Sepia and Silver (Tragic Silence Book 3)

by E. C. Hibbs

  I glanced at the kettle, thinking back on my slumber.

  “Zíta?” I said. “Do you know of any kind of herbal tea that can stop me from dreaming?”

  There was a small silence in which she laid down the rolling pin.

  “I knew something was the matter,” she said, carefully draping the sheet of pastry across the pie. “Tell me what you saw.”

  “That doesn’t matter,” I insisted. “I just want to stop it.”

  “Éva.” Zíta gave me a sideways glance. “Come now, tell me.”

  I sighed. Zíta and Erik had essentially become my foster parents since childhood; neither of them had ever married, so it was a relatively simple matter for them to take me under their wing. But both of them were very aware of how my mind wandered, constantly playing things over until thoughts haunted my head. Nothing escaped their notice.

  “I saw the Final Purge,” I admitted.

  A little of the colour drained from Zíta’s face, but she quickly composed herself, trimming the excess pastry from around the tin.

  “It’s probably just been brought on because it’s almost the anniversary,” she said. “And that new demon will not be helping. Try not to dwell on it.”

  I frowned. Zíta firmly believed everything happened for a reason. It wasn’t like her to simply brush something off like that. I went to question her, but then Erik poked his head through the window.

  “Hey, where’s my tea?” he said.

  “Oh, sorry!” I muttered, lifting the kettle away from the fire. I poured the brown liquid into a chipped wooden cup and handed it over. He shot me a cheeky grin in thanks. He wiped at his forehead with a cloth, his fingers splattered with white paint.

  “I’m almost finished out here,” he said, taking a sip. “How is lunch coming along?”

  Zíta slid the pie into the oven. “It will be ready soon. Eat some bread and butter for now if you are hungry.”

  Erik mockingly waved his hand while her back was turned; then winked at me. I sniggered, emptying the rest of the kettle’s contents into two more cups. I slid one across to Zíta, kept the other for myself, and the three of us drank at the same time.

  I rested my shoulders on the wall beside Erik. His face was weather-beaten and his hands calloused from spending hours chopping wood in the forest, but his smile still held the charm of a boy. He was in his mid-twenties now, five years younger than his sister, although he arguably acted the most immaturely of all of us. He shared her unkempt brown hair, and wore a day-old beard on his chin. Beneath his shirt, his muscles bulged.

  “You do realise I will need to repaint the whole door once this fancy is over, don’t you?” he said to Zíta. “We can’t just leave a crucifix there forever.”

  “It’s not a fancy,” she replied. “It’s serious. We must take precautions.”

  “How can you claim it’s another vampire? It could have been a wolf, for all we know. God knows I’ve seen them in this part of the woods before. I heard them howling today.”

  “Well, it would be the first wolf to drain the blood and leave the body, don’t you think? You are starting to sound like József.” Zíta cocked an eyebrow at him. “Éva, I will make you herbal tea for tonight. That should help you sleep.”

  The two of them glanced at each other, and then I noticed some kind of silent knowledge in their eyes. My senses instantly went on alert. Something wasn’t right.

  “What is it?” I asked. “You do not seem yourselves today.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Erik said, but Zíta glared at him, giving a small shake of her head. She sighed deeply, turning her attention back to me, fingers fishing in her apron pocket. She withdrew a folded piece of paper and held it out, lips pursed.

  I looked at it. A wax seal lay on one edge, already broken. I’d never seen anything like it before.

  “What’s this?” I asked warily, taking the paper as though it might bite my hand.

  “It was delivered while you were at the bakery,” said Erik, all joviality suddenly gone from his voice. “It came from England.”

  I frowned, opening it fully. Lines of cursive handwriting stretched across the surface. I focused on them intensely. When I was younger, József had taught me the English that he had learned on his travels, and now I was fairly literate in the language. But even with that knowledge, I had to read the letter twice before the words registered.

