Friday, January 23, 2009
UPDATE!
New updates will be delayed until further notice due to school, car problems, and life in general.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Chapter 8: A Decision is Made
Reza waited at the crossroads for her mother to come for her. She sat on an old tree stump, her eyes were red from crying. They were dry now. She was patient, she was quiet, but most of all she was empty.
After waking in the woods the morning after her mother’s disappearance, she had run to the camp weeping like a child. Vasili, the camp leader, and Giorgi the Big were the first to spot her. They were heading into the forest, each man holding a rifle. Reza’s first thought was that men were heading into the forest to find her mother and herself, taking the guns with them for protection. They were talking and laughing together as if the world hadn’t just ended, walking at a leisurely pace. They took one look at Reza, saw the crusted blood and her tattered dress, saw the tears streaming down her face, and froze. Giorgi ran to her, hastily placing his rifle on the ground, and took her into his arms.
“What has happened?” he said as Reza sobbed into his broad shoulders. Giorgi was a huge man. Reza felt like a tiny doll in the arms of a giant. He gently wiped away a stray tear from her cheek with one large, callused finger. “Where is your mother?”
“It got her,” Reza said between sobs. “It was a true dream.”
Vasili had caught up to them but kept his distance. He had always been nervous around the child. He had seen with his own eyes what Reza was capable of when she was scared or angry. The entire camp had seen. Only Giorgi, blinded by love for Sasha, and the Nans would even consider touching the girl.
“What got her,” Giorgi asked with a desperate gleam in his eyes. “What beast did this? Tell me and I will track it down.”
“The beast in the tower.”
“The monster has broken the covenant,” asked Vasili. “Are you certain, child?”
Reza nodded. She told them what had occurred in the forest and the two men shared a look of shock and rage.
“I’ll tear that bastard apart with my own two hands!” cried Giorgi. He held Reza tight against his chest while growling curses under his breath.
“Do not despair, my friend,” Vasili said patting the large man on the shoulder. “We may still have time to save her.”
They headed back to the camp to tell the others.
**********************************************************************
They were Lovari Rom, horse traders. They went from town to town, village to village, buying and selling horses. The women told fortunes and sold potions and the like. The Gaje liked to say they were horse thieves and witches. The Lovari didn’t care what they said so long as they got paid and were left alone.
Their current settlement was located on the outskirts of Cearta near the crossroads. When they had first made camp here, the village elder had warned their leader Vasili that he and his people would not be welcomed. If they came any closer to Cearta, they would be run out. This was fine by them. The towns people were Gaje—outsiders—and therefore marime’—impure—and must be avoided whenever possible.
It felt like a kris, thought Reza as the people of the camp gathered together outside Vasili’s wagon. They yelled and screamed as they debated Sasha’s fate and the beast’s punishment for his crime. Most spoke of her as if her mother was already dead.
Certainly she would be marime’ if she was still alive, said Janos, and would have to live apart from the camp if she was returned, perhaps permanently. The woman wasn’t really one of them anyway. This caused much dispute from Giorgi who threatened to thrash him for even suggesting this.
They argued what to do with the monster. Some like Giorgi claimed he should be burned out of his tower during the day. This idea was rejected because no one was sure if the tower was the beast’s true day time resting place. If they were wrong they would lose the element of surprise. And the beast would not be pleased. No one wanted to spend the rest of their lives looking over their shoulder every night.
In the end, it was decided a group of men would be sent to the tower to demand her mother’s return. They would leave the beast to his own devices if Sasha was untouched and alive. If it was too late and Sasha was dead or it refused to turn her over to them, they would storm the tower with torches, stakes, and spells. It was risky. His kind were most powerful when darkness fell, but he had broken their covenant and that could not be ignored. And he probably would turn her over anyway, Vasili postulated. The beast may have his pride, but he was practical. He would try to negotiate with them, perhaps demand something in return, and they would do their best to accommodate him, but the woman must be returned.
They went off—Giorgi and Vasili leading the pack—knowing they would return with what they came for. Only Reza and the Nans knew the ones that came back would return empty handed.
