The Blood of Life - Chapter 2 - The Twilight of Life (Patreon)

I just had my writing group look over Chapter 3 earlier today, and I've have some tweaks to make before I post that next month, but here's Chapter 2! Ekrem enters the novella in this chapter.

It amazes me that even after all these years, Strasek still looks like the village I remember. So much has changed since the wars of Napoleon and the recent revolutions, yet it seems time has frozen here. Great battles have been fought, nations have come and gone, but here in the foothills of the Carpathian Mountains, surrounded by vineyards and fields of grain, there is a feeling of peace, as if this area only watches the world beyond and simply opts out of the growing march of progress and steam engulfing other parts of Europe.

Perhaps that will change when the railroads reach Strasek and link it to the rest of the empire. It’s not that there are no changes here either, there are quite a number of them actually, but they seem to suggest a sense of refinement instead of a sense of progress. New houses have been built over the intervening years, and familiar buildings have been modified with new wings added, yet they form a cohesive unity. Other things are still the same. The Twisted Vine Inn remains the main lodgings in town, standing just off the main square, although it too has gained an addition and been remodeled inside.

This village was my home, but it’s not my home anymore. I’m reminded of that walking past my parent’s house. It doesn’t look like it’s been altered much, but it looks as if the wealth of the occupants has faded with time. The roof sags in spots, and the paint peels. I’ve yet to determine if it’s still owned by any of my relatives. My sister Katrina had a kit, Gavrilo, but I have no idea if he lived to adulthood. He was four at the time of my attack. Since there is no tombstone for him in the family plot, I can only assume he did, but I have no idea where he went or ended up.

All I have here now are memories, and as I return to the Twisted Vine, I can feel the pinprick of uncertainty. This is where I met the man who turned me. I had serious trepidation when I arrived in town yesterday, since I was once again bringing my corruption among the living, but I had to if I was going to finally do this. I needed the closure.

So far, the innkeeper Alina hasn’t shown any suspicions of who I or what I am, which was good. Since the response to my letter asking about accommodations invited me to visit, I had no problem entering when I arrived. It proved to be a welcoming place, and returning to the tavern, I can feel the life and joy the building contains. It is warm and homey, a fire burns in the fireplace with oil lamps lighting the rest of the room. Alina immediately waves to me from the bar. Even though the badger is tending to some drinkware, she stops to check on me.

“Good evening, Master Radic. Will you be taking your meal in your room again tonight?” she asks me so warmly I can feel myself almost pushed back as if I was confronted with the sun. If only she knew the dangerous guest in her midst.

I smile, trying to return some of the warmth from my cold dead body. “My stomach is still bothering me,” I respond, approaching the counter, “but if you’d send up some wine and bread, I’d be quite thankful for it.” The bread at least has a pleasant smell about it, and while I can’t eat it, I could at least enjoy the scent before I would have to find a place to get rid of it. The wine is something I can handle.

“You sure a good stew wouldn’t set you right, sir?”

“I’m sure, but thank you for offering.”

“Suit yourself. Did the walk at least help you feel better?”

“That it did.”

“Oh good. I was worried you would be ill since you slept so late.”

I nod. “I was tired from the road, and I am quite the night owl.”

“Aye, well you let me know if you need anything,” she says.

I nod and turn toward the stairs. The inn is busy, and the fire down here is warm, but I know my place is not here. I’m almost to the stairs in the back when a friendly hand waves me down.

“Radic, please join me again tonight,” calls out a leopard.

This is Ekrem, a man I met last night here in the common room. He is taking his evening meal by himself at a table in the back by the stairs. I consider for a moment, pondering if I want to stay downstairs, but it won’t hurt. Even though I plan to leave tomorrow night, it would be good to keep people reassured. Plus, he’s easy on the eyes.

“If you insist,” I say, approaching, “but I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Please,” he says, pointing to the chair in front of me. “I do insist. You came a long way and just left the world of the dead. I wouldn’t want you to think Strasek is only for the deceased.”

I chuckle and take my seat. “Thank you, but my concern isn’t with the living right now.”

“I have not forgotten. Your meeting with the priest went well?” he asks.

“It did. Thank you for arranging that for me and delivering my note. I needed the rest after getting in so late.”

He nods. “You’re welcome. Does that conclude your business in town?”

“It does provide some closure. I’ve done what I came here to do.”

“Will you be leaving soon then?” asks the leopard. He looks a little disappointed I’ll be going.

“In a few days, I plan to head back to Vienna.”

His ears dip. “Quite an awfully long trip to just visit some graves.”

I shrug. It isn’t his business, but I don’t want to arouse any undue suspicion. “It was a promise kept.”

“A strange promise,” he remarks.

“People ask for strange things on their deathbeds sometimes. She wanted me to visit them, and I did.” I repeat the lie I told him last night about my odd request.

