Connects with: Gift of the Dark, The Stream of Life, Streets of London, Sepia and Silver, The Libelle Papers & Tragic Silence
The Unquiet Grave © August 2023 E. C. Hibbs
London, England
February 2019
When I came home, the suitcase was already in the hall. I stepped around it, tossed my keys into the bowl by the door, and called out.
“Emily?”
“I’ll be there in a minute!”
Something fell over. I could tell from the sound that it was in the bedroom. I rolled my eyes and walked upstairs. Emily staggered onto the landing, her face flushed with effort.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“I was trying to get this. It fell down the back of the bed,” she replied, brandishing a USB cable. “For my phone.”
“I’m sure you could have borrowed one off Bianka.”
Emily shrugged. “Well, I’ve got it now. I’ll be out of your way soon. I wanted to be gone before you got here. It’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding, after all.”
“Then it’s a good thing you’re not in your dress yet,” I smiled, and slid my hands around her waist. Her eyes fluttered closed as she kissed me. I gently pushed her back into the bedroom until her knees hit the mattress.
“Easy,” she chuckled. “Wait until tomorrow.”
I nuzzled her neck. “Is that bad luck, too?”
She eased me off and rubbed her nose against mine. But she didn’t stand up. She stayed sitting beside me; rested her head on my shoulder. I trailed my fingers through her hair. It was still a little damp from being washed, and the auburn strands shone like silk as I touched them.
I cupped her cheek so I could see her whole face. Twelve years had passed since the fateful moment we had been reunited in Budapest, and I could hardly believe how much, and yet how little, had changed. She still wore her hair the same way; still had the cute little mole under her chin and the intelligent brown eyes. But now, her diplomas hung on the wall behind us: first a BSc in Biology and, most recently, an MSc in Medicine from Imperial College London. When I looked at her, my first thought was no longer the girl I had rescued from a vampire’s clutches, but the woman I’d fallen in love with.
And this time tomorrow, we would be married. Time truly was a strange thing.
“Are you sure you’ve got everything?” I asked.
She nodded. “Yes, the dress and shoes are at Bee’s. She’s lending me a bracelet…”
“Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue?”
“That’s right. Why do you think I chose forget-me-nots for the bouquet?”
An idea suddenly came to me. “What do you have for your old?”
Emily shrugged. “Just another bracelet. Why?”
“Stay there.”
I disentangled myself from her, then pulled a chest from under the bed. It was filled with heirlooms from my side of the family: war medals, photographs, letters in English and Hungarian. I swept them all aside until I found a battered black box, and placed it into her hand.
She looked at me dubiously. “This isn’t another ring, is it?”
I shook my head and eased the lid back. A silver locket rested on a blood-red cushion, its surface crossed with filigree engravings.
“Michael!” Emily gasped.
I smiled. “How old’s your bracelet?”
“From the fifties.”
“I think this trumps it! It belonged to my great, great-grandmother, Éva Kálvin. She wore it on her wedding day too, in the 1890s. I’d like you to have it.”
Emily’s jaw dropped. “Are you sure?”
“Positive,” I replied.
She gave me a peck on the cheek, then carefully undid the clasp. There were no pictures inside, but behind the miniature glass panes were two locks of hair. One grey, the other jet black.
“Who are these from?” Emily asked.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “They’ve always been there.”
“Well, in that case, I won’t take them out,” she said, and closed the locket. “Thank you so much.”
I embraced her again, but before I could kiss her, a knock sounded on the door.
I groaned. “That will be Frank.”
Emily chuckled, then pulled me downstairs and let him in. He beamed when he saw her.
“Still here? Bianka’s wondering where you are!”
“I’m going now,” said Emily. “You’ve got the rings, haven’t you?”
Frank tapped his pocket in response. “Stop worrying. Go and have a nice evening with Bee.”
Emily gave him a small shove, then picked up the suitcase and loaded it into the back of the car. It was filled with everything we would need for our honeymoon; we were leaving the morning after the wedding. Emily peeled back the zip, wedged the locket’s box inside, then sat behind the wheel. She wound down the window so she could touch my face.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Mrs Jones,” I smiled, and pressed my lips to her palm.
Emily winked. “You know it. Frank, don’t let him do anything stupid!”
I let go of her. She turned the key and blew me a kiss. I watched her drive away, until she turned onto the main road and disappeared.
Frank clapped a hand on my shoulder. “How are you feeling?”
“Ask me tomorrow,” I muttered.
He laughed. “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. It’s not as hard as you think it will be.”
He went to his Beetle, and pulled out a small bag and his suit. A few years ago, I’d been best man at his wedding, and now he was returning the favour. He was older than me, almost forty, but the age difference didn’t matter. He and Bianka were our closest friends. We had been through Hell together, and saved each other. It was an event which made my memory squirm. I’d never been so afraid, so horrified by truth. And yet it marked the moment when everything changed.
Even though I’d seen it countless times, I couldn’t help glancing at the scar on Frank’s neck. He was a vampire too, but not like the one who had tried to kill us. That was all gone now. So long ago.
We headed inside, and I filled the kettle with water. As it boiled, Frank gazed at the family tree on the kitchen wall. It had started as a hobby when I was a teenager, but in the years since, I’d managed to trace it back to the mid-eighteenth century: two hundred and fifty years. After I realised I wouldn’t be able to find any more information, I’d had it written onto a piece of parchment and framed it.
“Are you going to do Em’s side next?” asked Frank.
“Maybe,” I said. “How difficult do you think it would be to discover the other lines? If you know what I mean?”
“Venom lines? Like, who was a turner to who?”
“Yeah.”
Frank puffed out his cheeks. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t hold hope of it being easy. Even the regular science is hard enough.”
“That’s too bad,” I scowled. “It would be interesting to figure it all out. I mean, I know my… great, great, great-grandfather was a vampire–”
“Don’t we all?” Frank muttered darkly.
I winced. In my head, I could still see his black eyes; hear his voice as I carried Emily away from him…
“But it’s still interesting,” I continued, trying to force the memory away. “I mean, I say that now, with distance, but it still makes me wonder. It’s crazy to think giving permission is the only difference, between you and the ones who can live forever.”
Frank was silent for a long moment.
“Do you think about it often?” he asked. “What happened, I mean?”
I shrugged. “Sometimes.”
“You know nothing can hurt us now, don’t you?”
“Of course. I’m not afraid. I’m just curious about how vampirism is still this big secret. I know it’s been around for a long time, but nobody speaks about it. Everyone sneaks around, right under our noses. How many people do you think are like me and Em? Human, but in on it?”
“Not many,” Frank admitted. “You’re certainly the first humans I’ve known, who are.”
His voice was clipped and careful, but I couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride as I heard it. Emily and I had received a baptism of fire into the dark reality which ran alongside the everyday, and despite all the pain we had endured, we hadn’t shied away. Even now, when I looked at Frank, I didn’t see a creature who needed to drink blood, or who could fly, or hear the sound of my heartbeat from across a room. He was just a man like me, a little sensitive to light, no more beastly than anyone with any condition on Earth.
He was a friend.
The kettle clicked. We exchanged a smile, then I turned around to make the coffee.
“Emily?”
“I’ll be there in a minute!”
Something fell over. I could tell from the sound that it was in the bedroom. I rolled my eyes and walked upstairs. Emily staggered onto the landing, her face flushed with effort.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“I was trying to get this. It fell down the back of the bed,” she replied, brandishing a USB cable. “For my phone.”
“I’m sure you could have borrowed one off Bianka.”
Emily shrugged. “Well, I’ve got it now. I’ll be out of your way soon. I wanted to be gone before you got here. It’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding, after all.”
“Then it’s a good thing you’re not in your dress yet,” I smiled, and slid my hands around her waist. Her eyes fluttered closed as she kissed me. I gently pushed her back into the bedroom until her knees hit the mattress.
“Easy,” she chuckled. “Wait until tomorrow.”
I nuzzled her neck. “Is that bad luck, too?”
She eased me off and rubbed her nose against mine. But she didn’t stand up. She stayed sitting beside me; rested her head on my shoulder. I trailed my fingers through her hair. It was still a little damp from being washed, and the auburn strands shone like silk as I touched them.
I cupped her cheek so I could see her whole face. Twelve years had passed since the fateful moment we had been reunited in Budapest, and I could hardly believe how much, and yet how little, had changed. She still wore her hair the same way; still had the cute little mole under her chin and the intelligent brown eyes. But now, her diplomas hung on the wall behind us: first a BSc in Biology and, most recently, an MSc in Medicine from Imperial College London. When I looked at her, my first thought was no longer the girl I had rescued from a vampire’s clutches, but the woman I’d fallen in love with.
And this time tomorrow, we would be married. Time truly was a strange thing.
“Are you sure you’ve got everything?” I asked.
She nodded. “Yes, the dress and shoes are at Bee’s. She’s lending me a bracelet…”
“Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue?”
“That’s right. Why do you think I chose forget-me-nots for the bouquet?”
An idea suddenly came to me. “What do you have for your old?”
Emily shrugged. “Just another bracelet. Why?”
“Stay there.”
I disentangled myself from her, then pulled a chest from under the bed. It was filled with heirlooms from my side of the family: war medals, photographs, letters in English and Hungarian. I swept them all aside until I found a battered black box, and placed it into her hand.
