by Lana Melyan
“Oh, my god,” she whispered. All her irritation and anger were gone. “Who is that guy?” she asked Hanna, with pleasant surprise on her face.
Hanna shook her head.
“She can’t get enough, can she?” said Debra.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“If she has that,” Debra pointed after Amanda and Craig, who had already disappeared from view, “Why would she take Alec from me?”
“She didn’t take him. Amanda and Alec are just friends,” said Hanna, frustrated.
“Friends, huh? Have you seen his photo collection of her? We dated for three months and he has only two pictures of me, and they’re both with his football team.”
Two guys having a beer on the porch chortled.
Alec walked out of the house. He looked sideways at the guys until they went inside. With his hands in his pockets, he stepped closer and stopped behind Debra.
“You talk too much,” he said in a cold voice.
Debra flinched and looked back.
“I think you should go inside.” He gazed at her.
She flipped her hair and left without saying a word.
“Sorry for that,” said Alec to Hanna.
Hanna nodded and walked away.
She came out to the driveway and looked at her car across the road. It was empty. She turned to the left and peered into the darkness, then took a few steps forward. She had just spotted Craig’s jeep in the string of parked cars when two men grabbed her arms from both sides. She glanced back and saw the familiar faces. Hanna jerked, trying to free herself, but the grip was too tight.
“Easy,” she heard Mark’s voice. There was a flash, and the vampire appeared in front of her. “Even if you did have your powers, you wouldn’t be able to do much against the three of us.”
“If I had my powers, you wouldn’t even have a chance to speak your first word.”
“Then maybe you’re right. Maybe I have to seize my chances while I can,” said Mark, and his fist slammed into her stomach.
Hanna cringed in pain.
“Where’s Hanna?” asked Ruben the moment Amanda and Craig got into the car.
“She was right behind us,” said Craig.
“Maybe she went to her car,” suggested Kimberly.
“She was talking to Debra,” said Amanda. “Debra seemed pretty angry. Guys, what happened?” She turned to Ruben and Kimberly, who sat in the back.
“I don’t know,” said Kimberly. “All I know is, while you were gone, she left, too, and when she came back she said we had to leave.”
“Ruben,” said Craig, “am I understanding this right? You were with Kimberly, Hanna was gone . . .”
“She was safe,” said Ruben, predicting Craig’s question. “She was upstairs, and I was—”
“Dammit,” said Craig through his teeth.
“I’m telling you,” said Ruben, but then realized Craig wasn’t talking to him. His eyes were fixed at the street ahead, and the rest of them followed his glare.
Two men held Hanna by her arms, and a third one appeared out of nowhere, spoke to her, then hit her in the stomach.
“Hanna!” screamed Amanda.
“Oh my God,” Kimberly gasped.
Ruben hopped outside. Amanda grabbed the door handle, but as soon as she opened it, Craig pulled her to him and Ruben shut her door.
The back door was still open. Ruben bent down and leveled with Kimberly’s shocked face.
“Everything’s going to be fine,” he assured her, then closed the door and stormed away.
“Hanna will be fine, I promise,” said Craig. “Amanda, listen to me. Whatever happens next—don’t do anything rash. I don’t think they know you’re in this car.”
“It’s all because of me, it’s my fault,” Amanda muttered with trembling lips.
“I need to go there,” said Craig, “Lock the doors. If anyone tries to get in, just drive away. Otherwise wait for Hanna. Do you understand?”
Amanda nodded.
“I don’t,” Kimberly suddenly yelled. “What the hell is going on?”
“Kimberly, all questions later. And, please, keep your voice down, those guys have pretty good hearing.”
Ruben didn’t want the vampires to see the direction from which he had come, so he snuck to the other side of the street.
“Let her go,” he said in a cold voice, and all three men gazed at him.
“Or you’ll do what? Slap me to death? Ruben, if I’m not mistaken?” said Mark.
“Hey, Mark,” called Hanna.
