Toska

by A. R. Kingston

  Strolling down the street toward the direction of the Tretyakov Gallery, I suddenly smell it, the fresh scent of a month-old corpse. This was it, my sign, the person who was going to save Victor and soil my spirit with their dying breath. Following the scent down a tight alleyway I come to the back of a travel agency, and there I spot him. Inside a cardboard box sleeps a man whom I encountered earlier by the library a few days ago, he is getting ready to die soon. He will be perfect, he is far too weak, so I know he will still be here in a few hours when I bring Victor to have his drink.

  I stand over the man, questioning what exactly I am doing here, how did I fall so far? The Bible has taught me that Jesus loved us so much that he sacrificed himself to free us of our sins, but here I am, about to sin again. I can hear the demon laughing from the inside of me, gleeful at what I am going to do. A sneaky serpent that once told Eve to eat the forbidden fruit is now overjoyed at me surrendering my soul to unforgivable sin. All my mortal life I worked hard to keep the evil forces from corrupting me, now in death I find myself about to burn on the pyre of my own creation.

  I apologize to the man for what I am about to do, and for the first time in one-hundred and fifty-three years, I ask God for forgiveness. I still don’t believe in him, but the sin I am about to commit is far too much for my soul to bear on its own. I need forgiveness; I need absolution, I need someone to tell me what has become of me. But the act I’m about to go through with has no forgiveness, and once I go down this road, there will never be going back.

  Do I really love Victor so much that I am willing to sacrifice my soul in exchange for his life? There is no point in trying to deny it, I know I do, I’d give my life for that man, but that’s not why I’m here. No, this can’t be it at all, because I sacrificed my soul for Victor the night I died, I’m past the point of no return now. And that’s the truth, I’m a sinner, and I will never kneel before the cross again. Instead, I will continue to rise from the ashes like a Phoenix. As long as I have something here that I want to protect, I will continue to rise, and I will allow the flames to renew me every time I burn.

  No longer am I the good girl I was in life, I have stumbled along the way, but I never fell. This heinous act cannot define me because I won’t let it. We are so much more than the sum of our parts, the good and the bad combined, for light cannot exist without darkness. I am a supernatural being now, a child of the night, I needed to accept this if I wished to save my soul. This was my startling conclusion, one which put me at peace with what we were going to do tonight.

  Stealing one last glance at the marked man, I head back home to wait for the sun to set, once it does I will be back here to do what needs to be done. I do feel guilty for what I am about to do, but now I realize that it’s the nature of life; we live, and we die, with the strong preying on the weak to survive. The laws of nature are different from the word of God, and in my state, I had to pick one, so I was going to pick the one that allows us to live. As a ghost, I was going to embrace the beast within before it had a chance to destroy me.

  It took a lot of convincing, but I managed to get Victor out of the house. He was visibly upset at the thought that I would go out and do what I did. I know he hates himself because I did this for him, but I assured him that my choices were my own and I would not have it any other way. Once again, a woman was guiding a man to damnation, Adam and Eve all over again, oh how history tends to repeat itself. This is our reality now; this is the fate we are forced to accept, this is the nature of the beast.

  So here we are, standing over a man sleeping on cardboard under the winter sky, getting ready to breathe his last breath. In the dead of night, I can hear voices whispering, laughing even as they look on and wait for what we are about to do. In the alleyways misty tentacles move about, reaching for us but not yet willing to take hold. I won’t allow it, we might be sinners, but it would have to fight me for our souls. Next to me, Victor shakes his head, dismayed, and collapses onto his knees.

  “I can’t do this Katechka; I can’t allow you to become a sinner because of me. You should run away from me, go be free and leave me to my fate. Don’t allow this curse of mine to taint your pure soul.”

  “The Bible says that we are born sinners, or did you forget that love? We sin, we die, we get reborn only to sin again, it’s a vicious cycle. I don’t think there is a way for us not to sin, it’s a folly in our design, a long-standing cosmic joke since men were put upon the Earth. All our life we strive so hard to free ourselves of the sin we were born with when in reality, it is our sin that keeps the world turning. The light needs the darkness as the living need the air they breathe, and virtue cannot exist without sin. Therefore, each of us must occasionally sin so our virtues can shine through.”

  “But Kotek, you are helping me commit murder, I can’t allow you to do this. You are far too good for such an act.”

  “Victor, this man will be dead in an hour or so. He is suffering, think of this as a mercy kill.” I glance at the man moaning at our feet in pain. Raising my eyes to Victor’s I can easily make out the distress in his glistening eyes, can’t say I blame him. “Look, even animals kill to survive, and that’s all we are now, animals, struggling to stay alive in this cold human world. We no longer have the luxury of our humanity on our side, so don’t feel like you have to be bound to the rules of the mortal world.”

  “I know he’s dying; he has cirrhosis, has been suffering for some time from the smell of it. But it still doesn’t make this right. At what point in our life did we lose all our morals and reason? I know I’m a monster, but that should not mean I have to surrender to the devil’s call with ease.”