“I am sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you. What about you? Business was good today?”

“It was slow, but I made a few guldens.”

Alina comes over and drops off the wine and bread I asked for, along with two goblets. I thank her, but I secretly wish she hadn’t brought them to me since I can’t eat the bread. It will make me sick.

“A light dinner, I see,” Ekrem says.

“My stomach has been bothering me,” I respond, reaching for the wine and pulling the cork to let the contents breathe. Oh good, it’s a red wine. That agrees with me more than white wines do. I let the heady scent of the wine tickle my nose.

“Ah, I did not know,” he says.

“It happens when I travel. Hopefully tomorrow it will be settled.”

“Indeed. You must have some of Alina’s cooking. It is quite good.”

Looking at the stew, I can see that. I would love to tuck into a meal like that right now. The bowl of beef and vegetables looks warm and comforting and similar to what my mother used to make. It helps warm your tired body during cold nights. Oh, how I miss the true pleasures of life.

My ears must show my disappointment because Ekrem speaks up. “I can give you a bite.”

I shake my head and reach for the wine, pouring some out into the simple glass goblet the innkeeper placed on the table. “I’ll be okay.”

The leopard shrugs and dips his spoon into the stew to take another bite. The smell is quite delightful, and I can at least remember what food was like. The company is pleasant, and as we talk, I offer him some of the bread, which he accepts gratefully. For my part, I sit and slowly slip my wine.

“I must ask,” he says when the meal is finished, “have you heard of the legend about Strasek’s greatest defender.”

My ears perk. I have, but it would be good to hear it again. “I did hear a story before about this town, but I’m not sure it’s the one you know.”

He smiles. “I can tell you the version I know then.”

I take up my glass and take a sip. “Go on. I’m interested.”

Ekrem clears his throat. “Our town is a sleepy place, but it has not always been that way. The wars of the previous centuries thundered across these lands, and many of the people here suffered. It was said there was a bear who stood up and fought year after year against those who would do the village harm. Some say he fought the Turks, others the Russians. There are some who say he was so old he even fought the Huns, but who would believe such nonsense? A few people believe he actually fought them all and that he survived on the flesh of those he killed. When a war was over, he would vanish, only to reappear when the village was again threatened. Always he would strike from the woods and would disappear back into them.”

“That’s the legend of the Huntsman. That story is old, and even I know that.”

The leopard chuckles. “It is, but do you know how they say the Huntsman died?”

I shake my head. “No, I don’t.” This part was never in any of the stories I had heard growing up.

“About a hundred years ago, there was a man who came to Strasek who had heard of the Huntsman, and he came seeking not to fight him or to aid him but to take his power. He came and he waited for a war to come, but none did, so he searched the woods around Strasek for years, seeking the Huntsman. They say deep in the forest he found him, and they fought. This man bested the Huntsman and drank the old bear’s blood to capture his power, but it did not make him stronger. Instead it drove him mad. Where the Huntsman was kind, he became cruel and had no noble traits like the Huntsman. He craved only flesh after that, and he struck the village of Strasek with his evil before he was driven off. Since that time the man and the Huntsman have not been seen again, and if the legend is true, he will never return again.”

I sit in silence, pondering the story. “What of the man’s victims?

“The stories don’t say, but it is rumored the man became a Nosferatu. He left Strasek, but if he became one with death like that, he might still be out there.”

I take a sip of my wine. “Indeed, he might.”

The leopard smiles. “It is a legend of course, but be careful my friend if you choose to travel the mountain roads at night.”

“I think I’ll be okay,” I say before I flash my fangs. “I would not be an easy prey for a robber.”

He sits back and drums his digits against the wooden table. “Perhaps,” he says, “but who knows what stalks the night.”

I lift up my glass. “Indeed, who knows.”

“You’re an odd man, Radic, traveling all this way to pay respect to the dead. I sense there is great sadness in you but also something special. Something that sets you apart.”

I try not to choke on my wine and clear my throat. “I am but a traveler in this world. An observer, if you might say.”

“A good traveler is always watching the road and the people around him. On this note, tell me about Vienna,” he asks. “I’ve never been, and I hear the city brims with progress, and its streets are lit at night with so many gas lights the city twinkles in the darkness.”

“It most certainly does.” I put the goblet down on the worn wooden table, thinking. “It’s a city full of life, and the promise of what tomorrow will bring. There is wondrous music that fills the city’s ballrooms with guests waltzing until late into the night. Vienna’s artists and opera singers rival the best found in Paris.”

He reaches toward my hand holding the goblet, and his digits wrap around mine. “I don’t know when I will be able to make a trip like that myself, so I’d like to hear about it.”

I look down at the paw on-top of mine. “I wouldn’t want to bore you,” I offer.