After waking in the woods the morning after her mother’s disappearance, she had run to the camp weeping like a child. Vasili, the camp leader, and Giorgi the Big were the first to spot her. They were heading into the forest, each man holding a rifle. Reza’s first thought was that men were heading into the forest to find her mother and herself, taking the guns with them for protection. They were talking and laughing together as if the world hadn’t just ended, walking at a leisurely pace. They took one look at Reza, saw the crusted blood and her tattered dress, saw the tears streaming down her face, and froze. Giorgi ran to her, hastily placing his rifle on the ground, and took her into his arms.
“What has happened?” he said as Reza sobbed into his broad shoulders. Giorgi was a huge man. Reza felt like a tiny doll in the arms of a giant. He gently wiped away a stray tear from her cheek with one large, callused finger. “Where is your mother?”
“It got her,” Reza said between sobs. “It was a true dream.”
Vasili had caught up to them but kept his distance. He had always been nervous around the child. He had seen with his own eyes what Reza was capable of when she was scared or angry. The entire camp had seen. Only Giorgi, blinded by love for Sasha, and the Nans would even consider touching the girl.
“What got her,” Giorgi asked with a desperate gleam in his eyes. “What beast did this? Tell me and I will track it down.”
“The beast in the tower.”
“The monster has broken the covenant,” asked Vasili. “Are you certain, child?”
Reza nodded. She told them what had occurred in the forest and the two men shared a look of shock and rage.
“I’ll tear that bastard apart with my own two hands!” cried Giorgi. He held Reza tight against his chest while growling curses under his breath.
“Do not despair, my friend,” Vasili said patting the large man on the shoulder. “We may still have time to save her.”
They headed back to the camp to tell the others.
**********************************************************************
They were Lovari Rom, horse traders. They went from town to town, village to village, buying and selling horses. The women told fortunes and sold potions and the like. The Gaje liked to say they were horse thieves and witches. The Lovari didn’t care what they said so long as they got paid and were left alone.
Their current settlement was located on the outskirts of Cearta near the crossroads. When they had first made camp here, the village elder had warned their leader Vasili that he and his people would not be welcomed. If they came any closer to Cearta, they would be run out. This was fine by them. The towns people were Gaje—outsiders—and therefore marime’—impure—and must be avoided whenever possible.
It felt like a kris, thought Reza as the people of the camp gathered together outside Vasili’s wagon. They yelled and screamed as they debated Sasha’s fate and the beast’s punishment for his crime. Most spoke of her as if her mother was already dead.
Certainly she would be marime’ if she was still alive, said Janos, and would have to live apart from the camp if she was returned, perhaps permanently. The woman wasn’t really one of them anyway. This caused much dispute from Giorgi who threatened to thrash him for even suggesting this.
They argued what to do with the monster. Some like Giorgi claimed he should be burned out of his tower during the day. This idea was rejected because no one was sure if the tower was the beast’s true day time resting place. If they were wrong they would lose the element of surprise. And the beast would not be pleased. No one wanted to spend the rest of their lives looking over their shoulder every night.
In the end, it was decided a group of men would be sent to the tower to demand her mother’s return. They would leave the beast to his own devices if Sasha was untouched and alive. If it was too late and Sasha was dead or it refused to turn her over to them, they would storm the tower with torches, stakes, and spells. It was risky. His kind were most powerful when darkness fell, but he had broken their covenant and that could not be ignored. And he probably would turn her over anyway, Vasili postulated. The beast may have his pride, but he was practical. He would try to negotiate with them, perhaps demand something in return, and they would do their best to accommodate him, but the woman must be returned.
They went off—Giorgi and Vasili leading the pack—knowing they would return with what they came for. Only Reza and the Nans knew the ones that came back would return empty handed.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Chapter 7: Promises Kept, Promises Yet to Keep
Merick heard their screams just as day was breaking. Miles away and safe within the strong stone walls of his ancestral tower, he heard them as if he were standing next to them. He felt their agony and then felt nothing. After that he could not sense them at all. He called to them, but there was no answer. They were gone.
The girl had run to the camp to get help. This must be so. His pets were simple minded and weak but no child had the strength to hunt down two of his kind no matter how clever she could be. Merick had hoped his pets would have killed the child. He would have returned to find the body, perhaps set his wolves to feast on the remains. Her people would have thought it an animal attack. They would have searched for the mother and found nothing. The brat had spoiled his plans.
The filthy gypsies had killed his pets. His rage was too great to contain. It spilled out of him in howls of anger as he beat his fists into the cold stone walls. The thick blocks cracked with each blow. He heard the woman whimpering softly behind him.
