by Clare Daly
‘How can someone be sorry for what they don’t understand? Allow me the grace to tell you what happened, and then you can decide if you’re sorry enough for me not to kill you.’
24
The night he was taken returned to him. The foulness of that cloak. Cocooned inside, travelling in its innards.
‘Rako gave me a blade, did you know that? Told me to hold onto it until the moment I needed it. Not big enough to fend off the creature’s attack. Just enough to slit my wrists. He took a risk giving it to me but I suppose it was small enough that I could have hidden it myself. He felt sorry for me.’
He wanted to say something else but instead let his silence speak. He waved his hand.
‘No matter now. I tried to cut through his cloak. I’d no idea if I went through it, how far I might fall but it was a risk worth taking. It was sharp, but not enough to even fray the threads of it. And so, I had to endure the journey in its belly until it spat me across the flagstones at his feet. The cloak receded back into him and he stood there, lost in that hood, his hands folded into his sleeves like some sort of holy man.’
He walked around the end of the table, his hand resting on Lincoln’s shoulder a moment. His friend had heard this tale once before and had Vladimir been there then, he would not have lived to hear the end of it. To hear it again in his presence, would be a test to them all.
‘A bear. A mountain cat. A myth. Do you remember that? Assuring me that’s all it was when you knew exactly. I looked at him in that cloak, hidden, the blade pressed in my hand and thought what can I do to him? I didn’t know the power he possessed. I didn’t even know what he was. Just a monster. Maybe if I got close I could drive that blade into his eyes, one then the other to blind him. But you see he wasn’t the only one.’
He caught the look on his brother’s face.
‘You knew that too,’ he sighed. ‘He announced my arrival to them by pulling a rope on the wall. One bell after another rang out deep underground. That’s when the drumming started. Fists on doors. I imagined hundreds of them, hungry for me. I held onto that blade, I can tell you. Two of them came. A woman, Bethezba and a wolf man called Grom. His lieutenants.’
‘A wolf man?’ Vladimir said.
‘Don’t they have them in your books?’ Sasha said.
‘He was a wolf?’
‘You should have come. I would have introduced you.’
Vladimir ignored his sarcasm.
‘What did he look like?’
‘He was neither man nor beast. He was both.’
He had the stature of a man, yet all his features were lupine. His grey hair, wild and thick. Blue eyes piercing beneath heavy brows. His nose and jaw protruding, his mouth vicious. Sharp teeth. Piercing his skin. He shook the memory away, only to realise that he had opened the door to them. It would only get worse.
‘The woman was human once, a warrior.’
Her chest was covered by a dented breastplate, her forearms shielded in thick leather corseted to her skin. Her long hair was braided tightly to her head, streaks of blood and dirt smeared across her face. Green eyes stark against them. On her back, a simple bow and quiver of arrows.
‘They took me to the Drain. A place for cleansing, they said, but they wanted to know my character. Test my spirit. Assess its worthiness. The Drain was a circular room of endless height, the floor a grate of metal panels that fit together. They took my coat. Chained my hands high. Left me, though I could hear their voices still. And then they filled it with water. Slowly at first, my feet wet as it spilled from a hole in the wall. I don’t need to tell you it was cold – it came off the mountain. Did the creature take prisoners just to drown them, I thought? The water rose, over my knees, my hips, my chest – until it was up to my chin. Then inch by inch until it covered my head. Only my hands were free of it.’
He had Vladimir’s undivided attention, his brother looking at him, spellbound. He was studying him, a vessel for scrutiny.
‘I kicked my feet out, felt the wall opposite. A shorter man would not have done it but I used it to climb, pushing my hands and feet against the wall, until I was outstretched, my body inches above the water. It didn’t rise any further after that. There was a shriek and the floor opened and the water drained away. My chains came loose and I fell into the puddle it left on closing.’
He moved to the fireplace, the chill returning to his bones at the thought.
