The crowd responded with clapping and whistles; men huzzahed and women cheered.
"It being so long since we've all been together -- indeed, there are members of the family I have just met -- that I feel it is time to do a little administration."
Groans.
Andrei made a patting motion with his hands. "Settle down. I have brought a treat for us afterward. I promise you all will enjoy."
He stuck his hand in a pocket and cocked his hip. He looked impishly around at the crowd.
"Annika, Jorge and Wilhelm. I believe it is time for you all to die. Annika, you've been living in Prague for over a century. It is time you moved on. At least for a generation. So the people can forget."
A woman, dark haired and finely featured, nodded, frowning.
Jorge, a brooding dark man with heavy whiskers, blurted, "But I've only been in Sao Paolo for...I don't know...sixty years. Why must I die?"
Andrei turned to stare at the younger man. "You must be joking. Even in Arezzo we've heard of the Saci, the encantado, the bloodthirsty elf king." He tsked, shaking his head. "Jorge, you've been indiscreet. It's time for you to die. Eh. No arguments. You may have three years to wrap things up."
He turned to Victoria. "And you, youngling. Do you want to remain here, in this backwater? Or would you move on?"
She raised her head, pushing back her shoulders. "I would leave, Father. I would see the world, now that I am grown."
He clapped his hands together. "Wonderful. Please come stay with me in Italy for a few years and we can find a new location for you to dwell. Your first change is very important; make sure you converse with your family here. They have countless years experience at their disposal. They can advise you well, if you would listen."
He turned back to the crowd. "A few announcement and then on to the...treat. You all might have noticed Arthur D'Ensemal's absence here tonight. I am sorry to inform you that he has died, true death. Betrayed by his valet."
There were gasps and exclamations around the room. He held up a razor sharp finger. "I share your outrage. But I must admonish you all; do not allow your servants too much freedom. Make sure they are trustworthy. Test them. Torture them if you must, but bend them to your will. Yes, yes, Cross. I know this is an old lecture. But I repeat; we are weak. Horribly weak. Sun can kill us. We require servants to survive, to protect us while we sleep. Our only strength is our longevity. Our hungers expose us. Do not allow yourself to become complacent. So tonight, I will workshop with you all individually; we will find ways together to make us all safer.
^t ^t ^t"I will be hearing nominations for membership in the family. Remember, the minimum net worth of the individual must be in excess of fifty billion. In euros, not American. And it would be nice if we could get some artists amongst us. But I realize that the minimum fiscal requirements preclude those of...an artistic bent. Of course, you may always sponsor a membership." Andrei smiled at Cross, sitting at the piano. His old valet.
Suddenly, a loud thump sounded through the mansion, and the entire family turned unblinking eyes towards the recessed doors that lead past the sitting parlor and into the foyer.
Renie walked into the room, her white nurse-like uniform smudged with dirt and blood. With strength fueled by desperation, Renie carried two small bodies, one under each arm. She moved like a stevedore on a wharf, heavy laden and slow. When she arrived at the center of the gathering, she spilled the children to the floor.
Looking around, her face filled with a sort of ecstatic joy, eyes moving from each pale, reflective face to another.
“So beautiful. Like paintings,” she whispered to herself.
She surveyed the crowd, mesmerized. The foreign faces studied her like birds, black eyes taking in everything and revealing nothing. Hesitantly, her hands went to her hair, and tried to repair the unruly mess, tucking a strand behind her ear. Her eyes fell on Victoria.
Of all the faces, Victoria's resembled a painting the least. Her fury stood clear on every feature; eyes narrowed, jaw taut, neck ticking with inaction.
She stepped towards Renie, grabbing her hand and digging in her claws.
“What have you done, you little fool? Brought children here?” Victoria said in a low voice.
Andrei laughed, throat rich with mirth. Victoria whipped her head around to glare at the man. He shrugged, crossing his arms, an unspoken taunt lingering between him and the white haired woman.
She turned back to Renie. “I told you to leave. And now you've jeopardized everything, me, the party. Yourself, you...you...”
