by E. C. Hibbs
“Are you sure?”
I nodded. My expression must have been stronger than I thought, because Frank sighed heavily, then grabbed himself a glass and filled it with water. The two of us absent-mindedly drank at the same time.
“Alright,” he sighed. “They do kill. When they feed, they don’t keep to the little-and-often approach that the harmless use. Sometimes, they take a human and kill them on the spot for blood. But usually, they’ll tend to pick one person, and then keep them alive for as long as it takes to... to drain them dry.”
Lucy’s face – contorted into a scream of terror – seared behind my eyes and I shuddered.
“Frank?”
His brows lowered in concern. “Are you okay?”
I nodded stiffly. “Can they go out in the day?”
Frank glanced at the clock; then stooped down to open the oven door. He set the chicken down on the draining board beside the sink, and peeled back the foil before sticking a knife into the meat to check it was thoroughly cooked.
“No,” he replied, placing half a breast each on the two plates. I started when I noticed how his knuckles had suddenly gone white on the knife hilt. “No, they can’t. Ultraviolet light’s not much to us two, but it’ll kill demons if they’re exposed to it for too long. That, and the classic stake through the heart, are the only certain way to get rid of them, as long as you follow it up with something else specific to them in question – some other extermination method.”
I helped to dry the excess oil off the chips and we headed into the living room. Frank brought my plate in first on a lap tray, and handed it over once I’d sat down on the couch, before returning to the kitchen for his own. The food smelled wonderful, but my stomach had turned over. I wasn’t sure of how much I would be able to swallow – especially since the water hadn’t completely removed the taste of somebody else’s blood from my mouth.
“How do you know all of this stuff about them?” I asked, sprinkling salt over my chips in a half-hearted attempt to convince myself they could be appetising. “Have you ever seen one?”
He didn’t answer straightaway, but when he did, his words were thick. “Hanna told me. She knew about them all. And she’d seen a couple before she turned me; I know she definitely did sometime when she was in Romania. She went there a few times with her father, Wilhelm – he was the man in the wheelchair I told you about; he was her turner. That wasn’t a Nosferatu, it was a... Strigoi, I think.”
I coughed, only just managing to swallow the piece of chicken in my mouth before I choked on it. “A Strigoi?”
I recognised that name from theology, from when we were studying entities – as well as Nosferatu. Everybody knew that one. It was so synonymous with the general term of a vampire that you could pretty much use the two interchangeably, and people would still have a good idea of what you were talking about. With a chill, I realised that those terms had been part of the exact same class in which we’d covered Lidérc.
Frank nodded. “The demonic ones come in different types, which deviate a bit from the basic vampire qualities that they all share. Some won’t be able to cross running water or enter a house without permission... you know what I mean? The exact type varies slightly depending on their country of origin, but every vampire-related name you’ve heard of is most probably a type of demon. A harmless or a juvenile can live anywhere, but no demon could. If a Strigoi tried to cross the border out of Romania, then it wouldn’t survive. Nosferatu might have a better chance, because they’re so well known, but it generally holds that they need the belief of their home culture as much as human blood.”
He paused. “Well, I wouldn’t be surprised if every demon in existence could survive in North America; there are so many world cultures over there.”
I couldn’t help but smile, although I kept quiet. So I’d been correct in my thinking all along. A frantic guess at some kind of protection had apparently been the best route I could have taken. I definitely couldn’t be followed. I allowed myself a bout of silent congratulation, but then caught Frank looking at me.
“Was yours an Izcacus?” he asked. “That’s Hungarian, right?”
I was startled to hear him say that word – another we’d researched in the class – given the limited Hungarian-based conversation I could make with him. He knew about as much as a committed tourist, who might have learned how to greet and ask basic questions before arriving on their vacation. But I supposed he might have picked up a few strange names of the different demons from Hanna. When I thought about it, he probably knew really obscure ones from Asia and Africa too.
I was impressed that he knew Izcacus, but realised that it might be the one he’d think of. It was certainly more vampire-like than a Lidérc at first glance: its very name meant ‘blood drinker’. It was obvious.
I shook my head and hesitated, chewing on the end of a chip and then sucking out the soft potato from inside. I thought of the chamber underneath the dead earth of the cemetery, the floor far beneath me as the two of us stared each other down. In the darkness of the fading night, snow drifted faintly from the hole in the ceiling.
So that was how he was what he’d become, I thought. Turned without permission, and left alone to struggle through coming of age, leaving humanity behind.
For a split second, I felt remorse. But then I pushed it away, as his teeth flashed in my memory.
It doesn’t matter about who he might have been. What matters is what he is, and what he’s done to so many unfortunates just like Lucy. What he’s done to you.
I collected myself and glanced at Frank. “Did Hanna ever tell you about Lidérc?”
He frowned, and I could see him searching through his own mind, but then he shook his head. “No. I don’t think so.”
I nodded. “I thought it might be a bit obscure.”
Frank set his plate down on the floor next to the couch and turned to face me fully. “Tell me about him,” he said softly, “please.”
