Connects with: Angel of Death, Sepia and Silver, Red Sky at Night, Where Night is Blind & Tragic Silence
The Edge of Sunset © October 2022 E. C. Hibbs
Hattyupatak, Austria-Hungary
February 1895
As soon as the wagonette appeared on the road, the entire village erupted in cheers. The figures atop the seat raised their arms. I gasped with happiness and ran forward like a madwoman. Finally, the day I had waited so long for!
The pony had no sooner drawn to a halt when Erik leapt down and pulled me into an embrace. I wept as I clung to him: my darling little brother. It had been so long since I had seen him. He had spent over two months in Győrtelek – the first Christmas we had been apart in all our lives.
“Thank God!” I breathed. “I missed you so much!”
“I missed you, too, Zíta,” he replied.
He turned around to help Anette. So, this was my future sister-in-law. Erik hadn't been exaggerating when he had written to me about her fine features. Her hair was fair, face like a petite porcelain doll. When she removed her gloves, I noticed a thin golden band on the third finger of her left hand.
“Anette,” I smiled, and drew close to kiss her cheeks. “It’s wonderful to meet you at last!”
“And you,” she said. “May I call you Zíta?”
“Of course. I insist on it,” I said. “Welcome to Hattyúpatak.”
Anette glanced at the village around us. It was a small, humble place, filled with people of the same disposition, but I stood as proud as though I presented the whole of Buda-Pesth to her. The little houses lay surrounded by rolling green fields, edged by trees and the trickling stream which formed the border with Romania. I was biased, of course, but I could swear before God that there had never been a more perfect home upon Earth.
The neighbours approached. Many of Erik’s old woodcutter friends clapped him on the shoulders and shook his hand. I guided Anette away, towards József. As was typical, he wore his priestly vestments, and he placed his fingers on her head in blessing.
“Father,” she smiled. “Thank you.”
“It’s wonderful to have you here,” József replied. “The future Mrs Farkas. You are most welcome.”
Erik managed to free himself from the men, and threaded his arm through Anette’s.
“Well, details on the wedding can be set in the next couple of days, I think,” he said. “Does anyone object if we settle in for now? It’s been a long journey.”
“Of course,” I said. “I have the spare room ready for you both. Come in, out of the cold.”
Erik took one of the bags from the wagonette, and I grasped the other. I hardly cared that it was heavy. I had been hauling weight my entire life, and had no qualms about being seen doing so. Nobody else was bothered by it, either. They knew I was the daughter of Alexander Farkas. At just fourteen, I had helped prepare the entire village for the darkest night in our history.
Time had passed since then, but Hattyúpatak remembered. It would until the end of time.
I led Erik and Anette into the house. It was the one my brother and I had lived in our whole lives: a place filled with darkness and light and memories of all kinds. I deposited the luggage in my parents’ old room, and bent to place another log on the fire. As usual, it was birch. Even now, after so long, I would burn nothing else.
“Make yourself at home,” I said to Anette, as I swung the kettle over the fire.
“I don’t mind if I do,” Erik smirked, and tossed his hat upon a sideboard.
I rolled my eyes. “As untidy as ever. I’m stunned he hasn’t driven you to distraction yet!”
“Oh, he has his uses,” Anette smiled.
She sat at the other end of the table. The wood was smoothed to silk by the touches of numerous hands; scoured by too many blade-marks to count. She inspected the room: the herb bundles hanging from the rafters, the carved dresser, the paintings on the walls. They were hardly great art, but they added a splash of colour to the whitewashed walls.
Once again, humble, and yet strong.
“It’s large. Isn’t this the priest’s house?” Anette asked. “It’s right beside the church, I noticed.”
“For all intents and purposes, it is the priest’s house,” I said. “But József lives on the other side of the graveyard. The people insisted that Erik and I keep this, out of respect.”
“For your Apa?”
I nodded. “Yes, for our Apa. Did Erik tell you about him?”
“Only a little,” Erik said, leaning around the doorframe.
He caught my eye. His tone was still jovial, but the playfulness had thinned, and that immediately communicated more than those three simple words. He hadn’t mentioned what had happened here fifteen years ago, and didn’t want to.
I decided not to press the matter. Poor Anette had barely sat down. It wouldn’t do to scare her out of her wits before I had even served her a drink.
Erik came to Anette’s side and kissed her forehead.
“So, Zíta, how desperate has József been to arrange the wedding?” he asked. “I hope he’s given you at least a moment’s peace!”
I laughed. “To speak truth, it’s all I’ve heard for the past two weeks! It’s been far too long since we had a wedding here.”
There was a dark truth to my words, which wasn’t lost on Erik. Aside from the typical liturgical calendar, the only services had been funerals and the Final Purge anniversary: the date we honoured and dreaded like no other.
Erik, however, refused to break his smile.
“I dare say József is more excited than I am!” he chuckled. “It’s quaint and lovely, Anette, but not much goes on here. Next, he’ll be insisting we settle in this place permanently!”
Erik’s manner was light-hearted, but it still sent a dart of melancholy into my heart. Before Christmas, he had spoken about relocating to Buda-Pesth with Anette, so the subject came as no surprise. However, to be reminded of it further solidified my realisation that the old days were gone.
My life had rarely been one of excessive joy. From an early age, I was forced to be strong and resolute, but at least I’d had my family. My parents, my brother, my cousin Mirriam and her daughter, sweet Éva. Until all of them, whether slowly or suddenly, had left me alone. Soon, I would be the only one in this house, for the rest of my life. I had raised Éva and Erik, and was essentially married to the village. There was no other existence for me now.
Thoughts of Éva brought a smile to my lips. If I allowed my vision to blur, and imagined Anette’s golden hair as black as a raven’s wings, she might almost have been sitting before me again.
“Do you have any dates in mind?” I asked, hoping to change the subject.
“Not yet,” said Anette. “Perhaps the end of summer. That gives plenty of time to prepare. And then we would be here for Erik’s birthday, too.”
“I can’t believe you shall be twenty-eight this year,” I said to Erik. “I can still see a child who could barely lift an axe!”
Erik chuckled, raising his arms to illustrate his muscles. There was certainly nothing boyish about his features now.
“I only wish Éva could be there,” he sighed. “Do you think, if you write to her, she will be able to return for the wedding?”
“I could try,” I said, “but I wouldn’t hold too much hope.”
“Where is she?” asked Anette. “Erik told me she had gone abroad.”
“Yes, only a few months ago,” I replied. “She received a summons from her grandfather in England. I want nothing more than for her to be back here, but she seems to have settled. As well as she can, at any rate. It would be a very long journey for her to return.”
“And expensive,” muttered Erik. “Though I’m sure her grandfather could pay it.”
I shrugged. “I can but ask.”
I poured the tea, then passed out the cups and held mine aloft. We drank a toast to the future, to the continuation of the Farkas family, and to days filled with happiness.
God knew both my brother and I had seen our share of darkness. It was time, at long last, to welcome some light.
The pony had no sooner drawn to a halt when Erik leapt down and pulled me into an embrace. I wept as I clung to him: my darling little brother. It had been so long since I had seen him. He had spent over two months in Győrtelek – the first Christmas we had been apart in all our lives.
“Thank God!” I breathed. “I missed you so much!”
“I missed you, too, Zíta,” he replied.
He turned around to help Anette. So, this was my future sister-in-law. Erik hadn't been exaggerating when he had written to me about her fine features. Her hair was fair, face like a petite porcelain doll. When she removed her gloves, I noticed a thin golden band on the third finger of her left hand.
“Anette,” I smiled, and drew close to kiss her cheeks. “It’s wonderful to meet you at last!”
“And you,” she said. “May I call you Zíta?”
“Of course. I insist on it,” I said. “Welcome to Hattyúpatak.”
Anette glanced at the village around us. It was a small, humble place, filled with people of the same disposition, but I stood as proud as though I presented the whole of Buda-Pesth to her. The little houses lay surrounded by rolling green fields, edged by trees and the trickling stream which formed the border with Romania. I was biased, of course, but I could swear before God that there had never been a more perfect home upon Earth.
The neighbours approached. Many of Erik’s old woodcutter friends clapped him on the shoulders and shook his hand. I guided Anette away, towards József. As was typical, he wore his priestly vestments, and he placed his fingers on her head in blessing.
“Father,” she smiled. “Thank you.”
“It’s wonderful to have you here,” József replied. “The future Mrs Farkas. You are most welcome.”
Erik managed to free himself from the men, and threaded his arm through Anette’s.
“Well, details on the wedding can be set in the next couple of days, I think,” he said. “Does anyone object if we settle in for now? It’s been a long journey.”
“Of course,” I said. “I have the spare room ready for you both. Come in, out of the cold.”
Erik took one of the bags from the wagonette, and I grasped the other. I hardly cared that it was heavy. I had been hauling weight my entire life, and had no qualms about being seen doing so. Nobody else was bothered by it, either. They knew I was the daughter of Alexander Farkas. At just fourteen, I had helped prepare the entire village for the darkest night in our history.
Time had passed since then, but Hattyúpatak remembered. It would until the end of time.
I led Erik and Anette into the house. It was the one my brother and I had lived in our whole lives: a place filled with darkness and light and memories of all kinds. I deposited the luggage in my parents’ old room, and bent to place another log on the fire. As usual, it was birch. Even now, after so long, I would burn nothing else.
“Make yourself at home,” I said to Anette, as I swung the kettle over the fire.
“I don’t mind if I do,” Erik smirked, and tossed his hat upon a sideboard.
I rolled my eyes. “As untidy as ever. I’m stunned he hasn’t driven you to distraction yet!”
“Oh, he has his uses,” Anette smiled.
She sat at the other end of the table. The wood was smoothed to silk by the touches of numerous hands; scoured by too many blade-marks to count. She inspected the room: the herb bundles hanging from the rafters, the carved dresser, the paintings on the walls. They were hardly great art, but they added a splash of colour to the whitewashed walls.
Once again, humble, and yet strong.
“It’s large. Isn’t this the priest’s house?” Anette asked. “It’s right beside the church, I noticed.”
“For all intents and purposes, it is the priest’s house,” I said. “But József lives on the other side of the graveyard. The people insisted that Erik and I keep this, out of respect.”
“For your Apa?”
I nodded. “Yes, for our Apa. Did Erik tell you about him?”
“Only a little,” Erik said, leaning around the doorframe.
He caught my eye. His tone was still jovial, but the playfulness had thinned, and that immediately communicated more than those three simple words. He hadn’t mentioned what had happened here fifteen years ago, and didn’t want to.
I decided not to press the matter. Poor Anette had barely sat down. It wouldn’t do to scare her out of her wits before I had even served her a drink.
Erik came to Anette’s side and kissed her forehead.
“So, Zíta, how desperate has József been to arrange the wedding?” he asked. “I hope he’s given you at least a moment’s peace!”
I laughed. “To speak truth, it’s all I’ve heard for the past two weeks! It’s been far too long since we had a wedding here.”
There was a dark truth to my words, which wasn’t lost on Erik. Aside from the typical liturgical calendar, the only services had been funerals and the Final Purge anniversary: the date we honoured and dreaded like no other.
Erik, however, refused to break his smile.
“I dare say József is more excited than I am!” he chuckled. “It’s quaint and lovely, Anette, but not much goes on here. Next, he’ll be insisting we settle in this place permanently!”
Erik’s manner was light-hearted, but it still sent a dart of melancholy into my heart. Before Christmas, he had spoken about relocating to Buda-Pesth with Anette, so the subject came as no surprise. However, to be reminded of it further solidified my realisation that the old days were gone.
My life had rarely been one of excessive joy. From an early age, I was forced to be strong and resolute, but at least I’d had my family. My parents, my brother, my cousin Mirriam and her daughter, sweet Éva. Until all of them, whether slowly or suddenly, had left me alone. Soon, I would be the only one in this house, for the rest of my life. I had raised Éva and Erik, and was essentially married to the village. There was no other existence for me now.
Thoughts of Éva brought a smile to my lips. If I allowed my vision to blur, and imagined Anette’s golden hair as black as a raven’s wings, she might almost have been sitting before me again.
“Do you have any dates in mind?” I asked, hoping to change the subject.
“Not yet,” said Anette. “Perhaps the end of summer. That gives plenty of time to prepare. And then we would be here for Erik’s birthday, too.”
“I can’t believe you shall be twenty-eight this year,” I said to Erik. “I can still see a child who could barely lift an axe!”
Erik chuckled, raising his arms to illustrate his muscles. There was certainly nothing boyish about his features now.
“I only wish Éva could be there,” he sighed. “Do you think, if you write to her, she will be able to return for the wedding?”
“I could try,” I said, “but I wouldn’t hold too much hope.”
“Where is she?” asked Anette. “Erik told me she had gone abroad.”
