Kiss of the Butterfly

by James Lyon

  ‘Faster!’ Steven shouted. ‘And turn on your headlights or we’ll hit something!’

  Bear accelerated, pushing the Yugo to its limits as they raced towards the fortress gate.

  ‘Drive down to Wasserstadt!’ Steven said. ‘I’ll show you where.’

  As Bear gunned the old Yugo down the bumpy cobblestone road towards the bottom of the hill a column of black SUVs raced up the hill directly towards them, blue lights flashing through their grills, followed by old blue Zastava police cars with rotating lights.

  ‘We’re dead!’ said Bear.

  But the SUVs ignored Bear’s battered old Yugo and continued up the hill onto the fortress.

  ‘Faster!’ cried Steven.

  ‘It’s going as fast as it can. It’s a Yugo, not a Lamborghini!’

  At the bottom of the hill Bear made a quick left and trod heavily on the gas, the small motor racing at top speed.

  ‘The cop’s coming down the hill,’ Steven said looking back. ‘I can see his lights.’

  As Bear steered the old Yugo through the Belgrade gate into Wasserstadt the police light disappeared from view. He quickly swung into a narrow side street and cut the motor and lights. Both he and Steven ducked down and waited. After 20 anxious seconds, flashing blue lights illuminated the surrounding buildings. When they had passed, Bear sat up, and then immediately ducked again, pushing Steven down, as more flashing blue lights appeared and then disappeared.

  And then the road was clear.

  * * *

  Interlude X: Belgrade: 17 May 1992

  Ten sat on the terrace of the White Palace in the leafy Belgrade suburb of Dedinje, enjoying the view across a still-dark valley in the waning hours before dawn as Igor played a mournful tune on his accordion.

  ‘Where is she?’ demanded Rastko, the doctor from Montenegro, dressed in the garb of a New Age mystic. ‘She’s kept us waiting all night.’

  ‘She will come,’ said Tarik, now a secret policeman for the Bosnian government. ‘Have patience. What do you have that’s so urgent? Naptime?’ The others chuckled.

  ‘Screw you,’ Rastko replied.

  ‘I have something new regarding the Vlach,’ Lynx said.

  They all looked at him.

  ‘I have a hostage who claims he knows his whereabouts. I’ll let you know if he has anything useful.’

  ‘You know how many of these false alarms we’ve had,’ muttered Mihailo, fingering the reading glasses on his nose.

  ‘Yes, but this one knew what I wanted before I asked.’

  A large glass-paneled door swung open and Natalija walked onto the terrace.

  ‘You’re late,’ said Rastko.

  Lynx jumped to her defense, his baby face glistening. ‘Shut up,’ he growled. He stroked a baby wolf on a leash by his side.

  ‘We’re eleven,’ said Stanko, now a DB official. ‘Tell us what happened.’

  ‘Our secret is discovered,’ said Natalija.

  There was an uproar among the eleven as they hurled questions at her in rapid order. ‘What? How did this happen? Who? Didn’t we cover our tracks…’

  ‘Stop, stop! One at a time,’ Natalija’s manner was haughty, as though born to privilege. ‘Let me tell you what we know. It started with a university student from America…he claimed to be here to study ethnography, but he showed an unhealthy interest in Djordjevic’s works and we had to cover our tracks and remove the book.’

  ‘And the librarian,’ added Igor, now attired in the uniform of a Croatian Army general.

  ‘And her son,’ exhaled Mihailo.

  ‘We thought that was the end, until the bookstore owner became too nosey. So we had to deal with him. But the American still kept poking his nose in things, so Stojadinovic lured him and his friends into the Labyrinth. Somehow the American had a complete map of the underground. I don’t know where he got it, but he had it. He found the upper entrance to the chamber and he knew how to manipulate the lock. He carries a Hawthorne stake.’ This last remark caused another uproar and looks of consternation.

  ‘May I continue?’ she asked. ‘Yes, a Hawthorne stake. It looked old, as though used many times. I need not remind you that such a weapon gains power with each kill. He impaled Stojadinovic…Wait, wait…Stop talking… He killed Stojadinovic…and knew to cut off his head. He has taken it with him and I assume he has burned it. Prior to killing him he took his shroud and taunted him, then burned it. He clearly knows what he is doing.’

  ‘No!’ Ivan said, shocked.