She looked at me dubiously. “This isn’t another ring, is it?”
I shook my head and eased the lid back. A silver locket rested on a blood-red cushion, its surface crossed with filigree engravings.
“Michael!” Emily gasped.
I smiled. “How old’s your bracelet?”
“From the fifties.”
“I think this trumps it! It belonged to my great, great-grandmother, Éva Kálvin. She wore it on her wedding day too, in the 1890s. I’d like you to have it.”
Emily’s jaw dropped. “Are you sure?”
“Positive,” I replied.
She gave me a peck on the cheek, then carefully undid the clasp. There were no pictures inside, but behind the miniature glass panes were two locks of hair. One grey, the other jet black.
“Who are these from?” Emily asked.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “They’ve always been there.”
“Well, in that case, I won’t take them out,” she said, and closed the locket. “Thank you so much.”
I embraced her again, but before I could kiss her, a knock sounded on the door.
I groaned. “That will be Frank.”
Emily chuckled, then pulled me downstairs and let him in. He beamed when he saw her.
“Still here? Bianka’s wondering where you are!”
“I’m going now,” said Emily. “You’ve got the rings, haven’t you?”
Frank tapped his pocket in response. “Stop worrying. Go and have a nice evening with Bee.”
Emily gave him a small shove, then picked up the suitcase and loaded it into the back of the car. It was filled with everything we would need for our honeymoon; we were leaving the morning after the wedding. Emily peeled back the zip, wedged the locket’s box inside, then sat behind the wheel. She wound down the window so she could touch my face.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Mrs Jones,” I smiled, and pressed my lips to her palm.
Emily winked. “You know it. Frank, don’t let him do anything stupid!”
I let go of her. She turned the key and blew me a kiss. I watched her drive away, until she turned onto the main road and disappeared.
Frank clapped a hand on my shoulder. “How are you feeling?”
“Ask me tomorrow,” I muttered.
He laughed. “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. It’s not as hard as you think it will be.”
He went to his Beetle, and pulled out a small bag and his suit. A few years ago, I’d been best man at his wedding, and now he was returning the favour. He was older than me, almost forty, but the age difference didn’t matter. He and Bianka were our closest friends. We had been through Hell together, and saved each other. It was an event which made my memory squirm. I’d never been so afraid, so horrified by truth. And yet it marked the moment when everything changed.
Even though I’d seen it countless times, I couldn’t help glancing at the scar on Frank’s neck. He was a vampire too, but not like the one who had tried to kill us. That was all gone now. So long ago.
We headed inside, and I filled the kettle with water. As it boiled, Frank gazed at the family tree on the kitchen wall. It had started as a hobby when I was a teenager, but in the years since, I’d managed to trace it back to the mid-eighteenth century: two hundred and fifty years. After I realised I wouldn’t be able to find any more information, I’d had it written onto a piece of parchment and framed it.
“Are you going to do Em’s side next?” asked Frank.
“Maybe,” I said. “How difficult do you think it would be to discover the other lines? If you know what I mean?”
“Venom lines? Like, who was a turner to who?”
“Yeah.”
Frank puffed out his cheeks. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t hold hope of it being easy. Even the regular science is hard enough.”
“That’s too bad,” I scowled. “It would be interesting to figure it all out. I mean, I know my… great, great, great-grandfather was a vampire–”
“Don’t we all?” Frank muttered darkly.
I winced. In my head, I could still see his black eyes; hear his voice as I carried Emily away from him…
“But it’s still interesting,” I continued, trying to force the memory away. “I mean, I say that now, with distance, but it still makes me wonder. It’s crazy to think giving permission is the only difference, between you and the ones who can live forever.”
Frank was silent for a long moment.
“Do you think about it often?” he asked. “What happened, I mean?”
I shrugged. “Sometimes.”
“You know nothing can hurt us now, don’t you?”
“Of course. I’m not afraid. I’m just curious about how vampirism is still this big secret. I know it’s been around for a long time, but nobody speaks about it. Everyone sneaks around, right under our noses. How many people do you think are like me and Em? Human, but in on it?”
“Not many,” Frank admitted. “You’re certainly the first humans I’ve known, who are.”
His voice was clipped and careful, but I couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride as I heard it. Emily and I had received a baptism of fire into the dark reality which ran alongside the everyday, and despite all the pain we had endured, we hadn’t shied away. Even now, when I looked at Frank, I didn’t see a creature who needed to drink blood, or who could fly, or hear the sound of my heartbeat from across a room. He was just a man like me, a little sensitive to light, no more beastly than anyone with any condition on Earth.
He was a friend.
The kettle clicked. We exchanged a smile, then I turned around to make the coffee.
*
I was awake before the sun even rose. I knew I should have breakfast, but the mere thought of eating anything twisted my stomach into a knot. So instead, I took a shower, shaved, changed into my suit and pinned my boutonnière in place. It matched the bouquet which Emily would be carrying: forget-me-nots around a single white rose.
When Frank and I were ready, we drove to the hotel. I kept my eyes fixed on my knees, and didn’t speak a word until we arrived. Then I saw a red carpet rolled out, flowers streaming through the entrance hall, ribbons hanging off every light fixture. I greeted the staff as best I could, trying to stop my hands from shaking.
Eventually, I stood at the end of the aisle, under an archway strung with fake ivy and scented with lavender. One by one, the guests arrived and filled up the seats behind me.
Suddenly, the music kicked in, and my heart shot into overdrive. Frank leaned close.
“Breathe, Michael. You don’t want to pass out.”
“Easy for you to say,” I muttered.
He squeezed my shoulder. I turned around, and barely held myself together.
First came Bianka: the lone maid of honour. She moved slowly, leaning on her cane for balance, with her flowers tied to the top of the shaft. Even though she was only in her early thirties, she’d been partially paralysed for as long as I’d known her, with a severed nerve in her back. In her other hand, she held onto Lucy Hanna, her and Frank’s daughter. The guests cooed when they saw her, in a toddler’s version of her mother’s dress.
Bianka caught my eye and winked. She reached the front row, steered Lucy aside, and my gaze moved to the end of the aisle.
Emily walked towards me on her father’s arm, with flowers in her hair, and a veil trailing over her shoulders. Her dress billowed around her like something from a fairy tale. Pinned to the front of her bouquet was a small photograph of her late sister, and the locket hung around her neck, perfectly placed.
“Hey, stranger,” she said when she reached me.
“You look beautiful,” I whispered. It didn’t hold a candle to what I really felt, but I couldn’t think of anything else to say.
Emily smiled. I wanted to kiss her right there and then; pull her into my arms and never let her go.
I tried to stay focused as the service commenced, but I couldn’t take my eyes off her. No matter that I’d lived with her for years, I gazed at her face as though I were seeing it for the first time. I remembered how she had looked when we were younger, with her longer hair and puppy fat; the pride with which she’d held herself at both her graduations; how she’d clung to me as I ran with her through cobwebs and darkness…
Yes, even that vicious memory was sweet now. It was what had reunited us. It had set this moment, however far away, into stone.
I swallowed, forcing my dry mouth to work as Frank handed me the ring. I slid it onto Emily's finger. She did the same to me, and tears shone in her eyes as she spoke the vows. And then, at last, I kissed her. I didn’t even hear the clapping and cheers. I was too lost in her.
Moments bled into each other. The dining tables were prepared; we raised toasts and recited speeches. Lights blazed on the dancefloor, and Emily and I swayed in each other’s arms. Then others joined us. Frank and Bee held Lucy between them, and bounced her up and down.
Eventually, as the night drew on, we wandered over to a sideboard, where everyone had placed their cards and gifts. I shook my head at the sight. I knew it was customary, but it still touched me to see all the parcels piled atop each other.
A hand tapped my arm, and I turned around. Bianka stood there, clutching her cane. She wore her hair in a neat bob, and just below the edges, on either side of her neck, I could see two characteristic scars, one older than the other. Like Frank, she was a vampire too.
“Boo,” she smiled. “I thought I’d come over here for a while. It’s a little more shaded. How are you both?”
“Fine,” smiled Emily. “Not drunk yet!”
“And I have no intention of getting drunk,” I added. “We’ve got a hell of a drive tomorrow!”
“How long will it take you to get to the Lake District?”
“About five hours, but we’ll be stopping along the way.”
Bianka nodded. “Make sure you take lots of photos!”
“We will,” Emily promised, then took hold of her hands. “Bee, thank you so much. Not just for this, but for everything. We wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.”
Bianka chuckled, and for the briefest of moments, her eyes flashed red.
“What are friends for?”
She glanced over her shoulder. After a brief pause, Frank approached, Lucy practically falling asleep against his chest.
“Poor little thing. She’s been very well-behaved,” I noted. “Take an extra slice of cake for her.”
“I think she’s had enough,” smiled Bianka, then she looked straight at Frank. “Did you get it?”
Frank swallowed. “Yes.”
I frowned. “Get what?”
“Let me ask you a question first,” he said quietly. “Are you taking your presents with you to Cumbria?”
Emily and I shared a glance. “Some of them. Why?”
“Alright,” Frank breathed, and held up his other hand.
