shadows and stones - an original fiction series of gothic, horror, dark fantasy

My first hint that something other than my sojourn into the cellar happened last night comes when I arrive in the kitchen for breakfast. Only one place has been set at the table. The tall glass of orange juice beside the plate proves it is mine; Rath drinks tea. His absence this morning, when I know he was in the house last night, is very odd.

Slipping into my seat, I grab for one of the still-hot rolls. An assortment of marmalades and jams is spread before me, but as usual I slather a thick spread of peanut butter on each steaming half. Only after I’ve chewed and swallowed my first bite do I ask Ursula, who is busy at the stove, about Rath.

“Did Rath eat already?”

At first she doesn’t answer. Behind me I hear the rattle of a kettle lid and the scraping of her knife on the cutting board. Finally, the cooking noises stop and heavy footsteps approach. Pulling out the chair beside me, Ursula settles in it with a sigh. Her expression is a mixture of concern and frustration.

“Last night, some time just after midnight, Melanie called me to come back here. When I arrived I found Master Rath was in extreme distress – almost physically ill.” At first I react with shock to Ursula’s news, then I remember Melanie’s harsh words and the sting of her hand striking my face. It was just after midnight. The roll falls from my hand as a wave of weakness, brought on by guilt, rushes over me. It’s quickly replaced by anger.

“I don’t experience emotions for his vicarious pleasure. If he doesn’t like it he can damn well stop eavesdropping on my feelings.”

“Don’t you think he would if he could?” I have never seen Ursula so angry before. She pounds the table to emphasis her words. “Eva, you are no longer thousands of miles away from him, you are in the same house. I do not claim to understand how or why he can sense what you feel, but I do know it is not something he can turn off and on like a lamp. It is as though you were shouting at the top of your lungs in the center of the house. He cannot avoid hearing you – unless he leaves.”

“Leaves?”

“Martin drove him to London last night.” Martin? Rath must have been pretty bad if he needed Ursula’s husband to take the wheel. “Brigid and Hannah went as well.”

“Hannah?” Oh, God, it never occurred to me that she might feel my emotions, too.

“Brigid said Hannah was unable to sleep, tossing about as though upset. Generally she does not appear to be as sensitive as Master Rath; however, he decided not to take any chances.” After giving me time to let the implications of her words sink in, Ursula gently takes my hand. “Eva, won’t you tell me what is wrong? Things cannot continue like this, you are tearing the household apart.”

I fight back guilty tears. “I don’t mean to hurt him.”

“Of course you don’t, child, and he knows that. But that is precisely why you should give us all a chance to help you when you are in trouble.” Her words are so kind – I don’t deserve them. Part of me wants desperately to break down and tell her the truth. “I promise I will not tell Master Rath if that is what’s holding you back.”

“I can’t, Urs.” I can barely whisper the words my throat is so tight. If I stay here a moment longer I will tell her – and endanger everything. Once Ursula knows I plan to mess with vampires, she’s sure to tell Rath, despite her promise. Hating vampires as much as he does, Rath will probably destroy Iain rather than allow me to resurrect him. Jerking my hand away, I jump from my chair, running to the door. “I’m sorry, Urs, but I just can’t.”

Before she can say anything more, before my resolve can fail, I bolt out the front door, launching myself into the air. Aimlessly, I fly in the form of a raven, trying to lose my guilt in the rhythm of wings beating air. I let the instinct of the shape take over. Soon my thoughts are cleared of everything except the sensation of currents ruffling through my feathers. Only the advent of rain brings me back to reality. Below me I spot a small village.

Taking care to remain unwitnessed, I land behind some hedges before returning to my own shape. A glance at my watch shows me I’ve been flying for almost two hours. I wonder where I am.

The lane beside the hedges is empty of travelers, so I slip out, heading into the village. At the only pub I stop for some lunch and information. According to what the pub keeper tells me, it seems I wasn’t flying as aimlessly as I thought. The name of this village was on the map I studied last night while tracing Iain’s directions. Only a short distance from here is the vampires'lair.

The many curious glances and stares being aimed in my direction are making me nervous, so I don’t stay long in the pub or the village. It isn’t every day, I suppose, that an American girl comes walking barefoot out of nowhere to stop for a bite to eat. Walking down an unpaved side street towards the nearby fields, I swear I can feel eyes watching my every move. With relief I reach the shelter of a stand of trees.

