by Lynn Viehl
From the squeal of the hinges I guessed it hadn’t been opened regularly in a long time, maybe years. Someone had packed it full of papers and books and newspapers, and I took one heavy volume out and trained my flashlight on the cracked spine. The embossed title was still readable, but the words were in Greek.
I opened the book, which had pages as thin as tissue paper, and saw they were also printed in Greek. The first illustration showed a man half-buried in a grave, and a group of other men surrounding him, their arms holding pointed sticks as if they meant to stab him.
I put the book aside and sifted through the other papers. Nothing was written in English but I recognized some of the languages as French, Spanish and German. Under a bundle of brittle, yellowed newspapers I found an old knife in a cracked leather sheath. I removed the blade, which had been engraved with dozens of tiny crosses. It was made of the same pewter metal as the trunk fittings.
Not pewter, I thought as I turned it over and saw AVH stamped at the base. Iron.
I set the knife and sheath aside and began unloading the trunk, separating everything I found into four piles: papers, books, sketches and weapons. There were seven knives, a short sword, a hammer with a spiked ball on the end, and what looked like an antique version of brass knuckles. All of the weapons I removed were made of iron and engraved with crosses or words in what I thought was Latin.
The only knives we owned were the ones we kept in the block holder in the kitchen, so the collection confused me. Why would Trick, who didn’t even own a penknife, be saving these antiques?
The books and sketches were even creepier than the weapons. I couldn’t read the books, but most of them were illustrated so I looked at the pictures. They all seemed to date back to medieval times, and showed horrible things: people being attacked by demonic-looking creatures; beautiful women being burned at the stake; the fallen bodies of men who had been beheaded by soldiers. The sketches were cruder version of the same type of nightmarish scenes.
Finally I found one slightly newer book written in what I thought might be Dutch that contained portraits of evil-looking men and women with pointed teeth and gouged-out eyes. On closer inspection I saw that the eyes in the portraits weren’t missing, but had been filled in with solid black ink. I didn’t understand what they were until I came to one man’s portrait, which showed some dark fluid stained his sharp teeth and streaming from the corners of his mouth.
They weren’t people. They were vampires.
Nineteen
I felt him slip into the barn before I heard him call my name. “Catlyn.”
I closed the vampire book and discovered the paralyzing dread that had made me so dizzy and sick had gone. Or maybe it was knowing that he was there, and why.
I went over to the side of the hayloft to look down at Jesse. “You shouldn’t have come.”
“You said no more spying.” He went over to the ladder, but instead of climbing it he jumped up and over it, landing on his feet in the hayloft. As soon as he looked at my face his smile faded. “What is it?”
I knew what he did was impossible, that things like this only happened in dreams. I also knew I was wide awake. “I found the trunk. I opened it.” I held out my hand. “Come and see.”
We went to the back of the hayloft, and he knelt down to look at the things I’d taken out and piled on the floor.
“These books are very old.” He picked up one I’d left open to an illustration of a vampire dropping down to attack a man on horseback. He looked around at the others and then reached down to close each one. When he picked up the book of portraits, he looked at the man with the bloody mouth for a long time before he closed that one, too.
“Jesse.” I sat down beside him as he put the book down. “Look at me. Please.”
He turned his head, and his eyes had turned an opal-sheened black, just as they had at the zoo. He closed them, and when his eyelids lifted they had shifted back to dark, glittering gray.
Only then did he take my hands in his. “Don’t be afraid.”
“I’m not.” This was Jesse, my friend, my dark boy, and I knew he would never hurt me. “But I do need to understand.”
“I don’t have a disease,” he admitted in a low voice. “I can’t eat food or go out in the sunlight because of what I am.”
“And you don’t live on island because your parents are snobs,” I guessed. He shook his head. “How long have you been like this, Jesse?”
“One hundred and thirty-six years.” He looked down at our hands. “I lied to you about the photograph you found. Someone took it of me when I was still human.”
I laced my fingers through his. “How did this happen to you?”
The story Jesse told me put together all the things that hadn’t made sense to me. He and his family were the last generation of the Ravenovs, whose circus had traveled through Europe during the end of the nineteenth century. They had performed for peasants and kings, in hamlets and at court, always riding their famous white horses.
At the end of each season they returned to their homeland in Romania, where they bred their horses, practiced their acts and rested up over the winter. It was on the final leg of one journey that their encampment was attacked in the middle of the night.
“The horses tried to warn us,” he said slowly. “They sensed the brigands approaching, but my uncle said they were only being fractious because of the long journey. The first vampire I saw ran into the camp and seized my youngest cousin, Marta. He plucked her right out of her mother’s arms. He moved so fast. When I blinked they were gone, and my aunt was screaming.”
He described how the Ravenov men, who were accustomed to the dangers of traveling, had fought back against the vampires. They quickly realized how unnaturally strong the monsters were, and that only by piercing their hearts or beheading them could they kill them, but by that time nearly all of the men in camp were mortally wounded or dead. His mother herded the women into the wagons and then came to fight alongside her husband and son.
