Kindling (10 page)

“Catalina,” my father said. I jumped. “It’s okay, mi cielo, it’s okay.” He pulled me in for a hug. “Just breath, just breath,” he comforted. I nodded and took some deep breaths. He let me calm down a bit. “Let’s talk,” he smiled. I nodded and he led me over to a bench. “My brother, Leo we called him, was a great tracker. Heike lived with us for many years when my brother and I were young and he personally trained Leo and, even though I didn’t have The Gift, Heike took me under his wing and trained me, too. I was proud to be Leo’s brother and Heike’s friend.” He paused and took my face in his hands. “But I am even more proud to be your father.”

“This can’t be real, papá,” I whispered. “This just can’t be real.”

“Why, mi cielo?” He held my hand and petted it. “Tell me why it can’t be real.”

I sighed, long and drawn out. He always wanted me to analyze situations. How could I even begin? “Vampyres are fiction. They’re just not real. It’s impossible.”

“Tell me what you know about them,” he said.

I shrugged. I didn’t know much except what I had seen through really bad horror films and popular culture. “They drink people’s blood?”

“Yes, go on,” my papá demanded.

“They’re immortal?” He nodded. “They sleep in coffins. They don’t like sunlight. If you get bitten or something you turn into a vampire.” I thought a little bit more. “They turn into bats or something?”

“Is that all?” I nodded. I was never that interested in vampires. “Let me tell you about the vampyres that I know. I grew up running from them, Catalina. They haunt my nightmares.” He laughed, a little, but I didn’t see the humour. “Vampyres are not immortal, they can die. Your abuelo and uncle killed many in their day.” My papá grinned. “Daylight does nothing to them, they just prefer to feast at night since they won’t get caught as easily, which is why many people think they’re nocturnal. Vampyres are blood thirsty, yes. But a bite won’t always kill you. If they drain you, you will die, but they don’t always go that far. They are like cats, tormenting their victims until they yearn for death to come.” He snarled a little and had a far away look in his eyes, then shook himself out of his daze. “Truly sadistic and practiced vampyres will never let death come to a human. They will adopt a human as a blood slave and sup on them over and over and over until the human dies from the stress.” I must have looked shocked, because he patted my face. “Those are not the normal ones. The more normal vampyres just hop from one person to the next, drinking what they need or learn to live without human blood. Some humans even find having an annual blood drain refreshing, although the practice is generally looked down upon in the Hunting community. I call them normal, but they are in the minority. The majority of vampyres cannot control how much blood they drink. They can’t control their blood lust and end up killing humans. That’s where the Hunters come in. The Hunters quell the vampyries that kill. It’s that simple.”

I shook my head. “It’s impossible,” I whispered, although I was doubting everything. If vampyres were real were zombies real? And goblins and fae and trolls?

Papá patted my leg. “Your mother and I, we grew up in this life, so it’s hard for me to know how to convince you. It’s just, a way of life for us, something almost normal.”

“In what universe are vampyres normal?”

“In
this
universe, mi cielo,” he laughed. “You are intelligent, caring, quick-witted, and ever questioning. I love that about you, Catalina. You are so rational and logical that it’s so difficult for you to accept what me and your mother and your abuelos know ...” he trailed off, then smiled and kissed my forehead. “Yes, it is real, mi amor. And why would I lie to you about this? You have to think, have mama and I ever lied to you before?” I was in shock so I didn’t really respond. He sighed and dug around in his pocket. He handed me a leather notebook worn around the spine and bent along around the edges of the cover, like it had been repeatedly pulled in and out of a tight space. On the front there was an intricately carved tree and the letters L.G.C. “Lysander Guillermo Chavez,” my papá pointed at the initials. “
Mi hermano. Your uncle.” I could hear the sadness in my father’s voice and I saw the glistening in his eyes
. “Leo was an amazing and incredibly detailed writer. He wrote a lot of it for me, you know, because he knew I would never experience a Hunt. I was always a little bit jealous. I don’t know why. It was a tough job for him. Your abuelos and I have nearly a hundred of these little notebooks from him, filled with his thoughts and escapes. After his training was over, I gave him this notebook as a gift. Everything in here is from the first six months he was in the field with Heike.” “Much of this first notebook you shouldn’t read. He was still and adolescent boy, you know,” he laughed and reddened a bit when he glanced at one page. Then my papá smiled at me and turned to a marked page in the journal. “But, these few entries, I think, might help you.” He pointed to the first date – August 12, 1947 – and flipped to the last date – October 1947 – and nodded. “Will you read?”

