Toska

by A. R. Kingston

  Sitting on the frozen ground, I start shaking, crying uncontrollably, and tearing at the fabric on the skirt of my dress. So many emotions streamed through my body; I was angry, and sad, and relieved all at the same time as the memories overwhelmed me. Victor crouched beside me, holding me tight in his arms, stroking my hair. The film strip of memories and the realization it brought had started to fade out of my head, the hollow chamber of my mind finally released me from its holding cell. The senses begin to return one by one, I can, at last, hear Victor’s voice next to me, pleading with me to respond.

  “Kotek, what’s wrong,” he has me firmly by the shoulder as he gives me a mild shake. “Please talk to me, tell me what’s happening.”

  “I remember…” I continue to sob as I press my head against his chest “…I remember it all.”

  “You remember who killed us? Tell me…” Victor pulls me away and studies me with his gaze “…tell me the bastard who did this to us.”

  “Nadia. It was Nadia the whole time. She shot me as we headed back to the road, then she stabbed you and bit into your neck. When she thought I was dead, she turned you into a vampire and made off with you to the city.”

  Moving his hand to the scar on his side he closed his eyes as if remembering where the mark came from. Victor must have had his own revelation, as his body grew stiff and began to shake. He was quiet, although he did not have to utter a single word, I could tell he was angry, I could also feel the tears falling from his face. This had to be separate from my memories; there was something else he needed to add to the equation.

  “What’s wrong Victor? Did you remember something else?

  “I should have known; I was too stupid to not figure out her plan. This is all my fault.” He whispers bitterly; his fists are clenched so tight that his ashen skin is turning starch white. “I let this happen to us, we are like this because of me.”

  “What are you talking about? How can you possibly be responsible for our death?”

  “Forgive me Katechka, forgive me for it all, I should have told you this while we were still alive.” Victor looks at me; his soft eyes are filled with tears as he recalls his darkest secret. “A month before our wedding, Nadia came on to me and tried to seduce me. She wanted to convince me not to marry you, run off and be with her instead.

  “Obviously, I refused, but she would not take no for an answer. That day she stormed out of my stables muttering how I will regret the day I ever dared scorn her. A few days later she vanished without a trace; I thought that was the end of it. But I should have known it was her who killed us when she claimed to have saved me after she spotted me in the snow. I knew her story sounded too good to be true; I should have never trusted her.”

  “Don’t blame yourself dearest love. You had no way of knowing what she was capable of, no one did. Even I would have a hard time believing she was capable of such things had I not seen them with my own eyes.”

  “That may be so, but I did have a choice to not to go back to her. I had the choice to not sleep with her, to not renounce everything I ever stood for.”

  “You were lonely; I get that, I was lonely too. I understand why you would want to be with someone who understood what you had become, someone who had a connection to your past, no matter how unpleasant it may have been. I don’t blame you for that; those mistakes are in the past now, it’s time for us to move on from them.”

  “Your forgiveness means the world to me; I hope you realize that I don’t deserve you now and that I did not deserve you then. You truly are a golden angel sent to me by God to guide me through this life.” Victor raises himself to his feet, offering me his hand to help me stand up. “I think it’s about time we put an end to this dark chapter in our life, don’t you?”

  I take his hand, and he gently hoists me up to my feet. The moon is hitting his face just right, and I can see a fire burning in his eyes, he looks more alive now than he ever was.

  “What are you proposing we do?”

  “Something I should have done a long time ago, we kill the woman who did this to us.”

  Not waiting for my answer, he takes my hand in his and pulls me down the road behind him. Victor and I walk back briskly to my cottage, not pausing for anything. Crossing the bridge an ominous cloud swirls around our reflection, masking the moon behind us. I was not one to believe in omens, but something about this had a sinister feel to it. A profound sense of foreboding crept up inside me the closer that we got to the house.