  8th September, 1894

  Dear Miss Eva,

  I apologise for the abruptness of this letter but it is imperative that you be aware of its message. I am your paternal grandfather and have lately come by the means to re-establish contact with my son’s family. Since he is unable to reciprocate my offer, it is my intense wish that that you instead will come to me and reside in my house in Liverpool. I promise you a new and prosperous life, contentment, and safety as a member of my family. I have arranged passage for you aboard the schooner Persephone, scheduled to depart Austria-Hungary on the 13th of October from the port of Fiume. I bid you a safe journey, and earnestly await your arrival.

  With deepest affections,

  Norman Calvin.

  The paper slipped from my grasp and drifted to the floor. My mouth was agape, and I stared at my cousins, shaking my head.

  “How long have you known about this?” I asked.

  “Just today. I swear it,” replied Erik. He was the only other besides me who knew some English, explaining why the seal was broken; he must have read it before I got home.

  “I am to leave within the month?” I cried. “Nem. No, I don’t want to! Do not make me do this.”

  “Éva, we want nothing more than for you to stay here,” said Zíta gently, “but this is out of our control. We have no power to keep you if you have been summoned. This Norman Calvin is of closer blood to you than either of us. You are both the other’s next of kin, and he has a right to claim you.”

  “But I do not know this man!” I insisted. “I am happy here! Please, can you not do something?”

  “If we could, we would,” said Erik, lowering his tea despondently. “Listen, you will have a better life in England. I have no doubt that his promises will become reality: you shall be the envy of all around you. England is the seat of the British Empire, and your grandfather is a rich man. He will be able to give you much more than we ever could.”

  “I don’t want gold or riches!” I held my hands to my face as tears stabbed at my eyes. “I never even knew my father. So who is my grandfather to me? Just a name on a piece of paper!”

  Frustration overwhelmed me and I put my cup down, flinging open the door. Before either of them could say anything else, I fled through the streets. They didn’t follow me, obviously seeing that I needed time to be alone. I made my way up the hill and entered the forest.

  I ran until my chest burned, and drew to a halt, taking hold of a low-hanging branch to steady my breath. Thin silver birches stretched all around me in every direction. Small leaves fluttered from the canopy like orange confetti. I felt some settle in my hair as I walked on, following the path until I reached the woodcutters’ site. A collection of fresh stumps marked the spot, and I perched on the largest one, idly kicking at the stray twigs that had been left behind from the morning’s work. Erik’s axe was still there, embedded in a nearby trunk.

  I could almost still feel the letter in my hand, as weighty as a rock. I knew it wasn’t my cousins’ fault, and instantly regretted the way I had snapped at them. But I couldn’t disguise my upset. I wanted nothing more than to stay here for the rest of my life, with people who I knew cared for me. I had never held any ambition to rise higher than my own personal happiness. I didn’t care that I could be the heir to any kind of legacy. But now, whether I wished for it or not, it was coming for me.

  The prospect of having less than a month left here ate at my heart. I knew, deep inside, that when I departed, the chances of my returning were near impossible. The thought ruptured me, and I broke down, letting my tears flow freely. I hid my face with
my apron, sobbing into the empty air.

  I stayed there for hours, unable to face going home. I could imagine walking through our little house, looking at all the details that I’d come to know so well, and realising that soon I would be gone. It would be a constant barrage of blows that I could not handle.

  The sky gradually darkened. Dusk was coming earlier and earlier as autumn drew on. My stomach rumbled with hunger, but I ignored it, simply wandering a few feet away towards a blackberry bush. I pulled some of the fruits off the branches and ate them slowly.

  In the distance, I could hear Erik and Zíta calling for me. There were other voices as well; they had obviously enlisted some of the neighbours to help in the search. I leaned against a tree and sighed, supposing I should start heading back.

  I straightened my dress with a depressed grimace and began walking towards the path.

  Suddenly, something slammed into me from behind. I yelped in surprise, falling to the ground. I spat leaves out of my mouth and went to stand, but I was spun around so I lay on my back.

