2

To my dearest friends and loved ones, to the nocturners, the equinox, the night, the number
22, and to all the things that killed me and made me stronger…

3
 aÉàx yÜÉÅ _xÉÇtÜwM

Just for the record, I would like to state in defense of all

vampires out there that they are, in a word, beasts. They’re
wicked, remorseless creatures foreign to no sin or atrocity.
Vampires most definitely aren’t, as most people believe
these days, gentle, romantic, sentimental fools who write
love poetry, dress in lace clothing, marvel at works of art
and weep to readings of Shakespeare’s sonnets. The fact
that I am a vampire myself and I coincidentally happen to
do all the things listed above is completely irrelevant and
proves nothing whatsoever.

4
VERA LYNSON

EQUINOX

© 2010

5
 The morning’s full of shadow lust
The city’s full of leaves
And destiny deceives
Abuses our trust

I breathe this dirty city

Across the cobblestones
And track, so wild and pretty
The fragrance of your bones…

I will not stop, I cannot win

I am my own reflection
The torment of the beast within
It brings me satisfaction…

I’ll corner you when claws meet knees

And hearts are sick of beating
The hunt is but a sweet disease
Let’s get on with the eating...

6
 Chapter One
A Kiss From The Devil

I woke up with the spicy taste of rust and sulfur in my mouth, which rekindled
my disappointment from the previous night. I had expected the taste to be different, a
little more enchanting, like maybe roses or even liquor – rust and sulfur was just too
traditional for someone of that caliber. But hey, I reminded myself, it could have been
worse. After all, I was the kind of person who’d choose rust and sulfur over liquor any
day.
Of course, there was more to it than that. Apart from the specific demonic scent
and the warm feel of seemingly human skin, it also felt partly frightening, and partly
sickening, like tasting the echo of the flavor of a thousand wounded bodies, a hundred
rotting corpses, a million hungry flies. It tasted like a summary of the history of human
death and suffering. But then again, that’s what you get when you’re kissing the Devil.
I still found it a little hard to think of him as the ultimate evil, especially once I’d
seen him resting his golden blond head on my pillow as the sunrise was bursting in
through the windows. Hardly anyone would imagine the Devil looking like this. On
the other hand, however, I couldn’t imagine him looking any different. I’m not
particularly fond of blond men, and if the Devil was my kind of guy, I’d be really
terrified.
The amulet was choking me, so I got rid of it cautiously. I’d left it on the entire
night through, since you definitely want to think about protection when you decide to
fool around with the Devil. I was pleased to discover that my soul was intact and was
still located within its rightful owner. Apparently Satan was going to have to do better
than that to steal it. Smiling to myself, I quickly left the room and went downstairs to
brush my teeth. No need to pay my guest any special attention – he didn’t need an ego
boost, anyway; if anything, he needed the opposite.
This morning I was feeling especially cheerful, with the catchy tune from last
night stuck in my head, the October winds howling and roaring outside, and me
standing safely out of their reach. I simply couldn’t wipe the grin off my face. I’d
never found autumn weather this delightful before – or anything, for that matter.
Now that I’m standing here doing nothing, I feel it is the right time to clarify
things a little bit.
No, I am not a devil-worshiper, and Satan is neither my close friend nor is he my
lover. He is in fact a little less than an acquaintance – after all, we’ve only met twice in
my lifetime, and yesterday was our second encounter. The first one was nearly four
years ago – maybe not on the same date, but during the same season. I was going
through something back then, he came to me with a tempting but unconvincing offer, I
turned it down… and now I am back where I left off. In my old, cozy, demon-friendly
house, struggling with the same choice, trying to make it have a different outcome this
time. So, since after the last time I refused to kiss the Devil things went really bad for
me (he must have mentioned I was going to regret it at some point), I decided to try
the alternative just to see where it would take me. Maybe it was a good luck charm,

7
like kissing a chimney sweep. Or maybe I was just sick enough to even think things
like that.
“Sick” could merely be my middle name; my first name is Wera – the name I
gave myself – or Vera, the way some of my vampire and semi-vampire friends
pronounce it. I’ve been Wera for a long time; however, many things happened since I
became Wera. Matters of the heart, matters of life, matters of innocence (the loss of it)
and experience (whatever little hells on earth the Devil may bring), and many more
matters tightly bound to bitter memories, fortunately now buried, which I’d rather not
dig out at this point. No, this is Wera’s second life, the life of the Wera who is in
almost every way different from the Wera as she began – a shy, socially awkward and
physically unappealing teenage brunette, slightly resembling a fox or a weasel, the
average teenage boy’s nightmare, but otherwise a true embodiment of purity,
innocence, self-sacrifice and all those other forms of goodness that she always carried
on her like a badge. You’d never imagine her doing anything horrifying, obscene, or
just plain bad. But the former Wera’s innocence, lack of experience and desperate trust
in some of the more decent representatives of mankind made it possible for her to
experience sorrows and disappointments beyond a teenage brunette’s capacity.
Personally, I have no problem with that, because I ran out of self-pity exactly eleven
months ago. But sooner or later everything leaves its mark on you and hell sticks to
you too, becomes a part of you when in sufficient amounts – so it is not that surprising
that I ended up kissing the Devil last night. Besides, he is far from the worst kissing
option there is.
One reason why I did it was partly because I didn’t care, and partly because he
was so hopeless in his efforts to seduce me. I couldn’t help but feel sympathy for him.
The other reason was that he had predicted what I could become long before I even
knew it was exactly what I would become.
‘I thought you wouldn’t come back,’ he uttered mildly when I walked back into
my room and started rummaging for something to eat. Naturally, he was magnificent,
in a white silk shirt that had gone out of fashion at least two centuries ago and velvet
indigo-colored trousers. He gave me a piercing – no, a scorching emerald green look,
which would have passed for cheeky, were he only human. He was where wicked
came from, but had so much style that I couldn’t blame him for any genocide in
history while he was still in sight.
‘I thought you weren’t going to be here,’ I gave him a slightly delayed reply.
‘I’m impressed.’
‘Did you change your mind about us yet?’ he winked, well, devilishly at me. Not
that there was any other way for Lucifer to do it. ‘What’s the matter, are you going to
leave that moment we had last night without a comment?’
‘Well, I appreciated your vulnerability performance,’ I shrugged, ‘but it’s not
going to work, Lucy, I’m sorry. You’re just too handsome for me,’ I added with an
almost sincere apology in my voice.
‘I’ve always taken a very special interest in you.’
‘You know, I think I kind of felt it,’ I nodded, the grin on my face so sharp that
Satan was probably proud of it. ‘I think that the kiss might have moved you, even.’
‘Didn’t it move you?’ the Devil raised a long thin eyebrow. I shrugged again.
‘It tasted a little weird. World War II is not my favorite flavor.’

8
 ‘If anything, it certainly is one of a kind,’ Satan retorted, as suave and composed
as ever, but I squirmed with unjust joy on the inside, because it seemed as if he said it
partly to defend himself.
I left his statement without a confirmation. If I’ve learned anything from
relationships, it’s never to flatter people who flatter themselves on a daily basis and
probably kiss their reflections goodnight. It’s only a matter of time before they make
you feel inferior to them. And it was very important not to appear inferior in front of
the Devil. It was all a part of the game.
‘Well, I’m sure I’ll see you around,’ I breathed out in one go and reached my arm
out for a goodbye handshake. After that kiss a handshake with the Devil would mean
next to nothing. ‘I had a good time. The music was wonderful. Hope to hear more of
that in hell, okay?’
‘For you – anytime,’ Lucifer grinned with no less than genuine gentlemanly
delight. ‘You’ll have your own fireproof stereo when you pay me a longer visit. Very
well then, take care. And be careful not to be lured back onto the righteous path!’
‘Never in a million years,’ I agreed. ‘Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll make this a
quick farewell, because I’ve got some packing to do.’
When we shook hands, I couldn’t help but glance at his. He had the hands of a
pianist.
‘Really? Where are you off to?’
‘I’m going to pay your undead lookalike a little visit.’
‘Oh, that sounds exciting! How is he? Still a charming, bloodsucking, murderous
bachelor, I take it? Haven’t kept track of him lately…’
‘He’s a dad now, and he is very happy about it. When it comes to being sinful, I
think you’ve lost him.’
‘Aw, that’s too bad. He had such potential.’
‘I’ll send him your greetings. I’m sure he’ll be amused.’
‘Well, see you soon, then,’ the Devil waved a creamy pianist hand in the air. ‘Not
too soon, I hope. I like seeing you change over the years.’
‘I like seeing you stay the same,’ I smiled a crooked smile in return. ‘It gives me
a glimpse of immortality.’
Two hours later, I had packed all the stuff I expected to need and headed off to a
place where I’d get a hold of many more glimpses of immortality. It was what the new
Wera would do.

***

‘Excuse me, but where do you think you’re going?’ Frankie demanded
impatiently. He’d be tapping his foot on the floor if he wasn’t hanging upside down
from the ceiling.
‘Somewhere they don’t look down on red lipstick.’
‘And where would that be?’ my own personal fiend displayed some curiosity at
first, which switched straight to anger a moment later. ‘Wait, what am I saying? Wera,
I’m worried. Honestly. I won’t comment on last night, I mean I get how important
rebound is after all that happened, although I’m not sure why it had to be my dad…’
‘You know, I can expl-’

9
 ‘No need. I get it. He might be an interesting figure. But, what’s with the trip? I
hope it’s not somewhere bad.’ Frankie blinked. It didn’t happen very often. ‘And,
whatever the answer may be, can I come along?’
I sighed. Out of all the people in my life that weren’t really, well, people, Frankie
was the dearest one to my heart. I feel I should say a few words about him, as he has
played such an immense role in my life. In fact, nobody deserves a better introduction
than he does.
Frankie was, according to his own description of himself, tall, dark and
loathsome. He liked defining himself as my guardian demon. In fact, he wasn’t the
regular kind of demon – he was an independent fiend, which meant he was merely a
whim of his creator and he had also been designed to have the free will to rebel against
his own nature – or, in Frankie’s case, against everything. Frankie was a rebel by
heart, even though he didn’t anatomically have one, and a man you could count on,
even though he was not equipped with anything that could determine him as strictly
male. Apart from being sexless, which was one of the first things you’d notice about
him, he was dead pale – no, not in the popular vampire way, but with the slightly
freaking, remotely revolting gray-to-yellowish hue that indicated of recently deceased
flesh – he was also impressively tall and about as skinny as one humanoid body could
possibly be before passing for a skeleton. He had lustrous black hair which whipped
his back each time he turned more abruptly and crawled down all the way to the back
of his knees; his eyeballs were completely white all the way through, and he had the
habit of spitting ink every now and then, especially when he was upset. True, he
wasn’t the prettiest one to begin with, and he could never match his father in beauty,
but I couldn’t be happier to be seeing him every day again, in this classic form he’d
spent so many years by my side in. We’d been apart… but that was a long story. To
tell the truth, Frankie was my best non-human friend. I’d first discovered him lurking
in a cassette tape of my favorite rock band with the same name, six years ago, back
when I was only fifteen, and we’d been nearly inseparable ever since. Indeed, the fiend
was far from all sunshine and daisies, but he’d stuck to me and seen me through all of
my sorrows, losses and heartbreaks until now, and I knew he’d see me through all the
ones that would follow. If anyone was a constant, it was Frankie. He’d encouraged me
to stand my ground, stand up for my beliefs, ideals and morals for so long; he’d taught
me right and wrong and what being a human was really all about… in a rock ‘n’ roll
way. He was strictly against sin; he worried about my virtue all too much, and he did
so even more about my happiness, so, naturally, he wanted to come along on my
journey to protect me, as he always had, Indeed, I could have never gotten this far in
life if it hadn’t been for Frankie to support and guide me, and help me find my own
strength.
And if you think I haven’t gotten anywhere in life, then you need to be reminded
that I am actually twenty-one, and the life expectancy of the unfortunate old Wera with
the self esteem of half of a dying worm was much, much lower than that.
It was exactly because I owed Frankie so much that pained me so to inform him
that this was something I had to do on my own. I knew it would break his
metaphysical heart, but, albeit with grim resignation, he understood and accepted.
‘Hey, don’t worry, Wera, I knew this would happen sooner or later,’ he said as
softly as his coarse voice allowed him, with a mixture of pride and melancholy in it,