Making certain no one has followed me, I once more take raven form and head straight for the lair. There’s no point in returning to the house when I’m so close; besides, I’d rather not face Ursula or Melanie right now. Stifling the new surge of guilt, I concentrate on where I’m going.

Landmarks are hard to see from the air, so I fly low to the ground, following roadways and lanes I memorized from Iain’s directions and the map. Soon, I see a shabby cottage at the end of an unpaved lane. Settling in a tree to survey the landscape, I make out the cottage’s inhabitants working diligently in a nearby field and garden. A middle-aged couple, they look content on their lands. According to Iain’s directions, the lair is down the hill behind the cottage, out of sight of its windows and garden.

Wearily, I make the short flight to the private cemetery at the base of the hill. An enormous oak tree shades a large portion of the grounds, so I roost within its branches, waiting for nightfall. Iain told me a distant ancestor of the current cottagers created this cemetery – not so much to house his family’s earthly remains, as to hide the vampire lair he created beneath his own home. He wanted immortality and got it in exchange for the safe haven. I wondered if the man who built it was Simon, but Iain didn’t know. He’d only heard a small part of the story.

For now, I remain in raven form, watching the cemetery for any sign of activity as the day wears on. At some point in time, I doze off – dangerous, since I can lose my assumed shape if my concentration wavers. Fortunately, my control must be getting better; I’m still a raven when I wake hours later as another rainstorm soaks me. With the cloud cover, it’s hard to be certain, but I think only a little time remains until nightfall. Good, I want to get this over with.

Eventually, a movement beside a small mausoleum catches my eye. From Iain’s description, I’m sure it is the entrance. My suspicions are confirmed when a slender, pale figure slips out from the open door. Faster than I imagined possible, the vampire races into the darkness, heading in the direction of the village.

Fleetingly, I pray everyone is safely indoors – then I fly down from my tree. Back in my own shape, I find the vampire conveniently left the door open. No need for them to worry about security in such an isolated region. If anyone were foolish enough to enter the mausoleum, I doubt they would ever come out again. Why, then am I tempting fate by doing so myself? I could turn around, go home, and no one would ever know I chickened out. Except me, every time I look at Iain, or if I have to kill him.

Swallowing my fear, I step inside. The darkness inside is like ink. Shaping a cat’s eyes, I pick up any trace of illumination. Now I can see a stairway descending beneath the floor. A sarcophagus has been pushed aside to reveal it.

I know if I can manage the first step, the rest will be easy, but my legs refuse to move. Iain’s plea for death echoes in my heart suddenly. I move forward. Thirteen steps – I count them – lead me down to a dimly lit corridor. The floor, which I expected to be dirt, is actually paved with precisely cut stones fitted with not even a hair width space between them. The stones feel smooth and cool to my bare feet as I move forward with growing confidence. A damp, earthy smell reaches me within a few paces, and I realize I have made a terrible mistake.

Stones may line the floor, walls, and ceiling; oil lamps may flicker here and there to provide illumination, and the occasional framed picture may give the illusion that I’m within a house, but that’s all it is – an illusion. Above, below, and all around me is earth, pressing inexorably against the innermost cells of my body. Falling to my knees, I gasp for air, fighting to control my rising panic.

How can I have forgotten, earth is my one weakness? I knew from Iain’s story the lair was below ground. Have I been so engrossed in my mission to save him that I forgot entering here could kill me? Despite the air’s chill, sweat breaks out across my forehead. I have to get out of here. My hands tremble as I cling to the wall for support. Taking slow, deep breaths, I gather strength enough to stand. Before I can turn to leave, however, someone…something joins me in the corridor.

With only Iain’s descriptions to go by, I expected the vampires to look like ordinary human beings, albeit more pale. This one shatters my assumption. Its skin has a transparent paleness; my eyes want to see through it as though it were a ghost, but the walls behind remain invisible. Stringy, matted hair bunches around its bony shoulders, while sunken eyes glare at me with hunger and fear. I can’t even tell if the vampire is male or female, its form is so wasted.