  I stared up at a middle-aged man with raggedy ashen hair, thin face offset by a pair of eyes as black as coals. His hands were at his sides, not holding me, but yet I stayed pinned, feeling a powerful force pressing me against the earth.

  I remembered Zíta’s words with horror.

  “They would simply need to look at you, and you’d be unable to move!”

  I drew in a breath to scream, but he brought his palm onto my mouth.

  “Silence!” he hissed, showing two long canines. “Do not struggle, and it will be over quickly!”

  Panic tore through my muscles. It was the vampire. I could even see flecks of red on his muddied shirt.

  Ilona...

  My attempt to shout for help was muffled by his hand. The demon bent across me, restraining my arm near my head. I felt his teeth slice through the flesh by my elbow, and blood welled, flowing into his mouth. He sucked deeply, and I whimpered in pain, kicking out in an attempt to throw him off me. But nothing I did budged him an inch; every time he swallowed, I felt myself becoming weaker.

  My breathing grew ragged as black spots pulsed at the edges of my vision. He was draining me alive.

  Then I remembered his hand over my mouth. Barely thinking, I peeled back my lips and sank my own teeth into his skin as hard as I could.

  The vampire roared, releasing me. I threw him away and leapt to my feet. The world swam before me; I struggled to focus as I clumsily put one foot in front of the other. I caught sight of Erik’s axe and quickly snatched hold of it, pulling it out of the tree.

  Get away from here! I screamed at myself. Hurry! Run!

  He snatched my ankles. I instantly tumbled again, grazing my palms as I tried to break the fall.

  “Segítsen!” I cried in desperation. Help me!

  The demon’s hand appeared in my hair. “Insolent girl! You will suffer for your disobedience!”

  “Nem! Let me go!” I shouted, but I was cut off as he turned me over again and lunged. I glimpsed his teeth once more before they sunk deep into my neck.

  I gasped, my limbs instantly becoming flaccid. I could feel my eyes rolling, trying to fight against the sudden sting running through me. However, I realised that there was no suction this time; it instead felt as though something was being forced into me. My veins burned, as though acid coursed in my blood.

  I trembled violently, and a vision shot into my mind: my imagination piecing together the image of my mother’s final moments.

  The mental picture leant me a rapid burst of strength. Screaming with the effort, I flung my knees up, catching him in the ribs. It didn’t move him much, but unlatched his jaws from my neck. I scrambled from underneath him, and saw my chance. Grasping the axe with both hands, I brought it down, burying the curved head in his chest.

  The demon yelled, stumbling. I explored my wound with my fingertips. Warm blood seeped over them, and then I saw thick black lines running under my flesh like the tracks of a spider. My heart hammered, but rationality roared in my head.

  I was hallucinating. I had to be. I had lost blood... this couldn’t be real...

  The vampire returned, pinning my arms and legs with his invisible will. Flames danced across the surface of his black eyes. I turned my face away, waiting for the killing move.

  But it didn’t come. His weight suddenly disappeared, and I heard an enraged snarl. Alarmed at the sound, I looked up.

  A second figure had thrown the demon away from me, and was now standing between us. He was hunched over slightly, like a defensive cat, fingers curled into claws.

  Where in God’s name did he come from...?

  I noticed a pair of huge wings above his head before he sprang forwards at my attacker, striking out in powerful slashing movements. He flung the vampire into a tree; then wrenched the axe from his torso and swung it at neck-level.

  A severed head flew away to the side. A fountain of blood stained the white trees black. Then the demon dropped in a heavy heap, not moving.

  My rescuer let the axe fall beside the body. He turned slowly to look at me. I stared in wonder, fighting against my blurring eyesight. He walked closer and kneeled at my side, gently placing cold fingertips on my cheek. I could just feel the edges of long nails.

  “Nem... Oh my God, I am sorry,” he breathed: voice rich and flowing. His face was out of focus, but I thought I could see an expression of horror written into it, framed by messy dark hair. The great wings fluttered above him, filling the sky.