10
‘you getting along on your own. For too long I forced myself into your life as your
crutch, and there’s nothing I could be happier about than seeing you walk proudly on
your own. Enough guardians here and there, baby – go get life by the neck and fuck it
up the way it tried to fuck up you!’ he finished triumphantly.
Oh yeah, I forgot. Frankie never found it necessary to avoid bad language. It
came with the music he was inevitably bound to. He wouldn’t be Frankie otherwise.
I couldn’t help but smile. It reminded me of the good old days.
‘There, you did it again,’ I muttered. ‘I’m surprised… but flattered.’
‘What?’
‘You called me by name… and not by the name of that girl’s name… You know,
Winter – the girl in that song of yours.’
‘Ah, yes.’ Frankie’s expression went dark – or, in his case, darker, as if he had
remembered something shameful and unpleasant. ‘I can tell the difference between
Wera and Winter now. It took me some time… But now, for once, I know what’s real.
And it’s you.’
There was an awkward silence. We both knew where this could go, and that was
somewhere it was never meant to go.
I still kept that metal heart he’d given me years ago. I never really did give
Frankie mine in exchange – I suppose I just loved him way too much and way too
purely to love him in the way that humans felt love for each other – but, either way, it
wasn’t fair to him. And yet we loved each other too much to let each other go. It was
more than friendship that bound us; each one was an enormous part of the other. To
have a relationship with Frankie would be – we both knew that – like having a
relationship with myself, and maybe I was crazy enough to kiss the Devil, but I’d
never want to be insane enough to be kissing myself for the rest of my life.
I realized, not without embarrassment, that I’d given the subject way too much
thought. I coughed somewhat apologetically, and Frankie blinked at me a lot.
‘Anyway,’ he scattered the guilty gloom condensing around us, ‘aren’t you going
to tell me where you’re going, at least? Okay, I know, I’ll know everything you know
if anything goes wrong… but would you trust the fiend you’ve invited into your home
and into your head with just this piece of information?’ he implored with an innocent
half-smile, the kind that only an ink-spitting demon could muster.
‘Well, I’m not going to be doing any traveling in this world, what with all the
studying I have to do…’ I began.
‘That I can tell. Just say it, I won’t kill you… I know I’ve tried, but this time I
won’t, I promise,’ Frankie grinned widely and wickedly. Then, we both laughed. If
anyone had told us we’d be laughing about this back when it had happened, we’d have
labeled them mental. Now, this description suited us way better.
When I was done laughing, I took a deep breath.
‘I’m planning on visiting Leonard.’
Frankie twitched.
‘I know, I know, he’s got a child to take care of… but I won’t be a bother…’
Frankie frowned.
‘…and I know he used to be – used to be a first class sinner, and a killer, and a
rapist, and all those other bad things – ’
Frankie growled a little.

11
 ‘ – but I guarantee that I will be very, very safe with him, because right now he is
a very nice and stable – ’
Frankie spat a mouthful of thick black ink onto my carpet.
‘ – vampire.’
‘You know I think vampires are downright bastards,’ the fiend purred
malignantly, and then turned to me with a concerned expression: ‘They’re bad
influence, Wera. I can see why you’d want this right now, but you see, bad influence
you can always get from me as well…’
‘I know, I know…’ I mumbled insecurely, much like the old Wera would.
‘Listen to me, please. One, you know I dislike vampires as much as you do. But, two,
Leonard, he’s alright. And, three,’ I raised an index for maximum effect, ‘you’re
hardly any bad influence on me anymore, Frankie. You’ve been around me for so long
you can barely call yourself a spawn of Satan anymore. I’m sorry, but I’ve learned
everything you had to teach me.’
Frankie was appalled and embarrassed by my sincerity. He tried to disprove me,
but gave it up, and then simply protested:
‘B-but Leonard, that schmuck, that little pansy, he’s hardly a vamp anymore!
He’s become so domesticated, you know! I bet he’s taken up knitting pink sweaters as
a hobby!’
‘I thought you said he was dangerous.’
‘Well, no, but he’s not the worst vampire in their world.’
‘Precisely my point,’ I beamed. ‘There’ll be lots of bloodthirsty butchers out
there I can soak up some bad influence from, while Leonard will protect me. It’s
perfect!’
‘I doubt he will allow such hazard,’ the demon shook his head in disbelief. ‘But,
if you want to turn evil so much, do what you like, as long as he takes full
responsibility for it.’
‘I don’t want to turn evil,’ I objected modestly. ‘I just want to burn a few bridges,
for a while… I don’t want to go back to… you know.’
Frankie nodded grimly. He knew. We didn’t talk about it.
‘He does know you’re coming, right? Leonard?’ he inquired.
‘Well… kind of.’
‘Or kind of not,’ my guardian demon corrected me politely. ‘Never mind then,
just don’t get lost on the way to his spooky castle.’
‘I won’t,’ I grinned in response. ‘I’ll just head for the tallest and most tastelessly
depressing building I see on my way in. I’ll be fine.’
‘How long will you be gone?’
‘We’ll see.’
‘You’re gonna last as long as “we’ll see” without any sunshine?’
‘Hey, come on. I’ve been to Norway.’
We parted quickly, as dragging it out would just prolong Frankie’s agony. I could
tell he no longer felt needed… but, on the other hand, I was either going to get to the
point where I would handle myself on my own or die prematurely, so he sent me off
with mixed feelings, much like a proud mother sending her only son away to fight for
their country.

12
 And, soon enough, I was on my way, not daring to believe this was actually
happening, on my way to something new that held horrors but also freedom, and
independence, and strength that awaited me… strength that I had never had the chance
to grasp before.

***

I walked the street in the direction of the hospital two blocks away from my
home, and waited for the spot to turn up. It didn’t take any magic powder or occult
incantations. If you truly let it take over, your mind can do just about anything it wants
to. And I had my mind on a pretty loose leash.
My nostrils screamed with delight as the scent of fresh rain, more intoxicating
than it could ever be in the world most of us reside in, reached them and bewitched
them. Here, darkness had a velvet texture, and the moist cobblestones I was walking
on seemed to greet me with every clink of my boots on them. This was a new world: a
new beginning.
I could believe I was entering a different epoch, too: there were hardly any loud
noises made by anything living around, apart from a soft slither of a cloak heard every
now and then. The streets bustled with horse carriages and carts, and some lucky
horses they were for no one to have made food out of them yet. Still, as soon as I
caught the glistening scarlet pupils of the animals, it became clear to me that there was
probably a reason for that. There was no annoying car or truck noise, as there simply
weren’t any such vehicles here. The moon was cut in half and bright red, and the sky
was black velvet. There could be no question as to whether or not a sun would ever
show up on the horizon: it never rose, not here – so it was no wonder the population
could not get a decent tan. But then again, as far as I knew, they weren’t very fond of
sunbathing and other beach-oriented activities either.
The most fascinating yet gruesome thing about the atmosphere of this place was
the fact that there was a stink of fear and danger present in the air, but not a stink of
death. Probably, the cynical and rather spooked out voice of my subconscience cut in,
it was because the locals don’t leave out any bits of the corpses. I tried not to remind
myself this wasn’t extreme for this world at all; nothing was, in fact. And then it hit
me: here, there was no police. Except for, say, the occasional hunter. But even they
could never set every wrong right. Besides, how do you make an entire population
approaching in number that of China and the U.S. summed up change their views on
right and wrong? For them, it was just as normal to drain people as it was for people to
drain the contents of juice cartons. I’d be a fool to think they’d make an exception for
a lost skinny girl traveling alone in the night, carrying a suitcase that was much too
heavy for her, armed with nothing but an umbrella. This was no less than a dinner
invitation for the respectable citizens of this area – and I didn’t want to imagine
meeting the ill-reputed ones.
All of a sudden, the scent of the rain stopped being so magnificent, and it began
to feel way too quiet, and I acquired a passionate longing to recognize Leonard’s
house as soon as I could.

13
 But no outrageously depressing castle with an excessive amount of gargoyles on
top was anywhere to be seen – and, to add to this delightful situation, the shadows in
the windows of long-abandoned shops flickered and trembled, then thickened and I
could bet they held their breath and licked their lips.
It was very cold and the rain felt steely in order to compensate for the total
absence of proper wind. I shuddered in my insufficient set of plain clothes and prayed
that some sort of moon deity would answer my desperate call.
If only Leonard the vampire had a cellphone…
The shadows across the street condensed, enlarged and became three pined
cloaked bodies. Soon enough, some cackles could be heard, and I tried to convince
myself I’d dealt with this before, but to no avail. I’d never been so helpless in the
company of gentlemen with a taste for the redder drinks. Even if they didn’t like my
scent, they could still toy with me, and there was not a single thing I could do to stop
them… except maybe hit them with my umbrella…
I could already see their lily white faces… Right now I’d give almost anything to
spot one goddamn gargoyle.
‘Hey there, cutie!’ one member of the little gang rounding me up called.
‘Looking lost, aren’t we?’
‘Wait a minute, bud, she doesn’t smell quite right…’ his comrade in complexion
added doubtfully.
‘Oh, but she doesn’t smell very wrong either… well, well, well, looky here,
fellas, we got ourselves a no-turner! Isn’t that nice!’
‘We can’t eat ya, we can’t kiss ya… hell, then, what can we do with you?’
‘Oh, I can think of a number of things,’ barked the shortest one.
Yet another shadow joined in. The cackle that emerged from it was deeper,
smoother, and almost tender.
‘And the funny thing about it, fellas, is I am standing right behind you,’ the voice
announced.
Six heads followed the direction of the voice, mine included. I tried to pretend
I’d never even started to shake.
A vampire, taller and better dressed than the rest, loomed politely over them, and
he spoke just as politely to the little audience he’d gathered:
‘Leave the girl alone. Now. Or else you’ll probably wish you had, unless you are
particularly masochistic.’
A dim street lamp light in the distance flickered out in agreement. Still, nothing
but hyena laughter followed from the little fanged crowd. And the newly arrived
vampire smiled, just like they did in the movies.
Another good piece of advice is never to try to face off with someone kind and
well-dressed with a grin like that.
Twenty minutes later, after the spectacular fight, throughout which many necks,
legs and lamps were broken, the victorious stranger offered to help me find my way. I
was still a little uneasy, as he could very well be planning to use me as a midnight
snack just for himself. After all, ninety-five per cent of the local populations were
killers. The remaining five per cent were goners.
‘Oh, forgive me, I completely forgot my manners,’ my new companion with
dubious motives sighed out rather than said, dramatically, as all vampires do. I smiled

