Connects with: Upon the Heights of Alma, Sepia and Silver, Where Night is Blind & Tragic Silence
Red Sky at Night © December 2020 E. C. Hibbs
Budapest, Austria-Hungary
October 1918
I had known some worrying times in my life, seen my share of horror, but never had I felt as though the entire world were shattering around me. First, the Great War had broken out – a war which, after four long years, had been lost. And the very country I stood in was among its casualties, lying as dead as its poor men. Now there was only darkness and blood. Enough blood to make all the rivers of Europe run red.
“What are you thinking about, Benjamin?”
I sighed, drew the curtain over the window, and turned to look at Éva.
“Too many things,” I muttered.
She gave a tiny shake of her head. “So dramatic.”
She beckoned for me, and I came to the chair at her bedside. Even now, in the throes of illness, she was as beautiful as she had been on the day I married her. Over two decades had passed since then, yet it could just as easily have been two weeks. Her black hair was limp, but still long and thick. Her brilliant blue eyes shone as they always had, from a pale face bruised with fatigue.
The war had been terrible enough, then the Spanish Influenza had swept through like wildfire. We had managed to avoid the first wave, but now, at the crescendo of everything, Éva had caught it. She hadn’t left the bed for a fortnight. She burned to the touch, trembling as though she had walked for miles in the rain.
I plucked at the mask across my face. I wanted nothing more than to tear the infernal thing off. I could scarcely breathe; every time I did, the thick material was sucked into my mouth like a gag. But I had to wear it. The disease was so contagious, so vicious, even being in the same room as her spoke of danger. But I wouldn't leave her. Not now.
“Norman will be home soon,” I said. “His train was due to arrive an hour ago.”
“You should go and meet him.”
“No, I’m staying right here. Erik has gone to collect him.”
Éva swallowed. I heard her muscles constricting, working harder than they should need to. I took her hand in mine, and ran my thumb over the thin scar on the underside of her wrist.
She noticed, and managed a small smile.
“It will be alright. It always is.”
Her words were brave, but they still stung me. When we were younger, living in England together, she had been infected with vampirism. If she had completed the transformation, she would not have been able to survive outside her homeland, so I’d arranged to have her smuggled away on a steamship. But when I had joined her, with our infant son in my arms, I was stunned to find another vampire had reversed her condition, and left her human again.
I ground my teeth at the irony of it all. Back then, I had been glad for such salvation. But now, as she lay helpless before me…
“Where is he?” I asked.
She understood my meaning immediately.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Éva…”
“Nem. I know what you are thinking. You want to bring him to me, get him to turn me again, so I might fight this off and survive? Benjamin, I can’t go through it a second time.”
“Not even to save yourself? If you take venom again, it will destroy the sickness! Please… I know he’s in the cemetery. It’s why you’ve walked there so often, always at night. I know you are still in contact with him. Please just tell me where I can find him! Tell me who he is!”
“He would never do it,” Éva replied.
“You can’t be certain of that,” I insisted.
“But I am. He told me. He would never wish it upon me, condemn me to what he must endure. And I don’t want it, either. This is the way it must be.”
She drew in a shaky breath and coughed: a horrid, dry hacking sound which made me shudder. It was so like a death rattle already, even as she sat up against her pillows, focused on me, spoke normally. Her warm, lovely voice: so deceptively quiet. It belied the strength she held beneath a gentle, unassuming exterior.
I closed my eyes, and prayed that same strength would hold now – even as I knew it could not.
“It would have been better if you had never turned back,” I murmured.
I didn’t mean it, not truly – desperation possessed my tongue and let out my sorrow like a waterfall upon icy rocks. But Éva understood, and squeezed my hand.
“Benjamin, look at me,” she said. “I would rather have aged as I have, with you and Norman; known human life, and let it be over now… than endure eternity without you.”
My heart wrenched to hear her. I held her tighter, as though that might be enough to anchor her. But the end was nigh. She might be talking and lucid now, but every moment hence was precious. Each one was a step closer, never to be regained.
Tears stung my eyes. I did not try to stop them. She raised her other hand to my face, and brushed her fingers through my hair. Even that tiny movement trembled.
“God, I just want to kiss you,” I cried.
Éva managed a small smile. “Then kiss me with words. Give me a poem, my dear.”
I sobbed. Whenever life became too difficult for me, I had resorted to the lyrical lines of the Romantics to express myself. She had always understood that, encouraged me; drank up the meaning in my voice as I recited into empty air.
I locked my gaze onto her, switched back to my native English, so the rhyme and meaning could translate better. Then I let out perfection: everything which I needed to say.
“She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes;
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o’er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express,
How pure, how dear their dwelling place.
And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent.”
She chuckled to herself. “Shelley?”
I shook my head. “Byron.”
“Oh. I can never keep track…”
A cough snatched her voice away. When she breathed again, it was a gasp, as though her lungs were closing on themselves. A little of the light dulled in her eyes.
I fetched a glass of water, and held the back of her neck, to help her sip it. Most of it missed her mouth and soaked into her nightgown. I quickly wiped it away.
“Please fight,” I whispered, in Hungarian again. I didn’t dare speak too loudly. Some ludicrous part of me feared that if I did, the sheer volume would beat at her like a gale.
Minutes passed, though they felt more like years. Then I heard an automobile engine outside. I leapt to the window and drew back the curtain. Two men were stepping onto the pavement: one middle-aged, the other in his early twenties, clad in the blue uniform of the Austro-Hungarian Army.
Erik Farkas, Éva’s cousin; and our son, Norman. Joy and relief tangled together with the dread and sorrow in my heart.
“Norman,” I muttered. “He’s home, my dear! Norman’s here!”
I didn’t waste a moment. I caressed Éva's face, then washed my hands in the basin and ran downstairs. Within seconds, I had wrenched the front door open and drawn my boy into my arms.
I cried as I held him. It had been almost two years since I had seen him last, and the change in him was incredible. He was now as tall as me, and the body beneath my hands was solid muscle. When I looked into his face, so much of his mother gazed back at me. He had my blonde hair, but his eyes were a striking blue colour, and if a man might be considered beautiful, then he was the epitome of it. Even the horrors of the Front Line had not been enough to chisel that away.
“Apa, it’s so good to see you,” Norman said tearfully.
“Oh, thank God,” I breathed. “Erik, thank you so much for meeting him.”
Erik shook his head. “It was no trouble. How is Éva?”
“You’ve arrived not a moment too soon,” I replied. “Come in.”
Norman’s cheeks paled. He grabbed his duffel bag from the back seat, and the three of us hurried inside. I led them to the bedroom, then hesitated, with my hand on the doorknob. Erik had sat with her that very morning; he knew what he was walking into. But Norman…
I went to speak words of comfort to him. He was my dear son, my only child, and I still saw the boy I had raised in the man before me. I recalled holding his wrists as I taught him to walk; perching at his bedside and telling him stories. I wanted to protect him from this. But then I realised the absurdity in such a notion. He had spent years in action; more than I ever had. A steeliness crept across his face as he withdrew into himself, preparing for what lay on the other side of the door. Another battle. Another defeat.
What had those eyes, once so innocent, been forced to look upon every single day?
I squeezed his shoulder with all the strength I could muster, then passed him and Erik a mask each.
Éva turned her head as we entered. Already, in those few minutes I had been gone, she appeared worse. Her gaze roved about as though chasing a firefly. When she breathed, the air barely filled her lungs.
I hung back as Norman flew to her side.
“Anya,” he said in a quiet voice.
She smiled warmly. “God, you’ve grown. Oh, my boy…”
She ran her fingers over his cuff, as though unable to believe he was really there. A sob closed around my throat. Hidden from view, Erik grasped my arm. I felt him shaking.
Beneath my skin, my entire body tore in two. I couldn’t move, couldn’t bear to; and yet I wanted nothing more than to find that vampire, bring him here and beg him to turn her again. Even if it didn’t work, was it worth the attempt? To have maintained a friendship with her for over twenty years, surely he would try if he were to actually see her.
But probability turned tyrant and forced me down; grabbed hope by the throat, pushed it under a heaving surface to suffocate. I could do that, attempt to seek him out, but if I left this room, I might not make it back in time. My beautiful beloved was so weak now. Every inhale was an effort. She stopped caressing Norman, and just held his hand.
“She’s cold,” Norman whispered. The mask stifled his voice, but we still heard him.
Erik shook out another blanket and laid it over Éva. She glanced at him, beckoning weakly.
“Erik,” she rasped. “Erik, listen to me.”
“I’m here,” he said. “Can I do anything else for you?”
She nodded once. “Promise me something.”
“Of course. What?”
“Don’t… ever walk in Kerepesi after dark.”
All three of us frowned.
“The cemetery?” Erik uttered.
“Please…”
Éva's eyelids fluttered. I stepped closer, my feet like lead, and stood at Norman’s side.
Over her head, we all shot a perplexed glance at each other. The three of us knew about the vampire, about her, about everything. It had scarcely been a secret within the family. But she had always been adamant about keeping us away from him, and we had respected her wishes enough to not press the matter.
But why Erik, specifically?
He opened his mouth to ask her. She shook her head, and coughed again.
“Just don’t,” she said. Her eyes slipped from his, to mine, then up to the ceiling.
“Anya?” whispered Norman.
“I love you,” she wheezed. “I love all of you…”
She breathed out. Her chest dipped, and did not rise.
Horror wrapped itself around my throat. Norman leaned closer, pressed two fingers to her wrist. His face fell.
I wanted to speak, to crumble, to do anything. But all I could manage was to stand there, dumb, unable to look away from her as the last spark of life faded forever. And within its cage of ribs, my heart broke, lying in fragments amid an equally broken world.
“What are you thinking about, Benjamin?”
I sighed, drew the curtain over the window, and turned to look at Éva.
“Too many things,” I muttered.
She gave a tiny shake of her head. “So dramatic.”
She beckoned for me, and I came to the chair at her bedside. Even now, in the throes of illness, she was as beautiful as she had been on the day I married her. Over two decades had passed since then, yet it could just as easily have been two weeks. Her black hair was limp, but still long and thick. Her brilliant blue eyes shone as they always had, from a pale face bruised with fatigue.
The war had been terrible enough, then the Spanish Influenza had swept through like wildfire. We had managed to avoid the first wave, but now, at the crescendo of everything, Éva had caught it. She hadn’t left the bed for a fortnight. She burned to the touch, trembling as though she had walked for miles in the rain.
I plucked at the mask across my face. I wanted nothing more than to tear the infernal thing off. I could scarcely breathe; every time I did, the thick material was sucked into my mouth like a gag. But I had to wear it. The disease was so contagious, so vicious, even being in the same room as her spoke of danger. But I wouldn't leave her. Not now.
“Norman will be home soon,” I said. “His train was due to arrive an hour ago.”