We stare at each other, both of us obviously unsure of what to do. I long to retreat, but doing so means turning my back on this thing. If it moves with anything near the swiftness of the first one I saw, I’ll never reach the exit before it’s on me. While I’m reasonably sure a vampire bite can’t harm me, I’m not eager to learn the truth. Silently, I curse myself for being so hasty – I’ve entered the vampire lair unarmed, not even a wooden stake or garlic to protect myself with. This isn’t a movie; the hero won’t show up to rescue me from my stupidity. Rath is far away in London; if the vampires injure, me he’ll never know.

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of my neck go stiff. I haven’t heard anything, despite straining with all the senses of a feline, yet I’m positive there is something behind me. Risking a glance backwards, I find I’m now trapped; the first vampire has returned from his hunt. A wild hare jerks helplessly in his grip while he stares at me, as shocked as the other vampire to find a mortal inside their lair. Surrounded, I know I can’t back down now – no matter how much the earth presses in around me, escape is not an option.

Breathing deeply, I pull myself together, standing straight and confident. Should the vampires sense my fear, they will attack immediately – a risk I don’t care to take. Making sure my back is to the wall for defense, I manage a line of sight on them. They haven’t moved, so I take control by being the first to speak.

“Take me to Romany,” I demand. The vampires continue staring. Their fear, I realize, may well be greater than my own. I take advantage of this fear, and their confusion. As though dealing with an errant child, I inhale deeply and shout with all my lung power.

“NOW!”

My tactic has the desired affect; the vampire in front of me lets loose with a terrified scream, then races back the way it came. Behind me, the second vampire whimpers, but retains his hold on the still struggling hare. Cautiously, he moves around me, leaving a good yard between us at all times. With his free hand, he gestures for me to follow, then bolts. Fortunately, I move swiftly. Keeping him in sight is easy, as I chase at a run.

The lair is a maze, one corridor turns into another and then another. I try not to think of how far and deep I’m traveling, try not to dwell on the possibility I may not find my way out. For now, I need to focus on where the vampire is leading me, and on suppressing the earth fear which is crushing me. Dozens of doors line the route, all of them closed. Sometimes, I catch bits and pieces of sounds from beyond the doors, proving they lead to occupied rooms. Finally, when I feel I must have run far enough be back at Rath’s house, the last corridor terminates at an open chamber.

No. Chamber is the wrong word. It’s more like an enormous natural cavern converted into a gathering place. Elaborate tapestries hang on the walls and handsome furniture is arranged in conversational groupings throughout, some of them even occupied by pale couples. To my surprise, music from the BBC radio channel echoes off the walls and distant ceiling. At least in this place, my fear of the earth is ebbing somewhat – so much spaciousness gives me a false feeling of security.

My guide has disappeared with his hare, but I don’t look for him. Another vampire is approaching. She is as different from the previous two as can be possible. In fact, she is quite striking. Black leather pants look spray painted onto her long legs, and she walks in stiletto-heeled boots as though they were part of her body. What passes for her shirt is a scrap of lightly patterned lace, leaving nothing beneath it to the imagination. A corona of black hair is teased out around her head. Even in the dim light I recognize the color as “bottle black”, a shade favored by a lot of girls back in high school. Unlike most of those girls, this one wears it well, the color setting off the menace in her icy blue eyes.

A few feet away, she stops, adopting a power stance: feet spread, fists resting on hips. I can’t match her “evil demon” look, so I don’t try.

Instead, I take a casual stance, weight on one leg, arms crossed, expression bored. Bluster won’t work on this woman, whereas indifference might. Oddly enough, I’m not afraid of her although she is obviously the most powerful vampire here. Once again, I start the conversation to get the upper hand.

“Romany, I presume?”

Rather than answer, the vampire breaks her pose, moving around me, examining me like a shopper checking out merchandise. I remain still, letting her slip out of my sight as she circles behind. Resurfacing to my right, she resumes her stance in front of me.

“You must be the wolf girl who lives with the shaper.” I don’t let my surprise at her knowledge show. The vampires must be watching us closely. “Are you his current mistress?” Romany puts a lot of emphasis on the word “current”. Is this how she takes power then, by insinuations?

“I’m his sister.” I use a nonchalant tone of voice to show her question doesn’t disturb me.