14
as he held the umbrella and the suitcase for me. It was amusing to witness someone
demonstrate impeccable grace and manners when that same someone – with
impeccable grace and manners, of course! – had just participated in a neck-breaking
competition and, counting solely on reflexes and fury, won. ‘I never even introduced
myself properly. Sorry, my hands are occupied… Anyway, I’m pleased to meet you.
I’m Huckleberry the vampire. And yourself?’
This kind of statement didn’t exactly leave much room for anything else. I was
too drenched and cold to laugh at his name, but I made a mental note to myself to get
to it at a better moment.
‘Um, I’m looking for Leonard the vampire’s – well, of course he’s a vampire –
mansion. Or castle. Or whatever. He used to be pretty famous around here, but – ’
‘Oh, Christ!’ Huckleberry the vampire exclaimed. ‘I mean, it is wonderful! Then
we can both go and visit him!’
‘You know him too?’ I was curious, but not shocked. ‘Everybody knew Leonard.
Back in his worse days he was a real monster.
‘Everybody knows Leonard,’ Huckleberry confirmed. ‘But Leonard and I, we are
like brothers. I’m the better one, in case you’re wondering. Come on, it’s not that far!
Jesus in heaven… Good old Leonard… we’ve seen so much together… most of it too
disturbing for me to want to remember… What’s your name, girl? And how do you
know Leonard? I’m sorry, I am just bursting with questions…’
Huckleberry was indeed quite a chatterbox, but at least I finally got to feel safe in
his presence. We made our way into a muddy alley three blocks down and then we
turned right, and walked on for a good half an hour, and he didn’t stop talking for a
second. I liked him immediately, he seemed like a happy vampire. Finally, we strode
across an untended lawn and reached a spiked iron gate covered with iron roses by
some insane gate engineer who apparently believed you could never have too many
roses and that all of them had to look like chubby swirly lollipops. Huckleberry waited
in ecstasy for a moment or two, then solemnly announced:
‘Girl, you’ve seen nothing but garbage until you’ve been here,’ he purred, and
his voice grew ever so tender. ‘Welcome to the real vampire world! You’re going to
love the gargoyles…’

15
 Chapter Two
The One Dream Overrated

Outside – Edgar Allan Poe’s dream resort, on the inside Leonard’s residence
looked as if he had not only ordered it to be in a Renaissance style, but he had also
tried to collect as much of the entire Renaissance as he could and stuff it into a single
building. I gasped in amazement at everything I was faced with as we progressed
along the countless corridors and stairs of the mansion. The excess of paintings,
sculptures, marble statues, expensive carpets any true collector would kill for, stained
glass windows, walls beautifully engraved in Latin words (and gargoyles, of course)
and clocks looking more related to art than to mechanics, left me speechless with awe.
Huckleberry was taking evident pleasure in observing my astonishment. And I didn’t
even remember to ask him where he’d got a key to the mansion from. Where did
vampires earn enough money to be able to afford this luxury and class from, it would
forever remain a mystery to me. They didn’t bother working regular crappy jobs, like
people, for most of whom it would cost a fortune and a lifetime of inhuman toil just to
buy off an inch of this place. Huckleberry seemed to notice where my thoughts were
going, and hurried to explain:
‘Ah, we have our ways, dear. See,’ he proceeded with a light smile, ‘vampires
have a lot more time on their hands to gain their wealth than everybody else. And, in
most cases, that wealth has been taken from somewhere else…’
‘So I thought,’ I murmured in disapproval.
‘…rather than earned with honest work. But we truly do hold our homes dear.
Leonard has not always lived in a place like this, you know. He’s had to survive really
poor conditions in his bad days…’
‘Yes, I know,’ I nodded understandingly. ‘I mean, back when he was still a boy,
a human being, he was really poor, right? Back when he wasn’t Leonard, just Leslie
Baker.’
Huckleberry appeared a little startled by my words, but it seemed he enjoyed this
state of mind nonetheless.
‘Oh no, I didn’t mean that far back… but you know that much about him? I
mean, he’s told you his real name and background? You must be a really close friend.
Most folks around here still believe he is originally French.’
‘Yeah, and he doesn’t speak anymore French than I do,’ I noted sarcastically.
Leonard’s false persona was one of my favorite topics. ‘He was never a nobleman
throughout his lifetime, either. Just a peasant…’
‘But he sure as hell doesn’t dress like one’, a voice flew from the direction of the
ceiling, a voice that oozed charm from every syllable. I recognized it instantly.
Leonard sprang down to the richly covered with rugs floor like a cat, landing on
all fours, and grinned in a cunningly innocent, cat-like manner as well. Then, he stood
up and stretched himself before us in all his glory.
There was plenty of glory to talk about. Huckleberry, on the one hand, was tall
and dark, and elegant, with thick, straight brown hair and a flawless posture, but he
seemed rather plain next to Leonard in his stylish blue vest, his eighteenth century

16
shirt and matching blue pants. Leonard was a tad shorter than his fellow vampire, but
he had the talent to mesmerize everyone who set sights on him, male or female. It
wasn’t just about looks: I immediately realized what had made him so popular and
wanted among the rest of his kind in the first place. Leonard had a peculiar radiance
about him, something boyish, something carefree, something unlikely lively for
someone of his kind, age and background. He always smiled as if it was the happiest
day of his afterlife, and he’d probably keep doing it until the last day of his afterlife
came. He often said he’d never been so cheerful while he’d been alive. And, indeed, I
wondered where all the cheerfulness came from, since his past was a long line along
which horror and tragedy followed each other in bizarre configurations. That was a
man who, apart from style, could teach you a great deal of optimism. Leonard had fed
on his own family and killed almost all of his old girlfriends – and they were many.
He’d been stabbed in the back – literally – by all of his close friends. He’d been
tortured, he had had to flee countries, he’d been voted dead, burnt and dismembered
(not necessarily in that order) in more than fifty vampire cities. If anyone deserved to
claim they had emotional baggage, it was indeed Leonard. And yet he stood there
before us, laughing childishly and waving at us, looking all too much like the Devil
himself with those long blond locks of his, giggling, joking and flashing his teeth like
he didn’t have a care in the world. Because, frankly, the world was his.
‘Wera!’ he exclaimed when he was me, dazzling me with a blinding smile, and
hugged me firmly when I approached. ‘That’s a lovely surprise! And Huck, old friend,
what are you doing here with her? This is just fascinating!’
‘I helped her take care of some, er, trouble,’ Huck muttered shyly, as if to imply
that saving someone’s life counted for nothing if you’d taken a thousand prior to that.
Leonard took no notice of it.
‘Oh, now, don’t be modest, you’ve made sure my dear guest arrives safe and
sound! Come on, aren’t you going to follow me into the central hall? I’ve just made
dinner, isn’t that a coincidence!’
‘You sniffed us as we were coming near,’ Huck objected to the coincidence
statement. His old friend displayed his pearl white set of fangs, always within the
borders of polite behavior, naturally.
‘Alright, yes, I admit it, but hey, I made the effort to cook and lie for you, didn’t
I? This means it is a great pleasure to have you here. Come on, join me. You won’t be
disappointed.’
The size and magnificence of the hall he led us into went without saying. We
were invited to sit at a table where we’d probably have to shout if we were to talk to
each other from each corner. To avoid this, we sat thickly next to each other, Huck and
I, and he pulled out a small notebook from the pocket of his crimson vest and started
scribbling something in it really fast.
As soon as dinner was mentioned, I expected a menu abundant in blood, but
Leonard surprised us with serving an excellent steaming pork stew with salad on the
side, and discreetly placed a wine glass in front of Huck and himself, in a manner
convincingly suggesting that the content of the wine glasses indeed consisted of
nothing but wine. Ten more points for style, I had to admit. But the truth was obvious.

17
 ‘I thought you gave up blood,’ I spoke five minutes later, already halfway
through the main course, with my mouth full. Huck coughed and took his eyes off his
notebook for the first time since we’d sat down.
‘Yes,’ he added not without irritation, ‘as a matter of fact, I thought so too,
Leslie. What happened?’
‘Oh, I gave up killing, is all,’ the other vampire clarified joyfully. ‘Can’t do that
with Liz running around now. But you know what they say… wine’s good for you
once in a while as long as it doesn’t become a habit… She’s asleep, by the way,
Elizabeth. I’ll have you acquainted tomorrow, if that’s alright.’
I responded with a warm smile. I was eager to finally meet Elizabeth, the
daughter of my best human female friend and the vampire I loathed so much when I
first met but whom I befriended later on in weird circumstances. Looking at him now,
I could see him being a wonderful father figure, and anyone who could see him beam
as he spoke of Elizabeth would agree with me. That is, provided they didn’t read his
curriculum vitae.
‘Oh, Leslie, whatever happened to that book you were going to write?’ I asked
out of simple mortal curiosity. ‘You know, about your life, before and after the bite,
and the love of your life, and so on? I bet it is going to be a great read, you’re really
great with words.’
‘I don’t know yet,’ Leslie frowned for a moment, ‘I did write the first couple of
sentences, but I don’t seem to know what else to say afterwards…’
‘I know what the problem is’, Huckleberry cut in with a friendly grin. ‘He starts
writing, but when he gets to the “I was born in” part, he can never seem to remember
what year to fill in afterwards.’ Leonard chuckled in agreement.
‘You know me best of all living and dead things, Huck, there’s no doubt about
that. But please leave your endless charts and calculations, and try to join in a bit more
often on the conversation, will you?’
On my left, Leonard nudged me with an exquisite elbow.
‘He’s a mathematician, a scientist, and an economist, you know. He keeps trying
to invent something that will improve the living standard of human beings. Or the
function of teapots,’ he added thoughtfully, and didn’t miss the chance to throw in a
charming smile accompanied by a wink. You could never call him boring even if you
didn’t listen to what he was saying at all.
The dinner was really pleasant and so was the conversation that followed, to such
an extent that I had forgotten to freeze. Vampire mansions had no fireplaces. They
didn’t need them, and they were just an unnecessary risk. Fire and firewood could be
especially dangerous in the wrong hands. It was for the same reason that most people
didn’t stack dynamite sticks in their living rooms.
Nevertheless, Leonard was a hospitable host. He most definitely hadn’t been
born yesterday, either.
‘Alright, everyone, it is getting a little late, so I’ll just go find something to warm
you up, Wera, and then I’d like to speak to you in private, if you will, and then you can
sleep in the largest bedroom, and you, Huck, can sleep on the floor or on the ceiling,
whichever one you prefer.’ A cheery flash of teeth once more. ‘Just kidding. You can
have the south wing bedroom all to your self. And in about five hours, when it’s really
talking time, maybe we can chat in private too.’