I took the journal hesitantly and glanced through the entries. At first, they were long and detailed. I only read a few paragraphs, but I from what I read I saw Lysander filled the pages with adjectives and beautiful imagery. I glanced at my father.

“Please, Catalina,” papá begged. “I want you to read what my brother wrote. I cannot convince you any other way.”

I nodded and started from where my father marked. Lysander was obviously a teenage boy and had never been out Hunting on his own before. In the first entry on August 2, he had just graduated from what he called Hunting School on some island and was was on his first Hunting expedition with Heike and another person called Tafari. Lysander seemed thrilled to finally be working on the field. I could tell he was very close to Heike, but he was also very naive.

After all these years of following my father, I am finally Tracking on my own with Heike by my side. Tafari is turning into an assured companion, as well. My youth is my benefit, though, as I have not the pleasure of being inured to the anger of the Hunters. There is talk of an uprising, there is always talk, but I want to change it all. I believe I can turn into the leader these men need! May my bright light be a beacon to those around me. May we find the vibrant killers and throttle the vampyres’s blood lust. We shall overpower them with our mighty strength and suppress their evil deeds. We shall stomp upon their smouldering ashes and be named victorious.

Lysander’s optimism was a little sickening. I had to stop reading for a moment. I looked at my father to sigh and roll my eyes. My father laughed.

“Don’t worry,” my papá said. “Heike teaches him pretty quickly. Go ahead, read on. Leo sees some action pretty soon.”

I rolled my eyes again, but continued reading.

Vampyres are still in upheaval. They are gathering far into the belly of this continent. Heike says the Queen has made more new vampyres in the last 10 years than she has in the last 100, even more now than during the Great War! They thrive on the evil and if there was evil in anything it was the war crimes perpetrated during this last decade ... Enough of that, my heart still grieves. We’re walking through the USSR now – not sure exactly where, though Tafari thinks Poland. It is strange, but I can still feel the oppressive weight of sadness and anger and wickedness in the air. Heike says we Trackers are made to tune into nefariousness. I understand I am supposed to be following my Tracking sense, but the odious air is suffocating. Tafari is struggling with the smells. He’s having a hard time retaining his skin.

“Who is Tafari?” I asked my father. I got confused, since sometimes it seemed like that Tafari person was a man and sometimes I wasn’t so sure.

My papá hushed me. “Just read on.” I read on. Lysander’s journal entries were becoming shorter and messier.

Tafari received a message from the leaders. He is not pleased. He and Heike spoke a long time together. Tafari is upset. I can understand. I told him he had a choice in the matter, but this angered him and I believe he would have attacked me if Heike had not intervened. I would not win against Tafari, I fear, and was grateful to Heike. I apologised, though I still believe he has a choice. We all have choices.

Wow, that was heavy stuff from a kid about my age. What was he really responsible for the preservation of the human race or was he just very romantic? I partially felt he was dramatic about the whole thing but the other part of me ... well, I had never thought that vampyres could be the downfall of man.

There were lots of stuff in the journal I didn’t understand - my papá refused to answer any questions when I looked up at him. He urged me to read on, although the journal was pretty boring. Lysander was really into capturing the mundanities of life – cooking, walking, traveling through the forests, walking, finding food, walking some more. It went on for pages and pages and I couldn’t help but wonder when he had time to write it all down. It was a like reading a slightly shorter version of Lord of the Rings, so it took awhile to read through the journal to get to the date papá wanted me to read to, but finally I got to October. There were about ten entries for October 1947 and, unlike the previous months, they lacked in-depth details and exact dates.

