Kiss of the Butterfly

by James Lyon

  ‘Once we’re across the river, Slatina’s going to get us to Hungary,’ Steven offered. ‘He’ll take care of things.’

  ‘You don’t understand,’ Bear rebuffed him. ‘You’re an American. You can travel anywhere without a visa. You come from a normal country. You aren’t leaving your whole life and family behind. Your family and university are in America and your country isn’t being destroyed by war or vampires. You can always go back home. But I can never return. This is the end for me. I’ll never see Serbia or my parents again.’

  Steven nodded silently.

  ‘Do you know what my life will be like?’ Bear continued. ‘It’s like I’m a refugee. So quit complaining about whether or not God exists and whether or not you can see His face. He’s there. He hasn’t forgotten you, anymore than you’ve forgotten Him. Have you forgotten Him?’

  ‘No.’ Steven admitted, looking at Bear’s dim silhouette.

  ‘I miss Tamara,’ Bear murmured softly.

  Vesna began sobbing and Steven reached over to put his arm around her and comfort her, but she shrugged him off.

  They sat alone with their thoughts until Bear said: ‘What about the twelve?’

  ‘There were only eleven coffins at Petrovaradin,’ Steven said. ‘Slatina thinks they’re looking for the twelfth, and if they can reunite their quorum then they’ll become tremendously powerful.’

  ‘Why wasn’t the twelfth at Petrovaradin with the rest?’ Vesna asked, sniffling.

  ‘Because Slatina could never track him down. He thinks he’s hiding somewhere in Bosnia, in the mountains. When I was fighting Natalija she said we’d see the face of the Dragon in Srebrenica, in Bosnia. Maybe he’s there.’

  ‘Who is he?’ Bear asked.

  ‘Dracula.’

  ‘Dracula?! You’re kidding me!’ Bear exclaimed. ‘How are we going to stop him?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Steven answered. ‘Slatina will tell us.’

  ‘Oh dear Mother of God,’ Bear rolled his eyes. ‘I can’t believe this.’

  ‘But why us?’ Vesna moaned.

  ‘Why us? Because we know, that’s why,’ Bear answered. ‘And because it’s the right thing to do. I won’t let Tamara’s death be in vain.’

  ‘I don’t know exactly what Slatina has planned,’ Steven said. ‘But I think he wants us to stake out their graves next Easter Sunday…each year they have to return and spend one night. He said he did it before.’

  Steven pulled a package from his backpack and shined a flashlight on it. Faded scarlet ribbons, fixed by a large red wax seal with the Order of the Dragon’s insignia held it shut.

  ‘What’s that?’ Vesna asked.

  ‘I took it from that stone cross in the chamber under Petrovaradin. It’s Slatina’s journal…he asked me to retrieve it. He said he kept a record of the vampires’ burial places, so it makes catching them easier.’

  ‘Let’s see what’s in it,’ said Bear.

  ‘I don’t know if we should,’ Steven hesitated. ‘I mean…’

  ‘Go on, open it,’ urged Bear. ‘What’s going to happen?’

  ‘Well, I… okay.’

  Against his better judgment Steven broke the seal, removed the ribbons, and began gently to unwrap the waxy oil cloth, but it had stiffened with age and proved difficult. As he did so, small wooden and metal charms placed in the wrapping fell out. Inside lay a leather volume with a locking metal clasp.

  ‘Maybe we should just leave it,’ Steven said.

  ‘Come on,’ Bear urged. ‘Open it.’

  ‘Steven’s right, leave it alone,’ Vesna said. ‘We don’t want any more trouble.’

  ‘Go on,’ Bear goaded.

  Steven forced the latch with a pocket knife, his hands trembling. As he opened the cover the book shimmered briefly, mirage-like, and then returned to normal. He felt a tingle run up his spine as warmth flooded his bosom.

  ‘Did you see that,’ Steven asked, breathing unevenly.

  ‘See what?’ Vesna responded. ‘Did something happen?’ She clutched protectively at her throat.

  ‘I don’t know. I just thought I felt something.’

  ‘What’s that,’ Bear asked, pointing at the frontispiece.

  Strange symbols leapt from the paper, trapezoids and triangles affixed to mangled bicycles and eyeglasses.

  ‘It’s the Glagolitic alphabet,’ Steven exclaimed excitedly.

