by K R Hall
Sabrina smiled and nodded.
“What do you want to do this evening?” Sabrina asked, changing the subject.
“I hear there’s a nice dance club in town,” Benjamin suggested. “How about we put on our dancing shoes and check it out.”
“Great idea,” Sabrina said happily.
Benjamin wore a stylish, beige, slim-fit collared shirt with long sleeves, a plain textured gray blazer with a peak lapel collar, and gray slim-fit trousers with front pockets. He opted out of wearing a tie. Sabrina wore a wine-colored, lace sheath dress with tiny rhinestones and stylish black strappy sandals.
Marek drove them to the night club. Benjamin paid the cover charge and they slipped in among the crowd, making a beeline for one of the silver and red booths along the walls. Good vibes flowed through the club. Love was in the air and everyone was excited and ready to have a good time.
Benjamin weaved his way through the guys and girls like a pro, his smile more extensive than she had seen in ages. He was carrying their drinks, a whiskey for him and a Seagram’s and tonic for her. In the dim lighting of the club, all she saw was his high cheekbones and mischievous eyes. It was good to see him relax and enjoy himself before they had to attend the meetings in the morning.
Sabrina was ready to move with the music, hands in the air, body moving like an uncoiling rope. She danced in the dress like her hips were made to sway, the small rhinestones catching the disco ball light that twirled above, launching every shade of the rainbow into the darkness.
No one could see the dance floor— it was wall to wall people dancing to the club music. There didn’t seem to be any room for any more people on the dance floor, but, somehow, when they hit it, space magically opened. They danced— twisting, turning, holding hands as they changed sides. The pair were all grins, looking like idiots and they didn’t care. Inside, they were just happy— happy and more alive than they had been in a long time— the stresses from the battles with Pickens and his mercenary vampire army all forgotten for the night.
Benjamin felt the part of him that’d been hidden come out to play, to explore the vibe of the music and let his body go free. He saw Sabrina’s blue eyes sparkle like sapphires in her smiling face, and a dimple danced at the corner of her generous mouth. He leaned down and nibbled her bottom lip before getting lost in her kisses.
When Benjamin heard the music, he just had to move. He danced like no one was watching, but of course, they all were. He just didn’t care. He jived and boogied to the music like it was twenty years ago, every move a throwback to an era that had belonged to his teenage self. He’d never had a dance class, but he and his friends— Corbin, Jase, and Cade— had jived to music since their early teens, competing in the friendly way boys do to one-up each other. Now, he was a well-oiled machine on the dance floor. Anyone that could move like their limbs were half-liquid in perfect rhythm and still look strong was interesting. He was used to the attention, but he didn’t like it. They danced till they were ready to drop.
At the end of the night, they burst through the doors into the artificial glow of streetlamps, laughing and falling into the backseat of the car. Marek, as their designated driver, drove them to the villa. In the charcoal of almost-dawn, they arrived at the home and fell into bed, asleep before they had time to get frisky. Thank the goddess that shifters never got hangovers.
●●●
After quick showers and a light breakfast, Benjamin headed into the office on the main floor. The office was a vast room occupying the corner of the villa with floor-to-ceiling windows, giving views in two directions: one to the road and one toward the garden. The two remaining walls contained a door, a low bookshelf, and tasteful, inoffensive and expensively framed artwork.
In a state of half-organized clutter sat a desktop computer, a notebook lying open, a few pens lying on the papers, and a stack of papers sitting under a turtle-shaped paperweight.
He heard the soft clicks of Sabrina’s heels hitting the marble floor as she walked through the door. She greeted him with a small kiss then pulled out the journal and other research papers they had and handed them over to Benjamin. They had set up a long, conference-style table where they would be able to eat while looking at the books Geofri Munteanu and his team would bring. The chef brought in a coffee urn, iced tea, and water for their guests. When he returned, he had trays of local cheeses, fresh vegetables, and finger sandwiches laid out attractively near the beverages on a side table. Delicate china cups and plates were added to the table as well as silverware and cloth napkins. It seemed a little much to Sabrina, but it was part of the Romanian culture, so she kept quiet.
Promptly at ten o’clock, just as the chef was finishing the final touches, the doorbell chimed. Sabrina felt a rush of panic. This was it. They would find the answers on how she would be able to stop Pickens once and for all.
Geofri and his team were shown to the office by one of the enforcers. When they all had entered, he made introductions.
“Good morning, my name is Geofri Munteanu, your cousin. Please allow me to introduce to you my colleagues. This is Willa, next is Vanda, next to her is Daria, next to Daria is her husband, Andrei, next to him is Dorin, and, finally, Neculai.”
“Good morning, Geofri. I’m Benjamin and this is my mate, Sabrina,” Benjamin began. “Standing next to the coffee is my head enforcer, Marek. The man guarding the door is Peter and the man standing next to him is Trey.”
“Please, feel free to partake in the refreshments before you get settled into your seats,” Sabrina said, gesturing to the table set with food.
Everyone spent the next few minutes getting beverages and something to eat then finding a comfortable swivel chair to sit around the long table. Benjamin waited until they had finished their midmorning refreshments before they started the meeting.