“You should go and meet him.”
“No, I’m staying right here. Erik has gone to collect him.”
Éva swallowed. I heard her muscles constricting, working harder than they should need to. I took her hand in mine, and ran my thumb over the thin scar on the underside of her wrist.
She noticed, and managed a small smile.
“It will be alright. It always is.”
Her words were brave, but they still stung me. When we were younger, living in England together, she had been infected with vampirism. If she had completed the transformation, she would not have been able to survive outside her homeland, so I’d arranged to have her smuggled away on a steamship. But when I had joined her, with our infant son in my arms, I was stunned to find another vampire had reversed her condition, and left her human again.
I ground my teeth at the irony of it all. Back then, I had been glad for such salvation. But now, as she lay helpless before me…
“Where is he?” I asked.
She understood my meaning immediately.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Éva…”
“Nem. I know what you are thinking. You want to bring him to me, get him to turn me again, so I might fight this off and survive? Benjamin, I can’t go through it a second time.”
“Not even to save yourself? If you take venom again, it will destroy the sickness! Please… I know he’s in the cemetery. It’s why you’ve walked there so often, always at night. I know you are still in contact with him. Please just tell me where I can find him! Tell me who he is!”
“He would never do it,” Éva replied.
“You can’t be certain of that,” I insisted.
“But I am. He told me. He would never wish it upon me, condemn me to what he must endure. And I don’t want it, either. This is the way it must be.”
She drew in a shaky breath and coughed: a horrid, dry hacking sound which made me shudder. It was so like a death rattle already, even as she sat up against her pillows, focused on me, spoke normally. Her warm, lovely voice: so deceptively quiet. It belied the strength she held beneath a gentle, unassuming exterior.
I closed my eyes, and prayed that same strength would hold now – even as I knew it could not.
“It would have been better if you had never turned back,” I murmured.
I didn’t mean it, not truly – desperation possessed my tongue and let out my sorrow like a waterfall upon icy rocks. But Éva understood, and squeezed my hand.
“Benjamin, look at me,” she said. “I would rather have aged as I have, with you and Norman; known human life, and let it be over now… than endure eternity without you.”
My heart wrenched to hear her. I held her tighter, as though that might be enough to anchor her. But the end was nigh. She might be talking and lucid now, but every moment hence was precious. Each one was a step closer, never to be regained.
Tears stung my eyes. I did not try to stop them. She raised her other hand to my face, and brushed her fingers through my hair. Even that tiny movement trembled.
“God, I just want to kiss you,” I cried.
Éva managed a small smile. “Then kiss me with words. Give me a poem, my dear.”
I sobbed. Whenever life became too difficult for me, I had resorted to the lyrical lines of the Romantics to express myself. She had always understood that, encouraged me; drank up the meaning in my voice as I recited into empty air.
I locked my gaze onto her, switched back to my native English, so the rhyme and meaning could translate better. Then I let out perfection: everything which I needed to say.
“She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes;
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o’er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express,
How pure, how dear their dwelling place.
And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent.”
She chuckled to herself. “Shelley?”
I shook my head. “Byron.”
“Oh. I can never keep track…”
A cough snatched her voice away. When she breathed again, it was a gasp, as though her lungs were closing on themselves. A little of the light dulled in her eyes.
I fetched a glass of water, and held the back of her neck, to help her sip it. Most of it missed her mouth and soaked into her nightgown. I quickly wiped it away.
“Please fight,” I whispered, in Hungarian again. I didn’t dare speak too loudly. Some ludicrous part of me feared that if I did, the sheer volume would beat at her like a gale.
Minutes passed, though they felt more like years. Then I heard an automobile engine outside. I leapt to the window and drew back the curtain. Two men were stepping onto the pavement: one middle-aged, the other in his early twenties, clad in the blue uniform of the Austro-Hungarian Army.
Erik Farkas, Éva’s cousin; and our son, Norman. Joy and relief tangled together with the dread and sorrow in my heart.
“Norman,” I muttered. “He’s home, my dear! Norman’s here!”
I didn’t waste a moment. I caressed Éva's face, then washed my hands in the basin and ran downstairs. Within seconds, I had wrenched the front door open and drawn my boy into my arms.
I cried as I held him. It had been almost two years since I had seen him last, and the change in him was incredible. He was now as tall as me, and the body beneath my hands was solid muscle. When I looked into his face, so much of his mother gazed back at me. He had my blonde hair, but his eyes were a striking blue colour, and if a man might be considered beautiful, then he was the epitome of it. Even the horrors of the Front Line had not been enough to chisel that away.
“Apa, it’s so good to see you,” Norman said tearfully.
“Oh, thank God,” I breathed. “Erik, thank you so much for meeting him.”
Erik shook his head. “It was no trouble. How is Éva?”
“You’ve arrived not a moment too soon,” I replied. “Come in.”
Norman’s cheeks paled. He grabbed his duffel bag from the back seat, and the three of us hurried inside. I led them to the bedroom, then hesitated, with my hand on the doorknob. Erik had sat with her that very morning; he knew what he was walking into. But Norman…
I went to speak words of comfort to him. He was my dear son, my only child, and I still saw the boy I had raised in the man before me. I recalled holding his wrists as I taught him to walk; perching at his bedside and telling him stories. I wanted to protect him from this. But then I realised the absurdity in such a notion. He had spent years in action; more than I ever had. A steeliness crept across his face as he withdrew into himself, preparing for what lay on the other side of the door. Another battle. Another defeat.
What had those eyes, once so innocent, been forced to look upon every single day?
I squeezed his shoulder with all the strength I could muster, then passed him and Erik a mask each.
Éva turned her head as we entered. Already, in those few minutes I had been gone, she appeared worse. Her gaze roved about as though chasing a firefly. When she breathed, the air barely filled her lungs.
I hung back as Norman flew to her side.
“Anya,” he said in a quiet voice.
She smiled warmly. “God, you’ve grown. Oh, my boy…”
She ran her fingers over his cuff, as though unable to believe he was really there. A sob closed around my throat. Hidden from view, Erik grasped my arm. I felt him shaking.
Beneath my skin, my entire body tore in two. I couldn’t move, couldn’t bear to; and yet I wanted nothing more than to find that vampire, bring him here and beg him to turn her again. Even if it didn’t work, was it worth the attempt? To have maintained a friendship with her for over twenty years, surely he would try if he were to actually see her.
But probability turned tyrant and forced me down; grabbed hope by the throat, pushed it under a heaving surface to suffocate. I could do that, attempt to seek him out, but if I left this room, I might not make it back in time. My beautiful beloved was so weak now. Every inhale was an effort. She stopped caressing Norman, and just held his hand.
“She’s cold,” Norman whispered. The mask stifled his voice, but we still heard him.
Erik shook out another blanket and laid it over Éva. She glanced at him, beckoning weakly.
“Erik,” she rasped. “Erik, listen to me.”
“I’m here,” he said. “Can I do anything else for you?”
She nodded once. “Promise me something.”
“Of course. What?”
“Don’t… ever walk in Kerepesi after dark.”
All three of us frowned.
“The cemetery?” Erik uttered.
“Please…”
Éva's eyelids fluttered. I stepped closer, my feet like lead, and stood at Norman’s side.
Over her head, we all shot a perplexed glance at each other. The three of us knew about the vampire, about her, about everything. It had scarcely been a secret within the family. But she had always been adamant about keeping us away from him, and we had respected her wishes enough to not press the matter.
But why Erik, specifically?
He opened his mouth to ask her. She shook her head, and coughed again.
“Just don’t,” she said. Her eyes slipped from his, to mine, then up to the ceiling.
“Anya?” whispered Norman.
“I love you,” she wheezed. “I love all of you…”
She breathed out. Her chest dipped, and did not rise.
Horror wrapped itself around my throat. Norman leaned closer, pressed two fingers to her wrist. His face fell.
I wanted to speak, to crumble, to do anything. But all I could manage was to stand there, dumb, unable to look away from her as the last spark of life faded forever. And within its cage of ribs, my heart broke, lying in fragments amid an equally broken world.
*
Time passed in a blur. By the end of each day, the surroundings seemed even more unsure and insane than they had been in the morning.
After fifty years as one of the strongest powers in the world, Austria-Hungary was no more. Now, the Hungarian People’s Republic stood covered in its own ashes. Revolutionaries marched through the streets and seized buildings across Budapest. The Hapsburg realm fractured and shrank to nothing. An armistice was signed and evacuations began. I worried that Norman would be called away to assist, but to my relief, the Army left him be. He had enough to deal with.
We kept Éva in the house, laid on ice, while the city endured the death of itself. With such chaos all around, her funeral would not be a grand affair. Nothing like the processions which I had attended in England.
I couldn't help but think back on those times, when we were young. That was before the world was fed to the wolves. Queen Victoria had sat upon the throne and we stood at the gates of prosperity. How could so much have happened in two decades?
The bed looked so awfully empty without Éva. She had not slept beside me since being taken ill, but now, it held a weight in its bareness. A few strands of her hair were still scattered upon the pillow. On her nightstand lay the silver locket she had always worn, strewn atop a sepia photograph of herself and her parents. She was but a babe in the image, with no memory of its creation, but it was the only memento of her family she had possessed.
I ran my hand over the quilt, trying to imagine it was her body I was caressing, but the fancy fled from me before I could grasp it. Instead, I leaned across the mattress and fetched my cane. I tugged the top. It came loose, and a long thin blade slid from within the wooden shaft.
I had no need of it for mobility, but I liked to carry it. It had belonged to my father.
A knock sounded on the door.
“Come in,” I said.
Norman appeared. He had changed into a black suit and slicked his hair back. Dullness still clouded his eyes, as though he were looking through them from a thousand miles away.
“How are you, Apa?” he asked.
“I will be fine,” I sighed.
I stood before him and cupped his face in my hands. Even now, the change in him stunned me. My little boy was gone. He was every inch a solider, hardened more from these past few years than I had been throughout my entire life.
“I can’t believe it,” Norman muttered. “Everything’s going to change now, isn’t it?”
It was not a question, and it needed no answer. The passing of our dear matriarch, the end of the Empire… Never had I felt so rootless. And, in a strange way, it was doubly worse for us. Norman had been raised in Austria-Hungary. He was Magyar, for all intents and purposes, like his mother. But not me. I was the foreigner. When I spoke Hungarian, it was still with the lilt of English. And now, my country’s alliance had defeated this one’s.
I was not a stranger, but a strange land split open around me; transformed what I had known into empty lines and ghosts of whatever it had formerly been. It occurred to me that I no longer stood upon soil which so surely held its own identity. It was just earth, with buildings and flags inserted into it; men crawling about on its surface and crying out in various tongues about how they had a right to possess it.
I chose my words with care.