  ‘You shouldn’t have let Stojadinovic have the bookstore owner,’ said Branko, wearing the uniform of a general in the JNA. ‘He was too crude and hungry. He lacked talent. That is the problem with young…’

  ‘Let me finish,’ Natalija said. ‘Stojadinovic drained one of the girls, and I started on another, but she still lives…her blood calls me and I must finish her.’

  The others nodded in assent.

  ‘But who are they? Who is this American?’ asked Stanko. ‘Is he a vampirovic?’

  ‘I think not, otherwise he would have discerned Stojadinovic long ago and killed him. But he has discovered our secret and is dangerous.’

  ‘Who sent him?’ Stanko asked. ‘How did he come to this knowledge?’

  ‘I am uncertain. Stojadinovic thought the American was getting instructions from his professor in America, so if you can have your DB look into that it will help. I don’t yet have the professor’s name, but we’ll find out. Go to the university and the apartment where the American lived and find out where he is and who he associated with. We must hunt them down.’

  All nodded their assent.

  ‘Is the Venetian behind this?’ asked Lynx.

  ‘We’ve had no sign of him or his Order since we broke free,’ answered Branko. I can’t imagine he is still alive, but then again, a vampirovic is immortal, unless he fell in love in the meantime…’

  ‘Which would be exactly like him,’ snapped Natalija.

  ‘What do you think, Natalija,’ asked Lazar, who until now had remained silent. As he stood an SPS party lapel pin glistened in the moonlight against his expensive Italian suit. ‘You know him best. Is the Venetian behind this?’

  ‘Somehow, the American knows my name and…please, calm down! Only Marko could have told him this. So there is no doubt that Marko is behind it. The question is how? I know Marko and the way he operates. It is so like him to send someone in his place. If it is Marko, he will remain in hiding until the end and will never expose himself unless absolutely necessary.’ She looked around the group intently as the sky began to show the first streak of grey on the horizon.

  ‘We must smoke him out,’ said Stanko, a large Cuban cigar and a snifter of cognac in his hands. ‘You must set a trap.’

  She nodded.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THE HILLTOP GRAVE

  Novi Sad, Sremski Karlovci, Belgrade: 16-18 May 1992

  Mrs. Lazarevic clapped a hand over her mouth when she saw Steven and Bear carrying the girls, but quickly ushered them in.

  ‘Vampires,’ Steven blurted as he carried Vesna in his arms. ‘We were attacked by vampires in the tunnels.’

  ‘Dear Lord have mercy! Place the girls there,’ she motioned them towards the sofas in the sitting room. ‘And this one?’ she looked at Tamara and saw the remains of her savaged throat.

  ‘She’s dead,’ Bear intoned emotionlessly.

  ‘Oh no, poor thing,’ she exclaimed, rushing to help Bear with Tamara. ‘What happened?’

  ‘Stojadinovic was a vampire,’ Steven panted, out of breath. ‘And he had help…from Natalija.’

  ‘Natalija? She was there?’ Mrs. Lazarevic gasped. ‘Then they have escaped. I should never have let you go down there. Were you followed?’

  ‘No. We got away. They killed Mr. Niedermeier,’ Steven continued, flustered. ‘We found his body down there…then we had to run…the police and DB are after us…we’re in big trouble.’

  ‘What about the girls?’ Bear interjected g
ruffly.

  ‘Leave them to me. Steven, go clean up immediately! You too, young man, whatever your name is!’

  ‘This is Bear, my friend,’ he said. ‘Can we help?’

  ‘Go clean up!’ She ordered. ‘This is my job and you know nothing about it.’

  ‘Do you have a grill? I need to burn something.’

  ‘Pardon me?’

  Steven dumped Stojadinovic’s head onto the sitting room table and watched it roll across the white lace tablecloth, splattering behind it a trail of gore and body fluids, its eyes open and alert. Mrs. Lazarevic started at the sight.

  ‘Not on my good tablecloth!’ she shouted angrily. ‘My Rade always ruined my tablecloths like that, and I won’t have you doing the same. Take it down to the cellar immediately! There is a furnace my Rade used for that sort of thing. You will find wood and coal. Then wash off in the downstairs bathroom!’ she ordered, as though severed vampire heads rolled across her sitting room table every day. ‘We shall discuss this when you return. Now go!’