She cowered in the corner of the dark windowless cell. The woman’s wrists and ankles were chained to the floor, the sturdy metal chains clanked and rattled as she trembled. He could smell the blood drying at the nape of her neck and smiled. He would have another pet soon. Two more nights and she would be his.
Unless her people interfered.
Merick’s smile faltered as he considered the situation the mother and child had put him in. The gypsies would come, of that he was certain. If the child was indeed safe, they would come to plead for the life of the mother. They were knowledgeable enough to know she could not be transformed in one night. If he handed the woman over unchanged, they would leave him in peace. The Rom might know all the ways to kill a vampire, but they also knew all the ways he could kill them. There were only a handful in the area. They would do what they had to do to avoid conflict.
They have killed my pets. The thought ran circles around his mind. The woman and her child would live, but his pets would never return to him. He turned to the shivering creature in the corner wishing he could beat her pretty face into the wall, wishing he could find her brat of a child and force her to watch.
Tears trickled down the woman’s cheeks and her lower lip trembled. It pleased Merick to see her frightened. If he could not punish the child, he would punish the mother in her place. The gypsies owed him that much.
“Please,” she said, “Let me go home, sir.”
It wasn’t the first time she had begged. When he found her in her hiding place, she begged him not to kill her.
“Come with me quietly and I won’t kill you here,” he had promised. She did as she was told.
She begged him to call off the others. “Hannah and the other one,” she called them, to leave her daughter alone. He promised the girl would be taken care of and he meant to keep that promise.
Now she wanted to go home and soon her people would come to retrieve her. He smiled.
“Do you truly wish to return to your camp?”
The woman nodded. He went to her and knelt beside her. She flinched as she sensed his body close to her. Merick gently caressed her cheek and whispered into her ear.
“Do you truly wish to be reunited with your daughter?”
“More than anything.” The woman shook her head emphatically. “I want my Reza!”
“Then you shall have her.”
Merick kissed her quivering lips. The woman cringed and shrank into the cold stones.
“When?”
His lips traced a line down her cheek, down the apex of her neck where the blood crusted from the previous night’s feeding. He licked the wound wet and felt the juicy vein beneath the flesh pound faster with her fear. He enjoyed the coppery flavor as she sat still as frightened hare.
“When?”
“As soon as you are ready, my pet,” he replied grabbing her with enough force to make her yelp in pain. “Haven’t I kept all my promises?”
The girl had run to the camp to get help. This must be so. His pets were simple minded and weak but no child had the strength to hunt down two of his kind no matter how clever she could be. Merick had hoped his pets would have killed the child. He would have returned to find the body, perhaps set his wolves to feast on the remains. Her people would have thought it an animal attack. They would have searched for the mother and found nothing. The brat had spoiled his plans.
The filthy gypsies had killed his pets. His rage was too great to contain. It spilled out of him in howls of anger as he beat his fists into the cold stone walls. The thick blocks cracked with each blow. He heard the woman whimpering softly behind him.
She cowered in the corner of the dark windowless cell. The woman’s wrists and ankles were chained to the floor, the sturdy metal chains clanked and rattled as she trembled. He could smell the blood drying at the nape of her neck and smiled. He would have another pet soon. Two more nights and she would be his.
Unless her people interfered.
Merick’s smile faltered as he considered the situation the mother and child had put him in. The gypsies would come, of that he was certain. If the child was indeed safe, they would come to plead for the life of the mother. They were knowledgeable enough to know she could not be transformed in one night. If he handed the woman over unchanged, they would leave him in peace. The Rom might know all the ways to kill a vampire, but they also knew all the ways he could kill them. There were only a handful in the area. They would do what they had to do to avoid conflict.
They have killed my pets. The thought ran circles around his mind. The woman and her child would live, but his pets would never return to him. He turned to the shivering creature in the corner wishing he could beat her pretty face into the wall, wishing he could find her brat of a child and force her to watch.
Tears trickled down the woman’s cheeks and her lower lip trembled. It pleased Merick to see her frightened. If he could not punish the child, he would punish the mother in her place. The gypsies owed him that much.
“Please,” she said, “Let me go home, sir.”
It wasn’t the first time she had begged. When he found her in her hiding place, she begged him not to kill her.
“Come with me quietly and I won’t kill you here,” he had promised. She did as she was told.