“Yes, only a few months ago,” I replied. “She received a summons from her grandfather in England. I want nothing more than for her to be back here, but she seems to have settled. As well as she can, at any rate. It would be a very long journey for her to return.”
“And expensive,” muttered Erik. “Though I’m sure her grandfather could pay it.”
I shrugged. “I can but ask.”
I poured the tea, then passed out the cups and held mine aloft. We drank a toast to the future, to the continuation of the Farkas family, and to days filled with happiness.
God knew both my brother and I had seen our share of darkness. It was time, at long last, to welcome some light.
*
I helped Erik and Anette to unpack, and prepared a pot of goulash for dinner. I took a moment after serving to lead the three of us in prayer, then we tucked in.
When we were concluded, Anette got to her feet.
“That was delicious. Thank you, Zíta,” she smiled. “Would you mind if I took a moment to lie down? I feel rather weary.”
“Of course,” said Erik. “Go on, drágám. I’ll be with you shortly.”
They smiled at each other, then Anette slipped through the door to the bedroom. I gathered the dishes and dropped them into the sink to wash later.
“Can I help with anything?” asked Erik.
I shook my head. “You help simply by being here.”
I took a pot of boiling water from the fireplace and poured the contents over the bowls. Then I pulled Erik into an embrace. Neither of us spoke. We just held each other. I breathed in his scent; felt the familiar grip of his arms. My dear little brother, who was not so little anymore.
“It’s wonderful to have you back,” I said. “So much has happened so quickly. Can you not stay? I’ve been holding a brave face for the sake of everyone else, but I hate being so alone.”
“Then why not come with us?” Erik offered. “You know you would be welcome. It’s difficult for me as well, being away from home.”
“Exactly. This is your home,” I insisted. “Why do you need to go to Buda-Pesth? You have everything you need here. It was always enough for you before.”
“Because I had never left it,” he said. “The world is a larger place than this village, Zíta. Éva has travelled and done well for herself. Apa travelled. Why not us? Nothing binds us here anymore.”
“Éva and Apa had no choice,” I reminded him. “Éva has gone to someone with money, who can provide better for her than we ever could. By God, I know we told her that, to make her feel better, but even as I said it, it was like a knife in my heart! She should be here, too. And as for Apa… Erik, you know why he left.”
Darkness swept into my words. Erik heard it. I saw it reflected in his eyes, like a cloud passing across a perfect blue sky.
“You need to stop worrying,” he said.
“I will stop worrying on the day I die,” I replied firmly. “My wariness is the reason this place hasn’t been decimated.”
Erik threw a glance over his shoulder, to ensure Anette wouldn’t hear.
“There are no vampires anymore,” he whispered. “You need not stand at the watchtower for the rest of your life. In all our years, there have only been three instances. Three, in two decades.”
“Three too many. And one which will scar us forever.”
“I know, but I cannot nurse that wound forever. The Final Purge is over, Zíta. It’s done. We remember, but it’s not good to carry it like a millstone around one’s neck.”
I shook my head again. “It’s not done. One got away. Éva saw him.”
“But she didn’t recognise him. And he cannot reach her in England. You know it’s impossible for dark ones to leave their country of origin.”
As Erik spoke, I glanced behind him, at the fireplace. The log I had added earlier was broken into orange embers. I sidled past and placed another on the top.
“Birch, still?” Erik remarked.
“You know it’s the only thing which keeps Lidércs away.”
“There is no Lidérc. He’s long gone. You said yourself, he wouldn’t come back again.”
“I will take no chances. Not with that creature. You didn’t see him like I did. Never have I known any man who appeared to me as such a monster. Those eyes… He warned me…”
Erik took hold of my shoulders and forced me to look at him.
“Please, stop torturing yourself,” he said. “If you’re so worried about him, then don’t stay here, where he knows we have roots. Come with me to Buda-Pesth. Make a new life under a new roof. There’s nothing left here. Nothing but memories and graves.”
My heart sank at his words. He had always been less superstitious than I, even after all we had witnessed.
“Do you honestly think vampires will no longer pose a threat if you go to the city?” I asked. “Apa vanquished the Lidércs, but there are other types! Have you so readily forgotten this autumn just past? The Izcacus which attacked Éva?”
Erik bristled. “Of course I haven’t! But she’s fine! She was lucky. Just a scratch, a little blood lost, and nothing more.”
I shook my head. Nothing more? How could he say that?
But I could sense, from his hardening tone and eyes, that I would not reach him. He wanted to move on, and a part of me wanted that for him. The truth we carried was a weight upon anyone’s shoulders; one we had borne as an entire village for so long, with he and myself at the helm. To us, the nature of the dark was a simple, if not terrible, fact of life
Nem. I would stay here. For as holy as we were, Hattyúpatak was a place tainted by night. It needed me.
“Ignorance will not protect you,” I muttered, with a glance towards the third room, its door firmly closed. Éva’s room.
Erik must have realised he had hurt me, because he embraced me, and when he spoke, his voice was softer.
“I don’t plead ignorance,” he said. “I just have faith that light can drive out darkness.”
I sighed. “If that is what you wish, I won’t impede it. But, Erik, for God’s sake, don’t ever forget. And I don’t only mean Apa and what he did for us. Vampires are real.”
“I know,” he replied. “I know.”
He kissed me on the cheek, then drew away to join Anette in the bedroom.
I blinked back tears. I needed to occupy myself. Keeping busy was the best manner to deal with anything unpleasant. So I washed the dishes before the water could cool, set them aside to drain, then wrapped a shawl about my shoulders and headed outside with the pail.
The evening sky opened around me like a crisp red dome. Gold-rimmed clouds drifted lazily on the horizon. I closed my eyes as I walked. There was no worry of stumbling. I knew these pathways so perfectly, they might have been an extension of my own body. In some respects, I supposed they were.
I cast my eyes to the graveyard, and lowered my head in respect. Even from a distance, I could see Apa’s stone, laden with flowers and offerings: more a shrine than a tomb. None of the Christian leaders knew his name, but here, Alexander Farkas was a saint. He had lost his life in delivering Austria-Hungary from demons. All were indebted to him: that modest, invisible man, who walked willingly among beasts.
I reached the well, hooked the pail onto the rope and eased it down. The pulley creaked as I turned it; intertwined with the whisper of the stream. I watched the sunlight dapple the surface into liquid silver.
So simple a sight, so tranquil in the crisp afternoon. But I remembered it darkened by the reflection of a thousand demons being forced back to Hell, the air thick with the scent of burning birch, the grass covered in blood…
A face loomed in my mind. Not Apa’s, not any of my family’s, but one too perfect to be real. Those eyes, black as night, burning with hatred and all the powers of Hell. My father had vanquished every single Lidérc in the country, save for one. The one which had murdered my cousin Mirriam, and then him; tried to kill me and take little Éva away.
I shuddered. No, I could not think on that creature. I had to take comfort from what Erik had said. He was gone, long gone. And I would be ready if he ever came back.
And Éva, far on the other side of Europe… She was untouchable. The demon could never reach her again.
“Jó napot, Zíta.”
The voice jolted me from the mire of my thoughts. I glanced over my shoulder and found my neighbour, Flóra. She clutched her own pail in her hands.
I pulled a smile onto my face.
“I won’t be a moment.”
“Oh, take your time,” Flóra insisted, then coughed into her elbow.
My heart jumped with pity. She was ten years younger than me, but sickly. For as long as I had known her, illness had wracked her body, and I doubted there was a single bone which she hadn’t broken. In some respects, it amazed me that she had even survived to adulthood. But, then again, she was of Hattyúpatak. Our weakest links would be the strongest anywhere else.
I set my pail on the rim of the well, took her bucket and lowered it. Flóra gave me a small smile of thanks. I winked at her, then hauled it back up, brimming with water.
“Can you manage?” I asked.
She nodded, but her thin arms shook when she lifted the handle.
“Thank you,” she said. Even her voice was tiny, as though it were more likely to come out of a mouse than a grown woman.
“Go home and sit by the fire, before you catch your death,” I said.
I watched her, to ensure she reached the door without stumbling. Then I went to return to the house, but a sudden sound made me look up. It was the rattle of wheels on the road: the post wagon. It halted in the square at the centre of the village, the driver retrieved a sack, and began flitting between houses to slide envelopes under the doors.
He passed two letters to me.
“Köszönöm,” I smiled. “Bless you.”
“You too, Miss Farkas,” he replied. “Apologies for them coming so late. Everything slows around Christmas time.”
I glanced at the papers, and at once, recognised Éva’s hand. In the corners of both were stamps bearing the profile of Queen Victoria. They had come from England.
What news would she have for me this time? The last I had heard from her was shortly after her arrival. She had told me of her grandfather, how kindly he was treating her; the impressive wardrobe she had been gifted. It was the life she should have always known.
I set the pail inside the door and went to the spare bedroom to fetch Erik. Surely, he would want to hear everything she had to say. But I hesitated, pressed my ear to the wood, and heard his soft snoring. It certainly had been a long ride for him and Anette, and a warm, heavy lunch would not have helped. I’d tell him later.
Instead, I entered Éva’s room, and sat upon her bed. It was a bare place, but I still fancied I could catch her smell, even among the tools and lengths of rope which I had deposited inside. I slid my finger under the seal and unfolded the topmost letter, with the earliest postmark.
I frowned. Éva was steady, almost calligraphic in her penmanship. But this appeared so rushed, I might not have recognised it, save for the distinct way she looped her letters.
As I read on, my blood turned to ice in my veins.
21st December, 1894
My dear Zíta,
I cannot begin to tell you of my joy to hear of Erik’s engagement. Please give him my fondest love, and pass my good wishes to everyone at home. I miss you terribly, with all my heart.
Last night, I attended a Christmas party at the home of one of Grandfather’s old friends, Mr Henry Jones. While there, I was introduced to his son, Benjamin. He is partial to poetry, and appeared very interested in my origins. It is pleasant to have met another close to my own age. The only others are Grandfather’s servants, and they are also kind to me.
But, Zíta, I cannot delay this any longer. I have dreadful news. When I retired to bed last night, I was awoken by a figure in the room with me. At first, I thought it an intruder, which would have been terrible enough – but then I saw black eyes and smelled blood upon its breath. There is a vampire here! Dark ones lurk in England, and there is one in this very city! I screamed for help and it left me, though I am still shaken. I dread nightfall. I don’t know what I am supposed to do – Please write and speak comfort to me. You know more of these devils than anyone else.
All my love, from Éva.
My mind raced with horror. I tossed the letter aside and ripped open the second one. This time, her hand was even shakier. The nib had spattered, and the ink was smudged. She had been crying.
23rd December, 1894.
Zíta –
Forgive me for writing so soon after my last letter, but I must. The creature returned. I tried to defend myself with Grandfather’s revolver, but it left no effect on him. And I recognise him! He is a police officer who does the night rounds in the nearby park – I have seen him often. His name is James Hayes, or, at least, that is what he claims. And he has claimed so much!
Dear Zíta – do you remember when I was attacked in the forest, and we all believed it was a kill attempt which I avoided, by grace of God? He claims otherwise! He told me that I am for the same path as him: infected and damned to become a dark one! He said I would not have been bitten upon the neck in such a manner otherwise. He also described, with perfect accuracy, the maladies I have been experiencing since: sensitivity to light, the blisters from the sun’s touch – even the sight which I saw, of blackness running through my veins after I was bitten – all true! He could not know that! Not unless it had also happened to him! Furthermore, he says I am not a full vampire yet, but that I will become dangerous, and has offered to assist me. He intends to tempt me into darkness!
Forgive me for such an onslaught of information, and for the state of me, but I am so frightened! Zíta, you told me that vampires cannot be made, that they are things of Hell and nothing more. Please tell me this is true, that my illnesses are just from travel and a wet northern winter! I cannot become like that beast, can I? I shall not be as the monster which killed Anya and Great-Uncle Alexander? God help me! Help me!
I gasped for breath. This couldn’t be real…
The papers fluttered to the floor. I covered my mouth, afraid I would vomit. I had to tell Erik… but I couldn’t move. My legs had turned to stone; panic flooded my body like hot lead.
What was I going to do? This was my worst nightmare happening all over again, and I was powerless to stop it! Not Éva… Not that sweet, innocent girl who had watched her mother be torn apart before her…
The room blacked out. The memories came so thick and so fast, I couldn’t brace myself before they crashed into me.
I was ten years old, hearing Apa shouting and screaming. A vampire had come inside the house, seated itself upon Anya’s chest and drank her dry. Apa had fetched a fire iron and staked it through the heart. I held Erik; spent the night clutching him and weeping…
Then I was doing the same, only it was not my brother in my arms, but Éva, almost twenty years later. Just a few months ago. She lay on her back in the forest just outside the village, her beautiful face pale and drawn, and a wound upon her neck. I knew at once what had caused it, but I’d had no reason to believe anything besides her being fed from. I had seen it before, of course: it looked like a scratch, but with a distinctive curve, lined up with the front teeth, sharp enough to have been made by a razor.