Chapter 3
Geofri explained that throughout history, several languages in the country were divided among Romanian, German, Ukrainian, Yiddish, and Polish. Most of the books and papers they had with them were written in Romanian and German, most having been translated to English over time.
Sabrina moved to the table and picked up the journal Libby’s brother Martin had given her. The journal belonged to one of Henrietta’s ancestors and was written in Romanian and German. Sabrina learned to read and speak German as a child. She also had the printout of the translations that Martin had hired someone to do. The book was old and heavy, the leather soft and delicate as she ran her fingers over the faded blue bindings. She fingered the gold lettering carefully before opening the cover, and paper rustled as she thumbed through the book to find what she was looking for. Words appeared and disappeared as her eyes flitted across the pages, quickly picking out anything of importance from the jumble of sentences that littered the world she had become immersed in.
A vampire hunter, more often than not, is described as having an astronomical knowledge of vampires and uses this to defeat them effectively. Some devote their entire lives to the annihilation of vampires; for others, it is just a strange hobby.
After skimming a few more pages, Sabrina stopped as something caught her eye and she read on.
A spell could consist of ritual action, a set of words, a verse, or any combination of these, many of which are archived in grimoires. Spells are bound by nature and can range from simple to complex, depending on the need of the casting witch. Nature demands balance, and, as such, every spell has a loophole, no matter what magic is used to cast the spell.
Sabrina paused in her reading when she heard the girls talking.
“What is that?” Daria asked, pointing to the book that Vanda was reading.
“It’s Daciana’s grimoire,” Vanda replied.
“A grim... what?” Daria asked in confusion. She had never seen a grimoire before.
“It’s a book of magic spells,” Willa said. “A textbook of magic, basically.”
“What’s the difference between a grimoire and a book of shadows?” Daria asked.
“The texts themselves are considered inherently magical and capable of healing or protecting the person carrying one,” Willa said.
“So, we could still find a book of shadows in these books and journals?” Daria asked.
“Exactly,” Vanda and Willa said at the same time.
“Okay, last question. Who was Daciana?” Daria asked.
“Daciana was the matriarch of the first and largest witch coven in Câmpulung Moldovenesc in the 15th century,” Neculai explained. “She was the most powerful witch in all of Romania and lived for over two hundred years. There may be a spell in here that would help Sabrina reach her bear and shift again.”
“It says here that the most opportune time for conjuring is on a Monday during a Full Moon, although any time is the time for magic,” Daria said. “Here is a spell to get rid of enemies.” Daria read off a list of supplies and ingredients, followed by the procedures. “Now, take the vial and go forth on a moonless night to an old cemetery. Hold the vial before you and see your enemy’s face therein. Recite this incantation:
“Here you reside, but through this spell, you quickly take your leave
“Remove your face from this place so I can now be free.
“Banished be for all time from me and all that’s mine
“I set you free instantly until the end of eternity
“Hurl the vial at the ground, making sure it breaks when it hits. Quickly walk away and do not look back and your enemy will soon disappear.”
“Do you think that will work on vampires, too?” asked Willa.
“It doesn’t say,” Daria replied. “I don’t think it could hurt. It also doesn’t say if you need to be close to your enemy, so maybe we can try it here.”
“Tomorrow night is only Wednesday. We will not be here on Monday,” Sabrina said.
Geofri stood from his recliner and moved to sit by Sabrina. He placed the journal he was reading on the table opened to the page he wanted to show her.
“Sabrina, it says here that if you wanted to be an effective hunter, you had to have been born on a Saturday. It was believed that if you were, you would have the ability to see vampires even when they were invisible to others,” Geofri began. “Vampire hunting is a family tradition or birthright. You will also need to learn how to astral project.”
“I was born on a Saturday,” Sabrina confirmed. “But how can I tell if a vampire is invisible to others, but only I can see it?”
“An invisible vampire will have a silver, cloud-like rim around its form,” Willa said.
“Okay. Why do I need to learn how to astral project?” Sabrina asked as she set down the journal, needing to distract her thoughts before she started to panic.
“The only way to get close to a vampire is to astral project. He cannot sense you approaching, so you can spy on Pickens and find out his plans and where his base is located.” Neculai said.
“Well, let’s slow down and go through these journals. There must be something in them that will help us kill Pickens,” Benjamin said.
“You’re right; we were getting ahead of ourselves,” said Geofri.
“It says here that a silver dagger dipped into a potion will kill a vampire. It doesn’t say which potion to use,” said Vanda. “I will look through the potions book and see if I can find one that will work with the silver dagger.”
“Does it have to be a special dagger? Does it have to be one-hundred percent sterling silver? Does it say anything about having special markings like runes on it?” Benjamin asked.
“I’m sure it must be made of pure silver,” Vanda began. “As far as markings or runes or any other specialty for the dagger, I have not come across anything stating so.”
The office was comfortably silent as everyone read the journals they had chosen. A short time later, the chef came in, bringing a light lunch.
