The door to the restricted section isn’t far off, just a few steps away, through the darkness where this thing apparently has some power. I need to figure out a way I can get past this ancient beast, I think of just making a run for it, but I know there is no way that I’ll be able to outrun it. Just as I start to despair at the hopelessness of the situation the space around me begins to fill with a warm blue light. A sharp ringing slowly gets louder in my ear, causing me to clench my head in agony.
“Psalm 23:4, Yekaterina.” My papa’s voice is ringing inside my head, clear as day, almost like he is standing right next to me. “Remember to have faith, solnishko.”
The ringing in my ears stops, and I try and remember exactly what psalm he was talking about, it’s been so long since I even looked at the Bible. I focus hard, digging through the archives of my brain, trying to remember what it is when it finally hits me. Of course, how did I ever forget that one, I use to know it by heart? There is just one problem now; I don’t have any faith left, I lost it so long ago, I can’t regain it at a moment’s notice.
The black mass is slinking back and forth in front of me, waiting for me to make my move as I try to think of what to do next. Suddenly it dawns on me, what if it’s not God I need to have faith in? It was not God’s voice I heard, it was my papa’s, so I know he is somewhere with me. My papa has always protected me in life, he never failed to keep me safe growing up, so maybe I just need to have faith that he can keep me safe now. Seeing no better alternative, I resigned myself to at least try; I owed Victor this much, I can’t give up now. Taking a deep breath, I look into the black mist as it waits for me to move.
“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,” I take an unsure step into the beast’s territory, surprisingly it doesn’t attack. “I will fear no evil,” I press on, the cross around my neck grows hot as it begins to emit a divine white light. “For you are with me,” I cautiously walk through the shadows, waiting for the creature to attack, but doesn’t touch me. “Your rod and your staff protect and comfort me.”
The door for the room is within arm’s reach now, so I bolt for it, pushing myself through it, falling down to the floor as I escape into the safety of a lit chamber. Panting on my hands and knees, I listen as the creature makes unearthly groans and wails from the other side of the door. Getting back up on to my feet I press my back to the door, trying to still my raging heart.
The room itself is small, no bigger than the apartment I had left Victor in. Unlike the rest of the library, the floors here are not carpeted, they are solid pine wood. The mustard walls are barely illuminated by the two large pendulum lamps that hang from the ceiling. One of these lamps hangs above a long wood table which predates my time by about three hundred years. Much to my surprise, the table has books and notes splayed out all over it; there must be someone else in here with me. Odd, considering not many people come in here as the books in this section contain information that is not for the faint of heart.
This room houses all the books on the occult that were acquired after the fall of communism, books spanning centuries of human knowledge on the subject. Some of them have even belonged to old Rasputin himself. The clergymen of current days have no interest in the matters of the occult anymore, many of them have denounced things like Victor, and I even exist, heresy they call us. Needless to say, this portion of the building sits unused and forgotten. Accept today some brave soul dared to venture into the archives to take a bite out of the forbidden knowledge.
It seemed rather pointless to fret over who was and was not here, I am a ghost after all, so it’s not like they will see me. As far as I am concerned, my only worry should be on trying to figure out how to pry these books open so I can actually read them. Guess that was the one bridge I would have to figure out how to cross when I got to it, now I needed to find the section containing the books on vampires. Floating along the tightly packed shelves I read over the handwritten labels until I find what I’m looking for, and there I find the man I am sharing the space with.
The man appears to be in his mid-thirties, very simple looking, but handsome all at the same time. He has a natural elegance to him with his long brown hair pulled back into a neat ponytail. It’s been a while since he shaved, the stubble on his face gives him a scholarly look, which is magnified by the round metal frames that are perched on the tip of his sharp nose. Judging by his clothing, he is not from around here. No one in Russia wears green corduroy pants or a heavy-knit brown wool sweater, with turtlenecks to boot. I begin to wonder where this man came from, and what brought him to Moscow in the dead of winter.
In his hands, I spot a worn leather-bound book, his face is buried in its pages, and he is oblivious to me standing next to him. Turning towards me he stares at the spot I’m in, blinking his brown eyes a few times he pushes his round glasses up onto his face. The man sides steps past me and walks to the table, settling down to scribble away in his notebook. That was strange; only Victor has ever done that. Most people just walk right through me, it’s almost as if he had seen me.
I look over my hands one more time to make sure I did not somehow reappear as a physical being again, still translucent. There is no way he could have spotted me, and yet his behavior was so unlike any which I encountered before. Shrugging my shoulders, I go about my business looking at books. There is one, in particular, I want to find, one that was cherished by Rasputin as the bible on vampires, but in this unorganized chaos, it will take some time.
The shelves to either side of me are covered with ancient books on vampire lore, some of them date back to ancient Mesopotamia. In retrospect, it’s interesting to see how much information has been gathered on things like me, and yet, the general population remains oblivious to our existence. Spotting a book on the history of vampires, I try to grab hold of it, but as expected it just slip through my fingers. Refusing to get discouraged I walk over to a small metal cart containing a few books that have not found a home on the shelves yet.
