by Eva Alton
When I arrived, after a two-hour ride, the gates were already locked, and I stood futilely in front of the timetable, half barefoot and with drenched clumps of hair sticking to my cheeks. Perhaps it hadn’t been too smart to just show up there without a plan. I still hadn’t received my first paycheck, and sacrificing part of my limited budget to pay for a hotel sounded sacrilegious.
Still, something inside my heart kept repeating that it was imperative for me to visit Julia’s resting place as soon as possible.
I strolled around the fence, wondering whether small town graveyards had video surveillance. Given the hideous weather, there was nobody around; still, jumping over a cemetery gate at night wasn’t exactly on my bucket list. If I were to be caught by the police, Mark was going to be ecstatic to have one more piece of evidence to use against me in court.
The gate was made of black wrought iron; I circled it warily and studied its intricate and wavy shapes. There had to be a way to get in there discreetly, leaving no traces. The lowest and most accessible point happened to be right next to a tree, and I took the happy coincidence as a go sign. Under the tree there was a wooden bench, and I stepped first on it, and then onto a branch. First, I passed one leg over the fence; then the other, until I found myself with both feet dangling in the air with nothing to prop myself onto on the other side. To make things worse, the lacy back of my dress got stuck among the spears that adorned the top of the metallic fence.
“Damn!” I muttered, struggling to detangle my clothes from the spears. In the meantime, my handbag slipped to the other side. It hit a black granite headstone shaped like a rose bouquet and its contents spilled all over the wet grass.
In a matter of seconds, I had become a human skewer dangling over a cemetery fence. Not only that, all my personal belongings were now spread on the ground below me.
So much for going in discreetly and leaving no traces.
This was getting worse by the moment.
I only needed the cops to show up and my evening would be complete.
My dress tore as I pulled at the airy fabric. At the same time, I lost my grasp on the ironwork bars and fell into the graveyard, right next to my handbag. My body hit the soft grassy ground with a brief thump, and I rolled on my back until I felt the cold surface of a tombstone on my skin. I remained there in a fetal position, holding my knees with my arms as I assessed the state of my bones.
Nothing broken.
Except my heart maybe, but what else could you expect from the only living person lying on a tombstone ten minutes before midnight.
Under the gushing rain, no less.
I didn’t hear the wings flapping, but the dusty white cloud was enough to get me out of my dark trance of self-pity.
“I had a feeling that I would find you here,” Francesca’s voice said. She was standing right next to me, wearing a black cloak. Her drenched hair peeped disorderly from beneath the hood, turned a dark honey shade as it had been wet by the rain.
“Francesca,” I said, crawling over the gravestone to reach her feet. She was carrying a small bouquet of peonies and looked just like Dracula’s bride.
“You really shouldn’t step on that,” she said with a wince, pointing at the names carved on the black stone:
Gabriel Reighton 1918-1944
Julia Reighton 1923-1981
“Julia’s tomb,” I muttered, and Francesca nodded.
I had found her.
Silently, I ducked my head and bowed to my predecessor.
“Why are you here?” I asked the beautiful vampire next to me.
“I like this place,” she said, smelling the peonies with her eyes closed. She really looked like she belonged there. “And I already told you―I came here to find you.”
“Why?” I stood up and tried to rearrange my dress, so that it would at least cover my bra.
“Because those wussy vampires are getting on my nerves, and there isn’t enough whiskey in Emberbury to muffle their whining.”
I let out a languid chuckle. “Is Elizabeth angry at me because I left so unexpectedly?”
Francesca lifted her face from the flowers, her eyes glimmering with incredulity. “Angry? She’s livid. And you have been banished from The Cloister forever, by the way.”
“Banished?” I blinked. “Like in... never come back again?”
“No, banished like in ‘send Clarence to wipe out all your memories or kill you if he can’t erase them.’”
My heart stopped, and I stared blankly at Francesca, unable to speak.