18
 I could never know exactly what that proposal really meant and I prayed
vigorously that I’d never have to find out.
Walking into the largest bedroom was like walking into a pot of gold. It was
wrapped in dark gold satin from wall to wall and from window to window, and the
sheets of the bed were no exception. The bed itself was held together by four diligently
carved marble posts, and the space in between them could easily fit a medium orgy. I
shuddered at the thought that this might have been the main quality Leonard had been
looking for in a bed back when he had picked this one, and tried to think about
anything but how many creatures had shared this bed at a time before me, and how
many of them Leonard actually knew by name. It was futile, as the horrid thought
grew and grew when the vampire invited me onto the bed’s edge and sat gently by me.
Soon enough, however, it became clear he actually did want us to talk.
‘Wera’, he beamed, ‘I can’t say how thrilled I am to see you after all these years.
You’ve done so much for me, more than most people I know would. Really, really,
I’m so charmed… And look at you, you’re beautiful! It’s unbelievable, seeing you
here!’
‘And you’re still a hopeless flatterer,’ I noted. ‘But, on the other hand, when
you’re saying it is good to see me, I can feel you actually mean it.’
‘How is Yana?’ he asked the imminent question.
‘Fine, I guess… What can I say… in love… suffering… hoping…’
‘I do hope it all works out for her, she deserves the best. The least she deserves is
to get her heart broken.’
‘Well, you ought to know that, you were the first one to break her heart, as you
well know.’
‘She broke mine a little bit in return, so I suppose we’ll call it even’, the vampire
sighed softly. ‘But I am forever grateful. I’ve never been happier in my entire life, now
that I have Liz. She is a blessing.’
Then, suddenly, his brow puckered, and he looked grim, and worried, and afraid.
‘Now, Wera, I didn’t bring you in here to talk about this. I believe we both know
the question I am obliged to ask you: what are you doing here? I doubt you went
through all this trouble just to come and see how I was doing… no offense. But you
hate this place, and you hate almost every person that lurks here. And even if you
don’t, you will, believe me. What are you doing in one of the most morbid places there
are?’
His sharp, concerned silver stare made me shiver and look away.
‘I’m not going to judge you,’ Leonard assured me, although he still seemed very
tense. ‘But if I am to know what to expect of this, I need you to tell me the truth as it
is.’
‘Very well…’ I replied, nervous and breathless. My mouth was dry. ‘I came
here… I came here to get worse… so that I can get better.’
‘Worse? What? What’s the meaning of this?’ Leonard’s voice had died down to a
whisper. ‘Oh, Wera, don’t tell me you came here so that I could teach you to be bad,
and cruel, and heartless. I’m through with this, you see, and you know very well I
could never make you evil, no matter how much you might need it to get better, or
stronger. You either have it in you, or you don’t. You could never be evil, dear,
because you just aren’t. You’re a good, kind-hearted, innocent person. You don’t need

19
this kind of darkness in your life. You’ve got it all, you’ve got love, you’ve got
warmth and happiness. What more is there to ask of life?’
‘I can object to all of the statements above,’ I replied with bitter hollowness. I
finally mustered the courage to look him in the eye. ‘Things… things have changed
recently.’
Leonard gasped in horror. He was too good at being dramatic.
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, what happened? Gosh, Wera, do tell me! I’m going to be
worried sick for a month if you don’t…’
I smiled joylessly at his compassionate face. And I began my story.

***

“And so, dear Leonard, my friend on an enemy basis, if you’d like me to tell you
my story the way you would have told it, I will start it from the middle. The first few
years after we met you are familiar with, so I will start a little after I turned seventeen,
right after that little accident you had at my house with my pet fiend, who did you
some irreversible damage, I cannot deny. So, yes, we are definitely talking about that
winter. The winter I got reunited with Charlie, my one true love, the very same winter
you encouraged me to go for it, to risk it all for love, and I did win him back after all.
And, to an extent, I owed this love to you.
Since then, Charlie and I began living a dream. True, it wasn’t love deprived of
pain and hardship, because no deep love really is. Several months later we were
convinced we could never exist without each other, and we swore never to part. I was
scared I’d lose him ‘till the very end… I made sure I got out of the way everything that
could ever stand between us, even many of the things that I held dear, and, somehow,
it worked out, and I believed it was worth it. All that was sacrificed was made up for
by a thousand miracles. Every look we caught, every feeling we shared, every kiss we
had was a dream come true. You know how we loved each other; you’ve loved this
way too. You also know that we were happily married just two years later. And this
would have been a great ending to the story, one that could be beaten only by a “And
they lived happily together, forever”.
But Charlie and I are not together anymore, Leonard, so I have to object to your
statement about the love I have. Love I do have, but it is not as it used to be. I will not
say it didn’t work out – maybe it could have, but I didn’t want it to. I won’t speak of
all the wrongs we did to each other: you have your ways to find out the gruesome
details, if you are curious. How things went from perfect to horrifying, I am not sure.
But, with regret I must say I suspect that what came between us was, in the end, me. It
was just who I was – who I am – that didn’t fit our relationship. I tried changing, but I
neither could nor wanted to change beyond a certain degree. I needed to preserve a
little part of me that was really me. Not me as they knew me, the insecure and
vulnerable girl who kept trying to convince herself she was stronger than she appeared
in the mirror, the girl who longed for and depended on love, and who put all of her
faith in love and love alone. No, I needed to preserve the things that girl learned and
grew to be throughout all these years, the things she made, achieved and understood,
for I knew that if I were anything less, when I lost love, I wouldn’t survive. And… I
lost it, willingly. You can blame me if you feel it is necessary. But the truth remains

20
that if I could give up the one thing I put the most faith and hope in for the sake of my
own survival, then I must be innately evil; and, also, if I felt miserable knowing I had
it all – love, then, as evil as I may be, there must have been something more than love
for me that I craved, and that thirst was powerful enough to overthrow every other
natural emotional human urge. And, the final thing I have to say is: since it happened,
I’ve been happier than ever. I do not regret making this choice. I regret hurting Charlie
in the process – but I am finally out of the blackness, I am breathing, I am free, I’m
strong and capable and complete. I am me, my soul is mine again. I’d missed it so very
much all this time some other Wera was thinking for me instead, the one who thought
she wasn’t even worthy of being loved. I even checked to see if I’d lose it if I did
something terrible, but no, it’s still here with me. I wouldn’t sell it, not even for love.
It’s not just because of the happiness. I feel there’s something bigger and more
important than love, even. And, for all of this, for my selfishness and weakness and
betrayal, I am not sorry. How wicked is that?
I see you are shaking your head in disbelief. Perhaps you will say that I cannot be
evil, that those are just the results of a post-traumatic experience, that you are sure I
had my reasons to be unhappy and to flee, and that I am still by far a most innocent
creature who would not have a stain on her soul, not ever. This I can also disprove,
Leonard. But to do this I need to tell you another story.
It happened on the second of August last year. By that time my relationship and
its communication were severely going nowhere, there was already word of
separation, and seeing it as you know I would have done anything to fix it at the time
and I would have died if I’d failed, I made an effort to repair it in the only way that
was left since all else had been in vain.
And you better than any mortal know what the temporary cure for all pains of the
soul is.
Lust.
Not that I had any left at the time. By then I was but a bundle of fear and despair,
with madness oozing from the cracks of a broken heart, if you insist on my being
dramatic. Back when I still had passion in me, I never truly got to fulfill my purpose,
as we – well, more Charlie than me – were waiting for the absolute perfect moment for
us to perform that fearful activity for any hardcore innocence supporter such as myself,
an activity that could become the holiest of virtues to the soul if exploited in the right
way. And I will call it by its real name this time: sex, because I am sick of using words
such as love-making. Love is not something you make, it is not something you build
with sweat and tears until you’re finally crushed under its weight – no, love ought to
be something lifting you up and giving you strength, instead of something you will
have to keep mending after the thousandth breaking. But, our love needed some
serious making at the time, and Charlie and I agreed it was the thing to do on that day.
Leonard – Leslie – you know me. You know I do not take the subject of
innocence lightly. So I was praying for another dream come true that summer night, a
rebirth of love itself, a miracle. It would wipe out all the horrid memories of impure
nights and eyes stinging with salty tears. Alas, I guess that out of all the dreams come
true we’d shared so far, that was the one dream overrated.
The routine went on, and I was cold, broken and hollow, inside and outside. All
that lingered in my soul was frozen terror. I felt that there was nobody around who

21
could hear me if I screamed, even though the skin of the one I loved was brushing
harshly against mine.
“Tell me something,” I implored Charlie, hoping he would say the words that
would make my sacrifice less painful, or more meaningful, or worth it.
“I don’t know what to say to you,” he answered. “What would you like to hear?”
I explained that I didn’t want to hear something just for the sake of hearing it;
that I needed him to say something to me that he’d mean, something unique,
something from the heart. “I love you,” he said, and added that I was beautiful. There
was nothing more to say, and there never would be.
I failed – and there it is, my hunger rising again – to obtain any consolation from
these words. I knew that he loved me, with all of his warm, bright and peaceful self – I
just needed to know why.
I desperately needed to hear the right words before I proceeded with the
performance of this special moment, the moment the accomplishment of half of my
life’s purposes depended on. And, blame me again, if you like, I sought solace in my
favorite song, but the CD player wouldn’t play it. Now that I look back, I realize that it
wasn’t meant to play it.
And then… then we fought, Charlie and I. I assume you know how furious he
gets about Frankie’s music. There was nothing wrong with the song. It was all love.
But we fought, and yelled, and I cried until I found it hard to blink and every touch of
my hands on my eyes burned like hot water. But, finally, we got tired of it more than
we got along. I got tired of resisting anyone’s attempts to change me. I resigned, and
we began again.
No matter what happened, I’d sworn we’d have to be one that night. We’d reach
the dream even if it turned out to be a nightmare. Our love deserved it after all these
years. If anything, at least I’d get to bleed for the one I loved.
I swallowed the fear, I swallowed the moral doubts, I swallowed the hurt inside
my chest and the past, present and future altogether. I was ready. There is no need to
fill you in on the details from then on. I will just say that, despite all of this, despite all
the pain I had pushed to the back of my mind for the night, despite all the pain my
body was prepared to feel that night (and it had seen some serious pains, mind you)…
it was not prepared for anything like this.
I remember crying with nothing but physical agony for more than two hours
straight. They may have been more, adding the breaks. I remember Charlie saying that
he wasn’t trying to hurt me. I remember the one word I repeatedly pronounced: “No.”
I also remember it was all for nothing.
When we finally gave it up, Charlie tried to calm me down with an inappropriate
joke. I said nothing in return. From the next day on, I spent many of my days visiting
various doctors specializing in various fields who tried to figure out what had gone
wrong. Some concluded that I was physically healthy; others considered my disease to
be rooted in some inborn defect. The best and most highly paid ones claimed with
certainty that it was both and the problem had to be collectively solved immediately.
Perhaps Charlie would have forgotten about it if I’d let him. Perhaps I should
have called it quits even then. But I wanted to fight for what I saw as holy, until the
very end. All other exchanges of love had gotten crude, and violent, and selfish, and
excruciatingly fearful, and they were but a drug, something to take our minds off all