“My parents and I fought hard, but there were too many of them,” he said. “The vampires surrounded us, and disarmed us, but they did not kill us. They admired us, their leader said, because we were fierce fighters. They wanted my parents and I to join them.”
“You refused, I hope,” I said.
He nodded. “The vampires dragged us out of the camp and took us to the caves where they lived. Their leader had his men hold us down while he took our blood, and made us take his.”
Hearing that made my stomach roll, but it wasn’t his fault. “Is that when you and your parents were changed?”
“Yes. When we woke, most of the vampires lay around us, sleeping. Everywhere we saw gold and jewels and other treasures that the vampires had stolen from their victims. Our movements roused their leader, but he only spoke to us as if we were his servants. He told us that to finish the change we would have to attack a mortal and drain their body of blood. He ordered us to return to the camp and kill all of the surviving women and children. He was so sure that we would obey him that he turned his back on us. That was when my father picked up a sword and beheaded him. Then my parents and I killed the rest of them where they lay.”
Jesse’s voice became strained as he described how it was for him and his parents when they returned to the camp to help the survivors. “They saw the paleness of our skin and the blackness of our eyes, and they were afraid. For us, the sight of their wounds and the scent of their blood were a torment, but my father said we could resist it. He was determined that we would not become like the monsters who had killed so many of our kin.”
I let out a breath. “So what did you do?”
“We bandaged the wounded and buried our dead, and then completed the journey to our horse farms in the mountains. We used some of the vampires’ treasures to help the members of our family who had survived.” He sighed. “By that time we knew we could live on the blood of animals, but we also knew our human lives were over. We left Romania and came to Ame
rica.”
Some of the circus performers came with them, Jesse told me, to help protect him and his parents during the daylight hours of their journey, when they had to take refuge in sealed stone coffins carried by covered wagons. After Jesse’s parents had bought what in that time had been remote, uninhabited swamp land in Florida, their human friends stayed to help them establish the first of many cattle ranches, and then built the town of Lost Lake for themselves and their families.
“We offered them enough gold to pay for their passage back to Romania, and assure that they would never want for anything, but our friends were very loyal and refused to abandon us,” Jesse admitted. “Some of their descendents still watch over us.”
“Like Sheriff Yamah?” I guessed, and he smiled. “Now I understand why he lets you come in his house and rummage through his fridge.” A thought occurred to me. “If you and your parents never completely changed, then you’re not really vampires.”
“We have not escaped the curse entirely,” he warned me. “We’re very strong and fast, and we don’t become sick or age. When we’re hurt, our injuries heal in a matter of hours instead of days or weeks. We share some of their vulnerabilities as well. Sunlight burns us, and garlic and iron are poisonous to us. We have never tried to end our lives, but beheading, piercing our hearts, or exposing our bodies to sunlight would probably kill us.”
I picked up one of the iron daggers. “These weapons were used to do that. To kill vampires.”
“I think they were.”
I didn’t want to think about why they were hidden in my barn, so I put the blade back in the trunk and focused on him. “This is why you don’t live in town, or go to school.”
“Being near human beings is dangerous for us and them,” he admitted. “After so many years people begin to see that we don’t age. We have never wanted to hurt anyone, but our instincts are very powerful. We can see in the dark, and hear the sound of a heartbeat from across a room. Our sense of smell is particularly keen. We can track the scent of blood for miles. Even a single drop can cause us to shift into our predatory state.” He gestured toward his face. “Our eyes turn black, and our fangs descend.”
I didn’t remember seeing fangs when he had tackled me at the zoo, but the solid-black eyes were burned indelibly in my memory. “You smelled my blood tonight, didn’t you?”
“The urge to attack is strongest when we are wounded, but fierce emotions can also trigger a shift. I saw you and the cheetah before I smelled the blood on your palms. I thought that she would spring before I could get to you.” He turned my hand and gazed down at the crescent marks.
“I’m not complaining,” I assured him. “You saved my life, Jesse. I can deal with the scary eyes.”
“It’s not that. It’s … ” He paused as if to find the right words. “My parents have always loved each other, Catlyn, but since we were changed they have shared a deeper bond. Wherever they are, they are always aware of each other, and happy only when they are together. They share their thoughts and feelings without speaking. The old stories say that vampires can forge such bonds, but only with others of their kind. Perhaps they were wrong.”
What he was saying finally registered, and I felt a little flustered. “Makes a girl almost wish she wasn’t human.” I began putting things back into the trunk.
“If your brother Patrick has been keeping these”—he gestured to the weapons—“then he knows vampires exist. Every book here was written about how to identify them, how to hunt them, and how to kill them.”
“This is just some old stuff Trick inherited from our parents,” I insisted. “It doesn’t belong to him. I doubt he could read any of these books.”
“Then why does he keep the trunk hidden?” He caught my wrist. “Catlyn, your brother used iron barbed wire for the fences, and hung clusters of garlic on the posts. He must know.”
