Vampires Don't Cry: A Mother's Curse
Page 29
Under my constant supervision, she convalesced on the shores of Lago d’Iseo in the small hamlet of Sulzano. I calmed her first days, then explained what had happened to her and her fallen infant.
Initially she blamed me for bringing the Order to her door, but within weeks seemingly came to an understanding within herself.
At times I found her in deep contemplation, rocking back and forth, as if she coddled a baby.
Because of her ties with the aristocracy in France, I presented her to a full meeting of Elders later that year. It would be the last time I would ever see my Constance again.
I walked from the grand castle in Transylvania and vowed to leave my native lands, making for Zagreb, then the port of Trieste. Taking the first passage west, I encountered the Ivory Coast of Africa, then for some wild notion, determined to sail round the world.
At each stopping point, I met vampires, but the further I travelled, the stranger their customs would become. In some countries, the vampire groups welcomed me and I settled for many months. But in others, the Dutch East Indies in particular, the vampires despised my ‘oldness’, and I was chased from the islands, fearing for my life.
After staying in Japan for two years, I received a letter from the Elders that changed my direction.
Ivan,
I hope that one of my missives reaches you.
Travel to San Francisco, California, North America.
There, contact an Asian diplomat by the name of Chin Loo.
He has a new assignment for you.
Bris
1872
The letter, apparently three years old, gave me direction in my rather haphazard life. I made my way sedately to the United States, perfecting my English as I travelled.
I had no idea of what awaited me in this blank slate of a country.
In the spring of 1876, I arrived in the bustling port of San Francisco, and began to make enquiries of the oriental gentleman.
It seems that wherever one travels in the world, home is a difficult thing to shake off. The Chinese seemed to have perfected the transformation. Wherever they went, they took home with them, building ‘small Chinas’ wherever they settled.
San Francisco lay a case in point.
‘Chinatown’ proved more than a place filled with Orientals; it was a fortress within a city that held dangers for the unwary.
“I seek Chin Loo,” I asked at many stalls and establishments, always guided deeper into the colorful inner city. At last, I sat in the waiting room of an acupuncturist, where I sat for an hour. A small girl attended me with cups of weak tea, until I eventually got invited to meet the man.
For all the old decoration and lighting, all the image of ‘oldness’, Chin Loo sat behind a huge desk, dressed in a modern business suit.
He invited me to sit, and I did so, waiting on his attention.
“I am Chin Loo Min,” he said. “What do you want of me?”
His voice sounded like he had spoken through some strange musical contraption, his words light and melodic.
Regardless of his demeanor, however, Chin Loo held one other attribute.
He smelled of vampire.
I handed him the letter. “I am Ivan Vyhovski. I am of the Order.”
Chin Loo gave me a strange, almost menacing look. He stood and walked slowly round his desk. “Excuse me,” he said, as he placed his head near mine and sniffed loudly. Maintaining the puzzled expression, he returned to his shiny leather seat.
He leant back and laced his fingers together. “You are indeed of the Order, but you hide it well.”
“I was trained in 1666 by an Elder who knew of the subtleties of the Order.” I nodded across the table at my letter. “Do you have instructions for me?”
“I have been given instructions to hand this mission to the first member of the Order who presented himself here.” Chin Loo observed me for a moment. “I have had these instructions for five years. Do you know of a partnership called ‘The Two Clerics’?”
I shook my head.
“It is hardly surprising. They have been quite discreet in their dealings, but nevertheless, news of their actions has come to our attention. You are aware, are you not, of a certain diminishing of discipline in the Order?”
“I’ve travelled extensively in the last few years. I have met a few who needed bringing to heel.”
“Yes, as the Order has advanced, certain reprobate elements have formed that hold no ties to the old Order. They are too new to care, and they are too distant from the original homeland.”
“It is a natural process,” I said. “We spread around the world at the speed of mankind’s advance; it would be difficult to keep the ties as close as the old times.”
Chin Loo smiled. “Well, there exists a partnership of two men of the Christian God, both from differing sects, one catholic, one protestant. They hunt the more roguish element of the Order, and they do it well. The Order only exists by permission of mankind’s ignorance of it. The two clerics cut off the heads of those that seek to rise above the parapet; a cleansing, so to speak.”
“And how does this affect me?”
“We would seek an alliance with the pair rather than war with them. They have certain attributes which we would learn more of. They have been turned, yet to our knowledge do not partake of blood.”