For the first time, I noticed he was carrying a parcel. It was wrapped in shiny paper like the other gifts, but something about his expression confused me. It was the most solemn I’d seen in a very long time.
“This is from both of us,” he said. “If you don’t want to take it with you, we don’t mind keeping it until you get back, just so it's safe.”
“What is it?” Emily asked.
Neither Frank nor Bianka replied. The weight in their eyes struck me like hammers: a strange mixture of trust and seriousness.
I reached out. Frank hesitated for a moment, then passed the parcel to me. I blinked in surprise. It was heavy, but I got the impression that was more because whatever was inside had been packed into a sturdy box.
“Like we said,” Bianka whispered, “we can keep it for now, but it’s up to you.”
Emily looked at it again. I knew what she was going to say before she even opened her mouth.
“We’ll take it. I’m intrigued.”
A shadow passed across Frank’s face. I couldn’t tell if it was relief or nerves.
“Okay,” he said. “Be very careful with it. I mean it.”
Bianka threaded her fingers into his and squeezed them. Frank bit his lip – so hard, his sharp teeth sliced straight through the skin.
“Ah, damn it,” he muttered, and snatched a napkin off a nearby table to soak up the blood.
“What is it?” Emily asked again.
Bianka held a hand to her cheek with a mysterious smile. “You’ll see.”
When Frank and I were ready, we drove to the hotel. I kept my eyes fixed on my knees, and didn’t speak a word until we arrived. Then I saw a red carpet rolled out, flowers streaming through the entrance hall, ribbons hanging off every light fixture. I greeted the staff as best I could, trying to stop my hands from shaking.
Eventually, I stood at the end of the aisle, under an archway strung with fake ivy and scented with lavender. One by one, the guests arrived and filled up the seats behind me.
Suddenly, the music kicked in, and my heart shot into overdrive. Frank leaned close.
“Breathe, Michael. You don’t want to pass out.”
“Easy for you to say,” I muttered.
He squeezed my shoulder. I turned around, and barely held myself together.
First came Bianka: the lone maid of honour. She moved slowly, leaning on her cane for balance, with her flowers tied to the top of the shaft. Even though she was only in her early thirties, she’d been partially paralysed for as long as I’d known her, with a severed nerve in her back. In her other hand, she held onto Lucy Hanna, her and Frank’s daughter. The guests cooed when they saw her, in a toddler’s version of her mother’s dress.
Bianka caught my eye and winked. She reached the front row, steered Lucy aside, and my gaze moved to the end of the aisle.
Emily walked towards me on her father’s arm, with flowers in her hair, and a veil trailing over her shoulders. Her dress billowed around her like something from a fairy tale. Pinned to the front of her bouquet was a small photograph of her late sister, and the locket hung around her neck, perfectly placed.
“Hey, stranger,” she said when she reached me.
“You look beautiful,” I whispered. It didn’t hold a candle to what I really felt, but I couldn’t think of anything else to say.
Emily smiled. I wanted to kiss her right there and then; pull her into my arms and never let her go.
I tried to stay focused as the service commenced, but I couldn’t take my eyes off her. No matter that I’d lived with her for years, I gazed at her face as though I were seeing it for the first time. I remembered how she had looked when we were younger, with her longer hair and puppy fat; the pride with which she’d held herself at both her graduations; how she’d clung to me as I ran with her through cobwebs and darkness…
Yes, even that vicious memory was sweet now. It was what had reunited us. It had set this moment, however far away, into stone.
I swallowed, forcing my dry mouth to work as Frank handed me the ring. I slid it onto Emily's finger. She did the same to me, and tears shone in her eyes as she spoke the vows. And then, at last, I kissed her. I didn’t even hear the clapping and cheers. I was too lost in her.
Moments bled into each other. The dining tables were prepared; we raised toasts and recited speeches. Lights blazed on the dancefloor, and Emily and I swayed in each other’s arms. Then others joined us. Frank and Bee held Lucy between them, and bounced her up and down.
Eventually, as the night drew on, we wandered over to a sideboard, where everyone had placed their cards and gifts. I shook my head at the sight. I knew it was customary, but it still touched me to see all the parcels piled atop each other.
A hand tapped my arm, and I turned around. Bianka stood there, clutching her cane. She wore her hair in a neat bob, and just below the edges, on either side of her neck, I could see two characteristic scars, one older than the other. Like Frank, she was a vampire too.
“Boo,” she smiled. “I thought I’d come over here for a while. It’s a little more shaded. How are you both?”
“Fine,” smiled Emily. “Not drunk yet!”
“And I have no intention of getting drunk,” I added. “We’ve got a hell of a drive tomorrow!”
“How long will it take you to get to the Lake District?”
“About five hours, but we’ll be stopping along the way.”
Bianka nodded. “Make sure you take lots of photos!”
“We will,” Emily promised, then took hold of her hands. “Bee, thank you so much. Not just for this, but for everything. We wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.”
Bianka chuckled, and for the briefest of moments, her eyes flashed red.
“What are friends for?”
She glanced over her shoulder. After a brief pause, Frank approached, Lucy practically falling asleep against his chest.
“Poor little thing. She’s been very well-behaved,” I noted. “Take an extra slice of cake for her.”
“I think she’s had enough,” smiled Bianka, then she looked straight at Frank. “Did you get it?”
Frank swallowed. “Yes.”
I frowned. “Get what?”
“Let me ask you a question first,” he said quietly. “Are you taking your presents with you to Cumbria?”
Emily and I shared a glance. “Some of them. Why?”
“Alright,” Frank breathed, and held up his other hand.
For the first time, I noticed he was carrying a parcel. It was wrapped in shiny paper like the other gifts, but something about his expression confused me. It was the most solemn I’d seen in a very long time.
“This is from both of us,” he said. “If you don’t want to take it with you, we don’t mind keeping it until you get back, just so it's safe.”
“What is it?” Emily asked.
Neither Frank nor Bianka replied. The weight in their eyes struck me like hammers: a strange mixture of trust and seriousness.
I reached out. Frank hesitated for a moment, then passed the parcel to me. I blinked in surprise. It was heavy, but I got the impression that was more because whatever was inside had been packed into a sturdy box.
“Like we said,” Bianka whispered, “we can keep it for now, but it’s up to you.”
Emily looked at it again. I knew what she was going to say before she even opened her mouth.
“We’ll take it. I’m intrigued.”
A shadow passed across Frank’s face. I couldn’t tell if it was relief or nerves.
“Okay,” he said. “Be very careful with it. I mean it.”
Bianka threaded her fingers into his and squeezed them. Frank bit his lip – so hard, his sharp teeth sliced straight through the skin.
“Ah, damn it,” he muttered, and snatched a napkin off a nearby table to soak up the blood.
“What is it?” Emily asked again.
Bianka held a hand to her cheek with a mysterious smile. “You’ll see.”
*
The scenery slowly changed, from London’s busy streets to rolling green hills. As I sat behind the wheel, I imagined the car as though I were a bird looking down, watching us climb ever higher over a map of England. With every minute, we inched further north. The temperature dropped, and frost clung to the motorway banks like a dusting of icing sugar.
We had set off that morning after a celebratory breakfast, suitcase in the back. Bianka and Frank had promised to pack everything down and return our wedding clothes to the house. Now there was nothing to think about, except the wonderful two weeks ahead of us, in the middle of the countryside. This was the beginning of the rest of our lives.
Every now and then, we halted at service stations, bought silly knick-knacks and ate fast food. We were in no rush. The honeymoon didn’t technically start until tomorrow. Today, we just had to get there.
The sky was darkening by the time we finally reached the border of the national park. However, even as the light faded, I could see the mountains rearing around us, crowned with snow, crossed by the meandering lines of dry stone walls. Time and time again, we passed a lake. They gouged the land, trailing through the valleys like ribbons.
“Wow,” I breathed. “It’s hard to believe we’re still in the same country, isn’t it?”
Emily nodded, her eyes wide. She glanced at the sat-nav.
“Only ten miles to go,” she said. “I can’t wait for morning. This place is going to look amazing in the daylight!”
“What do you want to do tomorrow? Just go into the town and find our way around?”
“Yeah. And you can take me out to dinner, if you’d like.”
I smirked sarcastically. “Oh, wouldn’t that be a nice thing for me to do?”
Emily stuck out her tongue, then reached for her water bottle. I turned my attention back to the road. By now, we’d left the main motorway, and were on a winding route with no streetlamps, running along the banks of Derwentwater. The tyres skidded a little. Even from where I sat, I saw the sheen of ice on the asphalt.
I couldn’t help shaking my head. “Only we would decide to get married in February.”
“And come here for our honeymoon?” Emily added. “Would you rather have gone somewhere warmer?”
“We can do that next year,” I replied. “We’ll get warm soon enough.”
“Do you still want to go to Hattyúpatak?”
“At some point. There’s probably nothing there, but I’d like to see it.”
In truth, we hadn’t had enough money to travel anywhere substantial. It was more important to us to have a large wedding, which everyone could enjoy, than splash all the funds on a lavish holiday. And besides Budapest, itself a city, neither of us had really been outside London. The idea of seeing the countryside had been too tempting.
I followed the road around a curve, and trees crossed overhead, weaving their branches together until we were encased in darkness. Then, suddenly, a car came from the other direction, and light exploded across my eyes.
