I responded by opening the door even though I was not on the same floor – one of the benefits of my craft. My sorcery was better than anyone’s. The crowd murmured and I could already hear that some wished they had not participated tonight.
They ascended the front stairs cautiously, grunting like pigs.
‘Come out and fight, demons!’ called the leader of the group.
As they entered I sent magic through the air to light up the room with many candles; the flames bursting forth like a holy miracle. But, to be honest, I was tiring of all the theatrics; perhaps a sign that it was nearing my time beneath the soil.
There was a gasp from the crowd and the group broke apart slightly. Several neared the exit in case they should have to run. But the leader was drunk on beer and foolishly brave.
‘Are you afraid to fight like men?’ he called
‘Why should I when I am not one.’ I replied from the shadows and the group stood frozen to the rotting floorboards.
I descended the stairs from the top landing, accentuating every creak in the boards. As I got to the bottom – my face emerging from darkness like a shining light itself – I could sense relief and for one moment a thought passed through their heads that they might have the wrong house. In appearance, I was not a young man you see. Tall and daunting maybe, but thin with hair streaked with grey and fingers crooked.
‘You have come to the house of the strigoi. What is it that you want?’
‘Your head on a stick,’ sneered the leader, a stocky, rugged man who had experienced many a fight.
‘How barbaric,’ I said toying with them. ‘Have you not been taught any manners at all?’
They did not like the mockery and began to descend on me. The leader raised his pick but I reached to grab it with such strength, his eyes widened in shock.
With one twist I broke his arm and he screamed. Others came forward to help but stopping suddenly, aware of a low rumbling in the air like the beginnings of an avalanche. Turning to face their adversaries, they did not have time to cross themselves. The other strigoi were upon them. Several had already begun feeding: a quick bite to the neck to stun them before a slow sucking sound drawn from a thick vein of blood. There was an eerie stillness as I watched my family take their feed as if it was their last. Their eyes were closed in rapture for there was nothing like the taste of blood after many nights of abstinence. Bodies would be strengthened, their minds energised.
Several days without blood made a reborn strigoi weak and irrational. But for the elders of our kind, the impulses and cravings lessened over centuries. I did not choose a mark even though it had been weeks since I had fed. My body still had not reached the need.
There were twelve of us and eleven men. One strigoi offered me a wrist of one of the men still conscious enough to show terror in his wrinkled brown eyes, but I shook my head.
‘Are they Brodnici?’ I asked Pietro, one of the elders.
‘They don’t fight like them. They are too stupid and barbarous and I saw nothing from their past to suggest it; though in his memories I did see this one receiving a bag of silver from a gentleman.’ He turned the now shrunken and almost unrecognisable face of the leader towards me.
‘Did you know the person you saw?’
‘No, sir,’ he said. ‘He wore a hood. I could not see the face.’
These villagers may have been opportunists with newfound knowledge of our existence; fuelled by beer and gypsy legend, and tales of coffers filled with gold. But there was something not quite right about this and I would need to be more mindful of strangers among us.
I was done here and left knowing my coven would clean up after themselves, burning the husks of the men to ashes and scattering them to the winds.
We left no trace of our presence, of any bloodbath as humans might refer to it. We had to remain unfathomable – a story to pass on as legend. If the truth of us was exposed, fear would drive humans to hide or fight. We could not afford such behaviour.
Although we were superior to all other living creatures, we did not abuse the privilege. For the continuation of life, moderation was expected and avarice not tolerated. Our kind had to coexist by staying out of sight, undetected and choosing to remove only those humans who provided little value to the world. Humans have been important to our longevity for many reasons, not just for feeding. When our numbers were low, we bred with these beings to create our lesser cousins: witches. Witches since, have made the change to strigoi and thus ensuring the multiplication of our line.
It has taken the blood of humans to continue the line of witches, and the blood of witches to grow our strigoi covens. For that, I am grateful to humans, but I do not forget also, they are simply a means.
Once Gabriel had returned from wherever he was, I would need to remind him that this house was marked and dangerous, and he would need to find another love nest for his personal conquests. Not that he would listen.
Everything was temporary with Gabriel. He did not attach himself to anyone or anything for very long. He could move and leave his possessions like they were nothing and start again. For the sake of the coven, he would have to change his wandering ways.
And yet, despite his shortcomings, I had grown attached to him. He had an allure that few others shared; drawing friendship from many. Where most might abuse such influence to gain following within our circle, Gabriel chose not to exercise his appeal. This lack of personal ambition suggested to me that he would make an ideal leader in my absence.
Lilah
We said goodbye to the kindly couple after a breakfast of rye bread with caraway seeds, bacon and watered wine, which had made me light-headed and talkative. I told Gabriel all about the monastery and he seemed very interested to hear about the sisters, especially Arianne.
Gabriel walked with me half a day or more. I did not ask about his discussion the previous night. When the town was in our sights he stopped.
‘I have to go now.’
‘But don’t you want to go to the town?’
‘No, I am going further and will take another track from here.’
I looked around but could see no track.
‘Farewell, Lilah.’