The journal Willa picked up was bound in red leather, cracked and dry with age, the thin journal smelled faintly of dust. The pages within were brittle and what remained of the original stitching was barely holding it together.
Faint handwriting on the inside of the cover declared that the journal once belonged to Elisabeta Brinza Munteanu; likely one of Sabrina’s ancestors. The first page began in the middle of a sentence, suggesting that either some pages were missing or that there was another volume before this one; unfortunately, the journal’s poor condition made it impossible to tell which. The words were shifting right and left, the symbols dancing over the page.
Willa read: There are many legends about vampires that terrorized villages. For example, in 1582 from the town of Pentsch in the Czech Republic, a man named Johannes Contius died tragically. As he lay upon his bed, a black cat jumped up on him, which was considered to be a terrible, terrible omen.
He died at that moment, and after that, villagers were said to have seen him wandering around at night giving off a terrible and foul smell. Reports indicate that he tried to bite and eat people until the town decided to burn his body, cut it to pieces, and crushed it to ashes.
Then there is the story of the Countess Beatrice Batesole who was born in Transylvania in 1550. She was a woman of entitlement with money and good looks. Beatrice was obsessed with young women and would drink their blood to ensure that she remained young and beautiful. Eventually, an investigation was begun, and she was imprisoned.
A Serbian man named Pieter Blakemore crawled out of his grave in 1728 to return to his house to ask his son for food. The first night, the son satisfied him, but the second night, he refused. The next day, the local villagers discovered the gruesome sight. His son’s entire family had been brutally murdered, the vampire having drunk their blood. After that, legend says the vampire continued around the town, killing many villagers in the same way. Before every death, there were reports of having seen a vampire. When the constable of Belgrade dug up the man’s corpse, legend says that it was well preserved, not at all bad, yet covered in blood around the mouth.
“Hey guys listen to this,” Daria said. “How to kill a vampire with silver. The curse of silver began when the first man became a vampire. This happened when the goddess Artemis placed a curse on the first vampire so that his skin burned when he touched silver.
“Silver is easily portable so that it can be carried. Make sure it’s real, solid silver. A dagger or knife made of silver will kill a vampire if stabbed in the heart.
“Vampires, despite their enormous strength, cannot break a chain of silver, even if they tried. If you handcuff a vampire to a tree, using silver handcuffs, all you need to do is wait until sunrise the next day, and you would have yourself a fried vampire.”
“Daria, it would be challenging to handcuff a vampire to a tree,” Willa said.
“The metal can do many things, from channel magic to stopping evil— including warding off or harming vampires and werewolves,” Daria continued.
Sabrina noticed a notebook lying on the table next to a few scrolls, an ancient manuscript, and another block of stone with carvings too faint for her to read. She closed her eyes as she ran her hand over the notebook; she felt a gentle flow of strange tingling sensations. She thought it must be an ancient power of the runes. She leaned into Benjamin’s side, drawing strength from him.
Sabrina opened the aged book. It smelled warm and dusty, like the inside of an attic. The fragile old pages almost fell apart with the touch of her hand. Most people would have left this notebook without as much as a backward glance, but she was enthralled. She appreciated the beauty of an old book. It contained instructions and spells for bringing out inner animals for shapeshifting. Sabrina gasped, drawing Benjamin’s attention. He leaned closer so he could read with her.
“These look promising,” Sabrina said, trying not to get her hopes up.
“We can try these after we return home,” Benjamin said.
; “Can we try it here? What if they don’t work? All of the books and journals will remain here when we leave,” Sabrina said.
“I will talk with Geofri and see what he recommends,” Benjamin said.
Dorin picked up an old book that was bound in darkened leather; there was no telling how old it could be. It was withered in its old age. Someone in the past had ripped out pages and left a jagged-edged page. It held the past and would hold the future. He gently opened the book and began reading.
“Here’s something interesting,” Dorin began. “A little-known method of killing vampires is to somehow get them to ingest certain types of blood or inject it within them. The two kinds of blood known to kill a vampire in any quantity instantly are angel blood and sasquatch blood.”
“Right. There’s no such thing as Bigfoot and how would we get an angel to come down to Earth and give us their blood?” Willa said. “The odds of an angel taking physical form are beyond rare.”
“The holy cleansing blood of the angel will kill the supernatural vampire virus that is intertwined with its DNA. Angel blood only requires a few drops to kill. The same goes for dead human blood, which is also a poison to vampires. Tricking a vampire into drinking deceased human blood is probably the easiest termination by blood method there is, if the human just died recently,” Dorin read from the book he had.
“To call upon angels, close your eyes and take a deep, relaxing breath. Imagine a divine light all around you, filling you, raising your level of light and raising your awareness.
“Focus your consciousness on your heart and imagine your heart glowing with light and opening as your awareness raises. Become aware of your direct connection with the light, with the divine, and with all that is. Breathe, relax, and let your mindfulness lift.
“From this elevated state of love, light, and oneness say, ‘We now invoke the presence of the angels who can most serve us now as we tune into your love, support, and guidance,’” Dorin instructed as he read further from the book.