Requiem of Humanity

by Catherine Stovall

  Matteo was not the only one to suffer from haunting dreams. Throughout the day, Drew had found himself visited by Soborgne’s mocking laughter, Jenda’s weeping, and the never-ending sound of wings beating against the wind. The audio assault had pounded against his ears as he spun in circles inside the burning villa. Driven insane by the onslaught, he had walked straight into the sun. Drew had felt there was no other way to escape the guilt he felt for sacrificing Jenda’s best friend. The girl he loved would hate him if she knew.

  His eyes sprang open and he felt as if he was suffocating. He dug out of the makeshift grave with such haste he did not bother to listen to ensure he was alone. The smell of dirt and his own fear stuck to the back of his throat in a thick acrid layer. The need for fresh air and the clear night sky propelled him from his hiding spot. He had to rid himself of the tainted residue left behind by his day terrors.

  Brushing most of the dirt from his hair and clothes, Drew sought out the place where the villa had stood. As he had suspected, the house was too far into the Hills for others to have noticed the early-morning fire. The entire building lay in a smoldering heap except for a few main support walls, part of the staircase, and the chimneys. The charred brick structures were the final witnesses to the annihilation of so many.

  Drew did not linger. He could see the occasional bone sticking from the rubble but he did not worry. The morning sun would have disintegrated any vampire remains already and the animals would soon take care of anything left from the humans who had been inside. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he called Tobias and let him know that he was on his way back to the castle with news of Soborgne.

  It wasn’t until Celeste came that Matteo agreed to leave the room. Dressed in a long black dress, very reminiscent of the long-ago days of his youth, she stood in the open doorway. Her stance was formal and cold. Matteo marveled at her ability to turn her emotions off completely. When she did, she became more like the statues she collected. Her marble white skin, cold uncaring gaze, and unnerving stillness only enhanced the illusion more.

  She wasted no time. “Tobias spoke to Drew. He will be returning to the castle within the hour. He says he has news of Soborgne and he has found something of great importance. He didn’t trust speaking openly on the phone in order to give more details. We will meet in my chambers. I know that you are mourning but your presence is required.”

  Matteo did not have the energy or the true concern to protest. He simply nodded and turned his back on the door and the lady, marveling at the ice that must run through her ancient veins. Celeste watched him for a moment, trying to fathom the loss he felt. When her Chosen One was sacrificed to save her from certain death, she had certainly grieved. Yet, she had not felt the loss as infinitely as Matteo. His human emotions were always his one true weakness. Disappointed and at a loss for words, the lady walked away.

  Matteo waited until he knew Celeste was already through the main corridors before he left his room. The rest of Vajdahunyad’s inhabitants and visitors were only just rising, many of them still healing from the battle. He hurried through the hallways, praying he did not run into anyone.

  Everywhere, the color black filled the castle. Ebony cloths hung over mirrors and the regal red curtains had been covered on the inside with massive dark sheets of velvet. In the customs he and Celeste had both observed in old Italy, there would be three days of mourning observed in honor of Jenda and Anya. Three days seemed a lifetime without her by his side and eternity loomed in front of him like a deep chasm.

  At last, Matteo made his way outside. In the courtyard behind the castle, hidden from the public view, stone tables stood where the bodies would lie during the ceremony. Torches burned in a circle around the gathering sight. Their light danced across the white pavestone paths and lengthened the shadows all around him. The setting seemed surreal.

  The witches would prepare Anya and Jenda with great care. The deceased would be dressed in gowns of white satin trimmed in white lace. Crowns of delphinium clusters, sea lavender, and white orchids would decorate their hair. Already, deep crimson amaryllis petals covered the slabs, a tribute to the Coven and Clan’s loss. The very essence of the funeral site was tragic beauty.

  Anya and Jenda would receive a traditional vampire funeral. Afterward, they would leave Anya’s body for the sun as tradition dictated. Due to Jenda’s unique resistance to the solar rays, her body would be burned in a special funeral pyre. It seemed disrespectful to let the flames have her but he must commit her body back to nature in order to release her immortal soul.