“As if that makes some sort of difference to him. Then again, you’re probably too skinny for his tastes.” Romany waits for a reaction, but I don’t give her one. My imperviousness annoys her. She gestures sharply, and another of the vampires comes forward, like a butler, carrying a single glass of wine on a silver tray. Taking the glass, Romany offers it to me. “Care for a drink?”

I accept the offer, trying to start things off on a positive note; I should have known better. Warmth from the liquid passes through the glass to my fingers. Examining the contents, I realize it isn’t wine at all. My first impulse is to throw the grotesque offering into Romany’s face, but that would be a mistake. Instead, I toss the glass aside with a casual motion. Striking the ground, it shatters, spreading its contents and glass fragments everywhere.

I win another round of the game; the annoyance in Romany’s eyes deepens. “You shouldn’t waste rare vintages like that,” she snarls.

“Too course for my palate.” I don’t know crap about wines, but I remember the phrase from a commercial. I’m sure Romany knows even less than I do. Meanwhile, other members of the pack, first slowly, then rapidly, as they realize Romany is not noticing them, cluster around the spilt blood, licking it like dogs off the stone floor, oblivious to the pieces of glass they are ingesting as well. The sight fills me with nausea, which I struggle not to show.

Romany, on the other hand, gestures once more to the vampire butler. Immediately, he scampers off to another room. When he returns this time the glass he carries is empty. To my horror, however, the butler is not alone; his free hand grasps the wrist of a man – a man I know. It would seem that Rath and my gesture of mercy, so many months ago, was anything but. Instead of returning to his home in America, Wolfgang Dieter has somehow become a prisoner of the vampires.

The change in him is significant. Gone is the arrogant posing and the calculated stud wear. His shirtless arms are covered in healed scars while recent scabs pattern his skin from shoulders to naval. Have they all been feasting on him, I wonder, or is this Romany’s work alone?

Taking both the empty glass and Dieter’s wrist from the butler, Romany turns her attention to her victim. Despite the fact that there are neither chains, nor ropes, nor any means of restraint visible on him, Dieter stands as docile as a cow. It takes only a single look at his eyes to understand why. Adoration and fear fill them completely, as he keeps them focused on every move Romany makes. She, on the other hand, treats him as casually as she would a milk carton.

Using her thumbnail, Romany deftly slices open the center of Wolfgang’s palm. He doesn’t even flinch. Blood slowly wells up from the wound. Turning his hand so the blood will drain directly into her glass, Romany then releases her grip on his wrist. She must have been squeezing it like a tourniquet, the blood now pours like water out of Dieter’s palm. Through it all, he stands without motion. Only his eyes tracking her movements show he is conscious.

As the glass fills with blood, I feel my face go pale. Romany, watching me from the corner of her eyes, smiles. No doubt she is pleased to have finally gained a reaction from me. Somehow, I manage to force a yawn, giving myself a chance to regroup internally. I can’t let her gain on me if I’m going to succeed.

When the glass is half full, Romany barks, “Enough.” Like a trained dog, Wolfgang reacts immediately to her command, using his free hand to put pressure on the wound, stemming the flow. Around us the other pack members whine desperately. A single glance from Romany silences them, however. With a final gesture she dismisses the butler and Dieter whom the pack follow as they exit the cavernous room. I am alone with Romany.

Like a connoisseur, she holds the glass to the nearby light, checking its color, then swirling it beneath her nose to sniff the bouquet. Another performance for my benefit, I’m sure. Finally, bringing the glass to her lips, she drinks deeply, draining half the contents. Her eyes close as she swallows, then runs her tongue around her lips to catch the excess.

“Ahhhhhhh.” Looking over at me, Romany smiles. “Not the best, really, but still quite refreshing.”

I decide not to let her control the situation any longer. “I need information from you, Romany.”

“From me? Pray tell, what can a lowly undead like myself possibly have to share with you?”

“How can a vampire be made whole again if its body has been destroyed?” Her reaction is a fascinating one. Though her eyes are slender, almost oriental, she manages to narrow them further. The smile she has been favoring me with slowly disintegrates.

“Why? Can’t your brother tell you?”

“This has nothing to do with him. I’m asking you.”

