Kiss of the Butterfly

by James Lyon

  After a moment’s pause, she walked towards the window and turned around, silhouetted by dawn’s brightening glow. ‘What do you want?’ she demanded.

  Steven pulled himself carefully to his feet in anticipation of her next violent mood swing and clutched the cross on his chest. His arms were scratched and bleeding and he felt blood trickle slowly from his nose where she had hit him onto his lips.

  ‘Do you want to impale me like you did Stojadinovic?’ she asked quietly. ‘Do you want to cut off my head and burn it?’

  He stared at her, still overpowered by her beauty, yet terrified of her power and the evil residing inside her.

  ‘Please kill me,’ she pleaded plaintively.

  He stood there, licking the blood from his lips.

  ‘Go now and find a stake,’ she begged Steven fervently. ‘My darling husband drove a stake through my heart centuries ago, before I ever became a vampire, and the pain still lingers. Here…’ She ripped furiously at her silk dress, tearing it until it was no more than a pile of rags at her feet. She walked towards him, bare except for her stockings, reached out and placed his hand on the cold flesh over her heart. ‘Right here…is where Marko pierced me. For centuries I have lived with the pain of a lifeless heart that cannot die. If he were to impale me now I would thank him for the release.’

  Then her mood snapped again: ‘I damn his soul for all eternity for what he did to me,’ she shrieked. ‘May he burn in the darkest fires of hell: I will be there waiting for him. When you see Marko, tell him that I will drag him down into the same hell he placed me in. All he has that is precious, I will destroy. I wish to see him suffer as he made me suffer. Tell him I shall await him in Srebrenica, and there we shall see the face of the Dragon. Together.’

  She stood on tiptoes, wrapped her arms around Steven’s neck and kissed him on the lips, tasting his fresh blood, drinking in his essence. The passion of the kiss chilled the marrow of his bones. He felt hot breath from the back of her throat and tasted his own fresh blood on her tongue. Her ardor broke his will and he crushed her to him, returning her kiss with equal fury, passion and lust for nearly a full minute before she broke away, gasping. She looked up at him, slowly licked his blood from her lips, and shuddered.

  ‘I will have you,’ she said softly. ‘Not now, but in another time and place where none of this matters, where there will be time for us.’

  She turned and walked towards the open window, the first rays of the rising sun splintering around her bare figure like shards of broken glass. She spun around suddenly and looked him in the eyes once again. Steven strained to see her against the sun’s direct rays.

  ‘One more thing, Nenad American…tell Marko I love him.’

  Steven squinted as her body suddenly disappeared, and an orange and black butterfly with white spots flew out the open window.

  * * *

  Steven staggered to the elevator, confusion marring his thoughts. The power of Natalija’s kiss and body, combined with her stunning physical beauty had left him shaken and uncertain.

  What had just happened? Why had he responded the way he did? How could he have felt, much less shown compassion for the vampire that tried to kill Vesna? Why was he attracted to her, against all reason? Had she mesmerized him again? Or had he kissed her of his own free will?

  Stumbling from the elevator, he collapsed against a large tree in the middle of an empty sidewalk café and began to sob. He felt that by showing compassion for Natalija and by kissing her he had betrayed all his ideals, as well as the people closest to him…Vesna, Tamara, Katarina, Slatina, Mrs. Lazarevic…that he had fallen from grace…that God himself had turned his back on him in disgust. He was a disappointment to himself and those around him. He wanted to pray, but didn’t feel worthy to approach God.

  Yet the taste of her blood lingered tantalizingly on his tongue, etching itself deeper into his senses with each passing moment. As he rolled his tongue in his mouth, her taste left him wanting more: more of her beauty, more of her scent, more of her essence. His loins and chest screamed for her. Strangely, he sensed her nearby, felt that she was in close proximity. He looked at the trees, but the foliage was too thick to see if the branches concealed an orange and black butterfly with white spots. And then she was gone. Just like that, as suddenly as the first flash of morning sun. He felt it.

