Once Upon A Midnight

by Stephanie Rowe

  The moisture in his eyes and the love in his voice touched her deeply. She hugged him tight. “Thank you, brother. Please don’t get killed.” She looked at her father, younger brother, and cousin. “None of you are allowed to be killed, do you understand?”

  Marius laughed. “If you want us to return in one piece, daughter, then you must bestow your blessing upon us.”

  Cosmin, Sorin, Stefan, Marius, and the rest of the hunting party stepped forward with heads bowed.

  Dana didn’t quite know what to do or say, but at her grandmother’s nod, she recited a prayer for protection. “Surround these men in light and love, keep them on the righteous path, and shield them with your grace, oh Blessed Virgin. Guide them in your wisdom and deliver them from evil for they are your humble servants.” She made the sign of the cross, and for extra measure, unsure why she even did it, lifted the pendant, closed her eyes, and pictured them all cocooned within the red glow. The room lit up around the group of men briefly before fading away.

  Each of them lifted their heads, and a few wiped tears from their eyes. Dana smiled at them. “Now, go catch that bad vampire, and let us find our sister, Meghan, before it is too late.”

  ###

  Mark felt like a sledgehammer had bashed his skull. He tried to move, but his limbs wouldn’t respond. He felt as weak as a kitten which was highly unusual since he possessed supernatural strength. Voices filtered in through the darkness that still threatened to pull him back under.

  “Is it strong enough to hold him?”

  “It’s made with silver and iron. Just lock it into place.”

  “We need help lifting him. Grab that end and heave on the count of three.”

  The whole world tilted. Mark experienced a tossing motion akin to being on a ship at sea during a storm. It ended quickly. Another voice broke through.

  “I think this is his horse.”

  “A fine animal,” someone replied. “Tie him to the back of the wagon.”

  The rocking motion began again, but this time, he was sure it was due to the wagon mentioned. He tried to crack open an eye, and caught sight of the starry sky through the heavy-lidded slits. “Meghan?” he croaked out.

  “Be quiet, vampire! You will be confessing soon enough.”

  The sharp rebuke angered him. He wanted to snap the fool’s neck. Did he know who he was talking to? He supposed he probably did since the man called him ‘vampire’. Still, in his weakened condition, he could do nothing about it—yet.

  The lethargy and pain in his limbs had Mark simmering in searing agony. He knew he was surrounded by silver and iron bars, a cage. He was locked inside and unable to break free. He tried opening his eyes again checking the position of the moon. There were at least three hours until dawn. If they left him outside on the back of the wagon, the sun would kill him. If they tried to carry him into one of the homes without an invitation, that would kill him too. The only good alternative was if they put him inside the barn or one of the work sheds. Both might protect him from the sunlight if he was lucky, and neither required an invitation.

  His eyes glanced left and right. He saw only the sides of the wagon. Wooden slats. His ears detected only male voices. His senses, though lacking their usual strength, could not locate Meghan. He reached out with his mind and came back empty. No trace of her. He tried to speak again. “Where is she?”

  A young man around the age of twenty-two or twenty-three peered over at him from the front of the wagon. He appeared strong with a face that would appeal to the fairer sex. “You will not touch her, Strigoi! She is ours now. Part of our family. She is protected, you understand?”

  Mark focused on him, seeing past his features and into his mind. “I would never harm Meghan, Sorin.”

  Sorin sucked in a breath. “Devil!”

  Mark chuckled. “No, not a devil, just a mind-reader. Where is she? She was with me, but I can’t sense her. Is she okay?”

  Sorin didn’t know what to say. He glanced back at Stefan who rode beside him on the bench of the wagon holding the reigns of the horses pulling it.

  Stefan heard the exchange and his brows came together. “What do you mean she was with you?”

  “We were in the glen. She was about to come back to the house,” I think, “when I somehow passed out. I don’t remember how that happened. One moment we were talking, and the next, all was black. Did you find her with me?”

  Stefan pulled on the reigns bringing the wagon to a stop. He leaned over and stared at the vampire in the cage. He’d never seen a Strigoi before. To him, it just looked like a man, but his cousins had warned him that it was simply not so. They also said not to listen to anything it said because evil always speaks to deceive, but what this thing was saying didn’t make any sense. If it wanted Meghan, and it had her, how did it lose her?