“I know,” she said, impassive, “I don’t think he will be able to, either. Your memories go too far into the past for him to erase them. It’s akin to a death sentence, in my opinion.”
“Oh my God.” I covered my mouth in horror.
Francesca shrugged, letting the hood fall over her back and revealing her exotic half-Slavic, half-Mediterranean features. “So, baby witch, what are you going to do?”
The rain had started to abate, and a puff of air sent a shiver down my soaked spine.
“I don’t know,” I said, trying not to sob. “Everything is falling apart around me. I don’t even know why I’m here.”
“You are here because you don’t want to give up. And because you didn’t really want to leave, did you? We need you, and you need us. Why in the world did you think sneaking out like that would be a good idea? Have people totally lost their manners in the 21st century?”
“No!” I held my forehead in my hands. “I mean, I don’t know. I was scared. And confused.”
“It was Clarence, wasn’t it?” Her face bore a clear ‘I told you’ look.
“I found out he abused Julia.” I sobbed, sitting next to Francesca on the wet grass. “I read it in her diary.”
“I strongly doubt that,” Francesca said, narrowing her eyes. “We are vampires, so you can imagine we all carry our fair share of crimes on our shoulders,” her tone was distant, haughty, “but certain things are off limits in The Cloister. I doubt he would ever lay a hand on Julia, let alone harm her. Particularly not Julia, given her past history.” She pointed at the wet grave with her chin. “Still, shouldn’t you discuss this with him instead of me? There must be a reason you care so much about that, particularly now that Julia is gone.”
Francesca kneeled over Julia’s resting place, and her cloak spread out wide behind her. She placed the flowers over the tombstone and muttered a prayer in Italian.
“What was she like?” I asked, tracing the names engraved on the stone with the tips of my fingers. A drop of water traveled down the narrow ridges of letter J, reminding me of a labyrinth game from my childhood.
“She was like you,” Francesca said with a wistful smile, which somehow softened her lofty expression.
“Like me?”
“Her eyes were like yours.”
“Do you mean they were a mixture of muddy brown and tadpole green?”
She ignored my self-deprecating joke and continued most earnestly, staring so deep into my eyes that I swayed back. “We vampires can’t look at ourselves in a mirror, but our reflections are clearly visible in a witch’s irises. Seeing them again makes us feel slightly more human.” Francesca definitely didn’t look very human that night, with her otherworldly paleness causing her to blend in perfectly with the statues of the graveyard. “Some of us relish that feeling, and others... well, not so much. But generally, ordinary witches aren’t exactly thrilled to let vampires get close enough to admire their pretty reflections in their irises.”
“I didn’t know that,” I conceded.
“No, of course you didn’t. And I’m certain Clarence finds that occurrence as fascinating as I do: seeing himself in a mirror must have felt like time travel to him.” She chuckled. “I know it’s like that for me. But a pretty picture is not enough to heal a broken soul, and until the unlikely day when he deals with all his past junk, he’s going to remain too volatile for his own good. And for yours.”
“Sorry, I’m not sure I’m fo
llowing.”
“No. That’s probably why Lillian saw you fleeing Clarence’s suite in tears,” Francesca drawled, arching an eyebrow. I suddenly hated all vampire females for some obscure reason.
“That must have been the same day she kindly informed me that you two used to be together,” I said warily. “Sorry to ask, but given your willingness to give me advice... aren’t you afraid of his... volatility?” I asked, turning my ache into bravery.
Francesca smiled. “Oh, I can take care of myself, trust me.” The rain had stopped, and the cemetery had become suddenly silent. She lowered her voice. “And anyway, not that I’m fussy, but men are usually not my first choice.”
I looked at the beautiful vampire in front of me and nodded in understanding, feeling relieved by her revelation. A gush of rainwater ran down the roof of a small mausoleum behind us, sounding like a watery sigh.
