A Vampire's Honor

by Carla Susan Smith

  Magda’s hand on his arm stopped him as he turned to leave. “It was nothing but water, Aleksei, pure water from a secret spring that was birthed by the mountains. That is what I used to soothe your raging throat.” He felt his face flush that she knew he had thought it might be poison. “And it is no demon that waits for you. Do not fear him, Aleksei. Take what he offers . . . or not. The choice is yours.”

  Outside, Aleksei was surprised to find Konstantine and his cart waiting. The old man gave him a toothless grin, and Aleksei knew who was responsible for bringing him to the witch. The priest was already settled in the back of the cart, but not wanting to share the journey with an unending recitation of prayers, Aleksei seated himself next to the old man.

  It was a long journey, made even longer by the slow, plodding gait of the horse, but Aleksei minded neither the distance nor the cold. Something was waiting for him, and, in case it was a demon, these might be his last moments on earth. It was a sobering thought.

  As they rumbled through the village, Aleksei could feel the eyes of every single person who lived there watching him. But no one came out to offer any condolences. They were all too terrified he would bring the wrath of the Petrov family down upon them. At the place where the dirt track turned off toward what had once been his home, Aleksei stopped Konstantine. The smell of burned timber mixed with the aroma of charred hide and hoof and flesh still hung heavy in the air.

  “No farther, old man,” Aleksei said softly, patting him on the arm. This time there was no mistaking the tears that ran down either side of Konstantine’s nose. He opened his mouth but, unable to find words, closed it again. Aleksei nodded. Sometimes the best words were ones that were not spoken. “Take him back to the church,” he said, nodding at the priest seated in the back. Not having taken the initiative to get down from the cart, the priest had plainly gone as far as he was willing to go. It was enough. Whatever waited for him, Aleksei would face it on his own.

  Chapter 15

  Gabriel watched the exchange of words between the driver and his companion before the man got down from the cart. He was pleased to note that the priest had no intention of joining the man, who now continued on foot. In fact, the priest’s frantic arm waving seemed to be the cleric’s way of urging the driver to put as much distance between themselves and the fork in the road as possible. Gabriel could have told him he was wasting his time. The horse had only one speed. It took a while, but eventually the priest stopped waving his arms.

  Gabriel grunted softly. It was exhausting watching the priest flail about like that. If only he would put as much effort into tending to the needs of those he proclaimed to serve. With the cart and its passengers no longer a concern, Gabriel turned his attention to the figure making its way through the snow.

  In truth, he was surprised to see him. Others in the past had abandoned their loved ones rather than face him, and it made him wonder what the priest had said to persuade Aleksei to return. Perhaps he hadn’t had to say anything at all. It might be that the man would have returned of his own accord. Seeing Aleksei stumble, Gabriel narrowed his eyes. He would know the measure of his character soon enough, and that would decide everything.

  It wasn’t the scent of spilled blood that had brought Gabriel to this place. It was the loss of innocent lives. Even though over the course of the centuries he had taken more human lives than could ever be counted, he never took the truly innocent. He never took the life of a child.

  After examining the bodies lying in the snow, their throats slashed in a fit of pique by a man who believed it was his right to do so, Gabriel felt compelled to stay. Someone had escaped the grotesque tableau. Separate splashes of blood in the snow, away from the bodies, told him there was a survivor. A man, judging from the depth of the footprints left by those who’d carried him away. And he was curious to know what kind of man could so inflame another’s rage that he would slaughter an entire family. So he stayed that night, watching as the buildings burned to the ground. Then, as other predators were drawn to the carnage, he let them know one far more deadly had already claimed the bodies.

  Gabriel had observed many rituals involving human burial. From the simplest to the most elaborate, there was one commonality linking them. The cleansing of the deceased body. So when the priest appeared at first light, he assumed it was to perform that task. But the cleric had come only to satisfy his own morbid curiosity as to the cause of death, and after investigating the vicious slashes across each throat, he turned to go without so much as offering a single prayer.