Was it even possible for a human to become a vampire? It couldn’t be. They were only demons in the shape of humans, made that way in order to trick innocent children of God. That was what Apa had told me, and I believed it. I believed everything he’d ever said.
Leviticus 17:14: For it is the life of all flesh; the blood of it is for the life thereof: therefore I said unto the children of Israel, Ye shall eat the blood of no manner of flesh: for the life of all flesh is the blood thereof: whosoever eateth it shall be cut off.
Yes, demons of Hell. Nothing more. They could never be human, or come from humans…
And yet, I thought of the one Lidérc which had escaped, when we drove them across the border. I’d never known him, but Mirriam had. His photograph had hung on the wall of this very house until that awful night. That sepia photograph, of him standing beside her, with an infant Éva.
“Nem,” I whispered. “Wicked! Wicked!”
My own words felt hollow. I held the letters against my heart. I needed to stop thinking of that beast, and focus on her. I could almost hear her voice crying in my ear. The same little girl I had rescued, as her mother’s life was snuffed out. I had to help her, somehow. There must be a way.
I stepped back into the yard. Night had descended and transformed the land into shades of deep blue. There were no clouds, and no moon, only a million stars which seemed to glare upon me like eyes. In the past, I had believed them miniature glimpses of Heaven, but tonight, I found no such reassurance. The sky was too open, too dark. I felt so exposed beneath it. No larger than an ant.
The chickens clucked inside the henhouse. Habit took over. I lowered the hatch so no foxes could steal in during the night. Yes, one thing at a time. Control what one could when everything else was out of control.
I stared out into the village, towards the stream, at the very spot where Mirriam and my Apa had met their ends. It seemed closer in the darkness, as though the grass were only a thin skin, covering a maw which might open and swallow me. I smelled the blood in my memory; heard the ghostly sound of all of us singing, cheering, screaming…
On the night of the Final Purge, that creature had crept into the house, just as my own Anya’s killer did. I’d found him bent over Mirriam and Éva, and I had driven him away at knifepoint. Then Apa had caught him and forced him among his disgusting kin. I looked on in triumph as they crossed the border, out of Hungary, fading into the air like mist before a morning sun. I remembered the giant bat wings, the gnashing teeth, the long dark fingernails clawing desperately at the air.
Such vengeance, such divine justice, dealt right here on Earth! We would make these monsters extinct; erase them from history! They would never drain the blood of the innocent again!
And then: the glow. It appeared like a candle, hovering before the demons: beautiful, golden; so tempting in its warmth. Come closer, it had seemed to beckon. Closer…
I heard it singing in my ear, working through my skin to my bones. But I had called upon the name of the Lord to give me strength. My dear cousin Mirriam, however, could not resist. She ran forward, and as soon as she was close enough, the creature had ripped itself free of the others, risen into the air with her, and brought its teeth towards her throat.
János Kálvin was his name. Mirriam’s husband, Éva’s father. He had vanished four years before the Final Purge, presumed dead by all. But what if he hadn’t died? What if, like Éva, it had been something more?
The memory faded. The grass became clean once again; the air clear; the night silent, save for the lonely hoot of an owl. The shadowy silhouettes of bats flitted overhead. I eyed them and drew the cross over my chest.
I had to do something. I had to help her. Vampires were things of Hell, but if they could make others like them, that must be why Éva was fighting. After all, weren’t humans born sinners, given absolution by living worthy of God and their fellow man?
My old resolve settled around my heart like stone. Dark ones were unable to survive outside their own country, but Éva was in England. Therefore, I needed to send a piece of Hungary to her.
I bent down, dug my hand into the earth and pulled it up: clods of soil and root. I hurried back inside, placed it on a sheet of paper and folded it into a small parcel. Then I snatched more paper, a pen and inkwell, and began my reply.
I wouldn’t tell Erik. He had made it clear that he didn’t wish for any more burdens, and this one would break him. I would protect him and Anette’s future, as I had protected our entire village. As I would do everything in my power to protect Éva.
Let God be my witness, I thought, she will not become as those demons.
When we were concluded, Anette got to her feet.
“That was delicious. Thank you, Zíta,” she smiled. “Would you mind if I took a moment to lie down? I feel rather weary.”
“Of course,” said Erik. “Go on, drágám. I’ll be with you shortly.”
They smiled at each other, then Anette slipped through the door to the bedroom. I gathered the dishes and dropped them into the sink to wash later.
“Can I help with anything?” asked Erik.
I shook my head. “You help simply by being here.”
I took a pot of boiling water from the fireplace and poured the contents over the bowls. Then I pulled Erik into an embrace. Neither of us spoke. We just held each other. I breathed in his scent; felt the familiar grip of his arms. My dear little brother, who was not so little anymore.
“It’s wonderful to have you back,” I said. “So much has happened so quickly. Can you not stay? I’ve been holding a brave face for the sake of everyone else, but I hate being so alone.”
“Then why not come with us?” Erik offered. “You know you would be welcome. It’s difficult for me as well, being away from home.”
“Exactly. This is your home,” I insisted. “Why do you need to go to Buda-Pesth? You have everything you need here. It was always enough for you before.”
“Because I had never left it,” he said. “The world is a larger place than this village, Zíta. Éva has travelled and done well for herself. Apa travelled. Why not us? Nothing binds us here anymore.”
“Éva and Apa had no choice,” I reminded him. “Éva has gone to someone with money, who can provide better for her than we ever could. By God, I know we told her that, to make her feel better, but even as I said it, it was like a knife in my heart! She should be here, too. And as for Apa… Erik, you know why he left.”
Darkness swept into my words. Erik heard it. I saw it reflected in his eyes, like a cloud passing across a perfect blue sky.
“You need to stop worrying,” he said.
“I will stop worrying on the day I die,” I replied firmly. “My wariness is the reason this place hasn’t been decimated.”
Erik threw a glance over his shoulder, to ensure Anette wouldn’t hear.
“There are no vampires anymore,” he whispered. “You need not stand at the watchtower for the rest of your life. In all our years, there have only been three instances. Three, in two decades.”
“Three too many. And one which will scar us forever.”
“I know, but I cannot nurse that wound forever. The Final Purge is over, Zíta. It’s done. We remember, but it’s not good to carry it like a millstone around one’s neck.”
I shook my head again. “It’s not done. One got away. Éva saw him.”
“But she didn’t recognise him. And he cannot reach her in England. You know it’s impossible for dark ones to leave their country of origin.”
As Erik spoke, I glanced behind him, at the fireplace. The log I had added earlier was broken into orange embers. I sidled past and placed another on the top.
“Birch, still?” Erik remarked.
“You know it’s the only thing which keeps Lidércs away.”
“There is no Lidérc. He’s long gone. You said yourself, he wouldn’t come back again.”
“I will take no chances. Not with that creature. You didn’t see him like I did. Never have I known any man who appeared to me as such a monster. Those eyes… He warned me…”
Erik took hold of my shoulders and forced me to look at him.
“Please, stop torturing yourself,” he said. “If you’re so worried about him, then don’t stay here, where he knows we have roots. Come with me to Buda-Pesth. Make a new life under a new roof. There’s nothing left here. Nothing but memories and graves.”
My heart sank at his words. He had always been less superstitious than I, even after all we had witnessed.
“Do you honestly think vampires will no longer pose a threat if you go to the city?” I asked. “Apa vanquished the Lidércs, but there are other types! Have you so readily forgotten this autumn just past? The Izcacus which attacked Éva?”
Erik bristled. “Of course I haven’t! But she’s fine! She was lucky. Just a scratch, a little blood lost, and nothing more.”
I shook my head. Nothing more? How could he say that?
But I could sense, from his hardening tone and eyes, that I would not reach him. He wanted to move on, and a part of me wanted that for him. The truth we carried was a weight upon anyone’s shoulders; one we had borne as an entire village for so long, with he and myself at the helm. To us, the nature of the dark was a simple, if not terrible, fact of life
Nem. I would stay here. For as holy as we were, Hattyúpatak was a place tainted by night. It needed me.
“Ignorance will not protect you,” I muttered, with a glance towards the third room, its door firmly closed. Éva’s room.
Erik must have realised he had hurt me, because he embraced me, and when he spoke, his voice was softer.
“I don’t plead ignorance,” he said. “I just have faith that light can drive out darkness.”
I sighed. “If that is what you wish, I won’t impede it. But, Erik, for God’s sake, don’t ever forget. And I don’t only mean Apa and what he did for us. Vampires are real.”
“I know,” he replied. “I know.”
He kissed me on the cheek, then drew away to join Anette in the bedroom.
I blinked back tears. I needed to occupy myself. Keeping busy was the best manner to deal with anything unpleasant. So I washed the dishes before the water could cool, set them aside to drain, then wrapped a shawl about my shoulders and headed outside with the pail.
The evening sky opened around me like a crisp red dome. Gold-rimmed clouds drifted lazily on the horizon. I closed my eyes as I walked. There was no worry of stumbling. I knew these pathways so perfectly, they might have been an extension of my own body. In some respects, I supposed they were.
I cast my eyes to the graveyard, and lowered my head in respect. Even from a distance, I could see Apa’s stone, laden with flowers and offerings: more a shrine than a tomb. None of the Christian leaders knew his name, but here, Alexander Farkas was a saint. He had lost his life in delivering Austria-Hungary from demons. All were indebted to him: that modest, invisible man, who walked willingly among beasts.
I reached the well, hooked the pail onto the rope and eased it down. The pulley creaked as I turned it; intertwined with the whisper of the stream. I watched the sunlight dapple the surface into liquid silver.
So simple a sight, so tranquil in the crisp afternoon. But I remembered it darkened by the reflection of a thousand demons being forced back to Hell, the air thick with the scent of burning birch, the grass covered in blood…
A face loomed in my mind. Not Apa’s, not any of my family’s, but one too perfect to be real. Those eyes, black as night, burning with hatred and all the powers of Hell. My father had vanquished every single Lidérc in the country, save for one. The one which had murdered my cousin Mirriam, and then him; tried to kill me and take little Éva away.
I shuddered. No, I could not think on that creature. I had to take comfort from what Erik had said. He was gone, long gone. And I would be ready if he ever came back.
And Éva, far on the other side of Europe… She was untouchable. The demon could never reach her again.
“Jó napot, Zíta.”
The voice jolted me from the mire of my thoughts. I glanced over my shoulder and found my neighbour, Flóra. She clutched her own pail in her hands.
I pulled a smile onto my face.
“I won’t be a moment.”
“Oh, take your time,” Flóra insisted, then coughed into her elbow.
My heart jumped with pity. She was ten years younger than me, but sickly. For as long as I had known her, illness had wracked her body, and I doubted there was a single bone which she hadn’t broken. In some respects, it amazed me that she had even survived to adulthood. But, then again, she was of Hattyúpatak. Our weakest links would be the strongest anywhere else.
I set my pail on the rim of the well, took her bucket and lowered it. Flóra gave me a small smile of thanks. I winked at her, then hauled it back up, brimming with water.
“Can you manage?” I asked.
She nodded, but her thin arms shook when she lifted the handle.
“Thank you,” she said. Even her voice was tiny, as though it were more likely to come out of a mouse than a grown woman.
“Go home and sit by the fire, before you catch your death,” I said.
I watched her, to ensure she reached the door without stumbling. Then I went to return to the house, but a sudden sound made me look up. It was the rattle of wheels on the road: the post wagon. It halted in the square at the centre of the village, the driver retrieved a sack, and began flitting between houses to slide envelopes under the doors.
He passed two letters to me.
“Köszönöm,” I smiled. “Bless you.”
“You too, Miss Farkas,” he replied. “Apologies for them coming so late. Everything slows around Christmas time.”
I glanced at the papers, and at once, recognised Éva’s hand. In the corners of both were stamps bearing the profile of Queen Victoria. They had come from England.
What news would she have for me this time? The last I had heard from her was shortly after her arrival. She had told me of her grandfather, how kindly he was treating her; the impressive wardrobe she had been gifted. It was the life she should have always known.
I set the pail inside the door and went to the spare bedroom to fetch Erik. Surely, he would want to hear everything she had to say. But I hesitated, pressed my ear to the wood, and heard his soft snoring. It certainly had been a long ride for him and Anette, and a warm, heavy lunch would not have helped. I’d tell him later.
Instead, I entered Éva’s room, and sat upon her bed. It was a bare place, but I still fancied I could catch her smell, even among the tools and lengths of rope which I had deposited inside. I slid my finger under the seal and unfolded the topmost letter, with the earliest postmark.
I frowned. Éva was steady, almost calligraphic in her penmanship. But this appeared so rushed, I might not have recognised it, save for the distinct way she looped her letters.