“It could be a family superstition,” I said quickly. “My grandparents were Dutch; maybe it was something they did in the old country and Trick is just carrying on the tradition.”
“The traditional defense against vampires is to keep horses,” Jesse said. “They react violently whenever a vampire is near. If they can get loose, they will try to trample him.”
I frowned. “That can’t be right. You ride Prince all the time. And Sali likes you.”
“That is one part of the curse we have escaped,” he said. “Father believes that because we don’t feed on humans, we have a different scent; one that doesn’t aggravate the horses.”
“Wherever we’ve lived, we’ve always had them.” I picked up a book and held it between my hands. “I can’t believe it was only because my brother wanted a vampire alarm system.”
“What about your parents?” he asked. “You said this trunk might have belonged to them.”
“Now that I’ve seen what’s in it, I don’t think so,” I said. “My father was a horse trainer, and my mother was just a girl who ran away from home to be with him. After they married they lived here for a little while, and then they moved up to Wyoming.”
He touched the letters stamped into the trunk’s lock. “Whose initials are these? Your mother’s?”
“No. Her name was Rose Fanelsen.” I saw the way he stiffened. “What is it?”
“I know that name, Fanelsen. I heard my father and James mention it once when they were talking.” He gave me a worried look. “It was soon after you came here. The sheriff paid a visit to the island, and told my father about you and your brothers. He insisted that you were a threat. My father insisted we were safe on the island, and that you couldn’t do anything to hurt us.”
“Your father never saw the stuff in this trunk.” I felt him take his hands from mine. “Jesse, I didn’t mean that. We would never try to hurt you or your parents. We’re just normal people with one trunk of weird things in our barn.”
“If anyone is a threat, it’s me.” He stood up. “My parents told me tonight that they don’t want me to see you again. They were quite insistent.”
“As soon as we got home tonight, my brother told me that he’s selling the farm,” I said. “He plans to take us to California.”
He looked down at the open trunk. “Perhaps that would be best.”
“No. You would never hurt me, and I am not a threat to you. Jesse.” I scrambled up after him. “Please, listen to me.”
He jumped down to the barn floor, and without thinking I followed. My landing wasn’t as graceful as his, but I stayed on my feet and I didn’t break anything.
“Catlyn, what are you doing?” he demanded. “You could have broken your neck.”
“I don’t care.” I strode over to him and took him by the arms. “I’m not moving to California. You’re not going to spend the rest of your life alone on that island.”
“It’s for your sake, not mine.” He tried to set me aside, but I held on. “My parents know how dangerous I am to you. Catlyn, think. What if I’d lost control tonight? What if instead of kissing you, I tried to kill you?”
“Your eyes are black now, Jesse.” I touched his cheek. “I’m not bleeding. Do you want to hurt me?”
He closed his eyes.
“I am not afraid of you.” I knew I had to prove that, so I stood on my tiptoes, curled my arms around his neck, and pressed my lips against his.
This time I felt the sharp ends of his fangs against my lower lip as we kissed, but he didn’t bite me or even scratch me. I sank against him as his arms came up around me, and I felt tiny explosions under my skin, as if my body were erupting in hidden fireworks.
I never understood what glorious was, until that moment.
The feeling didn’t end when our lips parted. Jesse kissed the corners of my mouth, and the curve of my cheek, and one single tear that hadn’t yet fallen from my eyelashes.
“Catlyn.” He folded me against him so that my hot face pressed into his cool throat. “Are you sure about this?”
I drew back so I could look in his eyes. They were still black, and s
wirled with that dark rainbow sheen, but I saw nothing in them that frightened me.
“You’re the only thing in this world that I am sure of.” I drew my hands down from his shoulders. “There is more to this than what our families are telling us. We have to know why my brother has been hiding these things, and how the sheriff and your father knew my mother’s maiden name.” At his frown, I added, “Even if our parents met when mine lived here, my parents were married by the time they moved to the farm. My mother didn’t want my grandparents to find them, so she never used her maiden name.”
“I will see what I can find out,” Jesse promised.
I waited every night for Jesse to come back to the farm, but after a week had passed with no sign of him and no notes left for me in the barn I suspected his parents were keeping him on the island. That left it up to me to find out what connection there was between our parents.
Trick insisted we continue to prepare to move, and checked daily on our progress, but neither Gray nor I made any particular effort to hurry. Grayson said nothing, but I knew why he wanted to stay in Lost Lake. He was the school’s hero now, and the football team’s perfect record had made him all the friends he would ever need.
Although news of what had happened at the zoo as well as Tiffany Beck’s suspension was all around the school, from that day on I was treated as if I’d turned the cheetah loose. None of the kids looked at me or spoke to me; as far as they were concerned I was the invisible classmate. My teachers stopped calling on me during class, and only spoke to me when they absolutely had to. Even Barb avoided me and started sitting with other girls at lunch.
I had no proof, but I suspected Jesse’s parents had something to do with my outcast status. Nearly everyone in Lost Lake either worked for them, rented property from them or financially depended on them. Anyone the Ravens disliked had to be considered a threat to the entire community.