22
that we’d been building. And that, my dear fanged friend, destroyed me more than any
loss, break-up or even death would have. I became a prisoner in my own mind.
The year after, many months later, everything was over between me and Charlie,
and I was back home where I’d started. Back where it all had happened. But I wasn’t
planning on quitting on life. I was determined to learn to love breathing again, if it had
to drain me dry first. I didn’t get away just to die, and I didn’t go through this just to
suffer the damage forever. I had a plan.
On Tuesday, the sixth of July, I signed up for a voluntary operation at the local
hospital. I’d passed a thousand allergy and blood condition tests prior to that, a piece
of information you might find intriguing. After draining a little more of my blood, the
surgeons put my shaking through and through body under complete sedation. The
operation room went blurry and while I was sleeping, I dreamed of rainbows and
sunny meadows.
What the procedure was all about to me was that I had forever removed that one
thing that I could never bring myself to give anyone after what had happened: my
virginity. In itself it was suffered, annoying, unhelpful and useless, and yet I did not
believe there was a man in my world who would ever need or appreciate it in the way
he ought to.
Still, out of that grim decision, something beautiful grew. I woke up from the
best sleep in my life, I spilled the best blood that had ever run through my veins, and
the sunlight was blinding and divine as I lay underneath the white sheets, smiling
softly to myself and the fading pain. And suddenly, I had everything to win and
nothing to lose.
Apart from my soul, which was forever to remain mine from then on. And this
feeling grew and grew ever since, and fewer and fewer things hindered it as time
passed. I’d had my innocence gambled away and I’d got rid of my chastity willingly. I
burned everything down in order to build something new.
A few months later, I reaped success after success, I recovered fully with only a
minimal assistance of music, and I even got to feel my heart intact again.
That is just about my story.
As for Frankie, whom you already know a little, he is somewhat involved too.
So, you see, he also believed he had found his one true love. And they were happy.
But, see, Frankie remains a creature of the night, like you, or even moreso. He doesn’t
want to be happy. He wants misery, drama, horror, tears, heartache, darkness. And, the
moment I felt all of these so intensely on that dreaded August day last year, he woke
up in his lover’s bed covered in sweat – he was a human then… it’s a long story – and
choking on his own terror, or rather on mine, for due to our unique bond he had felt
exactly what I had back on that night. From then on, he was so afraid, afraid as a
young girl experiencing the violating power of love, that he couldn’t bring himself to
kiss, or do anything with this girl. She thought it was her, and when he set off to help
me immediately after his dark vision of me in pain, things completely fell through
between them.
When he came back to me, my anguish, shame and hatred turned him back into
the fiend I’d always known him as. He is at home right now, guarding the place. And
the funny side of the story, Leslie, is that I really need no guarding any longer.
Because, for the first time in my life, I am fine.”

23
 I smiled. It was hard to push my soul through the story again, but, at the end, I
felt perfectly calm.
‘And that was a really good ending to it, wasn’t it?’ I asked. ‘Or should I say
beginning? So, what can I say, Leslie… maybe I didn’t come here to go back to being
evil after all. Maybe I just came here to go back to being me… whatever damned thing
I may be. It only makes sense that I belong with the damned,’ I added cheerfully, but
stopped as I felt his clawed clutch around me. And then I saw the vampire’s face.
Two lines quickly becoming redder and redder were streaming down his pale
bony cheeks, and where they passed, they left elegant burns. I gasped. Vampires do
not shed tears often, but when they do, it does them more damage than regular people
due to the fact that their skin, unlike humans’, recovers from anything but the marks
crying leaves over the years. And vampires usually have many, many years to cry, and
no matter how rarely they do it, it still adds up.
That and the lack of vitamin D (obtained from the sunlight, among other things,
and delivered to the skin) explains the permanent dark rings around their eyes. In case
you ever wondered.
It hurt Leonard way too much, I knew, and I wanted to find a way to make him
stop, but he kept stubbornly dripping gems of genuine care and compassion onto his
shirt, and held me tighter, as though I had survived a world war, or something.
He alone could grasp what this had cost me.
‘I’m – I’m sorry…’ I muttered, and felt like crying myself upon seeing him smile
tenderly through the scarlet pits his hot tears were digging into his handsome face.
‘Damn you,’ he sniffed and started wiping his eyes with a handkerchief, which
got quickly soaked in red, ‘damn you, wolf girl!’ That was a long story too. ‘Damn
you to hell and back! Talking to me about dreams overrated! In my time, I’ve tried
destroying innocence where there was none, but this… this is too much for my poetic
heart to take! We’re talking crimes of the soul, and you’re here now, alive and well,
talking to me like life goes on… Damn you thrice, girl, there’s something damned
about you alright! ‘Cause you know too goddamn well what can make a vampire cry!’
Leonard waved his hand at me in a “you’re hopeless” kind of way, grinned
madly through his fading tear scars again and left the room, humming something to
himself.

24
 Chapter Three
The Hunt

The next morning there was no sunrise to wake me. It was what I usually
counted on to stir me from my sleep in the mornings, but the day in the world that was
specifically fit for vampires to populate was at best characterized by an equivalent of a
foggy dusk of a rainy day. The thing that truly succeeded in waking me up on the
second day of my visit was the inviting scent of fruit tea and biscuits.
It entered the room, soundlessly followed by Leonard with a tray loaded with
breakfast material. The presence of the freshly prepared warm meal in the room was
more audible than his. If he’d planned to sneak up and kill me without waking me, he
wouldn’t have any trouble with it.
‘I thought I needed to make up for my reaction last night,’ the vampire smiled
softly and made an explanatory gesture towards the biscuits. ‘It was positive, actually,
even if it didn’t sound like it. And no, I still am not a supporter of the theory of your
evilness. I’m just proud that you went through all that without it destroying, or
corrupting you. Subject closed.’
‘Oh, I am corrupted alright, you just don’t know it yet,’ I grinned in return, and
took the tray from his hands with gratitude. ‘Thank you,’ I added shyly. ‘You
shouldn’t have, but it is very kind of you.’
‘Well, I assumed your corrupted self needed some corrupted biscuits,’ Leonard
gave me a reassuring wink and watched my reaction as I wolfed up the contents of the
plates on the tray with unconcealed satisfaction. ‘Don’t worry, real breakfast is waiting
for you in the second dining hall to the left. I know you do not consider food anything
without meat in it.’
‘Hey, I’m not that much of a predator,’ I smirked. ‘But thanks for considering my
carnivorous nature.’
The post-breakfast meal consisted of a juicy steak and some chips. My mood
seemed to be just as good as it had been the previous morning, with the same pleasant
catchy tune stuck in my head as I attacked plate after plate waiting in vain for the sun
to rise. I was beginning to worry; I had been this way for almost a month, nothing
capable of upsetting me. I might as well have been replaced with someone else while
I’d been sleeping.
Leonard’s uplifting disposition was also at its best. Huckleberry, on the other
hand, had barely touched his meal, or his notebook, for that matter. He had sunken into
a private gloom of his own and didn’t seem like the happy vampire I saw when I first
met him.
‘What’s the matter, Huck, old friend?’ Leonard cast a cheer-up smile at his end
of the table. ‘Should I have put something extra in your biscuits?’
Huckleberry frowned, but reached out and took a biscuit anyway because nothing
came before good manners.
It is a known fact that vampires use blood as their main source of nutrition, and it
was – in most cases – compulsory for their survival, but true vampires with style did
not restrain themselves from culinary luxury as well as any other. It is a myth that

25
regular food no longer has the same taste for them once they’ve been bitten. A vampire
who would refuse a meal prepared to a good French recipe was not a ferocious
vampire, just a stupid one.
‘They’re fine,’ Huck muttered under his nose, throwing a quick icy glance
back at Leonard, as if he was trying to stab him with it, then turned to me. ‘I’m sorry,
Wera, for being so moody this morning. The fault is in the one sitting over there,
smiling now like he’s as happy as a bird, but your friend Leonard gave me quite the
headache last night as he cried for two hours on my shoulder. You must have had a
very disturbing conversation,’ he added. I felt guilty about it.
‘I’m sorry,’ I prompted in shame. ‘I really didn’t intend to affect him this way. I
had no idea he’d get so upset over something like this.’
‘I value beauty, that’s all, and that is nearly all that can make me cry,’ Leonard
presented his excuse. ‘Everyone has something beautiful within them, and in your
case, it is the spark of innocence… Hearing the story of all the risks it was put through
was naturally something that would sadden me immensely.’
Huckleberry let out a stifled sarcastic grunt. All eyes turned towards him.
‘You didn’t seem to be so upset about risking my innocence,’ he remarked
jealously, and thus succeeded in making his friend acquire a faint blush, which is
indeed something for a vampire. Leonard coughed politely.
‘Well,’ he began, ‘that is an entirely different matter, Huck, you know that, and
things were different back then as well. I’m a changed man now. Besides, even if we
assume that your innocence was your greatest gift, there is no hard evidence that I
threatened it in any way.’
‘True,’ Huck nodded with respect, ‘you did no such thing to my innocence. You
just showed it the door the moment we met, and when it wouldn’t walk out
voluntarily, applied multiple shot wounds to its head.’
‘And you’re enjoying it to this day, are you not?’ Leonard retorted. Then, he
resumed his imminent dazzling grin. ‘But let us drop this somber subject for a while.
All is well that ends well. You two finish up here, and I will go kiss Liz good morning.
Once she’s down here, I want no talk of gunshots through the head and what not.’ He
stood up gracefully, went over to me and whispered cheekily in my ear: ‘Listen, don’t
mind my friend Huckleberry. He’s a bit touchy when it comes to my being nice and
sensitive to others while he’s the one I’ve probably been the most insensitive with
through the centuries. Personally, I think he’s grown up to be so grumpy because of
the funny name his mother gave him, don’t you?’
I realized the moment had come to take a rain check on the bulk of innocent
jokes that had been piling up in my mind ever since Huck had introduced himself to
me.
‘Yeah, it’s weird, isn’t it?’ I agreed, lowering my voice nearly to the mute. ‘Why
is he called Huckleberry the vampire? I get “vampire”, but why “Huckleberry”? What
were his parents thinking?’
‘I can hear you, you know,’ Huck reminded irritably, and I could tell by his
weary voice that irritation was an emotion Leonard’s jestful nature had inspired in him
on more than several occasions. ‘Perfectly clear, too.’
‘Oh, but we were merely discussing your noble origin, dear Huck,’ Leonard
explained, his face as pure as the dawn itself. ‘His family must have been great fans of

