Kiss of the Butterfly

by James Lyon

  ‘Just get to the landing at midnight,’ she answered calmly. ‘Marko will send someone to pick you up.’

  ‘Something doesn’t feel right about this,’ Steven muttered.

  ‘Tell me about it,’ said Bear. ‘We’re trying to escape from vampires by going to Romania.’

  * * *

  The next morning two military policemen walked into the main post office near the Federal Parliament in downtown Belgrade and asked to use a telephone booth. A crew cut and clean shave had removed Bear’s wild mane and bushy beard, making him a new man, while Steven too had received a crew cut, shaved his beard and colored his hair and eyebrows black. The uniforms and distinctive VP Military Police armbands made them feared figures, and people glanced away when they passed, especially military-age men. When Bear had asked Mrs. Lazarevic where she had gotten the uniforms, she had only smiled and said ‘Petrovaradin is a military town. If you live here long enough you make friends.’

  Steven placed the first call to North America. The connection took some time getting through, so he waited while Bear made a local call to Vesna’s parents.

  After a long while Bear emerged from the booth, sweat dripping down his face. ‘Her dad’s totally pissed off and her mom’s losing her mind. They promised not to call the cops ‘til we explain what’s going on, so we need to visit them. When we get there, let me do the talking.’

  Steven nodded.

  They took a taxi out to Vesna’s place and rang the buzzer. Her father opened it after the second ring and looked at them with surprise. ‘Yes,’ he smiled stiffly. ‘How may I help the Army do its patriotic duty today?’ His tone was cynical.

  ‘Mr. Glogovac, it’s me, Bear…and Stefan.’

  Mr. Glogovac’s jaw dropped as he stared in disbelief. ‘Teofil…what has happened to you? Nada, it’s them,’ he called loudly, ‘Simic and the American.’ He ushered them into the sitting room, where they remained standing.

  Mrs. Glogovac entered, furious. ‘Where is my Vesna?’ she demanded. ‘What have you done with her? I told you she shouldn’t get involved with a foreigner,’ she huffed at her husband. ‘I…oh!’ She started at their appearance.

  Bear interrupted. ‘Good day Mrs. Glogovac. Vesna is safe and recovering with a friend in…’

  ‘Recovering?’ shouted the mother. ‘Recovering from what? I want to see her now! What did you do to her?’

  ‘Where’s my daughter?’ the father bellowed, standing toe-to-toe with Steven, looking him in the eye.

  ‘Vesna’s fine. She’s doing well. But she’s not well enough to travel. She’s safe in Novi Sad and is…’ Steven said.

  ‘What happened to her?’ thundered the father.

  Bear looked at Steven, who nodded. He then looked Mr. Glogovac in the eye and said ‘She was attacked by a vampire in the tunnels under Petrovaradin.’

  ‘What?! Do you really expect us to believe some half-assed story like that? Where the hell is she?’

  ‘It’s the truth,’ Bear said. ‘He bit her in the neck and started sucking out her blood.’

  The mother whimpered and swooned.

  The next two hours consisted of tense explanations and heated exchanges with the parents, during which Vesna’s mother fainted twice more, the first time on hearing of Tamara’s death, the second on hearing the details of Stojadinovic’s. As Bear explained, Steven marveled at his coolness. Finally, after several shots of rakija for the father and some Xanax for the mother, Vesna’s parents calmed down and agreed not to call the police.

  Still, Mr. Glogovac remained skeptical. ‘You can’t really expect us to believe this vampire nonsense!’

  ‘When Vesna arrives tomorrow,’ Bear assured them, ‘she’ll tell you everything.’

  The father grumbled, shaking his head.

  ‘We think they only know who Steven is. If that’s the case, then we need to remain anonymous,’ said Bear. ‘But the police are in league with them, so whatever we do, we can’t let them know.’

  ‘Can we talk to her?’ pleaded the mother. ‘I need to hear her voice.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Bear. ‘But you must call from a post office in case your line is being tapped.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Now,’ said Bear. ‘I’ll come with you.’

  Steven waited with Vesna’s father while Bear left with the mother. He sat across from Mr. Glogovac, shifting nervously during the awkward silence. Finally, Mr. Glogovac spoke. ‘You know my daughter likes you, don’t you?’