  ‘Glagolitic? Can you read it?’ Bear asked.

  ‘Uh… not easily. Last time I saw Glagolitic it took me three days just to read two pages.’

  Steven flipped through pages of Glagolitic inscriptions, sketches of geological formations, grave sites, churches, people, vampires, witches and fairies and several clusters of symbols that made little sense to him, as well as what appeared to be occult markings.

  ‘It looks like Slatina was investigating alchemy, witchcraft and black magic,’ Steven said.

  ‘What’s that?’ Vesna grabbed Steven’s arm and pointed at the village.

  Bear and Steven looked, yet saw nothing.

  ‘I thought I saw something move down there…it looked like a ghost.’

  They watched further, yet saw nothing.

  ‘You’re probably seeing things,’ Bear said. ‘Just hold on, only two hours to midnight.’

  Steven’s tongue began to tingle and his mouth to water as a faint acrid taste of lavender, wild mushrooms and rosemary wafted across his taste buds, and warmth crept into his chest and loins. The sensations felt distant, yet somehow familiar. Then his pulse and breathing quickened as adrenaline flooded into his bloodstream, and he recalled these same sensations from that very morning outside Natalija’s apartment.

  Looking about wildly he pulled the stake from his backpack, jumped up and frantically shined his flashlight around the inside of the dark tower.

  He saw only shadow.

  Vesna yelped and clutched her neck. ‘It’s burning,’ she whimpered. ‘It’s burning.’

  ‘Natalija,’ Steven called loudly. ‘I know you’re here.’

  ‘Natalija? Where?’ Bear jumped to his feet, shining his flashlight around.

  ‘Show yourself,’ Steven called, his voice steady and strong, belying the fear gripping his chest. ‘You can’t hide from me. I feel your presence.’

  ‘Nooooo,’ Vesna pulled her knees to her chest and whimpered. ‘Make it stop,’ she begged. ‘Make it stop.’

  Bear and Steven stood back to back forming a protective cocoon around Vesna.

  The sensations on Steven’s tongue grew stronger until they overwhelmed his taste buds, while the heat in his chest and loins caused him to break out in sweat.

  ‘Natalija,’ he shouted.

  ‘Natalija,’ Bear yelled.

  But the ruins and overgrown grass swallowed their cries, leaving nary an echo among the deaf shadows that danced darkly around them.

  From the edge of town they heard town dogs begin to bark, barks that quickly modulated into wild howls.

  Steven and Bear turned in the direction of the howls and saw the glare of unseen headlights reflect off wet asphalt, then the headlights hove into view over the top of the hill: a dark Mercedes SUV, three Army trucks and a tanker truck. The vehicles drove down to the landing, and the trucks pulled onto a ferry and cut their motors. Steven and Bear shut off their flashlights and barely made out the silhouettes of a man and woman who emerged from the Mercedes, followed by a short, stocky figure. Heckler-toting paramilitaries in camouflage jumped from the trucks to form a perimeter, guns at the ready, balaclavas over their heads.

  The man sniffed the air, then walked into the café, a wolf cub at heel on a leash beside him. The woman stood alone on the ferry. She too sniffed the air, stood still, sniffed again, and then looked directly up at the castle ruins, her eyes glowing red against the blackness of her face.

  Although he couldn’t distinguish her features, Steven knew instinctively it was Natalija and that it was her energy that had surged through him and Vesna. And he knew that she too ha
d sensed them. The red eyes now stared directly at Steven and he felt them burn a hole in his heart.

  He began to tremble and sweat and his vision blurred as a strong desire to run to her swept over him. He wrestled against it and gasped deep breaths until finally her eyes stopped glowing. Suddenly she turned and walked deliberately toward the café, followed by the short, stocky figure.

  ‘It’s Natalija,’ Steven gasped for air as the force pulling him towards her waned. He could only imagine what Vesna was feeling. He walked over and held her as she sobbed, immobilized by fear and pain. He tried to comfort her, all the while fighting his urge to run to Natalija.

  ‘Did you see that guy?’ Bear asked. ‘It’s Lynx, the paramilitary commander. He’s a born murderer…you wouldn’t believe the stories of what he’s done in Croatia and Bosnia. I’ll bet he’s a vampire too.’

  The thought made Steven shiver. This time he wouldn’t be fighting just Natalija, but also a trained killer and soldiers.