26
the novels of Huckleberry Finn and his friend Tom, I find it adorable, actually,’ he
hissed shamelessly in my ear a moment later.
‘You got a problem with Mark Twain?’ snarled Huck all of a sudden.
Two heads shook in an instant.
‘Nope.’
‘Not at all.’
‘He’s brilliant, actually.’
‘I’m quite a fan of him myself.’
‘Good,’ the vampire’s face brightened, and from that moment on, nobody spoke,
letting him finish his breakfast with underlined triumphant satisfaction. It was then that
I realized what had turned Huckleberry from a sullen vampire into a happy one. It had
undoubtedly been Leonard. Whatever he’d done with Huck’s innocence, he’d done a
good job. I made a mental note to myself to avoid at all costs making Huck an
unhappy vampire.
After breakfast Leonard disappeared for a few minutes, and then returned into the
hall with his little daughter Elizabeth. She was a lovely two-year-old with a cloud of
dark blond hair around her pretty little head, and was dressed like a princess. Nobody
could help but like her. Visually, she’d inherited many of the features of her father, but
her charisma, lively, playful spirit and her large chocolate eyes were undoubtedly
taken after her mother, Yana, who also happened to be my best friend. We’d studied
together in high school, and even back then the company of our classmates was a little
too ordinary for our taste. It was through Yana that I’d gotten acquainted with
Leonard, who was doing some serious stalking and lusting after her at the time (those
were still his bad vampire days), and after many years of his persistent courting she
finally gave in to his wicked charms. They were no longer a couple, of course,
because, let’s face it, such relationships never work out in the real world, to which
unfortunately Yana was bound, while Leonard – born Leslie Benjamin Baker – was
only bound to the world of infinite darkness and that of the works of Shakespeare and
Mozart. And neither Shakespeare nor Mozart – as Yana would have cleverly pointed
out – could pay the other half of her apartment’s rent at the end of each month.
Elizabeth had a lot to play with even in Leonard’s creepy mansion, and Leonard
saw it as a wise thing to let her do things on her own every now and then, mostly
because of Yana’s fears that were Liz’s father around her at all times, he would teach
her to paint like Da Vinci and play every possible musical instrument before she’d
turned five. This was why Leonard and Huckleberry vanished into a basement room
for about ten minutes and returned with a number of bags and briefcases, encouraging
me to follow them out the main gate.
I put on half of the clothes I owned to protect myself from the chilly weather
outside and we went out into the thick steely mist. It must have been noon, and yet the
overall grayness of the conglomerated fog and clouds only served the kind purpose of
concealing the midday sky, which was pitch-black as ever, with an eerie crimson sun
bleeding in its middle. We walked south, as I was informed, deeper into the darkness,
until we reached a forest probably designed in accordance with a Grimm Brothers’
fairytale, and the souther we went, the colder it got.
We were so carried away in our conversation that I didn’t for a moment wonder
where we were going (yes, I was informed that we had gone out for a refreshing walk,

27
but where exactly we were walking towards, it was a mystery to me). It was not until
we were marching deep into the tangled web of withering coal black trees – black was
apparently this season’s color in the vampire world – that I found our walk a little
suspicious.
‘Hey, you’re not trying to find a decent spot to murder me discreetly, are you?’ I
joked in a feeble voice, and eyed Leonard and then Huckleberry. I wasn’t sure if
anyone would find it hilarious; I knew I wouldn’t. If I was going to die, it would
certainly not be in these clothes.
The vampires on both of my sides laughed.
‘No, of course not,’ Huck assured me in a mild, soothing voice. ‘That would be
ridiculous.’
‘Yeah, ridiculous. You’re vampires, after all.’
‘What Huck meant to say is,’ Leonard finished his friend’s thought against his
friend’s will, ‘even if we weren’t good, noble, trustworthy guys and we weren’t your
friends either, we still wouldn’t try to feed off you, Wera. You’re a no-turner, and even
though it has never been proven that drinking from a no-turner is completely lethal, we
still wouldn’t dare try it. You never know what damage we might end up with
afterwards. The scent warns us, you see. No vampire in his right mind would ever dare
attack you, not for food anyway. You’re not like any other human being to us. If you
were, someone would have already tried to drink you, sleep with you, or both.’
‘Okay,’ I nodded slowly, with a virtually non-existing degree of understanding of
what had just been said to me, ‘those vamps that surrounded me last night in the street,
they used the same term in relation to me as well. A no-turner. Doesn’t sound very
inventive, I must say. I have some suspicions as to what it may mean, but please, do
explain it to me further, if you will.’
You could tell that Huck was the bookworm of the two, because he fiercely
interrupted Leonard the moment he opened his mouth.
‘A no-turner,’ the brunette vampire spoke loudly, ‘is a very peculiar breed of
creature. It is not as bound to certain genetics as regular humanoid species, well, not
that we know of, so we never tried exploring or determining it further… for our own
safety. I assume you are aware of the major humanoid species: angels, some breeds of
demons, vampires, werewolves, elves, you get the idea. Werewolves and vampires, as
you well know, can’t stand each other, it’s in their blood as well as their mentality.
They’ve fought for nearly as long as humans have fought each other. I’m sure you also
know that werewolf and vampire don’t mix. Under any circumstances. Vampire blood
cells mixed with werewolf ones coagulate and become useless, vampire and werewolf
genes destroy each other, werewolf blood into a vampire’s system results in the
vampire’s death. Forget about kids; no werewolf can so much as kiss a vampire
without killing said vampire, for even a werewolf’s recently secreted saliva, along with
any other bodily fluid, full moon or not, is lethal even to the mightiest vampire’s
system. Chemically speaking, the wolves are a little luckier in this aspect. Can’t say
they haven’t used this to their advantage throughout our wars with them… although,
there have also been accidents. But I can tell you already have an idea. Now, as you
also well know, this is the world where most of us belong. In your world, vampires
and werewolves don’t have the same reality status as you humans do; otherwise we
would have killed most of you by now, and your world would be in big trouble.

28
You’re just as real to us here as Leonard and I are to everyone else in our dimension,
but most people in your world can’t see us or be affected by us in the way they could if
they were here. There are ways… but I won’t speak of this now.’ He stifled a cough
and shuddered even though he could feel no cold, but went on nevertheless. ‘Anyway,
there are exceptions, sometimes, like you, like your friend, and so on. They can see us
even if we are just visiting. But there’s the other kind of exceptions, too. They’re what
we call no-turners. You know how werewolves – more often than vampires – vary?
They are sometimes wolf to a greater or lesser extent. Some of them, once they’ve
turned wolf, can’t go back to being human. All of these anomalies are locked within
the borders of this world, but sometimes… there are the rare cases where one of us,
them, or other humanoid kind, is born into the wrong dimension. They’re simply
regular people who have a little something of a vampire, werewolf, or else within
them. But they don’t get fangs, or the blood thirst, they don’t burn in the sun, or avoid
silver, or turn into wolves during the nights of full moon… hence their nickname no-
turners. No, I’m not talking about people who are fond of werewolves, or vampires.’
Huck gave me a stern look. ‘I am talking about people who are like them. Those who
bear a resemblance of the soul rather than the taste of apparel and such. People whose
minds, inclinations, manners, instincts, and needs of the heart are more like those of
vampires or werewolves rather than regular humans. They may have never even
listened to vampire metal once in their lives. They just bear a connection.’
‘And that would be you, wolf-girl,’ Leonard winked gleefully at me again.
‘You’d be a werewolf no-turner. And when you are here, we all feel it. It’s not just the
inexplicable repugnance you feel for everything vampire-related, without being able to
explain it, it’s not just your inborn inability to ever be a vegetarian, it’s the way you
think, the way you feel, the way you sense things, the instincts you count on, the
qualities you are drawn to, the emotional hunger – ‘
‘Yeah, I get it,’ I interrupted him quickly. ‘But my repugnance for most vampires
– no offense – is not inexplicable at all, just for the record.’
‘It’s understandable,’ Huck shrugged impassively. ‘I often hate vampires too for
being bloodthirsty monsters who kill for a living and have no mercy for any other
soul.’
I shook my head determinately.
‘No, that’s not why I hate vampires,’ I corrected him vigorously. ‘I hate vampires
because they’re posh, vain, self-centered snobs who’d marry their mirrors if they only
had a reflection, who only have interest for women in dresses with a cleavage and
never sit down to eat with less than five different forks on the side.’
‘See?’ Leonard beamed. ‘She sounds like a true werewolf! Doesn’t she impress
you, Huck?’
Huck could only blink in amazement.
‘Well, yes, I suppose that proves it…’
‘Oh, that is nothing. Wait ‘till you’ve heard her speech on blue roses. She’s a
werewolf at heart, there is no doubt about that.’
‘But’, Huck ventured to continue with a voice so serious it bordered on
foreboding, ‘nobody can know for sure if this begins and ends with the resemblances
at heart. No-turners can very well carry an underdeveloped gene that can evolve in an
environment like this. Here, everything is possible. So, your blood, your bite, or even

29
your kiss might very well be lethal to us, just as if you were a turning werewolf. If I
am correct, you might have noticed – if you’ve ever quarreled or anything – that
Leonard will wince if you growl or display anger towards him. We try to keep
werewolf no-turners at a safe distance, avoid getting close to them or making them
furious, and we never, ever, drink from them. Like I said, anything can happen here.
Even the vampire with the poorest sense of smell in the world will know that you are
not something he’d like to swallow.’
‘Then again, we do feel somewhat drawn to the other no-turners, though,’
Leonard added with yet another devilish wink, ‘or, as we often jokingly call them,
nocturners, haha. It is a very popular joke in vampire circles,’ he stated proudly. I
snorted.
‘Yeah, I could tell it was a vampire joke, since it isn’t funny at all.’
I was pleased to have Huck genuinely laugh at my joke, at least. His pale
companion eyed him sharply.
‘Whose side are you on? Anyway, the nocturners are people who are, in some
ways, like vampires. Werewolf bites will probably kill them, but that’s just because
they work very well on people too. A werewolf bite is a pretty massive one. As for the
werewolf kiss, probably not. They’re related to vampires mentally more than anything.
They haven’t got the thirst, not the blood thirst at least, they haven’t got that well-
developed fangs, and none of them can shape-shift, that’s for sure. We don’t take them
very seriously, because there are far too many posers among them. You know,
growing boys and girls who have watched too many movies about vampires, ones that
want to be like us, dark creatures, but what they really enjoy more than anything is a
day in front of the television. Trivial things. The real nocturners are hard to find and
harder to distinguish from the false ones. But, usually, the ones who can tell them apart
the easiest are werewolves and no-turners like you. Because you will feel irritated by
them to some degree beyond what is logical, and they will make your blood boil with
instincts you never imagined you had. You know us vampires, we fancy almost
everyone who isn’t an idiot. It’s not quite the same for us. But you should be able to
tell the difference.’
‘I believe I am,’ I confirmed gladly. ‘I am pretty sure I can think of several
nocturners I know quite well even now.’ Then something came over me. ‘Hey, I got
quite distracted. What I meant to ask from the start is where we’re going. Just curious,
that’s all.’
‘Oh God, didn’t we tell you?’ Leonard exclaimed in false surprise. Huck rolled
his eyes towards the morbid sky.
‘No, you didn’t, you twit.’
‘Oh, but we are going hunting, of course! We brought everything necessary for
it. It’s going to be fun, Wera. I felt obliged to help you unwind since last night, and
you are definitely going to enjoy this, I promise you!’
I gasped in horror and revulsion.
‘I hate the very idea of hunting!’ I shrieked before I could help myself, and the
grim forest shrieked with me. ‘What are we hunting, anyway? Don’t you know I hate
animals – and all life forms – getting killed? How do you determine this as fun,
Leonard?’

