by Raven, T. R.
“Nikolai lay broken in the cave, hardly able to move. He pushed the corpse of Stavros off of him, careful not to dislodge the stake that pierced his heart. He was making his way to the cave entrance inch by inch, hoping to either find a corpse with some blood left in it still warm enough to heal him, or hoping to be within the sun’s rays once it came up so he might be destroyed so his suffering would end. To his surprise a live human stood peering into the cave entrance. It was Agacio, a humble shepherd who had not fled in defeat after the day’s battle but instead hidden among the trees, hoping to catch Stavros by surprise after nightfall. Agacio had heard the commotion between the two vampires and came to investigate once the fight had ended and all was quiet.”
“Agacio saw the corpse of Stavros and Nikolai broken on the floor of the cave, and rushed over to help him. Nikolai screamed at him to stay back, that he would kill him if Agacio stood within his reach, so desperate was he to consume the human blood which would enable him to heal again. Agacio ignored his warnings and approached him. He knelt before Nikolai’s broken form, just out of reach, and told him he knew this to be true, that Nikolai would kill him in an instant given the chance. He explained he understood this was out of Nikolai’s hands, it would not be out of choice but out of instinct and need. He thanked Nikolai for destroying Stavros and making their lands safe once again, and with that he lay down in front of Nikolai, who immediately pierced his jugular vein and drank deeply, eager to end his pain with healing.”
Claire let out a small breath of disgust at that.
“He couldn’t help it Claire, it was sheer instinct, sheer self-preservation. Agacio knew what he was doing, he knew Nikolai would kill him, but he was willing to sacrifice himself to save the vampire that ended Stavros’ reign of terror. If you’re done passing judgment on a hero,” Joyce sniffed in disdain, “I’ll finish the story.”
Claire nodded her head, eager to hear what happened next and how it pertained to her.
“Nikolai gorged himself on Agacio’s blood until he passed out. Kind of like a drunkard passing out from too much drink, except his passing out was his body’s self-defense so it could heal itself. He had undergone so much trauma and damage. When he came to again in the dark, two whole nights later, he looked upon the deceased Agacio and wept with shame and grief, horrified he had killed him, horrified even more he had not stayed awake to return the favor in kind and let Agacio drink his blood so that he may have turned vampire rather than perished. As he wept a blinding light flashed through the room. Nikolai cowered, thinking dawn had caught him unprepared and it was then end for him after all. When he realized he had not perished and turned to dust, he slowly opened his eyes and rose up. There before him stood the Goddess Circe in all her glory.” Joyce glanced out the window and Claire automatically followed her gaze. Dawn was upon them now, its first weak rays chasing away the night’s blackness.
“You’ll be ok, in the light?” Claire asked Nikoli with genuine concern.
Nikoli was visibly taken aback by her sudden kindness to him. “Yes, I did my injection in the barn; the co-mingled blood will counteract the sun’s effects on me for a full day. I have to re-inject myself before dawn every day if I want to walk in the light,” he explained. “Joyce, finish up. Claire needs to understand what this all means, then we all must rest. We have a long trip in front of us.”
“Yes, Nikoli, you’re right. Circe appeared in the cave to Nikolai, who was wracked with grief about killing Agacio unintentionally. Circe calmed him, explaining he could make it up to Agacio, he had an important job ahead of him. She opened her palm and there lay Stavros’ Fangs. She told him that while Stavros was dead for now and his corpse was to be burned, his skull would remain and could not be destroyed. The only way to bring him back once his body had been burned was to place a Fang back into its spot in the jawbone. To even touch a Fang to its original position would be to rise Stavros up from his grave. He would regenerate and start his reign of terror anew if a Fang ever found its way back to its place.”
Claire interrupted, addressing Nikoli. “The Fangs? Is that the Fang you were asking me about?” Nikoli nodded in response, his eyes alight with joy Claire was not only listening but catching on quickly. Claire offered a small smile in return then turned her attention back to Joyce so she could continue. She couldn’t continue to look at Nikoli, his intense gaze at her just then had given her butterflies in her stomach.