I don’t know for certain, but I believe Tafari and the others will break away from The Hunters and we’ll lose them. Tafari is a good warrior and I do not look forward to his loss. I do not blame them for breaking away from a group of men who are regressing into archaic,19th century thought. We Hunters are becoming a backwards group who care more for tradition than bettering ourselves at our life’s work: the slaying of vampyres and the preservation of the Human Race.

The next entry was even terser. I could almost see young Lysander scribbling anxiously as him and his hunting companions rested. I could sense his urgency, as if he didn’t know what was happening or what was going to happen. At first he was pretty cocky, but after awhile he seemed to rely completely on his hunting companions for guidance and support. His transformation was sad, in a way.

The wolves are going mad. I hear them bellowing in the night. It is a sickening sound and I cannot sleep. I am ill from the Tracking. Mile by mile we get closer to the scent, the colors brighten.

For nine of the ten entries, Lysander said almost the same things. His writing became almost unreadable, just short little lines of prayer and smudges. There were water drips on the pages, blending some of the lines together. His English became so poor that he finally began writing only in Spanish and, even then, it was mostly just the Ava Maria and Mi Dios! written over and over again. I could almost see the sweat dripping down his face and onto the pages of the journal as the terror grew with each entry. I could almost feel the near-paralyzing fear that took hold of him.

Getting close. Tofari smells them. Lost his skin for good, Heike says. Tofari disappears for hours. He bellows for us to follow. I am terrified. Cannot eat or sleep. Will I ever consider this natural? I see the colors so vividly. A bright, yellow orb draws me in. We are pulled together. I feel their lust for blood deep inside my fibres. Heike says it will get easier. Mi Dios! I mumble prayers constantly. Padre Nuestro, líbranos del mal. And to Madre Maria, I pray
ruega por nosotros pecadores,
ahora y en la hora de nuestra muerte. Over and over I say my prayer until Heike wakes me from my stupor to move on.

With the tenth entry, though, everything changed. Lysander went back to his old self. He seemed excited, so excited that most of the margins were covered in finger smudges and the print was difficult to read. Either out of excitement or to make the words more legible, Lysander had traced over and over the letters, making them a deep, black color and nearly impossible to decipher at first glance. It took me awhile to fully read the page.

I
t’s taken me a week to write this down – I don’t even know the date! Note to self:
Remind Heike to get calendar in next town
. It was an exciting few days, for certain! We had sat down to supper last week when Tofari returned from one of his long expeditions. Heike could sense something, almost as if Tofari had spoken. I knew the vampyres were close, but I was so ill and the anxiety had so overtaken me I could not judge how close they were. Heike stood and told me “Get ready.” I will never forget those two words, but that was Heike in high anxiety times, curt and composed. He is most admirable. I laugh, now, but then I became ill with fear. I admitted to him my trepidation and he patted my shoulder. It was unspoken: he would take care of me if needed, if I could not perform my duties as a Tracker. He was the Hunter, after all, and he was more prepared to kill than I was! I was sure I would need all the help offered as I was frozen with dread! The colors became intense and Tofari bolted, startling me. The screams began from deep in the forest and grew louder as they neared. I held on to my rosary so tight one of the glass beads burst – *note: send word to Mercutio for another set* – and then they appeared, five in total. Their colors almost blinded me. I sunk to my knees but Heike pulled me up and shoved a spear in my hand. He yelled “stop” and they stopped. I had never heard his voice like that and I cannot explain how it gained so much power. He is a true Hunter. I wonder if father would have been that commanding in his prime. The vampyres stood before him, along the edge of the clearing, and immediately knew who he was. They barred their teeth and stretched their bony fingers.

I thought they would be more animalistic. I was surprised that they weren’t. The ones I had met during my training barely retained any humanity at all, but these vampyres were very human except for their coloring and two had milky, charcoal eyes. Their color was a deep gold, nearly an orangey red, so I knew they had killed more times than I could imagine. Even so, it was difficult to see them as inhuman when they were so human-like, but I knew they were monsters, intent on blood and the enslavement of man. If you would see them you would not know they were malevolent beasts from the underworld until they were sucking your soul from your body! I had to remind myself of this and I knew they could not control themselves for long around two, fresh-smelling men – I’m sure our odours were intense, as we had left the river nearly two weeks beforehand!