Kiss of the Butterfly

by James Lyon

  ‘Hurry!’ Bear said, his flashlight now flickering dimly.

  Steven quickly removed the stake. ‘We’ve got to kill Stojadinovic,’ he said grimly.

  They ran up the curved staircase, pulled the brick wall open and raced into the tunnel, Steven first, stake in hand. They came to the junction, turned left down Communication Gallery 500 and stopped, unprepared for what met them. There lay Tamara, Stojadinovic kneeling over her, gnawing the left side of her neck.

  ‘Get away from her you bastard!’ Bear shouted, unable to get around Steven in the narrow tunnel. Stojadinovic looked up, startled, as he wiped Tamara’s blood from his lips. He rose to his feet, his body bloated from feeding.

  ‘You think to challenge me while I feed? Do you not know what I am? Do you not fear my power?’

  In the gloom of the tunnel behind Stojadinovic a shadowy figure knelt over Vesna. Startled by the commotion it looked up. Its long raven hair framed a pale face and lips tinted red by Vesna’s blood. Steven thought he had seen the face before, but it couldn’t be…in a portrait on the wall of Slatina’s study in La Jolla…in his dreams…on the wall of Slatina’s house in Budapest…a woman whom Slatina married more than 300 years ago…a woman who should be dead…yet here she was, sucking the life from Vesna’s throat.

  ‘Natalija!’ blurted Steven in disbelief.

  Her red feline eyes blazed with shock at being recognized, then struck Steven with a gaze that rooted him to the spot. He was stunned by her beauty and something else, as she rose, slender and graceful. ‘Take them!’ she commanded in a hissing voice.

  Instantaneously Stojadinovic’s face elongated as long hair sprouted from his skin, until it metamorphosed into a blunt canine snout with glistening razor-sharp teeth in an open mouth. Thick fur covered his skin and his fingernails elongated and thickened to become sharp claws. His stature remained the same, but fur now protruded from his shirt collar and shirt cuffs. The mane of newly-sprouted fur nearly covered his red eyes.

  Steven froze as fear gripped his sinews and stopped his heart. Then something inside snapped and took control of him. As though propelled by an unseen power he rushed forward and grabbed the werewolf by the throat with his right hand. The suddenness of Steven’s charge took the lycanthrope by surprise, driving it backwards until it tripped over Tamara’s prostrate form and fell to the ground with Steven on top. Steven clenched it by the throat and raised his left hand high overhead, the stake ready to strike.

  Growling, Stojadinovic fought furiously, grabbed Steven’s left arm and stopped the stake from descending. His sharp claws ripped Steven’s shirt and flesh, leaving painful gashes on his arms and chest. But Stojadinovic, repelled by Steven’s garlicky stench, didn’t try to bite him. Flailing claws made it painful for Steven to maintain his hold on the werewolf’s throat, so he let go and jumped off.

  Stojadinovic arose and swatted at the stake, growling: ‘I’m going to disembowel you, boy!’ He then screamed in pain as his paw touched the Hawthorne wood of the stake and his fur sizzled.

  Steven parried the blow, wielding the stake rapier-like. He feinted a thrust, and as the werewolf lunged to swat it away, Steven kicked it firmly in the crotch. Stojadinovic dropped to his knees, clutched his groin with one hand and clawed blindly at Steven with the other, while emitting a horrible high-pitched yelp. The professor struggled to his feet and lashed out wildly. Steven feinted again with the stake, causing the hairy beast to step backwards towards the hole and lose his footing. As Stojadinovic teetered on the edge, paws wind-milling wildly, Steven thrust the stake at his chest. Sensing an opening, Steven quickly snatched Stojadinovic’s scarf with his right hand and pulled. The loose scarf slipped easily off the werewolf’s neck.

  The werewolf howled loudly and instantly transformed back into human shape. Steven thrust directly at Stojadinovic’s sternum. This time the stake penetrated the skin slightly, making a noise like a heated brand on cattle hide as smoke arose from the sizzling flesh. Stojadinovic screamed, stepped backwards, lost his footing, flailed his arms violently and toppled backward into the hole. There was a loud splash.

  Steven looked around for the female vampire, only to see an orange and black butterfly with white spots flutter upwards into a ventilation shaft. Was it the same one that had been at the tunnel entrance? Had she transformed into a butterfly?