“I think… we should perhaps seek sanctuary elsewhere. Back in England.”
Norman bristled. “The enemy land?”
“My land,” I corrected. “And Austria-Hungary wasn’t fighting the British.”
“They were still on the side of our enemies.”
“Don’t split hairs, Norman. You have a connection to England, too. You were born there.”
“But this is home,” he insisted. “I’ve been gone for so long, and…”
“Son,” I said, “there isn’t anything left now. You fought well, all of you, but the losing side always has the larger pieces to pick up. Things will get worse before they get better, but they don’t have to, not for us.”
Norman shook his head. “But it’s running away!”
“No, it’s being sensible,” I replied. “Think of your Anya. She left everything behind for a better life.”
“That was different,” said Norman. “She was in danger. She would have died if she’d completed the transformation outside the Hungarian borders.”
“Igen, she would,” I agreed. “But she still took the chance. There was nothing left for her in England. There is nothing left for us now, in this place. The world is changed. We need to think clearly, and decide on where we can be safest.”
Norman cast his eyes down. “I don’t want to leave her here.”
“Neither do I,” I said, taking his shoulder. “But she would not want us to remain anywhere for the sake of a memory. And we will lay her beside her own mother. I have faith that they will care for each other in Heaven.”
I glanced at the photograph again. Éva herself was held between her parents, both of them young and striking. Her face had been her mother’s, but the raven hair came from her father.
“Then what about Uncle Erik?” asked Norman.
“I’ll ask him to come with us. Him and Peter, both, when he’s back from the Navy.”
“I don’t think either of them will be as open to the idea as I am, Apa.”
“Well, I can but enquire.”
Melancholy crept into my voice. Erik had been widowed for several years, and like me, had waved his son off down the road of war. Both of them were as Hungarian as it was possible to be.
I sighed. I was widowed now, too. Another misfortune which brought our families even closer together.
“Apa?” Norman said suddenly, “why do you think Anya told him not to go to Kerepesi Cemetery?”
“I don’t know. It’s something to do with the vampire, that’s for certain. Have you ever seen him at all?”
“Nem. She just told me it needed to be a secret.”
That made me frown even deeper. Vampirism had never been a taboo subject in our family, but Éva had asked to keep the relationship with her saviour clandestine, and I trusted her enough to respect that. Out of all of us, Erik was the one with the most tainted view – as a child, he had witnessed both his parents and Éva’s mother being drained dry. When I’d revealed my own father had been one, it had taken me years to convince Erik that they were not all creatures of darkness.
He had eventually come around, but what was Éva’s reasoning? Erik had raised her until she was nineteen; until the time she sailed to England and met me. She knew she could trust her cousin, especially with whoever who had saved her life.
“She mentioned no name?” I asked half-heartedly.
Norman shook his head.
I closed my eyes. “Well, I suppose it makes no nevermind now. I just wish he could have rescued her a second time.”
I turned back to her nightstand and touched the locket, as though it were her hand. Then I fetched my coat and left the room, Norman at my side.
Slowly, the funeral guests arrived. There were only a few of us: friends and acquaintances who had managed to spare a couple of hours amid the commotion of the outside world. They greeted us with solemn smiles, shook our hands and expressed their sympathies. I tried to thank them, but knew it did not reach my eyes.
I glanced at the mantel clock. I had asked for it to be stopped at the time Éva had let out her last breath. Now, she lay before us against the parlour wall, dressed in her wedding gown, a strip of lace tied under her chin and two coins over her eyes. The coffin stood surrounded by white candles, sunflowers and roses. I had deliberately avoided lilies. Éva told me, a long time ago, how she hated their smell.
Norman, Erik and I sat in the front while the priest led the service. I kept my attention fixed on her, and imagined that pale body as it had been: so full of life. My sweet darling, so delicate and yet so indomitable. In my mind, I saw past her high collar, to the neck I had so tenderly kissed, and the scar which marked the place where she had been turned.
If only…
The final prayers were uttered, the lid closed over her beautiful face, and the coffin placed inside a horse-drawn hearse. I would never see that face again now, not until I myself was called to the garden of the Lord.
Norman, Erik and I climbed into a black carriage at the head of a line of traffic. After several long minutes, the procession rattled over the Danube, through the streets, and into the cemetery.
As we passed the gates, Erik and I shared a glance. The sun would not set for another six hours, but still, I felt my teeth on edge. Here, Éva had been wont to walk, always alone, always in darkness. Here, her mysterious saviour lingered in the shadows.
We disembarked before a line of mausoleums. The one at the end waited for us with its doors open. Opposite it stood a life-size angel, wings spread wide towards the overcast sky. By daylight, the place was beautiful in a sombre way, but I couldn't help wondering whereabouts the vampire had concealed himself. He might be anywhere. This cemetery was the largest and grandest in the city, filled with both trees and artwork etched in stone.
A tiny smile traced my lips. So much green. Yes, Éva would be contented here, as she had always been. Forever.
Norman, Erik and I hoisted the coffin onto our shoulders, and carried it into the mausoleum. The stale air wafted up my nose, filled with dust which had lain undisturbed for decades. I supposed the last time this place had known living breath was when Éva’s mother had been interred. This was her family’s crypt: all that was left of a once-wealthy name.
Near a staircase, leading to a second level under the ground, stood a stone sarcophagus. I hadn’t been able to bear the idea of her being slid into one of those tiny chambers which lined the walls. No, even if none were to see her after this day, she would be the centre of attention again: the belle of the ball, as she had been when I first laid eyes on her.
The coffin was lowered inside. It fit perfectly, and as the lid was pushed into place, I read the epitaph I had chosen for her.
After fifty years as one of the strongest powers in the world, Austria-Hungary was no more. Now, the Hungarian People’s Republic stood covered in its own ashes. Revolutionaries marched through the streets and seized buildings across Budapest. The Hapsburg realm fractured and shrank to nothing. An armistice was signed and evacuations began. I worried that Norman would be called away to assist, but to my relief, the Army left him be. He had enough to deal with.
We kept Éva in the house, laid on ice, while the city endured the death of itself. With such chaos all around, her funeral would not be a grand affair. Nothing like the processions which I had attended in England.
I couldn't help but think back on those times, when we were young. That was before the world was fed to the wolves. Queen Victoria had sat upon the throne and we stood at the gates of prosperity. How could so much have happened in two decades?
The bed looked so awfully empty without Éva. She had not slept beside me since being taken ill, but now, it held a weight in its bareness. A few strands of her hair were still scattered upon the pillow. On her nightstand lay the silver locket she had always worn, strewn atop a sepia photograph of herself and her parents. She was but a babe in the image, with no memory of its creation, but it was the only memento of her family she had possessed.
I ran my hand over the quilt, trying to imagine it was her body I was caressing, but the fancy fled from me before I could grasp it. Instead, I leaned across the mattress and fetched my cane. I tugged the top. It came loose, and a long thin blade slid from within the wooden shaft.
I had no need of it for mobility, but I liked to carry it. It had belonged to my father.
A knock sounded on the door.
“Come in,” I said.
Norman appeared. He had changed into a black suit and slicked his hair back. Dullness still clouded his eyes, as though he were looking through them from a thousand miles away.
“How are you, Apa?” he asked.
“I will be fine,” I sighed.
I stood before him and cupped his face in my hands. Even now, the change in him stunned me. My little boy was gone. He was every inch a solider, hardened more from these past few years than I had been throughout my entire life.
“I can’t believe it,” Norman muttered. “Everything’s going to change now, isn’t it?”
It was not a question, and it needed no answer. The passing of our dear matriarch, the end of the Empire… Never had I felt so rootless. And, in a strange way, it was doubly worse for us. Norman had been raised in Austria-Hungary. He was Magyar, for all intents and purposes, like his mother. But not me. I was the foreigner. When I spoke Hungarian, it was still with the lilt of English. And now, my country’s alliance had defeated this one’s.
I was not a stranger, but a strange land split open around me; transformed what I had known into empty lines and ghosts of whatever it had formerly been. It occurred to me that I no longer stood upon soil which so surely held its own identity. It was just earth, with buildings and flags inserted into it; men crawling about on its surface and crying out in various tongues about how they had a right to possess it.
I chose my words with care.
“I think… we should perhaps seek sanctuary elsewhere. Back in England.”
Norman bristled. “The enemy land?”
“My land,” I corrected. “And Austria-Hungary wasn’t fighting the British.”
“They were still on the side of our enemies.”
“Don’t split hairs, Norman. You have a connection to England, too. You were born there.”
“But this is home,” he insisted. “I’ve been gone for so long, and…”
“Son,” I said, “there isn’t anything left now. You fought well, all of you, but the losing side always has the larger pieces to pick up. Things will get worse before they get better, but they don’t have to, not for us.”
Norman shook his head. “But it’s running away!”
“No, it’s being sensible,” I replied. “Think of your Anya. She left everything behind for a better life.”
“That was different,” said Norman. “She was in danger. She would have died if she’d completed the transformation outside the Hungarian borders.”
“Igen, she would,” I agreed. “But she still took the chance. There was nothing left for her in England. There is nothing left for us now, in this place. The world is changed. We need to think clearly, and decide on where we can be safest.”
Norman cast his eyes down. “I don’t want to leave her here.”
“Neither do I,” I said, taking his shoulder. “But she would not want us to remain anywhere for the sake of a memory. And we will lay her beside her own mother. I have faith that they will care for each other in Heaven.”
I glanced at the photograph again. Éva herself was held between her parents, both of them young and striking. Her face had been her mother’s, but the raven hair came from her father.
“Then what about Uncle Erik?” asked Norman.
“I’ll ask him to come with us. Him and Peter, both, when he’s back from the Navy.”
“I don’t think either of them will be as open to the idea as I am, Apa.”
“Well, I can but enquire.”
Melancholy crept into my voice. Erik had been widowed for several years, and like me, had waved his son off down the road of war. Both of them were as Hungarian as it was possible to be.
I sighed. I was widowed now, too. Another misfortune which brought our families even closer together.
“Apa?” Norman said suddenly, “why do you think Anya told him not to go to Kerepesi Cemetery?”
“I don’t know. It’s something to do with the vampire, that’s for certain. Have you ever seen him at all?”
“Nem. She just told me it needed to be a secret.”
That made me frown even deeper. Vampirism had never been a taboo subject in our family, but Éva had asked to keep the relationship with her saviour clandestine, and I trusted her enough to respect that. Out of all of us, Erik was the one with the most tainted view – as a child, he had witnessed both his parents and Éva’s mother being drained dry. When I’d revealed my own father had been one, it had taken me years to convince Erik that they were not all creatures of darkness.
He had eventually come around, but what was Éva’s reasoning? Erik had raised her until she was nineteen; until the time she sailed to England and met me. She knew she could trust her cousin, especially with whoever who had saved her life.