She begged him to call off the others. “Hannah and the other one,” she called them, to leave her daughter alone. He promised the girl would be taken care of and he meant to keep that promise.
Now she wanted to go home and soon her people would come to retrieve her. He smiled.
“Do you truly wish to return to your camp?”
The woman nodded. He went to her and knelt beside her. She flinched as she sensed his body close to her. Merick gently caressed her cheek and whispered into her ear.
“Do you truly wish to be reunited with your daughter?”
“More than anything.” The woman shook her head emphatically. “I want my Reza!”
“Then you shall have her.”
Merick kissed her quivering lips. The woman cringed and shrank into the cold stones.
“When?”
His lips traced a line down her cheek, down the apex of her neck where the blood crusted from the previous night’s feeding. He licked the wound wet and felt the juicy vein beneath the flesh pound faster with her fear. He enjoyed the coppery flavor as she sat still as frightened hare.
“When?”
“As soon as you are ready, my pet,” he replied grabbing her with enough force to make her yelp in pain. “Haven’t I kept all my promises?”
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Chapter 6: The Doll Dream
Daylight crept between the branches high above as Reza lay upon the wet forest floor, exhausted from her run. Blood from the gash in her forehead dried in red crusted clumps as sleep overtook her.
She dreamed of two falling stars that turned to ash before they hit the earth. She dreamed of a doll, a marionette with strings and the boy who pulled them to make her dance and walk and do tricks. In the dream, her master was a mischievous prince who couldn’t be taught or scolded. He enjoyed his games. She dreamed such things that made her blood boil with rage.
Why didn’t I curse him first?
She dreamed of the wicked prince and how he screamed in fury as the stars turned to dust. She dreamed of the little marionette doll walking the long journey to Reza’s camp, her strings being pulled the entire way by her master’s talented fingers. She saw a monster wearing a mask of her mother’s face and knew the woman was lost to her. She saw the dead flesh beneath the mask, how it flaked away as fire devoured it. Saw how the ash was carried away in the breeze and floated through the sky choking everyone who breathed it in.
And then she came upon two gates and knew one would make her a number while the other would make her the acrid air. She cried because she knew she wouldn’t be allowed to choose, so she made the only choice she could and held out a hand full of white lines and made that last cut.
This is my death dream, she thought as the dream blade bit into her skin. This is how I die. But not today and not by him.
As the story of her end unfolded, another part of her mind wondered to the monster and the beautiful marionette he would help destroy. In her fretful sleep, Reza’s left hand twitched with anticipation.
She dreamed of two falling stars that turned to ash before they hit the earth. She dreamed of a doll, a marionette with strings and the boy who pulled them to make her dance and walk and do tricks. In the dream, her master was a mischievous prince who couldn’t be taught or scolded. He enjoyed his games. She dreamed such things that made her blood boil with rage.
Why didn’t I curse him first?
She dreamed of the wicked prince and how he screamed in fury as the stars turned to dust. She dreamed of the little marionette doll walking the long journey to Reza’s camp, her strings being pulled the entire way by her master’s talented fingers. She saw a monster wearing a mask of her mother’s face and knew the woman was lost to her. She saw the dead flesh beneath the mask, how it flaked away as fire devoured it. Saw how the ash was carried away in the breeze and floated through the sky choking everyone who breathed it in.
And then she came upon two gates and knew one would make her a number while the other would make her the acrid air. She cried because she knew she wouldn’t be allowed to choose, so she made the only choice she could and held out a hand full of white lines and made that last cut.
This is my death dream, she thought as the dream blade bit into her skin. This is how I die. But not today and not by him.
As the story of her end unfolded, another part of her mind wondered to the monster and the beautiful marionette he would help destroy. In her fretful sleep, Reza’s left hand twitched with anticipation.
Monday, December 22, 2008
Chapter 5: Blessings With the Right Hand, Curses With the Left
Blessings with the right hand, curses with the left. Blood must be shed to enact either and there must always be a strong intent. The recipient could receive one blessing and one curse each, no more. These were the rules of her gift. No one had taught Reza these things. She had to learn on her own.
She thought of this as she ran back to the spot she had left her mother. Blessings with the right hand, curses with the left, and she only had two hands. She ran. Her legs ached from the strain and her lungs were on fire but she ran faster and faster all the while thinking, three against two. Three against one if one considered her mother would only get in the way.