  Behind him, Bear gently lifted Tamara’s head, cradled her in his arms and began to sing her a lullaby in between sobs, as he tenderly rocked her lifeless body. ‘You’ll be okay,’ he whispered, reassuring himself. ‘You’ll be okay.’

  Steven rushed to Vesna and felt her pale neck for a pulse, bent over her mouth and listened for breath. Nothing. The vampire had sucked all life from her. He hugged her as anguish and guilt harrowed up his soul for bringing his friends down here and exposing them to this horror. ‘Why didn’t I come alone,’ he asked himself. ‘Why’d I drag them down here with me? Why’d I do this to Vesna?’

  He stood, walked to the hole and shined the light down on the water to find that Stojadinovic had climbed into the casket with Niedermeier’s body. Upon seeing Steven he cried out: ‘My shawl! Give it back to me!’

  Steven looked at him coldly. ‘What’s it worth?’

  ‘Anything you desire, anything!’

  ‘Where’s Natalija?’ demanded Steven.

  ‘I can’t tell you.’ Stojadinovic wailed. ‘She’ll kill me if I do.’ There was fear in his eyes.

  ‘Who’s Natalija?’ Bear whispered.

  ‘I’ll kill you if you don’t,’ Steven threatened, ignoring Bear.

  ‘First give me my shawl. I’ll give you all my wealth.’

  ‘I’m not naïve.’ Steven sneered at Stojadinovic. ‘If I give you the shawl you’ll turn into a butterfly and fly away. Bear, have you got a cigarette lighter?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Bear handed him a silver Zippo. ‘Why?’

  Steven held the scarf above the hole for Stojadinovic to see, and then he lit the lighter and moved it close to the scarf. ‘Where’s Natalija?’ he demanded. ‘Tell me or I burn it.’

  ‘No, please, I beg of you. No,’ Stojadinovic implored. ‘Please stop. She’s at Debauchery. Go to Debauchery and ask for her. Please, don’t burn my shawl. Pleeeeease!’

  Steven looked at Bear. ‘What’s Debauchery?’

  ‘A night club.’

  Steven turned to Stojadinovic. ‘Where are the twelve?’

  ‘What twelve?’ Bear looked at Steven, bewildered.

  ‘Where are they?’ Steven repeated, ignoring Bear once again.

  ‘Nooo. Give me back my shawl. I told you where Natalija is. She’s one of them. Ask her.’

  Steven set the scarf alight, causing Stojadinovic to writhe and howl in the coffin. ‘Stop it. Stop it. Nooooooooo.’

  Stojadinovic’s scream sent chills through Steven’s and Bear’s hearts. When the shawl had burned nearly up to Steven’s fingertips, he dropped it and watched the last glowing remnants as they wafted towards the water.

  Steven looked at Bear and said: ‘He’s not going anywhere. Vampires suck in water.’ Stake in hand, Steven jumped feet-first through the hole, landing with a splash. He plunged deep under the water and when he broke the surface he saw Stojadinovic in the coffin only a few feet away, rocking in the waves. He quickly paddled towards the coffin, gripping the stake. Inside the professor lay weeping and trembling.

  Steven reached the edge of the coffin and grabbed the side for leverage. ‘Why’d you burn my burial shroud?’ Stojadinovic sobbed self-pityingly, immobilized by the trauma of his loss.

  ‘This is for Vesna and Tamara!’ shouted Steven angrily as he braced himself against the side of the coffin, raised his left hand and plunged the stake into Stojadinovic’s bloated chest and through his heart. As the sharpened wood met flesh, a large geyser of blood spurted upward and sprayed Steven’s face, while a column of smoke, ripe with the stench of seared flesh rose upward. Stojadinovic’s dying shriek echoed interminably and sent dust falling from the ceiling
, rippling the dark surface of the water. The Hawthorne tip had pierced the professor’s back and the rotted coffin bottom beneath.

  * * *

  ‘Stefan,’ Bear called down. ‘Are you all right?’

  Steven shuddered. Was he alright? He had just killed a man…if Stojadinovic could be called that. Or had he? Had he murdered Stojadinovic? Or a vampire? He struggled with what he had just done, still unable to believe vampires existed and that he had just killed one with a stake.

  ‘Stefan?’ Bear called again.