I felt the tyres lose their grip and spin. Emily shrieked. Barely thinking, I twisted the wheel and forced the clutch down to the floor. The side of my head slammed into the doorframe.
Slowly, we drew to a stop. I slumped back with a shaky gasp, and Emily yanked the handbrake up.
“Michael? Are you okay?”
I held a hand to my face. It came away wet.
“Michael?”
“I’m fine…”
I heard Emily rummaging in her bag, then she held her phone in front of me, the light turned on. She peered into my eyes. But before she could do anything, I heard knuckles rapping on my window.
A police officer was standing there. He carefully opened the door and peered at us. At once, his attention locked onto me.
“Are you two alright?”
“I’m fine,” Emily replied shakily, “but I think he’s concussed.”
The officer winced. “I’m sorry, sir. Did my lights dazzle you?”
“That, and the ice,” I muttered. “Aren’t these roads gritted at all?”
“They are, but first thing in the morning,” he replied.
Emily got out of the car, and came around to the other side, so she could see me better. The officer retrieved his torch to make it easier for her. The glow stung my eyes, and I turned away to shield them. Everything was spinning.
“Do you need an ambulance?” asked the officer.
“No,” Emily said. “It’s not too bad. I can drive him.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I’m a trainee doctor. Where’s the nearest hospital?”
“It’s not far. I can show you the way, if you want to follow me. Is he safe to be moved?”
Emily nodded. Without another word, the officer unbuckled my seatbelt and helped me out of the car. My shoes skidded on the ice, and he grabbed hold of me.
“Easy does it,” he said. “Put your arm over my shoulder.”
I didn’t protest as he led me to the passenger seat. I shivered; he was freezing cold. I slumped against him, trying to keep my bleeding head upright, but I still felt it knock against his chin. At once, he stiffened and stopped walking.
“Sorry,” I muttered.
The officer quickly cleared his throat. “Don’t worry about it.”
He lowered me down, then Emily tore open the suitcase, grabbed a sock, and told me to hold it against the cut. I bit the inside of my cheek to remind myself not to close my eyes. Before I knew it, we were moving again, following the police car back onto the main road.
Eventually, to my relief, streetlamps appeared, then buildings, and finally, the characteristic white and blue sign of a hospital. Emily parked as close to the emergency room as she could, and she and the officer helped me along the corridor.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
“Not bad,” I replied. The double-vision had thankfully gone, but pain still throbbed around my head, and I felt every single footstep reverberating through my body.
A nurse approached, threw the bloodied sock into a bin, and pulled my hair aside to inspect the wound.
“It’s not deep,” she said. “It looks worse than it is. Head hits always do.”
“Will it need stitches?”
“No. Surgical glue should do the trick. Just sit tight, and we’ll get you seen in a minute.”
Emily and I sank onto a couple of plastic chairs against the wall. She rested her cheek on my shoulder.
“What a great way to kick off our honeymoon, huh?” I groaned. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. It was an accident. They happen,” she replied. “I’m just glad nothing was broken. The most important thing is we’re together.”
I threw a glance at the surroundings and snorted. “Not exactly the most romantic place, though, is it?”
She kissed me softly. “I’ll take it.”
The police officer approached us.
“Will you both be alright if I leave you?” he asked.
“Yes,” said Emily. “Thank you so much. We really appreciate it.”
He smiled. “It comes with the territory. Take care, now.”
He tipped his hat, in a way I’d only seen my grandfather do, then headed towards the door. As he left, I heard him singing under his breath.
“I’ll do as much for my sweetheart, as any a young lad may.
I would sit and mourn all on her grave, for twelve decades and a day…”
We had set off that morning after a celebratory breakfast, suitcase in the back. Bianka and Frank had promised to pack everything down and return our wedding clothes to the house. Now there was nothing to think about, except the wonderful two weeks ahead of us, in the middle of the countryside. This was the beginning of the rest of our lives.
Every now and then, we halted at service stations, bought silly knick-knacks and ate fast food. We were in no rush. The honeymoon didn’t technically start until tomorrow. Today, we just had to get there.
The sky was darkening by the time we finally reached the border of the national park. However, even as the light faded, I could see the mountains rearing around us, crowned with snow, crossed by the meandering lines of dry stone walls. Time and time again, we passed a lake. They gouged the land, trailing through the valleys like ribbons.
“Wow,” I breathed. “It’s hard to believe we’re still in the same country, isn’t it?”
Emily nodded, her eyes wide. She glanced at the sat-nav.
“Only ten miles to go,” she said. “I can’t wait for morning. This place is going to look amazing in the daylight!”
“What do you want to do tomorrow? Just go into the town and find our way around?”
“Yeah. And you can take me out to dinner, if you’d like.”
I smirked sarcastically. “Oh, wouldn’t that be a nice thing for me to do?”
Emily stuck out her tongue, then reached for her water bottle. I turned my attention back to the road. By now, we’d left the main motorway, and were on a winding route with no streetlamps, running along the banks of Derwentwater. The tyres skidded a little. Even from where I sat, I saw the sheen of ice on the asphalt.
I couldn’t help shaking my head. “Only we would decide to get married in February.”
“And come here for our honeymoon?” Emily added. “Would you rather have gone somewhere warmer?”
“We can do that next year,” I replied. “We’ll get warm soon enough.”
“Do you still want to go to Hattyúpatak?”
“At some point. There’s probably nothing there, but I’d like to see it.”
In truth, we hadn’t had enough money to travel anywhere substantial. It was more important to us to have a large wedding, which everyone could enjoy, than splash all the funds on a lavish holiday. And besides Budapest, itself a city, neither of us had really been outside London. The idea of seeing the countryside had been too tempting.
I followed the road around a curve, and trees crossed overhead, weaving their branches together until we were encased in darkness. Then, suddenly, a car came from the other direction, and light exploded across my eyes.
I felt the tyres lose their grip and spin. Emily shrieked. Barely thinking, I twisted the wheel and forced the clutch down to the floor. The side of my head slammed into the doorframe.
Slowly, we drew to a stop. I slumped back with a shaky gasp, and Emily yanked the handbrake up.
“Michael? Are you okay?”
I held a hand to my face. It came away wet.
“Michael?”
“I’m fine…”
I heard Emily rummaging in her bag, then she held her phone in front of me, the light turned on. She peered into my eyes. But before she could do anything, I heard knuckles rapping on my window.
A police officer was standing there. He carefully opened the door and peered at us. At once, his attention locked onto me.
“Are you two alright?”
“I’m fine,” Emily replied shakily, “but I think he’s concussed.”
The officer winced. “I’m sorry, sir. Did my lights dazzle you?”
“That, and the ice,” I muttered. “Aren’t these roads gritted at all?”
“They are, but first thing in the morning,” he replied.
Emily got out of the car, and came around to the other side, so she could see me better. The officer retrieved his torch to make it easier for her. The glow stung my eyes, and I turned away to shield them. Everything was spinning.
“Do you need an ambulance?” asked the officer.
“No,” Emily said. “It’s not too bad. I can drive him.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I’m a trainee doctor. Where’s the nearest hospital?”
“It’s not far. I can show you the way, if you want to follow me. Is he safe to be moved?”
Emily nodded. Without another word, the officer unbuckled my seatbelt and helped me out of the car. My shoes skidded on the ice, and he grabbed hold of me.
“Easy does it,” he said. “Put your arm over my shoulder.”
I didn’t protest as he led me to the passenger seat. I shivered; he was freezing cold. I slumped against him, trying to keep my bleeding head upright, but I still felt it knock against his chin. At once, he stiffened and stopped walking.
“Sorry,” I muttered.
The officer quickly cleared his throat. “Don’t worry about it.”
He lowered me down, then Emily tore open the suitcase, grabbed a sock, and told me to hold it against the cut. I bit the inside of my cheek to remind myself not to close my eyes. Before I knew it, we were moving again, following the police car back onto the main road.
Eventually, to my relief, streetlamps appeared, then buildings, and finally, the characteristic white and blue sign of a hospital. Emily parked as close to the emergency room as she could, and she and the officer helped me along the corridor.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
“Not bad,” I replied. The double-vision had thankfully gone, but pain still throbbed around my head, and I felt every single footstep reverberating through my body.
A nurse approached, threw the bloodied sock into a bin, and pulled my hair aside to inspect the wound.
“It’s not deep,” she said. “It looks worse than it is. Head hits always do.”
“Will it need stitches?”
“No. Surgical glue should do the trick. Just sit tight, and we’ll get you seen in a minute.”
Emily and I sank onto a couple of plastic chairs against the wall. She rested her cheek on my shoulder.
“What a great way to kick off our honeymoon, huh?” I groaned. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. It was an accident. They happen,” she replied. “I’m just glad nothing was broken. The most important thing is we’re together.”
I threw a glance at the surroundings and snorted. “Not exactly the most romantic place, though, is it?”
She kissed me softly. “I’ll take it.”
The police officer approached us.
“Will you both be alright if I leave you?” he asked.
“Yes,” said Emily. “Thank you so much. We really appreciate it.”
He smiled. “It comes with the territory. Take care, now.”
He tipped his hat, in a way I’d only seen my grandfather do, then headed towards the door. As he left, I heard him singing under his breath.