“She mentioned no name?” I asked half-heartedly.
Norman shook his head.
I closed my eyes. “Well, I suppose it makes no nevermind now. I just wish he could have rescued her a second time.”
I turned back to her nightstand and touched the locket, as though it were her hand. Then I fetched my coat and left the room, Norman at my side.
Slowly, the funeral guests arrived. There were only a few of us: friends and acquaintances who had managed to spare a couple of hours amid the commotion of the outside world. They greeted us with solemn smiles, shook our hands and expressed their sympathies. I tried to thank them, but knew it did not reach my eyes.
I glanced at the mantel clock. I had asked for it to be stopped at the time Éva had let out her last breath. Now, she lay before us against the parlour wall, dressed in her wedding gown, a strip of lace tied under her chin and two coins over her eyes. The coffin stood surrounded by white candles, sunflowers and roses. I had deliberately avoided lilies. Éva told me, a long time ago, how she hated their smell.
Norman, Erik and I sat in the front while the priest led the service. I kept my attention fixed on her, and imagined that pale body as it had been: so full of life. My sweet darling, so delicate and yet so indomitable. In my mind, I saw past her high collar, to the neck I had so tenderly kissed, and the scar which marked the place where she had been turned.
If only…
The final prayers were uttered, the lid closed over her beautiful face, and the coffin placed inside a horse-drawn hearse. I would never see that face again now, not until I myself was called to the garden of the Lord.
Norman, Erik and I climbed into a black carriage at the head of a line of traffic. After several long minutes, the procession rattled over the Danube, through the streets, and into the cemetery.
As we passed the gates, Erik and I shared a glance. The sun would not set for another six hours, but still, I felt my teeth on edge. Here, Éva had been wont to walk, always alone, always in darkness. Here, her mysterious saviour lingered in the shadows.
We disembarked before a line of mausoleums. The one at the end waited for us with its doors open. Opposite it stood a life-size angel, wings spread wide towards the overcast sky. By daylight, the place was beautiful in a sombre way, but I couldn't help wondering whereabouts the vampire had concealed himself. He might be anywhere. This cemetery was the largest and grandest in the city, filled with both trees and artwork etched in stone.
A tiny smile traced my lips. So much green. Yes, Éva would be contented here, as she had always been. Forever.
Norman, Erik and I hoisted the coffin onto our shoulders, and carried it into the mausoleum. The stale air wafted up my nose, filled with dust which had lain undisturbed for decades. I supposed the last time this place had known living breath was when Éva’s mother had been interred. This was her family’s crypt: all that was left of a once-wealthy name.
Near a staircase, leading to a second level under the ground, stood a stone sarcophagus. I hadn’t been able to bear the idea of her being slid into one of those tiny chambers which lined the walls. No, even if none were to see her after this day, she would be the centre of attention again: the belle of the ball, as she had been when I first laid eyes on her.
The coffin was lowered inside. It fit perfectly, and as the lid was pushed into place, I read the epitaph I had chosen for her.
In Loving Memory Of
ÉVA JONES (KÁLVIN)
1875-1918
Tiger And Lamb,
Beloved By All
ÉVA JONES (KÁLVIN)
1875-1918
Tiger And Lamb,
Beloved By All
I laid my hand on the stone, where her head would be. Then I let poetry overtake me; speak truer words than I might ever be able to muster.
“But I have lived, and have not lived in vain:
My mind may lose its force, my blood its fire,
And my frame perish even in conquering pain;
But there is that within me which shall tire
Torture and Time, and breathe when I expire;
Something unearthly, which they deem not of,
Like the remembered tone of a mute lyre,
Shall on their softened spirits sink, and move
In hearts all rocky now the late remorse of Love.”
The dance of language lingered on my tongue, filling the empty silence that would only know blackness henceforth. In the heartbeats which followed, I almost imagined I could hear weeping, somewhere far away, as though even angels lamented my Éva.
I clung to my cane like a plank of wood in a stormy sea. How was I expected to walk away now? The mere act of turning around, as I had done thoughtlessly through my entire life, now held the weight of moving the Earth.
A hand appeared on my arm.
“Come on,” whispered Erik. “We need to go.”
I bit my lip. With a strength which felt almost hollow in its pain, I allowed him to lead me away, back into the light. Behind me, the heavy metal door swung shut. The sound ripped through my body as though I were nothing but paper and air.
“Well done,” Erik said.
“You too,” I replied.
“Nice poem.”
“Thank you. I thought it appropriate.”
“Did you write it?”
“Heavens, no,” I said. “I can’t write a thing. I just… The use of the language speaks to me in a way most everyday conversation can’t. It always has.”
“You were born in the wrong time, weren’t you?” Erik muttered kindly. “You’re of the old era, not one like this. You’re a century too late.”
I had to agree with him. How much simpler life seemed to have been back then. Of course, there had been problems – Napoleon had wreaked havoc on Europe long before the Great War – but still. To have walked at the same time as my idols; breathed the same air as Coleridge, Keats, Clare…
I shook my head. Fancies, nothing more.
Desperate for distraction, I turned my attention to Norman. The other mourners swarmed him, alternating between words of compassion and relief at seeing him returned in one piece. I knew several of them had lost sons, some younger than him.
He accepted all the comments in a manner which I would have been proud of, were I not so broken, or so horribly aware of how he had come to be taciturn. One day, perhaps, I would find the courage to ask him about the life he had spent away from us. What had forced my little boy to grow up so quickly? I pictured his face splattered with blood, of enemies and friends alike…
So much, so soon. I never would have thought, after four long years of watching the world destroy itself, that anything could happen too soon. But it did.
I looked past the carriages, out into the forest of stone. I tried to ignore the reminders that we were among the dead; that the greenery beneath my feet was fed by the matter of men and women. It was pretty, and serene: an oasis in the middle of the fractured city. No matter what happened beyond its walls, Éva would be safe here. Her mother and all her ancestors lay around her in that mausoleum, to guard her and protect her.
And somewhere out there…
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” asked Erik.
I turned to him. “The vampire?”
He nodded. It was a tight movement, as though the muscles in his neck were seizing up, trying to prevent him from uttering a single word about the creatures.
“Did she really think me so unaccepting that I couldn’t bear the knowledge of her rescuer?”
“I don’t know. She never spoke a word to me, either,” I said. “And, God, how I wish she had.”
Erik sighed. “I wish things had been different. Until I met you, I believed no vampire was capable of being saved. I didn’t even believe they were human. But seeing what I did… can you blame me?”
“Not in the least,” I said earnestly. “It was all you knew.”
“And I would wish such an experience upon no other,” Erik shuddered. “I’ve tried to forget it so many times, but I suppose some people are just born with tragedy in their blood. My father… He was a good man, the best I’ve ever known. He strove to rid the entire country of evil. And one broke free before he could exorcise it, killed him in front of us all. Éva’s mother, too. I can still see it…”
He broke off, his face whiter than snow.
“You never caught that vampire, did you?” I asked.
“Nem, we didn’t,” said Erik with a shudder.
I kept silent. It was difficult to admit before such wanton cruelty as that, but was it truly any different to what men did to each other every day? Were the events we had just lived through not proof enough of what wickedness all were capable of, without a single drop of venom in their veins?
I squeezed Erik's shoulder. At the touch, he cleared his throat, drawing himself up taller in an attempt to disguise his distress. But it wasn’t a thick enough skin to fool me. He looked how I felt. His eyes were red with sorrow, and his brow had creased with worry lines. Peeking from under his hat, I even saw the occasional shot of silver against his brown hair.
He was not particularly old: barely past fifty. However, he reminded me of how my own father had turned grey early, as the stains upon his soul ate at him from the inside out. Erik might not have fought in any wars, yet the scars were still there: the type which nobody could see.
I decided against mentioning England to him now. Neither of us were in any fit state to bear that conversation.
Norman approached, and we walked away from the mausoleum. Every step pained me as though I were treading upon sharp knives. I kept my hand tight on the cane, though I knew it was a farce. If I were to stumble, it would not help me remain upright. Nothing would, ever again, now my dear wife was shut into darkness.
“But I have lived, and have not lived in vain:
My mind may lose its force, my blood its fire,
And my frame perish even in conquering pain;
But there is that within me which shall tire
Torture and Time, and breathe when I expire;
Something unearthly, which they deem not of,
Like the remembered tone of a mute lyre,
Shall on their softened spirits sink, and move
In hearts all rocky now the late remorse of Love.”
The dance of language lingered on my tongue, filling the empty silence that would only know blackness henceforth. In the heartbeats which followed, I almost imagined I could hear weeping, somewhere far away, as though even angels lamented my Éva.
I clung to my cane like a plank of wood in a stormy sea. How was I expected to walk away now? The mere act of turning around, as I had done thoughtlessly through my entire life, now held the weight of moving the Earth.
A hand appeared on my arm.
“Come on,” whispered Erik. “We need to go.”
I bit my lip. With a strength which felt almost hollow in its pain, I allowed him to lead me away, back into the light. Behind me, the heavy metal door swung shut. The sound ripped through my body as though I were nothing but paper and air.
“Well done,” Erik said.
“You too,” I replied.
“Nice poem.”
“Thank you. I thought it appropriate.”
“Did you write it?”
“Heavens, no,” I said. “I can’t write a thing. I just… The use of the language speaks to me in a way most everyday conversation can’t. It always has.”
“You were born in the wrong time, weren’t you?” Erik muttered kindly. “You’re of the old era, not one like this. You’re a century too late.”
I had to agree with him. How much simpler life seemed to have been back then. Of course, there had been problems – Napoleon had wreaked havoc on Europe long before the Great War – but still. To have walked at the same time as my idols; breathed the same air as Coleridge, Keats, Clare…
I shook my head. Fancies, nothing more.
Desperate for distraction, I turned my attention to Norman. The other mourners swarmed him, alternating between words of compassion and relief at seeing him returned in one piece. I knew several of them had lost sons, some younger than him.
He accepted all the comments in a manner which I would have been proud of, were I not so broken, or so horribly aware of how he had come to be taciturn. One day, perhaps, I would find the courage to ask him about the life he had spent away from us. What had forced my little boy to grow up so quickly? I pictured his face splattered with blood, of enemies and friends alike…
So much, so soon. I never would have thought, after four long years of watching the world destroy itself, that anything could happen too soon. But it did.
I looked past the carriages, out into the forest of stone. I tried to ignore the reminders that we were among the dead; that the greenery beneath my feet was fed by the matter of men and women. It was pretty, and serene: an oasis in the middle of the fractured city. No matter what happened beyond its walls, Éva would be safe here. Her mother and all her ancestors lay around her in that mausoleum, to guard her and protect her.
And somewhere out there…
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” asked Erik.