  * * *

  The furnace sat in a corner of the vaulted brick basement, its mouth gaping open, waiting to be fed. They tossed wood inside, started the blaze, and placed coal on it. When they were satisfied the temperature was hot enough, Steven pulled Stojadinovic’s head from his backpack by the hair. At once the head cried out: ‘No, not that. Please, I beg you. If you kill me they’ll only come after you.’

  ‘Shut up,’ Bear said, now clearly enraged.

  ‘It’s not my fault. I didn’t want to become a vampire. You must believe me,’ he pleaded. ‘I’m really not like the others. I died two years ago…had a heart attack and my family didn’t protect my bed while I lay waiting to be buried. It’s not my fault.’

  Steven looked at him skeptically. Bear approached and knocked the head from Steven’s hand with a blow that sent it spinning across the dirty floor into a corner.

  ‘You son of a bitch! You killed Tamara! And now you want to make good?’

  ‘I’ll give you anything you ask,’ Stojadinovic’s voice was muffled, his head mouth-down on the floor. ‘I have money. I know where the others keep their treasure.’

  ‘Treasure?!’ shouted Bear. ‘Treasure won’t bring Tamara back.’ He kicked the head into the wall.

  ‘Careful,’ Steven said.

  ‘Ow,’ Stojadinovic whimpered, ‘that hurts! Great treasure, hidden by the Twelve throughout the ages. I can lead you to it. Gold, gems and silver. They’ve even added bearer bonds and cash…lots of German Marks, Swiss Francs, British Pounds...You could be fabulously wealthy.’

  ‘Listen, you slimy low-life,’ Bear followed the head across the room. ‘I’m going to stomp you to death.’

  ‘Won’t work…you’ve got to burn him,’ said Steven, his voice cold as he nudged the head gingerly with his foot.

  ‘You think everything has a price, huh?’ Bear said. ‘You can’t pay for human life.’

  ‘Really, I can make you rich,’ Stojadinovic pleaded. ‘I can lead you to treasure.’

  ‘And what do we have to do to get it?’ Bear asked.

  ‘Simply return my head to my body. Then I’ll lead you to it.’

  ‘First you tell us.’ Bear drew his leg back as though readying to kick again.

  ‘Stop! If I tell you first, then you’ll kill me and take the treasure. You have nothing to fear from me. You have already burned my shroud…I’m powerless.’

  ‘But you killed Tamara.’ Bear said.

  ‘Yeah, and Vesna.’ added Steven.

  ‘They made me do it. I didn’t want to. They made me. I have the power to bring your girlfriends back, both of them. Don’t you want them back?’

  ‘How?’ Bear asked skeptically. ‘We burned your shroud. You yourself just said you have no more power left.’

  ‘I can’t believe we’re talking to a head,’ Steven said. ‘Anyway, he’s lying!

  ‘How about eternal life,’ cried Stojadinovic. ‘Immortality? I can offer you…’ and then he screamed horrifically as Bear picked him up and tossed him through the open door into the maw of the furnace. Stojadinovic’s shrieking head landed with a splash of sparks on the bed of coals and began melting, the hair and skin dripping and burning away as though made of flammable gelatin. In less than half a minute the head was gone and the drippings burned off.

  Steven and Bear looked at the furnace for some time before Bear said: ‘it’s hot in here. Let’s wash up.’

  * * *

  They looked in the mirror of the large white-tiled downstairs utility bathroom. Bear was covered in mud, his hair and face streaked with sweat. Steven’s arms and chest still bled from the gashes left by the werewolf’s claws and he rubbed his hands over his hair, face and beard, trying to remove traces of Stojadinovic’s blood and the mud of the tunnels. It was clear why Mrs. Lazarevic had been shocked by their appearance.

  Bear sat on the toilet seat and watched silently as Steven began washing his face. ‘You owe me answers…you knew there were vampires...you brought a stake…ate garlic. You came prepared. Why didn’t you tell us? Tamara’s dead and Vesna’s going to die and they’ll both turn into vampires. What the hell’s going on?’

  Steven continued washing without answering.

  ‘I can’t believe it…vampires…are we on drugs?’ Bear asked.

  Steven remained silent as he looked in the mirror and tried to figure out what had happened over the past few hours, unable to believe that vampires actually existed. Even when confronted with proof, it still seemed so incredible as to defy reason. Had he actually killed one? And with a stake? Even now the thought sent shivers down his spine.