“I’ll do as much for my sweetheart, as any a young lad may.
I would sit and mourn all on her grave, for twelve decades and a day…”
*
The first thing I heard was screaming: a sound of pain and terror, from deep underground. I swung the mausoleum door wide; choked on the stale air as I ran down the staircase. And then I saw the sight which flipped the world forever.
Frank was pinned six feet off the floor. Bianka lay in a heap and covered in blood. Emily was bound on top of a stone sarcophagus. And between them all: a face I knew only from a sepia photograph. Not a day had passed since that image had been taken. The only thing that had changed were those eyes: black as jet, frozen in time, burning with danger.
Bianka screamed at me to save Emily. I tried to, but the vampire snatched the front of my coat.
“Ismerős szagot érzel,” he snarled. “Ki vagy te?”
Panic blinded me. I later learned that he’d recognised my scent as family, and was demanding to know who I was. But in that moment, I couldn’t think, could barely breathe. It was impossible. I knew it was…
I jolted awake.
For a moment, I didn’t know where I was, but then I recognised the room. We were at Croglin Grange Hotel, in the Lake District. We’d arrived just before midnight, and fallen straight into bed without even unpacking. The suitcase sat in the corner, exactly where I’d left it. The ornate Victorian mantel clock pointed to ten.
Ten in the morning?
I blinked in surprise, but didn’t chide myself. Even before the incident on the road, I hadn’t planned to set an alarm. What was the point of a holiday if you couldn’t sleep in?
My head smarted, but it wasn’t as bad as the night before. I gingerly inspected the dressing with my fingers. I could tell from touch alone that it was bruised, and I’d probably have a scar, but I didn’t care. My hair would cover it well enough. And now the ordeal was over, I knew how lucky we’d been.
On that thought, I rolled onto my side, and looked at Emily. She was still asleep, one arm thrown above her head. In the crook of her elbow was a faint scar.
In an instant, I remembered the crypt; her terrified and helpless gaze; my ancestor’s black eyes turning on me. He had done that to her. He had kidnapped her, and tried to kill Bianka and Frank. By some miracle, we had all escaped.
Yes. Lucky indeed.
I pressed my lips to Emily's. She kept her eyes closed, but kissed me back.
“Good morning, Mrs Jones,” I whispered.
“Same to you, clumsy,” she smiled. “How’s your head?”
“I’ll live. Maybe we can take a walk? I need some fresh air.”
“Do you feel up to it?”
“Sure. We won’t go far.”
“Okay,” said Emily. “Anyway, you owe me a new pair of socks.”
I laughed. Before she could move, I leaned across her and took her face in my hands.
“That’s the worst of your worries? We nearly ended up in a lake, and you’re thinking about socks?”
“They were merino wool,” she argued with a playful pout.
I kissed her again, holding onto her as tightly as I dared. For a moment, I thought about foregoing the walk until the afternoon. I could happily stay in bed for hours and never let her go. But I pushed that temptation aside. We could do this all night, but daylight was precious.
With a huge amount of willpower, I rolled off her and opened the curtains. She took me to the bathroom, removed my dressing and washed the cut. Then we pulled on our layers, made our way downstairs, and into the crisp air.
It sliced my throat as I breathed. No snow had fallen in the valley, but the grass was fringed with frost, each blade bound in its own icy crust. Beneath a sky as clear as glass, the fells extended in all directions, capped by lingering clouds, dotted with grazing sheep. I heard their bleating on the wind; caught the faint scent of dung and dampness. And just a stone’s throw from the hotel car park lay the shore of Derwentwater, no longer black and glassy, but sparkling in the sun.
It was nothing like the traffic and sooty smog which I’d always known in London. Forget being in the same country; a part of me felt I had stepped into another world. The city – any city – seemed so far away, forgotten, irrelevant. In this place, everything was simpler, yet grander; beautiful in the most rugged way.
Emily drove us to the nearest town, Keswick, and we strolled through the streets, ducking into quaint shops and exploring the historical buildings. I turned my eyes to the mountains. As soon as my head was better, I wanted to hike them. Perhaps we might even spot Scotland from their summits.
I hadn’t forgotten Emily’s dinner hint from the night before. We found a picturesque pub, sat at a table by the fire, and ordered a hearty meal.
“Was this what you had in mind?” I asked, sweeping my arm around the room.
She chuckled. “If I’d wanted the Ritz, then I would have insisted we went somewhere like it.”
I slid my hand across the table to hers. The two rings glinted on her finger. Then I looked up, and realised she had put on the silver locket.
“Why are you wearing that?” I asked in surprise.
“Because it’s pretty,” she replied. “Do you know what this stands for?”
She tapped the surface. Among the filigree was a crest, bearing a large cross.
“I think it’s the Calvin symbol,” I said. “I saw it on a couple of documents when I was tracing the family tree. One of my ancestors used it when he was in the Crimean War.”
Emily smiled and began running the pendant along the chain.
“It’s crazy to think that entire hobby started with the Crimean War. What was it, a history module for you in college?”
“Yeah. I don’t know, I just found it really interesting.”
“I’m shocked you didn’t become an archaeologist, or something.”
I shrugged. “I don’t think I’d enjoy it as much, if it was my job.”
“Fair enough,” Emily said. “It’s different for me. You can’t really keep medicine to a hobby, can you?”
“Even if you could, I know you wouldn’t. You need to keep busy. You love it too much.”
“True. That reminds me, this time next year, I’ll be graduating. I'll have to change my name again, won’t I? To Doctor Jones.”
“It’s got a nice ring to it,” I smiled, then quickly kissed her knuckles as the food was brought out.
By the time we had finished eating, the sun was setting, so we headed back to the hotel. I opened the suitcase and unpacked. We would be staying for a fortnight. It made sense to make use of the wardrobe and settle in properly.
Then my eyes went to a second bag at the foot of the bed, containing the gifts we’d chosen to bring along.
“Do you want to look at these?” I asked.
Emily turned around to see what I was talking about.
“Would you mind if I took a bath first? I’m cold.”
“Sure.”
She undid the locket, handed it to me, and left to run the water. As the scent of soap filled the suite, I regarded the pendant, running my thumb over the engraving. It looked perfect, as though it had been made only yesterday. There were no dents, nor the tiniest hint of tarnishing. I opened it and glanced at the hair locks inside. I wished I knew who they belonged to.
The hotel phone suddenly rang. I picked it up.
“Hello?”
“Mr Jones? There’s a police officer at reception. He wishes to speak to you.”
My mouth went dry. Was it the same one who had seen us to the hospital?
“Uh… okay. Is it something I should be concerned about?”
“He doesn’t say so, sir.”
“Alright, I’ll be there in a minute.”
I placed the phone back into its cradle with a frown. What was going on? Had he decided it was my fault we’d almost skidded off the road? What a honeymoon this was turning out to be.
I pulled on a pair of trainers and grabbed a jacket.
“Em, I’m just going downstairs,” I called through the bathroom door. “I shouldn’t be long.”
“Okay,” she replied.
I put the locket on the sideboard, and let myself out of the room. With every step, my heart pounded. I even felt it in my head, and a tiny part of me worried the wound would split open under the pressure. I held tight to the ornate oak banister as I descended to the ground floor. The hotel was a beautiful old building, but its grandeur was lost on me now.
“You’ve done nothing wrong. Quit panicking,” I snapped at myself as I turned the final corner.
I spotted the police officer, perched in a chair and toying with his hat. He looked up, straight at me, with alarming precision. It was almost as though he had heard me coming, from the other side of the hall.
I blinked. Was it the same one? Last night, I was so dazed, I’d been seeing double. Had he been wearing tinted glasses like that?
“Mr Jones,” he said cordially. “Forgive my intrusion. I’d like a word with you, sir.”
I swallowed. “Am I under arrest, or something?”
“No, no. Would you mind taking a little walk with me?”
I hesitated. His tone was civil enough – and now I heard it, I knew it was definitely the same man who had helped us. But something about him set my teeth on edge. I hadn’t seen him before, yet the way he looked at me… Did he know me?
It didn’t matter. I couldn’t refuse.
I headed through the door with him. The air was even crisper now than in the morning. My breath misted, and I folded my arms against the cold. The officer, however, hardly seemed fazed by it. I expected him to stop in the car park, but he didn’t. Instead, he beckoned me out of the gate, and down the path, until we stood right by the lapping shore of the lake. It sat like a giant black mirror, reflecting the light of a full moon in a single silver line.
The officer took off his glasses and hooked them into his pocket.
“I wasn’t ever expecting to make a call like this,” he said.
I drew level with him. “Can I please ask why you have?”
“Let me counter that with a question of my own. I’m going to say a name, and I just want you to tell me if it means anything to you. If it doesn’t, I will walk away and you’ll never hear from me again.”
I blinked. There was a strange cadence to his voice which I hadn’t heard before. Beneath the Cumbrian dialect was a mixture of something else: the clipped elocution I recognised from London. But it wasn’t like anything I knew from the capital. It was older. He sounded as though he had stepped out of an early black and white film.
“Alright,” I said uncertainly. “What name?”
“Éva Kálvin.”
I almost fell over. The officer looked straight at me.