  Steven looked up and nodded, then looked back at Stojadinovic. ‘I’m not sure he’s dead,’ he called up to Bear.

  ‘Huh? What do you mean? You just drove a stake through his heart. He’s dead.’

  ‘Yeah, but all the folk tales say you have to cut off the head and burn it.’

  Bear’s eyes widened. ‘That’s sick.’

  ‘But what if he really is a vampire? What if the folk tales are right?’

  Bear shuddered. ‘Then do it. If the folk tales were right about the existence of vampires, then they’re right about how to kill them.’

  Steven began shaking from the cold and the trauma of killing a person that – until just a few moments ago – he had considered a friend and mentor. Yet he pulled a large knife from his backpack. ‘Just in case,’ Mrs. Lazarevic had said when handing it to him before he set out. ‘Just in case.’

  He flinched at the first cut, unable to watch. Then he sawed at Stojadinovic’s neck, cutting rapidly through the flesh. The knife sliced easily, but slowed when he came to the vertebrae in the neck.

  Steven hacked furiously, but the fresh human bone was resilient. Blood and scraps of flesh flew everywhere, coating Steven’s face, hands and clothing. He pulled Stojadinovic’s head back by the hair, stretched the neck, and then attacked a gap between two vertebrae. Finally the knife cut through and he held the head victoriously overhead, blood dripping from the severed jugular down his hand and sleeve to his shoulder. Steven withdrew the stake from Stojadinovic’s chest and placed it, along with the knife and head, into his backpack and swam from the chamber.

  Bear had placed both girls side by side and was kneeling over their pale bodies. Stojadinovic had savaged Tamara’s neck, leaving the jugular gaping open. In contrast, the female vampire had left Vesna with two small neat puncture marks.

  ‘They killed them,’ Bear said in shocked disbelief. ‘I can’t believe they killed them. Those were real vampires.’ And then he turned accusingly at Steven. ‘You knew about this, didn’t you? You knew vampires exist. You knew they’d be down here. That’s why you brought the stake and ate garlic, isn’t it? Answer me! How’d you know about the vampires?’

  ‘Bear, I don’t know...look, I’ll…I’ll explain later. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Let’s get out of here before they come back. Can you carry Tamara? I’ll get Vesna.’

  Bear picked up Tamara’s flashlight and looked around. ‘Are they coming back?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Steven. ‘But I don’t want to wait to find out.’

  Bear picked up Tamara with a grunt, tossed her over his shoulder and headed back the way they had come. ‘The door’s locked,’ he shouted as he reached the junction room.

  Steven picked up Vesna, slid her over one shoulder and turned to follow Bear. Her body felt cold and her muscles stiff. He walked with deliberation, trying to convince himself that he couldn’t have known…their tunnel expedition should have been simple and safe. Lost in these thoughts he felt a faint breath of warm air on his neck. Vesna moaned imperceptibly and then again a little louder.

  ‘She’s alive!’ Steven shouted. ‘I think she’s alive.’ He kissed her neck and whispered ‘don’t give up’ in her ear.

  Bear turned to see and smiled grimly. He placed Vesna’s head between his large hands and kissed her gently on the forehead. ‘How do we get out?’ he asked.

  ‘Stojadinovic didn’t have a map. He just learned about this place by wandering around. There’s a shorter way.’ Steven pulled out the waterlogged map. ‘Give me some light. My batteries are dying,’ he said.

  ‘Mine too,’ said Bear. ‘We need to conserve.’ He switched his off and pulled out his Zippo lighter. They pored over the map and decided on a direction.

  From the junction chamber Steven led them in the opposite direction of the secret door and through a maze of tunnels, using only one light to conserve batteries. Finally they came to a long tunnel that sloped upward. Steven and Bear sweated and struggled under their loads as they trudged up the slick, brick-strewn slope. They finally came to a junction with blue letters on the sign that told them they were on the third level.

  Steven was almost as large as Bear, yet carrying the girls through the narrow, cramped tunnels was tiring, as he had the added burden of Stojadinovic’s head and Slatina’s journal in his backpack. He had to keep shifting Vesna to consult his map, all while holding the stake. From the third level Steven found a direct tunnel up to the second, and then a stairwell to the first. As they stopped to rest, Bear grabbed Steven and motioned for silence. Both stood there, puffing.

  ‘Down here,’ a hard male voice called from a tunnel to the right.