  He looked at his cousin. “Sorin, where, exactly, did the pendant show Meghan to be?”

  “Near the university. In Old Town.” They looked at each other.

  Mark blew out a breath. “Petrescu!” The anger in his voice spiked.

  “Another Strigoi?” Sorin looked at the vampire in the cage.

  “No. He is not a vampire. He is very human. He is one of you!”

  “One of us?” Stefan asked. “There is no one in our clan by that name.”

  “He is older than all of you, as old as myself. He’s a professor at the university, and he wants Meghan. Has always wanted her.”

  None of it made sense to them. Cosmin walked up and knocked the side of the wagon with the butt of his rifle. “Stop talking to it! It lies.”

  Stefan and Sorin jumped. Mark grunted. “I have no need to lie. I love her. I would never harm her. But someone has taken her, and the only person who could do it, would even consider it is Petre Petrescu. He is Lovarya, and the thorn in my existence.”

  Cosmin snorted. “See? Lies! The Lovarya have been extinct as a clan for centuries. They are only stories around a campfire now.”

  “And yet he is alive,” Mark muttered. “While you waste your time with me, he is the one who threatens her life. It happened then, and it is happening again.” The disgust in his voice was only partially directed at the gypsy men. Most of it was reserved for himself. Once again, he’d let her down. Once again, Petrescu had taken his woman. He knew it. There was no other explanation, and the monster that lived inside of him was desperate to get out, find the man, and rip him to shreds until only his bloodied, disembodied parts remained.

  “If you don’t listen to what I am telling you, he will kill her.”

  Cosmin snarled. “You just said he wanted her, this person. If that is true, why would he kill her?”

  Mark locked eyes with the man. He took in the stout build and broad upper body, but it was the pugnacious set to his face that told the vampire this man was not one to be easily manipulated. The fact that he had some difficulty worming his way inside the gypsy’s mind showed real strength of will.

  “Because she will refuse him just as she did then. And he will kill her…again.”

  Cosmin grabbed the side of the wagon, lifting his foot to find a hold on the wheel, and hoisted himself up and over. He stood staring down into the cage. “You will explain yourself, and then you will tell me where we can find Miss Hartley or I will leave you in the middle of this field to greet the rising sun.”

  Mark knew he was serious, but that didn’t matter. What did matter was that the man was now listening. He launched into the shortest possible version of his and Meghan’s history. All of the men had gathered around the wagon. Each stood in silence taking in his words. When he finished relaying the important facts, the one called Stefan spoke up having grasped onto a single detail.

  “How did you become Strigoi? You said you were on your way to find Meghan’s past self, but you did not make it, that you somehow blacked out. Do you not know your maker, vampire?”

  The question seemed unimportant to Mark. “No, I’ve never met him or her. Why is that important? Time is slipping awa
y and here we sit with you asking irrelevant questions!” He spoke in anger, but they ignored him. Instead, each looked at the other, and Mark couldn’t break through their thoughts. They’d each thrown up a mental shield. Damn gypsies!

  “Get him back to the barn,” Cosmin told Sorin and Stefan. “I’ll ride ahead with Marius to the house. We need to speak to Dana right away.” He jumped off the wagon landing on the ground. Without a backward glance, he rejoined an older man who stood holding the reigns of two chestnut geldings. They mounted and rode off.

  Stefan flicked the reigns and the wagon rolled. It took fifteen minutes to reach the barn, and another nearly thirty minutes before they could unhitch the horses leaving Mark in the cage still loaded on the flatbed. Both walked out, locking the barn door as they went.

  He looked around the dark interior. It smelled of hay and manure. There were a few gaps in the wooden slats of the walls, but none he could detect where they left him. At least I’m covered. Seems they aren’t ready to kill me just yet. He yanked at the iron bars. Steam rose from the contact as the metal burned his skin. He let go almost immediately. I can’t fail you again, Mihaela. Not again. Mark hung his head low as pain worse than his fresh burns ripped at his soul.