“Although,” she continued cautiously, waving her index finger in the air, “I see no reason to lie to you just to spare your feelings. Lillian was right in that Clarence and I have comforted each other on occasion throughout the decades. Fidelity and monogamy are not exactly a must in the vampire world, you know?” She batted her eyelashes mischievously. “And time drifts away very slowly when you have too much of it on your hands.”
“I see.” My shoulders sagged miserably, even though I had no right―or reason―to feel jealous.
“You read like an open book.” A half smile twisted Francesca’s crimson lips. “Humans can be such entertaining company, especially when you don’t feel the urge to eat them. I really don’t blame him for his infatuation with you.”
“Yes. I’m sure you find everything so hilarious.” I stood up and put my hands on my hips. I wasn’t very tall, but I could easily tower over tiny Francesca if I wanted to. “Is that why you came? To make fun of me, like Lillian? To mock the stupid human who got scared and ran away?”
“No. I came to help you,” she answered, unfazed. “There are not many stray witches left, and even fewer who would be willing to bury themselves in The Cloister and help Elizabeth keep her million-dollar businesses afloat. And I hate it when Elizabeth loses money. It makes her presence unbearable.”
“Okay, then,” I said. “If you came to help me, then do it. What should I do?”
“Well, let me see.” Francesca gazed at the sky, like searching for answers. “Elizabeth is mad at you. You have affronted her, abused her hospitality and run into the world with forbidden knowledge of our kind. Very, very bad.” She clicked her tongue. “But she is also oddly fond of Clarence, and―” she winced, “she respects his opinion, for some bizarre reason. He can persuade her to forgive you and take you back.”
“I’m not very comfortable with the idea of talking to someone whose mission is to erase my memories and/or kill me.”
“Find him before he finds you. Confront him outside, in broad daylight. Tomorrow morning, or as soon as you can. As ravens, we are weak, and any injuries take long to heal. I’m not telling you to harm him, of course, but that will give you an advantage over him. He won’t be able to use oblivion on you or stop you from running away if you need to.” She caressed my cheek motherly. "That’s what I would do; but then, I’m not too attached to life on this plane anymore.”
I nodded. “Okay. Do you know where he is?”
“He could be looking for you behind that tree or searching for new stray witches in New Zealand. He’s a scout, and that often makes him hard to locate. Sometimes he leaves, and we don’t see him for weeks. And he was a bit distressed after you left, so he might be seeking consolation in the arms and blood of a fair damsel... or gentleman.”
She laughed, but I didn’t.
“Please spare me the details,” I implored.
A flashlight flickered on the other side of the graveyard, and I remembered that all my belongings were still laying over the grass. I jumped on my knees and started to pick them up frantically, throwing everything hurriedly into my drenched bag as the sound of steps approached.
“I’m getting thirsty,” Francesca said, smacking her lips and wiping the grass off the rim of her cloak. “I’ll see you at The Cloister. Or maybe not.”
And then she disappeared into a cloud of dirty white smoke, leaving me soaked and alone by Julia’s tomb.
The flashlight was getting closer, and the broad figure of a hunched man became clearer against the dark background: it must be the graveyard’s custodian, going for a routine night round. I jumped behind Julia’s grave and watched him, hoping he wouldn’t notice me.
Panting sounds alerted me that the man wasn’t alone. To my dismay, he was accompanied by a dog. And not just a dog, but a monstrous, thumping German shepherd with a mouth the size of a picnic basket and the restlessness of a wolf in search of a victim to eat for dinner.
“Who’s there?” the man shouted. The dog huffed and sniffed the grass like crazy, darting in my direction. When the animal found Francesca’s bunch of peonies, it started to munch on them mercilessly, shredding the petals to bits and spreading them all over the tombstone. Meanwhile, the guard strolled around and flashed his light over Julia’s grave.
I remained still, holding my breath.
The man crouched and retrieved a fallen object from the ground―my wallet!
No, please, don’t take it.