The vampire turned around. Drawing on the two men clutching her arms, Hanna kicked him in the chest.
“Or we can do that,” she said.
Mark staggered backward. Ruben, who was standing right behind him, kicked him in his back. Mark collapsed face down.
“Never turn your back on the enemy,” said Ruben and kicked him once more, this time in the head.
Distracted, one of the vampires holding Hanna loosened his grip. Hanna jerked her arm and elbowed him in the nose. But the other one was too fast, and before her fist met his face, he caught it, pushed it down, and clasped his arms around her chest. The elbowed vampire swung his hand at Hanna, but Ruben was already there and hit him in the chest, then sent another blow to his nose. This time it cracked.
The vampire groaned, then snarled rabidly, baring his fangs, and his fist landed in Ruben’s face. Ruben hit the ground.
Hanna made one more effort to get free, but the vampire holding her twisted her wrist upward. She doubled over.
“All right, you had your fun,” said Mark in fury, jumping to his feet again. His face changed. His eyes glowed red, and fangs protruded from his upper lip. “Now it’s our tu—”
Craig grabbed him around his neck from behind. His free hand pressed a stake to Marks back.
“One movement, and I’ll stick it through your heart,” said Craig through his teeth. “I have done this for centuries, and I won’t miss, believe me.”
Ruben rose and stood beside Craig. None of the vampires moved.
“Now, let her go,” said Craig, looking at the one holding Hanna’s hand.
The vampire obeyed.
“Go,” said Craig, nodding to where his jeep was parked.
Hanna ran to the car.
Amanda saw Hanna running to them and unlocked the doors.
“Hanna, I am so sorry. That was horrible.”
“Are you all right?” asked Kimberly warily, “You look all right.”
“I’m fine.” Hanna started the engine. “Put your seatbelts on,” she said and drove away, leaving Craig and Ruben behind.
“Where are you going?” asked Kimberly. “What about them?”
“They’re big guys, they can take care of themselves,” said Hanna.
“Can they? A minute ago Ruben was on the ground.”
“I am doing what they asked me to do—taking you away.”
“We have to call the police.”
“No.” Hanna looked at Kimberly in the rearview mirror.
“Why not?” asked Kimberly, who had her cellphone ready.
“Kimberly, put that phone down. They’re my brothers, and I would never leave them in danger. I know you’re scared, but you have to trust me. Nothing is going happen to them.”
“Hanna, Craig—He was holding something in his hand. It wasn’t a knife, was it?” Amanda asked carefully.
“Relax. It was just a piece of wood.”
“It’s all because of me,” said Amanda and shook her head. “We shouldn’t have gone to that party.”
“You keep saying that. Why?” said Kimberly, spreading her hands in bewilderment. “What does it have to do with you?”
“You know it’s not true,” said Hanna. “You heard what Debra said. It’s my fault.”
“Debra? Debra said something? When the hell did that happen?” asked Kimberly.
But nobody paid attention.
“What was that all about?” Amanda asked Hanna.
“She wasn’t exaggerating. I really made them angry. Sorry, lost my temper. God,” Hanna moaned, “Craig will kill me.”
Amanda looked back at Kimberly.
“It happened when we were leaving.”
“Remember I asked Alec about Debra’s new boyfriend?” said Hanna. “He was the one who hit me,”
“No,” Kimberly gasped. “You think that it was Debra? That she sent them after you? You know, she might be a bitch, but she would never do something like that.”
“No, she has nothing to do with it,” said Hanna. She stopped the car in front of Kimberly’s house and turned to her. “Are you still alone?” she asked before Kimberly could come up with another undesirable question.
“Yes, my parents come back tomorrow night. Let’s go in.”
The moment they stepped inside, Hanna’s cellphone rang. It was Ruben.
“Where are you?” he asked.
“At Kimberly’s. What happened? Is everything all right?”
“Everything’s fine. We got away. Hanna, they’re pretty pissed off, so it’s best if you girls stay indoors.”
