After Dark (The Vampire Next Door Book 2) (15 page)

“Look—”

“You knew you would outlive her. You always knew that.”

“Yeah. But why so sudden? It wasn’t fair.”

“She knew you would outlive her. She would want you to go on and be happy again.”

“Let me sleep, will you?”

She left.

Alex was lucky. Lina was strong and young and vital. And she would be for a very long time. He would not have to face letting her go.

And after so many years he could still feel the cold pain. He could still feel the dread of hearing the phone ring, picking it up, getting the call from the hospital.

McMurphy was in one of his good moods again, if anything about him could be called good. Martin watched him in action. How he hated to watch him, yet he could not pull his eyes away. He was on the phone to someone, Martin wasn’t sure who, and he was bragging about picking up three different women in one night at the same bar. He laughed about how stupid they were after a few beers.

Martin could still taste the vomit in his mouth.

Did Rhonda ever get in touch with him?
he wondered. She was probably better off now, anyway, without him.

McMurphy was a mystery to him. What strange forces shaped his heartless self-serving personality? Was his mother a sewer rat and his father a poisonous snake? Or did this slime even have parents? Did he just materialize out of some dark void, come from some alternative reality where all the inhabitants were sociopaths?

And he especially hated the way McMurphy smiled. It was a big, bright, extremely white smile. It seemed pasted onto his face somehow. From McMurphy, Martin learned to really wonder about people who smiled a lot.

Could the man be crazy?

Or maybe he was just a jerk, plain and simple.

No one in the department knew where he came from, or where his family was. No one knew if he even had any family, or what his background was. Most people liked him at first, but not after working with him for a few years.

Some of the younger officers who were nearby listening in on the phone call began to laugh along with McMurphy, and Martin knew he liked that. He liked the admiration. But the few who knew him, really knew him, simply went on with their paperwork, their own phone calls, or whatever.

Did no one in the department, the entire universe, have the guts to just tell the man to shut the hell up? Martin looked at his watch. It was near the end of the day; he decided to leave early.

“What are you?”

“Huh?” he looked up. “What do you mean, ‘what am I?’ You already know. Why even bother to ask.” The ground was cool and felt soft as he knelt on it. “Of course we are not supposed to pick these, but after dark, who’s watching?”

“No,” she continued. “I mean...” But she really didn’t know how to say it. “What are vampires, then, if they are not really undead?”

“I dunno. Just people, I guess, like anyone else.” He rose and handed her a small bunch of white flowers.

She smiled under the glow of the streetlight. “Not possible!”

“What isn’t possible?”

“You’re not just people, like anyone else!”

“Hey. We pay taxes, lady. We work for a living; we put up with dumb resort tourists overpopulating the landscape every year, especially during winter. Yeah, I would say we’re just like anyone else.” He continued to walk and she followed.

“But, but Rick—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

“Where do you all come from? I mean, you’re telling me that you are all really members of this ancient race of people that live off blood.”

“Well, yeah, putting it simply, that’s right.” He wished she would not talk so loudly. The park seemed empty at night, but any bench could be a resting place for a vagrant.

“Okay! Then, what are you all doing in California?”

“I don’t think we’re all in California, some of us might still be over there.”

“Will you please not be so mysterious?”

“I’m not being mysterious. There was once this little village in Russia where my mother’s family lived. There were many families, like ours, living there, in that village. But they had been there so long the people had grown used to them, they had all peacefully coexisted for centuries, intermarrying, doing business together, working together, never made the big deal that people make of it nowadays.”

“So,” she was intrigued. “What happened to the village?”

“War happened, then chaos. My mother’s first husband was killed, in the traditional manner used to kill my people. She doesn’t like to talk about it; none of us do. Then she, my half-brother and half-sister, and several others of our kind, all left the country together. They brought some jewelry with them, a little money, came here, started over. But some stayed. We lost contact with them during World War Two. No word from them since, only silence. They could all be gone now,” and then he remembered the story that Jim Ellison found. Alex had it. He needed to read it.

“Why are you telling me all this?” she continued with her nagging questions and Rick noticed she was getting on his nerves.

“Well, because you ask,” and he found an empty bench and sat, leaned back and let his legs stretch out.

But she would not be silenced. “No! I mean...I always thought...” She stood in front of him and her voice became faster and more anxious. “I had always believed...Maybe everything I always believed about vampires was wrong.”

“Right. Look, those windows in the apartment building above us are all open.”

“So?”

“So, like, whisper. And yes, everything you always believed about vampires is wrong, mostly.”

“Well, I always thought you people would want to live in absolute secrecy. I mean, kill anyone who finds out?”

“You’re not going to start up with that stuff again, are you? Besides, if you told, who would believe you? Not many people, I don’t think. Just keep it quiet, that’s all.”

“I won’t tell. Sorry I talk so loud. You’re right. No one will believe it anyway.”

She sat by his side, but did not look at him. Instead she looked up at the sky, at the glow of the large bright silver moon and the small delicate stars that surrounded it. “I guess it’s good that most people don’t believe in you, then. I mean, that you exist.”

“Definitely. We’ve been living in our own private world for almost a hundred years. What would people do to us if they found out? Butcher us? Or tolerate us? I don’t know. Do you people even realize how deeply we fear you? Your kind?” He slouched, stared down at the dark pavement under his feet. She watched him; he seemed silently lost in thought.

“Why?” she whispered.