  The blue Lada was still parked buried under a heap of snow. Dropping my hand, Victor begins to scrape off the powder hastily with his forearm. This was new, Victor has never been so forceful or so vengeful before, but getting revenge on Nadia has lit some unprovoked passion in his soul. I’m not sure how I should feel about all this. A huge part of me wants Nadia to pay for what she did, but at the same time, I don’t want to kill anyone unless I have to. Unfortunately, there is no point in arguing with Victor now though, not when he is this determined, but I do hope that he comes to his senses before we get back to Moscow.

  When the car is clear of snow, Victor stands panting by his door, glancing over at me with his predatory eyes. I dare not say a word; he scares me when he is like this. Even if I know, he is still the same man from before, the dangerous air around him makes him appear terrifying, an untamed predator off his chain. Silently, we get in the car and begin our drive for the city, not daring to look one another in the eye.

  The night is still young; we will make it back before the sun starts to rise. I stare out the window, contemplating the troubling thoughts inside my head. There is the question of what I am going to do with Victor; he needs to maintain control, and right now he is a raging beast. But Victor’s tenacity is the least of my worries right now; it is my own darkness that scares me at my core. On the night I reunited with Victor, at the apartment when Nadia attacked him, I was able to unleash such frightening powers, but I had no idea where they came from.

  No ghost I know has ever had the ability to do what I did, but the rage I unleashed back there was on par with a wraith. And what of the fire that kept igniting in my chest every time I was in Moscow, why did it only burn when I was in the city? I’m afraid something other than longing died with me that night, something the beast in the city wished to extract from me. What darkness had been gathering inside me all of this time, and was there a way I’d be able to control it if need be? My uncanny abilities were terrifying on their own, but it’s what was after them that terrified me the most.

  The idea of having to face the octopus thing again sent chills down my spine as the city skyline grew closer in the distance. Whatever this beast was, it had known about my existence this whole time, and it was trying to catch me in its clutches every time we were in Moscow. I have no doubt it was its voice that I kept hearing in the shadows, beckoning me to join it, thirsting to devour my soul. There was no doubt in the back of my mind that I would have to face this darkness soon. My only concern was; I would come out on top, or succumb to its corrupting temptations.

  12

  True Absolute

  T

  he drive to the city was long, but I could tell something was wrong as soon as the skyline had appeared in our view. Even in my physical form, I could see the black mist enshrining the city, and the closer we got to its limits the darker the shadows have become. Crossing the Moscow city line, we are completely engulfed in a thick, dark fog, strangling the light with its presence. I dare not say anything to Victor, I’m not sure if vampires are capable of seeing the spirit realm, and I don’t wish to worry him. For the sight before me was far from the visions of the other side that I was used to.

  Usually, when us spirits get a glimpse of the other side, it’s more of a distortion in space and time. The wall separating the two realms thins and you can look through it, but it's similar to looking through hot air rising up from the city streets in the summer. We can always glance through this shimmering window, but we can’t touch it, and the souls on
the other side can’t reach us. This though, this was something else, it had to be of the spiritual realm because I could see it, but it had the ability to interact with me on a physical plane of existence.

  Looking around me, it would appear almost as if someone left a door open and the spirit realm had spilled over into our own. The darkness was oppressive; it was grabbing hold of me, choking the air out of my lungs. I can feel it all the way down to my core, my heart is ablaze once more, and something is once again threatening to rip through me. It would seem the demon that was hiding deep within the trenches of my soul has found its way out in the open, and now it was willing to shred me to bits to gain its freedom.

  Some ancient evil was afoot, and somehow it has found a way to take over Moscow. Cracking open a window it hit me, death, I could sense it in the air. The entire city reeked of carrion and ash; I feel like we just drove inside a working crematorium. Gagging, I push my disgust back down into my throat, this is the worst case of death I have encountered in all my years as a spirit. Even the battlefields did not smell this bad. It was almost as if the whole city was on fire and every soul within its walls was doomed to perish in the upcoming new year.