He gently squeezes my paw. “You wouldn’t. Also, you are cold, would you like to sit by the fire? It seems you caught a chill out there.”

I look up at the leopard, and I smile, a genuine smile. This isn’t the one I gave the innkeeper, but something warmer. Something almost alive. “Let us sit by the fire, and I would be happy to tell you what it’s like in Vienna.”

#

It is well after midnight when I finally take the time to pause my reading. I have heard no movement downstairs for a while, and I stop, letting my ears swivel to see if they pick up anything.

All is silent. I cannot be sure, but I think everyone has gone to bed now, resting from the day. I know when Ekrem and I parted earlier tonight, the tavern was almost empty. Only the most nocturnal are awake right now. I include myself in that, but I am awake every night and have been for a hundred years. This is my day.

I place the book down on the table and get up silently to stretch, waking my stiff muscles. There is a familiar itch under my fur, and it is best to scratch it. I still need to let myself pretend I am alive for at least another day before I take my leave of Strasek for who knows how long.

I carefully snuff out the few candles in the room I have lit, plunging the space into near darkness. I have let the fire in the fireplace burn down, and it gives off only a faint orange glow from the remaining embers. The distinct scent of extinguished wax hangs in the air as I step over to the window and slowly open it.

The night air is cool, and quickly washes away the lingering smoke as I push out the shutters. Moonlight falls over me, bathing me in its silvery light. The village below is quiet, and most of the people should be asleep. My room looks over the back of the inn and the yard below. I still myself and look up at the moon to focus on it, and suddenly I am no longer myself.

The change is instant, and yet even though I’ve done it enough times for it to be effortless, there’s still a joy about it. The feeling of freedom it gives as I beat my wings to get air under them never gets old. As I push myself out of the open window, the world below me spirals away. It is a thing full of moonlight and shadows.

As I stretch out my arm wings and glide across the yard and over the buildings below, I can see that my assumptions about everyone being asleep are correct. Few lights are lit in the town, and only a little smoke is coming out of the chimneys. In Vienna, there are always people awake doing something, and I need to be more cautious in my nocturnal wanderings, but here? No one seems the wiser to my small and innocuous presence. And indeed, what harm does a little bat present to them if they don’t know the monster it can be?

I easily take in the whole village flying in large, sweeping circles over it. The street layout is still familiar, and the central square is still like I remember it. The stores have changed, but that’s to be expected. The only light in the center of town comes from the rooms above the curiosity shop. Something must have caught Ekrem’s attention, or perhaps the stew didn’t agree with him.

I push myself higher, letting my concern for the leopard fall behind me. He is better with me far away from him. He has his life and store, and I have my undeath back in Vienna. Such is the way of the world and the things that could have been but can’t be. I must drink in the beauty of Strasek before it becomes another faded memory for me.

The hunger still burns inside of me, but it is forgotten as I let the feeling of the wind and the freedom it brings fill me. I have long missed the sun, but the one thing the curse has given me I can appreciate is this. Suspended in the moonlight of the night, I can forget my fears, my problems, and my hunger.

The village disappears as I let my wings carry me away. Fields filled with ripening winter grain and grapes cover the hills below me. They stretch all the way to the nearby mountains. I swing down to catch the scents and let myself skim just over the sheaves of wheat, as I head toward a farmhouse.

Silently I reach the structure and catch my tiny claws into the wood of the eaves. I hang there for a moment letting myself rest. The gentle sound of snoring comes to my ears. Entry is impossible due the bindings against me the curse imposes, but it would be no trouble to draw the farmer and his wife out by making a disturbance. The meal would be quick, and if I played my cards right, I might get both. It would invigorate me and give me the strength I need to make the journey back to Vienna.

Except I can’t. Not now, and not ever again. I swore to myself I wouldn’t ever feed like that, and I won’t break that oath. I turn my small head to look toward the fields. This is a village of light and hope. It does not suffer under the industrial might of the empire like some places do now. Progress has yet to come here, and the choking darkness of smog that it brings is not here. I will not sully such a beautiful place with my presence longer than I must.

I let go and glide away from the house before I start to beat my little wings. Tonight I will enjoy the sites of this old home of mine, and tomorrow night I will leave. I will have my trunk sent off and head by wing to the cave I stayed at on my last night before reaching here.

Strasek deserves better than me in its midst. It is still a few hours till dawn, but I cannot let myself dawdle out here too long. Before the night is done I need to secure some fresh dirt from the graveyard. It will ease my rest and let me sleep well. It has been difficult to get a good rest on this trip, so it will be blissful to sleep deeply.

Tomorrow night I will feed on some cattle before I leave the village of my birth behind again. None will suspect a thing except Ekrem, and he will only know me as only a traveler full of stories of places far from here. That’s what I want.