As I read on, my blood turned to ice in my veins.
21st December, 1894
My dear Zíta,
I cannot begin to tell you of my joy to hear of Erik’s engagement. Please give him my fondest love, and pass my good wishes to everyone at home. I miss you terribly, with all my heart.
Last night, I attended a Christmas party at the home of one of Grandfather’s old friends, Mr Henry Jones. While there, I was introduced to his son, Benjamin. He is partial to poetry, and appeared very interested in my origins. It is pleasant to have met another close to my own age. The only others are Grandfather’s servants, and they are also kind to me.
But, Zíta, I cannot delay this any longer. I have dreadful news. When I retired to bed last night, I was awoken by a figure in the room with me. At first, I thought it an intruder, which would have been terrible enough – but then I saw black eyes and smelled blood upon its breath. There is a vampire here! Dark ones lurk in England, and there is one in this very city! I screamed for help and it left me, though I am still shaken. I dread nightfall. I don’t know what I am supposed to do – Please write and speak comfort to me. You know more of these devils than anyone else.
All my love, from Éva.
My mind raced with horror. I tossed the letter aside and ripped open the second one. This time, her hand was even shakier. The nib had spattered, and the ink was smudged. She had been crying.
23rd December, 1894.
Zíta –
Forgive me for writing so soon after my last letter, but I must. The creature returned. I tried to defend myself with Grandfather’s revolver, but it left no effect on him. And I recognise him! He is a police officer who does the night rounds in the nearby park – I have seen him often. His name is James Hayes, or, at least, that is what he claims. And he has claimed so much!
Dear Zíta – do you remember when I was attacked in the forest, and we all believed it was a kill attempt which I avoided, by grace of God? He claims otherwise! He told me that I am for the same path as him: infected and damned to become a dark one! He said I would not have been bitten upon the neck in such a manner otherwise. He also described, with perfect accuracy, the maladies I have been experiencing since: sensitivity to light, the blisters from the sun’s touch – even the sight which I saw, of blackness running through my veins after I was bitten – all true! He could not know that! Not unless it had also happened to him! Furthermore, he says I am not a full vampire yet, but that I will become dangerous, and has offered to assist me. He intends to tempt me into darkness!
Forgive me for such an onslaught of information, and for the state of me, but I am so frightened! Zíta, you told me that vampires cannot be made, that they are things of Hell and nothing more. Please tell me this is true, that my illnesses are just from travel and a wet northern winter! I cannot become like that beast, can I? I shall not be as the monster which killed Anya and Great-Uncle Alexander? God help me! Help me!
I gasped for breath. This couldn’t be real…
The papers fluttered to the floor. I covered my mouth, afraid I would vomit. I had to tell Erik… but I couldn’t move. My legs had turned to stone; panic flooded my body like hot lead.
What was I going to do? This was my worst nightmare happening all over again, and I was powerless to stop it! Not Éva… Not that sweet, innocent girl who had watched her mother be torn apart before her…
The room blacked out. The memories came so thick and so fast, I couldn’t brace myself before they crashed into me.
I was ten years old, hearing Apa shouting and screaming. A vampire had come inside the house, seated itself upon Anya’s chest and drank her dry. Apa had fetched a fire iron and staked it through the heart. I held Erik; spent the night clutching him and weeping…
Then I was doing the same, only it was not my brother in my arms, but Éva, almost twenty years later. Just a few months ago. She lay on her back in the forest just outside the village, her beautiful face pale and drawn, and a wound upon her neck. I knew at once what had caused it, but I’d had no reason to believe anything besides her being fed from. I had seen it before, of course: it looked like a scratch, but with a distinctive curve, lined up with the front teeth, sharp enough to have been made by a razor.
Was it even possible for a human to become a vampire? It couldn’t be. They were only demons in the shape of humans, made that way in order to trick innocent children of God. That was what Apa had told me, and I believed it. I believed everything he’d ever said.
Leviticus 17:14: For it is the life of all flesh; the blood of it is for the life thereof: therefore I said unto the children of Israel, Ye shall eat the blood of no manner of flesh: for the life of all flesh is the blood thereof: whosoever eateth it shall be cut off.
Yes, demons of Hell. Nothing more. They could never be human, or come from humans…
And yet, I thought of the one Lidérc which had escaped, when we drove them across the border. I’d never known him, but Mirriam had. His photograph had hung on the wall of this very house until that awful night. That sepia photograph, of him standing beside her, with an infant Éva.
“Nem,” I whispered. “Wicked! Wicked!”
My own words felt hollow. I held the letters against my heart. I needed to stop thinking of that beast, and focus on her. I could almost hear her voice crying in my ear. The same little girl I had rescued, as her mother’s life was snuffed out. I had to help her, somehow. There must be a way.
I stepped back into the yard. Night had descended and transformed the land into shades of deep blue. There were no clouds, and no moon, only a million stars which seemed to glare upon me like eyes. In the past, I had believed them miniature glimpses of Heaven, but tonight, I found no such reassurance. The sky was too open, too dark. I felt so exposed beneath it. No larger than an ant.
The chickens clucked inside the henhouse. Habit took over. I lowered the hatch so no foxes could steal in during the night. Yes, one thing at a time. Control what one could when everything else was out of control.
I stared out into the village, towards the stream, at the very spot where Mirriam and my Apa had met their ends. It seemed closer in the darkness, as though the grass were only a thin skin, covering a maw which might open and swallow me. I smelled the blood in my memory; heard the ghostly sound of all of us singing, cheering, screaming…
On the night of the Final Purge, that creature had crept into the house, just as my own Anya’s killer did. I’d found him bent over Mirriam and Éva, and I had driven him away at knifepoint. Then Apa had caught him and forced him among his disgusting kin. I looked on in triumph as they crossed the border, out of Hungary, fading into the air like mist before a morning sun. I remembered the giant bat wings, the gnashing teeth, the long dark fingernails clawing desperately at the air.
Such vengeance, such divine justice, dealt right here on Earth! We would make these monsters extinct; erase them from history! They would never drain the blood of the innocent again!
And then: the glow. It appeared like a candle, hovering before the demons: beautiful, golden; so tempting in its warmth. Come closer, it had seemed to beckon. Closer…
I heard it singing in my ear, working through my skin to my bones. But I had called upon the name of the Lord to give me strength. My dear cousin Mirriam, however, could not resist. She ran forward, and as soon as she was close enough, the creature had ripped itself free of the others, risen into the air with her, and brought its teeth towards her throat.
János Kálvin was his name. Mirriam’s husband, Éva’s father. He had vanished four years before the Final Purge, presumed dead by all. But what if he hadn’t died? What if, like Éva, it had been something more?
The memory faded. The grass became clean once again; the air clear; the night silent, save for the lonely hoot of an owl. The shadowy silhouettes of bats flitted overhead. I eyed them and drew the cross over my chest.
I had to do something. I had to help her. Vampires were things of Hell, but if they could make others like them, that must be why Éva was fighting. After all, weren’t humans born sinners, given absolution by living worthy of God and their fellow man?
My old resolve settled around my heart like stone. Dark ones were unable to survive outside their own country, but Éva was in England. Therefore, I needed to send a piece of Hungary to her.
I bent down, dug my hand into the earth and pulled it up: clods of soil and root. I hurried back inside, placed it on a sheet of paper and folded it into a small parcel. Then I snatched more paper, a pen and inkwell, and began my reply.
I wouldn’t tell Erik. He had made it clear that he didn’t wish for any more burdens, and this one would break him. I would protect him and Anette’s future, as I had protected our entire village. As I would do everything in my power to protect Éva.
Let God be my witness, I thought, she will not become as those demons.
*
The fields around Hattyúpatak turned green and sweet under the air of summer. Sunflowers turned their yellow faces towards the sky. The days were long, the hours drifting lazily, despite everyone working harder than bees in a hive. It was a picture of beauty, splashed with colour, bountiful with life.
I surveyed it all amid a peculiar personal stillness. I had to keep myself busy. I felt no better than when I did something for the benefit of the village. I turned my attention wherever it was needed, and placed my focus upon Erik and Anette’s wedding. The date had been set for September: the final blaze of joy before autumn wheeled itself in.
While they were back in Győrtelek, I minded the fields from dusk until dawn, preparing for harvest. The time was growing closer now, and crows descended like a plague, trying to pick off whatever they could. I waved a stick and threw stones at them when the scarecrow ceased to be effective.
I decided, I hated crows just as much as bats. The way they moved reminded me too much of the dark ones. And they were smart. Too smart.
Finally, the wedding day arrived. I stood in the front pew as Anette’s father walked her down the aisle. My heart swelled to look upon her and Erik. I had never seen my little brother so happy. When he gazed into her eyes, it was almost as though a part of his own soul stared back.
Was that what it had been like when our parents had exchanged their vows? Or when Mirriam had turned to her own husband?
I shook my head to empty it of the thought. But it was too late. It only reminded me, too well, that the rest of my family was not beside me.
I slipped my hand into my pocket, where I had placed Éva’s latest letter. I had sent her the Hungarian earth back in February, and it seemed to be working. But it didn’t settle my heart. I hated being so far from her, feeling so helpless…
Stop it, I thought firmly. I couldn’t allow myself to become melancholy, not today.
So I smiled as Erik slid a second ring onto his bride’s finger, and József wrapped his stole around their hands.
“What God has joined together, let no man put asunder.”
“No man, or less,” I whispered.
Erik lifted the veil from Anette’s face and kissed her.
Outside the church, children threw white petals into the air. Anette turned her back and tossed her sunflower bouquet. The young girls scrambled to catch it, and it fell into Flóra’s arms. She jumped on the spot like a March hare, squealing with excitement.
We sat down to a feast in the square. Every household dragged out their tables to create a single long one. Flowers lay among the dishes and filled their air with fragrance. Overhead, the sky turned mellow, as though it had been brushed by honey.
I regarded the scene in silence. One perfect moment. I could almost imagine it existing inside a bubble, cut off from the rest of the world. Nothing dark could penetrate such happiness. No memory of bloodstained grass and burning birch. We had harnessed a little piece of Heaven today. God and the angels and my dear parents were looking down on us. I wouldn’t let that go.
I lifted my cup. Erik caught my eye and smiled.
“A toast to the bride and groom,” I said. “Mr and Mrs Farkas!”
“Farkas úr és asszony!” everyone repeated.
I looked straight at my brother, and raised my wine again.
“Isten áldd meg a magyart!”
At that, the cheer became even louder, and we all drank at the same time.
We ate and danced until the sun began to set, then Erik and Anette climbed aboard the wagonette. Their luggage was already packed, and the youngsters had spent the previous day decorating the frame with every scrap of white muslin they could find.
József blessed the couple one final time. I approached on the other side, and took of Erik’s hand.
“Mind how you go,” I said. “Don’t forget to write. Promise.”
“I will,” Erik replied. “But I want you to promise me that you’ll stop worrying.”
I sighed. As he spoke, I felt Éva’s letter, as though it had turned to stone in my pocket. A part of me wanted to tell him; to reveal what she had confided, and use it to remind him of how dangerous the dark ones were. But this was far from the place and time. I would not take this day from him.
“How long will you stay in Győrtelek?” I asked.
“Long enough to appease the new in-laws,” Erik smirked, tossing his head towards a second wagon bearing Anette’s parents. “Buda-Pesth awaits. And you’re always welcome there, Zíta. As soon as we’re settled, I’ll send you the address. Come for Christmas, at least. Please.”
I nodded. “I will.”
That made me feel a little better. Christmas was only three months away. It mollified my fears somewhat, to count down the days until I would see my family again.
I bit the inside of my cheek so I wouldn’t cry, then stood back as the ponies moved off. They travelled west, into the sun, along the only road connecting Hattyúpatak to the rest of Austria-Hungary. The light stung my eyes, but I didn’t turn away. I wanted to remember this sweet moment forever.
“How are you, Zíta?” József asked quietly.
I sniffed back my tears. “I’ll be fine.”
“I know this has been a difficult day for you. I could see it in your face.”
“Was it so obvious?”
“Nem, not constantly. But on occasion, I noticed a hint of sadness. Don’t be ashamed.”
“How can I not be? I should be happy. Unconditionally happy.”
“And so, you are. That does not diminish anything else you feel,” József replied. “I know I never knew your parents, but I wish for your sake they could have been with you both in body today, not only in spirit. Éva, too. Have you heard from her?”
I nodded.
“How does she?”
“She’s well.”
It wasn’t a lie. Éva had told me her condition appeared to be under control, even though the vampire was still trying to tempt her. But she was steadfast. I knew that with all my heart. And she herself was engaged to be married now, to the young man she had met at the Christmas party. Yes, I had been correct. Life was providing for her in a way I never could have.
And yet, still, she was not relieved of the malady. No matter how vehemently I prayed, or how much goodness she held in her soul, my sweet cousin was no closer to deliverance.