“I assume it does mean something,” he said.
“Yes. It was my great, great-grandmother’s name.”
“I know.”
He drew in a deep breath, then pulled his torch from his belt, flicked it on, and held it close to his face. At once, I understood why he seemed so strange. His eyes were completely black.
Terror closed around my heart. I staggered backwards, and tumbled over.
“Don’t be frightened, Michael,” the vampire said.
I scurried away. I knew I should run, but my muscles refused to respond. I snatched desperate breaths as though drowning. He wasn’t like Frank and Bianka. Their irises could turn red; they could move in daylight. They were harmless. But not this one. Not with eyes like that. He was like the other one, who had almost murdered us...
“Michael,” he said again. “Please. I mean no harm.”
“I don’t believe you. What do you want?”
“Nothing, save for a conversation.”
“Why? How do you know about me?”
The vampire approached. However, he didn’t pounce on me. He just extended a hand.
I looked at it warily. My own eyes had adjusted to the darkness now, and even in the moonlight, I suddenly realised how pale he was, as though he hadn’t seen the sun for years.
“If I was going to kill you, I would have done it by now,” he said. “I’m not in the habit of being frivolous with my time.”
My heart was still pounding, but I believed him. After all, the last time I’d seen a vampire like this, I had been immediately trapped.
So, shaking with fright, I let him help me up. He gave me a gentle smile, and I did my best to return it, though every cell in my body screamed at me to flee. I glanced at his neck, but didn’t see a scar. It was too well-hidden by his shirt collar. But just above the material was a faint line, running in a circle. It looked like a rope burn.
“Who are you?” I asked nervously.
“My colleagues know me as Chief Inspector Kálvin,” the vampire said. “But you can call me James, if you want. Or Jack. I answer to both.”
“Kálvin?” I repeated. For that one word, his voice had changed again, into a perfect Hungarian accent.
“It’s not my true name. I’ve had many aliases, you see. Many lives, like a phoenix being constantly reborn. Wotton, Newburgh, Ruthven, Hayes… but Kálvin is the one I’ve kept for the longest. A hundred and twenty-two years, five months, and twenty-five days, to be precise. Your great, great-grandmother left a significant impact on me.”
I stared at him. “You knew her?”
“Not for long, in the grand scheme of things, but yes.”
“When?”
“I first met her in 1894. I know you are her descendant, Michael. Last night, when I was helping you into the passenger seat, your head knocked against mine. Do you remember? I didn’t mean to, but I got a little taste of your blood, and blood carries memories. I saw your family line as clear as day, if you’ll pardon the expression.”
My mouth fell open. I didn’t know much about Éva Kálvin; only that she was born in Budapest and lived in England for a time. She had been involved with vampires too? With this vampire?
“You’re trembling,” James noted. “Why are you afraid?”
“I don’t know whether I should trust you,” I said.
He laughed mirthlessly. “If you had admitted that two centuries ago, I would have applauded your judgement. But now, I ask you to suspend your wariness. I won’t harm you. I haven’t harmed anyone in decades.”
I stared at him again. Despite the insane numbers he had just mentioned, he only looked the same age as me. There wasn’t a line in his face, nor a single hint of grey against his strawberry blonde hair. But there was a cool cast to his youth: a wisdom and experience which went beyond the surface. An expression like that could only belong to someone who had seen more than I might ever imagine.
“How old are you?” I asked. A part of me dreaded to know the answer.
James cocked an eyebrow. “Much older than the other one of my kind you have met.”
“You saw that, too?”
“Indeed. He certainly was a vicious one, wasn’t he?”
I shuddered. “He tried to kill us.”
“I know,” said James. “Many like us would. But not me.”
“What else did you see?”
“That you are in the rather unique position of accepting vampires. Your best friends, namely. That’s why I hoped I could speak to you, man to man. It’s been so long since I’ve had that opportunity.”
“Since Éva, you mean?”
For a moment, James’s face was unreadable. Then he turned his attention over the lake, and let out a sigh from the depths of his lungs.
“But I have lived, and have not lived in vain,” he said. “You want to know why I chose to take her name? I did it to honour her and what she stood for. I wanted to keep her alive in some way. I hoped her line had managed to endure, but I didn’t know. Not until last night, when I met you.”
Suddenly, it all made sense.
“You loved her, didn’t you?” I whispered.
A muscle twitched in James’s cheek.
“I’ve hated many, and loved only a rare few. She was one of them. There will never be another like her. I’ll hold to that until the Earth stops turning.”
I took a step forward so I could see him better, but he still didn’t look at me. His eyes glazed over; focused on something far away, and long ago. For a moment, he seemed like an old man trapped in a young body.
“Your hair would curl if you knew the darkness she endured,” he continued. “But you see, through it all, despite it all, she was determined to make good. To leave a ray of sunshine even as the night sought to swallow her. In my own way, though I cannot know that sunshine again, I’ve endeavoured to draw close to it, for as long as I can. She taught me a valuable lesson. She came into my life for a heartbeat, and then she was gone. But in that brief time – a single drop in the well of eternity – she was my redemption. She rescued me by destroying me. I never had but one sweetheart, and in cold grave she was lain.”
He glanced at his hands. Then, finally, he turned to me again. His eyes glistened with tears.
“Would you like to hear the story, Michael?” he asked. “Not just hers, but mine? Would you want to know everything?”
I licked my lips nervously. The cold was biting down to my bones. A chill wind blew from the north and raked its icy fingers through my hair.
I thought of Emily, alone in the suite; of Frank and Bianka, and the strength we had all found in each other. Then, I remembered standing with Frank in the kitchen just a couple of days ago, looking at my family tree; at the black lines of ink which connected every name.
“Yes, please,” I said.
James smiled again. It wasn’t something cruel or mocking, but open and thankful.
“Come,” he said quietly, and led me along the path by the lakeside. “It all began in a backstreet in Whitechapel, on February 20th, 1769. Exactly two hundred and fifty years ago, tonight. How ironically apt.”
Frank was pinned six feet off the floor. Bianka lay in a heap and covered in blood. Emily was bound on top of a stone sarcophagus. And between them all: a face I knew only from a sepia photograph. Not a day had passed since that image had been taken. The only thing that had changed were those eyes: black as jet, frozen in time, burning with danger.
Bianka screamed at me to save Emily. I tried to, but the vampire snatched the front of my coat.
“Ismerős szagot érzel,” he snarled. “Ki vagy te?”
Panic blinded me. I later learned that he’d recognised my scent as family, and was demanding to know who I was. But in that moment, I couldn’t think, could barely breathe. It was impossible. I knew it was…
I jolted awake.
For a moment, I didn’t know where I was, but then I recognised the room. We were at Croglin Grange Hotel, in the Lake District. We’d arrived just before midnight, and fallen straight into bed without even unpacking. The suitcase sat in the corner, exactly where I’d left it. The ornate Victorian mantel clock pointed to ten.
Ten in the morning?
I blinked in surprise, but didn’t chide myself. Even before the incident on the road, I hadn’t planned to set an alarm. What was the point of a holiday if you couldn’t sleep in?
My head smarted, but it wasn’t as bad as the night before. I gingerly inspected the dressing with my fingers. I could tell from touch alone that it was bruised, and I’d probably have a scar, but I didn’t care. My hair would cover it well enough. And now the ordeal was over, I knew how lucky we’d been.
On that thought, I rolled onto my side, and looked at Emily. She was still asleep, one arm thrown above her head. In the crook of her elbow was a faint scar.
In an instant, I remembered the crypt; her terrified and helpless gaze; my ancestor’s black eyes turning on me. He had done that to her. He had kidnapped her, and tried to kill Bianka and Frank. By some miracle, we had all escaped.
Yes. Lucky indeed.
I pressed my lips to Emily's. She kept her eyes closed, but kissed me back.
“Good morning, Mrs Jones,” I whispered.
“Same to you, clumsy,” she smiled. “How’s your head?”
“I’ll live. Maybe we can take a walk? I need some fresh air.”
“Do you feel up to it?”
“Sure. We won’t go far.”
“Okay,” said Emily. “Anyway, you owe me a new pair of socks.”
I laughed. Before she could move, I leaned across her and took her face in my hands.
“That’s the worst of your worries? We nearly ended up in a lake, and you’re thinking about socks?”
“They were merino wool,” she argued with a playful pout.
I kissed her again, holding onto her as tightly as I dared. For a moment, I thought about foregoing the walk until the afternoon. I could happily stay in bed for hours and never let her go. But I pushed that temptation aside. We could do this all night, but daylight was precious.
With a huge amount of willpower, I rolled off her and opened the curtains. She took me to the bathroom, removed my dressing and washed the cut. Then we pulled on our layers, made our way downstairs, and into the crisp air.
It sliced my throat as I breathed. No snow had fallen in the valley, but the grass was fringed with frost, each blade bound in its own icy crust. Beneath a sky as clear as glass, the fells extended in all directions, capped by lingering clouds, dotted with grazing sheep. I heard their bleating on the wind; caught the faint scent of dung and dampness. And just a stone’s throw from the hotel car park lay the shore of Derwentwater, no longer black and glassy, but sparkling in the sun.