“Circe informed Nikolai that she would destroy one of the Fangs herself. She had the magic to do so, to obliterate it completely, but- she would only destroy one Fang. The other she handed to Nikolai, and told him that it was the responsibility of the humans and vampires to work together to safeguard the second Fang. Circe warned him that Stavros’ essence still had sway over his offspring and-”
“Wait a minute here,” Claire interrupted again, her mind working overtime. “Stavros had kids? A family?”
Nikoli jumped in to answer her. “No, not in the traditional sense. Joyce is referring to his vampire offspring, the humans he had fed on then turned into vampires. Most vampires are reluctant to turn another, more vampires means more competition for resources, more chance of being discovered. As he demonstrated when he attacked the Greek nomads and became infected with what you would call Gypsy blood, Stavros was prone to self-destructive behavior with little thought to the consequences. In his few decades as a vampire he had already turned a few dozen humans vampire, whereas as most vampires won’t turn a human even once a century.”
“So how could he influence them when he was dead?” Claire looked for further clarification.
Nikoli put his head in his hands, running his fingers through his brunette locks as he searched for the right words to explain it. Claire found herself wanting to run her fingers through his thick hair, and the thought both delighted and horrified her at once. She almost visibly shuddered while trying to shake off the thought, but still, this guy was not only a real vampire, but a handsome one at that. When did this happen? She asked herself. When did he go from terrifying kidnapper to nice, hot guy with fangs? Oh wait, when it turned out he was telling her the truth he was a vampire. Claire blushed slightly as she cast a quick glance at Nikoli. He caught her look and blushed himself but looked away quickly before they held eye contact.
“It is commonly referred to as an essence,” Nikoli went on, composing himself again, staring at the table in front of him. Joyce seemed not to notice the odd moment that had just passed between the two. “It was not his spirit, exactly, but more his will. He could not influence any of those he’d turned in any fashion outside of working to resurrect him. It’s as if his will became a separate entity when he died and could exert force over those beneath him in his bloodline. All of us vampires are somewhat connected to our makers- we can feel it if they are in extreme circumstances, for example, but we are unable to force those we have turned to follow our will. Stavros, due to the demi-God magic coursing through his undead veins, was able to call the underlings of his bloodline to do his bidding.” Nikoli turned his gaze back to Joyce, encouraging her to pick up the story again.
“So, where were we?” Joyce resumed her narration. “Circe instructed Nikolai that he was to take the remaining Fang down to a village half a day’s journey away. He was to find Agacio’s remaining son and tell him everything. Nikolai was to place the Fang in the son’s care, and the son was to be the Keeper of the Fang of Stavros, the human who safeguarded it. It was also Circe’s will that a vampire watch over and guard the Keeper in case the underlings of Stavros’ bloodline, or Myrmidons as she called them, came to reclaim it to raise their Master. Circe named Nikolai the Guardian of the Keeper, the vampire to watch over and protect the Keeper of the Fang of Stavros. To help protect the Keeper from the vampires’ power of persuasion Circe spelled the remaining Fang to protect whoever held it from persuasion. The job of Keeper, and also the Guardian, was to be passed down through the bloodline of both Agacio and Nikolai. It was Circe’s will and as a Goddess her
word was law.” Joyce paused to sip her tea, watching Claire over the rim. She placed it down softly and leaned towards Claire.
“So of course Nikolai did just as Circe commanded and burned Stavros’ body. Circe took the skull herself, to hide away in a place only she knew of. Nikolai followed her command and gave the Fang, and the story, to Agacio’s only child, a son about 14 years old. Nikolai watched over him every night, working to fulfill his duty as Guardian of the Keeper. Do you know now how this pertains to you, Claire?” Joyce asked.
Claire shook her head, feeling a sense of dread. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear what came out of Joyce’s mouth next.