What more could I do? Had my dear Apa been wrong? Were all dark ones made this way, with no rhyme or reason, no chance for liberation? Surely not. Wicked tigers were doomed, but God would save the innocent lambs. I had to believe that.
I helped clear the tables away and returned to the empty house. It was horribly quiet after having Erik and Anette with me for the previous week.
Realisation struck me. This truly was the end now. Until today, despite all Erik had said about going to Buda-Pesth, this place had still been his home. No longer. As his heartstrings were tied, the cords binding him to Hattyúpatak were cut.
Tears finally overcame me. Why was I not joyous? I should be. God, I should be so glad for Erik. But I could only see Éva. I imagined her beautiful blue eyes transforming as black as pitch, her teeth long and lethal, face streaked with blood.
The sobs shook my entire body, and sapped my energy until time lost its meaning. I felt no inclination to move, to even breathe, but force of habit made me continue.
The light moved, crept across the window and spread its glow upon the floor. Slowly, it faded into a blaze of red and gold. Wind whistled down the chimney and disturbed the ashes. They blew into the room, settling over my hands like snow.
After bracing myself, as though I were about to run for miles rather than walk three feet, I dragged myself to the hearth to relight the fire. I stuffed birch bark under the kindling and struck a match. As it caught, I stepped outside to see to the chickens. They clucked in indignation as I rounded them into the henhouse.
Night enveloped me. When I breathed, my breath misted in the air. I wouldn’t be surprised if I awoke tomorrow to the first frost of the year. Overhead, a full moon bore down on the village.
Then, suddenly, I heard a shriek. I spun around. It was coming from Flóra’s house.
She screamed again, louder this time. Other neighbours stumbled out in alarm. The sound gave me new energy, and I ran to her door.
“Flóra?” I called.
“Zíta!” she yelled. “Oh, God! Zíta, help me!”
I barged inside, straight to her bedroom. She was as white as a sheet; had pressed herself against the wall in fright. When she saw me, she threw herself at me with such vigour, both of us tumbled against the fireplace.
A crowd of concerned faces appeared in the doorway, József at the helm.
I took Flóra’s face in my hands.
“Look at me,” I said. “What happened? Did you have a nightmare?”
“Nem!” she cried. “Zíta, there was something in here! I swear! It was holding me down!”
“Something?” I repeated.
My eyes darted around the room. All the windows were locked. But the fire was burned out, and streaks of ash covered the flagstones.
A horrid suspicion took root in my gut. I rolled up the sleeves of Flóra’s nightdress, and froze. Just below her left elbow was a thin gash. The neighbours saw it, too, and gasped in horror.
“No!”
“Not again!”
“Did it come down the chimney? Oh, God! Where is it?”
At once, steely resolve pushed my gloominess away. I might have been a humble woman, but this was what I was made for.
“Everyone, keep calm! Just give me a moment!” I snapped.
I tore a strip off the hem of my skirt and wrapped it around Flóra’s wound. She fell against me, weeping and trembling like a terrified child. I hoisted her into my arms as though she weighed nothing, and set her in a chair in the main room.
“You’re going to be fine,” I said. “Tell me, what did you see?”
“Just a figure. It was too dark. I couldn’t make out details.”
My heart sank, but I refused to let it faze me. Instead, I beckoned one of the other women to sit with Flóra, and hurried outside. I grabbed József by the elbows as I passed him.
“We need to secure the village,” I said. “There’s one here.”
His eyes widened. “You’re certain?”
“Are we really going to have this discussion again?” I hissed, then raised my voice so all could hear. “We can prepare better tomorrow, in the daylight, but take every piece of birch wood in your stores and burn it through the night. When morning comes, paint every door with a crucifix.”
“What type is it?” József asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Probably another Izcacus, but just do everything, to be safe. Come, make haste!”
At once, all my neighbours sprang into action. I felt their fear, but their movements were akin to an army assembling before battle. Horrible as it was, we were no strangers to this. Men ran to the woodpiles and fetched armfuls of birch. Women picked out twigs and laid them end to end around houses. The woodcutters hurried to the nearest trees and hacked off branches. Torches were lit and thrust into the soil in a giant flaming circle.
Now it was four times in twenty years. How much longer were we to endure these Hellish attacks?
It didn’t matter. I would always be here to help defend us.
“Will it get through all this?” József asked nervously.
I shook my head. “I see no reason why. And it likely won’t come near us anyway, now it has… fed.”
Nausea rolled in my stomach. I thought of poor, weak little Flóra. I could still hear her sobbing.
“We just need to endure this one night,” I said. “We’ve done this before. We can do it again.”
József trembled. He hadn’t been here during the Final Purge. Indeed, when he arrived to replace my Apa as priest, he had taken the true history of Hattyúpatak as fancy, like we were all children crying about a shadow. But then, last year, after Éva was attacked and another girl killed outright, he slowly began listening to me. He was one of us now, however begrudgingly it had come about.
“How could this happen?” he breathed. “After such a glorious day?”
I bit my lip. I wasn’t sure if I was happy that Erik and Anette were gone. I just prayed they would be safe in Győrtelek.
“Why is it that the creatures always seem to come here?” József asked. “What has this community done to invite such evil?”
“Nothing,” I replied resolutely. “We are isolated. More so than others in the area. And frankly, I believe it’s also because we are so good. It draws them to us, like a moth to the flame.”
I tried to take comfort from the strength of my own tone, but that power was for all around me, not myself. Beneath an exterior of steel, I was as frightened as them, and so terribly tired. The ponderings of the dark ones had worn me down, like a stone the ocean had beaten against – not just over the past six months, but year after year. This onslaught was all I had ever known. Always fight, always stand tall, always be resolute in the face of eternal night. I was the daughter of Alexander Farkas: the man who delivered the entire country.
And yet I was still only a woman, who breathed the same air as any human. To be a living sword and shield was ingrained in my bones, but what of the heart caged behind that indomitable core? For once – just once – I wanted to lower my blade.
I returned to my house. The logs in the grate had taken now, and I added more: thick ones, to burn through the night. The glow flickered across the floor. I snatched twigs from the bottom of the woodpile, tucked some into my waistband, and lined the rest around the building in a giant circle. I had done the same for the Final Purge, so long ago.
I turned my eyes beyond the village border, into the darkness. What beast lay out there this time? Another Izcacus, I was sure – the same kind of vampire which had haunted us last autumn. Each type was slightly different, with varying weaknesses; Apa had told me that. But until I knew more, I couldn’t be sure what we needed to do. The birch would do nothing against an Izcacus, but it would deter and harm a Lidérc.
No, it wouldn’t be a Lidérc. There was only one of those left. The chances were far too low.
I headed through the streets to check on everyone. Several had returned home, but lights still burned in the windows. Men kept watch with rifles on their arms. Others had retreated into the church with József. As I drew close, I heard him leading them in prayer. Psalm 23:4.
“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me…”
I wandered closer, to join them, but as I entered the graveyard, I paused. I couldn’t go in there yet, and let them see me trembling. I had to have strength, and in times such as this, there was only one place I might find it.
I walked to Apa’s headstone and knelt before it. The grass was damp and freezing, but I scarcely felt it. I just lowered my head, clasped my hands, and wept.
“Help us,” I whispered. “Protect us, and Erik and Anette, and Éva. God, Apa, I’m so afraid!”
My shoulders shook – whether from cold, sobs or fear, I couldn’t say. I recalled standing in the crowd, watching my blessed father forcing the demons across the border. Éva, only four years old, clung to my arm in horror. I heard her little voice, and my own vicious response.
“But… they are people!”
“They are nothing of the sort! Never think otherwise!”
A tear rolled off the end of my nose. I brushed it away and opened my eyes.
I spotted something in the distance. I squinted, trying to make it out. A light, beyond the reaches of the torches: a single flickering candle. Had someone gone out there, looking for the creature? One of the woodcutters?
I staggered to my feet and drew in a breath, to call to whoever it was. But as soon as I did, the cry died on my tongue. One foot moved in front of the other, as though drawn by invisible marionette strings. The light pulsed pure gold. It was so beautiful… I couldn’t look away. I didn’t want to.
I stepped past the torches, over the birch twigs which had been laid around the church. Frosty grass crunched under my shoes. A mist started to come down, and hid the ground from view. I knew I should turn around, shout, close my eyes. But my body was not my own anymore.
Come closer, the light seemed to whisper in my mind. Closer still…
The hymn faded. I extended a hand through the thickening mist. I wanted to touch the light, to feel its warmth against my skin.
Then I paused. Another hand was already there, beneath it. The fingernails were long, black. Like a bird’s talons.
Panic exploded through my body. At once, the spell was broken. I spun around and sprinted back towards the village, but something clamped across my mouth. An arm wrapped around my middle. I gasped at the touch. It was so cold…
Two wings appeared in my periphery: skeletal, leathery, blacker than night. They bore me into the air. Hattyúpatak became tiny below me: a circle of firelight in never-ending darkness. I struggled with all my might, but couldn’t get free.
The demon flew into the forest and threw me down. I stumbled on fallen branches, then grabbed one and held it out like a spear. I could hardly see. The only glow came from the moon. Trees leered from the shadows like a million bars. There was no birch, only beeches and oaks, twisting their branches against the sky. Nature had formed a cage, and trapped me.
“Where are you?” I snarled, whipping the branch in all directions. “Where are you, devil?”
“Right here.”
My hair stood on end. That voice…
My eyes slowly adjusted, and then I saw the vampire, straight ahead of me. The wings were still spread behind him, held high and wide. I looked upon a face so pale, so faultless, it might have been carved from marble.
“You,” I breathed.
“You,” the Lidérc replied.
At once, I drew the birch twigs from my belt, and held them in my other hand. He didn’t move, but I could feel his eyes on me, as keen and dangerous as a tiger. I remembered staring into them, seeing that mouth painted with blood – Apa’s blood, Mirriam’s blood.
“Flóra,” I said. “That was you, wasn’t it?”
“A necessary evil. I would not expect you to understand. You never have.”
“There is nothing to understand! What are you doing here?”
The creature took a step closer. I immediately moved back, to keep the distance. I knew this thing could kill me before I even drew breath to scream, but still, I didn’t lower the branch. It was the only weapon I had.
I risked a glance in the direction of the village. So far away, muted by the mist, but I had to get there. I needed to escape.
“Do not bother calling for help,” said the Lidérc, as though he had read my mind. “They will not hear you from here. And I wish only to speak with you tonight, Zíta Farkas. There is no reason to involve anyone else.”
I struggled to breathe. His voice was cool, collected, with the same fine elocution of Buda-Pesth which Mirriam had used. But I couldn’t read his tone, and that terrified me.
Next month, sixteen years would have passed since the Final Purge, and he hadn’t aged a day. Still young: mid-twenties, unchanged save for his clothes. I wondered how he had come by them. Stolen? Ripped from the body of another innocent he had mutilated?
I had seen him in the photograph which Mirriam had hung on the wall in memory of him. She hadn’t known the truth of what he became. I was glad she never did. Not until the very end.
“Do you remember what I said to you?” the demon asked. “It is impossible to outrun a Lidérc. It has been a long time, but here I am. Such a long time for me to think on you, and all you took from me.”
“I took nothing from you,” I snapped. “You killed her!”
For the first time, I saw a flash of fury in his face.
A force as strong as a gale suddenly lifted me off the ground. My back hit a tree, but I didn’t fall. I hung there like a puppet, pinned in place by invisible ropes. Then the vampire looked at the branch, and at once, it was wrenched from my grasp. I swept the twigs at him, but his eyes fleeted to my wrist, and it too was restrained.
“Her blood is on your hands,” he snarled. “You drove me away from my family. You told lies, refused to listen. I never wanted this. I never asked to be this thing. I was like you, once.”
“You are nothing like me!”
“More lies. It is all you know: to lie! We were all human, every single one of us. We had livelihoods, homes, families. It just takes one moment, when you think you are alone; believe yourself safe. And then some stranger brings darkness upon you forever, without consent or care. But what would you care? You and your damned father were too concerned with murdering us. Pushing me away from the two people I love the most!”
He drew so close, I felt his icy breath on my cheek.
“Don’t you dare say a word against my father,” I spat.
“Why? He was a killer.”
“So are you! So were all of you!”
“And because he called on the name of God, that excused him? That gains him pity and adoration, when he had a choice about slaughtering us like pigs? What choice did we have, Farkas? None. Only necessity.”
“Necessity because you are evil!” I argued. “You are the spawn of Hell! You might have escaped my father, but you’ll never escape your own sin!”
The creature snatched my throat.
“Sin that you imposed upon me,” he growled. “I was a good man. I am a good man.”
“You are no man.”