  Sitting on a stone bench, away from the flickering light, he tried to force himself from his depression. Drying his eyes, he fought to clear the grief from his mind. If the sunrise could take his life, he would curl on the slab with her in his arms and perished from the world at her side. He found the idea of throwing himself into the flames a little more difficult but, no matter what else happened, he would leave the earth in unison with his wife.

  Matteo sat in the garden and contemplated his suicide uninterrupted for a long time. It took several tries for Patrick to claim his attention. When at last his soft brogue broke through the layer of fog into Matteo’s brain, the grieving vampire simply stared at him as if he was not truly there.

  Patrick hated to see his friend in such poor condition. “Hey, me boyo. How ye holdin’ up?”

  Matteo tried to form words but only managed a tight shouldered shrug. Trying to talk around the pain that barricaded itself would take more control than he could muster.

  Patrick understood the silence and continued. “I know its hard lad. I miss our lil’ lass as well. Come now, the creepy one has returned and the Coven n’ Clan be gatherin’ in Celeste’s rooms.”

  Matteo gave one last look to the slate that would soon hold the manifestation of the loss of his very soul. The two men walked silently into the castle. The halls were full of vampires, witches, and servants. Many stopped Matteo to offer sincere condolences, and by the time he reached the meeting place his tears fell freely once more. Even strangers came to mourn the loss of the vampire princess of Vajdahunyad and her ally. Word of the girls and the prophecy had spread to the far corners of the earth.

  17

  The meeting was less formal than the first time the Clan and Coven had met in Celeste’s rooms. Still worn from the battle and feeling the weight of their loss, the remaining members of the Coven and the Clan lounged on unarranged furniture about the room. They spoke very little, each of them feeling the gravity of their deeds the night before. Slaughtering other vampires and witches, no matter how evil, pressed heavily on many of their minds.

  Celeste spoke briefly to her congregation about the upcoming funeral rites. “For those of you who are not yet aware, Jenda will be given to the fire. The need to deviate from tradition rose from her unique condition but we must do what we can to free her spirit from the immortal shell of the body.”

  The other’s stared wide-eyed, amazed at Celeste’s seemingly uncaring attitude, but the ambiance of anger had no time to grow a voice. Drew stormed into the room holding a velvet wrapped bundle. Freshly showered and missing his facial piercings, he almost looked like an average human kid. Drew had chosen the look purposefully. In his dangerous game, he needed an audience who would not see him as a threat.

  He took a seat on of the white overstuffed couch and hung his head. The room’s occupants waited in silent edginess. He let his thoughts turn to Jenda and opened himself up to the grief. The raw emotion would lend an air of truth to the lies he would tell. After a moment, Drew raised his head and stared into the distance. His eyes brimmed with unshed blood tears.

  Taking a deep breath, he told them his story. “Though the loss of Jenda and Anya was great, they did not die in vain. I entered the villa after you left to douse the site with gasoline and burn the evidence left behind. We never checked the rest of the rooms on the third floor. In the last room, near the balcony, I found Soborgne’s body. Someone, probably Augustine, had staked
her. I let her burn in the house—no creature like that deserves a proper burial.”

  Matteo jumped from his seat. For the first time since he had watched Jenda die in his arms, he felt real emotion. “You burned her! How could you? Jenda! She would never forgive you.”

  Drew looked at him, his face frozen in shock. He hadn’t expected anyone, especially Matteo, to defend Soborgne. “Matteo, she was no longer the girl Jenda knew. The darkness had her. She was dead anyway. Matteo? Matteo?”

  Matteo didn’t answer. His grief and anger overcame his voice.

  “She wasn’t even a vampire anymore. She was becoming something else.” Drew nearly whimpered as Matteo took a step forward.

  Celeste stepped forward and placed her hand on Matteo’s chest. She locked eyes with him and eased him back. Her voice was smooth and calm despite the rising alarm she felt. “Matteo, calm down. None of us here had the opportunity you were afforded to know the young lady who Soborgne was. Drew did not mean to sound callous or uncaring.”