Scanning over the contents of newer books, I spot one that may be of interest to me, but once more I can’t grab hold. Frustrated, I turn to go back to the shelved when the hem of my skirt gets caught on the wheel causing me to fall face first to the floor. Something behind me hits the floor with a dull thud. Rubbing my forehead, I turn to see that my mishap has dislodged a book from the cart, leaving it open on the floor.
The gentleman sitting at the table looks up from his book and looks over in my direction. I look at him from the floor in terror at the prospect that maybe I became visible again. How does one even go about explaining to a mortal that you are a ghost? By some good stroke of luck, he doesn’t seem to see me lying there, readjusting his glasses he shakes his head and returns to his note taking.
Awkwardly I stumble back to my feet, cursing the fact I had to die in a dress of all things. My fault really, I wanted to use mama’s old dress to look nice for Victor, but I did not have time to adjust the hem of the skirt, so it hangs a bit lower than what I’m used to. Floating over to the book that fell over, I study its open pages, an encyclopedia on the supernatural apparently. Unfortunately, though, it fell open to a section on werewolves. Clearly, this portion will have nothing in it about helping Victor. In a feeble attempt, I flick at the pages, but as I figured, nothing happens. Giving up on the encyclopedia, I head back to the shelves to look for the book I came here to find.
I browse every shelf thoroughly, scouring their titles until I spot what I am looking for. On one of the topmost shelves sits an ancient thick tome, leather bound with copper studs. In faded gold letters, the cover simply reads Vampyr. There it is, the book which once belonged to the infamous cursed monk of Tsar Nicholas II. From what Anastasia has told me over the years, this one is rumored to contain all human knowledge on Vampires, if anything has information on how to help Victor, this will be it. Pulling it lightly with my finger, all I succeed in doing is running through its binding. Foiled yet again, I stand with my arms crossed, tapping my foot
on the floor in frustration, trying to think of a way I can grab hold of the tome.
The man who has been unknowingly keeping me company gets up from his table and walks over to the cart where the encyclopedia still lays open. Kneeling, he picks it up and looks over at me frowning. He closes the book shut, and puts it back on its cart, looking back over to where I am standing. Tilting his head to the top shelf that I’m looking at, he gets up and walks right over to me, looking at the section I was just studying.
Cradling his stubbly chin in his hand, he skims over the shelf I wanted to access. He begins to walk the fingers of his other hand slowly along the bindings of the old books, muttering something in a language I did not understand. Abruptly he stops when his finger hits the exact book I wanted, and I can’t help but squeal with excitement. Glancing down in my direction he nods, pulls the book off the shelf and walks off with it to the table.
Once again, I feel like he is aware of my presence, but the thought is so preposterous that I push it to the back of my mind. Quickly I walk over to the table he is sitting at, Rasputin’s prized book now sits open to the first page. The man goes back to reading another book he already had opened, taking notes, leaving the book on vampires free for me to study. Not questioning why he has so many books open, I peer over his shoulder and start to read the elaborate calligraphy on the yellowed parchment.
Vampires are ancient creatures of the night who survive primarily on the blood of the living. A vampire cannot be out in the sunlight as the direct rays of the sun will burn the creature into a pile of ash. No one knows how vampires originated, but we do know that the creatures are neither living nor dead. In fact, they appear to share a lot of the characteristics of a living person while maintaining superhuman powers. It appears that unlike other supernatural beings, one cannot be born a vampire, the person must be turned by another. This can be achieved when the beast bites the victim's neck and precedes to feed them their blood, effectively “killing” the victim. Once the death of the physical body has been achieved a transformation into a vampire can take place.
It does not take me long to quickly read through the first page, learning absolutely nothing new in the process. I poke at the valium, trying to get it to budge, but it lays flat, not willing to move. Leaning over the stranger's shoulder I try blowing on the pages to see if I can turn them this way, but this too fails. Guess I will just have to wait for him to begin reading this book, so I can read along. The man beside me removes his glasses from his face. Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, he begins to clean them, all without looking up from the text he is immersed in.
“Would you like me to turn the page for you?” he says in perfect Russian but with a thick accent.
He hasn’t looked up from the text he is studying, so I am a bit confused as to who he is speaking to, I could have sworn we were alone. I look around the room to see if anyone else has come in during the time I was browsing the shelves, but there is no one else here. Was it really possible he was talking to me? I had a sneaky suspicion he was aware of me, but he said nothing until now, so I thought I imagined it.
“Yes, I’m talking to you,” he places the glasses back on his crooked nose and finally turns to look at me,” the one lingering behind me.”
“You…you can see me?” I tilt my head at him in confusion.
“Seeing you is not exactly the term I would use to describe it. You see, I can’t see what you look like, but I do see you in a way.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t follow.”
“I am a supernatural being, much like you, and one of my powers is being able to see auras, the spiritual energies of the things around me. And with you being a spirit and all, your aura is easier to spot than say one that is still anchored to a body. So, you see my friend; it’s not that I see you, I just see your essence floating about. A lovely pink essence if I may add, a very pure soul indeed.”