  ‘Come on,’ Bear prodded. ‘You’ve been Mr. Vampire since you came to Belgrade. You killed Stojadinovic like a pro. What are you, a vampire slayer? I mean Tamara’s dead, for God’s sake. She’s dead.’

  Steven turned to face Bear. ‘A vampire-hunter? Me? Hah! Do you really think I know what the hell I’m doing? I’m definitely not a vampire-hunter…or maybe now I am…I don’t know any more. What I’m trying to say is that I’m still trying to figure it all out.’

  ‘Stefan, those were real vampires!’ Bear said adamantly. ‘Stojadinovic changed into a werewolf and the other one changed into a butterfly.’

  ‘Yeah, I saw,’ Steven agreed as he sat on the edge of the bathtub. ‘But was it wrong for me to kill Stojadinovic? I mean…I killed someone.’

  ‘Are you kidding me?’ Bear sputtered. ‘He killed Tamara, he tried to kill us, he was a vampire and a werewolf…it was self defense.’

  Steven looked at him for a long while. ‘I‘ll tell you what I know, but first you’ve got to promise you won’t say a word. To anyone.’

  Bear grunted affirmatively.

  ‘No, say it. Promise.’

  ‘I promise.’

  Then Steven told him about the Order of the Dragon, Slatina and the twelve vampires. ‘When I came to Yugoslavia I didn’t have a clue what I was getting into. I honestly didn’t think we’d find vampires down there. They told me it was safe. And I had absolutely no idea about Stojadinovic.’

  ‘You’ve got to be kiddin’ me,’ Bear exclaimed. ‘Twelve vampires?’

  ‘Yeah, that’s what Slatina said. You saw Stojadinovic. You saw what happened to Tamara and Vesna. You saw Stojadinovic’s head. We’re mixed up in something really big, and I don’t have any idea what to do or where it’s going to take us.’

  ‘I can’t believe it…this is crazy…but it does explain what’s going on right now in Yugoslavia,’ Bear exhaled, looking Steven in the eyes. ‘Are you a member’?

  ‘Of the Order? No. It’s fallen apart. But I think they may restart it.’

  ‘I want to join.’ Bear said suddenly. ‘I want to avenge Tamara.’ He stood up. ‘Give me the soap.’

  * * *

  Mrs. Lazarevic sat next to Vesna’s limp figure and tenderly rubbed salve into the wound on her throat with one hand; in the other she held Vesna’s hand as she half-chanted, half-sung in an obscure tong
ue. Three candles on the table cast amorphous shadows on the wall above the sofa. Mrs. Lazarevic ignored Bear and Steven as they entered.

  ‘Where’s Tamara?’ Bear asked softly.

  Mrs. Lazarevic turned and fixed him with a stare that indicated silence was in order, and then gestured with her head towards the back rooms.

  Bear found Tamara in a bedroom, arms folded peacefully across her chest with a cross in her hands, large gold coins over her eyes. Mrs. Lazarevic had wrapped a white scarf around Tamara’s neck to cover the wound and placed herbs on it, but blood had begun to seep through. An icon sat above her head and small wood carvings had been placed around the room as wards. Bear stepped over the makeshift barrier of tables, chairs and chests that had been constructed around Tamara, then fell on her body and began to sob uncontrollably. Over and over he asked her forgiveness, professed his undying love and vowed to avenge her death. He then began to sing lullabies.

  In the sitting room Mrs. Lazarevic placed Vesna’s hand in Steven’s and continued chanting, while the sound of Bear’s lament drifted in from the other room.

  Mrs. Lazarevic taught Steven the words to the chant and said: ‘You must keep repeating that.’ She stood and walked to her china cabinet, removed glass jars filled with herbs and grasses, opened several, sprinkled their contents gently on Vesna’s throat, and rubbed them into the wound. The puncture marks glowed red and angry against Vesna’s pale skin.

  Vesna moaned softly, then opened her eyes and looked at Steven with a vacant stare, as though unable to focus. Her mouth tried to form words, but no sound emerged. He leaned closer and whispered ‘Vesna, please come back.’

  ‘Stefan…’ she whispered in barely audible tones.

  Steven took her hand and kissed her gently on the forehead.

  ‘Vesna…I’ve been…are you all right? I’ve been so worried.’