30
 ‘Oh, you will see,’ he grinned at me in a maniacal way, and that was a way of
grinning I thought he’d given up years ago under Yana’s rehabilitating influence. ‘You
will love it. I guarantee it. I’ll sooner drop dead before the possibility of you not
having the best kind of fun today. Just don’t tell Yana, okay?’
I didn’t say anything in response. I just waited patiently for Leonard to drop dead
any minute. Alas, he kept standing.
‘Follow me,’ he urged with an aristocratic wave and a frantic smile lighting his
face, and then he plunged forth into the darkness.
Huckleberry shook his head in gloomy disappointment and wearily suggested
that we’d better go after his temporarily deranged friend.
‘Huck… what on earth is he up to?’ I uttered hesitantly as we sped our pace up
once Leonard had vanished out of sight. ‘And where is he going?’
‘I have no idea.’
‘Okay, then please tell me, what is it we are going to hunt?’
‘I have no idea,’ Huck answered monotonously. I tried hard not to panic. But I
did.
‘What? Then how come you agreed that he took us hunting in this god-forsaken
forest in the first place?’
‘I have no idea.’
I growled. Indeed, this world did something to your instincts.
Huck shrugged helplessly.
‘I’m sorry, Wera. He’s just got charm. Or something. We’d better walk a bit
faster, I’m confident he’s running.’
‘Running from or running towards? Don’t tell me: you have no idea.’ I grunted
angrily again, then muttered to myself: ‘Vampires… they are so naïve…’
After running like crazy for about twenty minutes, I leaned my back against a
rotting tree, breathless, sweating and therefore freezing. It was only the fury that was
keeping me from going numb.
‘I don’t understand,’ I moaned when Huckleberry locked my arm in a steely
clutch and forced me to resume the mad running only a minute later, ‘I really don’t get
it! Has he gone insane? I thought he didn’t do spontaneous deranged things anymore! I
thought he was a changed man!’
‘He is,’ Huckleberry sighed hopelessly, and dragged me relentlessly onward.
‘Unfortunately, he’s not a changed monster.’
And we sped on until the midday blackness engulfed us.

***

‘We lost him,’ Huck announced some time later, when we were already tripping
over a web of moist twigs and branches, scratched and mud-stained from head to toe.
The amount of running we’d done had far exceeded my physical exhaustion capacity. I
desperately cursed myself for not having listened to the advice of my father when it
came to the importance of physical exercise. Even in my own world, unfortunately, I
counted as a weakling.
’Oh no,’ I whimpered, partly with the pain and the cold, and partly out of habit
in such situations. ‘Now what?’

31
 ‘Don’t worry, that’s probably a good thing. We should work on getting lost as
soon as we can, too.’
‘What do you mean?’ my voice sounded more accusing than I’d intended it to.
‘He’s probably lured the prey right to us. I can smell them already. They should
be six, maybe seven.’
‘Are you telling me that we’ve gone out to hunt things that will now be hunting
us? I suppose they won’t be bunnies, now, will they?’
‘Not even close. Listen, they’ll get to us sooner or later. When they spot us, you
shouldn’t let them fool you into being merciful. That’s the thing about them, see.’
‘What thing? Can you at least give me a tip on what they look like?’
Huckleberry smiled a small sharp smile that could only have been evoked by
sheer terror.
‘You’ll smell them before you see them. I already can, it makes me sick. Soon
you will too.’
I tried my best, but was paralyzed with the realization that I had a cold and my
nose was completely stuffed.
‘But I have a cold and my nose is completely stuffed!’ I shared my deep
reflections with the now shaking vampire. He wasn’t exactly helping me not to shake,
I thought with annoyance.
Huckleberry cackled evilly. Then, he threw me against a birch tree. It was as
simple as that. To him, at least.
From my point of view the world was swirly, spotted, painful and much more
threatening. I wondered if there was any reason for Huck’s outburst, or if it was
merely a result of the common pressure.
High-pitched howls filled the air, and if my head wasn’t about to explode at that
moment, it would have commanded my body to stand up and hit the road.
‘Forget it,’ my vampire acquaintance muttered under his breath, ‘we’re too late.
We’ll just be running for the sport now. Oh, and I am truly very, very sorry about that,
Wera, but it seems you need a little… encouragement. Wait for it…’
The shrieks were closer and closer, yet they seemed to emerge from the thinned
icy air rather than anywhere near us.
‘Wait for what?’ I yelled, putting my sore throat through a thousand hells.
Huckleberry didn’t answer, but his gut-wrenching smirk, which had gotten nearly
to the level of Leonard’s maniacal grin, was the last thing I saw before the entire
landscape before me turned red.
And then, I smelled them. The scent of these creatures, whatever they were, filled
each and every one of my senses, and a moment later four of them were completely
useless as they were, so they were forced into serving the sole purpose of perceiving,
reflecting and swallowing the smell better, for the nose alone was incapable of doing
it. Huckleberry and the trees vanished, and in a moment all that spread before me was
a scarlet hell filled with scarlet shadows, diving, speeding and dashing in the air
around me and through me, letting out screams diluted with tender moans and sweet
whispers, but I was blind for their beauty and deaf for their tragedy – the scent, the
scent that was clogging around me, suffocating me, trying to burst me open, that was
the only thing in the world that existed to me right now… It could only be compared to
the fresh, pleasant fragrance of ripe strawberries, but it was so thick, so dense, so

32
sickeningly intoxicating, that you could not tell whether you wanted to get rid of it or
be killed by it, drunk and drugged and breathless and surrendered… But something in
my nature kicked and clawed against this rush, it made me quiver with sickness as I
tried to shake it, like a cancer, off my mind and skin and soul… And from the moment
that part of my nature was triggered and decided to kick off, all I could remember as
myself was the red curtain before my eyes, the dim light that spread above them, the
screams that had suddenly gotten shriller and shriller, and the taste of the most
powerful substance I knew running down my sore throat…
Occasionally, I’d see Leonard’s toothed grin stretched to the point of lunacy
through the crimson mist, his face smeared from end to end with a scarlet stain in the
shape of a bloom… and then the wind stabbing at my ribs would take him away…
I ran, and I ran, and I ran yet further; and at the same time that which was
running was not me. It was as if I was watching the world through someone else’s
eyes, someone who could see smells clearer than images and whose blood boiled so
hot it had set their brain on fire… I felt like a dog caught in the rush of trying to fetch a
flying stick… and all those beautiful, strawberry-scented sticks flew by violently, like
arrows, their shrieks were driving me crazy… And I was sitting and looking at myself
jump, and Huckleberry was leaping like a tiger to and fro, and Leonard was laughing
frantically beside a fallen tree, his vest gone, his shirt torn…
… nothing was as clear as the red fog until I caught one of these sticks, and the
sticks all turned into shrieking women, beautiful women, trying to fly away or claw
my eyes out, but the eyes were so bloody they didn’t care, and the women’s throats
stood so white against their scarlet medieval dresses that they were just begging for
something to come along and paint them red like everything else…
…This afternoon, I was an artist.
The figures slowly began to disperse with low, fragrant whimpers, and melted
into the trembling autumn air, taking the red mist with them, soaking it up into the
cracks of nothingness that slowly opened up here and there to reveal the real world.
The thing that was yet wasn’t me was holding an attractive, voluptuous woman
in a laced red dress, which quickly remained the only red thing around, apart from the
woman’s neck, which wildly poured fountains of strawberry aroma and blood directly
at my face, and the more blood it poured, the more the flow of the poisonous
strawberry opium weakened and drained… and, as soon as I was out of its smothering
clutch, I saw myself, and then I became myself, a pale, dark-haired, plainly-dressed
girl leaning over a dying body in red, my blood burning at the sight of it, my teeth
sunken deep into the jugular of the victim, and her blood covering my lips, and cheeks,
and chin… I loosened my bite, stared at the woman’s once beautiful, but now
disfigured face in sincere amazement, and just a moment or two before I withdrew
terrified, gasped, or cried in horror and revulsion, someone’s skinny arm hit me hard
on the neck.

***

I opened my eyes and blinked gently, and stretched peacefully in the large golden
bed. I felt warm, safe and satisfied. My arms were holding onto something smooth and
fluffy, and I didn’t want to let go of it for any reason. It was probably the best morning

33
yet and it would have been if the most recent vague memories hadn’t become clear,
sharp and vivid in my mind. I shrieked, sprang up in a twitch, and ran into the faces of
Huck and Leonard. Huck looked morbid and worried. Leonard looked like it was his
birthday.
Huckleberry was dressed in a black suit, and Leonard – in emerald velvet. In the
corner of the room stood a large iron tank filled with steaming water. A set of claret
and blue clothes drenched in blood were sinking miserably into it.
My body was in captivity of unpleasant thrills. I didn’t want to say anything until
someone told me that none of what I remembered had happened for real. Leonard
waved cheerfully at me.
‘Hey, Wera! Good to see you come аround, you’re up just in time for dinner!
How are you feeling? Better than ever, I assume?’
‘You idiot!’ Huckleberry hissed ferociously at him. He was clutching his fists so
tight it felt as if he was ready to tear his comrade apart – and he probably was. ‘How
dare you do something like this? Do you have any idea what the word “consequences”
means? You’ve damaged this girl forever!’
‘No, Huck, dear friend,’ Leonard disagreed gallantly, ‘you’re the one who’s
damaged her. If you hadn’t knocked her out at the very end, she wouldn’t have missed
out on half the fun!’
‘Fun? Fun?! You call this fun? What you did was monstrous!’ Huck was now
losing his precious temper and manners. ‘What were you thinking? Now she’s going to
believe she’s really committed murder!’
A small, pathetic whimper could be heard. It came from me.
‘I did… didn’t I? I killed that woman… I bit nearly half of her neck clean off… I
slaughtered an innocent human being without even knowing what made me do it…’
‘Well,’ Leonard began with eyes as bright as the sun and a grin as wicked as the
Devil, ‘about the biting and slaughtering bit, you’ve nailed that one quite right. But
that wasn’t a human being. Night nymphs, is what we call them. They haunt only the
particularly dark forests. And I happen to be the owner of one of those. So, it is all
completely legal, don’t worry.’
‘Completely legal?’ Huckleberry shrieked. ‘That was immoral! Look at what
you’ve done, she’s shaking! You’re immoral all the way through!’
‘Immoral and immortal are two very similar words, Huck, you’re forgetting. But
I’m thinking you’ll get along with Wera just fine, as she too uses that word very much.
Why don’t you go over to her and soothe her, and tell her what a bad guy I am, and
then we’ll ask her what she thought of the experience, okay?’
He modestly retreated to a corner. The expression on his face clearly said he’d
already won whatever the game he was playing was. Huckleberry went over to me and
sighed heavily.
‘Listen, Wera… night nymphs are really, really nasty creatures. They usually
lurk in forests, preying on lost travelers, taking advantage of men – and sometimes
women – who happen to be passing in the vicinity of their lairs. They enchant their
victims, seduce them, and you know what I mean by seducing – and then, they kill
them, and with every murder, they get to absorb a fraction of the victims’ soul. This
might sound a little hard to believe, but it is true, and it’s also very serious theft. Night
nymphs resemble women, they drug the passengers on their lecherous scent, and then