I turned to him. “The vampire?”
He nodded. It was a tight movement, as though the muscles in his neck were seizing up, trying to prevent him from uttering a single word about the creatures.
“Did she really think me so unaccepting that I couldn’t bear the knowledge of her rescuer?”
“I don’t know. She never spoke a word to me, either,” I said. “And, God, how I wish she had.”
Erik sighed. “I wish things had been different. Until I met you, I believed no vampire was capable of being saved. I didn’t even believe they were human. But seeing what I did… can you blame me?”
“Not in the least,” I said earnestly. “It was all you knew.”
“And I would wish such an experience upon no other,” Erik shuddered. “I’ve tried to forget it so many times, but I suppose some people are just born with tragedy in their blood. My father… He was a good man, the best I’ve ever known. He strove to rid the entire country of evil. And one broke free before he could exorcise it, killed him in front of us all. Éva’s mother, too. I can still see it…”
He broke off, his face whiter than snow.
“You never caught that vampire, did you?” I asked.
“Nem, we didn’t,” said Erik with a shudder.
I kept silent. It was difficult to admit before such wanton cruelty as that, but was it truly any different to what men did to each other every day? Were the events we had just lived through not proof enough of what wickedness all were capable of, without a single drop of venom in their veins?
I squeezed Erik's shoulder. At the touch, he cleared his throat, drawing himself up taller in an attempt to disguise his distress. But it wasn’t a thick enough skin to fool me. He looked how I felt. His eyes were red with sorrow, and his brow had creased with worry lines. Peeking from under his hat, I even saw the occasional shot of silver against his brown hair.
He was not particularly old: barely past fifty. However, he reminded me of how my own father had turned grey early, as the stains upon his soul ate at him from the inside out. Erik might not have fought in any wars, yet the scars were still there: the type which nobody could see.
I decided against mentioning England to him now. Neither of us were in any fit state to bear that conversation.
Norman approached, and we walked away from the mausoleum. Every step pained me as though I were treading upon sharp knives. I kept my hand tight on the cane, though I knew it was a farce. If I were to stumble, it would not help me remain upright. Nothing would, ever again, now my dear wife was shut into darkness.
*
Dinner was served, but I didn’t eat anything. I felt as though my stomach had abandoned my body. Instead, I waited for Norman to finish, then we retired to the parlour and sat before the fireplace.
He added another log and shoved the iron deep into the embers until they flared. In places, where the heat was most intense, the flames bore an edge of blue.
“Do you remember the stories she used to tell?” Norman asked wistfully. “When wood burns different colours like that, it’s the spirits of the tree leaving to find a new home?”
I smiled. “Yes.”
Norman settled back into his chair and held a hand to his face.
“Are you alright?” I asked.
“I feel a headache coming on. I might go and lie down for a while.”
“Can I do anything for you?”
“Nem, thank you,” he muttered. “It’s strange. Normally, I would just carry on. Never mind if I felt uncomfortable, or grieved. I still marched, still did whatever I needed to. But now… I don’t know what I need to do. There’s nothing to do. No purpose, no job to be completed.”
I glanced at the cane.
“Your grandfather spoke similar, once,” I said. “I think it comes with fighting in a war – any war.”
“Even though he won?” Norman asked dejectedly. “His was the Crimea. Rule Britannia, and all that. How can any victor feel like this?”
“He still had to kill, watch people he loved be killed, do whatever he was ordered,” I replied. “And Crimea was hardly well-managed, you know. All things considered, it’s a wonder Britain won. And did I tell you that was where he became a vampire?”
Norman frowned. “No.”
“He took a bullet to the chest. It would surely have been the end of him. But a kindly nurse came, and she turned him before he could die. He completed the transformation while he was there, then returned home.”
“How can venom be so potent? Can it truly heal everything?”
“I don’t know,” I sighed. “I’d like to think so.”
“But what a price to pay,” said Norman.
“What a price, indeed.”
I turned my eyes to my side table, and started thumbing listlessly through a newspaper which lay there. I had picked it up that afternoon, in an attempt to distract myself, but the more I looked at it, the heavier my heart grew. Every page screamed doom and panic into the silent air: a shrill voice of cheap ink which stained my fingers black.
Eventually, I gave up, and tossed it into the grate. The flames devoured it. I watched the edges curl, reading the headline as it disappeared in a burst of orange.
He added another log and shoved the iron deep into the embers until they flared. In places, where the heat was most intense, the flames bore an edge of blue.
“Do you remember the stories she used to tell?” Norman asked wistfully. “When wood burns different colours like that, it’s the spirits of the tree leaving to find a new home?”
I smiled. “Yes.”
Norman settled back into his chair and held a hand to his face.
“Are you alright?” I asked.
“I feel a headache coming on. I might go and lie down for a while.”
“Can I do anything for you?”
“Nem, thank you,” he muttered. “It’s strange. Normally, I would just carry on. Never mind if I felt uncomfortable, or grieved. I still marched, still did whatever I needed to. But now… I don’t know what I need to do. There’s nothing to do. No purpose, no job to be completed.”
I glanced at the cane.
“Your grandfather spoke similar, once,” I said. “I think it comes with fighting in a war – any war.”
“Even though he won?” Norman asked dejectedly. “His was the Crimea. Rule Britannia, and all that. How can any victor feel like this?”
“He still had to kill, watch people he loved be killed, do whatever he was ordered,” I replied. “And Crimea was hardly well-managed, you know. All things considered, it’s a wonder Britain won. And did I tell you that was where he became a vampire?”
Norman frowned. “No.”
“He took a bullet to the chest. It would surely have been the end of him. But a kindly nurse came, and she turned him before he could die. He completed the transformation while he was there, then returned home.”
“How can venom be so potent? Can it truly heal everything?”
“I don’t know,” I sighed. “I’d like to think so.”
“But what a price to pay,” said Norman.
“What a price, indeed.”
I turned my eyes to my side table, and started thumbing listlessly through a newspaper which lay there. I had picked it up that afternoon, in an attempt to distract myself, but the more I looked at it, the heavier my heart grew. Every page screamed doom and panic into the silent air: a shrill voice of cheap ink which stained my fingers black.
Eventually, I gave up, and tossed it into the grate. The flames devoured it. I watched the edges curl, reading the headline as it disappeared in a burst of orange.
AUSTRIA-HUNGARY DISSOLVES
EMPEROR REFUSES ABDICATION
HUNGARIAN DEMOCRATIC REPUBLIC TO BE ESTABLISHED
EMPEROR REFUSES ABDICATION
HUNGARIAN DEMOCRATIC REPUBLIC TO BE ESTABLISHED
Norman got to his feet.
“I’m going to rest,” he said. “I’ll come out later, if I feel better.”
I listened as he climbed the stairs. At once, I felt worse as I sat in the empty room. I could still catch the lingering notes of roses when I breathed, and my gaze strayed to the far wall, where the coffin had lain mere hours ago.
Outside, the sky transformed to the glow of early evening. Even in here, away from the rest of the city, I sensed the nervous fug which permeated the air. The clouds seemed oppressive, as though they might fall at any moment and smother me. Behind them, the sun hung low from its wintry position, tinted everything in subdued golds and reds.
It was hardly time for sleep, but I still shuddered at the idea of going to bed tonight. To not have Éva beside me was one thing, but to not have her in the house at all, even as a corpse… I couldn’t fathom it, macabre as it was. My heart trembled as I pictured her lying in that cold sarcophagus, alone, never to know light and life again.
Had the vampire realised what had happened to her yet? When night fell, would he go to the mausoleum and weep over her epitaph? Would he feel shame about refusing to ever turn her again?
I knew I was being spiteful, but I hadn't the power to stop myself. In that moment, I loathed everything about the world. I wished I could have somehow borne myself away, found another place above the vaulted sky, where man had never trodden and woman never smiled or wept. What solace might be found there, far from the cares and shadows of reality!
Agitation overcame me. I couldn’t stay here and do nothing. I had to move, take fresh air, and hope it might exhaust me enough to sleep later.
I moved through the house like a living ghost. I scarcely heard my own footsteps. I knew exactly where to tread so the old floorboards wouldn't creak. I pulled on my coat, hat and gloves, fetched my keys, and the cane, for safety. Then I slipped through the front door and into the middle of the street.
Never had I known such a peculiar synthesis of tension and stillness, both at once. They intertwined seamlessly, but clashed against each other, like two contrasting colours of a tapestry. So much uncertainty, lying still and in wait for what would happen next. The threads were red… So much red…
I glanced again at the sky. The sun was lower now, and had broken through the clouds a little, turning every inch of the Heavens into a fiery blaze. It brought to mind the image of a giant wound, slashed open, bleeding itself across a crying land.
I let my thoughts meander, and before long, they settled on a verse of old. I felt them wash over me; played them in my mind as a child might recite a lullaby for comfort.
I had a dream, which was not all a dream.
The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars
Did wander darkling in the eternal space,
Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth
Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air;
Morn came and went – and came, and brought no day.
I walked aimlessly, along routes I knew from some other life, and eventually found myself at the river. The water sparkled in a ribbon of gold. Over twenty years ago, I had sailed along here, to be reunited with my beloved, after we left everything behind. Could I truly do the same again now? Take Norman and board a ship bound for the place of our births?
My England. I had never belonged here, not truly, but it had been home because of Éva. She had taught me her language and her customs. She had given me the world in this country, as I had done for her in my own. Polar opposites, we were, in so many respects, but I didn’t care. I would do it all again, a thousand times over.
If only there could be a thousand times. There should have been a thousand times.
I hailed a carriage and pressed some forints into the driver’s hand.
“Kerepesi Cemetery, please.”
I looked out of the window as we drove past Castle Hill and turned onto the Chain Bridge. Soon, we arrived at the gates. They were still open, silhouetted black in the encroaching twilight. All the warm tones were gone now, to leave only lilacs and blues, and an open sky which stretched into eternity. I knew there were stars overhead, but I couldn't see them. The streetlamps obscured them too greatly.
I made my way onto the paths. The place was deserted. Cool shades painted everywhere I turned my eyes. The only sound was the whisper of dry leaves skittering over stone. The wind bit down to my bones, and I drew my coat tighter around myself. I should have brought a scarf.
Desire for my own peace of mind had led me back here, but a part of me wondered if I might happen across the vampire. They had incredible senses – my father had been able to see, smell and hear things which I could barely notice. Éva’s saviour was out there somewhere. Now the sun had set, he would be able to wander freely. He could be right behind me…
I glanced over my shoulder, but found nothing except a cluster of headstones. I wasn’t sure if that made me feel better or worse. Where was he?
I put it to the back of my mind. I wasn’t here for him. I was here for Éva. I had to believe that she knew I was coming; that she was waiting for me, and that she would forgive me for my idea to leave her.