Joyce dropped her voice to a conspiratorial level and leaned further across the table towards Claire. “You, Claire Raymond, are the Keeper of the Fang of Stavros now, and Nikolai here is your Guardian.”
Chapter 5
“Look,” Claire began, now feeling sorry for Joyce and Nikoli rather than afraid of them. “I don’t know anything about Keepers or Guardians and I don’t have this Fang. My family is dead- I need to go back home and begin making arrangements for their final services.” Tears began flowing freely down Claire’s cheeks but she did not give into a total emotional breakdown.
“I believe what you say is true, I know Nikoli is really, truly a vampire….but I have no place in this. I need to help the police catch my family’s killers.” Claire fought back the wail of anguish building in her chest. “I wish you luck with your Guardians and Keepers and all, but I can’t help you here.” She dropped her head down, staring at her clenched fist in her lap, fighting the waves of emotion threatening to overtake her. She dug her nails into her palm with such force they broke skin. Claire closed her eyes. She had been able to push her dead family out of her head long enough to see the injections in the barn and hear Joyce’s story, but now the reality of it all was hitting her and she didn’t think she could stand it.
A cool touch gently peeled her clenched fist apart and held it, softly. Claire stared at her hand in disbelief- it was Nikoli’s hand unclenching hers. This time she did not pull away, but allowed him to hold it. It somehow comforted her just enough to force down the yawning chasm of grief promising to overtake her. She slowly lifted her head up to meet Nikoli’s kind gaze. He made eye contact with her as he slid his fingers gently over her knuckles under the table, out of Joyce’s sight. Claire felt a tension building up inside of her, and this time it was not her grief.
“You’re wrong Claire.” Joyce’s voice pulled her away from Nikoli’s attentive gaze. “The Fang of Stavros, and its Keeper, were lost to us for years and years. It was not until your Grandfather’s obituary in the paper that we were able to know for sure that your family was of the Keeper’s lineage, the ones who held the Fang.”
“Nikoli said my Grandfather was a Keeper,” Claire replied, “But how would you know that from his obituary?”
“I recognized his photograph,” Nikoli told her. “Not the recent one, of him as he was within the last few years, but the photograph of his time in service.” He squeezed Claire’s hand gently under the table.
“In the Hungarian revolt against Russia? I don’t understand.” Claire squeezed Nikoli’s hand gently in return, and to her delight, his face flushed as he held her gaze.
“Yes, in 1956. I was Guardian to the Keeper of the time, Andras Szabo. I followed him into battle, but we were separated when we fell under enemy fire. Andras was always so stubborn, I couldn’t keep him away from the war. He insisted on fighting for his country’s freedom.”
“What does that have to do with my Gramps?” Claire didn’t understand.
“Andras had a twin brother, Tamas. Tamas knew little about the Fang and thought I was just his brother’s best friend. When the battle finally subsided and I was able to recover Andras’ body I found someone had removed all personal items from his person. All his personal effects were gone, including the Fang of Stavros he kept zippered in an inner pocket of his pants. I assumed it had been his brother, but did not know for sure. Tamas was never to be seen or heard from again- he deserted the rebellion and fled out of the country. I heard from others in our company that the death of his brother had shattered him, and he could not bear to stay in his homeland, the land his brother died for, under the Communist oppression. I suspected he had fled to the United States as it had always been a dream of both brothers to leave Russian occupied Hungary to go to the Land of Opportunity.” Nikoli sighed and Claire squeezed his hand to encourage him to continue. “I came to the US in search of Tamas, convinced he had the Fang of Stavros in his possession. He of course would have no idea of its value, its importance, as the information is only passed on from Keeper to Keeper in most instances. He knew it was of great importance to his brother but little else.” Nikoli took a deep breath, continuing on.
“I have never found Tamas. I have been relentlessly searching for the Fang, and its new Keeper, all these years. I was driving by the car dealership one day when I saw an older man who looked familiar somehow climbing into his car as he left the dealership. Intrigued, I applied to work there to try to find out more information. I wanted to piece together why that man was familiar.”