  “Is it not your custom to bury the dead?” Gabriel asked, stepping from the shadows of the burned-out house.

  Startled, the priest lost his footing and slipped on the packed snow. One hand immediately disappeared inside his coat, emerging a moment later tightly clasping a crucifix, which he held out in front of him. “W-w-what are you?” he stammered in a voice that wavered.

  Gabriel frowned. His feelings of outrage at the priest’s apparent indifference toward the dead had made him careless, allowing the man to see a hint of his true nature in his face. Why else would he have asked “What are you?” instead of the more customary “Who are you? ” Ignoring the man’s words, Gabriel repeated himself. “Is it not your custom to bury the dead?”

  The cleric nodded his head, the grip on the crucifix turning his bony knuckles white.

  “Then why are you not preparing the bodies?”

  “We c-cannot—the c-count has f-forbidden it!” The priest’s voice rose in agitation.

  “Forbidden?”

  “H-he has d-decreed that any who set foot on this land will f-forfeit their own and b-be b-banished.” It was hard to know if it was fear or cold that made the priest stammer.

  “So you are defying him?”

  The man on the ground shook his head. “The ch-church is exempt. Even the c-count fears f-for his soul.”

  “His actions would seem to proclaim otherwise,” Gabriel commented. The priest scrambled to his knees and crossed himself a number of times. He then clasped both hands around the crucifix, locked his elbows, and thrust his arms into the air. He also began praying. Loudly. Dropping to his haunches, Gabriel placed one hand over the crucifix and grabbed the front of the priest’s coat with the other. “Where is the one they left alive?” he asked.

  The priest appeared shocked that the demon before him could touch the blessed item in his hand without any ill effects. “They t-took him to the w-witch.”

  “A priest and a witch in the same village? How convenient.”

  “If he d-dies under her h-hand, the c-count will not hold us responsible.”

  Gabriel narrowed his eyes and pulled the priest closer. “Make sure he returns, priest.”

  “For w-what p-p-purpose?” the man wailed.

  “Someone needs to see to the dead.”

  * * *

  As he made his way through the heavy snowfall, Aleksei was forced to conclude he was weaker than he realized. Either that or the path had somehow become much steeper since the last time he’d walked it. The fire in his lungs and the tremors in his legs forced him to stop more than once. And when he did, he noticed the only sound he could hear was his own labored breathing as he blew clouds of vapor into the frigid air. The silence unnerved him. He should have been able to hear the cawing of crows, but all that surrounded him was a blanket of ominous silence. Had the birds been scared off by the demon or Count Petrov? Was there any difference between the two? With a grunt, he continued on his way. The cold numbed his face so he could no longer feel the dull, throbbing ache of his cheek. So far it was the only good thing that had come of his effort.

  The house and barn were nothing more than blackened timbers, and despite the layer of snow, Aleksei felt certain that it would take only a few kicks to uncover smoldering embers. Another heavy snowfall, however, would take care of that and, hopefully, the terrible smell that lingered. He’d never thought the smell of burned animal flesh would turn his stomach, but perhaps it was the circums
tances that made him feel so nauseous.

  The sun, such as it was, had begun to slip toward the horizon, marking the end of the day. “Idiot!” Aleksei muttered to himself. He had not thought to bring a light, and it would be dark soon. He might need to revisit the idea of finding some embers in the hopes of building a fire. If nothing else, it would keep the predators at bay. Just because the crows had abandoned his land, the same wasn’t necessarily true of other creatures. Like wolves.

  The thought filled him with alarm. If, as the priest had said, his mother and the children were still lying where they had fallen, then it stood to reason that predators might have already found them. The idea made him feel wretched, and he fell to his knees, making horrible noises as he vomited up whatever Magda had poured down his throat. She had told him it was water, but he doubted that’s all it was. Grabbing a handful of snow, he rubbed it vigorously over his face, not caring if dirt penetrated his ragged cheek. He didn’t know how he was going to do it, and cared not if it was frowned upon by the church, but somehow he was going to bury his family. Even if it meant clawing at the ground with his bare hands. Steeling himself, he made his way to where Nikolayev had murdered them.