I frowned. “No blood at all? Surely they would atrophy?”
“Not enough is known for conclusions to be drawn. But no account has reached the ears of the Order of them taking blood, even that of their victims.”
I considered Chin Loo’s words. If the clerics had indeed found a way to exist without blood, perhaps a ‘cure’ for the condition could be found.
“And where can I find these gentlemen?” I asked, my curiosity piqued to a high degree.
“From my latest information, they attend Saint Francis College in Loretto, Pennsylvania. I believe it is an Irish college, but there my own knowledge runs scant, I’m afraid.”
Pennsylvania. I knew it lay on the other side of this vast continent, but not how to get there. “Do I go over land?”
“Ah, you are in luck, there is now a railroad, built by my own people, which will traverse this country in mere days.”
I thanked Chin Loo and left the acupuncturist in better spirits than I had arrived. I now had a goal, and some direction, rather than the meanderings I’d endured these last few years.
When I enquired at the railroad offices of passage across to Pennsylvania, it transpired that the time of crossing the country had fallen to under a week. I quickly purchased my ticket, and a gentleman at the counter told me to bring my own food. I smiled inwardly at the prospect of having a whole trainload of ‘food’, just waiting for my sharp canines.
While sometimes boring in the extreme, the crossing both displayed the diversity of the continent, and the vastness of it. Changing at Council Bluffs, Iowa, and at Chicago, I arrived in Pittsburgh after ten days travelling by train.
Established 1847.
An already faded, engraved wooded sign bespoke the small college’s short lifespan. As I watched from a clump of trees near the main building, I wondered how I would tell the ‘two clerics’ from the rest of the staff. Brown robed figures mixed with all ages of students, finding them by observation proved simply an impossible task, so I did the obvious; I walked up to the largest building and entered.
Inside, a main desk sat dwarfed by high wooden walls, crosses, and heraldic wooden shields. I crossed the small tiled floor.
“Excuse me?” I looked over the desk at a robed man. “How would one enroll here?”
The man behind the desk looked up at me with an enquiring stare. “With an application form, two sponsors, and two letters of recommendation.”
The man’s Irish lilt fell out of his mouth like song lyrics.
“I see. Could I sit in on some classes to see if they are for me?”
He shook his head. “Sorry, the classes are fully subscribed, and in any case, skimming is no
t allowed.”
“I see,” I said, turning to leave. “Thank you for your time.”
“What is it you really came for?”
I turned back to the man. His expression had not changed. “I mean, you didn’t come out here to Loretto just to ask a question that could have been done by missive.”
“Fair enough.” It seemed to be time for the truth. “I seek a pair of clerics, one Catholic, one Protestant. I believe they reside or teach here.”
He reached behind him and pulled on a long, thick, tasseled cord. A distant bell rang.
Within moments a smallish boy appeared at a run. “Father Jacob?”
“William, go fetch either Father Patrick or Father Andrew.”
“Yes, sir.”
He set off, again at a run.
“You can wait over there.” Jacob pointed to a long wooden pew against the wall by the door.
After my long journey across the country, an hour’s wait seemed hardly to matter.
The man at the desk remained quiet, then the boy returned, and they held a whispered conversation.
The robed man stood up. “Sir?”
“Yes?”
“Father Patrick will see you now, he is in the small chapel.” He waved at the boy. “William will show you the way.”
“Thank you, you’ve been so kind.”
But the man did not smile.
The ‘small’ chapel needed little guiding to. The small building stood apart from the main college, with a large cross above the door. Thin, stained-glass windows ran down both sides. The boy stopped at the three steps and ushered me past.
Inside, two rows of pews ran forward to a small Dias where a black figure stood. Mid-thirties, maybe older, short, cropped, dark brown hair, dog collar, one of the two drop variety.
“My name is Andrew Robertson,” his accent sounded well defined Scottish, even in such a short phrase. “What do you want from me?”
I walked up the aisle, then stood maybe twenty feet away. “I have been sent by the Order. For some reason they want me to meet you and your companion.”
“The Order?”
“The ancient Order of the Strogoi.”
He sneered at me, his lips curling up into an unwelcoming grin. “You are a vampire.”
“I don’t wish to be confused with the more prevalent modern version. I am of the Order.”
“So you’re an old vampire. Is this meant to impress me?”
“Doesn’t impress me either.” A sudden introduction of a voice behind me. I tried not to turn round, but my self-preservation kicked in and I glanced back down the aisle. A second man, very much like the first, but his accent differed slightly. “Patrick Watson, from Moycullen, County Galway.”