‘They left me there for hours. It must have been dawn I guess, and so they slept, as I shivered there, sure to die of the cold. I tried climbing the wall, but as far as I got, I could never reach the top of it. I was so exhausted that I risked falling if I climbed further. And so, I sat and awaited their return. After dark, Grom returned with dry clothes – a simple tunic. I followed him out, barefoot like a pilgrim. We went deeper into the belly of the castle, to a long gallery, its walls dressed with animal skins and weaponry and a table fit for a horde of men. It was empty save for one seat at the end. I knew he watched me as I was led to him, his hood only a deterrent to my vision, not his. I thought of the blade but it was gone, washed away in the waters that cleansed me.
I was put into the seat next to him. Bethezba brought me a plate of food. It was meat of some kind or another, barely cooked, a pool of red juices on the bronze plate. But I was starving. I would have eaten anything. And it was good. She set a goblet of wine in front of me and I grabbed it with both hands and drank it. Woltacht stood. I remember him touching my hair and then a darkness, like a veil over my eyes as the world turned red and then black.’
He caught Evelyn’s eye and she held his gaze. He hadn’t factored her into the audience for his recollections, but he’d gone far enough already and besides she may understand his motives better if she knew where they came from.
‘Did you know he crucified his victims?’
Vladimir looked horrified. If he didn’t know that, he didn’t know the rest. Good.
‘I woke as they drove the first nail into my hand. Bethezba said it was a great honour to be presented in such a way. An honour!’ He laughed, its pitch manufactured, unnatural. ‘I still have the scars. They didn’t disappear when I became ‘beautiful’. Come closer and you can see them.’
He moved towards him and Vladimir pressed his back into the chair.
‘I could already hear them, the voices of the raiding party ready for their feast. When they raised me to them I could see them all, their faces glowing in the light. Some I recognised from Castle Valla and then I noticed it – the differences between them. The men on the right were skin and bone, prisoners deprived of natural light, the visible scars of torture on their bodies. On the other side were the torturers, men whose paleness seemed reserved for the whitest moon, their skin shining, eyes wide. They salivated at their prey across the room. All fell silent as Woltacht entered, falling to their knees in worship. The tortured reached out to touch his cloak as he passed, a desperate mix of fear and adulation. I was stripped of my tunic, save for a cloth draped around my groin. He beckoned them to stand and they did, pounding their feet on the floor in anticipation.’
He was deep inside it now, the horror untainted by the passage of years.
‘They cheered as he rose up before me and I could feel myself falling backwards, the wood resting on some sort of plinth. That’s when he took the first bite. His mouth came out from the darkness of his hood, and his teeth broke the skin on my neck. I could feel the blood as it trickled down my body. Then his tongue as he lapped it. He hadn’t bitten me deeply. Just enough to begin the ritual. He withdrew then and invited them forward one by one. Bethezba was first, smearing her lips with my blood, a new longing for me in her eyes. Grom’s tongue was rough. A grunt of satisfaction. And then the rest. Some licked the blood from my palms. With each one, the group behind them grew more frenzied until Woltacht beckoned all of his vampires to me. Like ants they swarmed, new teeth finding my flesh
. That’s when I knew I wouldn’t die that night. No one wound was severe enough to kill me. It was a taster. Another test.
Woltacht cried out to signal the end, as the blood drinkers’ attention turned to their slaves. They had formed a long line opposite them, a parade of living decanters providing the very best the human body had to offer. They selected their victims, found new skin around old scar tissue, took just enough blood to sustain them while keeping them alive. Some argued over the same person, neither relenting until they both just decided to feed. I passed out and so it continued, night after night. New places on my skin to taste and I realised that Grom and Bethezba were debating with their master, deciding ultimately which side of the room I would end up on. I wished for Rako’s blade so badly.’
He took a deep breath in, exhaling it slowly.
‘When they took me down, I thought I would die. I saw it, was almost at its door. They dressed me. This time not in a tunic but a heavy robe and I knew.’
He could feel Evelyn’s eyes on him but he daren’t look at her.