  Whatever this was that had its grip on the city seemed to affect Victor a lot more than it did me. His fever had returned, he was trembling, and his skin was almost completely white now. In the distance, I can hear muffled chanting, it appears to be Latin, and as soon as it starts up, Victor begins getting worse. He begins to perspire as the chanting grows louder, and I notice it feels as if someone had turned up the heat on us. The inside of the car is a sweltering oven, and the temperature continues to climb.

  Unable to adjust to the sudden spike in temperature, Victor begins to lose control of the car. We are starting to swerve all over the road as his grip on the steering wheel tightens, Victor looks like he might pass out at any moment. The Lada’s tires shriek with every twist of the wheel, and I am being thrashed violently around the interior as we weave between lanes. Somehow, we manage to cross the bridge before Victor loses consciousness, while the car continues to roll forward without anyone to tell it where to go.

  If we continue like this, we are bound to kill someone, and something tells me that Victor won’t be able to heal from his injuries. I do the only sensible thing I can think of, I place my torso across Victor’s chest and grab hold of the wheel. Still unable to reach the pedals I continue to keep the car steady in the lane as it careens down the empty street, the small white needle on the dash is creeping up to 80 kmph. There is only one way to stop the car now, shutting my eyes I prepare to do the unthinkable. With a sharp turn of the wheel, I instruct it to go for the nearest light pole; if I miss, we will go over the bridge into the Moskva River.

  Fortunately, my blind aim is dead on. We lunge forward as the car screeches to a halt with the sound of crunching metal and shattering glass. I am pinned between the wheel and Victor’s body, my shoulder throbs and my head stings. Barely able to move I manage to push Victor back and sit up, the car is making a hideous hissing sound. We are encased in a cloud of white smoke, or maybe it’s steam, I’m not really sure. Glancing over at Victor I notice he is unharmed for the most part; my body has absorbed most the impact, the only evidence of the crash is a small gash on his forehead that trickles dark blood down the side of his face.

  Still dazed and in pain, I managed to kick open the door which had contorted to almost twisting itself open. Grabbing hold of the jagged metal frame, I pull myself forward and fall out onto the sand covered pavement below, the smoke pours out from behind to cover me like a blanket of fog. Staggering back up to my feet, I assess the damage, gripping the top of my head at the sight of what I had done. This looks like some scene from the “don’t drink and drive” commercials they occasionally play on the televisions in store windows; the light pole is slumped over the roof of the mangled car that’s now an unrecognizable mess.

  An accident like this would certainly kill any human who was unfortunate to be in the vehicle. I guess it’s a good thing we couldn’t die twice. Remembering where we were I spin around to see if anyone noticed us, but the street is empty, we are alone. It is a good thing that we are not near any residential buildings, and that it was still early morning. Another couple of kilometers and there would be curious onlookers to come over and see what was going on. It is almost dawn though, and people were bound to start waking up and driving down the once empty street, I had to get Victor out of here, and fast.

  Steadying my footing, I place my hand on the car and rush over to the driver side door. My body aches with a dull, relentless pain as I limp my way over to where Victor sits unmoving. Yanking on the misshapen handle I try to pull it open, but it’s no use, the door is far too twisted in the frame to pry it loose. If only Victor were well, he would be able to use his superhuman strength to open it, but it’s no use. Frustrated I slam my fist on the passenger window in anger and shatter it. This gives me an idea.

  Concentrating all my anger and frustration, I grab hold of the frame that once housed the glass, jagged bits of metal dig into the palms of my hands, stinging fiercely the tighter I hold on. With a rapid jerk on the door, the metal starts to give way. I keep pulling on the deformed door, and it finally breaks free from its frame. Victor’s body slumps over on the seat, almost falling from the car to the ground. Hanging by the seatbelt he looks up at me, his eyes are barely open, but he tries to mouth something to me regardless.