I noted that he had barely eaten either, and took the opportunity to move my own meal away. I hated to waste food, but was impressed that I’d managed what I had. I took a firm grip on my mind, and let myself form a picture of the creature.
“Well, he fits the profile that you said before. Fiery eyes; mist... but he had fingernails like bird talons.” I glanced at the meat on my plate. “According to the folklore, they’re linked to chickens, so I suppose that’s where it comes from. And his face is perfect. There’s not a fault. It’s like...” I paused, searching for a comparison, and found myself straying back to one of the books that I’d read not long after I’d arrived in London. “Like Dorian Gray’s face. Perfect.”
I took another sip of water, a faint smile playing on my lips. “But they have to disappear before the first crow of a cockerel at dawn. That worked in my favour the first time. I’d never been so grateful that one of my neighbours somehow kept chickens in the middle of Budapest.”
Frank had listened intently in silence, drinking up every detail. I imagined him cataloguing the information and adding it to his knowledge of the other types that he already knew; like a huge filing cabinet in his mind.
Yes, a filing cabinet would have fit him well, he was so tidy. Too tidy for a man to possibly be.
I was distracted from the tangent of my daydream by the way he was looking at me, as though in disbelief. The image of the black eyes flew back, but I held it at a mental arm’s length.
“What is it?” I asked.
He gently put his hand over mine. “The first time?” he repeated. “You met him more than once?”
I nodded. “Three times.”
Frank suddenly seemed at a loss for words and he rubbed his forehead hard. I pressed my lips together. He wasn’t usually like this, so agitated.
“I... I’ve never heard of anything like this happening before,” he admitted in the end. “I mean, it probably has at some point; but I’ve honestly never... demons just don’t get permission. If they turn anyone then they don’t care
. Demons make demons, harmless make harmless. That’s something Hanna mentioned to me.”
He shook his head gently. “Bee, I know it’s hard for you, but you really should have told me all of this.”
I cast my eyes down and flicked my fingers together over the shaft of my cane. “But I was afraid.” I whispered, remembering the rigidness of my pocketknife in my back; the pain, and the exploding sound of blood rushing though my head. The rabbit-hole was all that surrounded me in my shadowy world of drugs and anguish, and that dreadful mist, sending blackness running through my veins.
I suddenly felt Frank’s hand on my cheek, and he turned my face towards him. He fixed me with a profound, penetrating gaze that I swore could see into the very depths of my being. But I let him. It was true, pure. Eyes just didn’t look like that; didn’t wrap you up and sweep you off your feet. Full of promise, to be there by your side, rocking you to sleep like a child, protecting you from everything that is bad in the world.
“Don’t be,” he said softly.
CHAPTER XVI
The summer seemed to last forever. Everything was crisp, as though freshly-painted, and the sky was like a glass dome. The school term ended, and there was an invasion of the streets by tourists and hectic children. You couldn’t turn your head in any direction without seeing the snaps of camera flashes. Living in a capital city, you get used to all that, but the amount of people I saw that summer seemed to outnumber anything I’d ever known in Budapest.
I knew what would be on everyone’s checklists, because I’d done it all myself when I’d arrived. London had lived up to my expectations, and anything else that I hadn’t done, I did with Frank. Every single place I’d already been to and snapped with my camera, he made seem like I was looking upon on them for the first time. He insisted on taking me aboard the London Eye at night, so I could see the city lights stretching away into the distance.
We even saw a play in the West End. It was maybe the most obvious of all the shows on offer: the Phantom of the Opera. When we’d entered, I felt a little tense, recollecting the musical’s place in my memory. But once it began, I fell into it as though I was seeing it with a new pair of eyes. It was absolutely electrifying – nothing like sitting in the cinema with a bucket of popcorn. My arms were covered in goose-bumps barely ten minutes in, and the initial anxiety became relief. I hadn’t watched the film for three and a half years, because it had come to represent everything that had happened. But it broke the ice, to be surrounded by the story and music once more, and it was another addition to the list of small miracles that Frank was working in my life.
Our co-workers at the Museum noticed that things were different between us. My manager, Danni, kept dropping hints in my direction about how things were going. She had eyes like a hawk. I had to agree with her on the front between me and Frank, though, because whatever it was, it was escalating.
I was overjoyed that Frank had asked me out, and I couldn’t believe that – on a mundane level – things had lasted for as long as they had. It was something I’d never imagined could happen. And it was perfect. Once – at one of those moments that hung in the air and branded themselves into your memory – I gazed at Frank, and looked really closely at his face. There were a line of freckles underneath his right eye, a small scar on his chin from his motorbike accident in Germany. It was nowhere near the chalky, emotionless face in my head. His was full of life and the love of it: a human face. And for all its human imperfections, it was perfect for me.
Over the summer, Frank became the mentor I could never have hoped to find or would have wanted in my turner. He taught me everything he knew, passing on the understanding that he himself had inherited years before. The demon’s words kept ringing in my head: that Frank would never substitute – and it even though I repulsed it, I did carry on longing for him, simply because he was my turner. But if it was impossible, then Frank came pretty close to achieving it, and filling that hole.