Suddenly, Romany’s eyes open wide; somehow, she has guessed, or thinks she has guessed, what I have planned. “Soooooooo, he wasn’t completely destroyed by the shaper,” she murmurs. Then, louder, she asks, “Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for that little Scottish boy I sent a while back?”

I swear I haven’t moved a muscle, but somehow she sees confirmation on me. Echoes ricochet off the walls as Romany erupts in loud laughter. Against my will, a blush creeps onto my face; Romany just laughs louder. Eventually she controls herself, wiping rose colored tears away from her eyes.

“How absolutely exquisite. And here I thought he’d been turned into so much fertilizer, like the rest of the useless brats I’ve sent. Tell me, wolf girl, did you fall for his Gaelic charm right away? Did the little burr in his voice make you wet yourself in anticipation?”

“Just answer me,” I force the words through gritted teeth, barely controlling the urge to shape-shift and tear her throat out.

“Oh, you are precious, aren’t you?” Romany is delighted with the passion she imagines me feeling. Remembering her drink, she finishes off the contents, making a slight grimace as she swallows. “Cold,” she mutters, leaving the empty glass on a nearby table. “But where were we, darling? Oh, yes, you want me to tell you how to make a partial vampire whole again. You want information.” Again, she laughs.

“You’ve entered the lair of the vampires unarmed and unaccompanied, just to learn how to bring another vampire back. Really, this is much more fun than I thought I’d have this evening.”

“If you don’t know, then just tell me, and I’ll leave.”

Suddenly, the laughter slips away and Romany is deadly serious. “Oh, I know how to do it, wolf girl. I’d be a poor leader if I didn’t. But you know the old saying: you can’t get something for nothing. What are you planning on giving me?”

Momentarily, I go cold. This was something I hadn’t anticipated, though on reflection I should have. After all, the vampires have no reason to tell me anything, and many reasons to hate me and my kind.

“What do you want?” I’m sure I already know the answer, and I dread it.

“Mmmmmm, so much possibility in such a small question. What do I want?” Romany makes a production out of pondering the question, pacing back and forth, while pretending to contemplate a spot on the ceiling. “Really, we have everything a vampire could want right here: safe shelter, plenty of food, all the comforts of home …” I try not to show my impatience as she continues listing things that she doesn’t need from me.

“I know,” she finally announces, moving to stand beside me. “I’ll tell you how to give your little friend a body, if you let me have that delicious brother of yours for a single night.”

“What?” I can’t hide my shock; this was not what I expected.

“Haven’t you ever seen him naked, wolf-girl? Those beautiful, firm muscles, that skin as soft as suede, and those other…accoutrements…. Guaranteed to please. How can you live in that house and never long to have him?” She laughs at what must be a look of sheer horror on my face. Can what she’s implying be true? Has she been with Rath before? As if reading my mind, Romany nods. “Oh, yes, wolf girl, I know your brother very, very well. Another night with him is something I’d sell my soul for – if I still had one.”

“I already told you, he isn’t involved in this. Even if I wanted to…” I can’t get the words to describe what she wants out of my mouth. “Even if I wanted, I couldn’t make him come near a vampire. You’re on your own if you want him.”

“Liar.” Romany actually touches me before I can react, running her finger and razor sharp nail down the side of my face. I feel the scrape, but no real pain, only the icy chill of her skin. “But I don’t blame you for wanting him to yourself. I would too.”

“I don’t sleep with my brother, bitch.”

“Of course not,” she purrs. I need to get out of here before she pushes me any further, and I do something I’ll regret.

“Name another price,” I demand.

“Well, if you’re positive you can’t get me your brother?” A low growl is my answer to her question. “Then bring me the head of Simon.” Finally, this is what I expected.

“It isn’t mine to give.”

“Well, you’d better make it yours.” Now it’s Romany’s turn to snarl; the game has come to an end between us; she is deadly serious. “And don’t think I’ll wait forever. Bring me the head in two hours, or not even a night with your brother will buy the information.”

“And if I decide the information isn’t worth the price?”

“Then next time one of us catches you alone in the dark, you’ll wish you’d never come here at all.”

“You can’t kill me.”

“True, but I can make you suffer for a very long time.”

“Not before Rath tears you into little pieces.” Romany backs down. She knows I hold the upper hand in a war of threats, so long as Rath is on my side. The vampires may not fear me, but he is another matter entirely. Showing more bravery than I actually feel, I turn my back on her, sauntering towards the door through which I’d entered.

