VROLOK

by Nolene-Patricia Dougan

  “Our carriage is waiting for us outside,” Isabella said sternly. Vlad reluctantly started to move to the door of the crucible-shaped theatre, but as they were just about to step outside, he turned back.

  “The next time you want to send an invitation to my wife make sure it is addressed to both of us,” he said.

  Kit made a bow of mocking respect and said, “I certainly will not.”

  At this Vlad was enraged. He swept swiftly towards Kit and grabbed his throat. The people who were still in the theatre were stunned at this man’s outburst and whispers and shrieks resonated throughout the crowd.

  Isabella crept up beside Vlad, took his hand from around Kit’s throat, and whispered in his ear, “You are the one who wants to stay here. Do you want people to know what we are?” At this Vlad let go of Kit’s throat and he dropped him back onto his feet. “I would suggest, sir, you do not contact me again,” Isabella said to Kit.

  Vlad then proceeded to lean towards him and said, “You have been saved, but just for a moment.”

  The two Vampires left the theatre. Isabella looked back around at Kit just before he was out of sight. He was rubbing his neck but when she caught his gaze he smiled and winked at her. Isabella thought at that instant this was a man who would not live long.

  Isabella and Vlad returned to their home nearby without saying a word to each other. They were both furious with each other. Vlad was the first to speak when they entered the house.

  “Why did you go there this evening without telling me?”

  “Because I knew the way you would react,” Isabella stated.

  “I would not have reacted that way if you had been honest with me and not deceitful.”

  “Oh, yes, you would! Only you would have covered your tracks better and not nearly killed him in the middle of a crowded theatre.”

  “You persist in trying to torment me like this.”

  “Is this what our life together is going to be like? We are happy and then someone invites me to a play and you fly into a jealous fit?”

  “You know that is not the way things happen. I wish you were more like my wife!”

  Isabella walked up to face Vlad and whispered slowly to him, “I wish you were more like my husband.”

  Vlad lashed out at Isabella, knocking her to the floor. She jumped to her feet again and struck Vlad, knocking him to the floor. She walked towards the door.

  “I will come back when I think you can control your tantrums,” she shot back at him. Vlad just lay there rubbing his face where Isabella had hit him. He wanted to run after her and stop her, but he couldn’t and he wouldn’t.

  Isabella picked up her wooden chest and a few dresses and left Vlad again. She secretly wanted him to chase her. She was travelling down the cobblestone street in the carriage willing him to be behind, calling out her name. She looked back, but he was not there.

  Isabella left England soon after her argument with Vlad. The two Vampires had now spent a few years apart, and although Isabella was still annoyed with Vlad, she missed her life with him. He was company for her and without him she was completely alone. She pined for him. So Isabella made her way back to England.

  There was one other reason for her going back to England. She had found some writing that she wanted to give to Kit. She thought he might like it. She missed him as well, and missed his childish wickedness. The article was called The History of Doctor Johann Faust, the Infamous Magician and Necromancer. She knew Kit would appreciate it, so she was determined to return with it.

  In England, everything was the same as she had left it. There was no emotional greeting between the two Vampires, but they were both happy to be close to each other again.

  Vlad enthusiastically told Isabella that he had not injured Kit in anyway, as a favour to her. Isabella was pleased, if somewhat surprised.

  “Good. I intend going to see him,” Isabella began.

  “Fine.” Isabella was slightly uneasy by Vlad’s eagerness to demonstrate how much he did not care, but she would hope for the best, and the next day she went to see Kit with his present.

  She looked for him at the theatre but didn’t find him. She then started searching the taverns. Isabella eventually found him sitting in a dark corner of a nearby tavern. He was by himself and he looked dreadful. Isabella smiled and approached him, intent on giving him the story she had brought with her.

  “You are looking rather melancholy,” Isabella began.

  “Leave me alone,” Kit said.

  “You could at least look at me before you tell me to leave you alone.” Kit looked up and smiled when he saw Isabella.

  “Ah, sweet Helen, have you come to torment me?”

  “You manage to torment yourself well enough.”

  “The wisdom of a woman,” Kit said sarcastically.

  “Do you want me to leave?” Isabella asked.

  “No, quite the contrary,”

  “Still a child, I see,”

  “Only in your eyes. You are the only one I know who thinks of me as I child. How is your oppressive husband?”

  “He is well, and a better man than you,” Isabella quipped.

  “Then why are you here?”

  Isabella found herself asking the same question.

  “I brought you something,” she said. “It’s a book I found it in Frankfurt. It is about a man who made a pact with the devil. He sold his soul for pleasure and power. It might interest you.”

  “It might,” Kit said, completely uninterested.

  “I will leave it with you, then.” Kit made no response and Isabella threw the book at him and left. After a few more drinks Kit picked up the publication and started to read it. He became immersed in the story.

  Kit’s behaviour had made it easy for Isabella to resolve never to go and see him again. She returned to her home and promised Vlad that she would never see Kit again.

  However, after a few months another invitation to a play arrived. It was an invitation from Kit to see the tragedy of “Doctor Faustus.” It came through the door and again Vlad was the first one to see it. This time he did not open it. Isabella, unaware that Vlad was watching her, lifted the invitation and ripped it up.