  Matteo inched away in order to escape her hand on his chest. He couldn’t stomach the feel of anyone’s touch. Celeste turned her back on him once his anger quelled. She focused her attention on the bundle nestled next to Drew. “What Drew was able to do was find the book I have spent many years searching for.”

  Celeste motioned for Drew to hand her the velvet ensconced parcel. She took it carefully in her hands even as a look of disgust passed over her face. Unraveling the cloth, she revealed the horror of what lay inside to the others. She turned the macabre cover toward her audience and waited for the disapproving mumbles to stop.

  Celeste’s pain eked into her voice as she choked out the words. “The man who created this book was pure evil. The blood, bones, and flesh used to create this monstrosity are from both vampires and humans. The inscription is said to have been written in the blood of a slain demon. It reads, Sárkány Szíve or Dragon Heart. So many secrets are hidden within these fleshy pages.”

  Drew, shamed by Matteo and afraid his lies may be uncovered, mumbled, “I only did what Jenda asked me to do.”

  “What? What did you say?” Matteo was on his feet again. “You are not allowed to utter the syllables of her name. You leech!”

  A blood drinker as old as Matteo was dangerous without being on the edge of insanity and Drew nearly screamed in his own defense. “When the old day walker grabbed her from the woods she told me to find the book.”

  Matteo drew himself to full height and placed himself an inch from the boy’s face before anyone could move to intervene. Grabbing the front of Drew’s shirt Matteo yanked him up so that the toes of his black motorcycle boots barely touched the floor. His words were a whisper of menace as he stared unblinkingly into the young vampire’s eyes. “Her exact words, tell me now.”

  Drew thrashed his head from side to side, looking around in helplessness. He foolishly waited for someone to pry the crazy, grief-stricken vampire away. No one moved. The Clan and Coven desired his answer as much as Matteo. When he realized his life was really at stake, Drew’s fangs extended out of instinct and he feared Matteo would take it as a threat. He feared if he opened his mouth the tiny incisors would show and further anger the distraught vampire.

  Matteo gave him a rough shake and raised his voice to a thundering roar. “Tell me! So help me, by God, I will rip your throat out where we stand.”

  “She told me to find the book. She said find the book of blood and bone. She said the spirits know. He shot her up with the poison then. She passed out, Matteo. She screamed and they were gone. I swear. That was all.” Drew’s body trembled. By vampire standards, he had only just begun to live and was not ready to die.

  Matteo shoved Drew away hard enough to send the younger vampire backward over the couch. He ignored the crash as the piece of furniture toppled. He turned to Celeste, “Give me the book.”

  She returned his icy stare. There seemed to be no semblance of her old friend left behind the hollow blackness in the eyes of the monster before her.

  Even his voice sounded as if he was far away. “If Jenda knew something we didn’t, if she spoke to the spirits, we must find out what they know quickly. There may still be time.”

  Celeste’s voice was low. The others sat ready to restrain Matteo if needed. “Time for what, Matteo? The girls are gone. The prophecy cannot be fulfilled and there is nothing we can do to bring Jenda back.”

  Matteo shook his head. He tried to clear out the cloud of confusion. Logically, he knew Celeste was right, but he couldn’t help believe there was more that could be done. Since Jenda came into his life, nothing at all had made logical sense. Everything had taken a turn for the unnatural and strange. He couldn’t accept that she was completely gone.

  Celeste could see the war that raged within him. The Matteo she once knew fought like a drowning man to break through the dark waters and surface. Yet, the monster’s grip was firm. He lifted his gaze from the book to her trembling lips and he smiled. “Give me the book, Celeste. Hand it over before I rip your heart from your chest.”

  Imre stepped closer and Matteo’s eyes snapped in his direction as his lips curled up in a savage sneer. Celeste, seeing the risk, held the book out to him. “Take the book Matteo. Take it and look for whatever it is you think you may find. When you are unsuccessful, you can return it to me. There are things written in there that could be devastating in a lesser person’s possession.”