I could have taken one or two, no more than that, she rationalized. Even if I had done that much, the last would be on us in seconds and we would both be dead or worse. I did what I had to do.
She ran faster. Her heart beat against her breast bone so hard she thought it would escape from her chest, but she kept running. Faster and faster and her thoughts kept pace with her legs.
I should have cursed him first, she thought unable to out run her thoughts. He was their master. Would the others have perished with him or would they have lived long enough to attack in their rage? She couldn’t be sure. Had she thought of this before she ran? She couldn’t remember.
Why did I leave her behind?
Reza ran, her legs pumping, her heart racing, her lungs set to burst. She ran but she couldn’t run away from the thoughts that followed her. She was only twelve, no longer a child but barely a woman. And it wasn’t fair. Why was it always left to her to make these important decisions? Why was it always her to lead and protect and to take care? It was the old regret coming to slow her down, she knew.
She commanded herself not to think. She ran. She ran so fast that she tripped over a broken branch of a fallen birch and hit her forehead on a smooth rock in the earth as she landed face down. There was a sharp pain and she fought to remain conscious as blood trickled from a gash in her head and stung her right eye.
Reza caught her breath. She listened. The gurgling brook was nearby. She saw the rotted log a few feet away where a pile of leaves had been disturbed.
Perhaps mother had run off to find a better hiding spot. Perhaps she was lost in the woods and searching for her daughter. The woman had the patience of a child and never could stay still for long. She was lost in the woods looking for her Reza while the monster ran after his pets. She would be safe.
As hard as Reza tried to believe in this pretty lie, she couldn’t help but remember her true dream and think of the dancing marionette with the face of her mother and the monster that pulled its strings.
**********************************************************************
Since the moment they were turned, Hannah and Magda had known no peace. They felt a hunger that could never be satiated and they longed to please the man they called master. If he demanded silence, they became mute. If it was his wish for something to be done, it was their desire to see this wish come to fruition.
The girl had escaped. The master had commanded them to kill her and they had failed. He would not be pleased.
They searched the surrounding woods for her but there were no traces of her. The early morning dew had taken her scent and the sun would rise soon. They turned their heads up to look at the patches of sky hiding between the trees. It was still dark but the stars had died away and they could sense the rushing morning light even without seeing it. Its coming usually made them fearful.
The two frowned as one.
“Do you remember?” asked Hannah.
“The light?” asked Magda.
Hannah nodded. “Since the master came, I have been so frightened of the light.”
Neither woman turned to look at the other, so enthralled were they both.
“The light burns,” said Magda.
“Yes,” replied Hannah.
Somewhere beyond the trees the sun was rising. An unfamiliar longing came upon her. It came upon her with such a force it hurt her not to think about it. It hurt worse than the first hunger she felt when woke from death. It hurt worse than being away from the master.
Hannah reluctantly turned her face from the sky to glance at her companion. Magda did the same.
“We should go back,” said Magda.
Hannah nodded. Neither woman moved.
They looked up. Without relaying her intentions to her companion, Hannah began to clime the nearest pine to get a better look. Magda followed. They did this sometimes, climbed up high to search for prey or to spy on the mortals of the nearby towns. The sun had perched itself just over the tree lined horizon. Their skin sizzled the higher they climbed bursting into flames just as they made it to the top of the pine, burning needles and branches along with them.
Ash from their bodies mixed with the ash from the burning pine and floated down to the forest floor like grey snow. The women who were once Hannah and Magda hungered no longer, finally a peace.
She thought of this as she ran back to the spot she had left her mother. Blessings with the right hand, curses with the left, and she only had two hands. She ran. Her legs ached from the strain and her lungs were on fire but she ran faster and faster all the while thinking, three against two. Three against one if one considered her mother would only get in the way.
I could have taken one or two, no more than that, she rationalized. Even if I had done that much, the last would be on us in seconds and we would both be dead or worse. I did what I had to do.
She ran faster. Her heart beat against her breast bone so hard she thought it would escape from her chest, but she kept running. Faster and faster and her thoughts kept pace with her legs.
I should have cursed him first, she thought unable to out run her thoughts. He was their master. Would the others have perished with him or would they have lived long enough to attack in their rage? She couldn’t be sure. Had she thought of this before she ran? She couldn’t remember.