“Wow, what do we have here?” He opened the main pocket, his eyes sparkling with greed as he noticed a wad of cash Elizabeth had given me to buy some books. “Such a nice surprise!”
A small raven, which could only be Francesca, shrieked in the sky, causing the man to turn his face upwards. The bird plunged and started to attack the dog with its beak, biting and poking until the animal let go of the peonies. Then, she picked up the remaining flowers with her claws and hovered menacingly over the man and his dog, pushing them away from Julia’s tomb.
“That one’s possessed by the devil for sure,” the custodian said, taking all the money in my wallet and recoiling swiftly to the place he had come from. “C’mon, Toby, let’s go back. It’s freaking creepy out here tonight.”
Chapter 30
Alba
Getting out of the enclosed graveyard was easier than I expected, even in a barefoot and partly naked state.
Checking the contents of my handbag, I skipped along the cemetery fence, hoping not to bump into any locals in that disheveled state. I had lost the bag with the evidence of Mark’s cheating, but there was no way I was jumping over that fence once again.
A few yards ahead, I saw two women leaning against the wall, and I swiftly crossed to the other side of the road to avoid meeting them face to face. But as soon as they noticed me changing sides, they did the same. Their appearance was outright disturbing, especially because they were carrying large wooden staffs with large crystals on top and golden snakes coiled around them. Judging by the looming sensation that pervaded me in their vicinity, they must be witches. The real kind, not like me.
I turned around, decided to flee, just to find two more people hard on my heels. They were coming from the opposite side.
“Excuse me, madam,” one of them said. A policeman. His voice was raspy and authoritarian. A few steps behind him, a policewoman followed with her right hand resting discreetly on the handle of a weapon.
Damn. They must have seen me jump over the fence of the graveyard, and my scruffy attire probably wasn’t working in my favor, either.
Terrified to be caught trespassing, I started to walk faster.
“Police! Stop!” the policeman shouted at me.
The idea of getting arrested, especially with Mark digging for evidence to use against me in court, was enough to turn my feet into wings. Being taken into custody wouldn’t end well for me: I needed to flee.
I took a turn into a row of houses and ran from the four people following me: the witches on the left; the police on the right.
“Stop immediately!” the policewoman yelled.
Before I had time to decide, she shot into the a
ir from afar. Perhaps she was just trying to startle me, but it worked. I fell on my knees and raised my hands in surrender.
“Please, I’m not dangerous,” I shouted in an unsteady voice, watching them approach.
“Handcuff her,” the policewoman said, and her male companion obliged. The cuffs were cold, and they pierced the skin of my bony wrists.
“Why did you run away, madam?” the man asked me as he threw me into the police car. “Do you know that’s considered arrest evasion?”
“There were two... women following me, and I got scared,” I said, pointing toward the cemetery gate.
“So you jumped over a cemetery gate to escape two ladies? Well, that’s a bit weird, isn’t it?” The policeman raised an eyebrow. “Can you describe the assailants? Because we didn’t see anyone but you. Did they try to attack you?”
I bit my lip. “They didn’t do anything to me. They were just leaning against that wall and were carrying large wooden staffs...”
“Staffs?” The policeman narrowed his eyes. “What kind of staffs?”
“Like the ones owned by wizards... with golden snakes and shining crystals on top...”
“She’ll need to take a drug test at the station, Wendy,” the man said, turning to his companion, and he closed the door of the police car with an irritated puff.
“THIS WAY,” THE POLICEWOMAN said, helping me through the glass doors of the police station with a gentle push.
This couldn’t be happening to me.
“Trespassing... resisting law enforcement...” The other policeman was talking to someone behind me, but his voice sounded like he was inside a tin can.
“Wait here,” someone else said.
People kept dragging me here and there, and I just obeyed submissively. I had never done anything illegal in my whole life, and I couldn’t have chosen a worse moment to get myself arrested.
“When can I go home?” I asked the policewoman, whose eyes seemed kind beyond her grave mask. She sat me on a bench and frowned.