“Victor…”
“What!?” he roared. Ms. Havershem, a stout woman, turned away.
Octavia didn’t know if it was the poison playing tricks on her mind, but Victor was moving too fast and his tone was too guttural to be normal. But she became preoccupied by her labored breathing and a single red drop that landed on her gown. Red liquid in place of tears traveled down her cheeks that now seemed to be sinking inward.
“She is visibly dying in front of your eyes and you have no answers for me? No cure?”
“Victor.”
“Stop saying my name and explain.”
“Your blood…” Ms. Havershem began.
“What?”
“Your blood is the key,” Ms. Havershem spoke aloud. She’d never feared him before tonight. “And we need more than the normal amount for her for some odd reason.”
“You’re talking lunacy. How is my blood the key? Vampire blood alone should have sufficed. You’re not making sense, woman.”
“You need to listen and stop talking in front of her,” Brayden interjected.
“In front of her? You mean Octavia, the one who is dying before my very eyes?”
“Yes, Octavia.” Brayden pointed at her, but Octavia could hardly make sense of what Victor had just said. Vampire? She was grasping at fragmented words. Her mind was regressing. “First, let’s give her the cure, then we will explain,” Brayden suggested.
“Oh, you will explain,” Victor stood a hair’s breadth from Brayden, but neither man backed down.
“Ms. Havershem, please.” Brayden waved her over to do what she needed to.
Ms. Havershem gathered her supplies, rolled up Victor’s sleeve and proceeded to remove his blood. She filled several vials. He did not even seem to notice when she punctured his skin.
Ms. Havershem did not make eye contact with Victor as his eyes bore a tunnel into Brayden’s face. She rushed over to the table and poured his blood into a container with a darker liquid, a mixture of dragon’s blood and herbs, and mixed them together. She drew it up into a syringe and hurried over to Octavia, who was now drifting off to an empty place.
“You will feel the pinch, and like last time, you will quickly feel its effects,” Ms. Havershem explained. Octavia could not move her face, only close and open her lids in response. Breathing was strenuous, and she fought to hold onto her last moments of life. As Ms. Havershem pushed the needle through her dying flesh, Octavia felt a sudden warm surge.
“Dicitur enim me occidere,” Octavia yelled out.
All three were startled by her verse in Latin, but the horrid screech she released afterward mystified them even more. Her body arched from the antidote, which seemed to be killing her, as her very words had stated.
Victor rushed over to the bed as the medicine took its effect. Octavia writhed about restlessly on the bed, her breaths visibly shallow, her veins surfacing just under her skin. She looked to be in agony.
“Is she dying?” Victor asked Ms. Havershem.
“She is strong, Victor. She will survive this.” Ms. Havershem spoke words of comfort, but Octavia’s drop in temperature informed Victor otherwise.
After some time, Octavia finally settled down and Victor made sure she was resting peacefully. “Stay with her,” he ordered the nursemaid, who had remained quiet this whole time. She knew her place.
He walked over to the co-conspirators who stood far enough away to give Victor space.
Chapter 16: Victor
“No more secrets. No more lies. I want to know everything. You will tell me what I want to know and you will tell me now. What makes my blood so special? What are the both of you hiding?” Victor was fuming. His most trusted companions were hiding something. He could smell the deceit on their skin and it was overwhelmingly repugnant. Why? Was it his truth, from so long ago?
“Not here,” Ms. Havershem said, trying to control her trembling hands. The movement was subtle, but Victor took note. She walked out the room with the men following behind her, leaving Octavia to rest with the nursemaid by her side. The three headed to the study where Miruna, dressed in her normal long dark blue attire, just so happened to be waiting.
“What are you doing here, Miruna?” Normally, Victor would greet her with a civil kiss of the hand, but he knew she was involved in whatever they were hiding from him. How could she not be? She was as old as time, one of the firsts. She was one of the original faces he recalled from his early days. “It’s not that I’m not happy to see you, but this must be serious for you to come so swiftly in the middle of the night.” He poured himself a scotch, blue label. A flow of resentment started to rise within him, bubbling up from deep below the surface, but he wanted to remain open minded in order to listen, to really hear what they had to say. He steadied his hands, trying to remain tranquil, but it was challenging.