  ‘I won’t let them hurt you,’ Steven assured Vesna in a whispered voice. ‘I won’t let her get near you, I promise.’ But deep inside he wondered how strong he would be in Natalija’s presence. Would he betray Vesna to Natalija? And how would he handle Lynx and his paramilitaries? He clutched the Hawthorne cross at his throat and began to pray silently, seeking strength as he thought about the pine cone Katarina had given him.

  ‘How’d they find us?’ Steven asked. ‘How are we going to get to the boat without them catching us?’

  ‘I don’t think they came for us,’ Bear answered, as a low rumbling wafted across the water.

  The noise of marine diesels grew louder and soon a darkened prow without running lights emerged from the mists, then the long low cargo hold of a barge, and finally the superstructure. It slowed, then strained gradually against the current until it rested next to the ferry. Deck hands quickly secured it as a small deck light came on outside the bridge.

  Lynx and the stocky figure emerged from the café as paramilitaries began tossing large plastic-wrapped bricks from the trucks up onto the barges.

  ‘Heroin,’ whispered Bear.

  In the dim light Steven made out the stocky figure’s face. ‘It’s the substitute librarian,’ he exclaimed. ‘The one who kicked me out of the library. She’s one of them!’

  When they finished loading the heroin, the deck hands began offloading large cardboard boxes with writing on the sides, which disappeared into the Army trucks. Others ran a hose from the barge to the tanker truck.

  ‘Cigarettes and gas,’ whispered Bear.

  The deck hands worked quickly and in no time they had closed the tarps on the back of the trucks, filled the tanker, extinguished the deck light, and cast off the barge.

  ‘What time is it?’ Steven whispered to Bear.

  ‘11:30,’ Bear answered. ‘They’re going now.’

  The librarian went inside and came back with Natalija. The three had a brief conversation, and then Natalija pointed up towards their hiding place in the ruins.

  Lynx looked up and his eyes glowed red in the shadow of his face, as did the eyes of the librarian. Lynx lit a cigar, gestured to the paramilitaries, said something unintelligible, and pointed up towards the ruins. The paramilitaries began trotting towards the narrow lane that led up to the castle.

  ‘Vampires and paramilitaries,’ Bear muttered. ‘Now we have trouble.’

  Steven and Bear watched in astonishment: as the paramilitaries passed each house, the wall fluoresced ever so slightly around the tombstones, sending luminescent tendrils wafting outward to form small butterflies that fluttered gently in front of each home. They were barely visible and their luminescence was slight, yet there they were. Evil had woken the spirits of the guardian dead from their resting places to protect the lives and homes of their descendants. Soon these ghostly shades filled the village, fluttering silently, watching the paramilitaries pass. Upon seeing these apparitions the paramilitaries hesitated, stopped, and looked about uncertainly.

  ‘That’s what Mrs. Lazarevic was talking about,’ Bear whispered, watching the guardians emerge from their slumber.

  ‘Go on, move your sorry asses or I’ll come and plant my boot in them,’ Lynx angrily shouted. ‘They won’t hurt you if you leave them alone.’ The paramilitaries began to move cautiously, glancing warily about.

  ‘We can’t stay,’ Steven said. ‘They know we’re here.’ He lifted Vesna and pointed across the lane from the castle towards a small chapel surrounded by a four meter stone wall with battlements. ‘Vampires can’t tread on holy ground.’

  Bear grabbed Vesna’s other arm and they half pulled, half carried her through the churchyard gate, garlic garlands swinging awkwardly from their shoulders, their feet slipping on fallen leaves that oozed the scent of decay. The chapel was locked, so they picked their way through a sea of waist-high stone crosses toward a large tree trunk in a back corner, away from the gate and crouched down.

  The crunch of boots on gravel echoed up the lane, drawing ever nearer as Steven, Bear and Vesna huddled together in silence. They heard a static crackle and a man’s voice, followed by the electronically distorted speech of a walkie-talkie. Then the noises began to move towards the castle ruins until they gradually faded from earshot. Occasionally their ears picked up the odd sound coming from the ruined fortress, the crackle of a walkie-talkie or boots on stone, but the churchyard embraced them in a protective cloak of silence.

  ‘What if they’re not vampires,’ Bear whispered. ‘They could come in here.’