The most valuable of all his lessons was helping me to get a harness on my own mind, to effectively block the Lidérc from tormenting me. That hadn’t seemed possible before: as far as I was concerned, the monster would always be there. But Frank had explained to me that there was a way.
“Usually, it wouldn’t be the best thing, preventing a turner from making a mental link with their juvenile. But it is possible. And, given the circumstances, I’ll teach you how to do it,” he’d said.
He explained that turners, as full vampires, had the ability to mentally communicate with the juvenile they had bitten, as a way to maintain their bond. Because in most cases, turners and juveniles did stay together and became close, the mental linking was seen as important. But even though I still hadn’t revealed the full circumstances of my turning to Frank, he knew enough to realise that whatever they were, they transcended the basic ‘rules’. However, although the restriction prevented the demon from invading my private thoughts, it unfortunately didn’t stop the nightmares. They still came, like a swarm of locusts in my sleep.
One evening, Frank was with me at my flat, and I’d just finished talking to Anya and Apa. They had phoned me and we spent a good hour exchanging our own stories. I’d broken the news that I’d saved up enough for them to have their Anniversary in London, and Anya sounded on the verge of tears. I wished I could somehow reach over the phone lines and hug her.
As I put the handset back into the dock, I caught Frank watching me, with a strange glint in his eye. Then I noticed that they weren’t the usual emerald: they were shining red.
I leaned on my cane. “What is it?” I asked warily.
Frank sighed. “My unit stocks are almost gone, I’ve got enough to see us both through to next month, but that’s it. I need to go out and get some more.”
“Well, you can’t exactly just walk into a corner shop and ask for six plastic bags full of blood,” I noted, and a smile fleeted across his lips.
“True.”
“So what are you going to do?”
He got off the couch and came over to me. “I’ll just do what I’ve always done, and nip down to the hospital.”
I swallowed nervously. He’d never had to do this whilst we’d known each other – at least as fellow vampires, anyway. But yet he somehow managed to convince me to come with him. How I allowed myself to agree in effectively breaking into a hospital was beyond me. I’d never stolen anything in my life, nothing so much as a handful of sweets.
On the way, Frank told me that he didn’t take all of his supplies from the same hospital. Just like most other harmless vampires did with humans, it was a little-and-often way of moving. He never stole any more than he needed, and ensured that there were plenty of others for those who would be helped by them.
“After all, he said, “it’s true that you’re not potentially traumatising people by knocking them out and drinking from them. But you still have to think ahead to some person whose life might be saved by that unit you take.”
He led me into the corridors at visiting time, so we wouldn’t be stopped. But instead of moving towards the wards, he waited until a nurse made her way towards one of the staff doors. It was hung with a sign blaring out STRICTLY NO PUBLIC ACCESS in bright red letters. He glanced up and down the corridor to check no-one was around, then reached down and swept me off my feet.
“Mi a pokol?” I barked out.
“Ssh!” he hissed, cupping his hand over my mouth. The strange mist that shrouded his wings suddenly drifted around us. I felt my heart quicken and I switched to English.
“What the hell are you doing? Someone will see!”
“Be quiet!” He pressed his hand firmer on my lips, voice barely above a whisper. If I hadn’t been so close to him, I wouldn’t have heard. “Keep quiet. Keep your cane up, we have to move fast.”
Before I could do anything more, he ran down the corridor after the nurse, as silent as though his feet weren’t even touching the floor. I saw that they were, but still had to check and see that he wasn’t flying. But no
, there was no sign of his wings, just the mist. I clutched my cane tightly to my chest so that it was out of the way. The nurse opened the door to let herself through, and Frank slipped in behind her, just before she closed it. He stood aside, his back against the wall, red eyes on her. I stared too, past his thumb as it rested on my nose.
I thought: how can she not see us? How could you miss two fully-grown people standing right next to you?
The nurse turned and walked away, idly humming to herself. Frank stayed very still, watching her until she had disappeared around the corner; then slowly lifted his hand off my mouth.
“Keep quiet,” he whispered again as he moved briskly after the nurse, but then swerved and took a different direction. I lost track of the route, but he seemed to know it like the back of his hand. Then I reminded myself that if he’d been doing this for years on end, he would remember it from past visits. I just couldn’t understand how – as quiet as he somehow was – nobody seemed to see either of us. I ached to ask him what he was doing, but duly kept my mouth shut.
Eventually, he slipped through one final door and set me back on my feet. We were standing in what I could only describe as a huge walk-in fridge, filled with units of every blood type. The redness stood out starkly in the glow of fluorescent strips overhead.
Frank quickly filled the bag that he’d brought; carefully selecting the pouches in a way to make it look as though no-one had been in the room. He took five in total – almost half a year’s amount for the two of us – then zipped it up, slung it over his shoulder, and came back to me. I was prepared that time, so I didn’t squeal as he picked me up – and there was no need for him to gag me. I just held onto him as he returned the way we’d come, emerging back into the corridor outside the doors with the red sign.
He glimpsed the surroundings again and put me down. “See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he said, readjusting the bag strap from the way it had twisted on his shoulder. I stared at him as we began to walk away, each step so coolly placed that anyone who glanced over would have thought nothing had happened.