“Just remember, Nikolai.” Miruna always called him by his risen name, the name he had known upon awakening. “What we did was for your sake.” Her tone was not casual, more stern, like a person expecting an argument. It was the voice reserved for an adversary, one she had never used on him, but there had been quite a bit of firsts lately.
He walked over to the double doors overlooking the garden, his drink in his hand. He swirled the glass around, letting the liquid glide over the rocks, chilling the elixir, hoping his mood would mirror that coolness. “Why are the three of you treating me like a timid school girl? I don’t easily break. Out with it!” They were trying his patience as they watched him carefully.
“What do you remember of your birth?” Miruna started.
“Not much. Only what little you and Brayden have told me. I was born unto this earth in Romania six hundred years ago as Nikolai Von Mort, but the first two hundred years were, and still are, a blur to me. Why exactly is that?” he remarked snidely, cutting her a cross look, then turning back to the glass.
“As we have told you before, you were a hungry vampire, with a ravenous appetite, as are most newborns. But Nikolai, you were insatiable. You were a monster. The nickname ‘Barbarian’ fit you well. You gave no mercy.” Miruna stepped up next to him, as if to make sure he heard her well. “At one time, you were the worst of our kind. Some say it is because of you, humans would fear us. Then there are those who say it is because of you, they do fear us.”
“Why?” Victor only glanced down at the petite woman. She had a frame others might underestimate. She would not hesitate to kill an oppressor, and although appearing to be in her mid-thirties by human years, she hadn’t slowed down, having existed well over three thousand years.
Once again, he stared out the glass door, refusing to linger on the three who’d held his truth from him for centuries. He wasn’t as angry with Ms. Havershem, since she had not been around when he was Nikolai, but she knew parts. So many times, he’d asked about his past, and they’d tried to appease him with small tales and quick responses. Now, they were being forced to disclose what they had long hidden.
“You killed for the sheer pleasure of it. While most vampires fed to survive, you reveled in the living’s blood. You not only tortured your kill, you tormented their families as well, by making them watch you maim their loved ones. You even forced them to kill each other in order to survive; fathers against sons; mothers against daughters, and so on. Taking out entire villages seemed your mission, and just for the hell of it, you would bathe in your kills’ blood.” Victor shuddered, remembering the euphoric sensation he’d felt with the blood of the Ukrainian on his person. “Yes, Nikolai, you literally bathed in their blood.” Her Romanian brogue breathed life into the revelation of his past.
“But there were times you were elegant, shrewd — a Machiavellian monster.” She walked away from him as she spoke, her voice becoming huskier the more she divulged. “You could sweet talk a well-to-do seasoned woman into your bed, but a naïve girl never stood a chance against your merciless charm. Nikolai, you could charm the slither out of a snake, take the hiss from its tongue, the rattle from its tail, and
it would still beg to give you more. It would still desire you. Hunger for you. You would take a woman’s innocence and rub it in the face of her family. You ruined so many women’s reputations, even some men,” she hissed. “Until one day, you swept the wrong mademoiselle off her feet.”
“Who was she?” Victor asked, becoming disturbed by what he’d heard so far. His cold heart hardened, and he clung to his sanity as she spoke what he dreaded most—his despicable truth.
“Some gypsy girl. Her name was Natalia, but she’s unimportant.” Victor flinched, remembering he’d chosen that name for Octavia during their hotel rendezvous. “Does that name ring a bell?”
“No, go on.” He did not want to confess as he took a sip of his drink that had lost its appeal under these circumstances.
Her gaze lingered, but she continued. “Her aunt, by title only, is the significant one, for this woman was truly gifted in the art of witchcraft. Her name was Catarina." Victor felt a peculiar cold chill down his spine at the sound of her name. “That name sounds familiar to you, Nikolai?” Miruna asked, sensing his mood swing towards darkness.
