“So curious,” he said. “It is like stone, but pliant. And so cold! I don’t know why I didn’t realize what you were sooner.”
“We are very good at hiding our true nature from your kind,” I said.
“How many of you are there?”
“I do not know. Not many. Not compared to mortal men.”
“Fascinating!” he murmured, examining my nails. He looked up, eyes bright. “Your teeth! May I see your teeth?”
I laughed. “Enough, Justus!”
“What? But you promised--!”
I pulled him into the bed with me, allowing him to feel a fraction of my strength.
“We have unfinished business, you and I!” I declared.
9
When he finally rose, late in the morning, I was sitting in the chair beside the bed, watching him.
“Does your kind not sleep?” he asked.
“We do not need to,” I answered. “Not like mortal men require it. I sometimes lie down to rest during the day. When I do, I slip into a death-like state.”
“Why the day? Why not at night?”
“The sunlight hurts our eyes. Our senses are greatly amplified when we are transformed into immortals.” He opened his mouth to speak again and I put up a hand. “Enough! Enough questions for now, Justus. We must maintain appearances. We should go about our business today as if I were a mortal man. I will accompany you, but we must keep up the pretense that I am an ordinary man.”
He nodded, threw aside the covers and rose. He turned his back to me, used his toe to retrieve the chamberpot from beneath the bed and urinated. “Do you piss?” he asked, looking at me over his shoulder as his urine pattered into the pot.
I chuckled. “No.”
“But you drink. I saw you drink ale last night, and wine. Where does it go?”
“I said no more questions. There will be time enough for that tonight, when we go out to hunt the degenerate ones.”
“So they are here?” he asked, shaking off.
“I believe so. I strongly suspect they are.”
“Can they harm you? How strong are they? Are they stronger or weaker than the… uh, purebloods. What do you call yourselves? How do you distinguish between your lineage and the degenerate ones?”
I laughed, rising from my chair. “We call ourselves many things, Justus. Vampires. Strigoi. Blood drinkers. The children of the night. We have only one name for the degenerate ones.” I took up his hose from the previous night and threw them to him. “We call them ghouls,” I said. “Tonight, after we have appeased the locals, we will steal from this room and go in search of these ghouls. We must find them all and exterminate them, for they spread their cursed blood indiscriminately. I have witnessed whole villages transformed into ravening fiends.”
Justus sat and began to pull on his hose. “You did not answer my question fully, Gyozo. How powerful are they? Can you alone destroy them? What if there is a legion of them?”
I smiled menacingly. “They are strong, but I am much, much stronger. In fact, I am one of the strongest of my kind. No harm shall befall you in my company. That I promise you.”
10
We spent the rest of the day “appeasing the locals”.
After a quick meal of rye bread and mutton left over from the day before, we departed the inn and made our way to the home of Getvar’s mayor, a fellow named Njegoslav Ivosevic. The food and drink sloshed queasily in my guts as we walked. I’d partaken only what was required to pass for a mortal man in the company of the living, but the Strix was not happy about it, and I had to bear down to keep the mash from spewing from every orifice.
It was an overcast morning, the sky low and gray, but I had donned my tinted spectacles anyway, and kept a handkerchief handy should my eyes begin to weep in the glare.
I’m not sure which would be more alarming to the locals-- if I soiled myself explosively, or began to weep tacky black tears—but I didn’t want to put it to the test.
The houses of the village were mostly timber-framed constructions with jettied upper floors. The streets were paved with flat creek stone. Altogether, it was a pleasant-looking little village, and typical of the period, although, like most other Middle Age settlements, there was raw sewage running in the gutters and pigs and other livestock milling about the avenues, things you would not see in a modern community. It might have looked like any other medieval town but for the tangible fear in the eyes of the inhabitants. Laborers and merchants scurried about their business, keeping a wary eye cast over their shoulders. They did not stop to exchange pleasantries or dawdle to trade the latest gossip, as they would normally have done, and there was a conspicuous absence of women and children in the light mid-morning traffic.
“It is a village under siege,” Justus said to me, and I nodded in agreement.
Ivosevic was thrilled to meet us, and asked what he could do to aid us in our investigation. He was a fat, bearded, jovial man with a large, drink-purpled nose. Justus described what he planned to do to rid the town of its vampire infestation, and asked that the mayor assemble a group of stouthearted men to assist us in these endeavors.
Ivosevic sent several servants hustling away immediately.
By noon, our group of fearless vampire hunters had assembled at one of the local cemeteries. From the parish church was Father Mahmud Abramovic, an ancient creature who took an instant dislike to Justus, though he was very courteous to me. Lord Hanon Gundic, a wealthy landowner, arrived with several of his villeins—big, strong, sunburned laborers. Ivosevic joined us, accompanied by half a dozen of the village’s councilmen. They brought the horse Justus had requested, an unmutilated steed named Labas, and the mayor’s bastard, Pajo, a child of ten who had yet to experience the pleasures of the flesh.
