Tragic Silence

by E. C. Hibbs

  “Stop it,” he whispered in my ear, extraordinarily quiet. “Humans in the car, remember? I don’t want there to be any fewer by the time we get there.”

  It was a struggle, but eventually I did manage to regain control and kept my lips apart. Frank whipped my handkerchief out of my pocket, and I held it up to soak the worst of the blood. Usually whenever I’d bitten through my lip in the past, it had been shallow enough to stem reasonably fast, but this time, it seemed to take forever.

  Frank still had a hand on my arm, and he gazed at me sympathetically. I wondered if he’d been in as much pain when he’d started to come of age.

  I’d learned exactly how sharp my teeth were, but knew immediately that sometime between when I’d been at Michael’s and that moment in the taxi, they’d refined yet again. Blunt human teeth seemed like a distant memory. They were now the sharpest I’d ever felt – my canines in particular were like razors when the inside of my cheek accidentally brushed against one, and alarmingly longer, too. It was the venom starting to form: my body getting ready for when I’d become a full vampire, and have the ability to turn people if I’d wanted.

  But I never would be a full vampire. No matter which way the confrontation went, I would never know the feeling of wings.

  The city sped past the windows in a haze of dark sky and white snow. I stared out as we made our way along the familiar streets: places I’d known since childhood, which I could probably navigate with my eyes closed, and would never forget. The architecture and vibe that was so distinctly Hungarian flowed around us. Familiar smells and feelings washed over my mind. We passed a small park where Anya used to play with me; the old cinema where I’d gone with Lucy.

  I’d asked the driver to take us to a hotel, quite close to the Izabella Street complex. As we drew closer and closer, I tensed up, unable to believe I was back. The roads hadn’t changed at all. Even every single one of their individual characteristic bumps and potholes were exactly where and how I remembered them.

  I booked myself and Frank into a room together at the hotel, and then had to check Michael into a separate one on his behalf, because the woman behind the desk – like so many older Hungarians – didn’t speak English. We were placed just down the corridor from each other, and Michael disappeared into his room with a leaflet of essential Hungarian phrases that he’d picked up at the airport.

  Frank led me inside our quarters and helped me out of my coat before hanging it on the back of the door. “Well. Here we are.”

  I gave a small smile. “Yeah.”

  “Would you like a drink?” He looked around. “I wouldn’t get my hopes up for tea, though.”

  I couldn’t help but chuckle. “There’s a little cafe downstairs that does coffee and hot chocolate,” I told him.

  “Great,” he said, fishing his wallet out of his coat pocket. “Hot chocolate, then?”

  “It’s forró csokoládé,” I translated. “Not everyone here knows English. Or German, before you ask. Best to say that just in case.”

  Frank frowned. “Say it again.”

  I did – slowly – and he sounded it out before repeating it slightly faster. I nodded to tell him it was accurate enough, and he left for the cafe. As he closed the door, I heard him quietly muttering it under his breath from the corridor.

  I sighed and sat down on the bed, hooking my hands under my knee to lift it onto the mattress. My head hit the pillows and I bounced softly, letting my eyes close. All around, the air had seemed heavy ever since the plane touched down – like it was trapped in a giant centrifuge, or compressed into something similar to those special chambers that astronauts train in.

  I had a drink of water from the tap in the adjoining bathroom, to relieve my throat as best I could. The cut in my lip had stopped bleeding. I tried to remember the last time I’d had blood, and felt instantly relieved that Frank had stopped me in the taxi. It felt a little easier being in the room alone, with no humans within reach. Frank must have known my thirst had died down a little, because he wouldn’t have left me by myself if I was still craving.

  Before long, he returned with two steaming polythene cups of hot chocolate. I gulped it deeply. For the first time, I finished a hot drink before him, and he jokily told me that I’d been in England too long and the asbestos lips had finally infected me. Then he gave me both a huge shock and jolt of the sheerest relief when he reached into his bag, and tossed me a fresh unit of blood.