  Steven motioned to Bear and both staggered into a bunker, hiding behind a wall with loopholes for muskets. They laid the girls on the floor and switched off their lights.

  ‘Where now?’ came another voice this time, nearer.

  ‘Keep going straight. They’re here somewhere.’ The two friends heard the heavy tread of boots approach their hiding place. ‘Keep your ears open. There are four of them…two guys and two chicks.’ The footsteps neared the bunker and light from flashlights flickered through the loopholes. From the sounds there were at least half a dozen.

  A low moan emerged from Vesna’s lips, and Steven quickly clamped his hand over her mouth.

  ‘Did you hear something?’ asked one of the men.

  ‘Yup, it’s probably a ghost,’ laughed another nervously.

  The light flickering through the firing ports illuminated Vesna’s face. Her eyes opened briefly and looked at Steven as she tried to form words with her mouth. But no sound emerged and she closed her eyes. Steven bent closer to her face until he could feel the faint breathing from her open mouth. She felt so cold.

  From the other side of the firing port came the sound of someone opening a metal lighter. ‘Cigarette break,’ said a voice. More lighters opened and closed and the smell of tobacco wafted into their hiding place.

  ‘What are these holes for?’ someone asked. ‘What’s behind them?’ An arm reached through one and fingers fluttered inches from Bear’s head. He flattened against the wall to avoid them.

  ‘They’re for firing muskets,’ another voice answered. A flashlight shone directly through one of the loopholes, illuminating the wall just above Steven’s head.

  ‘Let’s see what’s behind this…’

  ‘What the hell are you doing?’ a new voice interrupted. ‘Move your lazy asses down to level four. The boss wants those kids found. Now!’

  There was angry grumbling as boots stomped out cigarettes. One glowing cigarette flew through a loophole and landed on Vesna’s jeans leg, smoldering. The boots marched away heavily, accompanied by grumbling. ‘We don’t even have a map. Where are we going?’

  After the sounds had echoed away, Steven switched on his light, only to be met with a faint beam. ‘It’s dead,’ he muttered.

  Bear switched on his. It too flickered dimly and began to die. ‘Damn,’ he said, pulling out his Zippo.

  With Bear lighting the way, Steven led them along a tunnel in the opposite direction, which they followed for more than a hundred yards, with frequent stops for the lighter to cool off. They struggled up a sloping tunnel that turned into steep stairs. At the top of the stairs a large wooden door barred their way. Steven and Bear set down the girls and threw their shoulders into it, splintered the wood around the hinges and knocked the door down with a dull thud. Fresh air rushed at their
faces, and beyond the door they saw the night sky, lit by a brilliant full moon… and something else.

  A hundred and fifty meters away the headlights and revolving gumball of a dark blue Zastava police car illuminated five dark SUVs parked near the powder magazine of the St. Elisabeth bastion, near the main gate to the Labyrinth. A policeman stood guard, keeping back gawkers. Bear and Steven set the girls down and rested, watching as more police cars pulled up and discharged their occupants into the tunnel.

  ‘Where’s your car?’ Steven asked Bear.

  ‘Over there,’ Bear motioned in the opposite direction of the vehicles. Under cover of darkness they carried the girls to Bear’s Yugo and loaded them awkwardly into the back seat. Steven was about to get in when a very loud and bloodcurdling shriek came from inside the backpack.

  ‘Stop!! Stop!! You over there,’ the policeman at the tunnel entrance shouted. ‘Stay where you are!’

  ‘Drive,’ Steven yelled as he jumped in. The backpack shrieked again and Steven dealt it a heavy blow. The shrieking stopped.

  Bear stepped on the gas as the policeman came running towards the Yugo. The clutch wouldn’t engage and Bear jiggled the stick shift frantically. The policeman ran closer and drew his pistol. ‘Halt!’ he cried.

  Bear finally threw the car into gear and started forward, accelerating as quickly as the old Yugo could manage, bouncing across the grass. The policeman was gaining and he fired a shot, missing.

  ‘Go!’ shouted Steven.

  ‘Where?’ Bear shouted back. ‘Those SUVs mean we’re screwed.’

  The Yugo had reached gravel and was now putting distance between itself and the policeman, who stopped, out of breath and fired off several more shots, all missing the Yugo. He turned around and ran back towards his car.