“We will. Is Craig mad at me?”
“We haven’t gotten to that part yet.”
“At least I got them out of the house,” said Hanna.
“Let’s wait for the morning news. We’ll see if it worked.”
Hanna sighed.
“See you tomorrow,” said Ruben, and he hung up.
“They’re fine,” said Hanna to staring at her Kimberly and Amanda. “Slumber party?”
13
YEAR 1834
In spring 1834, when a small, red mark appeared on the Map showing signs of trouble in Virginia, Fray, annoyed by everybody’s big love and attention to Craig and all that stir around his pregnant Eleanor, gladly volunteered to go and find out what the problem was. He arrived in Lynchburg and met the local witch, Martha, who had summoned him. She told Fray an interesting story.
A well-known painter had knocked on her door about a week ago. He looked like he had been ill for a long time. He said he knew Martha was a witch and had come to her because nobody else would understand.
He said that a woman around the age of twenty-five came to him at night nearly a month ago and introduced herself as Ms. Murray. She asked him to paint her portrait and promised a good payment, but with one condition: he had to do it at her place and stay there until he finished his work. The painter agreed, and not only because of the money; the woman was very beautiful, and he imagined how magnificent the portrait would be.
She took him to a manor outside the town. He didn’t know which way they went; as soon as they got in the carriage, she drew the curtains.
As they walked into the house, he saw a few other people. They didn’t look like servants, more like friends or companions, but they all obeyed her and listened to everything she said, which seemed weird to the man. He also found it strange that they never went outside in the daytime, no matter how good the weather was. They went for a walk only when it was very cloudy. When Martha asked him if they left the house at night, the painter said he didn’t know. When it was getting dark, the woman would send him to his room. Then one of her men would bring him dinner, and he never remembered what he did after he ate it or how he fell asleep.
But even though the painter got more than enough time to rest, he felt very weak and got worse every day.
The painter was almost done with the portrait when, one night, he saw something that frightened him. He had been so weak the whole day he couldn’t eat his dinner when they brought it. It was the first time it took a while before he fell asleep. His sleep wasn’t as deep as usual, and after a short time, he was awakened by the neighing of horses and some bustling.
When he looked out of the window, he saw that two of the men who lived in the house were dragging a girl to the backyard. She struggled, trying to get free and making noises that sounded like suppressed cries. The painter was stunned. He didn’t know what to do. He thought maybe he should tell Ms. Murray what he had witnessed. He walked out of his room and searched the first floor, but he didn’t find anybody. Assuming that she was asleep upstairs, he decided to try to find out what those men wanted from that woman. Perhaps she was a whore, or she had stolen something from them? And if they planned to do something unsavory, he could threaten to wake Ms. Murray. These men obeyed her, after all.
He went outside and kept close to the bushes as he quietly got around the house. He saw an outbuilding in the backyard. Voices, one of which was female and sounded familiar, drifted from the open door. The painter cowered behind the bushes and crept to the closest window, then looked through it.
What he saw confused him even more. In the middle of the mostly empty room, lit by about a dozen large candles, sat Ms. Murray. All her men stood around her. The girl was tied to a chair, and Ms. Murray looked at her with a delighted expression on her face. The girl stared back with pleading, tear-filled eyes.
“I like her. Good job, gentlemen,” said Ms. Murray with a smile.
“We are glad to please you, Ma’am,” said one of the men.
“I bet she tastes good, too.”
The painter’s mouth fell open. Was that a joke? Or was this some kind of game? Very stupid and very violent, but a game nonetheless?
“Gregor, did anybody see you?” Ms. Murray asked.
“No, Ma’am. She was praying in the church, all alone,” said the man.
“I see.” She stood up, walked to the girl, and pulled the gag out of her mouth. “Your God is so helpful.” She laughed.
“Please, please, let me go, please,” begged the girl. Her lips shook, and tears streamed from her wide-open eyes.