‘He’d decided. I would join them. He spoke to me, told me how impressed he was with my stamina, my strength of character. He said it was my destiny. Do you believe in destiny, brother? Was it destiny that brought me to Castle Valla? Or was it you? He said I would make a worthy lieutenant to stand with Grom and Bethezba and so she put me to my knees in front of him. She pulled the robe back off my shoulders and whispered in my ear. ‘Only a few of us are borne of him. You should be honoured.’ And I thought again, with honour? This was no special gift and I tried to take my mind elsewhere, to leave the chamber and its monsters. And do you know what I thought of, what came into my mind? That winter we went to stay with babushka and we fished through the ice on the lake by her house. Do you remember?’
Was it painful for his brother to think of it? He hoped so.
‘You’d cut a hole in the ice and sunk the line in, both of us waiting for the fish to bite. But when it did, we couldn’t get it out of the hole. It was too big and you were trying frantically to break more ice and when you couldn’t, you put your hand in to grab it out, to force it and your hand got stuck. And there was a loud crack and the ice broke and you went sliding in. I helped you out, pulled you back onto the solid ice, the fish clutched in your hands and you laughed so hard.’
‘I remember,’ Vladimir said. ‘I almost froze to death but that fish was worth it. Babushka scolded me for bringing you out there.’
‘What is life without the risk, you said. I thought of you in the ice. Our laughter. The taste of that fish – the finest meal we ever ate. But it wasn’t enough. Woltacht found the deep sanctuary he longed for in me and he drank, taking my skin to his ruined lips until my insides burned with death. And then it was quenched by a vileness on my lips as he forced his bloodied wrist to my mouth. I was powerless to stop him. It wound itself like tendrils down my throat and it was too late. I felt it approach as the sky does a storm, dark and grey and without mercy.’
He paused.
‘You look shocked brother. Did you think his immortal gift came by other means? It is a vile, monstrous thing and you think me the lucky one.’
‘How did you escape? What have you been doing all these years?’
‘Killing. I’m very good at it.’
‘I imagine you are.’
‘You don’t seem afraid.’
With the aid of his cane, Vladimir rose and poured himself a large glass of whiskey.
‘Am I to beg for your forgiveness,’ he said, taking a gulp, ‘cling to your feet and weep?’
‘A man can change.’
‘You think I didn’t lose anything. But I lost you. I thought you were dead. What would you have me do? Storm the castle alone and drag you out, despatching vampires as I went? I’m sorry for what happened. I am. And I know that’s not enough to make up for what you’ve been through but does it have to be a battle?’
‘It is too late for anything else,’ Sasha said. ‘I am not the person you knew and neither I think are you. I gave you time to prepare. I wanted to see what you would do with it. But I must admit I’m a little disappointed. I expected more than old superstitions and to offer, yet again, to another monster, the innocent blood of another, is unforgiveable.’
‘She’s a servant girl,’ Vladimir said draining the glass. ‘They’re ten a penny.’
The glass flew out of his hand as the full force of Sasha’s body came crashing into him. He hurtled backwards into the glass cabinet. As one hand reached for a broken shard, the other came up with a vial of liquid, smashing it into Sasha’s face. Holy water. Did he really think that would work? It had no effect, but splinters of glass cut into his eyes and he loosened his grip. Vladimir grabbed his cane. From the handle, he pulled a long silver blade. He had prepared. But Sasha was not without help and Lincoln swept in, knocking Vladimir sideways. The blade flew out of his hand and fell beneath the staircase as the deafening blast of a pistol filled the air. A bullet whizzed close to Lincoln’s ear. Everyone looked to Baker, the gun smouldering in his hand. Wade took the pistol from him.
‘Gimme that,’ he said.
He opened the chamber and emptied it into his hand. Lincoln was holding Vladimir by the neck, ready to despatch him if needed.
‘Should I shackle you, as you await your fate?’ Sasha said, the last of the shards clearing from his eyes. ‘A re-enactment perhaps?’
Someone was trying the door handle but Mr. Baker had locked it from the inside. Sasha leaned in to Vladimir.
‘Will you taste as horrifically soured as your soul suggests?’