“Yes, and yet I have no memory of her.”
“That’s because she embedded her imprint on your soul. It was said that she was more than a witch, that she was far too great to be just that. She hid her identity well, until that night, that wicked night upon the land now called New Orleans over four hundred years ago. The day I was supposed to kill you.”
“You were to what?” Victor spun around shocked at what he’d just heard.
“It is true. She was sent to kill you, Nikolai,” Brayden interrupted. “Long before her orders, I knew the Cabalistis was aware of your behavior, so in an attempt to protect you, we fled Europe abruptly and ventured to this new land. Evil already resided here so I’d hoped we’d blend in.”
“Upon arrival, we were warned by him, Elijah himself, a mysterious being.” Brayden explained their tale as fear draped his face. “Every damned soul knows of him. There is no one we know of who can match his supremacy, you do not want this entity to know your name. Unfortunately for both of us, he found you and warned you to change your ways, but you did not. You nearly destroyed the swamps, ravaging both human and animal bodies. You left a trail of carnage. For over a century, I’d covered up for you. I’d tried to refine you. That was my job ordered by the Cabalistis, but I failed you.” Brayden confessed his most ignominious regret.
“By some miracle, we were not discovered, which I believed had something to do with the darkness this enchantress Catarina brought upon the land. Towards the end of the second century, you were worse, as if tortured. I’d wondered if you were taunting death, hoping that the Cabalistis would seek you out and end your existence. Because when I did warn you the Cabalistis was finally coming, you hastened your kills. By then, you’d left a death toll in the thousands.” Brayden spoke as though reliving those years, his anguish palpable as he begged Victor to understand.
“Then one dreadful night, not only did you mutilate Catarina’s niece, you also forced Elijah’s hand. He returned to this land to end you, to end us. It was as if you bade him. You acted as if you needed death, either by consuming it or desiring it for yourself. It’s all you seemed to care about.”
“Then why can’t I remember any of this?” Victor’s face warped into a rage. He gripped the patio door handle, wanting to flee, but stayed, needing to know the truth, a truth he dreaded. “If I was such a savage, how am I still alive?”
“That was how she planned it,” Miruna spoke.
“Planned what?” Victor snapped.
“Your curse.”
“My what?”
“Yes, she bewitched you, Nikolai. No matter what she is to you now or what she did then that night, Catarina saved your life through a spell.”
“How could some witch save my life through a curse?” He tossed the glass across the room, not believing what the words she had spoken.
“No, my dear. Don’t be fooled. She was no mere witch,” Miruna warned, spinning around on her heels, her voice colder than ice as she strode up to him, making sure he heard her clearly. “Upon cursing you, she took something from you, weakening you, humbling you for what you had done. I’d just reached you, moments before Elijah approached the gypsy campsite. I saw the aftermath of your work. You’d not only killed her niece, you’d paralyzed her with fear. You skillfully courted her, took her purity, and when you were done with her, you didn’t just drink of her, then simply kill her. No, you crucified her, there in her family’s home. First, you killed her parents in front of her. Then, you strung up her arms, and with a hook in her back, you let her bleed out. For some reason, you’d wanted her to suffer. Maybe because she was innocent, or maybe you just wanted others to suffer as your empty soul did.”
“No, no I could not have done these things.” Victor tossed his desk across the room, losing his temper. “It’s a lie!” He was furious at the tale she was telling.
“Oh, but you did,” Miruna advised him, taking hold of him and looking him deep in his eyes. “You took everything from Catarina—her family, her friends—so she made sure to take everything from you.”
“Suus’a mendacia anus!”