  Suddenly Steven understood the obsession that had consumed and driven Slatina the last 260 years. Natalija had gotten into the professor’s blood, just as she had now gotten into his. At some point Slatina had tasted her essence, and had let her become a part of him. Would the feeling ever cease? And then it dawned on him that the only way to cleanse himself of it would be to take her or kill her.

  * * *

  Interlude XII: Belgrade: 18 May 1992

  ‘If the Venetian is active, then we must reconstitute our quorum,’ said Lazar, the eldest. ‘Together we shall be stronger. We must find the Vlach.’

  ‘But the Muslims hold Srebrenica,’ said the doctor, Rastko.

  ‘How soon can we take it?’ Lazar looked at the general, Branko and Lynx.

  ‘My army will seize it by the end of next month,’ boasted Branko, brushing cigar ash from his crisply pressed uniform.

  ‘The Muslims are encircled, without food or electricity,’ said Lynx. ‘They have few weapons and are nearly defenseless.’

  ‘I’ve longed for Srebrenica. Its call is powerful,’ said Mihailo. ‘We should’ve known he’d be there.’

  ‘Do we really wish to wake the Vlach?’ asked Ivan. ‘You know how insatiable he is, without bounds or reason. That’s what drew the Venetian’s attention and got us captured in the first place. And he’s probably hungry…his appetites could again attract attention to us.’

  ‘There’s a war underway,’ scoffed Lazar. ‘No one will notice if a few thousand people go missing. When you wake the Vlach, make certain you have a good meal waiting.’

  ‘I know just the thing,’ said Branko. ‘But what if he wants more? What if he becomes too ambitious and tries to take over from us?’

  ‘He won’t do that,’ said Lazar with assurance. ‘Ruling requires work, and he has long ago become too fond of worldly pleasures. That’s what made him one of us. I know: I watched him become a vampire. I was there.’

  ‘Then Srebrenica it is,’ said Branko. ‘I’ll leave tomorrow for the front in Bosnia. I have to begin preparations for the capture of Srebrenica.’

  ‘Likewise,’ added Lynx.

  ‘Much as I would like to stay and find the girl,’ Natalija said, ‘I too must leave for Croatia.’

  ‘I’m also off to Croatia,’ said the youngest, Ivan. ‘You need someone to fight against.’

  Branko and Lynx smiled.

  ‘And we’re leaving tomorrow for Sarajevo,’ said Tarik, rubbing his shaven head.

  ‘But I don’t want to be the one to wake him,’ Branko said. ‘What about you, Lynx?’

  Lynx shrugged indifferently: ‘Sure, why not? My men need a change of pace from playing with civilians. And who knows…some of them might even survive and have a story to tell their grandchildren. It’s not every day you get to wake up Vlad Dracula.’

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  THE WALLS OF RAM

  Ram: 19 May 1992

  Atop a high bluff at the Danube’s edge, Steven, Vesna and Bear sat huddled in the ruins of the castle of Ram, its crumbling towers and walls long ago overrun by the tall grass that besieged it. Across the river they could see Dracula’s Wallachia, mysterious and gloomy, nearly obscured by low-lying clouds and rain.

  Early that morning Steven had found Bear unconscious on a park bench in front of Debauchery.

  ‘Everything hurts,’ Bear had said, squinting at the morning sun. ‘Sorry about last night…leaving you with Natalija...they put something in my drink. What happened?’

  ‘Nothing. We danced,’ Steven said, knowing he would take the events of that evening with him to the grave.

  At the Glogovac home they met Vesna,
who had arrived by train with Mrs. Lazarevic.

  The trip from Belgrade to Ram had been uneventful. Vesna’s mother had gone to the basement and returned with long strands of braided garlic, the kind peasants hang to dry on the outside of their homes in the late summer and autumn. She draped a strand around each of them, which they removed and put in the car trunk as soon as they were out of sight of Vesna’s house.

  Vesna lay on the back seat, while Steven and Bear, attired in Military Police uniforms, sat in front as they started off on what all knew would be their last road trip in Bear’s red Yugo.

  ‘It seems strange without Tamara,’ Vesna commented as she fidgeted nervously with the scarf that covered the puncture marks on her neck.

  Bear coughed and stared stoically ahead, saying nothing, while Steven nodded and muttered ‘yeah.’