“So I have met the ‘two clerics’.”
Patrick walked up the aisle past me, and I tried with all my senses to get an imprint from him, but failed miserably.
“Your vampire tricks won’t work on us, Strogoi, we’ve been at the game far too long.” He joined Andrew, moving to the other side of the Dias.
The men were almost twins, not identical in feature, but alike in everything else, stance demeanor, speech.
“So, your Order has sent you to see us,” Andrew began. “For what purpose?”
I shook my head and walked to the front pew, sitting down on the hard, polished maple. “I have no idea. I was given a letter of instruction, and directions here. That’s all I know. I actually hoped that you’d know all the details.”
Suddenly, without any signals, the men shimmered slightly, and I knew they’d swapped positions.
“An interesting way to indicate that you are also vampires.” I nodded, looking at the complete lack of humor in their faces.
“Your name?”
“Ivan Vyhovski, from Lviv, in Poland.”
Patrick bowed. “Welcome, Ivan Vyhovsky, to the college of Saint Francis. We rest here between travels. We catch up on our prayer and repent to the Lord for our sins.”
“Are you a religious man, Ivan?” Andrew asked.
I nodded. “I was once. I studied at the Jesuit Collegium in Lviv, founded by the Greek Roman Catholic Church.”
Patrick looked impressed, the first time he’d changed expression. “Perhaps you’d like to pray with us?”
I immediately baulked against the idea, but nodded my head slowly. “It’s been a while.”
Andrew vanished, reappearing at my side. “We are all sinners, Ivan.”
It felt incredible that the man would take such an attitude. I followed him to his knees, and felt Patrick join me on my other side. I still feared attack, but for some reason, their presence comforted me. As they began the old words, so often spoken by me in Polish, the words came slowly. When they shifted to Latin, I surged in remembrance of my earlier days, and tears coursed down my face as I joined the litany.
Regardless of the initial reason for my mission in meeting these men, I now had a powerful urge to stay and become friends with these strange religious vampires.
They handed me a prayer book in English, and we began again, this time my words were strong, powerful, rising in the small church with enough force to blow the roof off.
Then they closed their books.
The next prayer was of their own writing, and I listened and learned their story.
“Father in the heavens, forgive us our sins. We take souls from the wretched, and we release them to you. Father in the heavens, forgive us our sins. We take lives from the lost, and we honor you with their spirits. Father in the heavens, keep us strong in the faith. We take strength from your love and we resist all temptation. Father in the heavens, we rebuke the curse inside us, and we strive for release from our bondage. Father in the heavens, we accept the blood of our Lord, Jesus Christ, and abhor all other forms. Father in the heavens, we ask forgiveness in our earthly bodies, in the hope of resurrection with you at the end of all days. Amen.”
By the third repetition, I had caught most of the words, and mouthed the prayer along with them. By the sixth, I spoke the words in unison, and meant every one of them.
My life changed that day, given both a comradeship and a solitude that I’d never embraced so fully before.
I learned their new ‘tricks’, taken from the eastern European vampire hunters of old, and they learned mine. Together we formed a bond I considered unbreakable.
Their story inspired me, making the process easier.
These old vampires, turned in the process of hunting other vampires, had never tasted human blood. Their prayer alone kept the urges at bay. They ‘pushed’ their hunger down, and prayed harder when the need arose.
Initially, I felt reticent in joining their enforced restriction, but as the days passed, I felt stronger against my instinctual perceptions.
Days spread to weeks, and then, to my joy, I woke one morning, over two months from my last feeding, and felt no hunger at all. The prayers that day sounded more vibrant. The hymns from the choir made the stained-glass of the large chapel sparkle with color.
Despite my vampire roots, my life felt complete.
Also from Vampires Don’t Cry
The adventures of Lyman Bracks and vampire Mandy Cross, the “Wars” series;
Book 1: Vampire High School
Book 2: The Helsing Diaries
Book 3: The Rage Wars
Book 4: Blood Red Roses
Anthology (Backstories)
The Vampires Don’t Cry “Sins” trilogy
Original Sins
Sins of the Father (expected 2015)
Sins of the Order (expected 2016)
From Ian Hall
The Connecticut Vampire series;
A Connecticut Vampire in King Arthur’s Court
A Connecticut Vampire in Queen Mary’s Court
259
books on Archive.