Tho’ much is taken, much abides; and though
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
I eventually spotted the distinctive shape of the angel in the distance. And someone was coming towards me from that direction, carrying a dim torch, shoulders hunched against the cold.
I recognised the gait at once.
“Erik?”
He shone the beam at me.
“Benjamin? What are you doing here?”
“I couldn’t settle,” I replied. “I supposed there was nowhere else I could go.”
“Likewise,” said Erik.
I stepped closer so I could see him better. Without a word, he turned around and accompanied me back the way he had come. The mausoleum was made of a pale stone, so it stood ghost-like in the grass. The carvings and mouldings around the door seemed deeper than before. I almost imagined them moving: garlands swaying in the wind.
“I wasn’t expecting you to be here,” I said to Erik.
The point in my voice was not lost on him.
“After tonight, I won’t be,” he replied. “But to be honest, I was here before sunset. I was on my way home just now.”
“Do you want me to walk you back? I’ve got nothing better to do.”
“Nem, it’s fine. I can manage. I’ll go in a moment.”
Erik shone the torch around aimlessly, flashing it off the naked branches of a large birch tree. Already, they shone with a faint coating of frost. I wouldn’t be surprised if the first snow came soon. That would be fitting. Snow was beautiful, pristine, perfect. It hid all the ugliness which lay beneath. When Norman and I departed, would the entire world be white?
“Erik, listen,” I said. “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”
“The vampire?”
“No. I’ve been thinking it might be best for Norman and I to leave. I wanted to ask if you might come with us.”
“Leave? And go where?”
“Back to England,” I said.
Erik blinked. “What?”
“I think it’s the best decision, considering the way things are,” I continued. “I have enough money saved to get us settled. Our families have looked after each other for so long. I want you to join us. But it’s up to you.”
Erik was silent for a while. His eyes darted hither and thither; a million emotions fleeted across his face.
“I was actually thinking about something similar, you know. I thought about going back to the little village where I was born, where I used to live with Éva. To be honest, by the time all this insanity is over, it may very well end up as part of Romania. I used to think it was too small to spend a lifetime in, but now I’m not so sure.”
I managed a feeble smile. I wouldn’t press him. The idea was voiced and now he could think it over. I felt it more important that Norman and I left, and if Erik decided to join us, it would always be possible later.
I glanced at the sky again. The final hints of blue were fading now, and a giant dome of blackness expanded in all directions. How far into that infinite gulf of space was the entrance to Heaven? Or was Heaven closer still, intertwined with what we could see, invisible yet touching? Did it extend down here, and might Éva herself be standing beside me unseen?
On a whim, I moved my hand out, imagining I could feel her delicate fingers closing over mine.
“Come on,” I muttered. “It was her last wish, Erik. We should leave now.”
“You mean, I should,” he said cynically. “I suppose it’s time for her vampire to mourn her now.”
“I shall mourn her, and her mother, for longer than either of you.”
At once, I drew the sword from inside the cane. Erik spun around, torch raised.
The voice made my hair stand on end. It hot and cold in the same instance; saturated with sorrow. And it was old. Not in sound, but in cadence: a young man from another time.
I forced my dry mouth to work.
“Show yourself.”
“You were with her at the end?” the vampire asked. “Was she in pain? Did she suffer?”
“It was as quick as could be expected,” I said nervously. “Where are you? Please.”
I caught movement in my periphery. I looked at the stone angel, and a figure stepped down off the base. It was difficult to see any details in the darkness, but there was a black suit and gloves, similar to what I wore. The hair was black, too. And the face…
Erik’s torch beam finally lit him up, and I gasped. He looked barely older than Norman, but he held himself with an assurance which could only come with age. His face was stunning, as though one of the Ancient carvings of Adonis had turned to flesh and bone. But this figure’s chisel was melancholia: beneath an emotionless exterior, I sensed it permeating, like the scent of rain before a storm. The pale cheeks were streaked with tears; the eyes which met mine darker than pitch. And though their colour had been changed by venom, I realised I had seen them before. In sepia.
“Oh, God,” I breathed. “You are Éva’s father.”
Erik staggered backwards. “Jesus Christ… Benjamin…”
“Lower your blade,” the vampire said. “I mean you no harm.”
“Don’t listen!” Erik hissed. “That’s the one who killed my father!”
Time shattered over me, like a hammer against glass. Had Éva known about this? She must have. Why else would she have insisted Erik not come here after sunset?
The sword shook in my hand. I had to be dreaming. I had fallen asleep in the parlour; my grief and exhaustion had finally caught up with me…
But no. For as hard as I willed myself to awaken, I remained standing in the cold and dark, with this man staring into my face.
Just the sight of him confounded me. This was my father-in-law; the reason my wife had lived at all. He had removed the venom from her, and became her mysterious protector. Even in the low light, I noticed how terribly he was hurting now. I saw myself in those black eyes: they were mirrors reflecting my own pain back at me.
“How are you here?” Erik demanded. “You monster!”
“Do not speak to me of monsters, Farkas,” snapped the vampire. “I remember you, too.”
“Yes. I raised the daughter you abandoned!”
“And you kept me away from her. You let her believe me dead. She did not learn the truth until I saved her life. Do you hear me? I saved her life.”
Erik shook his head. “One life saved? And how many others did you end, demon? Do you need me to remind you?”
A dangerous shadow descended onto the alabaster face.
“Demon? So ignorant. I was benevolent and good, but the fallen angel became a malignant devil. Ask yourself if your own soul is cleaner, Farkas. Is any man’s?”
I raised a hand to tell Erik to stay quiet. I wanted to feel empathy, but now Éva’s wish made terrible sense. Keeping her father a secret was the only way she could have protected both him and Erik. She couldn’t have told anyone, not even me, in case word got back to her cousin. She couldn’t even have summoned him to her deathbed if she’d wanted to, lest Erik and he saw one another. And, from the speech and expressions around me, I saw why. Their hatred hung in the air like a gas. I, standing between them, was the only thing keeping them from flying at each other.
“Please,” I said, as carefully as I could. “Éva wouldn’t want this.”
The vampire looked straight at me. “All this time, she knew he was here. She knew what he did, keeping us apart, always lying, always interfering. She was much more forgiving than I am.”
“You are unforgivable,” snapped Erik.
“Don’t,” I warned.
“Why? You need to know as well. Don’t pity that thing. I’ve seen what it’s capable of.”
“It?” the vampire repeated, and took a step forward.
“Listen to me,” Erik whispered. “I know your father was a good man, Benjamin, but he was the exception to the rule. And for all those fine words, Éva is still gone!”
“Would you rather she be as I am?” said the vampire. “Unchanging and undying? No rest or peace? You cannot fathom how it breaks me to know I have none left in this world! I loved my family so much! I would never wish Éva to feel the same pain I endure, by watching you wither and die. Is that the work of a beast to you, Erik Farkas? You, who would have built her entire life on lies?”
Erik spat on the ground.
“Damn you! It wasn’t just my father, though, was it? Or even Éva? You murdered her mother, too. Your own wife. There, Benjamin, does that convince you enough? I saw it happen. That thing ripped an innocent woman’s throat out, and didn’t even care!”
The vampire shook with anger.
“I hold you in enough contempt, Farkas. Do not test me.”
Fear raked claws across my lungs. This was getting too dangerous. I needed to get away from this place before the matter could escalate even more.
“We’re leaving now,” I said quickly. “Erik, go. Stay back, sir.”
“I have no love for him,” the vampire said. “But you… You are her husband. I told you I mean you no harm, and I stand by that. I did all I could for Éva. I want you to know. Please.”
I didn't dare take my eyes from him. Now he was closer, I was stunned by how much he looked like Norman. It was as though I were viewing my son in a black wig.
My arm burned from holding out the blade. Would I even be able to defend myself with it? How swiftly could he move? Had those teeth truly crushed the life from his own wife?
“Please,” the vampire said again. “I have nothing now. Night may go on forever for me, but I will not leave their sides. Just remember me to my grandson. Let him know the truth. I never would have harmed her, or her mother.”
“But you did,” growled Erik. “You were the death of both of them!”
That was the final straw. Fury exploded over the vampire’s face. He stormed forward, knocked me to the ground, and snatched Erik by the throat.
“You accuse me of murder, Farkas?” he snarled. “You wish for me to embody that, and not allow for anything else? Then let it be so!”
Erik swung a fist, but the vampire caught it and twisted him around at an unnatural angle. A loud crack split the air. Erik roared in pain. He dropped his torch, and as it rolled across the grass, I saw his arm, bent straight upwards.
Alarm and fear rooted me to the spot. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe…
“Benjamin, go!” Erik cried. “Go! Run!”
The vampire held Erik's head tightly. Before I could react, he wrenched to the side. Another crack sounded, louder than the last.
“No!” I screamed. “No! Erik!”
Éva’s father looked at me. His melancholy was lost beneath an icy mask of rage. Whatever final thread had been anchoring him to humanity, in those unfortunate words uttered by Erik, it had snapped.
I didn’t think. I leapt to my feet and ran, as I had never run before. Tombstones and trees flew past me in a haze. I had left the cane, but I didn’t care. I had to flee, had to move…
I stumbled through the gates, into the blissful light of the streetlamps. I flagged down a passing carriage and threw myself inside like a madman.
What could I do? Call the police? No, it was already too late for that. The vampire would likely dispose of Erik before I could even reach the station. They could cover their tracks so easily, especially one so old.
I sucked breath into my lungs as though half-drowned. What was I going to do? Erik was dead; murdered…
My thoughts choked me where I sat. I couldn’t concentrate; couldn’t do anything except tremble. It was only when the carriage stopped that I was able to move.
“Stay here,” I snapped, tossing the driver a handful of forints. I leapt onto the pavement, fished my keys from my pocket and almost dropped them. After what felt like an age, I managed to let myself into the house.
“Norman!” I bellowed, taking the stairs two at a time. As each foot came down, panic blinded me. What was I going to say to him? The truth?
I would have to.
I burst into his room. He was on his feet and alert in moments.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“We need to leave. Right now.”
Without waiting for an answer, I snatched a suitcase off the top of the wardrobe and flung it at him.
“Now,” I said again. “We can sort the rest of the house later, but get ready and meet me downstairs.”
“What? Why now? What’s happened?”
“I’ll explain later! Just do it!”
I hurried next door and fetched my own suitcase, tore open the chest of drawers and threw my clothes into it. I followed them with all the photographs. I paused when I reached the one on Éva’s side of the bed, of herself with her parents, but then put that in as well; covered it with a shirt so I couldn’t see her father’s face. Finally, I took her silver locket and fastened it around my own neck.
One of the servant girls appeared in the doorway.
“Sir?” she said nervously. “Is everything alright?”
