Marek (Buried Lore Book 1) (25 page)

I
followed the river. It was another tool the
strigoi
used to stay hidden. There was less scent near water. Over miles I travelled
until there were no forests. I was far west and getting closer. I could sense
it.
Pietro
would not have walked fast. His body was
failing him.

On
the ground were dead rabbits, their throats torn, not a drop of blood left. He
was getting careless, even desperate, and he could probably sense I was on his
trail.

The
sight of the carcasses distracted me long enough for someone to jump from the
tree above, and crush me to the ground. I pushed the assailant off me with such
force that his body sailed through the air to land on hard shelves of ice near
the river. I stood over
Pietro
.

‘Did
you have to do that?’ I asked.

‘I
can’t go back with you, I can’t!’ he hissed.

Pietro
had aged since he was put in the dungeon. His face was drawn, his hair thinning
fast and his body so skinny that his collarbones protruded. I felt much pity.
He had always been kind to me.

‘You
have to,
Pietro
. It is Oleander’s rules. If you do
what she wants you will be free again to live as a
strigoi
.’

‘Her
ways are against the ancient laws. Lewis would not have wanted this.’

‘
Pietro
, you are too much of a traditionalist. It is
important for all of us that we conform. Don’t you see? She is trying to build
the coven and make it stronger.’

‘She
has filled your head with lies, though it is not your fault. You have not lived
long enough to know the difference between what is right in the
strigoi
world and what isn’t. What Oleander does is wrong.
She must be stopped. Our lands will be wiped of humans if we bow to her code,
or lack of. See how the young ones feast too often and she turns a blind eye?
And they feast on fresh skin instead of the degenerates. Again, she pretends
she doesn’t see.’

I
thought that he was perhaps right though I did not say. Oleander had opened up
the door for
strigoi
to be somewhat wild and take
what they wanted. In one way she had spoilt them with feasts and festivities. But
for those who didn’t conform, it was better off being dead. Anyone who wanted
to live outside Oleander’s rules was punished. In the days of Lewis’s circle
there were no grand feasts night after night, and there were tighter rules
concerning humans. Back then, even I felt freer to come and go as I pleased, to
see and visit who I wanted. Now I found every one of us was watched in case
there was a conspiracy or perhaps taking sides with the older
strigoi
who were hidden out of sight and deep within the
castle.

‘
Pietro
, I have to take you back. If I don’t, I too will be
punished.’

‘We
need to somehow get a message to Lewis that his circle is not as he left it.’

‘We
can’t. He is sleeping somewhere in a place
no-one
knows of. He cannot be disturbed. His rise will be up to him.’

‘Let
me go, Zola. I have friends in another coven
who
will
take me in. It is my chance to live normally. Please.’

‘There
is no such thing as friends in another coven. They will kill you there.’

‘I
would take my chances there than in the castle dungeon,’ he announced bitterly.

Oh,
how I hated that moment. My loyalty to Oleander was lessening by the day.
Before
Marek
I did not have an opinion and Oleander
was best with people who asked no questions.

Pietro
looked pathetic lying there, nothing but skin and bone and dressed in rags.

‘Give
me a chance to be free like I was,’ he pleaded. ‘I have been a
strigoi
for nearly two hundred years. I have already had a
sleep during that time where I healed and returned to my youth. But now it
seems I am not even allowed to do that.’

Yes,
I thought to myself. Sometimes it had not always made sense to me. Oleander had
some rules that we blindly followed; rules that many of the young ones did not
even know about yet.

I
nodded. ‘All right,
Pietro
, you must go far from here
and never return. I will tell her that in your weakened state I was able to
kill you after you put up a fight. If I do not tell her you are dead she will
tell me to continue the search. It will never end.’

Pietro
kneeled at my feet.
‘Thank you, Zola.
Thank you. If I
ever get the chance I will tell Lewis what you did for me here today.’

‘Hurry!’
I commanded. ‘Get out of my sight before I change my mind.’

I
watched him disappear and surveyed my surrounds to ensure that I had not been
followed. My senses told me there were other
strigoi
in the forest but they were too far away to matter. As I turned to leave, I
perceived one closer and waited for other signs that never came. The trail was
too fleeting to be threatening, a scent likely carried there on the wind.

With
my powers I scraped open parts of my flesh leaving a gaping wound from my wrist
to my elbow, and a slash across my neck. The pain was worth it if it meant
avoiding punishment from Oleander. What I could encounter from her might be a lot
worse.

As I
returned to the castle I rehearsed my speech. It was late. Oleander opened the
entrance door expectantly. Fortunately, she would not have sensed me until I
was long from
Pietro
.

‘You
took a long time,’ she said. ‘Where is
Pietro
?’

‘He
is gone for good,’ and I glanced away from her eyes and feigned weariness.

‘What
do you mean?’

‘He
is dead. I killed him...’

‘That
was not your decision to make,’ she said angrily.

‘It
was either him or me.
Pietro
is still cunning. He may
be weak but he tried to kill me. See?’ I held up my arms. ‘He proved to be very
difficult.’

‘Where
are his remains?’

‘Your
rule has been applied concerning fallen
strigoi
. His
ashes have been scattered to the winds.’

‘You
should have healed yourself by now,’ she said suspiciously.

‘I
was too weak from the fight. Killing another
strigoi
took nearly every ounce of strength.’