“If I return with his head,” I call over my shoulder, “I’ll be outside beneath the large oak tree.”

“Why not in here? Afraid we might get you?”

“Hardly. I don’t like the smell.”

As I leave the cavernous room and enter the corridor again, I instantly sense the crush of earth around me. For several precious seconds panic overtakes me; I can’t breath, can’t inhale. Sweat drips onto the stones as I fight to control the fear. I’ve got to move away from the room, and Romany, as quickly as possible, but I’m immobile. Desperately, I pound my right hand onto the rough, stone wall. The impact gives me a burning skin scrape along the knuckles. Pain allows me to snap the panic; I run forward into the corridor.

There are no guidelines or landmarks to help me find my way to the exit. New corridors branch periodically, but I have no idea which, if any, I should take. Everything here is a maze. Just when the panic rises to paralyze me again, I see a lone vampire enter the corridor, not far ahead. Before he even knows I’m there, his scrawny arm is trapped in my grasp.

“Show me the way out of here, or so help me God, I’ll tear your head off!” Keeping a firm grip on his arm, I’m prepared to carry out my threat at the first sign he is deceiving me. Whimpering, he does as I demand, fear making him honest. Soon I feel drafts of cool, fresh air coming towards me. The walls look increasingly familiar, then I see the stairs at the end of the corridor. Releasing my terrified guide, I allow him to escape back into the lair. Racing up the thirteen steps, I cry out in relief when I see the door is still open.

In raven form, I explode into the clear night air. For now the rains appear to have ended; the moon shows through a gap in the clouds. Relief gives me the strength to fly home at incredible speed. When the house is in sight, however, I plummet to the earth, resuming my own shape as soon as my feet touch ground. For the next ten minutes, I lie there, vomiting what little remains in my stomach, and enduring dry heaves after it is empty.

“Oh, God, what can I do?”

I look at my watch. Flying from the lair to the house took almost 30 minutes, leaving me little time to make my decision if I’m going to bring Romany the head. Minutes tick by as I argue with myself, endlessly repeating all of the reasons why I shouldn’t do it, and all the reasons why I should.

If I give her Simon’s head, I’ll be betraying Rath. “Oh, God, he’ll be so angry,” I mumble aloud. But what could he do to me? Throw me out? I can always return to Denver. So Rath wouldn’t have his pet head to torture anymore, so what? I’m sure somewhere in his rooms he has Simon’s ashes hidden, safe from the other vampires’ hands – what good will having the head do them?

“None at all,” I whisper, as if saying it aloud will make it more true. If I don’t give Romany Simon’s head, she’ll never tell me how to help Iain. From where I sit, I can see the windows of my room. Beyond them is the hiding space where Iain is probably awake. Is he waiting for me? Waiting for me to show up and kill him? Without Romany’s help, I won’t have an excuse anymore; I’ll have to honor my promise and kill him.

“Why did I even think I had a choice?”

In precisely ten minutes, I’m in the cellar, opening Simon’s box. “You again,” he snarls. I don’t give him a chance to say more. Roughly, I stuff him into a pillowcase. From within he curses. I ignore him. On my way out of the cellar, I grab one of the torches that line the stairwell. For the first time, I’m thankful Rath has such a sense of the dramatic. Cutting through the kitchen, I grab a box of matches, tucking them in my pocket.

Running out the back door, I head for the barn, which has been converted into a garage. There is no time for me to fly, nor could I, carrying the heavy head, so I take one of the small cars instead. Fortunately, crime is virtually unknown in this area – the keys are in the ignition. I floor the car as soon as the engine catches, leaving deep tire tracks in the damp earth.

Based on the map I traced, I’ll be cutting it close to the time limit. Then again, this late at night there isn’t much traffic; I push the car to its maximum speeds on the narrow country roads. Simon has fallen silent in the bag beside me; he must have finally realized something unusual is going on.

Eventually, I see the cottage up ahead. All of the lights are out, the occupants having retired at a decent hour. Good, I don’t want innocents getting involved in this. A mile from the cottage, I park the car. Before I grab the pillowcase with Simon, I strike a match lighting the torch – I won’t be unarmed this time when I meet with Romany.