  Matteo relaxed a little once the book rested in his long white hands. Celeste would give in to any request he made, no matter how delusional, to save more blood from being shed. Too many had died in the war against the prophecy. She only hoped his rational mind returned soon.

  Matteo nodded and walked away. He made the trip through the vast hallways of Vajdahunyad in a mindless blur. He was surprised to find himself standing in front of the door to his suite, the book clutched to his chest, and tears running freely down his face. His heart seemed to weigh ten pounds and the blanket of grief covering him ripped at his intestines like a demon’s claws.

  He placed the gruesome book gently on the small desk in the room and sat down. For the first time, he noticed the old leather bound book Jenda had brought with her from the library. He ran his hand over the cover thinking of the determination on her face when she spoke to him of her plan. He had tried to protect her and had failed miserably. He laid his head on his folded arms and cried.

  Matteo wept for an hour, mournfully calling out Jenda’s name. When the last of his tears fell, he opened his eyes, convinced that she was truly gone and that she would never return to him. From his position, his face sat even with the edge of the books. The corner of a piece of paper stuck out from the library volume. He opened the heavy cover to the place the paper marked. He looked over the old print and the picture without seeing. Everything but her delicate handwriting melted together in his brain.

  He read her notes, trying to force himself to understand their meaning. The prophecy in typed print was as familiar to him as his own face. He had read, written, and spoken those words for centuries. Jenda’s hurriedly added words were what unnerved him. He could almost hear her voice as he read them to himself. The information she had left behind took a minute to seep through the heavy despair that clouded his thinking. When at last he understood, he felt the knowledge like a punch in the gut.

  Checking the time, he saw that the others would be preparing for the funeral services. Matteo had little time to ready himself before he had to face the last rites ceremony. He would not have time to search the book of blood and bone or report his findings to Celeste or the others. He vowed he would not linger in his pain so that he could return to his exploration.

  For the first time since he had watched Jenda die in his arms, he felt hunger. Seeing the words on the page both condemned them all and reminded him of her relentlessness and determination. He would continue the search for answers in her honor. Only an hour before, he had condemned himself to death, but Jenda had saved him once again. He wo
uld continue to live and save the world in memory of his lost love. Just because the fruit of the prophecy had been plucked from life, it did not mean others would not come.

  Matteo showered rapidly. As he dressed and readied himself for the most difficult task he had ever faced, he drank several bags of blood. Not bothering to warm them, the liquid was thick and tasted coppery. Matteo did not care. His time was precious and the quicker he faced the horror of the next hours, the faster he could return to following Jenda’s trail.

  All inhabitants—other than those ordered to guard the castle—gathered in the rear garden. The sounds of hushed voices and muffled tears never reached Matteo’s ears. The vampires, witches, and humans around him were blurred scenery that he could not focus on. He stared down at the pavestones beneath his feet as he approached, afraid that if he saw Jenda he would fall apart.

  When he could no longer fight against the need to verify that she had departed from the world and he had not imagined her death, Matteo sought out the stone altar that held his wife’s body. The light of the torches softened the white of her skin, the gold light gave her an almost human tone. The flowers in her hair and lingering under the satin dress made her look like Ophelia submerged in her watery grave.

  Matteo felt the grief strike him in his chest like a wooden stake. He stumbled, thankful for the strong arms that caught him but unable to see the face. As he twisted away from his fallen love, his eyes turned to horrors far worse. The black wood of the funeral pyre stood off to the right of the ritual area. Carefully laid to form a bower for Jenda’s body, it reminded him that she would burn in the flames as the old crone who had sired him had done.

  Someone assisted him to the bench where he had sat before and patted his arm gently before moving away. Matteo’s body shook and a deep chill settled over him. His worst nightmare had come true. She lay on the stone slab, lifeless. She was not lost in the vampire sleep but in real death. He thought he had accepted the fact but seeing her made the doubt creep back in. He wanted to rip her from her bed of flowers and shake her. The desire to try to wake her pounded his skull like a jackhammer.