  Vesna sat silent, sullen and angry. ‘Because of you I have to leave my home and parents and abandon my studies,’ she lashed out at Steven. ‘I didn’t want any of this. I only want to live normally, and now I’ll never again be able to do that. Why’d you take us under Petrovaradin?’

  Steven stayed silent, unable to answer. He wrestled with a conscience besieged by feelings of overwhelming guilt: for exposing his friends to the dangers under Petrovaradin; for starting a half-hearted relationship with Vesna when his heart clearly sought unobtainable Katarina; at betraying Katarina, with whom he wasn’t even certain he had a relationship. But most of all, guilt for what he had done last night with Natalija, permitting himself to be lured into the situation, to drop his guard and allow animal instincts to overpower him. He felt horrible and ashamed about the encounter and could not look either Bear or Vesna in the eyes. He distracted himself by wiping condensation off the inside of the windshield so Bear could see.

  Bear stared ahead at the road, pretending he wasn’t there, lost in his own thoughts about Tamara and their lost future.

  The trip passed in silence as they drove eastward through the countryside, until a small yellow sign with faded lettering alerted them to the turnoff for Kisiljevo. As they veered onto a crumbling asphalt road, they saw a decrepit blue police Zastava appear from the rainy mist, one cop asleep inside, the other sitting on the hood in a rain poncho, puffing on a cigarette. The smoker flagged them down.

  ‘Good day,’ he said arrogantly. And then he saw their uniforms and became friendlier. ‘Where are you headed?’

  ‘There are some draft dodgers in Ram,’ Bear responded, fidgeting with the gear shift.

  ‘And the girl?’

  ‘A hitchhiker.’

  Vesna smiled formally at the policeman.

  ‘A hitchhiker?’ the policeman winked lewdly. ‘Well, be careful. Part of the road isn’t paved. And hurry back. Strange things happen in these parts after dark.’

  The rain had swept Kisiljevo’s only street clean of humans.

  ‘The first modern vampire came from here,’ Steven said.

  Vesna shuddered.

  Through the foggy car windows they saw engraved marble plaques set in the façades of houses.

  ‘Look at that,’ Bear pointed at one house.

  ‘Yeah, over here too,’ Vesna added.

  ‘Tombstones. I read about these,’ Steven said. ‘They bury people in the house to protect them from evil, you know…under the threshold, under the hearth, in the yard in front of the gate, that sort of thing. It’s an old superstition…if evil approaches, then the spirits of the dead family members will rise and protect the home.’

  ‘That’s sick, burying a dead person in your house,’ said Vesna. ‘It’s primitive superstition.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Bear nodded. ‘But maybe that’s what Mrs. Lazarevic was talking about when she said the supernatural would help us.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Steven agreed, although he saw no connection.

  The next village was as ghostly as Kisiljevo, and then they entered Ram to find more of the same: a lifeless, rain-swept street, tombstones in the walls. Other than the policeman, they hadn’t seen a soul since leaving the main road.

  ‘This is spooky,’ Vesna said. ‘There’s no one here.’

  ‘Of course not,’ Steven said. ‘They’re all inside.’

  They drove to the top of the bluff, abandoned the Yugo deep in the high grass at the base of the castle ruins, draped themselves in garlic and took shelter from the rain inside a crumbling tower.

  ‘We’ve got about five hours,’ Steven said, looking at his watch. ‘Where are the sandwiches?’

  As darkness fell they ate and spoke in hushed tones about events of the last three days.

  Steven related how Slatina had talked him into coming to Serbia and how his research kept leading back to vampires. ‘But I didn’t really believe they were real until Stojadinovic attacked us,’ he said. ‘If I’d known, I never would’ve gotten you involved in this. I swear. I mean, who thought vampires existed?’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Bear in the monotone that had now become de rigueur since Tamara’s death.

  ‘But now that we know they’re real, we can’t really ignore them and pretend they don’t exist,’ Steven continued. ‘I mean, if you really think about it, the whole premise of sin is that you know the truth and choose to act against it. If we turn our backs and refuse to fight against them, then wouldn’t we be committing a great sin?’