According to folklore, Justus explained to this assemblage, the grave of a vampire could be detected by leading an unmutilated horse, ridden by a virgin, through the cemetery. If the horse refused to pass over any of the graves, those sepulchers likely harbored a member of the undead. If that happened, they would have to exhume the corpse, cut off its head, stuff the mouth with garlic, and drive a wooden stake or large iron nail through the heart so that the body could not rise again. This would have to be repeated at each of the cemeteries in the village and in the surrounding countryside.
Justus confided in me later that he felt terribly guilty misleading the earnest citizens of Getvar, now that he knew the truth, but we had no choice. The farce had to be played out. The secrets of the vampire race had to be preserved, and mortal man protected from his own avaricious nature.
In the first cemetery we visited, the great black steed crossed every grave without hesitation, so we moved on to the next, a smaller, more ancient boneyard that encompassed only a dozen graves. This graveyard was a private cemetery that housed the members of an extinct noble family. The mayor tried to lead the horse across the graves as he had previously, but the stallion reared up at the second one, and refused to go any further.
“Ah!” Lord Gundic cried. “So it is the cursed Tadics who blight our fair village!”
Lord Gundic’s ancestors, we found out later, had warred with the Tadics several generations previous, and were mainly responsible for the fall of House Tadic.
“Dig it up! Dig it up!” Lord Gundic commanded, pointing a trembling finger at the grave. The weathered stone leaning over the offending grave stated Paladije Tadic 1472 – 1498, the script worn nearly to illegibility by time and the elements.
By sundown, we had exhumed three graves in the Tadic cemetery. Each coffin housed a curiously well-preserved member of House Tadic, which we promptly staked through the heart and beheaded. None of them were vampires, of course. The quality of the soil in which they had been interred (a viscous clay) is the most probable explanation for their lack of decomposition, but Getvar’s new vampire hunters were adequately impressed. The final corpse that we desecrated, the most recently buried member of House Tadic, even groaned audibly when we staked her. It was j
ust gas, expelled from her bloated body when they hammered a stake through her heart, but the villagers cried out in horror, and convinced themselves that she had tried to come out of her grave and attack them.
A crowd had gathered by then, buzzing with excitement. The citizens of Getvar watched us avidly, relieved that something was finally being done to protect them.
The bodies of the Tadic “vampires” were sprinkled with holy water, prayed over by both Father Abramovic and Friar Justus, and reburied, then we all went home to rest and have our supper, promising to meet at Mayor Ivosevic’s manor at first light the next morning.
There were several more graveyards that had to be checked for “vampires” before our work in Getvar was finished, but I was satisfied. I had done what needed to be done. The mortals had been deceived, the truth obscured by superstition and ritual. I intended the retire with the rest of the men, relax for a little while, and then, after everyone had gone to bed, proceed with the real business of ridding Getvar of its ghouls.
11
The innkeeper showed me to my room after supper, apologizing for her oversight the previous night. She was a bellicose woman, loud and fussy, but I liked her. She had heard about the day’s events and fretted after Friar Justus and I like we were visiting royalty.
“Think nothing of it, Madame,” I replied magnanimously. “Friar Justus was kind enough to share his bed with me last night. I was not inconvenienced in the least.”
Relieved that I was not offended, she promised to charge me only half the going rate for the previous evening.
“You are a fair-minded woman,” I said with a slight bow, and then I bid her good night and shut the door gently on her.
After her footfalls (and mutterings) had receded down the stairs, I crossed the corridor and let myself into Friar Justus’s room.
Justus was sitting beside the window, reading his Bible. He looked up when I entered, his face drawn in the sallow light of the lamp. “Signor Fa did not reserve a room here for the night,” he said.
“And who is that again?” I asked, shutting the door behind me.
“The fruit seller who lives out by Golub Creek.”
“Ah.”
“I asked the innkeeper when I did not see him come in. She said he was much relieved that we had killed the Tadic vampires and had decided to go home for the night rather than stay at the inn.”
“That’s unfortunate,” I said.
“Yes, most unfortunate, considering the corpses we desecrated today were no more vampires than I,” the monk said, setting his bible aside and rising. “If Signor Fa is assaulted by your ghouls tonight, as he was the evening that he related to us, it will be our fault.”
“We will go and check on his safety immediately,” I assured the young man.
“And that is another thing,” Justus said. “Why do you want me to accompany you? What good can it serve? I am no immortal. I do not have your preternatural strength. If you must do battle with those generate creatures, I will only be a hindrance to you.”
“Are you frightened?” I asked. “Surely you know that I will protect you.”
“Yes, I’m frightened. And I’m exhausted. I have been exhuming the dead and mutilating their corpses all day.”
“Then go to bed,” I said, a little more hotly than I intended. “I will go and hunt the degenerate ones myself. I do not need your assistance. You are correct. You would only be a liability to me. I only wished to share in this adventure with you.”
“Why?” he demanded. “Why did you initiate me into your hellish inner circle? Why do you want me at your side? Why did you pick me?”
“I didn’t choose this,” I said. “You did.”
His shoulders fell. “Your truths have shattered my faith, Gyozo,” he murmured. “I am a tattered soul now.”
“Then be a tattered soul with me,” I said urgently.
“I do not want to be what you are.”
“You don’t have to be! Believe me, I would not force this curse upon anyone.”