“It’s no lie.” She grabbed hold of his arms and pinned him to the wall. “I saw what you did with my very own eyes. It was breathtaking.” A sinister leer crept across her face as if, for a brief moment, she was a mother proud of her offspring. But then, that admiration slowly withered, as Miruna remembered the damage he had caused. “Before you could leave the grounds, Catarina dragged you further inside her camp. From a distance, Brayden and I could see you were no match for her power. We were unable to penetrate the barrier she had placed around the grounds, keeping us at bay. We saw you strung up, hands bound and screaming out in agony. There she slit your flesh, taking of your blood, without ever touching you to inflict the wound. A white mist escaped your gashes, as she took what we now assume to be your spirit and your strength. That’s how we knew she was more than a witch, but Elijah confirmed it.”
Victor yanked away from her, revolted by what he’d heard. “Unhand me. You act as if you take pleasure in my horrid past.”
“No, not pleasure, but I am impressed. You were pure vampire, pure monster, and pure wickedness. It’s rare to find such an impeccable specimen. I know that life well, but yours was unmatched by any that I’d ever seen, and I’ve seen plenty.”
“Then why try and stop me if I was so ‘impeccable’?”
“I was so ordered by the Cabalistis.” Her Romanian drawl continued to linger on each word as her eyes cast a bright glow of respect. “After Catarina was done and the barrier had dropped, we found you huddled like a pup at one corner of the campsite. You were weak and bloody. You made no sense as you spoke of the darkness. She stood not far from us, watching.”
“Although she let us go, it came with a warning. As Catarina came up to us, she spoke the very words ‘He belongs to me. He will suffer most terribly. None of this shall he remember. Through she, he shall pay most dreadfully.’ Then, just like that, she disappeared. No smolder or parlor tricks. She just vanished. I’d been around long enough to know witches do not vanish like the wind in the night. Yes, the true ones have gifts, but none like that. Once we knew she would not return, Brayden carried your body out. Your bones rattled, broken from her tight grip when she’d strung you up.”
“Out from the woods, at the edge of the campsite, marched a formidable adversary — Elijah. We could feel his immense power long before we’d laid eyes on him. As promised, he came for you, but the oddest thing occurred,” Miruna paused, facing Brayden. Her perverse leer faded and turned to terror. Victor had never known her to be frightened of anything.
“Don’t face Brayden. Tell me, woman,” Victor demanded. He now held Miruna’s arm tightly.
She swallowed hard before she continued. “As we stood there helplessly, awaiting his wrath, he turned and sought out Catarina. Her carnage must have been far greater than y
ours. In passing us in the field, he took us to our knees as if the life was draining from us, without raising a hand. His eyes glowed, warning us against revealing his immense supremacy. Instinctively, we lowered our heads, as if not worthy of seeing his true self. When a being such as he warns you, you take heed, for it means instant death to disobey.” She pulled away from Victor as he backed away to the glass doors.
“We sat there and waited until the pressure of his power had gone, our breaths shallow from his invisible grasp. Gradually, we realized that we had, indeed, bowed to him. We had never felt anything so absolute, so pure. We had just cheated death.” Miruna blinked back tears.
“In the distance, we could hear Elijah and Catarina’s thunderous fury. There was an ill-tempered chill in the air. The wind stirred violently. Fire already revealed Catarina’s vileness, but the rain that fell did not smolder the blaze. Between the two of them, we would have never survived their storm. We fled in order to live. That night, we headed back to Romania, and once we arrived, we begged for your clemency. You were like a baby, a newborn ready to be mothered.” She stroked his face. “There, under constant watch, and with Brayden’s and my teachings, you grew refined, educated and quite gallant.”
“Yes, the perfect pup,” he reviled as his top lip curled. “And this, this lunacy is all true?” he asked cautiously, never knowing Miruna or Brayden to lie, but then again, this story was quite remarkable.
“Don’t be insolent,” Miruna snapped. “You’re alive, are you not?”
“And the ring?” he held it up to Brayden.
“Where did you…” Brayden peered at it in bewilderment.
“Octavia had it,” Victor explained.
“That night when I saw that it was gone, I assumed you had simply lost it,” Brayden paused. “Your blood and a possession, the ring, was how the curse must have worked,” he spoke while in deep thought.
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