  Steven looked him right in the eyes. ‘She’s a dear friend. I’ll do everything to protect her from evil. Everything.’

  The father looked at him skeptically.

  ‘Mrs. Lazarevic says that Vesna will be okay,’ Steven offered. ‘We just need to get her away from here so the vampires don’t find her again.’

  ‘You don’t really expect me to believe this vampire story, do you? What really happened?’

  Steven stood up, opened his backpack, pulled out the stake, its tip still fresh with Stojadinovic’s blood and handed it to Mr. Glogovac. ‘This is what I used.’

  Mr. Glogovac took it, hefted it, and examined it closely. He looked at Steven, then at the stake. ‘We have stories in our family of an ancestor who had one of these. Will you take her to America?’ Mr. Glogovac asked. ‘That’s a long way away, you know. We won’t be able to visit very often, especially with the war.’

  ‘I think we’re going to Budapest at first,’ Steven responded. ‘After that, I don’t know.’

  ‘You realize you are taking my daughter from me.’

  ‘I didn’t want this to happen to her or Tamara or us. But there’s nothing I can do now.’

  ‘This is all so ironic,’ the father muttered.

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘In olden times the groom would steal the bride and then send his best man to treat with the family and barter for the bride’s price. He would offer sugar, oranges, socks, towels, coffee, gold…this is all somehow strangely reminiscent of that.’

  ‘But we haven’t stolen Vesna…I mean…’ he blushed furiously.

  ‘You haven’t even offered to pay me for Vesna. She is worth much more than a kilo of oranges or some new socks or a kilo of coffee. How much will you give us for her?’

  Steven tensed, alarmed at the sudden turn the conversation had taken.

  ‘Relax, I’m joking,’ the father smiled grimly and slapped Steven on the shoulder. ‘Vesna is my only daughter. Take care of her. What is important is that she’s happy and safe. If something should happen to her I’ll hold you responsible and will not rest until I’ve found you, do you understand? If any harm comes to her, you will suffer. Now promise me you will take care of her.’

  Firmly, Steven said: ‘I promise.’

  ‘I will hold you to that promise. Now, did you know that our family name, Glogovac, means Hawthorne, like your famous writer. Legend has it that the family name comes from an ancestor who was a famous vampire hunter. He killed them with a Hawthorne stake…like this one.’

  The door burst open as Mrs. Glogovac and Bear returned. ‘How is she?’ asked Mr. Glogovac as his wife ran up and hugged him.

  ‘She’s eating and sitting up and Mrs. Lazarevic – oh, she’s such a nice woman that Mrs. Lazarevic – she said that Vesna will be able to travel tomorrow and will come by train…’

  As Mrs. Glogovac related her telephone call with Vesna, Bear grinned at Steven and gave him a thumbs-up.

  Steven nodded back. To his horror, Bear mouthed the word “Debauchery Club.”

  * * *

  Interlude XI: Belgrade: 18 May 1992

  The proud paddle-wheeler sat moored at the confluence of the Danube and Sava Rivers, across from the Kalemegdan fortress. Once it had seen better days as a luxury river cruise boat, but its engines had long since been removed and a slapped-on coat of white paint covered its rust.

  The eleven gathered on the deserted mahogany dance floor around a large table as waiters brought out bottles of champagne and eleg
ant wines. Lazar, Stanko and Lynx lit large cigars. When the waiters had been dismissed, Lazar called the meeting to order.

  Stanko said: ‘My men have been active. We brought in Professor Ljubovic and his wife and are holding them for questioning. We also brought in the Popovic family, except for their son, who has disappeared. He’s a draft-dodger, you know.’

  The others nodded their approval.

  ‘Ljubovic claims to know nothing, but he’ll respond when we question his wife. The Popovics are fools…the grandparents feel it is their patriotic duty to assist the state in all matters…they’re good communists. We need more citizens like them.’

  ‘Our informants at the University have inquired about the American’s friends, but so far it seems he lived a hermit’s life. We can’t even find out who the dead girl is…he’s done a good job concealing everything. We have ascertained that the American’s professor is a Marko Slatina from the University of California…’

  ‘The Venetian!’ gasped Igor, looking at Natalija.

  ‘Yes, the Venetian,’ Stanko replied. ‘And it seems he trained this student to come and hunt us down and kill us.’