  ‘Yeah, that’s the whole Holocaust thing,’ Bear agreed. ‘The Nazis were doing bad things…killing Jews…genocide…all that…and the West knew about it but didn’t do anything to stop it. In fact, the people who were around it every day knew about it and didn’t try to do anything to stop it. People like us. No one wanted to be put out or have their life disrupted. A little bit of evil goes a long way, and complacency goes even farther.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s our situation now,’ Steven agreed. ‘Because we know, we have to do something. If we don’t, we’ll have blood on our hands.’

  ‘What do you think, Vesna?’ Bear asked.

  ‘It doesn’t matter what I think. I have no choice. Tamara didn’t have a choice either,’ she said, fingering the strand of garlic draped around her shoulders.

  ‘Vesna, I’m sorry, I really…’ Steven began to apologize.

  ‘Tamara has nothing to do with this,’ Bear exploded angrily. ‘Leave her out of it. Stefan didn’t know it would be dangerous. I didn’t know. You didn’t know. I mean, come on, who believes in vampires anymore? If you hadn’t been attacked would you believe? Stop acting spoiled. We’ve got to move on. If we stay behind we die. That’s the simple truth, so enough self-pity. It’s time to grow up and stop pouting.’

  They sat in awkward silence, listening to the rain patter on the grass and stones. Through a gaping hole in the crumbling tower they watched the boats and ferries that lined the landing at the end of the village’s only street. Lights from a café twinkled through the rain, the only sign of life in the village. The downpour lightened to a drizzle and a light fog arose from the water to cover the river’s surface.

  Steven broke the silence. ‘Bear, do you believe in God?’

  ‘Yeah, I do,’ Bear answered.

  ‘I mean, everyone always asks if God exists. Well, do you think He knows we exist?’

  ‘Stefan, don’t get philosophical on me.’

  ‘Bear, since I’ve come to Serbia I’ve spent a lot of time trying to find a reason to stop doubting, trying to believe God listens when I pray or that He even knows I’m alive. I’ve been looking for answers, without really knowing the questions.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter whether you think God exists,’ Bear answered gruffly. ‘Because He does. And do you know how I know? Because we’ve seen the face of the Devil, and if the Devil exists, then it means God exists. It’s the whole Yin and Yang concept. It would be stupid for there to be Evil if there was no Good. Without Evil, the whole idea of Good loses all meaning.’

  ‘You sound like a Gnostic or a Bogomil,’ Steven said.

  ‘I’m serious. We just saw the face of the Devil, and it saw us,’ Bear
said softly. ‘If the Devil knows we’re alive, then God must too.’

  ‘Wait a second,’ Steven interjected. ‘If we can see the face of the Devil, why can’t we see the face of God? If we’re fighting against the Devil, then logically, we’re doing God’s work. But how can God let imperfect beings do His work when we’re not worthy to see His face? The Devil lets those who serve him see his face and he takes those who are like him, corrupted and evil. But people who do God’s work almost never get to see His face, and few can ever hope to become like Him and attain perfection.’

  ‘You’ve got it all wrong,’ Bear said. ‘Most people who do the Devil’s work aren’t evil, but are simply ignorant or too complacent to learn the truth, or they’re too lazy and comfortable in their everyday lives to rock the boat. And those people almost never see the Devil’s face, because the Devil knows that if he revealed himself it would scare them out of their complacency and turn them to God. The Devil’s like a vampire…he’s most effective when no one thinks he exists and only shows his face to those who resist him.’

  ‘So what you’re saying is that both God and the Devil use normal, imperfect human beings to achieve their aims?’ Steven asked. ‘But how can we…’

  ‘Stefan, three days ago I was just another draft-dodging university student,’ Bear interrupted impatiently. ‘I had my parents, my friends, an apartment, Tamara, I thought I’d be a student forever, my parents always gave me what I needed…now everything’s changed. It’s as if my life as I know it is coming to an end. Everything that mattered is now gone or unimportant. I’m fleeing my homeland for I don’t know what. I don’t have any money…once I leave I’ll be officially branded a traitor and I’ll never be able to return. I don’t know what I’ll do, where I’m going, or what’s going to happen.’