“Nem, Panna,” I replied. “Listen, we must go. I’m sorry. I will organise a reference for you and the others. Stay here for now and pack all our belongings. I’ll tell you where they are to be sent.”
The blood drained from Panna’s face. “I don’t understand. Are we in danger?”
“Not you, but you are to tell nobody where we are. Leave me, please.”
She hurriedly made herself scarce. I wasn’t even sure of our destination. I just knew we needed to leave Budapest, and get to a place where it would be harder for the vampire to find us. I didn’t want him anywhere near me, or Norman.
Logic threw me a lifeline. Fiume. It was a fair distance – we would have to travel through the night – but it was the best I could manage. Take the carriage to the station, board a train before it grew too late. Then I could arrange passage to England.
I packed a few final belongings, including all my emergency money, then slammed the suitcase shut. I dragged it down the stairs and found Norman there, dressed and wide-eyed. The other servants watched in alarm.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“Out of the city,” I answered simply. “Everyone, I know this looks upsetting, but I promise everything will be fine. Norman, come, now.”
I swung the door open and headed to the carriage. When the driver saw our cases, he leapt off the seat and loaded them onto the roof. I opened the door, but before I could climb inside, a man suddenly ran forward and snatched hold of my hand. He thrust a photograph at me.
“Please, sirs, have you seen this girl?” he asked frantically. “It’s my daughter… Please! Take a look!”
I glanced at the picture. It showed a young woman with blonde ringlets. She had a look of Éva’s mother, but beside that, I didn't recognise her.
I shook my head. “I’m sorry.”
I urged Norman into the carriage, then followed him, and we moved off. The man immediately hurried across the road to show the photograph to another couple.
“Please, help! Has anyone seen her? She’s my daughter, her name is Franciska Varga. Someone, please, just look…”
“Do you want to tell me what’s going on?” asked Norman.
I buried my face in my hands. Where did I even begin?
“It’s Erik,” I said. “The vampire…”
My voice failed. At once, cool realisation swam into my son’s eyes.
“He’s dead?”
I swallowed. “Yes.”
A muscle twitched in Norman’s jaw. I watched him carefully, trying to focus only on him, over the rattle of the wheels and the distant cacophony of people shouting. But all I could think of was Erik’s face; the fear and hatred in his voice, and the sight of the vampire. He who had saved Éva, walked with her, murdered her mother and cousin…
Erik had been right. My own father was the exception. Now, I had seen too many monsters who appeared in the guises of men.
Suddenly, Norman’s shoulders drooped. His entire expression shattered, and the backbone he had kept so staunchly straight buckled like a reed. He pressed himself close to me and I put my arms around him. He was no longer the battle-hardened soldier, but my own little child once again. And as we moved further west, putting more and more distance between us and my beloved, I couldn’t help but think of those stories she had told him.
The wood spirits had leapt from the logs to find a new home. Now, we must do the same. I just hoped that if we walked far enough, when we looked back, our footprints would no longer be red with blood, but covered by pristine snow.
Even as I thought it, the fancy turned to ash in my mind. We would never be free. Neither of us were vampires, but the scars would define us forever. For the first time in my life, words held no meaning. They were hollow, pointless. Dead things, if no sympathetic ear could hear their music.
“I’m going to rest,” he said. “I’ll come out later, if I feel better.”
I listened as he climbed the stairs. At once, I felt worse as I sat in the empty room. I could still catch the lingering notes of roses when I breathed, and my gaze strayed to the far wall, where the coffin had lain mere hours ago.
Outside, the sky transformed to the glow of early evening. Even in here, away from the rest of the city, I sensed the nervous fug which permeated the air. The clouds seemed oppressive, as though they might fall at any moment and smother me. Behind them, the sun hung low from its wintry position, tinted everything in subdued golds and reds.
It was hardly time for sleep, but I still shuddered at the idea of going to bed tonight. To not have Éva beside me was one thing, but to not have her in the house at all, even as a corpse… I couldn’t fathom it, macabre as it was. My heart trembled as I pictured her lying in that cold sarcophagus, alone, never to know light and life again.
Had the vampire realised what had happened to her yet? When night fell, would he go to the mausoleum and weep over her epitaph? Would he feel shame about refusing to ever turn her again?
I knew I was being spiteful, but I hadn't the power to stop myself. In that moment, I loathed everything about the world. I wished I could have somehow borne myself away, found another place above the vaulted sky, where man had never trodden and woman never smiled or wept. What solace might be found there, far from the cares and shadows of reality!
Agitation overcame me. I couldn’t stay here and do nothing. I had to move, take fresh air, and hope it might exhaust me enough to sleep later.
I moved through the house like a living ghost. I scarcely heard my own footsteps. I knew exactly where to tread so the old floorboards wouldn't creak. I pulled on my coat, hat and gloves, fetched my keys, and the cane, for safety. Then I slipped through the front door and into the middle of the street.
Never had I known such a peculiar synthesis of tension and stillness, both at once. They intertwined seamlessly, but clashed against each other, like two contrasting colours of a tapestry. So much uncertainty, lying still and in wait for what would happen next. The threads were red… So much red…
I glanced again at the sky. The sun was lower now, and had broken through the clouds a little, turning every inch of the Heavens into a fiery blaze. It brought to mind the image of a giant wound, slashed open, bleeding itself across a crying land.
I let my thoughts meander, and before long, they settled on a verse of old. I felt them wash over me; played them in my mind as a child might recite a lullaby for comfort.
I had a dream, which was not all a dream.
The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars
Did wander darkling in the eternal space,
Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth
Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air;
Morn came and went – and came, and brought no day.
I walked aimlessly, along routes I knew from some other life, and eventually found myself at the river. The water sparkled in a ribbon of gold. Over twenty years ago, I had sailed along here, to be reunited with my beloved, after we left everything behind. Could I truly do the same again now? Take Norman and board a ship bound for the place of our births?
My England. I had never belonged here, not truly, but it had been home because of Éva. She had taught me her language and her customs. She had given me the world in this country, as I had done for her in my own. Polar opposites, we were, in so many respects, but I didn’t care. I would do it all again, a thousand times over.
If only there could be a thousand times. There should have been a thousand times.
I hailed a carriage and pressed some forints into the driver’s hand.
“Kerepesi Cemetery, please.”
I looked out of the window as we drove past Castle Hill and turned onto the Chain Bridge. Soon, we arrived at the gates. They were still open, silhouetted black in the encroaching twilight. All the warm tones were gone now, to leave only lilacs and blues, and an open sky which stretched into eternity. I knew there were stars overhead, but I couldn't see them. The streetlamps obscured them too greatly.
I made my way onto the paths. The place was deserted. Cool shades painted everywhere I turned my eyes. The only sound was the whisper of dry leaves skittering over stone. The wind bit down to my bones, and I drew my coat tighter around myself. I should have brought a scarf.
Desire for my own peace of mind had led me back here, but a part of me wondered if I might happen across the vampire. They had incredible senses – my father had been able to see, smell and hear things which I could barely notice. Éva’s saviour was out there somewhere. Now the sun had set, he would be able to wander freely. He could be right behind me…
I glanced over my shoulder, but found nothing except a cluster of headstones. I wasn’t sure if that made me feel better or worse. Where was he?
I put it to the back of my mind. I wasn’t here for him. I was here for Éva. I had to believe that she knew I was coming; that she was waiting for me, and that she would forgive me for my idea to leave her.
Tho’ much is taken, much abides; and though
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
I eventually spotted the distinctive shape of the angel in the distance. And someone was coming towards me from that direction, carrying a dim torch, shoulders hunched against the cold.
I recognised the gait at once.
“Erik?”
He shone the beam at me.
“Benjamin? What are you doing here?”
“I couldn’t settle,” I replied. “I supposed there was nowhere else I could go.”
“Likewise,” said Erik.
I stepped closer so I could see him better. Without a word, he turned around and accompanied me back the way he had come. The mausoleum was made of a pale stone, so it stood ghost-like in the grass. The carvings and mouldings around the door seemed deeper than before. I almost imagined them moving: garlands swaying in the wind.
“I wasn’t expecting you to be here,” I said to Erik.
The point in my voice was not lost on him.
“After tonight, I won’t be,” he replied. “But to be honest, I was here before sunset. I was on my way home just now.”
“Do you want me to walk you back? I’ve got nothing better to do.”
“Nem, it’s fine. I can manage. I’ll go in a moment.”
Erik shone the torch around aimlessly, flashing it off the naked branches of a large birch tree. Already, they shone with a faint coating of frost. I wouldn’t be surprised if the first snow came soon. That would be fitting. Snow was beautiful, pristine, perfect. It hid all the ugliness which lay beneath. When Norman and I departed, would the entire world be white?
“Erik, listen,” I said. “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”
“The vampire?”
“No. I’ve been thinking it might be best for Norman and I to leave. I wanted to ask if you might come with us.”
“Leave? And go where?”
“Back to England,” I said.
Erik blinked. “What?”
“I think it’s the best decision, considering the way things are,” I continued. “I have enough money saved to get us settled. Our families have looked after each other for so long. I want you to join us. But it’s up to you.”
Erik was silent for a while. His eyes darted hither and thither; a million emotions fleeted across his face.
“I was actually thinking about something similar, you know. I thought about going back to the little village where I was born, where I used to live with Éva. To be honest, by the time all this insanity is over, it may very well end up as part of Romania. I used to think it was too small to spend a lifetime in, but now I’m not so sure.”
I managed a feeble smile. I wouldn’t press him. The idea was voiced and now he could think it over. I felt it more important that Norman and I left, and if Erik decided to join us, it would always be possible later.
I glanced at the sky again. The final hints of blue were fading now, and a giant dome of blackness expanded in all directions. How far into that infinite gulf of space was the entrance to Heaven? Or was Heaven closer still, intertwined with what we could see, invisible yet touching? Did it extend down here, and might Éva herself be standing beside me unseen?
On a whim, I moved my hand out, imagining I could feel her delicate fingers closing over mine.
“Come on,” I muttered. “It was her last wish, Erik. We should leave now.”
“You mean, I should,” he said cynically. “I suppose it’s time for her vampire to mourn her now.”
“I shall mourn her, and her mother, for longer than either of you.”
At once, I drew the sword from inside the cane. Erik spun around, torch raised.
The voice made my hair stand on end. It hot and cold in the same instance; saturated with sorrow. And it was old. Not in sound, but in cadence: a young man from another time.
I forced my dry mouth to work.
“Show yourself.”
“You were with her at the end?” the vampire asked. “Was she in pain? Did she suffer?”
“It was as quick as could be expected,” I said nervously. “Where are you? Please.”