Oleander
rubbed her hand over my wounds, which sizzled then disappeared beneath clear
skin. ‘You see I am always doing something for you to make your life better.’

I
nodded my thanks and waited for her dismissal.

‘Zola,’
she said. ‘If you are lying…’ It was a warning and I dreaded the coming days,
when she would no doubt be watching every movement. It was best not to say anything
further lest I give some truth away.

A
carriage arrived at the front entrance, which distracted Oleander. ‘Jean is
back and I think he has company.’

Jean
entered arm in arm with a harlot, the bodice of her dress barely covering her
breasts, and an older man of considerable wealth but of little worth. They were
humans and their minutes were measured now.

Jean
took my hand and kissed it much to the disappointment of the human girl, who
took his hand off mine possessively and began to kiss his neck.

He
pulled her away.
‘Not yet my dear.
The pleasure will
be over much too soon if you keep that up.’ Jean looked at me seductively, to
include me in his secret meaning.

The
three disappeared into the ballroom and I followed quickly to avoid further
scrutiny from Oleander.

Already
people were arriving for the feast. I found my corner and took a seat. Several
would-be suitors asked me to dance but I was not interested. I looked the other
way.

Marek
was
there and my world was alive once more. He looked more dashing than normal. His
face was no longer olive but pearlescent against black velvet, which suited him
well. He noticed me, waved, and headed in my direction but
Celestina
suddenly appeared out of thin air to whisper in his ear. He looked at me
reluctantly before following her to the dance floor and I could not help but
notice the rage that burned behind Jean’s eyes.

Jean

I
was so sick of him. Oleander was always talking about him as if he
was the
saviour
of us all, something her soothsaying
mother once saw, and I had to feign interest. I believed he was more likely to
be the downfall of our coven than anything else. She thought he was the
greatest find for our circle. I tried telling her; though, now adept at taking
a life, he had still not taken a soul.

‘In
time,’ said Oleander. But she did not see him like I did. There was something
sickeningly good about him that did not sit well within the confines of a
strigoi
world. I was convinced that he would not go the
distance. I would find some way to expose him as a fraud.
Once
I did, she would again pay more attention to me and perhaps
humour
me with some of my more unconventional suggestions.
In our conversations
I had already felt that she believed in my ideas. There was one in
particular
for which I had planted a seed many months
earlier. Oleander knew from her books and her own ponderings that what I was
offering was an appropriate activity to extend the life of our coven but I had
yet to gain her final approval. A most annoying thing it was to require someone’s
approval.

And
then there was
Celestina
. She agreed with everything
I said and was more loyal to me than anyone else. It was my exquisite company
she had long desired. Anyone in my company agreed that I was still the most
handsome of the male
strigoi
. Yet even as I thought
this, I was aware that something had to be done to make me perfect again, even
if that meant an extremely unconventional method, and one that went against the
ancient
strigoi
code.

Marek

After the dance with Celeste I went
in search of Zola but she had left. Celeste followed me, detecting my
disinterest in her this evening and looking for ways to engage me.

‘Let’s play a game of hide and
seek,’ she suggested, ‘for it will be good for sad-faced Zeke.’

Poor
Zeke. She was right about him. He did not look happy these days. There were no
children for him to play with and he thought often of his mother. This I knew
from reading his thoughts. That sense was heightened now and I enjoyed
listening to the thoughts of humans: their petty worries, their dreams and
desires.

Jean
was bored of Zeke. Now only Zola spent any time with the boy. I suspected that
Zola also kept a watchful eye on him at night in case there were those who had
other ideas, though Oleander assured me that while
strigoi
were dangerous they were not
uncivilised
.

It
seemed Oleander’s plan for Zeke was that he would ultimately be a servant. It
was not much of a destiny but perhaps it was the safest place for him in our
world.

Celeste
returned with her recruits: Zeke whose eyes had lit up with the suggestion of a
game, and to my dismay, Jean. I smiled indifferently at him and he did the
same. The four of us dispersed into the vastness of the castle with its endless
hallways and rooms.

At
the top of the ballroom stairs there were two corridors leading to the east and
west wings, and each wing had its own maze of passageways to various part of
the palatial abode. My room was in the east wing where some of the more casual
strigoi
guests stayed from time to time.

Somewhere
in the corridors running west were
Oleander’s
and
Jean’s chambers. I had, since my time there, only wandered from Oleander’s
library near the entrance, to the great hall and to my room or Zola’s room in
the eastern wing. So there was still much to see.

I
heard running feet in both directions as I began to count. Zeke could hardly
suppress his squeals of excitement in the distance. I commenced the chase down
the eastern corridor and then changed my mind to head west where Zeke had moved
out of sight. My instinct told me to be near the boy. Portraits of men and
women lined the walls. Most were notably unattractive, nothing like those of us
at the feasts.

Oleander,
by Zola’s accounts and others – as I had spoken now to many
strigoi
in the fold – was credited with showing great
strength as a child and her following started back then. She was smart and
quick at her tasks and showed the other
strigoi
how
to live without fear. She came to this house to learn from another: an ancient
by the name of Lewis. It was said that he had lived for centuries.

I
could sense that Celeste was somewhere in the east wing. Zeke and Jean were
together in the west. Zeke’s laugh trickled down the corridors from somewhere
ahead and I caught a glimpse of Jean’s coattails.