  I don’t question how Victor is able to know what this man is dying from; he is a predator after all. If I can smell when a person is about to die, perhaps vampires can tell exactly why the person is dying, self-preservation I take it. I just wish Victor did not struggle with what he was as much as he is. Unlike me, he still has not come to accept what he has become; he was yet to embrace this curse. Taking a deep breath, I exhale loudly, he isn’t going to like what I’m going to say to him, but he needs to hear it regardless.

  “Morals and ethics are fickle things, darling; they evolve over time, and they vary by culture. And what are we but humble wheats that must adapt to where they are planted if we are to survive and thrive? We can stand here all night discussing the finer points of philosophy, never coming to the same conclusion twice. Or, you can accept the nature of what you are and have your meal so you can live to fight another day. Regardless of what you do here, this man will die soon. The choice is yours, but I would rather you choose life, for I am selfish and not willing to let you go again.”

  Victor looks at me distraught; he’s probably wondering what has turned me into such a cold-hearted creature. I don’t know the answer to that myself; maybe it was time, maybe it was the pain of losing him, or perhaps I did not return with a heart, to begin with. Glancing back down at the bum on the ground, I can’t bring myself to feel bad for what I’m asking Victor to do. One fading life for a chance to have him live, the burden is great, but it is one I’m willing to live with. Finding his resolve, Victor nods his head and goes down on his knee by the man, scooping him up from the ground.

  “Then don’t look,” he looks up at me with a pleading gaze “I can’t stand the thought of you seeing me for the monster I really am.”

  “I’ve already watched you feed once,” I shrug “I don’t think of you as a monster, not anymore. We are what we are, we can’t change that, so the best I can do is continue to love you despite what you have become.”

  With a solemn nod Victor kneels and bites into the man’s neck, he is too far gone to put up a fight, and Victor feeds reluctantly. Dropping the lifeless body back on the cardboard, he gets up and wipes the trickle of blood running down his chin. We stand there in silence, looking over the body by our feet. The look on the face of the dead man is serene, he is finally at peace, finally free from a life of pain.


  Taking hold of Victor’s hand, I give it a squeeze, and he looks over at me with a soft smile for the first time since we got here. Taking comfort in death may seem strange, but for us, it’s a refuge. For most people, the struggle is over once they die, for us it continues eternally, and we must constantly be adjusting if we are to keep our sanity. The city has nothing to offer us now; next stop is home, tonight we leave the darkness behind for the temporary asylum of the country.

  11

  Brief Sanctuary

  W

  e have been in Dedinovo for two weeks now, staying in my old house, the one I use to live in when I was still alive. My papa’s shop had collapsed and was removed a few years after his death, but the main house remains. Until recently, it has been well maintained in my memory, but as the population declined there was no one left to take care of it. Today the locals leave it well enough alone, and no one visits the small blue cottage in the woods anymore.

  As Shawn had implied, the fresh country air seems to have done Victor some good, and the cattle blood that is readily available has replenished his strength. Even the resilient cut on his leg has finally healed up, and I was able to remove the sutures I thought would be there forever. Cold winter nights belong to us now to do with as we please. Most of them we spend taking long strolls along the abandoned country roads or sitting by the lifeless fireplace discussing everything that has happened to us over the ages. On occasion, we go out in the Lada; Victor has taken it upon himself to teach me to drive, I’m slowly getting the hang of it even if I don’t see the point.

  The suffocating shadows which had assaulted us in Moscow had disappeared, my connection with the beast has been severed. Only thing permeating the night here is the dead silence of the serene countryside. For some reason, the tentacles of the beast and its many minions are confined within the limits of the city, whatever has allowed them through there must also be what is keeping them in. With the darkness gone the effects it had on me have also vanished, there is no longer a fire in my chest, just a soft pattering of my heart.

  Despite our efforts, we are no closer to figuring out who killed us than the night we came, and at this point, we gave up caring. The year is winding to an end, and we have been thinking of remaining here, never to set foot in the city again. Obviously, we cannot stay in my house forever. Eventually, we will have to move, but as long as we don’t return to the city, we may be alright. We keep entertaining the idea of making a life here together, just like we once did all those years ago.

  My days are spent outside, wondering about the overgrown garden. Once my family grew crops there, now only weeds remain. I remember papa’s favorite crops were tomatoes and cucumbers, we enjoyed them fresh throughout the summer, and during fall babushka would pickle them for the winter. Papa would take a few jars of each and bring them down the road to Victor’s house where he would trade it for some jars of kompot. That’s how we always did it; our families use to be very close.

  After our death, Victor’s parents moved away to avoid the scrutiny, and my babushka died the same year from the stress of it all. The tragedy of our death did not end with us; it consumed everyone around us too. We don’t often think about it, but death is like a stone thrown in the water, its ripples extend far beyond the initial point of impact. The person that murdered us did more than just end our lives, they have destroyed the lives of countless others with their heinous act, and to what extent?

  Depressed by the happy memories which once used to live here I glance back over at my once humble home. The blue paint on the house has fared well, only a few chips here and there, and the intricate white panes are still intact. I used to think my house looked so silly with those windows; Papa made them look similar to the ones found in fairy tales. What a dreamer that man was, I get a lot of it from him; I just wish I praised his darn windows more often. If only I knew how soon my life would end, I would have never complained about them once or joked about how silly they looked.