I’ve managed to make it with five minutes to spare, but Romany and the pack are already waiting beside the designated tree. The lesser vampires hiss at the sight of my flaming torch, and even Romany backs a step or two away.

“You don’t need any light, wolf girl, it isn’t that dark.”

“Who said I’m using it for light?” I stop about three feet away from her, and hold up the bag. “Simon’s head, as ordered. Now tell me what I want to know.”

“All I see is a bag, wolf girl. How do I know it’s really him?”

Since she has a point, I give her what she wants. Squatting, I upend the bag, letting Simon’s head roll out against my feet. Immediately, he starts cursing, so I give him a not-so-friendly nudge with my foot, uprighting him.

“Now, tell me what I want to know.”

“Let me have him first,” she hisses.

“Give me a break. Do you think I’m that stupid?” I back a step away from the head, then lower the flaming torch to within inches of it. I’m sure Simon must be feeling the intense heat, but he doesn’t make a sound. The pack, on the other hand, cry in distress at the sight; even Romany flinches. “It’s my turn to give ultimatums, Romany. Tell me what I want to know or we find out how fast an old vampire head will turn to ashes. You have five minutes.”

“Little bitch.”

“Make that three minutes.” A spark drops into the grass, narrowly missing Simon’s hair. Someone in the pack shrieks.

“Fine!” Romany is furious at having her hand forced. Good. “If you don’t have the real body, then you’ll have to find another one – a fresh one, dead no more than fifteen minutes. Put the vampire head where the corpse’ head has been and soak the joining with blood. After a full 24 hours, he’ll be whole again. Now give me the head!”

“A fresh body?”

“Of course, you idiot. Did you think you could do it without killing someone? At least two people will have to die, one for the head, and one to supply enough blood for the joining. And before you think you’ve got an alternative, forget it. Animal blood won’t do – it isn’t strong enough.” Romany calculates for a moment, then gestures to someone in the darkness behind her. Two vampires come forward, dragging a struggling Wolfgang Dieter between them. “I’ll be generous with you, wolf girl, take this one for your body – his blood is too thin for anything else.”

“No, please, no,” Wolfgang shrieks. Somehow, he manages to pull loose from the vampires holding him, but instead of running for safety he throws himself at Romany’s feet. “Please, Mistress, please don't send me away, drink from me, please.” Kneeling, Wolfgang bares his throat for her, like a dog submitting to its alpha.

Romany looks down on him, disgust curling her lip. “No, on reflection you aren't even worth using as a body.” She turns to the pack, snapping her fingers. “Take him.”

I scream as they pounce on Wolfgang. In a split second his body is buried beneath a roiling mass of creatures. I'm reminded of a film I saw of piranha feeding. Before I can move to help, the vampires melt back into the darkness. Every visible inch of Wolfgang's body has been torn by their teeth, but not a drop of blood shows anywhere. I may have disliked him when he was alive, but he didn't deserve such a horrible ending.

“You didn't have to do that,” I scream.

“Give me the head, wolf girl. I've fulfilled my end of the bargain.”

“Take it!” I played soccer in high school; I have a damn good kick.

Simon’s head flies into the air, arcing far into the darkness beyond the cemetery. Shrieks and howls of anger are all around, but the pack ignores me as they race to recover their leader’s head. Only Romany and Dieter remain, she glaring at me in hatred, he silent in death.

I drop the torch, shaping a raven once more, and retreating towards the stars. Part of me wishes I could have at least rescued Dieter’s body, leaving it behind shames me. As I fly away, however, I realize I have a deeper cause for shame and guilt – I just made an irreparable mistake.

Return to part iii: baptism
Continue to part v: mortification

�

episode i: journey into darkness - episode ii: tea party - episode iii: awakening
episode iv: the book of grief - episode v: paterfamilias - episode vi: breaking points
episode vii: the dark of the mind - episode viii: decisions
episode ix: momentary distractions - episode x: exorcising demons i
episode xi: porcelain visions - episode xii: the nature of jackals
episode xiii: exorcising demons ii - episode xiv: the invitation
episode xv: body & soul - episode xvi: mothering sunday
episode xvii: imbalance of power - episode xviii: interlude
episode xix: between life and death

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