“Oh, sorry, dear, I can’t. You see.” Ms. Murray clutched the girl’s jaw and pulled up her head. “I’m hungry and you’re my dinner,” she said with an evil smile. “And I’m going to have it right now. Untie her,” she commanded, letting go of the girl.
The second the girl got free, she ran toward the open door. In a twinkling, Ms. Murray was standing right in front of her, even the painter hadn’t seen her move. She grabbed the girl and pressed her to herself.
At that moment Ms. Murray’s face changed. The painter couldn’t see every detail, but he was sure he saw fangs sticking out of her mouth, and something had happened to her eyes.
The girl screamed in horror.
“You’re going to sing for me? So nice of you.” Ms. Murray turned to her men. “Are you sure the painter is asleep? If he hears any of this, I’ll have to kill him before he finishes my portrait.”
The painter froze.
“I gave him his dinner more than an hour ago. I’m sure he’s asleep,” said the youngest of the men.
“Shut the door, just in case,” she said, then growled and bent to the girl’s neck.
The moment the door closed, the terrified painter headed back to the house as fast as he could. All he wanted was to run away from that place. But it was impossible—he didn’t know where he was, and even if he knew, he wouldn’t make it far; he was too weak.
He returned to his room. Shaking, he sat on the chair and looked suspiciously at his untouched dinner. To make the plate look like it usually did after he finished with it, he took the knife and fork and sliced everything into small pieces, then threw half of the food out of the window into the bushes.
The painter was sure that when he finished the portrait, Ms. Murray would kill him. But to his surprise, when the work was done a few days later, he was taken home and paid as promised.
When Martha told him they were vampires, he said that he had supposed as much, but he was afraid to share his story with anybody else. Even in town like Lynchburg, which people called Satan’s Kingdom, nobody would believe him.
“Was he really poisoned?” asked Fray after Martha finished the story.
“It was a very powerful soporific mixture, and I think it’s the reason she let him go. His blood wasn’t good. I gave him a potion, and when he came to me y
esterday, he was feeling much better.”
“He came back? Why? What did he want this time?”
Martha stood up, walked to the old cabinet, and pulled from its drawer a piece of parchment.
“He brought me this,” she said, handing the parchment to Fray. “I told him I know people who can take the vampires down. He thought that this might help you find them.”
What Fray was looking at was a drawing, from which a young woman looked back at him with her cold blue eyes. The ends of her black, arched brows were hidden under black wavy locks on her temples. The rest of the hair was pulled back and collected in a high bun. Her contoured lips expressed a barely perceptible, mysterious smile.
“Mesmerizing, isn’t it?” said Martha.
It was, and that possessing gaze pierced Fray. The face had an attractive zest that brought up curiosity and excitement, both unusual for Fray. He looked at Martha on the other side of the table. The elderly witch stared at him, unblinking, like she was trying to read his thoughts.
“Fray, she is evil,” she said pointedly. “All I see behind that beauty is a coldblooded, evil bitch.”
“Don’t worry,” Fray said, irritated, “I remember who I am and who I’m fighting against.” He stood up and walked to the big fireplace made of river rocks. “Is there anything you can do to help me find the manor? Maybe some locator spell?”
Martha looked at the drawing.
“I’ll see if I can locate her. If she’s not too far, it can work.”
She stood up and went back to the cabinet, smoothing her white apron. On its left side was a door. She took out a key from the small, narrow drawer and unlocked it.
“Take the parchment and come with me,” she said.
She led him to a modest square room with only one small window on the wall opposite to the door. Under the window stood a chest of drawers with several figurines and crystal balls on it. The walls were lined with shelves filled up with dusty boxes, bottles and jars. Some of them contained turbid liquids, others held powders and an array of dry herbs and flowers.
Martha put the parchment on the round table in the middle of the room and lit three candles around it. She took a jar with silver powder from a shelf and sprinkled a pinch of it on the drawing. Then she closed her eyes, held her hand above the picture, and began to whisper.