Pounding on the door, voices demanding to be let in. He moved in, the space intimate between them as he brought his hand around the back of Vladimir’s neck. His brother was calm, waiting. He pulled him close, the movement swift and brutal and it was only when his brother felt his lips on his skin that the fear really began to dawn.
‘Help me!’ he cried out. ‘Help me!’
Sasha withdrew and rose to face him. He would enjoy this.
‘Who do you call on?’
‘I have friends that will come to my aide and they will tear you apart, vampires or not,’ he said.
Sasha took a step back, arms outstretched. He turned to Velle and Evelyn now stood by the fire, to Wade and Baker by the table, and back to his brother. There was more pounding on the door as the others tried to break the lock. Ms. Rosev was shrieking.
‘Is that them?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
‘Alas they do not come. Or choose not to hear you.’
‘Gabriel!’ Vladimir screamed louder.
‘Gabriel is not coming.’
Vladimir froze. At last his face bore the expression he had longed to see – fear and panic.
‘Who do you think granted me permission to seek my revenge in this metropolis? He does not come. You are no longer useful to him. I, on the other hand, well…’
Vladimir’s eyes darted around the room, falling on Baker who had hunched down by the wall.
‘Baker, get up off your knees,’ he said desperately. ‘We’re in this together.’
Baker slowly rose to stand, his bones cracking as he did. Outside, the sound of cartridges being loaded into a shotgun by Mr. Watson. Michael shouting at him to hurry up.
‘You have no help in this room,’ said Sasha. ‘Mr. Baker and I are well acquainted. We met through our mutual friend. He has proven a great help to me, though he did very nearly shoot me just then, playing his part as your loyal servant. I won’t hold his poor aim against him. I have promised him a nice bounty when we are done here – one he was very happy to accept. Of course, he also gets to live so that helps his cause too. Everything you own is now mine, brother. It’s over.’
He nodded to Velle. She knew what to do. He didn’t want Evelyn to see it. The act, the monster he was. On the other side of the
door, there was a click as the chamber of the shotgun snapped shut.
‘Protect her.’
‘Go,’ Velle said. ‘I can handle it.’
Vladimir offered no resistance as Wade and Lincoln took hold of him. He seemed lost in reflection, registering the turn of events, calculating the angles and if he had any left to play. He didn’t. Sasha knew it. In a blast of cool air, they left, a flight of lace as the curtains flew out the open window after them.
25
Evelyn felt Velle push her down as the shotgun blasted a hole in the door like thunder. An angry scream as Velle met it head on; the thud as she fell to the floor.
‘Jesus Christ, you shot her,’ Michael said.
He pushed aside the broken door, followed by Mr. Watson, the smoke rising from the barrel of his gun. Velle writhed on the floor, a large hole gaping in her stomach.
‘Get a doctor, Ms. Rosev,’ Michael shouted.
‘No,’ Baker said. ‘Just wait.’
There came a laugh from the floor, the blood gurgling in her throat, as Velle sat up slowly, curling her shoulders.
‘Who the hell pulled that trigger? You almost killed Evelyn here,’ she said.
They all stared at her. Slowly the hole reduced, flesh building on flesh, until all they could see through a ravaged hole in her dress was her pale skin.
Ms. Rosev grabbed her vial of holy water, blessing herself. Watson raised the gun again forgetting that he had not re-loaded.
‘Where’s the master?’ he said.
She ignored his question.
‘That shit hurts,’ she said. She stood up, Baker helping her as she rubbed her stomach. She walked towards Watson, his mouth agape as she lowered his gun. Taking his right hand, she sprinkled the buckshot into his palm.
‘Souvenir for you,’ she said clasping his hand over his prize. ‘Now I’m sorry to say that this night has come to an end.’
Baker looked uncomfortable. He knew what was coming. Mr. Watson, who stood a foot taller than Velle’s petite frame, stumbled back a few steps as she reached her arms up around his neck, lacing her fingers to pull him down. He tried to tear her arms away but couldn’t. She bit him, almost graceful in it, a lover’s kiss to his neck where it not for the fear in Watson’s eyes.