“We’re out numbered, by millions. A great, wild, screaming, violent mass of irrational people. You can so easily wipe out every one of us in one day. It’s so terrible to be so outnumbered.” He looked up, watched the stars flash in the cool night sky and was silent. He listened to the slow rhythm of her heart and the quiet breeze that flew past.

She sat by him, gazing at him curiously, and he could feel it.

Pavel watched his surroundings warily. He felt the weight of many people’s stares, and his hand was ready to reach for his sword. He only half listened as the princess explained to her father. Instead he listened for the slightest movement behind him.

She explained that she was kidnapped, held prisoner, and that Pavel helped her escape. But still he watched, and still he was ready to reach for his weapon.

The queen sat by and looked at him curiously, she said nothing.

“Well,” the king roared, “It does seem you two had an adventure! Come, now! Let us all gather in the great hall for a feast!”

And now he wanted to leave even more.

Pavel sat quietly throughout the meal, sipped the small amount of red wine that he could stomach, and made simple polite conversation with those sitting by him. He ate nothing and the king watched him anxiously.

“My daughter tells me of how you easily overwhelmed several armed guardsmen, Pavel! Is this true?”

“They were not alert, Majesty,” he replied quietly.

“But still, they were armed. And how did you manage this, my good friend?”

“I fear the lady exaggerates.”

“Please! Eat something. A warrior needs his strength,” the king laughed heartily, as though something was amusing to him.

Pavel stared down into his plate. “Forgive me, I am not hungry.”

“Is it not to your liking? Or shall I have the cook drain a young pig?”

Pavel looked around warily; most did not seem to comprehend. Slowly, he reached down to his boot for his dagger.

“I did not know there were any of you left,” the king’s tone grew serious, and the people’s voices hushed. “No, do not be troubled. Whatever it is you need, you shall have it. For now.”

He slipped his dagger back into his boot and smiled grimly. “Then so be it. But I prefer lamb.”

The fair haired woman at his right gasped weakly and rose up from her seat. She left the great hall, and faded swiftly into the darkness. The young hunter at his left whom he had been speaking with earlier stopped eating and gazed at him silently.

“Mikhail would admire you, Pavel,” the king continued speaking. “He enjoys hunting. He caught much of the game that is on this table. But you! I am certain you are swift, and merciless! I admire those qualities.”

“I am sure you do, Majesty.”

Mikhail slowly began to finish his meal, but did not take his eyes off Pavel.

“And tell us! What is it you commonly hunt?”

“Deer, wild boar, sometimes a few stray sheep.” He shrugged, not seeing the importance.

A servant timidly approached him from behind. Pavel turned swiftly when he smelled fresh blood. In his shaking hands the serf held a large bowl. And so Pavel held out an empty wine goblet for him to fill.

He accepted it and sipped it. “Much thanks, Majesty. This is what gives me strength.”

The servant turned to quickly leave. “No. You must stay, until I am filled and that bowl is emptied,” Pavel ignored the whispers around him and continued to drink. He rapidly finished the contents of his cup and took more as the servant stood at his side trembling.

He wished it was Yuri at his side. Yuri did not tremble. Perhaps he did fear him somewhat, but he did trust him. Yuri did fear the darkness of night, and the spirits of almost forgotten gods, and Pavel was a creature of that darkness. But Yuri knew him well, and never trembled while serving him.

Pavel’s hands were now covered with blood. The serf had spilled it, and he began to whimper in fear of instant severe punishment.

“And tell us,” the king went on. “You hunt none of the worthless wretches that live in the hovels outside your forest?”

“No, Majesty,” he answered quietly.

“A pity! It would make great sport.” He laughed, and Olga laughed along with him.

“Such hunting is too easy,” Pavel said, to remind them all to be careful. “They are all much too slow, and weak.”

“I see, I see,” said the king. “I almost enjoy you!”

Mikhail watched as Pavel drank. He ceased to eat, as if he could not.

“Remain here for the day, then!”

“Thankyou.”

“And while you are here, that worthless fool you see standing next to you will see to your needs. If he cannot find a sheep for you quickly enough, then just seize him and use your dagger to slice his throat!”

Again the princess laughed.

The bowl dropped to the stone floor and shattered, the warm fresh blood splashed onto Pavel’s boots.

A tremendous waste, he thought, as he gazed sadly into the deep red pool under his feet. He heard the king shout for the two guardsmen stationed by the entrance to the great hall. “Have this useless dog thrashed!”

“Not necessary, Majesty.”

“Oh come now! It amuses me!” The king roared with laughter again.

The serf went coldly limp as he was dragged across the floor…

After the feast Pavel walked throughout the courtyard in the moonlight while most in the castle were sleeping. He would leave tomorrow at dusk, as soon as the gentle darkness crept into the sky.

He headed toward the stables to tend to his stallion, to be sure he was fed and warm, for he was certain that the beast was his only friend within the hostile fortress that held him.

Quickly he turned. Footsteps shuffled quietly behind him in the darkness. He listened. Nothing. Was he watched? He did not know, but he kept his hand on the hilt of his sword.

On entering the stable he smelled the strong scent of fresh blood mixing with the smell of leather and hay. He peered through the semi-darkness, and there, cowering in the corner of an empty stall was the serf that had been beaten.

He turned to go and find what he needed, fresh water, and a clean shirt.

Pavel returned after fetching the water from the well. The young man did not hear him enter and so he continued to walk softly toward him, and he put the bucket of cool water down where it would be in reach.