  “How the hell did you get this through customs?” I asked, staring at it as it rested in my lap.

  He smiled mischievously. “I shadowed it. Just whilst it was going through the x-ray machines.”

  I shook my head in bemusement, amazed that he’d managed to walk through two airports with a pint of blood in his bag.

  “Drink it all,” he told me. “Every drop.”

  I held the unit in my hands – which were beginning to tremble – and felt my eyes reddening. There was nowhere near enough to satisfy me, I knew that immediately. But it was blood, and it was right in front of me, and I could drink it.

  “But what about you?”

  “You’re coming of age, you need it all. I’ll be fine for another few weeks.”

  I sighed, but nevertheless broke the seal and stuck the rim between my teeth. The wonderful taste flowed through my mouth and I swallowed greedily, not even stopping for breath. With each swig, my throat calmed, and I gradually raised the bag up like a bottle of water, until the only redness left inside was from the stains against the plastic.

  “Thank you,” I said gratefully – and immediately noticed that I wasn’t wheezing as much.

  “No problem,” he replied, coming to sit next to me.

  I glanced at him, and chuckled. “You realise that’s the second unit that I’ve had in two days? That’d do me for almost half a year any other time!”

  Frank’s eyes shone. “Yeah, but this isn’t exactly any other time, is it?”

  I smiled and laid my head on his shoulder, gently running my fingers up and down my cane. He rested his cheek on the top of my head.

  “I can’t believe Michael followed us.”

  “I can. Now that I’ve calmed down.”

  I felt the muscles in his cheek tighten as he smiled. “Yes, you did look like a ticking bomb before!”

  His hand curled around my back and he placed it on my waist. I closed my eyes, and thought about how much of a co-incidence that it was: that I’d returned to Budapest with only a few months to spare for it being exactly four years to when it had all begun. Everything seemed the same: the snow outside was thick and heavy, and falling from the sky like feathery lace. As we sat together in the hotel, I heard the happy laughter of students on the road.

  Frank had told me that coming of age was never set in stone, with how long it might take. If it was the same amount of time for everyone, then there would be no need for the mental link between turner and juvenile. There would be no need to alert them if need be, because they would know, and would be sure to be at your side.

  I thought about my turner for the first time since leaving London. I saw his face in my mind: the black eyes and sly curve of his lips. The repulsive longing returned to my heart as I sat so close to him; closer than I’d been for two years. Every cell in my body seemed to be screaming, to want to run to him and give in, but I fought it with all my strength, and forced myself to feel the warmth of Frank’s body as he held me.

  I stared into those dark eyes in my mind. In the photo, they had been a light colour. The sepia had made it difficult to tell – but I remembered their true, blue colour, striking in his face. Now, there was no light: his irises were black holes. I watched the flames shine across the surface.

  What had happened to him? How had he been caught, sometime in 1875, in the bowels of the rainy alleyways – and struck down, presumed murdered, only to be struggling slowly through lonely years as a juvenile before transforming? Surviving the agony of solace, and coming of age to follow in the footsteps of that unkn
own demon, that had bitten him without permission?

  Frank told me that the more time that passed since their turning, the more their bodies were gradually stripped of humanity. They became empty parasitic shells that could only retain the point in their lives when they were bitten. I imagined what it must be like to have the ability to shapeshift, to manipulate fire, to live forever. Everything that a stereotypical, assumed vampire would be.

  No. I snapped myself back, blew the image away. I was not a demon and I never would be, and I was proud of it. I was me: Bee, and no-one and nothing else. If Lucy had taught me anything, then it was to be proud. Lucy, whose face bore so much in common with Mirriam’s.

  Somewhere in the four years since his disappearance and the Final Purge at Hattyúpatak, János Kálvin had come of age. In those four years, he had been swept up and almost forced across the border with the rest of the Lidérc, and the only reason he had escaped was because of Mirriam.