  Another few months went by and another invitation arrived, “The Famous Tragedy of the Jew Malta” and again Isabella ripped it up, for she was stubborn. Vlad was now content and so was Isabella; they stayed together fairly happily for the next few years.

  Isabella had not seen Kit since he had been so rude to her and she no intention of seeking him out. But, one night in November, 1593, he decided to seek her out. Isabella was out alone looking for food. She was getting irritated. She could usually rely on beggars and thieves to be out at night, but tonight the streets were empty. A few hours passed and she heard a coach travelling quite fast a few streets from where she stood. She waited for the coach to approach her. Isabella threw herself out in front of it to stop it. This was a trick she had used before.

  Kit had been following Isabella. She had not seen him and unfortunately for Kit he cared whether Isabella lived or died. The horses reared and then plummeted back onto to their four hooves, trampling Isabella. The violent impact broke her skin. Blood seeped out from wounds all over her body. She was lying there motionless and covered in blood; the coach driver pulled back the horses from Isabella. Any mere mortal would have been killed by such an accident.

  Kit ran to her and fell to his knees beside her. He lifted up the upper part of her body and turned her around so he could look at her face. He wanted to see if she could have possibly lived through such a horrific accident. He held her just watching her desperately hoping for some sign of life. A wound which Isabella had received was gushing blood but as Kit watched, the wound completely healed before his eyes.

  Isabella eyes fluttered and then she opened them. Kit was stunned. Tears that had welled up started to flow down his face. Isabella looked up at him. She realised immediately who it was. Could she kill him? She thought she would probably have to, but
she could not bring herself to do it. Her body was starting to convulse with hunger pangs; she had left it too long between feedings. Isabella did not think as she pushed Kit aside with such force that he bumped his head off the cobbled street. He sat back up immediately and watched in horror, as Isabella satisfied her hunger.

  She was swiftly moving through all the onlookers in turn. Some of them tried to run and some tried to fight back, but she was too strong and too fast. None of them would live. First the coachman, then the people in the coach. She bit into their flesh, sucking the life’s blood from each of their bodies and they fell to the ground in lifeless heaps. Their blood spilled over her, mingling with her own.

  Isabella stopped when she was totally satisfied and every one apart from Kit was dead. She rubbed the blood from around her mouth and looked over at him. He was terrified at such a sight and he crawled on his hands and knees, backing away from Isabella, afraid to move too quickly.

  She stood contemplating whether she would kill him or not. She stared at him. He was trying to edge away from her. What should she do? Would he tell other people? Even if he did, who would believe him? But when they saw the bodies, they would believe; however, they would never believe that a mere woman had overpowered six people all by herself. They would notice the blood loss, which would go towards backing up his story.

  Kit now stood up and ran from Isabella. Isabella let him go for now; she needed time to decide what to do; Isabella would hide any evidence of her attack and find him tomorrow to see what sort of a threat to her he actually was.

  She piled the bodies into the coach and drove it away from the city. She waited for the break of day so that the people in the town could not see the fire flickering through the darkness. She searched the coach for anything of use to her, but found nothing. She unbridled the horses and then set fire to the coach with the bodies inside. She mounted one horse and led the other one home.

  When she arrived home, Vlad was curious to see the beautiful dress she had worn on the night before drenched in blood.

  “You look to have had an eventful evening,” Vlad stated.

  “I have just came back to change my dress and wash.”

  “Why, you are the one who always says we should not go out in the daylight when we are more vulnerable.”

  “There was a witness,”

  “That has never bothered you before. I am sure you were the last thing they ever witnessed.”

  “No, they got away.”

  “That has never happened before,” Vlad said, a note of suspicion evident in his voice.

  “No, it hasn’t,” Isabella answered sharply. She had no time for Vlad’s suspicions.

  “So why last night?” Vlad asked.

  “I guess I must be slipping.”

  “You must,” Vlad answered, his suspicion never waning. He watched as Isabella changed and left the house. He knew that she was either lying to him or not telling him the whole truth. She had never let a witness escape from her; she was always so careful.

  Vlad got dressed himself and followed Isabella. She saddled a horse and rode towards the centre of London. Vlad kept a safe distance on foot behind her. She arrived near Kit’s apartment, went up the stairs and knocked on the door. A man answered it. Isabella had met him before.

  “Thomas, is he in?” Isabella asked.

  “He is, Lady Hawthorne,” Thomas Kyd answered.

  “Can I see him?”

  “I don’t know if he wants to see anyone?”

  “Why?”

  “He has been acting strangely; he seems frightened of something.”

  “Frightened? Thomas I want to see him.” Isabella pushed on the door slightly.

  “But….” Thomas protested.

  “Now.” This man was always quite weak-willed and he let Isabella in quite quickly. Kit was sitting beside the fire, shivering. He was in shock. His clothes were still covered in Isabella’s blood from the night before. She walked over and sat in front of him. She used all the power she could sum up during the day to get Thomas to leave them alone and coerce Kit into listening to her.