It was nothing like the traffic and sooty smog which I’d always known in London. Forget being in the same country; a part of me felt I had stepped into another world. The city – any city – seemed so far away, forgotten, irrelevant. In this place, everything was simpler, yet grander; beautiful in the most rugged way.
Emily drove us to the nearest town, Keswick, and we strolled through the streets, ducking into quaint shops and exploring the historical buildings. I turned my eyes to the mountains. As soon as my head was better, I wanted to hike them. Perhaps we might even spot Scotland from their summits.
I hadn’t forgotten Emily’s dinner hint from the night before. We found a picturesque pub, sat at a table by the fire, and ordered a hearty meal.
“Was this what you had in mind?” I asked, sweeping my arm around the room.
She chuckled. “If I’d wanted the Ritz, then I would have insisted we went somewhere like it.”
I slid my hand across the table to hers. The two rings glinted on her finger. Then I looked up, and realised she had put on the silver locket.
“Why are you wearing that?” I asked in surprise.
“Because it’s pretty,” she replied. “Do you know what this stands for?”
She tapped the surface. Among the filigree was a crest, bearing a large cross.
“I think it’s the Calvin symbol,” I said. “I saw it on a couple of documents when I was tracing the family tree. One of my ancestors used it when he was in the Crimean War.”
Emily smiled and began running the pendant along the chain.
“It’s crazy to think that entire hobby started with the Crimean War. What was it, a history module for you in college?”
“Yeah. I don’t know, I just found it really interesting.”
“I’m shocked you didn’t become an archaeologist, or something.”
I shrugged. “I don’t think I’d enjoy it as much, if it was my job.”
“Fair enough,” Emily said. “It’s different for me. You can’t really keep medicine to a hobby, can you?”
“Even if you could, I know you wouldn’t. You need to keep busy. You love it too much.”
“True. That reminds me, this time next year, I’ll be graduating. I'll have to change my name again, won’t I? To Doctor Jones.”
“It’s got a nice ring to it,” I smiled, then quickly kissed her knuckles as the food was brought out.
By the time we had finished eating, the sun was setting, so we headed back to the hotel. I opened the suitcase and unpacked. We would be staying for a fortnight. It made sense to make use of the wardrobe and settle in properly.
Then my eyes went to a second bag at the foot of the bed, containing the gifts we’d chosen to bring along.
“Do you want to look at these?” I asked.
Emily turned around to see what I was talking about.
“Would you mind if I took a bath first? I’m cold.”
“Sure.”
She undid the locket, handed it to me, and left to run the water. As the scent of soap filled the suite, I regarded the pendant, running my thumb over the engraving. It looked perfect, as though it had been made only yesterday. There were no dents, nor the tiniest hint of tarnishing. I opened it and glanced at the hair locks inside. I wished I knew who they belonged to.
The hotel phone suddenly rang. I picked it up.
“Hello?”
“Mr Jones? There’s a police officer at reception. He wishes to speak to you.”
My mouth went dry. Was it the same one who had seen us to the hospital?
“Uh… okay. Is it something I should be concerned about?”
“He doesn’t say so, sir.”
“Alright, I’ll be there in a minute.”
I placed the phone back into its cradle with a frown. What was going on? Had he decided it was my fault we’d almost skidded off the road? What a honeymoon this was turning out to be.
I pulled on a pair of trainers and grabbed a jacket.
“Em, I’m just going downstairs,” I called through the bathroom door. “I shouldn’t be long.”
“Okay,” she replied.
I put the locket on the sideboard, and let myself out of the room. With every step, my heart pounded. I even felt it in my head, and a tiny part of me worried the wound would split open under the pressure. I held tight to the ornate oak banister as I descended to the ground floor. The hotel was a beautiful old building, but its grandeur was lost on me now.
“You’ve done nothing wrong. Quit panicking,” I snapped at myself as I turned the final corner.
I spotted the police officer, perched in a chair and toying with his hat. He looked up, straight at me, with alarming precision. It was almost as though he had heard me coming, from the other side of the hall.
I blinked. Was it the same one? Last night, I was so dazed, I’d been seeing double. Had he been wearing tinted glasses like that?
“Mr Jones,” he said cordially. “Forgive my intrusion. I’d like a word with you, sir.”
I swallowed. “Am I under arrest, or something?”
“No, no. Would you mind taking a little walk with me?”
I hesitated. His tone was civil enough – and now I heard it, I knew it was definitely the same man who had helped us. But something about him set my teeth on edge. I hadn’t seen him before, yet the way he looked at me… Did he know me?
It didn’t matter. I couldn’t refuse.
I headed through the door with him. The air was even crisper now than in the morning. My breath misted, and I folded my arms against the cold. The officer, however, hardly seemed fazed by it. I expected him to stop in the car park, but he didn’t. Instead, he beckoned me out of the gate, and down the path, until we stood right by the lapping shore of the lake. It sat like a giant black mirror, reflecting the light of a full moon in a single silver line.
The officer took off his glasses and hooked them into his pocket.
“I wasn’t ever expecting to make a call like this,” he said.
I drew level with him. “Can I please ask why you have?”
“Let me counter that with a question of my own. I’m going to say a name, and I just want you to tell me if it means anything to you. If it doesn’t, I will walk away and you’ll never hear from me again.”
I blinked. There was a strange cadence to his voice which I hadn’t heard before. Beneath the Cumbrian dialect was a mixture of something else: the clipped elocution I recognised from London. But it wasn’t like anything I knew from the capital. It was older. He sounded as though he had stepped out of an early black and white film.
“Alright,” I said uncertainly. “What name?”
“Éva Kálvin.”
I almost fell over. The officer looked straight at me.
“I assume it does mean something,” he said.
“Yes. It was my great, great-grandmother’s name.”
“I know.”
He drew in a deep breath, then pulled his torch from his belt, flicked it on, and held it close to his face. At once, I understood why he seemed so strange. His eyes were completely black.
Terror closed around my heart. I staggered backwards, and tumbled over.
“Don’t be frightened, Michael,” the vampire said.
I scurried away. I knew I should run, but my muscles refused to respond. I snatched desperate breaths as though drowning. He wasn’t like Frank and Bianka. Their irises could turn red; they could move in daylight. They were harmless. But not this one. Not with eyes like that. He was like the other one, who had almost murdered us...
“Michael,” he said again. “Please. I mean no harm.”
“I don’t believe you. What do you want?”
“Nothing, save for a conversation.”
“Why? How do you know about me?”
The vampire approached. However, he didn’t pounce on me. He just extended a hand.
I looked at it warily. My own eyes had adjusted to the darkness now, and even in the moonlight, I suddenly realised how pale he was, as though he hadn’t seen the sun for years.
“If I was going to kill you, I would have done it by now,” he said. “I’m not in the habit of being frivolous with my time.”
My heart was still pounding, but I believed him. After all, the last time I’d seen a vampire like this, I had been immediately trapped.
So, shaking with fright, I let him help me up. He gave me a gentle smile, and I did my best to return it, though every cell in my body screamed at me to flee. I glanced at his neck, but didn’t see a scar. It was too well-hidden by his shirt collar. But just above the material was a faint line, running in a circle. It looked like a rope burn.
“Who are you?” I asked nervously.
“My colleagues know me as Chief Inspector Kálvin,” the vampire said. “But you can call me James, if you want. Or Jack. I answer to both.”
“Kálvin?” I repeated. For that one word, his voice had changed again, into a perfect Hungarian accent.
“It’s not my true name. I’ve had many aliases, you see. Many lives, like a phoenix being constantly reborn. Wotton, Newburgh, Ruthven, Hayes… but Kálvin is the one I’ve kept for the longest. A hundred and twenty-two years, five months, and twenty-five days, to be precise. Your great, great-grandmother left a significant impact on me.”
I stared at him. “You knew her?”
“Not for long, in the grand scheme of things, but yes.”
“When?”
“I first met her in 1894. I know you are her descendant, Michael. Last night, when I was helping you into the passenger seat, your head knocked against mine. Do you remember? I didn’t mean to, but I got a little taste of your blood, and blood carries memories. I saw your family line as clear as day, if you’ll pardon the expression.”
My mouth fell open. I didn’t know much about Éva Kálvin; only that she was born in Budapest and lived in England for a time. She had been involved with vampires too? With this vampire?
“You’re trembling,” James noted. “Why are you afraid?”
“I don’t know whether I should trust you,” I said.
He laughed mirthlessly. “If you had admitted that two centuries ago, I would have applauded your judgement. But now, I ask you to suspend your wariness. I won’t harm you. I haven’t harmed anyone in decades.”
I stared at him again. Despite the insane numbers he had just mentioned, he only looked the same age as me. There wasn’t a line in his face, nor a single hint of grey against his strawberry blonde hair. But there was a cool cast to his youth: a wisdom and experience which went beyond the surface. An expression like that could only belong to someone who had seen more than I might ever imagine.
“How old are you?” I asked. A part of me dreaded to know the answer.
James cocked an eyebrow. “Much older than the other one of my kind you have met.”
“You saw that, too?”
“Indeed. He certainly was a vicious one, wasn’t he?”
I shuddered. “He tried to kill us.”
“I know,” said James. “Many like us would. But not me.”
“What else did you see?”