“What on earth are you? And how come you are able to hear me when I speak if you only see my energy?”
“What I am is of no consequence, I mean you no harm, so you don’t have to worry about it. As for why I can hear you, well, that’s because you want me to hear you.”
Unconvinced he is harmless I study him over carefully, trying to discern the man’s real intent. I am not familiar with the supernatural, not many rumors reach me in my peaceful world, but what kind of creature could possibly see ghosts, when even Victor couldn’t do it? Also, what is all this talk about me wanting him to hear me, was this some strange ghost trick I was not made aware of? Is this desire to be heard the same reason Victor heard me in the alley the night we were reunited? So many questions swirl in my head, I want answers, but it seems the only person capable of providing me with them is refusing to talk.
“Why don’t you show yourself?”
“I’m afraid that I just don’t know how.” I look down at my feet in shame.
“I see a ghost who has not figured out all its powers yet. It’s okay my friend; I’ll teach you how.” He crosses his legs and continues to look me over “Think of something that evokes a big emotional response in you, it can be anything, but the feeling has to be painfully intense, try the last feeling you had when you died”
A feeling I had when I died? I try to think back that far, attempting to remember exactly what I felt when I took my last breath. It had something to do with Victor, yes, I remember now. I was yearning to be near Victor, to be able to die by his side and tell him I love him one last time.
Recalling the feeling I had that fateful night, I was afflicted with an extraordinary agony. Every single bone in my body felt as if it was getting broken; my skin felt like someone was filleting it from me one piece at a time. Barely able to contain a wail that was building up in my throat, I clutched the top of the table, sinking my nails deep into the wood. When the torment finally stopped, I noticed I was solid again, the man across from me sat smiling as he glanced over me.
“Does it always have to be this painful to change?”
“I’m afraid so, we are cursed creatures, after all, we were made to suffer. When I transform it’s no less painful for me, it’s what keeps my kind from turning savage. As for you, it is pain that keeps you from transcending into the veil.” He extended his hand out to me. “What’s your name by the way?”
“Yekaterina Orlova, but my friends just call me Katya” I take his hand reluctantly to shake it.
“Well, a pleasure to meet your acquaintance.” He smiles warmly at me as we shake “I’m Father Shawn McAllister.”
“Father? So, you’re like a priest or something?”
“Yes, or something…” Shawn winks at me “…a Catholic priest to be precise actually, but in name only, I don’t particularly practice any religion, I only study them.”
“I see. So where are you from Father?”
“I’m from Boston, Massachusetts. And please, just call me Shawn, I really dislike my title, I only became ordained so I could gain access to the books the Vatican keeps hidden in their secret library.”
“Where in tarnation is this Boston?”
“United States of America.”
“Oh well, I don’t see many Americans around these parts. I have to say your Russian is outstanding.” I frown recalling what he said after that “Did you say Vatican archives by the way?”
“Thank you, and yes, I did.”
“But, those have not been open to anyone outside the Vatican since before I was born…” I study over this man who in no way looks older than thirty-five “…how old are you, Shawn?”
“Far older than I look, my dear,” he lets out a mellow laugh “God-fearing girl I take it?” he points to the cross around my neck, and I cover it up. “How else would you have known when the Vatican archives closed to everyone.”
“I used to be,” I say bitterly, “in my former life, but not anymore.”
“I understand, you don’t have to explain yourself, once you know what’s really out there it’s hard to believe in fairy tales.�
��
This is the first priest that I met who told me they did not believe in God, not sure how to respond to this strange man I just nod my head in agreement. Shawn continues to smile and pulls out a chair next to him, inviting me to sit down, warily I join him. Reaching up he slips a finger under my cross; I recoil at his touch, I always hated being touched by anyone other than Victor.
“I’m sorry Katya,” Father McAllister says reassuringly “I did not intend to offend you, just wanted a closer look. You’re stuck with it, aren’t you?”
“Yes, and I hate it.”
“How come?”
“Because it’s all been a lie, everything that I had believed in turned out to be a farce.” I start crying uncontrollably, finally able to tell someone how I feel. “I was so proud of my cross when papa gave it to me, so proud of my faith, but it turned out to be nothing more than a story. No God, no pearly gates, and no heaven where the good Christians go to live happily ever after.”
“True,” Shawn holds my shoulder and hands me his handkerchief, “the real afterlife is far from what religion teaches us, but for most, it’s still there. And what if I told you the Bible is not all full of lies, that it actually contains factual information?”
“I would say you were pulling my leg. I read that book from cover to cover several times, I know it by heart, I’m yet to see any shred of truth to it.”
“So how did you get past the hellhound in the hallway?”
“Hellhound? You mean the black mist that lives in the shadows?”
“Yes, that, how did you get past it without being torn to bits?”
“I heard papa’s voice, and he told me to recite a….” I pause, I guess I have seen evidence that was contrary to my belief. “…he told me to recite a psalm and have faith.”
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