  Chapter Eleven

  DANA SAT QUIETLY. She’d just heard a long and convoluted tale that made her eyes cross. Next to her, her grandmother chewed her thumbnail silently. Everyone in the family waited with bated breath to hear what their elder and their clan shaman made of the new development.

  “It is possible that the one who made him was destroyed before it could mentor its newest progeny, right?” Dana looked sideways at her grandmother.

  “No. If the maker had been destroyed, then this vampire would not have completed the process of turning. This is something else.” Adina Lazar Veleru looked at Cosmin. “And he says this Petrescu is human? That he is of the Lovarya?”

  Cosmin nodded.

  Adina reached for the box on the table. She caressed the worn wood. “There are tales passed down to me from my own grandmamma. She told my mother that the gifts we have,” she reached over and absently patted Dana on the knee, “came from the most powerful Romani witch ever there was. Her name was Magdalena or so I have been told. Legend says she was Lovarya, but it was so long ago, there are no witnesses to confirm these stories. Still…,” she sat thinking. “I know that at one time, both clans were at war with each other until the leading families of each clan ended the strife through the marriage of their children. That is how Curarya and Lovarya combined and became one. The ruling and surviving clan is our own because the groom was of the Curarya.” She looked up at them all. “If you cannot beat them in battle, marry their women and breed out the enemy. That is what my grandfather used to say.”

  “Do you think that this man is telling the truth, grandmamma?” Dana asked.

  “It is possible, but only one way to know for sure.”

  “How?”

  “We must go confront him.” Adina stood up and pulled her red shawl around her thin shoulders. “Come, Dana. It is time to face your fears.”

  Remembering the panicked feeling being in his presence caused, Dana stayed seated, her eyes wide as she beseeched her grandmother silently. Adina would have none of it.

  “Stand up, Dana Maria Veleru! You are now the clan shaman. The power that is unleashed inside of you will protect you from the Strigoi. He cannot harm you anymore. Now, you can destroy him with a thought.” She pointed at the pendant hanging around her neck. “It has chosen you. It will protect you. Trust in that.”

  Dana clutched the smoky quartz stone without thinking and it warmed in her hand. “Why did it never choose you, grandmamma? You had it in your possession all these years. You’ve been our shaman. Are you saying you’ve done it without this power?”

  Adina chuckled. It was a deep and aged sound. “My granddaughter, the gifts I possess need no talisman. Come. We go to confront this vampire. We will get our truth, and then we will plan.”

  ###

  “Where am I?” Meghan came to the way the sun rises, slowly, and with increasing awareness.

  “My home. Do you like it?”

  That voice. She knew it. It had made her skin crawl more than once. Meghan turned her head looking around the room. It was dark, lit by a single overhead bulb. The walls were concrete and stone, and she could feel a draft coming in from one of the small windows placed high on the opposite wall. She tried sitting up, but rope kept her tied down on the wide cot that she noticed was chained to the stones behind her. She glanced up quickly finding the source of the disturbing voice and glared at Petre Petrescu.

  “What the hell have you done? What is this?’ She tugged at the ropes binding her.

  The man laughed with derision. “Don’t fret over that. It is temporary.” He reached up to run his hand through his unbound hair smoothing it back. Squatting down next to the cot, he began caressing her cheek. “I’ve waited a very long time for this reunion, Mihaela.”

  Meghan shivered, a bad feeling slinking over her. She jerked her face away from his touch, but this only made him angry. He gripped her chin and forced her to look at him.

  “Do not turn from me! You were to be mine, and you will be. Old Magdalena promised I would have a second chance and here you are.” His anger seemed to roll in and out like the tide. The glare in his dark eyes subsided as a look of longing replaced it. The grip he had on her chin and jaw relaxed as his thumb rubbed her lower lip. “Perhaps this is a better version of you, my sweet. A more modern Mihaela.”

  His voice dropped to a husky whisper as his face loomed over hers. Meghan wanted to vomit at his nearness, and the madness in both his expression and his words scared the hell out of her.

  She needed to keep him talking, try to find a way out of this mess. “What are you talking about?” Meghan tried to keep her tone soft, non-confrontational.

  “I watched you,” he said.