“That you are in the rather unique position of accepting vampires. Your best friends, namely. That’s why I hoped I could speak to you, man to man. It’s been so long since I’ve had that opportunity.”
“Since Éva, you mean?”
For a moment, James’s face was unreadable. Then he turned his attention over the lake, and let out a sigh from the depths of his lungs.
“But I have lived, and have not lived in vain,” he said. “You want to know why I chose to take her name? I did it to honour her and what she stood for. I wanted to keep her alive in some way. I hoped her line had managed to endure, but I didn’t know. Not until last night, when I met you.”
Suddenly, it all made sense.
“You loved her, didn’t you?” I whispered.
A muscle twitched in James’s cheek.
“I’ve hated many, and loved only a rare few. She was one of them. There will never be another like her. I’ll hold to that until the Earth stops turning.”
I took a step forward so I could see him better, but he still didn’t look at me. His eyes glazed over; focused on something far away, and long ago. For a moment, he seemed like an old man trapped in a young body.
“Your hair would curl if you knew the darkness she endured,” he continued. “But you see, through it all, despite it all, she was determined to make good. To leave a ray of sunshine even as the night sought to swallow her. In my own way, though I cannot know that sunshine again, I’ve endeavoured to draw close to it, for as long as I can. She taught me a valuable lesson. She came into my life for a heartbeat, and then she was gone. But in that brief time – a single drop in the well of eternity – she was my redemption. She rescued me by destroying me. I never had but one sweetheart, and in cold grave she was lain.”
He glanced at his hands. Then, finally, he turned to me again. His eyes glistened with tears.
“Would you like to hear the story, Michael?” he asked. “Not just hers, but mine? Would you want to know everything?”
I licked my lips nervously. The cold was biting down to my bones. A chill wind blew from the north and raked its icy fingers through my hair.
I thought of Emily, alone in the suite; of Frank and Bianka, and the strength we had all found in each other. Then, I remembered standing with Frank in the kitchen just a couple of days ago, looking at my family tree; at the black lines of ink which connected every name.
“Yes, please,” I said.
James smiled again. It wasn’t something cruel or mocking, but open and thankful.
“Come,” he said quietly, and led me along the path by the lakeside. “It all began in a backstreet in Whitechapel, on February 20th, 1769. Exactly two hundred and fifty years ago, tonight. How ironically apt.”
*
I staggered under the foyer lights and up the stairs. I clung to the banister like a lifeline. I barely felt it under my palm, or the thud of my shoes on the carpet, or the shivers which wracked my body.
My head was swimming with all James had told me. Two and a half centuries of shadow and blood; his path woven with so many others; all the things he had seen and done. He had survived experimentation, befriended Lord Byron, began the Ripper murders in London. A life of pain: both his own, and that which he had caused countless people, only to be saved by one woman who refused to be broken.
I let myself into the suite. Emily heard the door opening and flew out of the bathroom.
“Where did you go?” she asked. “I was looking everywhere! You didn’t take your phone! I’ve been worried sick!”
I pulled her into a hug, so tight, I knocked the breath from her lungs.
“Michael?” she said. “What is it? Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
“You aren’t going to believe what just happened.”
She peered up at me, and I realised that, once again, she’d put the locket back on.
“Are you going to tell me?”
“Yeah, I will. I just… I need a minute. Jesus Christ, Em. Sorry, I’m… I didn’t mean to be gone so long. But I’m fine. Everything is fine.”
She wriggled free, and pulled me over to the bed. The bag of gifts lay at the footboard, exactly where we’d left it.
Logic grappled for purchase in my mind. I snatched it; tried to use it to anchor myself.
“We need to call Frank and Bee,” I said.
Emily’s face instantly changed. “Yes, I know.”
I looked at her. “Why? What’s the matter?”
She swallowed, then walked to the sideboard. On top of it was a pile of torn wrapping paper and a wooden box, fastened with an ornate clasp. Emily fetched it and sat beside me.
“I know I should have waited for you,” she said, “but I started thinking about how they gave us this, how serious they were. Curiosity got the better of me. I haven’t opened it. I don’t know what’s inside. But this was with it.”
She produced a couple of sheets of paper. The topmost one was covered in a series of dots, swirls and lines, with the alphabet running alongside it. The second was a normal letter, written in Frank’s hand.
My head was swimming with all James had told me. Two and a half centuries of shadow and blood; his path woven with so many others; all the things he had seen and done. He had survived experimentation, befriended Lord Byron, began the Ripper murders in London. A life of pain: both his own, and that which he had caused countless people, only to be saved by one woman who refused to be broken.
I let myself into the suite. Emily heard the door opening and flew out of the bathroom.
“Where did you go?” she asked. “I was looking everywhere! You didn’t take your phone! I’ve been worried sick!”
I pulled her into a hug, so tight, I knocked the breath from her lungs.
“Michael?” she said. “What is it? Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
“You aren’t going to believe what just happened.”
She peered up at me, and I realised that, once again, she’d put the locket back on.
“Are you going to tell me?”
“Yeah, I will. I just… I need a minute. Jesus Christ, Em. Sorry, I’m… I didn’t mean to be gone so long. But I’m fine. Everything is fine.”
She wriggled free, and pulled me over to the bed. The bag of gifts lay at the footboard, exactly where we’d left it.
Logic grappled for purchase in my mind. I snatched it; tried to use it to anchor myself.
“We need to call Frank and Bee,” I said.
Emily’s face instantly changed. “Yes, I know.”
I looked at her. “Why? What’s the matter?”
She swallowed, then walked to the sideboard. On top of it was a pile of torn wrapping paper and a wooden box, fastened with an ornate clasp. Emily fetched it and sat beside me.
“I know I should have waited for you,” she said, “but I started thinking about how they gave us this, how serious they were. Curiosity got the better of me. I haven’t opened it. I don’t know what’s inside. But this was with it.”
She produced a couple of sheets of paper. The topmost one was covered in a series of dots, swirls and lines, with the alphabet running alongside it. The second was a normal letter, written in Frank’s hand.
Dear Emily and Michael,
Contained in this box is the most invaluable, heartfelt present we can ever give you. A long time ago, a family in Germany decided to begin looking into the science of vampirism. It’s far from exact, but despite our good intentions, neither of us are capable of doing anything, save keeping it locked away.
It deserves more than that, and Em, you have your medical degrees. You’ll soon be a doctor, just like the pioneers who brought forth so much knowledge. You and Michael are also among the few humans who not only know of vampires, but accept them. Because of this, we both feel you are the best people to carry this legacy forward.
I have included a full transcript for you, completely decoded and translated into English, as well as a chart of the code, in case you want to check anything in its original form. And, of course, we will always be here to help you, should you want this.
As with all things regarding vampirism, the choice is yours.
With all our love, F & B.
Contained in this box is the most invaluable, heartfelt present we can ever give you. A long time ago, a family in Germany decided to begin looking into the science of vampirism. It’s far from exact, but despite our good intentions, neither of us are capable of doing anything, save keeping it locked away.
It deserves more than that, and Em, you have your medical degrees. You’ll soon be a doctor, just like the pioneers who brought forth so much knowledge. You and Michael are also among the few humans who not only know of vampires, but accept them. Because of this, we both feel you are the best people to carry this legacy forward.
I have included a full transcript for you, completely decoded and translated into English, as well as a chart of the code, in case you want to check anything in its original form. And, of course, we will always be here to help you, should you want this.
As with all things regarding vampirism, the choice is yours.
With all our love, F & B.
Emily and I glanced at each other in confusion. She turned to the box, carefully opened the lid, and eased back the silk lining.
A book lay inside, yellowed and battered, its stained leather cover crossed with cracks, like a dry riverbed. On the front, in faded gilt, were two words.
A book lay inside, yellowed and battered, its stained leather cover crossed with cracks, like a dry riverbed. On the front, in faded gilt, were two words.
DIE GIFT
And a twelvemonth and day did pass; the ghost did rise and speak.
Oh, who sits upon my grave, and will not let me sleep?
‘Tis I, ‘tis I, your one true love, for a twelvemonth and a day.
One kiss from your dear lips, sweetheart; one kiss is all I pray.
My breast is cold as the clay, my breath is earthly strong;
And if you kiss my cold clay lips, your days will not be long.
'Twas down in Cupid's Garden, where you and I would walk.
The fairest flower that ever I saw has withered to a stalk.
The stalk is withered dry, sweetheart; the flower will ne'er return.
And since I lost my one true love, what can I do but mourn?
When will we meet again, sweetheart? When will we meet again?
When the autumn leaves that fall from trees
Are green and spring up again.
And a twelvemonth and day did pass; the ghost did rise and speak.
Oh, who sits upon my grave, and will not let me sleep?
‘Tis I, ‘tis I, your one true love, for a twelvemonth and a day.
One kiss from your dear lips, sweetheart; one kiss is all I pray.
My breast is cold as the clay, my breath is earthly strong;
And if you kiss my cold clay lips, your days will not be long.
'Twas down in Cupid's Garden, where you and I would walk.
The fairest flower that ever I saw has withered to a stalk.
The stalk is withered dry, sweetheart; the flower will ne'er return.
And since I lost my one true love, what can I do but mourn?
When will we meet again, sweetheart? When will we meet again?
When the autumn leaves that fall from trees
Are green and spring up again.