  I could allow the century he had spent as a demon since then to have some effect on his draining humanity, like Frank had told me would always happen with demons. But four years? That was how long it had been between his disappearance and the Final Purge. The thing that had been born János Kálvin had lured Mirriam to him with the shining light, taken her strength, and then escaped back into Hungary. His own wife; and the mother of his child.

  For all I thought I knew about the Lidérc, it hit me just how untrue that was. I made myself understand that it didn’t matter anymore what might have happened to him. All that mattered was where I stood. I wasn’t going to be dealing with Jonathan Calvin. I would be dealing with a demon, and I would treat him as such, the same as I had ever since we met.

  Time passed over Budapest. The twilight in the sky moved into full darkness, like a veil pulled across the city. I distantly began to hum the tune of Himnusz, and Frank put both arms around me, rocking me gently as he listened. I imagined the words in my head, singing them as loud as the choir in Saint Paul’s Cathedral. It differed from quite a few national anthems that I knew of, in that it wasn’t so much a proud song of a country’s successes and place in the world, but instead focused more as a humble prayer. Almost like acknowledging that the best was yet to come, and the Magyar people gently waited for their time to shine.

  I had never felt so proud to have the blood of my home country in my veins, but it couldn’t hold back the tears. For the first time, I cried about what was coming. The fear overwhelmed me, and though Frank held me tight, I couldn’t melt into him and be convinced everything would be alright. So I prayed, sending the lyrics up into the sky against the stream of snowflakes, and hoped that my silent voice would be heard.

  CHAPTER XXV

  Frank and I met up with Michael later on in the evening to have dinner in the café. It served mainly traditional Hungarian food, and I ordered on behalf of everybody. Michael had Lecsó: a mixed vegetable stew; and Frank tucked into a Pecsenye: a pork steak with cabbage. As night drew in, I began to lose my appetite, but Frank gently reminded me that I should have some normal food as well as blood. So I grudgingly picked at a small plate of Túrógombóc dumplings, relieved to recall just how small dinners were in Hungary. More emphasis was placed on lunch. It was the opposite of the London culture I had become immersed in, but it was a welcome return.

  I was equally relieved when I stepped outside our room and didn’t have such an overwhelming urge to bite into every neck that I saw. It was still painful, but nowhere near as bad, and keeping control was made much easier. I could tell I was managing better, too, because Frank hadn’t taken hold of me anywhere near as much as in the airport.

  I told Michael that Frank and I were going to Emily the next day. Michael wanted to get in touch with the police, but I firmly put my foot down. I didn’t tell him about what we were dealing with, but said enough to try and make him understand that the police could do nothing.

  “He’ll let Em out if I go to him,” I said. “It’s me he’s after, really.”

  Michael frowned. “So all this is just a trap?”

  “Yes.”

  He glanced down at the floor, and when he plucked up the courage to look me in the eye again, his face had changed. The hardened expression, that I’d seen ever since he’d come to check on me in the bedroom, had softened, like clay being smoothed out. I knew he suddenly understood, and his eyes filled with thanks. I think he realised what I was doing for Emily, that there was a very real chance I might not come back with her.

  “I... I don’t know what to say,” he muttered. “I’m so sorry.”

  “What for?” I asked, putting my hand on his shoulder.

  “For getting annoyed with you and stuff. I never thought I’d ever meet someone as spunky as you are, or as noble.”

  Noble? I rolled the word around in my head. I was noble?

  “And don’t deny it,” he said, “because then you’d be a bare-faced liar. I have absolutely no idea what’s going on here, Bee, but... I just cannot believe what you’re going to do. I think... no, I know it. You’re the most selfless person I know.”

  “I’m going to get Emily out,” I said simply – amazed at my own composure. “And that’s it.”

  “That’s it?” Michael repeated. “What if something happens to you?”

  “Then it happens to me, and not her.” I adjusted my weight on my cane and sighed deeply. When I spoke again, my voice was quiet. “I will not let her die the way Lucy did.”