Renie paled. “I just...I just wanted to be here with you, ma'am. Look, I brought you...everyone...a present.”
She gestured at the unmoving forms on the floor. The children were trussed and duct-taped solidly, their fat flesh straining at the bindings.
Victoria bent awkwardly in her dress and felt their throats.
“You best hope to whatever god you hold dear that these children are living.” She held there for a while, probing. She looked up and her eyes searched Renie's face while her hands searched for life.
Victoria sighed, standing. She straightened the front of her dress and looked towards Andrei. He lifted his eyebrows at her as if to say, “It's your party. What are you going to do now?”
She spoke loudly, so that the room might hear. “William. Sweet William. I must ask you to fetch a valet, yours preferably. Have these children taken to...”
She turned towards Renie, hand out. “Where did you take them from?”
Renie looked pole-axed. She turned around at the room, slowly moving her body. Her limbs felt heavy and dumb. Horror grew on her face as she saw the blank expressions on the faces of the party-goers. As her eyes travelled the room, they came to rest on the grinning aspect of Andrei, forked beard and full lips. He smiled at her, showing his teeth.
“Answer, fool!” Victoria hissed, grabbing the woman's arm again and yanking her. Renie collapsed to her knees.
“Gethsemane,” she whispered. “I took them from Gethsemane.”
“William, have your valet fill their pockets with money and dump them in a field to the west. Far, far west. If they remember anything, it will be of an evil woman dressed in white. Don't drink from them William, I beg you.”
William winked at her and walked to the children on the floor. He scooped them up easily, and with the grace of a dancer, exited the hall.
Andrei moved to stand by Victoria, eyes bright and full of mirth.
“I'm wondering how you're going to handle this, Victoria. It seems that adulthood has already brought you adult decisions.”
Victoria's face clouded, her eyes narrowed. “You old devil, you're enjoying the situation. The little idiot has endangered us all.”
“Of course she did. She was ensnared by all the glamour.” He twisted his voice on the last word, making it seem like a curse.
“Nonsense. She disobeyed my direct instructions.”
The group of party-goers were speaking amongst themselves, laughing. Victoria passed a hand over her eyes.
This is bad but I can salvage the situation.
She turned to Andrei. “Thank you for your concern, but I have it under control, Father. I will deal with this myself.”
She turned back to Renie, bent down and took the woman by her upper arms, drawing her up, inexorably.
Like dancers, Victoria held Renie, looking into her face. She moved the younger woman towards the head of the table and sat her down at the banquet table, which gleamed in front of the woman. Renie tilted her head downward, limp and near insensible. The bone china sat luminous and delicate before her.
“I have told you many times that I value your service, Renie. I truly do. However, I cannot tolerate disobedience. Too much is at stake. Sit here. Do not move.”
Victoria moved away, walking imperiously out of the banquet hall.
Guests passed near Renie, sniffing. One woman reached forward and pinched the meat of her arm.
“She's a nice o
ne. Heavy, but fit. You could feed off of her for quite a while.”
The man with her laughed. “Looks like Victoria has been keeping this one as her own private vintage.” He nodded towards Renie's wrists.
The woman clucked. “We all have to eat, somehow. Who can blame her? Sometimes servants come to enjoy it.”
Victoria re-entered the room, bearing a wine bottle. The man and woman moved away. She picked up a cobalt and crystal wine glass and slowly twisted it in her hand.
“Renie,” she said slowly, carefully choosing the words. “I am glad you have been able to join the party. It is only fitting that the person who worked so hard on the preparations was able to attend.”
She poured a glass of deep red wine for Renie and set it in front of her.
“Drink. It will help.”
Renie raised her eyes toward Victoria. She allowed herself to feel a little hope. She raised the glass and drank.
“You're drinking Chateau Cheval Blanc. A 1953 vintage. Quite rare. My father put twenty cases of these down. This bottle is the last. What do you think?”