  ‘So that means the Order is still flourishing,’ said Branko.

  ‘Nonsense,’ blurted Natalija. ‘If it were flourishing he wouldn’t be hiding half-way around the world in California.’

  ‘Perhaps he’s trying to get away from you,’ said Rastko.

  ‘Shut up,’ growled Natalija.

  ‘We’re examining all telephone calls with California,’ Stanko continued.

  ‘Do you have any more information about his associates?’ asked Lynx.

  ‘Nothing yet,’ answered Stanko.

  ‘Anything yet on the Vlach?’ Lazar asked Lynx.

  ‘Srebrenica,’ Lynx responded.

  The others stared at him.

  ‘He’s in Srebrenica.’

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THE BUTTERFLY’S LAIR

  Belgrade: 18-19 May 1992

  The taxi ride from the Glogovac home to Bear’s cousin’s house on Banovo Hill had consisted of Bear repeatedly mouthing “Debauchery” and Steven repeatedly mouthing “no.” When they entered the apartment a heated argument erupted.

  ‘You heard Stojadinovic,’ Bear said. ‘Natalija’s at Debauchery.’

  ‘Don’t be stupid! You heard Mrs. Lazarevic.’

  ‘It’s only a woman vampire,’ Bear chided.

  ‘What if there’re others? I had beginner’s luck with Stojadinovic.’

  ‘Come on, we’ll eat lots of garlic,’ Bear teased. ‘And you bring the stake along, just in case.’

  ‘No, no, no and no! We don’t know what’s in there.’

  ‘I’ve been there before.’

  ‘Good. Then you don’t have to go again.’

  ‘Come on, it’s just criminals and businessmen and some old fart singing Sinatra and Tony Bennett.’

  ‘Don’t be an ass! My picture’s all over TV.’

  ‘I just want to see. We need to know if it’s really her.’

  ‘It’s too dangerous,’ argued Steven.

  ‘You’re chicken,’ Bear taunted.

  ‘Damn right! And if you’re not, then you’ve got pig-brain jelly in your head.’

  ‘Natalija killed Tamara. Are you going to let her get away with it?’ Bear goaded. ‘Don’t you want revenge?’

  ‘Yes, but not now. We don’t know what we’re up against.’

  ‘So you’re going to forget Tamara, just like that?’ Bear grabbed Steven by his shirt front, shoving him against the wall. ‘I want revenge. Do you understand?’

  ‘You’re crazy…’

  ‘Stefan…’

  ‘Bear…’

  They looked at each other. Then Steven relented.

  ‘So what’s going on with you and Vesna? You seemed real weird towards her in the tunnels.’

  ‘Bear, back off. It’s none of your damned business. Vesna deserves better than for me to hurt her, especially now. What she needs is a good friend.’

  ‘You already hurt her when you rejected her advances.’

  ‘I’ll hurt her even more if we start something I don’t believe in just because we’re both horny, especially when she’s vulnerable. Women take relationships a lot more seriously than men, and she’s already introduced me to her family.’

  Bear shook his head. ‘You’re the first guy I’ve ever met who turned down such a beautiful girl. You sure you’re not gay?’

  ‘Not everybody thinks with his dick like you,’ Steven was becoming angry. ‘Drop it, unless you want trouble.’

  ‘Oh, the big American’s threatening me. I’m really frightened.’

  ‘I mean it,’ Steven said, advancing until they stood toe-to-toe. ‘I’ll kick your ass faster than the Nazi’s did in 1941. Try me.’ He stared Bear in the eye and tensed his muscles.

  ‘You’re touchy today,’ Bear said, backing away. ‘Forget I said anything.’

  Late that evening Bear and Steven walked through the darkened Tasmajdan Park, wearing civilian clothes they’d borrowed from Bear’s cousin on Banovo Hill. They passed the imposing Cathedral of St. Marko and the tiny Russian Orthodox chapel, crossed an elevated concrete walkway to a low, non-descript building at the park’s edge and entered a drab glass lobby to find a shabbily dressed man smoking at a desk in front of dark velvet curtains. ‘Admission is ten Deutsche Marks,’ he said without looking up, his voice almost drowned out by the sound of a jazz ensemble playing “Fly Me To The Moon” behind the curtains. They paid, he parted the curtains and a King Kong look-alike frisked them for weapons.