“You have no right to tell me what I am. Now, you will listen. I did not intend to beckon you tonight. Or your brother, though I cannot seem to smell him anywhere. I intended to reach someone else, who is also missing. But I will give you a choice: one which you never gave me. I give you the opportunity to do the honourable thing, and show me you have changed.”
I gritted my teeth. “What choice is it?”
“Answer a simple question,” said the Lidérc. “Where is my daughter?”
Éva’s face flashed before me. Éva, with her angelic blue eyes…
I shook my head. “Somewhere you will never reach her, demon.”
The pressure intensified. I yelped in pain. It felt as though he was turning my chest inside-out...
“You kept me from her throughout her entire life,” he hissed. “You burned birch constantly, so I could not approach. She is the one thing I have left in the world!”
“And you only have yourself to blame for that!”
His fingers choked me. Still, I refused to back down, and I spat into his face.
His eyes narrowed. Then, on a chain around his neck, I noticed something I hadn’t before. Barely visible in the shadows, there was a simple ring of gold. A wedding band.
“Do you know blood carries memories?” he said coldly. “One drop, and I will discover every secret you hide. Would you rather have that? I can do it right now; this very moment. This is your last chance. Tell me where Éva is.”
Was it a trick? Apa had never mentioned such a power.
I opened my mouth to retort, but a new flash of fear burst through my body. What if it was truth? If I allowed this beast to open my veins, he wouldn’t only see Éva, but also Erik and Anette. And unlike my cousin, they were still within Austria-Hungary. What would he do to them?
I hurriedly blinked tears away. I refused to allow the demon the satisfaction of seeing me cry.
“God, forgive me,” I whispered. “England. She’s in England.”
The Lidérc stared into my eyes. “Where?”
“What does it matter? You’ll never reach her. You cannot leave the country!”
“I said, where?”
“Liverpool.”
“More,” he said desperately. “Tell me exactly where she is!”
“Why?”
“Just tell me!”
“You’ll never have her! She will never accept you!” I shouted. “You murdered her mother!”
The demon slapped me. Stars exploded across my vision.
“You will not pin that blame upon me a moment longer!” he snapped, and I thought I heard a sob at the edge of his words. “I do not deny I have done awful things. Things I do not need you or anyone else to chastise me for! I do that well enough to myself, every night! But give me my daughter! Give me some light!”
My lip quivered, and finally, my tears broke free.
“My pocket,” I whispered. “The letter…”
He regarded me for a moment, then lowered his hand to my skirt and withdrew the paper. He shook it open, and peered at the address in the top corner. I wondered how he was even able to read it in the gloom. But, of course, he was a dark one. He could see by night as clearly as I could by day.
“Very well,” he muttered. “I shall write to her. I know you told her I was dead. Now I will tell her the truth, for the first time in her entire life.”
I suddenly remembered I still had the birch twigs. I stabbed them at his face.
He yelled in pain and fell away. I staggered to my feet, sprinted blindly, hands out to feel my way. Mist surrounded me in a heaving wall. I couldn’t find a direction… Then I saw the glow of Hattyúpatak, turned towards it, opened my mouth to scream.
My ankles locked together. I crashed down, felt leaves and wet earth against my cheek. I tried to crawl, but the Lidérc landed on top of me and spun me onto my back. A red mark cut his alabaster chin, where the birch had touched him. His eyes burned with anger.
I glared at him, drawing up all my father’s strength.
“I gave you what you wanted,” I spat. “Go on, then. Make it quick. At least I’ll see my family in Heaven, you beast! That is one release you’ll never know!”
He snatched a breath, as though my words had wounded deeper than any stake I might have driven through his ribs. But, just as quickly, the fury returned, and a fierce intelligence which chilled me to the bone.
“I had found it in myself to spare you tonight,” he said, “until now.”
He held both wrists above my head with one hand, and grasped my chin with the other.
“You wish for Heaven? I will not give it to you. Nem, you will learn all the truths you lie about. I curse you with eternal truth. I curse all your sons and daughters. No step they take shall be safe. God will not save you, Farkas, for the angel of death is upon you!”
Before I could react, he wrenched my head to the side, tore open my collar, and bit into the side of my neck.
I panicked, tried to throw him off, but all my limbs became limp. He was going to drink from me, kill me…
Then I froze. There was fire in my blood. My arm was beside my face, and as I watched, the veins turned dark. Tiredness dug its claws into me. I fought against it. No, I mustn’t give in. I mustn’t die…
But I was not dying. I recalled what Éva had written, so long ago. What had happened to her in this very forest.
The sight which I saw, of blackness running through my veins…
The Lidérc drew back, and looked straight into my face. The wedding ring hung between us.
“Now you know how it feels.”
The shadows descended, my eyes closed, and the world faded away.
I surveyed it all amid a peculiar personal stillness. I had to keep myself busy. I felt no better than when I did something for the benefit of the village. I turned my attention wherever it was needed, and placed my focus upon Erik and Anette’s wedding. The date had been set for September: the final blaze of joy before autumn wheeled itself in.
While they were back in Győrtelek, I minded the fields from dusk until dawn, preparing for harvest. The time was growing closer now, and crows descended like a plague, trying to pick off whatever they could. I waved a stick and threw stones at them when the scarecrow ceased to be effective.
I decided, I hated crows just as much as bats. The way they moved reminded me too much of the dark ones. And they were smart. Too smart.
Finally, the wedding day arrived. I stood in the front pew as Anette’s father walked her down the aisle. My heart swelled to look upon her and Erik. I had never seen my little brother so happy. When he gazed into her eyes, it was almost as though a part of his own soul stared back.
Was that what it had been like when our parents had exchanged their vows? Or when Mirriam had turned to her own husband?
I shook my head to empty it of the thought. But it was too late. It only reminded me, too well, that the rest of my family was not beside me.
I slipped my hand into my pocket, where I had placed Éva’s latest letter. I had sent her the Hungarian earth back in February, and it seemed to be working. But it didn’t settle my heart. I hated being so far from her, feeling so helpless…
Stop it, I thought firmly. I couldn’t allow myself to become melancholy, not today.
So I smiled as Erik slid a second ring onto his bride’s finger, and József wrapped his stole around their hands.
“What God has joined together, let no man put asunder.”
“No man, or less,” I whispered.
Erik lifted the veil from Anette’s face and kissed her.
Outside the church, children threw white petals into the air. Anette turned her back and tossed her sunflower bouquet. The young girls scrambled to catch it, and it fell into Flóra’s arms. She jumped on the spot like a March hare, squealing with excitement.
We sat down to a feast in the square. Every household dragged out their tables to create a single long one. Flowers lay among the dishes and filled their air with fragrance. Overhead, the sky turned mellow, as though it had been brushed by honey.
I regarded the scene in silence. One perfect moment. I could almost imagine it existing inside a bubble, cut off from the rest of the world. Nothing dark could penetrate such happiness. No memory of bloodstained grass and burning birch. We had harnessed a little piece of Heaven today. God and the angels and my dear parents were looking down on us. I wouldn’t let that go.
I lifted my cup. Erik caught my eye and smiled.
“A toast to the bride and groom,” I said. “Mr and Mrs Farkas!”
“Farkas úr és asszony!” everyone repeated.
I looked straight at my brother, and raised my wine again.
“Isten áldd meg a magyart!”
At that, the cheer became even louder, and we all drank at the same time.
We ate and danced until the sun began to set, then Erik and Anette climbed aboard the wagonette. Their luggage was already packed, and the youngsters had spent the previous day decorating the frame with every scrap of white muslin they could find.
József blessed the couple one final time. I approached on the other side, and took of Erik’s hand.
“Mind how you go,” I said. “Don’t forget to write. Promise.”
“I will,” Erik replied. “But I want you to promise me that you’ll stop worrying.”
I sighed. As he spoke, I felt Éva’s letter, as though it had turned to stone in my pocket. A part of me wanted to tell him; to reveal what she had confided, and use it to remind him of how dangerous the dark ones were. But this was far from the place and time. I would not take this day from him.
“How long will you stay in Győrtelek?” I asked.
“Long enough to appease the new in-laws,” Erik smirked, tossing his head towards a second wagon bearing Anette’s parents. “Buda-Pesth awaits. And you’re always welcome there, Zíta. As soon as we’re settled, I’ll send you the address. Come for Christmas, at least. Please.”
I nodded. “I will.”
That made me feel a little better. Christmas was only three months away. It mollified my fears somewhat, to count down the days until I would see my family again.
I bit the inside of my cheek so I wouldn’t cry, then stood back as the ponies moved off. They travelled west, into the sun, along the only road connecting Hattyúpatak to the rest of Austria-Hungary. The light stung my eyes, but I didn’t turn away. I wanted to remember this sweet moment forever.
“How are you, Zíta?” József asked quietly.
I sniffed back my tears. “I’ll be fine.”
“I know this has been a difficult day for you. I could see it in your face.”
“Was it so obvious?”
“Nem, not constantly. But on occasion, I noticed a hint of sadness. Don’t be ashamed.”
“How can I not be? I should be happy. Unconditionally happy.”
“And so, you are. That does not diminish anything else you feel,” József replied. “I know I never knew your parents, but I wish for your sake they could have been with you both in body today, not only in spirit. Éva, too. Have you heard from her?”
I nodded.
“How does she?”
“She’s well.”
It wasn’t a lie. Éva had told me her condition appeared to be under control, even though the vampire was still trying to tempt her. But she was steadfast. I knew that with all my heart. And she herself was engaged to be married now, to the young man she had met at the Christmas party. Yes, I had been correct. Life was providing for her in a way I never could have.
And yet, still, she was not relieved of the malady. No matter how vehemently I prayed, or how much goodness she held in her soul, my sweet cousin was no closer to deliverance.
What more could I do? Had my dear Apa been wrong? Were all dark ones made this way, with no rhyme or reason, no chance for liberation? Surely not. Wicked tigers were doomed, but God would save the innocent lambs. I had to believe that.
I helped clear the tables away and returned to the empty house. It was horribly quiet after having Erik and Anette with me for the previous week.
Realisation struck me. This truly was the end now. Until today, despite all Erik had said about going to Buda-Pesth, this place had still been his home. No longer. As his heartstrings were tied, the cords binding him to Hattyúpatak were cut.
Tears finally overcame me. Why was I not joyous? I should be. God, I should be so glad for Erik. But I could only see Éva. I imagined her beautiful blue eyes transforming as black as pitch, her teeth long and lethal, face streaked with blood.
The sobs shook my entire body, and sapped my energy until time lost its meaning. I felt no inclination to move, to even breathe, but force of habit made me continue.
The light moved, crept across the window and spread its glow upon the floor. Slowly, it faded into a blaze of red and gold. Wind whistled down the chimney and disturbed the ashes. They blew into the room, settling over my hands like snow.
After bracing myself, as though I were about to run for miles rather than walk three feet, I dragged myself to the hearth to relight the fire. I stuffed birch bark under the kindling and struck a match. As it caught, I stepped outside to see to the chickens. They clucked in indignation as I rounded them into the henhouse.
Night enveloped me. When I breathed, my breath misted in the air. I wouldn’t be surprised if I awoke tomorrow to the first frost of the year. Overhead, a full moon bore down on the village.
Then, suddenly, I heard a shriek. I spun around. It was coming from Flóra’s house.
She screamed again, louder this time. Other neighbours stumbled out in alarm. The sound gave me new energy, and I ran to her door.
“Flóra?” I called.
“Zíta!” she yelled. “Oh, God! Zíta, help me!”
I barged inside, straight to her bedroom. She was as white as a sheet; had pressed herself against the wall in fright. When she saw me, she threw herself at me with such vigour, both of us tumbled against the fireplace.
A crowd of concerned faces appeared in the doorway, József at the helm.
I took Flóra’s face in my hands.
“Look at me,” I said. “What happened? Did you have a nightmare?”
“Nem!” she cried. “Zíta, there was something in here! I swear! It was holding me down!”
“Something?” I repeated.
My eyes darted around the room. All the windows were locked. But the fire was burned out, and streaks of ash covered the flagstones.
A horrid suspicion took root in my gut. I rolled up the sleeves of Flóra’s nightdress, and froze. Just below her left elbow was a thin gash. The neighbours saw it, too, and gasped in horror.
“No!”
“Not again!”
“Did it come down the chimney? Oh, God! Where is it?”
At once, steely resolve pushed my gloominess away. I might have been a humble woman, but this was what I was made for.
“Everyone, keep calm! Just give me a moment!” I snapped.
I tore a strip off the hem of my skirt and wrapped it around Flóra’s wound. She fell against me, weeping and trembling like a terrified child. I hoisted her into my arms as though she weighed nothing, and set her in a chair in the main room.
“You’re going to be fine,” I said. “Tell me, what did you see?”
“Just a figure. It was too dark. I couldn’t make out details.”
My heart sank, but I refused to let it faze me. Instead, I beckoned one of the other women to sit with Flóra, and hurried outside. I grabbed József by the elbows as I passed him.
