by Dani Hoots
Even kill their own.
So I write to you this story, telling of how untrustworthy, crafty, and cunning the strigoi, the true vampires that spawned the myth, really are in reality. This tale is a cautionary tale for all girls, like myself, who could be fooled by such cunning beings. If I had known to what lengths they would go to survive, I wonder if I would have still trusted that man with my life as I had done. I probably would have, even though to this day I regret my own folly and wish I had died that night rather than suffer the consequences for eternity. But he wouldn’t have let that happen, no matter how hard I tried. And now it was just too late to ponder anything in the area of “what ifs?”
It all started one evening when I was returning to my Romany camp in the wilderness in what was the 1500s (has that much time really passed already?). I had gone out to the village six miles north of camp to buy some food for my friend, Jack, who was sick. He needed some lemons for a cider recipe and our camp had been experiencing a short supply of them. It wasn’t necessary for him to have these lemons, but I believed it would help him get over his sickness that had been persisting for a couple weeks now and I couldn’t let him suffer any more than was necessary.
So I snuck out and gathered all the coins I could. Granted, none of the coins were mine; I had stolen them while I was in the village. Mostly, it was only from rich people in the market, showing off their jewels and fine clothing, whom I bothered stealing from. They were so pompous and arrogant that they didn’t even notice as I snuck up behind them and grabbed a few coins here and there from their purses or pockets. I could have done it in my sleep, really. Some say that I was lazy to pick-pocket like this. They didn’t understand that it was still hard work on my part to not get caught, even though I had become a master at it.
After successfully getting the coins I needed, I quickly made my way back through the forest before anyone in the village noticed that their precious gold and silver was missing. Madam Sonia, the leader of our camp and my mentor for becoming a Shuvani, didn’t want anyone knowing about us in hopes that we could make this place in the woods our home for a while. She preferred to stay still, but with the winter months coming, it was hard to keep morale up as rations began to get smaller. We would have to move eventually for food, but not until we had to.
Thievery had been a problem in the past, but Madam Sonia made all the people in the camp promise not to go into town and cause a scene. A lot of people weren’t as good as I at sneaking in a few coins here and there, ruining it for the rest of us more talented thieves. They would always get caught and the town would drive us out of the forest and our camp would have to move before we had time to really become familiarized with an area and call it home for a long while. So, now there was a strict rule that prohibited any kind of stealing, and no one was to venture into town without obtaining proper permission from Madam Sonia. I didn’t follow either of those rules and hoped that I could get away with telling her instead that I had been hunting the entire time that I had been missing from the camp.
The sky began to darken as I made my way back through the woods of Romania. It had taken longer than I had thought it would to get back to camp from the town and the moon had already begun to peak its face out for the evening. I was hoping that I would be home before night came, escaping the chance of Madam Sonia founding out where I had run off to. More importantly, people in my camp always talk about how strigoi were known to haunt these parts, not that I actually believed in such tales. Nonetheless, I would be in a lot more trouble now that it was dark and the strigoi were prowling the night, and would kill anyone they happened to chance upon.
The mother moon was full, brighter than I had ever remembered seeing it before. I smiled up at it, feeling more alive that night than I ever imagined was possible. I danced at the sound of the wind rustling through the trees, the warm summer air bringing more beauty to the forest than any person ever could create. Twigs tugged on my skirt as it flailed about but I didn’t care. I loved my life as a traveler, even though we didn’t travel as often as we used to when my grandmother was in charge. We got to see the world, and be free of the shackles that came with living in a town. In a town, you were expected to have to pay taxes, issue laws that the citizens don’t necessarily agree with, and sometimes choose a ruler who doesn’t seem to care at all for the welfare of their people. We had a leader, yes, but she loved the camp and listened to everyone who wanted to talk to her. We voted on things, making sure the majority, if not all the camp, agreed to something before we did it. It was nice being in such a small community, knowing and trusting everyone with your life, feeling safe in knowing that they would always be there for you. I would never want to give up this life.
I listened as owls began to call out into the night while bats fluttered up into the sky. I could make out their wings as they hurried off after some bugs. Most people feared bats, but I had always found them quite fascinating to watch. They seemed to have a beautiful story to tell, if only someone would just care to listen.
A couple of deer trotted ahead of me, looking for a place to rest for the night. They looked like young deer, who were braving their first night as adults. Their spots were all gone, but they had that apprehensive look in their face that seemed like it would belong to a fawn. The newly fallen leaves crunched under their hooves, as they hurried off to somewhere safe and sound to spend the remainder of the night. I wondered if anyone in the hunting party caught anything today. It would be ironic for me to see a couple of deer if they hadn’t caught any.
As I danced towards my camp, I heard the sound of a violin playing in the distance. I stopped in my tracks. I had heard that music before, in my dreams. I had always thought it was someone in the camp playing that lovely instrument, or just my imagination recalling hearing it long ago in the past. Curious as to where this lovely music was coming from, I listened closely. There shouldn’t have been anyone in these woods, yet it sounded as if it were really close. The sound was magnificent, the song fast and enthralling, I couldn’t help but be captivated by it. In fact, there was no way I could turn away from the music, not when it was so delightful. So I headed toward it, letting it lead me to its source.