Why did I leave her behind?
Reza ran, her legs pumping, her heart racing, her lungs set to burst. She ran but she couldn’t run away from the thoughts that followed her. She was only twelve, no longer a child but barely a woman. And it wasn’t fair. Why was it always left to her to make these important decisions? Why was it always her to lead and protect and to take care? It was the old regret coming to slow her down, she knew.
She commanded herself not to think. She ran. She ran so fast that she tripped over a broken branch of a fallen birch and hit her forehead on a smooth rock in the earth as she landed face down. There was a sharp pain and she fought to remain conscious as blood trickled from a gash in her head and stung her right eye.
Reza caught her breath. She listened. The gurgling brook was nearby. She saw the rotted log a few feet away where a pile of leaves had been disturbed.
Perhaps mother had run off to find a better hiding spot. Perhaps she was lost in the woods and searching for her daughter. The woman had the patience of a child and never could stay still for long. She was lost in the woods looking for her Reza while the monster ran after his pets. She would be safe.
As hard as Reza tried to believe in this pretty lie, she couldn’t help but remember her true dream and think of the dancing marionette with the face of her mother and the monster that pulled its strings.
**********************************************************************
Since the moment they were turned, Hannah and Magda had known no peace. They felt a hunger that could never be satiated and they longed to please the man they called master. If he demanded silence, they became mute. If it was his wish for something to be done, it was their desire to see this wish come to fruition.
The girl had escaped. The master had commanded them to kill her and they had failed. He would not be pleased.
They searched the surrounding woods for her but there were no traces of her. The early morning dew had taken her scent and the sun would rise soon. They turned their heads up to look at the patches of sky hiding between the trees. It was still dark but the stars had died away and they could sense the rushing morning light even without seeing it. Its coming usually made them fearful.
The two frowned as one.
“Do you remember?” asked Hannah.
“The light?” asked Magda.
Hannah nodded. “Since the master came, I have been so frightened of the light.”
Neither woman turned to look at the other, so enthralled were they both.
“The light burns,” said Magda.
“Yes,” replied Hannah.
Somewhere beyond the trees the sun was rising. An unfamiliar longing came upon her. It came upon her with such a force it hurt her not to think about it. It hurt worse than the first hunger she felt when woke from death. It hurt worse than being away from the master.
Hannah reluctantly turned her face from the sky to glance at her companion. Magda did the same.
“We should go back,” said Magda.
Hannah nodded. Neither woman moved.
They looked up. Without relaying her intentions to her companion, Hannah began to clime the nearest pine to get a better look. Magda followed. They did this sometimes, climbed up high to search for prey or to spy on the mortals of the nearby towns. The sun had perched itself just over the tree lined horizon. Their skin sizzled the higher they climbed bursting into flames just as they made it to the top of the pine, burning needles and branches along with them.
Ash from their bodies mixed with the ash from the burning pine and floated down to the forest floor like grey snow. The women who were once Hannah and Magda hungered no longer, finally a peace.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Chapter 4: Hannah and Magda's Curse
Sorry about the long wait. It's been a busy year. Here's the next update:
Chapter Four:
They were beautiful if you didn’t know what they were. Reza supposed this was why the vampire chose them. One had hair as dark as a raven’s wing and eyes greener than the forest leaves come spring time. And Reza remembered her.
Her name had been Magda. She once had the kindest eyes Reza had ever seen. She had lived in the town with her father selling hot pies and cakes. Once, Magda had been kind enough to give Reza a latke when she was five. It was the best potato pancake she had ever tasted. Reza had said as much causing Magda to blush with pride.
Now she is pale and thin and her eyes are no longer kind.
Petar the blacksmith had been desperately in love with her. It was said by the other towns people that he had been planning to ask her father for permission to marry the girl just before Magda disappeared.
There had been rumors that she had run off with some man from the city, but the Nans had never believed it. Neither had Petar. He had begged the people in the town to search the woods for her, to go to the nearby castle and demand her back. They told him he was a fool to even say such a thing. Even Magda’s father had given her up for dead.
Petar went to the woods to retrieve his love, stopping at their camp to speak with Old Nan. He had begged for any talismans or trinkets she could offer that would aid him. Old Nan did what she could but warned him he would not be successful in his quest. He would be too late. He would be killed. But Petar had the light of vengeance in his eyes and it burned through to his very soul. He left with Old Nan’s gifts and made his way to the monster’s lair.
