the time. He was strong enough to overpower me if I went for him, but was he scared I was going to attack Michael? That I could only see my young friend as a very human bag of blood?

  He’d explained to me that juveniles are very unstable when coming of age begins. They get what he described as a ‘power surge’, sometimes with too much energy than they could control – and it could be dangerous. Almost as dangerous as going without blood – like I did that time in Hyde Park, and nearly lost control. You hit a high that lasts for a few days, and then all of a sudden, you plummet back down,
and enter the weakened stage that can be fatal if you’re not bitten in time.

  But I still thought: haven’t I proved that I’m fine by not jumping for him as soon as he came in the room?

  “I know who’s got her,” I rasped finally, and could almost hear the grinding of Frank’s teeth.

  Michael stared at me. “What?”

  I swallowed – and winced from it. “Listen to me. Four years ago, when Lucy disappeared, I found her, and wha – who – had taken her. But... he stabbed me in the back, and then killed her. I know she was never found, but I know that Lucy is dead. I saw it happen.”

  “Bee,” Frank warned quietly.

  “I know what I’m doing,” I hissed back, but Michael cut me off.

  “Bianka, what the hell’s all this about?” he snapped. “Look, what are you talking about? You know who killed Lucy? Then why the bloody hell didn’t you tell somebody? Why didn’t you tell the police, so they could have caught him? So he couldn’t have... have taken Em?”

  “That’s enough,” Frank said sternly.

  “No, it’s not!” Michael barked. I didn’t have to look at him to imagine the expression on his face. “Why didn’t you tell somebody?”

  I shook my head; then met his eyes. And I held them. I didn’t want to appear defiant about the matter, but not let him walk all over me either. I tried to show that I had my reasons. I thought, do you think I didn’t want to? What could I have said? Officers, I found my best friend held captive by a demon? And four years later, insisted that the so-called demon had supposedly died over a hundred and thirty years before? I might as well have gone back to the psychiatric ward and checked myself in.

  “Bianka,” Michael said, and I could tell he was struggling not to shout. His eyes were huge – like a child’s – hoping desperately that it wasn’t true. “Tell me. Is Em really gone?”