Renie swallowed, the rich wine painting strange and complex flavors in her mouth, on her tongue.
“It's...it's delicious,” she stammered. “It's like spices and meat and earth and...I don't know what else.”
Victoria laughed, her throat moving up and down. “Sounds like blood.”
The younger woman did her best to smile at that.
Victoria's face clouded and she knelt again, keeping her back straight, trying not to muss her dress.
She whispered to Renie, “I'm horribly disappointed in you. I cannot believe you would disobey me in front of all of my guests. They must all think I'm a dolt, to have someone like you as a maidservant. It's a surprise I've lived as long as I have. It does not matter that you didn't understand the gravity of my situation. I told you what I wanted you to do, and you did not obey. What were you thinking?”
She paused, raising her lips to show sharp, triangular teeth.
“I'm not a monster, child, as much as the world and my own nature might try and make me one. I won't slit your throat because you've disobeyed me, even though I might like to right now. But I must punish you, publicly, in front of everyone here. Do you understand?”
Renie nodded again, eyes welling with tears. “I'm sorry ma'am. I just wanted to be a part of...”
“Oh, you've gotten that wish, girl.” She poured more wine into Renie's glass. “More than you might've bargained for. Drink. Drink it all.”
Renie gulped it down.
Victoria closed her eyes, thinking. Her white hair wreathed her face and the candlelight made her face seem rosy and near human.
She opened her eyes and said, “Renie, to expiate your disobedience, you must not only serve me, you must serve every guest here tonight, should they so choose. Do you understand? You will feed whomever wishes, until they are sated. Do you hear? Only this way can I forgive you and make sure that you understand the consequence of disobedience. And if you live, tomorrow night we will flee this place.” She shook her head mournfully. “You ended our idyllic life here when you brought those children through the front door, you little idiot.”
One last time, Renie nodded, here eyes going wide with Victoria words. Then she smiled, a rapturous look on her face.
“You...this excites you?”
“It's what I was made for, ma'am. I serve.”
Victoria shook her head in wonder. “You surprise me.” She leaned close and whispered in Renie's ear. “I don't want to lose you. Fight. Fight me. Fight us all. But try and stay alive through the night.”
She placed her hand on Renie's and squeezed. They stayed like that for a while, Victoria pouring wine and Renie drinking, until the bottle was gone. Such a strange turn of events, me pouring for her, thought Victoria. Then she turned to towards the room and rapped a spoon on the empty glass, its vibrations reverberating throughout the hall.
“Everyone! Everyone! I would like to introduce you all to my maidservant...” she looked down into Renie's face, then back up to the crowd, ”...and my valued friend...Renie Littlefield!”
The crowd moved towards the table, encircling it. Bright black eyes, like the eyes of raptors, circled them. Andrei stood at the other end of the table, hands in his vest pockets, grinning over the black blooms of orchids.
“Renie has been my steadfast assistant in the planning and organization of this little...get together. And tonight, she has graciously offered to provide supper for us all.” Victoria nodded her head towards the table, motioning the guest to pick up their glasses.
Victoria picked up a knife from the table and leaned forward to take up one of Renie's hands. The blade dug deep into her wrist and blood flowed.
“Quickly now, everyone take up your glasses. Tonight we'll be civilized.”
The party took cobalt glasses in hand and moved single file past Renie, each one stopping to get an ounce or so of blood. The family didn't need much; it was life they consumed, not blood alone. Renie smiled at them blearily as they passed. When the last of the guests had reddened their glasses, they resumed their places at the banquet table.
Andrei boomed. "Here's to our birthday girl! To Victoria! Happy Birthday! May you have a thousand more. "
Under her breath, Victoria added, “And to Renie. Live, girl. Live.”
She smiled, showing her teeth to Andrei, raising up her glass, crimson crystal above the bone white china.
They drank.
SNEAKING IN
Dad will beat me bloody if he finds me gone, Lark thought.