He never came back.
The other girl—Hannah, her mother called her—hissed at Reza. This one was even paler than Magda, her complexion before death naturally light and her eyes as grey as an overcast sky.
She had once looked after her mother when she was just a child. Reza had never met her in life but her mother had told her about the woman after she caught Reza jumping in the lake. Mother was terrified of the water because her friend had drowned in it—at least, that’s what everyone had said. She would scream if Reza so much as put a toe in the water fearing her daughter would suffer the same fate.
“But mother,” she had tried to explain. “Water can not kill me. You know that.”
No amount of reasoning would make her mother understand.
“Such a little thing,” Magda crooned.
“Not enough for a meal,” Hannah said forlornly.
“Perhaps the master will allow us to feed on the other if we are good.”
The two exchanged empty glances, nodded, and turned those dead hungry eyes onto Reza. They inched closer. Reza raised her left hand.
They froze, mesmerized by the dripping blood from her palm. Hannah licked her lips.
“Is this what you want you evil bitches?” Reza called to them.
Magda was the first to pounce. Teeth bared, clawing hands came at Reza faster than she could see, but she didn’t back away. She didn’t run. Her palm struck the dead girl in the face, sending her reeling.
Hannah was close on Magda’s heels and Reza almost missed when she slammed her bleeding palm into the girl’s exposed chest. She tumbled to the ground landing next to Magda. They were both marked with her blood.
“I curse you Magda,” Reza said staring into the dead thing’s eyes. She turned to the other. “I curse you Hannah. I curse you both.”
There was pity in her voice. She told herself that she was releasing these creatures from pain, sending them to their final rest as she recited the stipulations of the curse she would place upon them.
Chapter Four:
They were beautiful if you didn’t know what they were. Reza supposed this was why the vampire chose them. One had hair as dark as a raven’s wing and eyes greener than the forest leaves come spring time. And Reza remembered her.
Her name had been Magda. She once had the kindest eyes Reza had ever seen. She had lived in the town with her father selling hot pies and cakes. Once, Magda had been kind enough to give Reza a latke when she was five. It was the best potato pancake she had ever tasted. Reza had said as much causing Magda to blush with pride.
Now she is pale and thin and her eyes are no longer kind.
Petar the blacksmith had been desperately in love with her. It was said by the other towns people that he had been planning to ask her father for permission to marry the girl just before Magda disappeared.
There had been rumors that she had run off with some man from the city, but the Nans had never believed it. Neither had Petar. He had begged the people in the town to search the woods for her, to go to the nearby castle and demand her back. They told him he was a fool to even say such a thing. Even Magda’s father had given her up for dead.
Petar went to the woods to retrieve his love, stopping at their camp to speak with Old Nan. He had begged for any talismans or trinkets she could offer that would aid him. Old Nan did what she could but warned him he would not be successful in his quest. He would be too late. He would be killed. But Petar had the light of vengeance in his eyes and it burned through to his very soul. He left with Old Nan’s gifts and made his way to the monster’s lair.
He never came back.
The other girl—Hannah, her mother called her—hissed at Reza. This one was even paler than Magda, her complexion before death naturally light and her eyes as grey as an overcast sky.
She had once looked after her mother when she was just a child. Reza had never met her in life but her mother had told her about the woman after she caught Reza jumping in the lake. Mother was terrified of the water because her friend had drowned in it—at least, that’s what everyone had said. She would scream if Reza so much as put a toe in the water fearing her daughter would suffer the same fate.
“But mother,” she had tried to explain. “Water can not kill me. You know that.”
No amount of reasoning would make her mother understand.
“Such a little thing,” Magda crooned.
“Not enough for a meal,” Hannah said forlornly.
“Perhaps the master will allow us to feed on the other if we are good.”
The two exchanged empty glances, nodded, and turned those dead hungry eyes onto Reza. They inched closer. Reza raised her left hand.
They froze, mesmerized by the dripping blood from her palm. Hannah licked her lips.
“Is this what you want you evil bitches?” Reza called to them.
Magda was the first to pounce. Teeth bared, clawing hands came at Reza faster than she could see, but she didn’t back away. She didn’t run. Her palm struck the dead girl in the face, sending her reeling.