I caught movement in my periphery. I looked at the stone angel, and a figure stepped down off the base. It was difficult to see any details in the darkness, but there was a black suit and gloves, similar to what I wore. The hair was black, too. And the face…
Erik’s torch beam finally lit him up, and I gasped. He looked barely older than Norman, but he held himself with an assurance which could only come with age. His face was stunning, as though one of the Ancient carvings of Adonis had turned to flesh and bone. But this figure’s chisel was melancholia: beneath an emotionless exterior, I sensed it permeating, like the scent of rain before a storm. The pale cheeks were streaked with tears; the eyes which met mine darker than pitch. And though their colour had been changed by venom, I realised I had seen them before. In sepia.
“Oh, God,” I breathed. “You are Éva’s father.”
Erik staggered backwards. “Jesus Christ… Benjamin…”
“Lower your blade,” the vampire said. “I mean you no harm.”
“Don’t listen!” Erik hissed. “That’s the one who killed my father!”
Time shattered over me, like a hammer against glass. Had Éva known about this? She must have. Why else would she have insisted Erik not come here after sunset?
The sword shook in my hand. I had to be dreaming. I had fallen asleep in the parlour; my grief and exhaustion had finally caught up with me…
But no. For as hard as I willed myself to awaken, I remained standing in the cold and dark, with this man staring into my face.
Just the sight of him confounded me. This was my father-in-law; the reason my wife had lived at all. He had removed the venom from her, and became her mysterious protector. Even in the low light, I noticed how terribly he was hurting now. I saw myself in those black eyes: they were mirrors reflecting my own pain back at me.
“How are you here?” Erik demanded. “You monster!”
“Do not speak to me of monsters, Farkas,” snapped the vampire. “I remember you, too.”
“Yes. I raised the daughter you abandoned!”
“And you kept me away from her. You let her believe me dead. She did not learn the truth until I saved her life. Do you hear me? I saved her life.”
Erik shook his head. “One life saved? And how many others did you end, demon? Do you need me to remind you?”
A dangerous shadow descended onto the alabaster face.
“Demon? So ignorant. I was benevolent and good, but the fallen angel became a malignant devil. Ask yourself if your own soul is cleaner, Farkas. Is any man’s?”
I raised a hand to tell Erik to stay quiet. I wanted to feel empathy, but now Éva’s wish made terrible sense. Keeping her father a secret was the only way she could have protected both him and Erik. She couldn’t have told anyone, not even me, in case word got back to her cousin. She couldn’t even have summoned him to her deathbed if she’d wanted to, lest Erik and he saw one another. And, from the speech and expressions around me, I saw why. Their hatred hung in the air like a gas. I, standing between them, was the only thing keeping them from flying at each other.
“Please,” I said, as carefully as I could. “Éva wouldn’t want this.”
The vampire looked straight at me. “All this time, she knew he was here. She knew what he did, keeping us apart, always lying, always interfering. She was much more forgiving than I am.”
“You are unforgivable,” snapped Erik.
“Don’t,” I warned.
“Why? You need to know as well. Don’t pity that thing. I’ve seen what it’s capable of.”
“It?” the vampire repeated, and took a step forward.
“Listen to me,” Erik whispered. “I know your father was a good man, Benjamin, but he was the exception to the rule. And for all those fine words, Éva is still gone!”
“Would you rather she be as I am?” said the vampire. “Unchanging and undying? No rest or peace? You cannot fathom how it breaks me to know I have none left in this world! I loved my family so much! I would never wish Éva to feel the same pain I endure, by watching you wither and die. Is that the work of a beast to you, Erik Farkas? You, who would have built her entire life on lies?”
Erik spat on the ground.
“Damn you! It wasn’t just my father, though, was it? Or even Éva? You murdered her mother, too. Your own wife. There, Benjamin, does that convince you enough? I saw it happen. That thing ripped an innocent woman’s throat out, and didn’t even care!”
The vampire shook with anger.
“I hold you in enough contempt, Farkas. Do not test me.”
Fear raked claws across my lungs. This was getting too dangerous. I needed to get away from this place before the matter could escalate even more.
“We’re leaving now,” I said quickly. “Erik, go. Stay back, sir.”
“I have no love for him,” the vampire said. “But you… You are her husband. I told you I mean you no harm, and I stand by that. I did all I could for Éva. I want you to know. Please.”
I didn't dare take my eyes from him. Now he was closer, I was stunned by how much he looked like Norman. It was as though I were viewing my son in a black wig.
My arm burned from holding out the blade. Would I even be able to defend myself with it? How swiftly could he move? Had those teeth truly crushed the life from his own wife?
“Please,” the vampire said again. “I have nothing now. Night may go on forever for me, but I will not leave their sides. Just remember me to my grandson. Let him know the truth. I never would have harmed her, or her mother.”
“But you did,” growled Erik. “You were the death of both of them!”
That was the final straw. Fury exploded over the vampire’s face. He stormed forward, knocked me to the ground, and snatched Erik by the throat.
“You accuse me of murder, Farkas?” he snarled. “You wish for me to embody that, and not allow for anything else? Then let it be so!”
Erik swung a fist, but the vampire caught it and twisted him around at an unnatural angle. A loud crack split the air. Erik roared in pain. He dropped his torch, and as it rolled across the grass, I saw his arm, bent straight upwards.
Alarm and fear rooted me to the spot. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe…
“Benjamin, go!” Erik cried. “Go! Run!”
The vampire held Erik's head tightly. Before I could react, he wrenched to the side. Another crack sounded, louder than the last.
“No!” I screamed. “No! Erik!”
Éva’s father looked at me. His melancholy was lost beneath an icy mask of rage. Whatever final thread had been anchoring him to humanity, in those unfortunate words uttered by Erik, it had snapped.
I didn’t think. I leapt to my feet and ran, as I had never run before. Tombstones and trees flew past me in a haze. I had left the cane, but I didn’t care. I had to flee, had to move…
I stumbled through the gates, into the blissful light of the streetlamps. I flagged down a passing carriage and threw myself inside like a madman.
What could I do? Call the police? No, it was already too late for that. The vampire would likely dispose of Erik before I could even reach the station. They could cover their tracks so easily, especially one so old.
I sucked breath into my lungs as though half-drowned. What was I going to do? Erik was dead; murdered…
My thoughts choked me where I sat. I couldn’t concentrate; couldn’t do anything except tremble. It was only when the carriage stopped that I was able to move.
“Stay here,” I snapped, tossing the driver a handful of forints. I leapt onto the pavement, fished my keys from my pocket and almost dropped them. After what felt like an age, I managed to let myself into the house.
“Norman!” I bellowed, taking the stairs two at a time. As each foot came down, panic blinded me. What was I going to say to him? The truth?
I would have to.
I burst into his room. He was on his feet and alert in moments.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“We need to leave. Right now.”
Without waiting for an answer, I snatched a suitcase off the top of the wardrobe and flung it at him.
“Now,” I said again. “We can sort the rest of the house later, but get ready and meet me downstairs.”
“What? Why now? What’s happened?”
“I’ll explain later! Just do it!”
I hurried next door and fetched my own suitcase, tore open the chest of drawers and threw my clothes into it. I followed them with all the photographs. I paused when I reached the one on Éva’s side of the bed, of herself with her parents, but then put that in as well; covered it with a shirt so I couldn’t see her father’s face. Finally, I took her silver locket and fastened it around my own neck.
One of the servant girls appeared in the doorway.
“Sir?” she said nervously. “Is everything alright?”
“Nem, Panna,” I replied. “Listen, we must go. I’m sorry. I will organise a reference for you and the others. Stay here for now and pack all our belongings. I’ll tell you where they are to be sent.”
The blood drained from Panna’s face. “I don’t understand. Are we in danger?”
“Not you, but you are to tell nobody where we are. Leave me, please.”
She hurriedly made herself scarce. I wasn’t even sure of our destination. I just knew we needed to leave Budapest, and get to a place where it would be harder for the vampire to find us. I didn’t want him anywhere near me, or Norman.
Logic threw me a lifeline. Fiume. It was a fair distance – we would have to travel through the night – but it was the best I could manage. Take the carriage to the station, board a train before it grew too late. Then I could arrange passage to England.
I packed a few final belongings, including all my emergency money, then slammed the suitcase shut. I dragged it down the stairs and found Norman there, dressed and wide-eyed. The other servants watched in alarm.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“Out of the city,” I answered simply. “Everyone, I know this looks upsetting, but I promise everything will be fine. Norman, come, now.”
I swung the door open and headed to the carriage. When the driver saw our cases, he leapt off the seat and loaded them onto the roof. I opened the door, but before I could climb inside, a man suddenly ran forward and snatched hold of my hand. He thrust a photograph at me.
“Please, sirs, have you seen this girl?” he asked frantically. “It’s my daughter… Please! Take a look!”
I glanced at the picture. It showed a young woman with blonde ringlets. She had a look of Éva’s mother, but beside that, I didn't recognise her.
I shook my head. “I’m sorry.”
I urged Norman into the carriage, then followed him, and we moved off. The man immediately hurried across the road to show the photograph to another couple.
“Please, help! Has anyone seen her? She’s my daughter, her name is Franciska Varga. Someone, please, just look…”
“Do you want to tell me what’s going on?” asked Norman.
I buried my face in my hands. Where did I even begin?
“It’s Erik,” I said. “The vampire…”
My voice failed. At once, cool realisation swam into my son’s eyes.
“He’s dead?”
I swallowed. “Yes.”
A muscle twitched in Norman’s jaw. I watched him carefully, trying to focus only on him, over the rattle of the wheels and the distant cacophony of people shouting. But all I could think of was Erik’s face; the fear and hatred in his voice, and the sight of the vampire. He who had saved Éva, walked with her, murdered her mother and cousin…
Erik had been right. My own father was the exception. Now, I had seen too many monsters who appeared in the guises of men.
Suddenly, Norman’s shoulders drooped. His entire expression shattered, and the backbone he had kept so staunchly straight buckled like a reed. He pressed himself close to me and I put my arms around him. He was no longer the battle-hardened soldier, but my own little child once again. And as we moved further west, putting more and more distance between us and my beloved, I couldn’t help but think of those stories she had told him.
The wood spirits had leapt from the logs to find a new home. Now, we must do the same. I just hoped that if we walked far enough, when we looked back, our footprints would no longer be red with blood, but covered by pristine snow.
Even as I thought it, the fancy turned to ash in my mind. We would never be free. Neither of us were vampires, but the scars would define us forever. For the first time in my life, words held no meaning. They were hollow, pointless. Dead things, if no sympathetic ear could hear their music.
Like one who, on a lonely road,
Doth walk in fear and dread,
And, having once turned round, walks on,
And turns no more his head;
Because he knows a frightful fiend
Doth close behind him tread.
Doth walk in fear and dread,
And, having once turned round, walks on,
And turns no more his head;
Because he knows a frightful fiend
Doth close behind him tread.