  Michael’s eyes filled with tears and he suddenly threw his arms around me, almost knocking me off balance. It was a good thing there was a wall behind me and I hit that. He mumbled an apology, but didn’t let go, and I felt tears soaking into my top. I patted his back with my left hand, keeping my right one firmly on my cane. I’d gotten so used to the feeling of its support that I didn’t dare let go, even though I knew that Michael wouldn’t have let me fall.

  The strong, warm smell of the blood in his neck wormed into my nose, and I quickly turned my face away. “You know you shouldn’t have come,” I said, rather stiffly as I pushed the urge down.

  “But I did, and I don’t care.” He carefully let go and made sure I was steady before backing off. But I took hold of his shoulder again – firmer this time.

  “Michael, listen to me very carefully.” I hardened my tone, and looked deep into his eyes. “You cannot come with me. Under any circumstances, do you understand?”

  “Why?”

  “I will not have you in danger. There’s enough as it is. It’s going to be hard enough for me to get Emily out. I can’t be worrying about you.”

  Michael paused. “It’s only one man, though, right? I could take him. I swear I could, I’m stronger than I look. Seriously –” Aggression crept under his voice, and I saw him imagining ripping the unknown monster to shreds to rescue Emily. But I silenced him with a single look.

  “No,” I said sternly, choosing my words with care. “You’re right, it is only one man. But believe me, Michael, you can’t take him. He is so powerful. I promise you, Em will be alright, but even I don’t know if I’m going to be able to hold my own for too long.

  “But that’s not to say I’m going down without a fight. For as long as I’ve known how to, I think I’ve given him something of a run for his money. I’m not going to stop now.”

  Michael glanced at my cane doubtfully, and I raised my head. “What’s the matter?” I asked. “Don’t you think I can? Look at me.”

  I swallowed; then moved all of my weight to my left leg. I felt the feeling of weightlessness on the other one, and carefully lifted it off the ground, along with my cane. It wasn’t by much – only a few inches – but the sudden feeling of strength it gave me was amazing.

  I gently lowered myself back down after a few moments. “I’m a cripple. But I’m stronger than I look, too. And that’s why it has to be me. If nothing else – and forgetting everything else – I have an advantage just because I look so frail. This cane is my perfect mask.”

  When
I returned to my room, I went straight to the window and looked at the black sky outside. Frank and I tried to pass the time by me attempting to teach him a little more Hungarian – which turned into a game of him stating in a strange mix of English and German accents: “Sajnos nem beszélek Magyarul.”

  “I know you don’t speak Hungarian!” I laughed.

  He grinned mischievously. “Sajnos nem beszélek Magyarul!”

  I fell onto my back. The pillow tumbled over my face as my head hit the bottom of it, and I giggled, feeling tears in the corners of my eyes.

  “Sajnos nem beszélek –”

  “Becsuk megjelöl!” I snapped through my laughter.

  Frank paused and frowned at me. “What does that mean?”

  “It means shut up!”

  He looked almost thoughtful for a minute before he grinned. “Nem!”

  He pounced and began to tickle me, only stopping when I hit him with my cane. Then he collapsed at my side, shaking with chuckles. I let my head roll over so I was facing him.

  “You idiot,” I stated.

  His green eyes sparkled and he gently stroked my cheek. “Would you love me if I was anything else?”

  I had to stay quiet at that, but soon enough I glanced at the clock on the bedside table. Dread began to settle again, like I was sinking into an icy bath. I almost heard the silky snigger on the wind.

  “I told Michael we’re going tomorrow,” I said quietly.

  I felt Frank roll over so he could raise himself up on his elbow. “Good,” he replied. “It’s best he doesn’t come.”

  I nodded. “I know. I think he knows it, too. Well, I hope so anyway.”

  “Well, even if he doesn’t, there’s not much he can do, when we’re not even going tomorrow,” Frank reminded me.

  I sighed. For the first time, I had managed to pull off a lie. I wasn’t planning to face the demon the next day at all – I was going back that night. I wouldn’t have long until the heightened stage of coming of age would begin to drop once again, and before that happened, I had to get Emily.