Hannah was close on Magda’s heels and Reza almost missed when she slammed her bleeding palm into the girl’s exposed chest. She tumbled to the ground landing next to Magda. They were both marked with her blood.
“I curse you Magda,” Reza said staring into the dead thing’s eyes. She turned to the other. “I curse you Hannah. I curse you both.”
There was pity in her voice. She told herself that she was releasing these creatures from pain, sending them to their final rest as she recited the stipulations of the curse she would place upon them.
Friday, June 6, 2008
Chapter 3: Hide and Seek
The vampire did not rush. He never rushed. He liked to let his prey think it had a chance. It amused him to dangle the hope of freedom in front of them only to watch their hopes crumble as that same hope was snatched away. It was all apart of the game. Without the game the hunt would be no fun at all.
Merick often wondered why mortals clung onto such silly ideals as long life. Why would anyone want to live to be old? Nothing but pain and loss of dignity awaited those that held on until the end. Their priests told them eternity and a better life awaited those who remained pure in this world, and they foolishly believed without as much as a stitch of proof. Merick was walking proof that one need not waste ones life whispering dull prayers. Eternity was just a kiss away and though there was a price—as there always is in these cases—it was not near as heavy as the dark clothed brethren claimed it to be.
Reaching out with his senses, Merick made his way through the trees. His pets had caught up with the girl. They would make a meal of her, slight though she may be. The woman wasn’t with her. His brow wrinkled in confusion and he paused long enough to listen to the sounds of the creatures of the forest. An Owl hooted. A small four footed creature, a fox perhaps, chased something smaller through the brush. Insects buzzed. All these sounds were muffled by the gurgling waters of the brook.
His eyes scanned the bank on the other side. Did the girl believe the old superstitions? If she was indeed brought up by the Rom as she said, then she wouldn’t be that stupid. The mother perhaps, but not the child. The water was too cold and too shallow. Where else was there to hide? Merick made himself still, as still as a lifeless statue and listened.
A rustling of leaves, a muffled whimper, and a frightful beating heart put a smile on his lips.
“Clever little fox,” he whispered, regretting his hasty decision to give the girl to his pets. The child had thought of this, he was sure. It would have been amusing to keep her until she was ripe for plucking. He had never kept any of his trophies in the tower longer than a fortnight, not alive.
Barely audible over the babbling waters of the brook were the sounds of an awkward body rustling damp leaves as it tried to get into a more comfortable position, trying not to breathe too loud. Trying not to be found.
But I always find them in the end, he thought. And turning his attention to a wriggling mound of leaves, he smiled.
Merick often wondered why mortals clung onto such silly ideals as long life. Why would anyone want to live to be old? Nothing but pain and loss of dignity awaited those that held on until the end. Their priests told them eternity and a better life awaited those who remained pure in this world, and they foolishly believed without as much as a stitch of proof. Merick was walking proof that one need not waste ones life whispering dull prayers. Eternity was just a kiss away and though there was a price—as there always is in these cases—it was not near as heavy as the dark clothed brethren claimed it to be.
Reaching out with his senses, Merick made his way through the trees. His pets had caught up with the girl. They would make a meal of her, slight though she may be. The woman wasn’t with her. His brow wrinkled in confusion and he paused long enough to listen to the sounds of the creatures of the forest. An Owl hooted. A small four footed creature, a fox perhaps, chased something smaller through the brush. Insects buzzed. All these sounds were muffled by the gurgling waters of the brook.
His eyes scanned the bank on the other side. Did the girl believe the old superstitions? If she was indeed brought up by the Rom as she said, then she wouldn’t be that stupid. The mother perhaps, but not the child. The water was too cold and too shallow. Where else was there to hide? Merick made himself still, as still as a lifeless statue and listened.
A rustling of leaves, a muffled whimper, and a frightful beating heart put a smile on his lips.
“Clever little fox,” he whispered, regretting his hasty decision to give the girl to his pets. The child had thought of this, he was sure. It would have been amusing to keep her until she was ripe for plucking. He had never kept any of his trophies in the tower longer than a fortnight, not alive.
Barely audible over the babbling waters of the brook were the sounds of an awkward body rustling damp leaves as it tried to get into a more comfortable position, trying not to breathe too loud. Trying not to be found.
But I always find them in the end, he thought. And turning his attention to a wriggling mound of leaves, he smiled.
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