As he walked away I felt a strange sense of loss and realised I had asked nothing of his background. I had been too busy talking and answering his questions. Perhaps it was his idea all along to keep me busy with my own words.
Once in the town, as soon as Arianne’s father was mentioned, residents gave me directions. It seemed everyone knew the family who lived on vast acres of land just outside the town.
The pathway to the front entrance was long and sat between rows of peach trees, their fruity scent making me thirsty. I followed the path towards the front door of a large white house surrounded by manicured gardens. A man toiled the earth between flowering bushes. It was difficult to arrive quietly given the noise of the crunching coloured stones beneath my feet. Those creeping doubts about my acceptance had magnified, and I wondered then if I could find my way back to the couple whose house I had stayed the night before.
The gardener stood up as I approached. ‘Are you lost, girl?’
‘No. I’ve come to work here.’
He was doubtful; looking me up and down then up towards the house.
‘There’s another house down the road. It’s a few miles’ walk and you can get there before dark. I hear they’re looking for workers.’
I didn’t say anything immediately but stood waiting to see if he would alert someone or wave me on.
‘My friend used to live here…Arianne.’
‘Oh,’ he said, lowering his eyes, and after a long pause, ‘How is she?’
‘Very well. She takes care of the orphans at the monastery.’
His eyebrows raised and his sombre mood lifted. I believe the news gave him some sort of joy. ‘Hmm. Well you need to take the side path, not through the front door or you’ll likely be turned away as a beggar before you even open your mouth to speak. And good luc
k to you.’
I walked to the small courtyard where he had indicated and found the entranceway into the servants’ rooms. Linens hung from a washing line and I surprised the girl emptying brown water onto the grass.
‘What are you doing here?’ she asked, suspiciously.
‘My name is Lilah. I am here to see Baron and Lady Köszegi. Here is a letter from their daughter, Arianne.’
The magic word was Arianne and the girl, several years older than me, grabbed the letter greedily. Her eyes scanned the parchment and then studied the bottom of the letter. I believe she was illiterate but appeared to recognise the signature. She took the letter away and was gone a long time.
I sat against the wall. The bricks were warmed from the sun and I pressed my back against them. It wasn’t long before I dozed.
Then I was shaken roughly by the same girl and taken past the galley. The cook ceased chopping the limbs from a hog with a cleaver, her face red with exertion and droplets of sweat dripping from her forehead. She looked at me with her mouth pursed and I felt a hostile air in this house. The servant led me down long basement stairs. Behind a small door was a small room with two cots. She indicated me to one of them.
‘This one’s mine.’ She sounded annoyed. She no longer had any privacy and for a moment I felt some pity towards her.
‘Lady Köszegi will see you now.’ She instructed me to follow her. We reentered the ground floor through another flight of narrow stairs and followed thickly woven rugs through long and narrow hallways. I could hear music playing somewhere in the house, the sound increasing as we progressed. Passing a sitting room, I saw a girl close to my own age playing a flute. I had heard this instrument before, from a man in Güs whose window I passed on the way to the market. I would often slow my pace so I could catch the melodic sounds that mimicked the tunes of the lark.
I wished for several minutes to sit and listen. The girl had the same fair hair as Arianne and large round eyes. She stopped when she saw us. We continued walking until we reached the foyer crossing over to enter another larger sitting room at the base of a winding staircase. Large paintings of the apostles, bordered by gilded filigreed frames filled up most of the spaces on the walls.
‘What is your name?’ I asked the girl. She knocked on the door.
‘Danika,’ she said solemnly, not caring whether I heard her or not. ‘Remember to curtsy.’
‘Why? Are they royalty?’
‘No. But they think they are.’ Someone called out ‘enter’ and then Danika opened the door.
The room was spacious and overly warm. We brought with us a gust of air; billowing the curtains at a front window enclave. There were several people here all of some authority and my mouth felt suddenly dry, a lump forming in my throat that threatened to end further speech.
Lady Köszegi sat in a high backed chair upholstered in floral tapestry. Two male persons were beside her. One was quite tall and darkly handsome with narrow eyes and a fixed grin ready for my entry. The other was shorter, with fair hair and a pale complexion with dark patches beneath his eyes. He did not seem interested in who was entering the room but dreamily looking at something through the sunlit windows; imagining somewhere else.
Danika curtsied and quickly left. I felt exposed when she had gone. I barely knew her but wished she had remained beside me.
‘Come here,’ ordered the lady.
I walked forward, lowering my head and curtsying as I had seen Danika do.
She looked me up and down and I found it hard to meet her glaring appraisal.
‘Stand up straight,’ she commanded. ‘Don’t walk around like a meek lamb. That won’t do in my household.’
I surmised immediately that this woman could prove quite difficult to work for, that her expectations would be high, but in that moment also, I recognised her fragility and fearfulness. Whether I had sensed this with my skill or by ordinary observations, I could not say.
She held the letter from Arianne in her hands. ‘How is my daughter who tells me nothing?’
Words tumbled out awkwardly as they often did when I was nervous. ‘She is very well. She ably cares for the poor and is looked upon with respect by many. As you are probably aware, she is being groomed to become second in charge.’