  Yes, the cruel fact of life is that you only grow to appreciate the small things when the moment for it had long passed. As my dead heart grieves for past mistakes, I sit under the large oak tree which grows by my house, a tree Victor and I planted when we were kids. It was not long after we met; running around in the woods together we found an acorn and brought it back to my house to plant. I recall Victor saying that it will be a symbol of us, growing stronger with every passing year and always withstanding the test of time, and he was right. Overwhelmed by so many bittersweet memories, I bury my face in my legs and start to cry.

  I’m sure our families would have been happy to know we have found each other again. If only they could see us now, living happily here in our house like they had envisioned. Instead, they all died not knowing what happened to us, though maybe, that’s a blessing considering what we have become. I realize now I have no choice but to remember what happened that night, I don’t want to, but I need to do it. Our families would have liked us to have closure so we could move on, we owe them at least this much.

  Sobbing into my dress, I don’t notice the sun has set, or that Victor has woken up, joining me under the tree in the crisp winter night. Silently, he sits next to me and wraps me in his arms, pressing me firmly to his strong body. He had always known exactly what I needed, when I needed it, all without me having to utter a single word. It’s almost like we are linked by an invisible thread, with one not able to survive without the other. Leaning my head on his shoulder I continue to cry silently as he rubs my arm, the snow is starting to fall down on us, caressing us with frosty drops.

  “I know that look, I’ve always loved it,” he says gently kissing my head. “We can’t stay here, can we?”

  “No, I’m afraid we can’t. I remember how broken-hearted papa was to lose me, and how distraught your parents were to have you accused of my murder. They all died never knowing what became of us; we owe it to them as much as to ourselves to put this issue to rest. Otherwise, I’m afraid that we will not be truly free until we do.”

  “I understand that one all too well. As a matter of fact, I have come to the same conclusion a few days ago; I was just waiting for the right time to tell you.” Victor leans his head against the tree with a hefty sigh. Closing his eyes, he allows the snow to dust his face. The bright white flakes look as if they belong on his pale skin. “Alright Kotek, let’s go see if we can figure out this century-old murder mystery.”

  “But we have looked everywhere, and tried everything, what else is left for us to do? It’s not like we can go interview people, everyone we have known is dead, there are no clues left.”

  “I don’t know.” He tilts his head to glance over at me; his pale green eyes look hauntingly beautiful under the light of the full moon. “How about we just go to the place this all started and see if either one of us remembers anything?”

  “Alright.” Holding his hand, I look up at the moon and smile, it reminds me of the last time I saw it when I was alive. “Sometimes I’m not sure what I’d do without your love. You help me see the light in places where I once only saw darkness.”

  “Don’t say that. You are the light; you should never have to see darkness. And you know, you’ve been fine without me for the last hundred and fifty plus years.” He gingerly strokes my cheek, “All I am is a simple fool put here by God to keep his angel company.”

  “Ah Victor, you always did have a way with words, flattery is your strong suit.” Snorting, I glance over at him with a smirk, only he can see an angel where I see the devil. “But, no, up until now all I’ve been doing is merely surviving. For years I’ve been holding on to the hope that I will see you again someday. You may be a fool, but you are also the sun I need to blossom, without you my soul would eventually shrivel up and die.”

  “And you, my fair lady, have always loved me far more than I have deserved.” Victor brushes the snow off my face, giving me a soft kiss. “So, tell me fair maiden, is it a vampire that you were hoping to find?”

  “No, but it doe
s not matter to me what you are as long as you’re with me. My love for you is blind, any flaw you may have just makes you more endearing to me.”

  Laughing, Victor jumps to his feet. Scooping me into his arms, he spins me around like he has countless times in life. This is our new reality, but at the core of it all, we are still the same people we once were. The life we once had or the one we dreamed of had died with us that December night over a century and a half ago. That life we can never get back, but after we are done here we can start a new one from scratch, and this time, no one will take it away from us. We enjoy this fleeting moment of happiness, with me in his arms, before we set off down the dirt country road so we can try to piece back together the last few minutes of our lives.

  Walking arm in arm, we stroll down the snow painted road which leads from my house to the spot where this all began. The blue cottage is a ten-minute walk from the place where my body was found. We were so close to making it home that night until some twisted individual made sure we never saw it again. Now I understand why Shawn told me I knew our killer; we were apparently ambushed in the one spot where this person knew we would stop. The sadistic bastard who did this to us waited in the shadows to make their move, but maybe by chance, those shadows will become their undoing.

  Casually walking across a small bridge that spans the Tsna River, I catch a glimpse of our reflection in the dark water illuminated by the soft glow of the moon. I smile at how silly we look, a woman in an old-fashioned dress and a man in black, two displaced souls who have come together from different points in time. Over a century of separation couldn’t put a dent in our bond, and looking at the picture below me, I knew nothing ever will. Victor and I belong together, two souls linked eternally by fate.