  They were gone.

  He had prepared himself for the possibility of seeing partially eaten corpses, and he looked around for evidence that might indicate the bodies had been dragged away. But the snow was pristine; the only tracks visible were those left by his footprints. There was just one explanation—it was the demon! The priest had warned him, but Aleksei had thought the man a fool. Now he knew better. His mother, Larissa, sweet Sofia, and the twins had all been taken to hell at Satan’s bidding.

  With no bodies to bury, no family to mourn, he sank to his knees and began to weep. His chin struck his chest with each shuddering intake of breath.

  “Do you mean to remain on your knees all night?”

  A chill ran down his back. The voice reminded him of a fine bear skin, the thick, glossy fur hiding the menace of teeth and claws. It was also disturbingly arousing. Frozen in his current position, Aleksei turned his head to see the creature that had addressed him. If he was meant to die at this being’s hand, then he wanted to look him in the eye before giving up his life.

  A figure came out from the shadows, and long, elegant fingers stretched themselves out toward him. “I will graciously accept a woman being on her knees,” the voice said, with a hint of sly amusement, “but only if it is her choice. A man in the same position is not something that tempts me.” The fingers curled, beckoning to him. “And I can see that you are at a loss as to my meaning.”

  Without thinking, Aleksei grasped the hand offered and felt himself being pulled to his feet with very little effort on the stranger’s part.

  “Definitely weaker,” he muttered under his breath.

  Slight movement at the corners of the man’s mouth told him his words had been heard. It was foolish to give away an advantage. Although if his progress up the steep path had been observed, then his body’s limitations were already known. Was the man here at the behest of the count, sent to either finish him off or confirm he still drew breath? Aleksei looked at his clothing, which, though strange to him, seemed of a very fine quality and appeared to be more than adequate to protect against the elements. Likewise his boots appeared sturdy, and although he wore no gloves or scarf about his face, he seemed not unduly bothered by the cold.

  Unsure what to do next, Aleksei stared at the man with frank openness. The stranger stood a full head taller than himself, and had shoulders that were wider and a chest that was broader than his own. Aleksei was considered one of the strongest men in his village, with the well-developed physique that came from a life of manual labor. But now, in comparison, he looked as weak as he felt. His gaze went back to the face, which was framed by hair as white as the fallen snow. Aleksei had never seen hair that color, and in the stranger’s brilliant blue eyes he saw the hint of something tragic. A terrible loss. One that continued to haunt him.

  Was this whom the priest had seen? Was this the demon he had been warned about? Except, now that Aleksei looked at him, he saw the stranger wasn’t a demon at all. He was something else. How could the priest have made such a mistake? Hadn’t his mother told him about the creatures that walked the night? But then perhaps this being had found no reason to smile at the priest and had not revealed himself as he was now.

  “You know what I am.” It wasn’t a question, but a confirmation.

  There were many names for a being such as he. Seducer of the Night, Consort of the Dead, and others that were even more poetic in nature. But Aleksei was a simple man and didn’t know how to hide the truth with ambiguity.

  “You are a drinker of blood.” The head of white blond hair acknowledged the truth with a single nod, and to Aleksei it seemed the honesty of his reply was appreciated. “Did you take my family?” he blurted out.

  “Take them . . . ?” The hand that had helped Aleksei to stand was now held out in protest. “Of course not. We do not feed from the dead.”

  “Then where are they?”

  “I moved them.”

  “You—you moved them? Where?”

  The long white hair fell like a curtain over his shoulder as the creature turned his head. “I put them inside the house. It was easier to watch over them in there,” he added by way of explanation.