‘No. I am unaware of anything that she does any more. This is the first letter I have had from her in years.’ She spoke without looking at me directly and I detected a hint of regret at their separation.
‘Oh,’ I said, not knowing whether to express my pity for such a fact, and stunned that she’d had no contact with her daughter.
‘Arianne always liked to be independent,’ said the taller man still smiling.
‘This is my youngest son, Andrew, and my other son, Emil.’
I curtsied again feeling quite silly. The elder fair-haired Emil only briefly nodded to me before returning his gaze to the window.
‘Well, if I might say so,’ said Andrew, ‘it is a pleasure to have you here as a housemaid. Arianne says glowing things about you. Mother can be a bit of a bully sometimes. We cannot pay you much but I’m sure you will find the food and bed adequate enough and you will have half a day off for your leisure.’ He smiled widely then, and I shivered for there was no warmth in it. ‘You can go now.’
He rang a small bell and Danika returned to collect me. As I left the room I turned to notice something else that greatly disturbed me. The hard face of Lady Köszegi had softened and she had what seemed to be a pleading expression towards her younger son. The smile on Andrew’s face had gone and there was nothing but contempt as he looked down upon his mother.
We returned along the hallways and I heard no more music. Danika showed me through the rooms. I was to dust and clean daily, and make the beds. She showed me the laundry where I would wash the linen. I was also required to peel the vegetables and skin the rabbits. Only the last task did not appeal but everything else I could live with and felt very thankful to have another roof over my head. I was also relieved to learn that Baron Köszegi was away on important business and would not be back for weeks.
On opening one of the bedrooms we found the little musician sitting on her bed. Danika apologised for the intrusion.
‘That’s quite alright,’ she said solemnly. She stepped towards me and held out her hand. ‘I’m Evaline but most call me Evie.’
I touched her hand and it felt like a lightning bolt had split me in two. Several images rushed into my head. I saw Evie pushed against a wall and the room seemed to spin and alter in shape and colour, light to dark, then night to day, then a flash of something so dark I could not put words to it. Evie was suffocating, a hand over her mouth, but the image was wrong somehow. It was only a flash and too great for me to deal with or make sense of at the time.
When I let go of her hand I felt a release and the room seemed back to normal. My hands were shaking and Danika had noticed my dazed state. She nudged me to address the girl.
‘I’m Lilah. It is a pleasure to meet you.’ The child, who was perhaps eleven, lowered her eyes.
‘You have another sister too.’
Danika pressed her shoulder in my back.
‘I did,’ she said. ‘But she died. She would have been eighteen now. She had the fevers…’ Her voice trailed away.
‘I’m so sorry.’
‘I never met my oldest sister – Arianne.’
‘Well you look just like her. Just as beautiful.’
‘Oh,’ she said wistfully. ‘I have not heard that. We do not have any drawings of her.’ She looked away then and we took that to be a dismissal. We curtsied to leave.
‘Will you come and visit me sometime and tell me about my sister.’
‘Yes,’ I said. Though I wasn’t sure if that was permitted and by the look on Danika’s face it did not look likely.
As we left to head down to the galley I had to ask: ‘Why are there no portraits of Arianne?’ I had already seen sketches of the family at various ages all along the hallways on the second fl
oor.
‘Baron Köszegi had them all burnt.’
‘Why?’
Danika stopped me suddenly. She looked around cautiously before hissing at me under her breath. ‘The first thing you must learn if you are going to work in this household is that you ask no questions, and you see nothing. Do you understand me?’
I nodded unsure of what exactly I was agreeing to. ‘If you don’t you will be out on your heels with nothing but your life, and that’s only if the Lady and Baron are feeling generous.’
I continued following Danika. The walls seemed to ooze sadness here, something that I hadn’t noticed until now and after the strange occurrence with Evie I knew that Arianne was most fortunate to be where she was.
I believed that apart from helping me find a roof over my head and food in my stomach, Arianne had sent me here for another purpose. It would be several weeks before I discovered what that was.
Emil
After she left the room that day I could not stop thinking about her. She was only young, yet seemed a lot older than her years. For one thing, she was tall, the same height as me; though not as tall as my younger brother.
Andrew I hated beyond words. He was always father’s favourite. Like my father, he despised my mother and most women. He thought them useless. But he had put me on such a list too since I had been very sick as a child and allergic to his horses. Andrew on the other hand took to horse skills with vigour. He would often accompany father on business trips. What they were up to was privy only to them but I knew that they had paid a great deal of money to members of the monarchy in return for certain favours. My father was always doing deals. He had given monetary support, helping people reach a certain station in life but only if it in some way benefitted him.
Until Lilah entered the room that day I had almost lost purpose in my life. I could never rely on mother. She had been a feeble thing, unobservant, bossy when she needed to be but only to the serving staff. Although physically there, she had been absent in matters of her children’s welfare and of matters of the spiritual. She spoke the words of prayer but she did not value their meaning. If I had been my mother I would have sent the girl away. She would have been better off anywhere but our abode. With her pleasant face and sweet manner she would have had no problem finding work.
Lilah Page 5