“We need to secure the village,” I said. “There’s one here.”
His eyes widened. “You’re certain?”
“Are we really going to have this discussion again?” I hissed, then raised my voice so all could hear. “We can prepare better tomorrow, in the daylight, but take every piece of birch wood in your stores and burn it through the night. When morning comes, paint every door with a crucifix.”
“What type is it?” József asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Probably another Izcacus, but just do everything, to be safe. Come, make haste!”
At once, all my neighbours sprang into action. I felt their fear, but their movements were akin to an army assembling before battle. Horrible as it was, we were no strangers to this. Men ran to the woodpiles and fetched armfuls of birch. Women picked out twigs and laid them end to end around houses. The woodcutters hurried to the nearest trees and hacked off branches. Torches were lit and thrust into the soil in a giant flaming circle.
Now it was four times in twenty years. How much longer were we to endure these Hellish attacks?
It didn’t matter. I would always be here to help defend us.
“Will it get through all this?” József asked nervously.
I shook my head. “I see no reason why. And it likely won’t come near us anyway, now it has… fed.”
Nausea rolled in my stomach. I thought of poor, weak little Flóra. I could still hear her sobbing.
“We just need to endure this one night,” I said. “We’ve done this before. We can do it again.”
József trembled. He hadn’t been here during the Final Purge. Indeed, when he arrived to replace my Apa as priest, he had taken the true history of Hattyúpatak as fancy, like we were all children crying about a shadow. But then, last year, after Éva was attacked and another girl killed outright, he slowly began listening to me. He was one of us now, however begrudgingly it had come about.
“How could this happen?” he breathed. “After such a glorious day?”
I bit my lip. I wasn’t sure if I was happy that Erik and Anette were gone. I just prayed they would be safe in Győrtelek.
“Why is it that the creatures always seem to come here?” József asked. “What has this community done to invite such evil?”
“Nothing,” I replied resolutely. “We are isolated. More so than others in the area. And frankly, I believe it’s also because we are so good. It draws them to us, like a moth to the flame.”
I tried to take comfort from the strength of my own tone, but that power was for all around me, not myself. Beneath an exterior of steel, I was as frightened as them, and so terribly tired. The ponderings of the dark ones had worn me down, like a stone the ocean had beaten against – not just over the past six months, but year after year. This onslaught was all I had ever known. Always fight, always stand tall, always be resolute in the face of eternal night. I was the daughter of Alexander Farkas: the man who delivered the entire country.
And yet I was still only a woman, who breathed the same air as any human. To be a living sword and shield was ingrained in my bones, but what of the heart caged behind that indomitable core? For once – just once – I wanted to lower my blade.
I returned to my house. The logs in the grate had taken now, and I added more: thick ones, to burn through the night. The glow flickered across the floor. I snatched twigs from the bottom of the woodpile, tucked some into my waistband, and lined the rest around the building in a giant circle. I had done the same for the Final Purge, so long ago.
I turned my eyes beyond the village border, into the darkness. What beast lay out there this time? Another Izcacus, I was sure – the same kind of vampire which had haunted us last autumn. Each type was slightly different, with varying weaknesses; Apa had told me that. But until I knew more, I couldn’t be sure what we needed to do. The birch would do nothing against an Izcacus, but it would deter and harm a Lidérc.
No, it wouldn’t be a Lidérc. There was only one of those left. The chances were far too low.
I headed through the streets to check on everyone. Several had returned home, but lights still burned in the windows. Men kept watch with rifles on their arms. Others had retreated into the church with József. As I drew close, I heard him leading them in prayer. Psalm 23:4.
“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me…”
I wandered closer, to join them, but as I entered the graveyard, I paused. I couldn’t go in there yet, and let them see me trembling. I had to have strength, and in times such as this, there was only one place I might find it.
I walked to Apa’s headstone and knelt before it. The grass was damp and freezing, but I scarcely felt it. I just lowered my head, clasped my hands, and wept.
“Help us,” I whispered. “Protect us, and Erik and Anette, and Éva. God, Apa, I’m so afraid!”
My shoulders shook – whether from cold, sobs or fear, I couldn’t say. I recalled standing in the crowd, watching my blessed father forcing the demons across the border. Éva, only four years old, clung to my arm in horror. I heard her little voice, and my own vicious response.
“But… they are people!”
“They are nothing of the sort! Never think otherwise!”
A tear rolled off the end of my nose. I brushed it away and opened my eyes.
I spotted something in the distance. I squinted, trying to make it out. A light, beyond the reaches of the torches: a single flickering candle. Had someone gone out there, looking for the creature? One of the woodcutters?
I staggered to my feet and drew in a breath, to call to whoever it was. But as soon as I did, the cry died on my tongue. One foot moved in front of the other, as though drawn by invisible marionette strings. The light pulsed pure gold. It was so beautiful… I couldn’t look away. I didn’t want to.
I stepped past the torches, over the birch twigs which had been laid around the church. Frosty grass crunched under my shoes. A mist started to come down, and hid the ground from view. I knew I should turn around, shout, close my eyes. But my body was not my own anymore.
Come closer, the light seemed to whisper in my mind. Closer still…
The hymn faded. I extended a hand through the thickening mist. I wanted to touch the light, to feel its warmth against my skin.
Then I paused. Another hand was already there, beneath it. The fingernails were long, black. Like a bird’s talons.
Panic exploded through my body. At once, the spell was broken. I spun around and sprinted back towards the village, but something clamped across my mouth. An arm wrapped around my middle. I gasped at the touch. It was so cold…
Two wings appeared in my periphery: skeletal, leathery, blacker than night. They bore me into the air. Hattyúpatak became tiny below me: a circle of firelight in never-ending darkness. I struggled with all my might, but couldn’t get free.
The demon flew into the forest and threw me down. I stumbled on fallen branches, then grabbed one and held it out like a spear. I could hardly see. The only glow came from the moon. Trees leered from the shadows like a million bars. There was no birch, only beeches and oaks, twisting their branches against the sky. Nature had formed a cage, and trapped me.
“Where are you?” I snarled, whipping the branch in all directions. “Where are you, devil?”
“Right here.”
My hair stood on end. That voice…
My eyes slowly adjusted, and then I saw the vampire, straight ahead of me. The wings were still spread behind him, held high and wide. I looked upon a face so pale, so faultless, it might have been carved from marble.
“You,” I breathed.
“You,” the Lidérc replied.
At once, I drew the birch twigs from my belt, and held them in my other hand. He didn’t move, but I could feel his eyes on me, as keen and dangerous as a tiger. I remembered staring into them, seeing that mouth painted with blood – Apa’s blood, Mirriam’s blood.
“Flóra,” I said. “That was you, wasn’t it?”
“A necessary evil. I would not expect you to understand. You never have.”
“There is nothing to understand! What are you doing here?”
The creature took a step closer. I immediately moved back, to keep the distance. I knew this thing could kill me before I even drew breath to scream, but still, I didn’t lower the branch. It was the only weapon I had.
I risked a glance in the direction of the village. So far away, muted by the mist, but I had to get there. I needed to escape.
“Do not bother calling for help,” said the Lidérc, as though he had read my mind. “They will not hear you from here. And I wish only to speak with you tonight, Zíta Farkas. There is no reason to involve anyone else.”
I struggled to breathe. His voice was cool, collected, with the same fine elocution of Buda-Pesth which Mirriam had used. But I couldn’t read his tone, and that terrified me.
Next month, sixteen years would have passed since the Final Purge, and he hadn’t aged a day. Still young: mid-twenties, unchanged save for his clothes. I wondered how he had come by them. Stolen? Ripped from the body of another innocent he had mutilated?
I had seen him in the photograph which Mirriam had hung on the wall in memory of him. She hadn’t known the truth of what he became. I was glad she never did. Not until the very end.
“Do you remember what I said to you?” the demon asked. “It is impossible to outrun a Lidérc. It has been a long time, but here I am. Such a long time for me to think on you, and all you took from me.”
“I took nothing from you,” I snapped. “You killed her!”
For the first time, I saw a flash of fury in his face.
A force as strong as a gale suddenly lifted me off the ground. My back hit a tree, but I didn’t fall. I hung there like a puppet, pinned in place by invisible ropes. Then the vampire looked at the branch, and at once, it was wrenched from my grasp. I swept the twigs at him, but his eyes fleeted to my wrist, and it too was restrained.
“Her blood is on your hands,” he snarled. “You drove me away from my family. You told lies, refused to listen. I never wanted this. I never asked to be this thing. I was like you, once.”
“You are nothing like me!”
“More lies. It is all you know: to lie! We were all human, every single one of us. We had livelihoods, homes, families. It just takes one moment, when you think you are alone; believe yourself safe. And then some stranger brings darkness upon you forever, without consent or care. But what would you care? You and your damned father were too concerned with murdering us. Pushing me away from the two people I love the most!”
He drew so close, I felt his icy breath on my cheek.
“Don’t you dare say a word against my father,” I spat.
“Why? He was a killer.”
“So are you! So were all of you!”
“And because he called on the name of God, that excused him? That gains him pity and adoration, when he had a choice about slaughtering us like pigs? What choice did we have, Farkas? None. Only necessity.”
“Necessity because you are evil!” I argued. “You are the spawn of Hell! You might have escaped my father, but you’ll never escape your own sin!”
The creature snatched my throat.
“Sin that you imposed upon me,” he growled. “I was a good man. I am a good man.”
“You are no man.”
“You have no right to tell me what I am. Now, you will listen. I did not intend to beckon you tonight. Or your brother, though I cannot seem to smell him anywhere. I intended to reach someone else, who is also missing. But I will give you a choice: one which you never gave me. I give you the opportunity to do the honourable thing, and show me you have changed.”
I gritted my teeth. “What choice is it?”
“Answer a simple question,” said the Lidérc. “Where is my daughter?”
Éva’s face flashed before me. Éva, with her angelic blue eyes…
I shook my head. “Somewhere you will never reach her, demon.”
The pressure intensified. I yelped in pain. It felt as though he was turning my chest inside-out...
“You kept me from her throughout her entire life,” he hissed. “You burned birch constantly, so I could not approach. She is the one thing I have left in the world!”
“And you only have yourself to blame for that!”
His fingers choked me. Still, I refused to back down, and I spat into his face.
His eyes narrowed. Then, on a chain around his neck, I noticed something I hadn’t before. Barely visible in the shadows, there was a simple ring of gold. A wedding band.
“Do you know blood carries memories?” he said coldly. “One drop, and I will discover every secret you hide. Would you rather have that? I can do it right now; this very moment. This is your last chance. Tell me where Éva is.”
Was it a trick? Apa had never mentioned such a power.
I opened my mouth to retort, but a new flash of fear burst through my body. What if it was truth? If I allowed this beast to open my veins, he wouldn’t only see Éva, but also Erik and Anette. And unlike my cousin, they were still within Austria-Hungary. What would he do to them?
I hurriedly blinked tears away. I refused to allow the demon the satisfaction of seeing me cry.
“God, forgive me,” I whispered. “England. She’s in England.”
The Lidérc stared into my eyes. “Where?”
“What does it matter? You’ll never reach her. You cannot leave the country!”
“I said, where?”
“Liverpool.”
“More,” he said desperately. “Tell me exactly where she is!”
“Why?”
“Just tell me!”
“You’ll never have her! She will never accept you!” I shouted. “You murdered her mother!”
The demon slapped me. Stars exploded across my vision.
“You will not pin that blame upon me a moment longer!” he snapped, and I thought I heard a sob at the edge of his words. “I do not deny I have done awful things. Things I do not need you or anyone else to chastise me for! I do that well enough to myself, every night! But give me my daughter! Give me some light!”
My lip quivered, and finally, my tears broke free.
“My pocket,” I whispered. “The letter…”
He regarded me for a moment, then lowered his hand to my skirt and withdrew the paper. He shook it open, and peered at the address in the top corner. I wondered how he was even able to read it in the gloom. But, of course, he was a dark one. He could see by night as clearly as I could by day.
“Very well,” he muttered. “I shall write to her. I know you told her I was dead. Now I will tell her the truth, for the first time in her entire life.”
I suddenly remembered I still had the birch twigs. I stabbed them at his face.
He yelled in pain and fell away. I staggered to my feet, sprinted blindly, hands out to feel my way. Mist surrounded me in a heaving wall. I couldn’t find a direction… Then I saw the glow of Hattyúpatak, turned towards it, opened my mouth to scream.
My ankles locked together. I crashed down, felt leaves and wet earth against my cheek. I tried to crawl, but the Lidérc landed on top of me and spun me onto my back. A red mark cut his alabaster chin, where the birch had touched him. His eyes burned with anger.
I glared at him, drawing up all my father’s strength.
“I gave you what you wanted,” I spat. “Go on, then. Make it quick. At least I’ll see my family in Heaven, you beast! That is one release you’ll never know!”