  Inside the house? There was no house. There were no walls, half the roof was gone, and what was left was being held up by two timbers that would probably collapse in the next stiff breeze. How would it be easier to watch over his family in there?

  “Even the wolves know when to fear the shadows,” came the answer.

  A lump in his throat robbed Aleksei of speech as he entered the ruined dwelling and looked at the bodies that lay next to each other on the floor. The priest, he realized, had been wrong about this also, because someone had taken the time to prepare them for burial. The skin was freshly washed, the hair clean and curling in soft waves around each face. It looked to Aleksei as if his mother and siblings were asleep instead of dead.

  As was the custom, each of them was dressed in a clean white robe with coins resting on their closed eyelids. There was also a length of white linen wrapped about each throat. This, Aleksei knew, was not customary, but nevertheless he was glad of it. He did not know if he was strong enough to be reminded of how each life had been so cruelly stolen.

  “Why would you do such a thing?” Aleksei asked, gesturing to his family. This was completely unexpected, and he could feel emotion swelling inside of him. “You do not know me, nor I you.”

  The vampire shrugged his shoulders. “No one else was coming to attend to them, and this is your custom, is it not?”

  “The priest told me—” Aleksei broke off, suddenly too ashamed to repeat the cleric’s words.

  “Ah yes, the priest.” He made no attempt to hide his disdain for the cleric.

  Aleksei couldn’t even begin to imagine what the church would do if they knew a vampire had been responsible for preparing his family for burial. A hand rested on his shoulder, and he found the weight strangely comforting. “What did your holy man tell you?” the vampire asked.

  “He said that a demon would let no one approach.” Aleksei paused and then blurted out, “Is that true? ” An odd light shone in the depths of the other’s brilliant blue eyes, and for a moment Aleksei could have sworn a circle of gold rimmed each pupil.

  “We’ll never know, Aleksei, because no one in your village was brave enough to defy your liege lord.” The hand was dropped with a sigh.

  Although confused by the vampire’s words, Aleksei was certain he grasped their meaning. He also noticed the vampire called him by name. “You know my name?” he queried.

  “I know the name of everyone in the village.”

  “Ah . . . truthfully?”

  “Truthfully.”

  Aleksei absorbed this information. To his mind it would be a terrible burden carrying all those names in his head.
“When you said liege lord, you meant . . .”

  “Nikolayev Vasily Petrov. He gave orders that any who set foot on your land would forfeit their own. The exception being your holy man.”

  “So he came to help you?” It would also explain how the priest had seen him.

  “No, he did not. Even though I did nothing to him, I knew he would not return. I told him to send you.”

  A sudden anger flared in Aleksei at the priest’s cowardice. The hand now returned to his shoulder, its companion grasping his opposite arm, and Aleksei found himself staring into the vampire’s eyes. The blue was quite hypnotic and made him think there were worse ways for a man to die. “Do not be afraid of me, Aleksei, for I mean you no harm.”

  What had the witch told him? “. . . it is no demon that waits for you. Do not fear him, Aleksei. Take what he offers . . . or not. The choice is yours . . .”

  “You can ask me anything—anything at all—and I promise to be truthful.”

  Aleksei blurted out the only thing he could think of, “What is your name?”

  Chapter 16

  Gabriel smiled. Of all the things Aleksei could have asked him, he’d requested a simple courtesy. What is your name?

  “I’ve been called many things in my time, including demon,” he chuckled, “but you may call me Gabriel.” Aleksei’s gasp made Gabriel silently curse the priest. No doubt the peasant was wondering how he dared call himself by such an angelic name without bursting into a pillar of flame. “It is the name I was given,” he told Aleksei, easily reading the unspoken question on his face.

  He could also see another question that the peasant farmer was struggling not to ask. Named by whom? Who would dare to call him thus? Gabriel waited, but when Aleksei turned his head, he realized he would not ask. There were some things it was better not to know. Besides, Gabriel thought to himself, would Aleksei have believed him if he had told him?