I forgot where I was and what I was doing. The music captured all my attention, leading me to drop the bag of lemons I had been carrying back from the town. I was a slave to its melody, as if I were a fly trapped in a spider’s web and there was no turning back now. I couldn’t snap out of it. I felt like I was in a dream, as if all the nights that I had heard it while growing up had been leading to this very climatic moment all along.
Coming to a clearing, I found myself in front of a castle. It looked old, abandoned, if not almost ready to fall apart. Something about this castle made me feel like I should have noticed it there before, but I had no memory of it. I had ventured through these woods many times before this night and I had never seen this castle until tonight. I swore that there had been a small cemetery near here, rather than a castle. I glanced around, seeing no sign of the cemetery. Had I been mistaken? Was this not where my mother brought me so many years ago to say goodbye to my father?
My heart raced as I stepped inside the castle. A swift cold wind ushered me in, causing me to wrap my arms around myself. I hadn’t felt cold while walking in the woods, yet this place was sending shivers down my spine. Shrugging off any thought of turning back, I started deeper into the castle.
The castle was layered in constant shadows, with no light coming from any direction around the castle. There were a few candles scattered along the stairwell, beckoning me to follow them up towards where the music was coming from. I could see light coming from one of the doors on the upper floor. I started up the stairs, cobwebs and dust surrounding me. My heart was pounding in my chest but I couldn’t stop. I just couldn’t stop moving.
I swore I saw shadows moving around the stairwell, ghosts of the night. I gulped, not moving my head towards them in case they were something that I did not want to see. I just kept te
lling myself they were a creation of my own imagination, or shadows of the trees outside the castle moving around in the wind, not wanting to move my head towards them. But something of this world couldn’t move like that, not even a shadow.
I kept creeping up these stairs, the quick-paced violin’s music kept getting louder and louder. The candles led me straight to the room, as if someone had been waiting for me to come. My heart kept pounding in my chest, harder and harder. I couldn’t stop though, I had to find who was creating that beautiful music that beckoned me to enter into this mirage-like castle.
I made it to the top of the stairs, the door only opened a crack as light shined from it. I slowly pushed it open, fearful for what I may find behind these doors.
The room was perfect, no dust or cobwebs in any corner. It wasn’t like the rest of the castle. No, this room looked like it had been consistently well-kept. A fire burned in the fireplace, crackling as it let out heat and lit up the room, which was a deep contrast to the shadows and darkness of the other areas of the castle. By it were two leather chairs and a wood table that appeared to be worth quite a bit of money. With such refined furniture to sell, I could supply food for my camp. Although to be honest, we weren’t exactly poor since we grew and hunted all of our own food. Sometimes, the crops, though, did not sustain the camp and we would have to go into the town to get some more food. It would be a lot easier if we had more money to do that. The costly rug resting near the fireplace would give us money for a year’s worth of meat alone. I glanced around the room some more, finding tapestries on the walls and a mirror on the furthest wall. It was the largest mirror I had ever seen with a gold rim surrounding it. As I examined the mirror more closely from the doorway, the music suddenly stopped.
I blinked, realizing it had been the music that drew me near. I knew what was going on but it wasn’t until that moment did I truly realize I had been a slave to the melody. I shouldn’t be there, I had to get back to my camp. It was a mistake to have let myself be drawn in here by that song.
I turned to find the door slamming shut on me. I tried to open it, but it wouldn’t budge. I tried again and again, frantically, but it was no use. I was trapped in this place.
“Where do you think you are going, Miss Amalia?” a voice said. I spun around to find the most handsome man I had ever seen standing behind me. His hair was golden, like a field of wheat, and his eyes were light like the sky on a summer morning. He was an older gentleman, who was even more handsome than many young men I’ve encountered through my life of traveling. A violin was cradled in his hands. He was the one making the beautiful music.
“I... I shouldn’t be here, I have to get back home,” I tried to pull the door open again but nothing happened.
“Shh, don’t worry, you can go home. But first, you must listen to my song,” he placed the violin under his chin and began to play.
I stopped trying to escape, the music captivating me once again. It was seductive, alluring, it felt almost like a love affair almost just by listening to it. Playful, yet soothing, I could keep listening to it until the end of time. I followed the man as he stepped back and led me towards the mirror. I was doing this, all because of being trapped under a trance. Yet, I had no means of escaping from this trance that this music seemed to draw me under, as if a magic spell was being conjured by his music.
Standing in front of the mirror, I watched as he played softly, the bow moving back and forth against the string. A few in our camp knew how to play, but none played as majestically as this man did. He circled around me, but I kept my face toward the mirror.
That’s when I noticed that he didn’t have a reflection.
My heart began to pound in my chest. I didn’t know what to do, I had heard stories around the campfire by Madam Sonia, but I never thought they were real.
The strigoi.