“Do you promise?” he asked.
“I do.”
I was lying.
12
Oh, I did not know that I was lying. I had the noblest of intentions. But in hindsight, my behavior towards Justus was suspect at best. I purposely placed the cleric in harm’s way, and why? Because there was a part of me, a wicked, grasping part of me, that wanted to impress him with my unnatural powers, thrill him with danger, seduce him with immortality and all its cold, dark glamours. I wanted him to be so dizzied with envy and lust and excitement that he begged me for the living blood.
Justus locked the door of his room as I went to the window and opened it. The chill night air wafted across my cheeks, carrying with it the chirping of insects and the low conversation of the night watch huddled down below. They were at the door of the inn again, talking about the vampires we had dispatched that afternoon. The whole town was abuzz with tales of our exploits.
Justus changed into a tunic and breeches as I belted my sword around my waist. I handed him my dagger with a daring grin and then I swept him into my arms. “Do not cry out,” I said to him, and then I climbed from the window and leapt easily to the roof.
The young friar did not shout when I vaulted to the roof, but his body stiffened and his arms tightened around my neck.
“That was frightful!” he whispered, his eyes wide, and then he laughed, somewhat breathlessly.
“Be quiet,” I admonished him, but I was smiling, too. I raced lightly across the roof of the inn and then bound through the air and into the field beyond.
I landed in a crouch, doing my best not to jostle my companion overly much. Try as I might to cushion him from the forces of my movement, however, I am not a magical being, and it took quite a lot of energy to propel our combined weight so far through the air. His head jerked to and fro and he grunted in pain.
“Are you injured?” I whispered.
“N-no,” he stammered. “I don’t think so.”
I sat him gently on the ground and waited for his battered senses to settle.
“Let us proceed to Golub Creek,” I hissed, and he nodded.
Mindful of the night guard, we hurried away through the field, staying low. As the village fell out of sight behind a screen of rustling trees, we heard one of the watchmen call out the time: “Nine o’clock and all is wellll!” The echoing cry stirred the village dogs to barking, and some irate villager yelled, “Quiet, you bastards!”
I’m not sure if he was addressing the hounds or the watchman.
The eastern road was but two dusty grooves winding through grassy fields and dense woods. Already a light mist had arisen from the earth. We walked, our feet stirring the milky puddles of fog, conversing in low voices as we kept a wary watch around us. The moon was bright, a silver ornament hanging in the center of the sky. It was so bright even Justus could make his way without stumbling.
“Do you detect any ghouls nearby?” the friar hissed. “You said your senses are greatly amplified over a normal mortal’s ken. Will we have fair warning if one of them dares attack?”
“Yes and yes,” I replied, meaning yes, there were ghouls nearby, and yes, we would have fair warning if they decided to attack us. “Justus, I can see all the tiny drops of moisture floating in the air, globules of water so minute they are weightless. I can hear the flapping of a moth’s wings. I can smell Mayor Ivosevic’s flatulence in his bed back at the village. I can even tell you what he had for supper.”
Justus pulled a face. “That’s revolting!”
I laughed.
“And the ghouls?”
I narrowed my eyes. “They passed near here. As recently as last night, I estimate. But they are far away now. We are not in danger.”
Justus moved a little closer, his finger’s tightening on the hilt of the dagger I had loaned him.
“I can hear your heart beating in your chest, too,” I said. “Be calm. I will let no harm come to you.”
“All right
,” the friar said. He let out a tremulous breath and said it again, as if he were trying to convince himself of it. “All right.”
13
“I smell blood,” I said, putting a hand on Justus’s chest. He twitched in surprise, then drew close to my side, eyeing the creaking woods that surrounded us.
“Blood?” he hissed. “Whose blood?”
“Signor Fa,” I replied grimly, and he let out a horrified groan.
“God forgive us for our deceits,” he whispered. “That blood you smell is on our hands!”
“Quiet!” I snapped.
I lifted him from his feet and hurried forward, ignoring his protests.
Down the road, near the wooden bridge that spanned Golub Creek, the fruit seller’s cart lay overturned. His wares—quinces, plums, apples—were scattered across the earth. The smell of blood was palpable, and there was a large stain on the ground near the cart. Blood, black in the moonlight. As we stood there staring mutely at the wagon, we heard a labored grunting sound and some splashing in the creek below.
“What is that?” Justus gasped, clutching at my sleeve.
“Calm yourself,” I said. “It is only the merchant’s horse.”
Telling the friar to wait nearby, I hopped down into the creek.
The merchant’s palfrey lay on her side, struggling weakly in the muck. Two of the animal’s legs were broken, and her neck and flank were crosshatched with congealed wounds. The degenerate ones had fed on her after attacking the fruit seller, leaving the animal to die in agony after their bellies were full. The poor beast must have panicked when the ghouls set upon her master and raced over the side of the embankment.
I could see their footprints in the mud beside the sluggish flow. There were three sets, two children and an adult. Madame Damilan and the children who had gone missing, perhaps.
“Is Signor Fa down there?” Friar Justus shouted down.
The Oldest Living Vampire Betrayed (The Oldest Living Vampire Saga Book 4) Page 18