  His voice is too muffled, and I have no idea what he could be trying to tell me. Wasting no time, I release him from his seatbelt, pulling him out of the car onto the road. I help him stand up and slinging his arm over my neck to help support his weight. He collapses on top of me, his weight making my knees shake as I stabilize my footing. We are only a five-minute walk from the apartment, even with Victor barely walking we should make it there without being spotted.

  Digging my heels into the freshly paved road I pull him along, stumbling down the street together. Victor weighs heavily on me, making it difficult for me to keep balanced, and I am forced to grit my teeth through the pain in my legs. By the time we get on our street, he is barely able to move, yet somehow, we managed to make it to the shabby old door. Inside the run-down entryway, I switch Victor over to my other side so he can grip the railing to make it up the short flight of stairs leading to the first-floor apartments.

  Struggling to pull Victor up the last few steps I look over my shoulder and spot the stray cat. The little monster is lying curled up in an orange ball on our doorstep. As if sensing us there his head perks up with rumbling meow, he stares right at us, flicking his tail from side to side. The feline tilts his head, and then as if noticing that something was wrong he springs over to us, meowing loudly as he weaves between us. With a pained moan, Victor looks down, stretching his hand to the cat. It stops to sniff at Victor only to recoil in horror with a boisterous hiss.

  Puffed up to three times its size the tabby runs off, streaking past me, it wedges itself under the crack in the stairs leading up to the next floor. From the mouth of its makeshift cave, I can see two green eyes glowing from the dark hole. The cat lets out a low, deep growl letting me know it has no intentions of coming out. I wonder what could have got it so spooked, any other day it loved being around Victor, but something about his scent today had scared it away. Fixated on the cat, I forget I have Victor with me until he almost knocks me off balance. I need to get him inside, so, for now, I forget about the darn cat.

  With some expert navigation and a delicate balancing act, I manage to drag Victor into the apartment. Gathering the last drop of energy left, I stumble with him over to the mattress before my knees finally give out and I collapse onto the worn-out bedding with him on top of me. I can hear him mumbling an apology, as I gently roll him off me. Hoping to stay with him I lay my head upon his chest only to pull back in pain, something on his breast has singed my cheek.

  Flabbergasted by what happened I touch the spot where my face lay with two of m
y fingers, it’s blistering hot, I feel like I made contact with a hot iron. Victor has slipped away into unconsciousness, making it easier to unbutton his shirt and pull it open. There on his skin, the symbol on his chest is pulsing red and putting off heat. The thorns of the vines appear to have dug deeper into his flesh, and warm blood seeps out from where they have been painted on. Horrified, I pull the shirt shut and flop down next to him. Staring up at the cracks on the ceiling, I attempt to contemplate the phenomenon going on around me.

  It’s not just Victor who seems to be afflicted with some force beyond our sphere of knowledge; I too feel the effects of the darkness that befell Moscow. Ever since the car crash I have been in pain, it should have gone away by now, but it still feels like I have broken a few bones. The palms of my hands continue to tingle and throb. Raising them up to my face I see the gashes from grabbing the door still remain, through the gaps in my skin I can see blue sparks flickering inside of me.

  Feeling hopeless I start to cry. We should have never left Dedinovo to come here, and now I’m not sure we can get out. Why did I not stop Victor back at my house when I knew that what he planned to do was wrong? Once more I had failed at protecting him because I was too pathetic to voice my concern to him when I needed to. Now, because of me, poor Victor was going to die all over again. The ill fate has befallen us once more, the feeling of dread is overbearing and worse, I feel powerless to stop whatever it is that’s coming for us.

  Salty tears persist at rolling down my temples, and through my hair, as I repeatedly scold myself for being foolish enough to come here. Looking back on it, I should have known this was going to end this way; the freedom of the country, the choke-hold of the city, the signs were all there. It had been foolish of me to think we could fight whatever it was that stormed the city; I knew in the hospital storeroom that it was far too powerful for our world. We should have stayed in Dedinovo, we should have let the city fall, but now, we were going to fall right along with it.