It was a creature of legend, one that terrorized our villages and camps for centuries. The dead that have come back to life to drink the blood of the living.
And now he stood right in front of me. His face was as gentle, and satisfying as a spider that had finally caught a fly. His eyes were full of excitement as he planned on what he was going to do with me. My heart was racing and a tear escaped the corner of my right eye, but I couldn’t move. The strigoi must have noticed my fear, for he stopped playing.
But, I was still unable to move, and I was forced to continue staring at the reflection of myself without the strigoi in this room.
“What’s the matter, my dear Amalia? Don’t you like the music I play?” he whispered into my ear, sending shivers down my spine.
“You are...”
“A strigoi? You’re a smart little girl for figuring that out.”
“Who are you?” I squeaked.
He let out a brief chuckle. “Why I am Petru, ruler of all the strigoi.”
“What do you want with me?” I gulped.
I suddenly felt my hair being moved away from my neck. Even though I felt his hand lifting my hair gently, the mirror showed no evidence of what was happening.
“Why, that’s simple. I want revenge for the pain your camp has brought to me.” With that, I felt pain in my neck. I could see blood trail down my neck, but there was no trace of him.
Then everything went dark.
I woke up to the sounds of birds tweeting in the distance.
My head was hurting so bad that I could barely think. As I opened my eyes, the light brought on even more pain. I glanced around. Where was I? What was going on? I blinked a few times to find myself in my tent.
I was back in my camp.
I bolted up out of my mattress and out of the tent to find my friends and family already up and about for the day. Both Darius and Madeline had already captured some song birds and placed them in cages to sell in the town. A group led by Marcus was getting ready to go into the woods for a hunt and some kids, including my friend’s children Dan and Magda, were picking up golden leaves and pinecones that had fallen upon the ground during the night. I couldn’t believe my eyes.
How did I get back here? Was everything that happened last night then just a dream?
No, it couldn’t have been. I remembered the music, I remembered being bitten. I shuddered at the thought as I placed my hand on my neck but there was nothing there, not even a scratch. It must have been a dream.
I went back inside my tent and rifled through my things. In my bag, I had found the lemons that I had purchased for Jack.
But I swore I had dropped them somewhere in the woods.
Rubbing my head, I tried to recall the journey home. I remembered the woods and everything up to that point, including the strigoi, but that was it. I couldn’t remember getting back to the camp. My heart was still pounding in my chest. The song he was playing in my dreams, it was a song sometimes I would hear late at night as I would fall asleep. Could it have been him all this time? No, it was probably just a dream. It couldn’t have been real.
I felt sort of foolish to think that it could have been real, but every time I thought back to it, the more I felt that it had happened. I distinctly remember his touch as he moved my hair away from my neck. I shuddered again. But I was back in the camp, if that had really happened there was no way I would be back here.
Deciding I should go visit my friend to see if he was feeling better, I grabbed my sack of lemons and started towards his tent. Jack was only a couple of tents over from me. He had been sick for a while now, running a fever, sweating uncontrollably and his eyes were redder than a rose. So far, Madam Sonia hadn’t figured out what was the cause of it, but since I was working under her, learning the craft of herbal medicine, I decided to try to help him myself.
And the best thing to start with was honey, garlic, and lemon.
There was a sign outside Jack’s tent, explaining that Jack was ill and to stay away from the tent. We still weren’t sure as to what he had and only practitioners in the medical and spiritual field, the Shuvani, were allowed to see him. Since I was
both that and a close friend, I felt it was my duty to visit him as often as I could, and to do my best to cure him of whatever he had. We had grown up together, his parents dying when he was at a young age and my father the same. We felt some kind of a connection from being able to relate with that kind of shared grief over a deceased parent Therefore, we have always looked out for one another, for as long as I could remember.
I called out from the other side of his tent. “Jack, is it alright if I come in?”
I heard a faint yes and entered his tent.
There wasn’t much to his tent, as our tribe were travelers by nature. We could only have what we were meant to carry. Clothes were hung up along with the tent. Jack himself still didn’t look good, his face covered in sweat, a cloth on his forehead to help soak up the liquid. He had some water and wine by his mattress, but it didn’t look like he had touched it. He had complained that his throat and ears had started to hurt as well. His skin was pail and clammy, but he tried to keep up a smile when he saw that I was there. I doubted that smile would last long after I left.
“Hey handsome, how have you been doing?” I asked as I sat cross-legged by him. I moved a piece of his black hair out of his face for him as he started coughing.
“I’ve been better.”
I held up the lemons. “Look what I picked up.”
His eyes brightened a little. “You got some lemons? That must have cost you a fortune.”
I shook my head. “No, it didn’t cost me a fortune.”
He frowned. “What have I told you about stealing? I told you I didn’t want you doing that anymore. You could get caught and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you, Amalia.”
I twiddled my thumbs. “I know, but I didn’t want something to happen to you, either. I will do whatever it takes to make you feel better, okay? Just don’t worry about it, I will be careful. If you want me to stop stealing, you will have to get better. How about that?”