  I distantly heard cries and thundering footsteps as the villagers drew closer. My screams must have alerted them to where I was. I glanced at my hand, noticing that the strange blackness was gone. I was right; I had imagined it after all.

  The man looked in the direction of the noise, his grip on me tightening slightly. And then, before I could even manage a word of thanks, he disappeared, melting away into the surroundings like a strange grey mist.

  I lay there for a few moments longer, feeling exhaustion work its hooks into me. I was vaguely aware of Zíta appearing and cradling my head in her lap; Erik sweeping me off the ground. Then my eyelids fluttered and I lost the internal battle, letting sleep drag me deep under its shroud.

  CHAPTER III

  I distantly became aware of my body and let myself settle into it. There was something cold on my forehead. I heard an unfocused moaning sound somewhere above, and then realised it was coming from me. Wishing to get away from it, I turned over slightly, feeling a pillow bulging around my neck.

  I heard muffled voices from nearby.

  “I was right. It was an Izcacus!” Zíta was raging. “Why didn’t you just listen to me and accept I know what I am talking about?”

  “With all due respect, Madam, it was your father who was my predecessor, God rest his soul. He was the one who banished the dark ones, not you.”

  “How dare you assume such things when you were not even here to witness them, József? I know more about these devils than you would ever suppose. Including how to tell when one is nearby, be it Izcacus, Lidérc, or something completely different! I appreciate you teaching Éva and my brother English, but the fact remains that she is lying in there, lucky to still be alive! And she definitely would not be alive if she had only your teachings to rely on!”

  “Zíta, calm yourself!” a new male voice snapped, which I recognised as Erik’s. “This is not going to get us anywhere. May we just speak about Éva herself? Do you think she will recover?”

  “I do hope so,” said Zíta, now more subdued. “She was definitely fed from, of that I have no doubt.”

  “What of the bite on her neck?” asked Józef.

  “Well... did poor Ilona not have the same wound?”

  “Igen, but it was on the front of her neck, not the side.”

  “It still sounds like a kill attempt,” Erik said. “The Izcacus must have missed his target due to her struggling. Am I correct, sister?”

  “I would imagine so,” replied Zíta
. “But, I must say, how she managed to kill the beast by herself in such a state is nothing short of remarkable.”

  My chest suddenly burned and I couldn’t hold back a spasm of coughing. Pain seared through my body and I curled up against it, drifting out of consciousness. After what felt like hours, hands appeared on my shoulders.

  “Éva? Can you hear me?”

  I eased my eyes open, blinking hard against the sunlight peeking around my curtain. Everything was terribly blurred, so I shook my head a little in an attempt to shift the surroundings into their proper places. It worked, and I focused on a shadowy shape leaning over me, silhouetted against the familiar backdrop of my room.

  I immediately remembered my rescuer. I tried to raise a hand, but it fell heavily back to my side.

  “Is that you?” I muttered.

  “Of course it’s me,” it said, but the voice was different: lighter than I remembered. Then details swarmed, revealing Zíta. Her benevolent face was lined with worry as she gently stroked my cheek. She lifted the cold thing from my forehead, and I realised it was a damp cloth. Bandages were wound about my arm, covering the wound, and I could feel another encasing my neck.

  I groaned. “Where is he?”

  “Who, dear?” asked Zíta, soaking the cloth in a bowl of water at the side of my bed.

  Erik suddenly appeared behind her, along with József. My cousin let out an audible sigh of relief upon seeing that I was awake.

  “The angel.” I looked around vainly, as though expecting him to be standing in the corner. “He saved me. Where did he go?”

  “There, there,” Erik said as Zíta wiped my face with the cloth. “You did it all yourself, Éva. You fought him off. Do you not remember it?”

  “No... there was an angel,” I insisted. “I saw him as clearly as I see you! He had black hair, and dark wings... he saved me...”