  Steven shook his head, mentally kicking himself for not thinking of that. The gate was their only way out.

  ‘Damn it!’ they heard the voice echo loudly through the ruins, followed by more voices, the sound of the walkie-talkie, then quarreling.

  And then a new pair of boots crunched up the lane.

  As the crunching neared, butterflies riding luminescent tendrils exploded from the gravestones around them. They hovered silently above each marker, then fluttered toward the three friends. Vesna closed her eyes, whimpered softly and began to shake.

  Bear crossed himself and whispered loudly ‘Holy Mary, Mother of God, and all the Saints, have mercy.’

  Steven clapped his hand over Vesna’s mouth to prevent her moans from giving them away and waved the stake in front of him, but the glowing apparitions took little notice. They fluttered gently in the night air and began to close in around the three, hemming them in on all sides. These weren’t vampires, and nothing Slatina or Mrs. Lazarevic had said had prepared Steven for this.

  Steven felt Vesna trembling as she tried to swallow her fear and he kept his hand tightly pressed over her mouth. He wielded his Hawthorne cross, which at first seemed to bewilder the butterflies, but then the apparitions tightened in a circle around them.

  ‘What did Mrs. Lazarevic say?’ whispered Bear frantically.

  Steven thought back to Mrs. Lazarevic’s words: ‘the supernatural will help you.’ He faced the apparitions and whispered softly: ‘O quam misericors est Deus, Justus et Pius.’

  The butterflies halted.

  ‘O quam misericors est Deus, Justus et Pius,’ he repeated.

  Then the butterflies washed over the friends as a cascade of blowing leaves, fluttering in wild abandon around their arms, legs and faces, swirling and dancing. Some clustered on Steven’s Hawthorne stake and one began crawling towards his hand. He had a flashback to Niedermeier’s bookstore and shuddered, but remained still while the glowing insect moved rapidly onto his goose-bumped skin. More of them swarmed over his arms, tingling wherever they touched him. When they finally lifted, the wounds from his fights with Natalija and Stojadinovic were healed, the skin glowing slightly.

  Bear stood, awestruck, his arms and face completely covered, while Vesna looked like a human glow stick, her entire body covered in butterflies from head to toe, only her eyes, lips and nostrils visible. For the first time since Saturday she was smiling.

  The new boots passed and continued
towards the ruins, followed by the smell of cigar smoke. ‘You sons of Gypsy whores,’ a voice cursed. ‘Can’t you even find three drug-addled kids?’

  ‘Lynx,’ Bear mouthed to Steven.

  ‘You useless faggots,’ Lynx yelled. ‘Quit playing with each other’s peckers and find them.’

  Boots scrambled over stone and gravel.

  ‘Fan out, cover the hillside,’ Lynx directed. ‘They’re here somewhere. I want them alive or I’ll roast your shriveled balls like I did that Imam’s in Bosnia!’

  And then Natalija beckoned him. Steven tasted her once again on his tongue and struggled for air as his chest compressed and loins burned. The sensations overwhelmed him with the urge to run to her. Vesna shuddered, clutched her throat and fought the pain as the butterflies scattered from her.

  ‘Breathe deeply,’ Steven whispered, feeling his own pulse race wildly, one arm around the tree trunk to steady his resolve.

  Vesna began shaking violently, and Steven and Bear grabbed her. Blood dripped from her lips where she had bitten them, and she breathed loudly.

  ‘Hold on, just a little longer,’ Steven urged, shaking his head to clear Natalija’s tendrils from his mind. He fought, and for the first time, he felt himself winning. This victory, however small, brought hope.

  Then Vesna screamed.

  ‘They’re in the churchyard, you idiots,’ Lynx called. ‘Bring them out.’

  Running boots approached the gate and then stopped.

  ‘What are you waiting for? You’re acting like a bunch of eunuchs. Get in there.’

  ‘Boss… it’s full of those things.’

  ‘You spineless dick-head. They won’t hurt you… leave them alone and they’ll leave you alone. Now get in there and bring me those kids before I skin you alive.’

  ‘But boss, they’re ghosts and…’

  A silenced gunshot thudded dully, a body hit the ground.

  ‘Either you faggots get your puckered assholes in there and get them, or you’ll end up like him!’

  Boots moved hesitantly forwards and the gate creaked open. As it did, the butterflies flew rapidly towards it and blocked the gateway.