He watched the illuminated face, listening. Once the clock wound itself to midnight, the boy knew his parents would be deep in their cups, eyes cauterized by the glare of the television, ears deaf with canned laughter. He stood up from the bed, clothes rumpled, and went to the bedroom door, opening it slowly, his head cocked, ear toward the gap. The floor creaked and he held still, listening. Satisfied, he turned and walked quietly to the window. It opened stiffly, a low rasp coming from the wood.
Immediately the room warmed, hot night air wafting past him. Hooking a leg over the sill, he shimmied out into the night, onto the roof then over the edge, gripping the gutter with his hands and...whisk, down the drainage vent onto the carpet of grass.
He paused outside his parent's illuminated bedroom window, the TV inside casting flashing light against the curtains and panes. The boy imagined he could hear the ice in their glasses tinkling, see the soft inhalations of blue cigarette smoke. His fingertips brushed the window sill, and he heard a muffled, “Get me ‘nuther, willya?” Dad. The boy smiled and padded off towards the garage.
From the driveway, he retrieved his bike, kicked his leg over the seat and pushed off into the dark.
Legs pumping, he topped Millstone hill and coasted down the mile long slope on the other side. Taking his hands from the handlebars, he rocked back further onto the banana seat, balancing on the bike with the grace of a bird. He dug into his pockets, pulling a rumpled pack of Kent’s he’d filched from his mother, and rolled them into his shirt sleeve.
The tires buzzed upon the asphalt. Small beads of sweat prickled along his forehead, temples, the small of his back.
The stars were strewn out against the sky and the cicada whirred their droning song as he rode into the summer night, sweat now cooling on his skin. Trees in the darkness whipped by him, silent in his passage. Wind in his face, he pushed back his bangs, legs moving lazily as he raced down the hill. He felt fierce, strong and free as an eagle hunting the night’s arteries of air. He held out his arms like wings and felt the surge of blood and...anticipation.
Colleen is waiting. She’ll be at her window and I’ll flick the lighter twice and she’ll climb out just like I did. Maybe she’ll be wearing her nightgown and nothing else. Tonight will be the night. I know it.
Millstone hill’s long slope finally past, the boy began pedaling again, closing fast on De Soto Creek. The wooden slats of the narrow bri
dge rumbled as his tires passed over them, the water black, quick and gurgling below. Once past the creek, he pulled off onto the gravel road and half-stood on the bike, hands now gripping tight on the handlebars. The boy’s bike crunched on the gravel, cocooning him in sound.
His blood rose, like sap in the trees. The forest pressed closer on both sides, the crunch of his bike supplanting the cicada’s song.
It was getting harder to see. A thin veil of clouds hid the once bright stars from view, a slight mist rose from the creek some hundred yards behind the trees to his right. Occasionally, fireflies flickered and streaked by him like falling stars.
Really pedaling now, the boy hunched over the bars. His chest worked like a bellows, heaving in and out huge drafts of air.
Can’t slow down. Can’t slow down. If I slow down, the skeeters gonna get me.
Then, the trees at his sides receded, he turned onto the pavement of Highway 161. The cessation of the gravel under his wheels startled him. Grown so used to the sound of wheels on gravel, its absence was glaring. He remembered what it meant.
Almost there. Almost there. Just past the Brainyard farm and into the graveyard...
Once the Brainyard farm was on his right he moved his bike into the grass alongside the house and behind it, where Plum Bayou came just close enough to kiss Old Man Brainyard’s property.
Stopping his bike, just for a moment, the boy caught his breath, looking at the house.
I know this house...I know these windows, these windowpanes. How many nights did I wait for her, tossing pebbles? I bet Old Man Brainless is in that room...right there, right now, snoring away into the night. If you opened your eyes, old man, you might see the eagle perched here on your land...if you had opened your ears, you might've heard them, the pebbles. You might’ve heard her going up into the attic...
His eyes strayed towards the attic’s dormer window. Abruptly, the boy leaned forward into his bike and pushed off, his sneakers making wet indentations in the thick grass.
Fierce as the Grave: A Quartet of Horror Stories Page 7