  They descended a broad staircase into a dimly-lit imitation of a 19th century Viennese bordello, booths around a dance floor, velvet curtains on the walls. A jazz combo backed a mummified retiree in a tuxedo whose stage smile had frozen in place, exhorting them to let him “see what life is like on Jupiter and Mars”. A waiter showed them to a booth and they ordered drinks.

  They looked around them at the playground of Belgrade’s nouveau riche. Men who only a year before were the dregs of society now displayed expensive Italian suits and ostentatious wristwatches, while haughty young women in designer jeans, miniskirts and cocktail dresses flashed their wares. Some were buyers, others sellers: it was difficult to distinguish who was who. Bear and Steven were definitely underdressed.

  ‘Is this it?’ asked Steven. ‘I expected…I don’t know, something more…uh…’

  ‘Look at all the gold-digging sponzoruse at the bar.’ Bear muttered. The girls sized up the two, decided they weren’t worth the effort and turned back to their drinks.

  As their drinks arrived the singer began a tribute to Edith Piaf. People moved in and out of focus through the thick tobacco haze, the tide of men and women ebbing and flowing between the tables, as couples swayed self-indulgently on the dance floor. In this night club, in this city, in this country at war with the world and itself, everything was fleeting, and the patrons seized whatever pleasures they could, conscious they might be their last.

  Bear glanced about curiously while Steven squirmed like a schoolboy in a confessional.

  ‘She’s not here,’ Bear said.

  ‘Hey Bear, if it’s May 1992 in Belgrade, what time is it in Washington?’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Haven’t you watched Casablanca? Never mind…this was a stupid idea. I’ve got to pee and then let’s go.’ Steven stood and headed for the bathroom.

  While Steven was gone, the mummy began crooning ‘Oh the shark has, pretty teeth babe...’ and a commotion erupted at the top of the stairs.

  Everyone in the club turned to look at six hard, shaven-headed men attired in black: shoes, trousers, t-shirts, and aviator jackets that barely concealed Scorpion submachine pistols. They flanked a young woman of perhaps 22 in a black silk cocktail dress with spaghetti straps and a single strand of pearls around her neck, a flashy scarf draped over bare shoulders. Her striking features and dark eyes were emphasized by dark hair that had been pulled bac
k. It was Natalija.

  As she appeared at the top of the stairs, head held high, the band suddenly stopped in mid-beat and launched into an enthusiastic version of “Hello Dolly,” except that the mummy belted out ‘Hello, Natalija’ with gusto in heavily-accented English.

  The clientele stood and applauded politely as she strutted slowly down the stairway, a modern-day empress making her ceremonial entrance, holding her bodyguards’ elbows for support, captivating the room with her dark beauty. Halfway down the stairs she bent over to adjust the strap on her stilettos, showing the top of her thigh-high black silk stocking and marble-white décolletage. With the liquid grace of a lioness she glided towards a reserved booth, waving in acknowledgement with one hand, a glittering Louis Vuitton clutch in the other. She sat in the center of the booth and sniffed the air slightly, her entourage forming a protective cocoon. People approached Natalija’s table, said hello and exchanged air kisses. Others sought an audience.

  Emboldened by his disguise, Bear motioned to a waiter: ‘I’d like to buy a drink for that lady over there.’

  ‘Excuse me sir, but I don’t know if that’s a good idea,’ the waiter said.

  ‘Just do it.’ He slipped 20 Deutsche Marks to the waiter.

  ‘Yes sir.’

  The waiter returned to the bar and said something to the barman, who looked briefly at Bear, shook his head disapprovingly, and set about making a drink.

  Steven returned from the toilet and said: ‘let’s go.’

  ‘Look over there,’ Bear gestured at Natalija’s table.

  ‘That’s her!’ exclaimed Steven.

  ‘And her apes are DB,’ Bear said.

  ‘Let’s go!’

  Bear shook his head. ‘Just a little longer. Let’s see who she meets and where she goes afterwards.’

  ‘We know she’s here. Now let’s leave.’

  ‘Just a little longer,’ Bear pleaded.

  ‘She’ll recognize us,’ Steven whispered.

  ‘How can she? She hardly saw us in the tunnels, and we looked completely different then,’ Bear said confidently. ‘No one has any idea who we are. Did you bring the stake?’