“That’s how you ended up delivering my car!” Claire exclaimed.
Nikoli nodded. “When I was hired at the dealership I began to investigate a bit. I found his name, and date of birth, which matched Andras to the day. I knew I had to find him, to see if this man could really be Tamas. It would explain why he looked familiar to me, even after all these years have passed. I delivered your car and even asked to use the restroom inside as a ploy to enter your home.”
Claire was visibly surprised.
“Vampires cannot enter a home without permission,” Nikoli explained apologetically. “If Thomas Raymond was really Tamas Szabo, the Keeper, I needed to be able to enter his residence without the delay of obtaining permission. What if the Myrmidons found him? They too have been on the hunt for the Fang and its Keeper all these years.”
“I discovered your Grandfather did not reside with you when I checked the purchase paperwork against the delivery paperwork. I was anxious to approach Tamas myself and planned to do so the next day. When I pulled up to his residence there were police cars in the driveway along with an ambulance. I kept watch in the local paper online to see Thomas Raymond’s obituary, who was really the Tamas Szabo I have been searching for all these years.” Nikoli stopped there, waiting for Claire’s response.
“Tamas Szabo was my grandfather?” Claire asked.
“Yes, Claire, he was. He had changed his name to Thomas Raymond when he arrived in the US, though he never legally changed it. There is no record of a Tamas Szabo immigrating to the US, but I have found records of Thomas Raymond arriving in the US from Romania in 1956. They are one and the same. I know he had the Fang of Stavros, and I know he gave it to you. I know because you resisted my persuasion, and only a human in possession of the Fang can do so.”
“He never gave me the Fang, I swear.” Claire was so confused.
“Nikoli,” Joyce cut in, “John had mentioned to me before his passing that you suspected Tamas may have altered the form of the Fang. Why do you suspect that?”
Nikoli grinned fondly, remembering his former Keeper’s brother. “Tamas was always tinkering, never able to resist altering things from their original form.”
“That sure sounds like Gramps.” Claire sniffled, cursing the tears that welled up again. “He could never just let things be.” A lone tear slid down her face and Nikoli released her hand long enough to reach up to wipe it away. The mere light touch of Nikoli’s hand on her cheek sent Claire’s blood pounding with desire, her heart racing. He grasped her hand again and she returned his grip in kind.
Joyce caught the tender moment between them, chuckling. “See Claire? A few hours ago you were ready to gouge his eyes out, anything to break away from him, and now you’re warming up to him so quickly. It’s in your bloodlines, girl, you’re a Keeper through and through
and even your flesh and bones know it. It’s in your blood, Keepers take to their Guardian, vampires or not. Reminds me of my John.” She sighed wistfully.
Claire gaped at Joyce. “John? Your husband? He was really a vampire?”
“Yes to both,” Joyce replied, standing up to collect a framed photograph from one of the kitchen shelves filled with knick knacks and family pictures. She handed it to Claire.
“We met when I was 17 and I was smitten instantly. He was too, that’s why I couldn’t understand why he pulled away from me so. I knew in my heart he loved me too but he kept trying to break it off.” Joyce sighed fondly, remembering happier times. “He finally broke down and showed me the truth about what he was, thinking it would send me packing. It didn’t- it made me love him more for trusting me enough to show me the secret of what he really was. He finally conceded to marrying me, saying he couldn’t stand the thought of watching my human life pass us both by, but couldn’t stand to miss it either. We married when I was 19 and he was 24. Well, he looked twenty four but he was really over three hundred years old.”
“What happened to him?” Claire asked softly.
“He was killed out in California. He was out there to work with a clan of vampires struggling to stay on the fringes of society. They wanted to, they tried to, but they were getting sloppy and attracting too much human attention. John was not only a great scientist but a charitable man as well. He went out there to try to help this clan, but ended up being killed by the Myrmidons. They were here in the US as well looking for the Fang.” Joyce’s eyes grew far away, the pain of her loss visible in her expression.