He snatched a breath, as though my words had wounded deeper than any stake I might have driven through his ribs. But, just as quickly, the fury returned, and a fierce intelligence which chilled me to the bone.
“I had found it in myself to spare you tonight,” he said, “until now.”
He held both wrists above my head with one hand, and grasped my chin with the other.
“You wish for Heaven? I will not give it to you. Nem, you will learn all the truths you lie about. I curse you with eternal truth. I curse all your sons and daughters. No step they take shall be safe. God will not save you, Farkas, for the angel of death is upon you!”
Before I could react, he wrenched my head to the side, tore open my collar, and bit into the side of my neck.
I panicked, tried to throw him off, but all my limbs became limp. He was going to drink from me, kill me…
Then I froze. There was fire in my blood. My arm was beside my face, and as I watched, the veins turned dark. Tiredness dug its claws into me. I fought against it. No, I mustn’t give in. I mustn’t die…
But I was not dying. I recalled what Éva had written, so long ago. What had happened to her in this very forest.
The sight which I saw, of blackness running through my veins…
The Lidérc drew back, and looked straight into my face. The wedding ring hung between us.
“Now you know how it feels.”
The shadows descended, my eyes closed, and the world faded away.
*
The first thing I felt was my heartbeat. It reached me slowly, from somewhere far away. I tried to move closer, to assign the sound to my own body, and then the rest of my person took form. Lungs pumping like bellows; arms, legs…
I opened my eyes, and immediately recoiled. Why was it so bright?
I sat bolt upright, tried to run, and fell off something. A door swung open and hands appeared under my arms.
“Zíta, are you alright? Come, let me help you.”
“József?” I mumbled.
“Yes, it’s me. Take hold of my shoulders.”
I did as he said, and he lifted me back up. I realised the thing I had awoken on was a bed, and there wasn’t a single tree in sight. Muted sunlight peeked around the edges of a curtain over the window. My window. I was home.
I touched my neck, and found a bandage. I wrenched a finger under it. To my horror, there was a wound there, directly over my vein. In the same place Éva’s had been.
The creature, bent over me… The black liquid, flowing beneath my skin like ink… burning…
“Nem…” I breathed. “Nem, nem, nem!”
“Zíta, calm down,” said József. “You’re fine.”
I stared at him; opened my mouth, closed it again. What could I say? What would he do if I told him?
“Stay there,” he said. “I’ll fetch you some water. You need to drink.”
I sat frozen, as though my body had turned to stone. Drink…
József disappeared, then returned with a cup. There was no taste, no inclination in my mind. I was scarcely aware of time. I just heard my own heart slamming in my ears; my laboured breaths. And the sun. God, it was so strong, so bright!
I closed my eyes, determined not to cry. He couldn’t know. Nobody could know. Not me, the protector, the daughter of the saint, the one who was never broken.
“What day is it?” I whispered.
“Tuesday,” József replied. “We found you in the woods last night. You… Well, can you recall anything?”
I nodded. “The vampire.”
“It drank from you,” József said. “It’s like what happened with Éva. But you’ll be alright. It didn’t take as much blood as it did from her. The beast was likely still full from poor Flóra, bless her soul.”
I held a hand to my mouth, worried I would vomit.
“How is Flóra?”
“Shaken and weak, but fine. We have things under control, Zíta. Don’t worry. Everyone has painted crucifixes on the doors, and the woodcutters are fetching more birch as we speak. Just tell me, did you see anything? Horrible as it may be to remember, anything which might identify what type it is?”
I closed my eyes, to shut out the sun, and my own tears.
“Lidérc,” I breathed. “Put birch everywhere. Burn it. Carry it. Encircle every building.”
“Lidérc? Are those not the ones which your father faced?”
“Yes. But one got away. You know that.”
“It’s come back?”
“I don’t think it will stay. It knows this is no place to linger, being who we are.”
I listened hard to my own words as I spoke them. Not him, but it. I tried to claw some kind of respite by referring to the demon in such a manner, but it did little to settle me. For years, he had been the last one, the only one.
No longer. He had bitten me. And now, because of it, I was doomed.
“Please leave me for a while,” I breathed.
József squeezed my hand in comfort. “Alright. I’ll inform the others. We must be prepared. We won’t… have another Final Purge to reckon with, will we?”
I shook my head. Realising I was in no mood to talk further, József let himself out.
I felt the bandage again. The flesh was warm and tender. When I looked at my hands, they were normal; belied no indication of what had happened. I imagined that black taint just below the surface, settling into my muscles, running in my blood. I would never remove it. The stain was within me, working towards my soul. The touch of Satan himself.
Something broke, like a rope which had held too much weight. I had always been the strong one. Now, I had not only dropped my sword, it had been torn from my grasp and driven through my own heart.
And Éva… I had condemned her. I pictured her sitting at her writing desk, and opening the note containing all the evil the demon would send her.
I sat surrounded by an empty, poisoned husk in the shape of the body I’d always known. Such corruption, such darkness! I felt it as though I had swallowed acid. This was the end of everything, and what punishment awaited me! To become like that monster: the same who had murdered my cousin and father, who had now denied me entry to the Kingdom of God! To walk forever in purgatory; never ageing, never dying, never able to know life or love again.
I wanted to weep. knew I should, but I didn’t have the energy. Even Hell would likely have been better than endless existence. And I would walk down that lonely road with a yoke across my shoulders: the burdens of those I had failed. The sun would never touch me again. All light would end, and my entire world would be in shadow.
I felt nothing. All was numb inside. It always would be. Zíta Farkas: the shield of Hattyúpatak. Shattered at last.
I rose to my feet, and wandered into the main room. My hand swept the smooth tabletop. I thought of my parents sitting around it with Erik and myself; Mirriam bouncing Éva on her lap as I told stories of tree spirits and the Magyar falcon. I surveyed the ghosts of memory, took them into myself, and allowed them to mingle with the fabric of my soul.
My mind was made up. I was able to endure many things, but not this level of loss. Not becoming one of the creatures which had destroyed everything I held dear. Now, thanks to the mark on my neck, I was already damned. What more could God do which I had not brought upon myself? I had told that demon where he could find Éva…
I entered her old bedroom, picked through the boxes and tools, until I found a coil of rope. I held it in both hands, and surveyed it with such cool lucidity that, a day ago, I might have terrified myself. But not now.
A day ago. Was it truly only yesterday that I had stood in the church and watched Erik marry the girl of his dreams?
I bit my lip. I would never see him again, or Anette, or Éva. I wouldn’t burden them with the knowledge now branded into my blood.
I cast a last glance about my home, then headed outside. The sun dazzled me, burned to the very back of my skull. I turned away from it and shielded my face with one hand. I kept close to the wall, so nobody would spot me. Hidden from sight, I looked at my neighbours, the whitewashed crucifixes upon every house, the circles of birch wood, the fine streaks of cloud drifting through the sky like fingers. I almost felt them closing around my heart.
I turned my eyes on the graveyard, where Apa lay. Then I wiped my tears away and walked in the direction of the forest. I looped the end of the rope back on itself, and tied it into a noose.
“Holy Mary, Mother of God,” I whispered, “pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen.”
I opened my eyes, and immediately recoiled. Why was it so bright?
I sat bolt upright, tried to run, and fell off something. A door swung open and hands appeared under my arms.
“Zíta, are you alright? Come, let me help you.”
“József?” I mumbled.
“Yes, it’s me. Take hold of my shoulders.”
I did as he said, and he lifted me back up. I realised the thing I had awoken on was a bed, and there wasn’t a single tree in sight. Muted sunlight peeked around the edges of a curtain over the window. My window. I was home.
I touched my neck, and found a bandage. I wrenched a finger under it. To my horror, there was a wound there, directly over my vein. In the same place Éva’s had been.
The creature, bent over me… The black liquid, flowing beneath my skin like ink… burning…
“Nem…” I breathed. “Nem, nem, nem!”
“Zíta, calm down,” said József. “You’re fine.”
I stared at him; opened my mouth, closed it again. What could I say? What would he do if I told him?
“Stay there,” he said. “I’ll fetch you some water. You need to drink.”
I sat frozen, as though my body had turned to stone. Drink…
József disappeared, then returned with a cup. There was no taste, no inclination in my mind. I was scarcely aware of time. I just heard my own heart slamming in my ears; my laboured breaths. And the sun. God, it was so strong, so bright!
I closed my eyes, determined not to cry. He couldn’t know. Nobody could know. Not me, the protector, the daughter of the saint, the one who was never broken.
“What day is it?” I whispered.
“Tuesday,” József replied. “We found you in the woods last night. You… Well, can you recall anything?”
I nodded. “The vampire.”
“It drank from you,” József said. “It’s like what happened with Éva. But you’ll be alright. It didn’t take as much blood as it did from her. The beast was likely still full from poor Flóra, bless her soul.”
I held a hand to my mouth, worried I would vomit.
“How is Flóra?”
“Shaken and weak, but fine. We have things under control, Zíta. Don’t worry. Everyone has painted crucifixes on the doors, and the woodcutters are fetching more birch as we speak. Just tell me, did you see anything? Horrible as it may be to remember, anything which might identify what type it is?”
I closed my eyes, to shut out the sun, and my own tears.
“Lidérc,” I breathed. “Put birch everywhere. Burn it. Carry it. Encircle every building.”
“Lidérc? Are those not the ones which your father faced?”
“Yes. But one got away. You know that.”
“It’s come back?”
“I don’t think it will stay. It knows this is no place to linger, being who we are.”
I listened hard to my own words as I spoke them. Not him, but it. I tried to claw some kind of respite by referring to the demon in such a manner, but it did little to settle me. For years, he had been the last one, the only one.
No longer. He had bitten me. And now, because of it, I was doomed.
“Please leave me for a while,” I breathed.
József squeezed my hand in comfort. “Alright. I’ll inform the others. We must be prepared. We won’t… have another Final Purge to reckon with, will we?”
I shook my head. Realising I was in no mood to talk further, József let himself out.
I felt the bandage again. The flesh was warm and tender. When I looked at my hands, they were normal; belied no indication of what had happened. I imagined that black taint just below the surface, settling into my muscles, running in my blood. I would never remove it. The stain was within me, working towards my soul. The touch of Satan himself.
Something broke, like a rope which had held too much weight. I had always been the strong one. Now, I had not only dropped my sword, it had been torn from my grasp and driven through my own heart.
And Éva… I had condemned her. I pictured her sitting at her writing desk, and opening the note containing all the evil the demon would send her.
I sat surrounded by an empty, poisoned husk in the shape of the body I’d always known. Such corruption, such darkness! I felt it as though I had swallowed acid. This was the end of everything, and what punishment awaited me! To become like that monster: the same who had murdered my cousin and father, who had now denied me entry to the Kingdom of God! To walk forever in purgatory; never ageing, never dying, never able to know life or love again.
I wanted to weep. knew I should, but I didn’t have the energy. Even Hell would likely have been better than endless existence. And I would walk down that lonely road with a yoke across my shoulders: the burdens of those I had failed. The sun would never touch me again. All light would end, and my entire world would be in shadow.
I felt nothing. All was numb inside. It always would be. Zíta Farkas: the shield of Hattyúpatak. Shattered at last.
I rose to my feet, and wandered into the main room. My hand swept the smooth tabletop. I thought of my parents sitting around it with Erik and myself; Mirriam bouncing Éva on her lap as I told stories of tree spirits and the Magyar falcon. I surveyed the ghosts of memory, took them into myself, and allowed them to mingle with the fabric of my soul.
My mind was made up. I was able to endure many things, but not this level of loss. Not becoming one of the creatures which had destroyed everything I held dear. Now, thanks to the mark on my neck, I was already damned. What more could God do which I had not brought upon myself? I had told that demon where he could find Éva…
I entered her old bedroom, picked through the boxes and tools, until I found a coil of rope. I held it in both hands, and surveyed it with such cool lucidity that, a day ago, I might have terrified myself. But not now.
A day ago. Was it truly only yesterday that I had stood in the church and watched Erik marry the girl of his dreams?
I bit my lip. I would never see him again, or Anette, or Éva. I wouldn’t burden them with the knowledge now branded into my blood.
I cast a last glance about my home, then headed outside. The sun dazzled me, burned to the very back of my skull. I turned away from it and shielded my face with one hand. I kept close to the wall, so nobody would spot me. Hidden from sight, I looked at my neighbours, the whitewashed crucifixes upon every house, the circles of birch wood, the fine streaks of cloud drifting through the sky like fingers. I almost felt them closing around my heart.
I turned my eyes on the graveyard, where Apa lay. Then I wiped my tears away and walked in the direction of the forest. I looped the end of the rope back on itself, and tied it into a noose.
“Holy Mary, Mother of God,” I whispered, “pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen.”