  “Kit,” she said softly, Kit slowly lifted his head and looked into her eyes.

  “I expected you to come for me,” Kit answered.

  “I haven’t come for you.”

  “Are you going to let me live?”

  “If I was going to kill you I would have done so last night and not risk you letting people know what you saw.”

  “I haven’t told anyone.”

  “I know.”

  “Why did you come here?”

  “I came to see you.”

  “You have seen me,” Kit said.

  “Kit, I could have killed you. You should ask yourself why I didn’t.” Isabella got up to leave and Kit grabbed her arm to stop Isabella.

  “When did you make your pact with the Devil?”

  Isabella turned and said. “I didn’t choose to.” She sat down and began her story. “I was born over one hundred and fifty years ago….”

  When Isabella was finished telling him her story, Kit asked. “What is your real name?”

  “Isabella,” she answered.

  “Why do you stay with him? He destroyed your life. How can you forgive him for that?”

  “I would have destroyed my own life, given enough time.”

  “Do you honestly believe that?”

  “It is not just a belief; I know it to be true.”

  “But you have showed me nothing but compassion.”

  “You amused and flattered me; that is the only reason you are still alive.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Believe it…I am a killer…never forget it. If you get in my way I will not think twice about slashing your throat. I have no desire to stop killing, I have not the resolve to give it up. It gives me too much pleasure.”

  “Who would give it up, having been through what you have?”

  “Vlad would and he did. He suffered the pain and endured it for as long as it took for him to grow old. He thought he would starve to death. He has done this twice. Vlad let himself grow old and my vanity could never let me suffer the indignity of growing old. I like killing people. I enjoy the sensation I get from it.”

  “I don’t believe you like killing people.”

  “I do. You just have a higher opinion of me than you should. I don’t deserve anyone’s high opinion. You believe me to be a just a tortured soul. That I am just a victim of circumstance who would have been a good person had she not had a hard life beset by tragedy and filled with hatred. A lovely idea, but I am not one to mislead anyone. I know what I am. I am worse than Vlad. I am probably the most malevolent and malicious creature that God has ever put on this earth.”

  “You are not malicious. You must have great compassion, since you let me live.”

  “Compassion is a human emotion; people without souls cannot have compassion.”

  “But did you not say that when your husband died you felt his soul lift up to heaven?”

  “My husband had never done anything wrong during his life. Maybe God forgave him and blamed the death of our son on me. Who knows?”

  “So what are you going to do to me?”

  “I don’t think you will tell anyone my secret. I will let you go.”

  “Are you going to make me a Vampire?”

  “No, never again will I condemn anyone to my fate. It is not worth it. You would end up hating me.”

  “I can’t imagine I could ever hate you. Even last night I was terrified of you but I didn’t hate you. I want to experience what you have experienced to live a life of eternal youth.”

  “You think that now, but with every power I have comes a weakness. Who knows how this curse would affect you, and I certainly do not want to find out. Anyway, I have stayed long enough. I have to go home. I am tired and Vlad will be missing me.”

  “You can stay here.”

  “No. Vlad would look for me and you should be careful, for I am amazed he
has not killed you yet.”

  “I am not afraid of him.”

  “You should be!” With this Isabella left.

  Vlad, who was watching from the street corner, saw who was bidding her farewell. He raced home and was there before Isabella arrived.

  “Did you find him?” Vlad asked when Isabella arrived home.

  “What makes you think it was a he?”

  “Was it not?”

  “No, it was a woman,” Isabella lied.

  “Did you find her?”

  “I did.”

  “So nothing to worry about.”

  “Nothing at all,” Isabella confirmed.

  Vlad was hurt by Isabella’s lies but he knew that if he had let her know that he was hurt, she would become overprotective of Kit to save him from any danger. Vlad feared that Isabella would turn him. He knew that Kit was not a Vampire yet. Vampires had a certain smell or way of moving, a look about them that is the only distinguishable to other Vampires. Kit was still human and if he was human he would be easy to kill. But he had to be careful. He could not kill Kit openly. He would have to be discreet or Isabella would leave again. He would form a plan to kill Kit without letting anyone know that he wanted him dead.

  Vlad would have to be as manipulative and cunning as Isabella could be in order to get rid of Kit, and he was more than capable. He started to ask around about him. Kit frequented the most disreputable of places. He was outspoken and had annoyed a great deal of people, including Francis Walsingham, one of the queen’s advisors whose death a few years ago had probably saved Kit from harm. He had friends in the government who sometimes had been accused of treachery against the Queen. He had also annoyed his own peers, writers and actors. His extravagance and self-professed talent irritated and annoyed his fellow artists, especially since they could not say he was not talented. He was a member of the “School of Night,” a secret society that was already accused of treason.

  Vlad thought it would be easy to trick Isabella into believing someone else killed Kit, given that he had so many enemies. In fact, Vlad was amazed that Kit had lived this long. His greatest crime was refusing to take holy orders during his degree—all rumours of Kit’s heresy and treason sparked from this. Religion was such an emotive topic; this was what Vlad decided he would use to kill him.