  Her eyebrows rose in surprise. “Watched me?”

  “Yes. I watched you give to him what you denied to me.” He stretched his fingers out sliding them up and into her hair, twirling the strands around. Petrescu waited for her response, and seeing her disgust, gripped her hair yanking it painfully until she cried out.

  “Stop!” she gasped.

  “That’s better. An honest response.” He smiled. “That is what I like to see from you. But back to what I was saying…” he loosened his hold and resumed playing with her honey-blonde hair. “You play the whore beautifully, you know. It was quite seductive watching you let go, even if it was with that bastard, son-of-a-pig nobleman! He is a monster, Meghan. Did you know that?” He pulled her hair again.

  “Ow!”

  He leaned down and kissed her open mouth shoving his tongue inside. Meghan gagged, squirming and tossing her head to break the contact. He bit her lip drawing blood, and she screamed. Her efforts seemed only to further amuse and encourage him. Petre pulled back, chuckling.

  “Who is the monster, Professor?” She spat.

  “I am as human as you, Miss Hartley, I promise.”

  “That’s impossible given what I know.” She shot daggers at him with a flash of her eyes.

  “Oh really? And what is it you know, pray tell?” He smiled, bemused.

  “I know you’re over eight-hundred years old.”

  He flicked his fingers dismissively, his pinky ring flashing. “A trifling detail for I have not aged.”

  “And that you were nothing but an abusive bully to this Mihaela. She didn’t want you. She never wanted you. You disgusted her! You disgust me!” The heat of her words felt good in the moment, but Meghan feared they may have been rash.

  His expression changed from amused to angry. “You were mine, and he took you! Don’t you see? Our families were meant to be aligned. You were meant to be my wife, to bear my children, and all of that was taken by that entitled fool! That is why I made the pact with Magdalena, my soul for you, for revenge on Anghelescu.”

  Thi
s surprised Meghan. He was dead serious talking about things she’d only ever read in books; fictional books. “You bartered your soul? Why would you do that?” It seemed absurd.

  He softened. “Because, I loved you.”

  “You don’t know what love is, Petre. You can’t abuse and bully someone and then claim to love them.” She kept her tone cautious and light.

  He leaned in again cradling her head. “You could have shown me the right path. I would have done anything for you, Mihaela. I would do anything now. Just…love me.” He sounded defeated, old, and very tired. His anguish sounded sincere.

  “What happened to Mihaela that night? What did you do to her…to me?” Meghan needed to stall for time, but she also needed answers. Something inside of her was awakening, and she didn’t quite know what it was, but it demanded the truth.

  The shutters came halfway down as his defenses rose up. Despite that initial reaction, Petrescu seemed to recognize what might be his only opportunity to explain himself, to win her over.

  “I followed you,” he said. “I had been following you for weeks every time you went off to meet with Anghelescu. I watched you with him, always so open, so loving. You never showed that to me.” He began stroking her hair away from her forehead exhibiting an unnerving tenderness. “Your father came to our home, did you know that?”

  Meghan noticed he seemed to be confusing her with the person she was supposed to have been so long ago. He really was truly mad, and she was afraid. She shook her head no, trying to remain as calm and quiet as possible.

  “Well, he did. Simion came and told my father that the marriage between us was off, no discussions. On what was supposed to be our wedding day! He said your happiness mattered the most to him, and I didn’t make you happy, that you’d fallen for the son of our benefactor and landlord, Dragos Anghelescu. He sounded very convincing, but my father had already heard rumors. He knew that the son paid a high price to obtain you, more than my father could afford, and our family was considered rich by Romani standards. When he left, my mother tried to console me, and my father warned me to stay away from you. He said ‘Son, she is no longer worthy of a Petrescu. She’s the whore of a gagiu nobleman now. She is nothing.’ I was devastated, both that you had lost your way, and that, in turn, caused me to lose you.” He sat back on his heels and sighed. “I did not understand what you saw in him. Still, I couldn’t stay away. I followed you. I watched you together.” A faraway look entered his eyes as he spoke softly. “When he touched you, I wanted to scream.” Petrescu ran his hand down Meghan’s neck slowly.