34
kill them in horrifying, slow ways at which even a vampire would shudder… and, their
kind should have been extinguished by now, but… let’s just say our race is keeping
them around for twisted fun, games, potential military purposes… and, sometimes, just
out of sheer fascination with anything that is more evil than them. You have not
committed a sin. Please, do not worry about this. You shouldn’t. And, really, I swear, I
had no idea what Leonard was getting us into… He led them right to us, and then…’
He sighed heavily again. ‘He deserves no forgiveness for what he did to you.’
I would have cried, but I couldn’t. My eyes were dry, my insides felt dry, my
skin was dry with terror, and my lips were cracking. I did not know what to say. I felt
as if this was just some sort of theatre play, that it was all a joke, it wasn’t for real. My
mouth tasted as if something had died in it. I shuddered, and damned myself for not
being able to cry once more – something had died in it. Or by it, in any case. And as
evil as it was, I felt ten times as evil at that moment.
I still remembered the feeling…
‘B-but why… why didn’t you try to stop me?’ I moaned in disbelief. ‘When I
started… chasing them… k-killing them… You just… watched me go berserk or…’
‘We’d all have been dead by now if we’d stopped you,’ Leonard remarked from
his unrighteous corner, calm as the gentle breeze outside. ‘We needed you as a force.’
‘I don’t care!’ I cried, and the echo ricocheted from the wide golden walls around
me. ‘Why did I do it? Did you know this was going to happen? Am I a monster?’
Huck determinately said “No” at the same moment Leonard determinately – and
happily – said “Yes”. I burst in tears, and was thankful for it.
‘Listen to me,’ Huckleberry spoke quietly to me, and allowed himself to embrace
me numbly in a fit of compassion. ‘You didn’t do anything wrong. See, night nymphs
do not affect humans and other creatures in the same way. We can tell there’s
something wrong with the feel of them, we can sense them as they approach. Humans
can’t. We’re partly influenced by their alluring aroma, but we can keep ourselves
sober enough to it to resist it. And some vampires – like that moron over there – enjoy
putting themselves to the test this way. There is always a risk, of course. Now, other
creatures… such as, as you well know we’ll get there, werewolves… they react to
them differently. Unexpectedly. They are, too, partially influenced by the lust trip
these women give you – ’
‘ – but that’s not the lust you got, girl,’ Leonard chirped cheerfully from the
corner.
‘That was lust?’ I interrupted in astonishment. ‘That sticky, concentrated
feminine scent… that was supposed to be lust? Then why did I suddenly feel like
killing?’
‘For a no-turner, you know surprisingly little about werewolves, dear,’ the blond
vampire raised an eyebrow cunningly. ‘In a word: it’s how they work, in most cases.
And, this world, darling, it enhances whatever bits of beast you might have in you.
You should have thought about it when you came here. I was worried at first, but then
I decided we could turn this glitch in the system around and have some fun instead.
Good thing it wasn’t the full moon, though, otherwise we could have had a massacre
on our hands, and probably nothing left to hunt…’
‘You’re insane!’ I spat out the furious statement before it could pass through my
brain. The brain was busy with different things. ‘Why did you do it? Why do you even

35
keep such creatures in your lands? What’s the point in that? Do you enjoy… what,
satisfying the leftovers of your murderous lust, or… or…’
I couldn’t help but notice the gravely silence that had conquered every molecule
of the air in the golden bedroom. Before I could say anything to apologize upon
realizing I must have opened a bad topic for discussion, I could see two pairs of
vampire eyes lower down to the floor in embarrassment and shame.
‘Don’t tell Yana, please,’ Leonard uttered very quietly. ‘And Liz must never,
ever know. It’s… I’m sorry… it is hard to be stuck in this horrible dark place for ages,
all alone, I mean, with no one but Liz to hold and talk to, and this horrible world out
there passing me by… I need to let it out somehow. It is so hard to follow this diet, to
keep the number of recent murders zero, to keep feeding on cookies and to raise a
child with the best and brightest of impressions… I can’t do it, not like this.’
The silence that reigned in the room could devour us all.
‘But you have this too, Wera,’ the vampire continued apologetically. ‘The lust,
the hunger… it is a matter of time before you realize it. I thought a lot about what you
told me last night… and all the other things that happened to you before that… It’s all
terrible, and I do feel for you, but I slowly realized that most of the misfortunes that
befell you were merely a result of your attempts to ignore, and even worse, fight, your
own nature. You can’t escape who you are, that’s what I tell everyone. And since
you’re here, since you told me you came here to be you… I thought you were through
with the prejudice. Yes, of course, you can blame me if you like,’ he added with a
polite shrug, ‘and you’d be right… And I assume it’s best if Huck and I left you to
your thoughts now, but before we go, I’ll just tell you this one thing…’
I waited with clenched teeth. My insides had gone from empty to stone cold and
loaded with shards of ice.
‘…did you like it? Be honest to yourself. Do not say this to me, answer it for
yourself. Try to sincerely tell yourself that you didn’t enjoy the hunt. The hunger is
within you, dear. But if you will, please try convincing yourself it wasn’t the best thing
you felt in a while – and there’s nothing quite like it. Not just some silly, shallow
guilty pleasure. Tell yourself it wasn’t a wholly fulfilling experience for you. And if
you believe it when you do, you are free to leave and never see me again, if you wish.
Huck and I will walk you back to where you came from, not to worry. But, if you fail
to believe yourself when you tell yourself there is not one bit in you that ever wanted
to be a monster,’ Leonard let a shy, but undefeatable smile crawl across his pale
remorseful face, ‘then, you will be so kind to join us for dinner, and for an elegant
dinner too, after which we will go to a party. I really wanted your stay here to be
colorful and eventful, Wera. I’ve made sure it is so. But I’ll leave it to you to decide.
Take your time and come back to us when you’ve made your choice. Huck and I will
be in the kitchen, it’s just down the dining hall, to the right.’
They left me to the mercy of my mind, which was really just waiting for my
hosts to leave me so that it could tear me apart like I’d torn apart that woman in the
forest. The few tears I had shed for her had dried on my cheeks and were probably
looking for a way back in. My heart was numb, and there was no explanation for that. I
plunged into the abyss of the thoughts that I’d been hoping to escape, but I knew I
deserved them. There was no time left to be a coward anymore. It was time to face the
truth. About why I’d come, and what I had hoped to find here.

36
 For hours I stared blankly at my pale reflection in the gilded window covered
with thin frost on the outside. I stared at it, desperately trying to find Wera, or a
version of her. I still saw a girl with the same features that appeared on each of my
photographs throughout my lifetime, and yet I could not find anything about them
similar to what I remembered seeing in my reflection in the past. What I was looking
at now was a girl with hair as dark as that damp, rotting forest I’d just come back from,
skin as pale as the moon showing confidently out the window, growing in strength and
size night after night, lips as cold as the autumn air, expression as firm and stalwart as
that of a wild animal preparing for a fight… jaws clenched, nostrils flaring, eyes
composed, focused and stalking – stalking no other but myself from the other side of
the glass… and I felt like prey and a hunter at the same time, afraid and proud, thrilled
and doomed, and then I looked away, thinking of Leonard’s words…
I knew what awaited me if I went back. Not just home, but back to the old Wera.
If I did so prematurely, she might be able to still find me and be me… And, from then,
what would follow? University, work, possibly a pointless relationship driven by
dependence and dirt… It was a world too horrifying for me. Things had changed a lot
over the past few years. Blood and misery could not scare me as easily as they did
back then. I’d seen so much of the latter that it had become a part of me that I could
never sell out in exchange for oblivious bliss. It was too late for all of that. The old
Wera still had some power left, of course, and it lay with all the people back home
who thought they knew her but didn’t. But I was different now, after what had
happened. I would not let her hunt me down this time. I would not turn back – not
before I was ready to bite back, anyway.
I looked down at my cold feet, and my cold hands, and my coat and socks and
worn-out jeans. I liked my attire as it was, it was simple and comfortable and modest.
Leonard knew me all too well – he knew I’d come to dinner after all, and he knew I’d
probably show up in my oldest and plainest clothes just to defy him. He was perfectly
aware I didn’t give a damn if the items I was wearing were suitable for an exquisite
dinner in the company of vampires followed by an exquisite vampire party.
That was irrelevant to me. And still, the clothes I was wearing didn’t fit a hunter;
they fitted only someone who was nothing but prey. And that I did give a damn about.

37
 Chapter Four
Fever

Leonard had probably practiced his gasp when he saw me enter the kitchen after
a little bit of wandering about the mansion trying to find it, but I forgave him anyway,
because he performed it all too well.
‘Mon Dieu!’ he exclaimed excitedly as I walked in, slowly, in order not to trip
and fall on my face. ‘Do let us creatures of the night feast on your glamour and
radiance!’
‘You overdid it, seriously,’ I replied with a modest smile. ‘You put so much
sugar and vanilla in this sentence I know there won’t be anything for dessert.’
‘Wait for it,’ said Huckleberry, who seemed to be in a slightly better mood than
he was before, ‘just a moment now and he’ll tell you “Au contraire, ma chérie.”
‘That may be true,’ Leonard ventured to display some unusual decency, ‘but how
else am I going to get you to wear a dress again, ma chérie?’ he emphasized
obstinately on the last words, staring fiercely at his old friend. Then, he restored his
calm and lavished me with charm.
Huck led me into the dining hall and pulled up a chair for me, apparently
determined to compete with Leonard in grace and gentlemanly behavior, and I sat
down in between them, in order not to offend anyone. I had to give it to them, I was
being treated like a lady. Years ago, Leonard would never have believed that anything
similar to a lady would ever become of me. Years ago, I’d sooner spit in the collar of
Leonard’s favorite leather jacket than sit next to him at a table. But now, somehow, we
were getting along, and that was amazing enough in itself.
It had to be the dress. It was somewhat old-fashioned, black and knee-long; I’d
borrowed it from my mother’s wardrobe. It was nothing much, but of course, someone
like Leonard would probably say that it was not just about the dress you were wearing,
it was the way you wore yourself while you were in it. He’d probably spent a lot of
time in dresses, I thought with a certain amount of ridicule towards him. Still, fair was
fair, they must have belonged to women he’d undressed, and undressing was a tough
job back in the centuries of his youth.
The dinner was splendid, a work of art nothing was left of merely half an hour
later. The cooks had outdone themselves, and I had to commend Leonard for not
owning any maids or other servants in addition to all of his other possessions. He did
everything by himself, but in this particular meal Huckleberry’s precise mathematical
touch could be felt.
‘This was delicious!’ I flattered them both when I was done with the dessert (I
was wrong about it, there was dessert after all, and it was mind-blowingly exquisite).
‘I mean, I honestly don’t compliment food very often… but I am really impressed and
honored, guys. I don’t know how I’ll be able to eat anything else at that party tonight,
though. This was enough for five Weras, really.’
‘That was the point,’ Huckleberry explained. ‘There won’t be any little treats on
sticks where we’re going – or at least none that will be to your liking. Our hosts
tonight are a little more… traditional than we are.’

38
 ‘Meaning the menu will consist mostly of bloody blood with blood in it and
blood on the side… you get the idea,’ Leonard winked as he always did. Nobody
winked quite as stylishly as Leonard.
‘Ah, I get it. Well, it is a good thing I ate then.’
‘Don’t worry, though, there might be alcohol, in case you’re wondering.’
‘Great,’ I muttered sarcastically. ‘I think I’d rather stick to blood, then.’
‘Suit yourself. Very well, then,’ Leonard happily clapped his hands together, and
jumped up in exaltation. ‘We’ll probably get going soon, if you feel ready to leave. I’d
put on a little more make-up if I were you, though. Don’t get me wrong,’ he corrected
himself immediately, ‘you look fabulous. It’s just that you don’t look… err, dark
enough, you know. It’s a vampire party, and you know what this usually means…’
‘I don’t need make-up,’ I retorted with irony, ‘I’m dark enough on the inside.’
It wasn’t my idea; I’d seen the phrase in a quiz somewhere on the Internet, but I
thought it worked to mock the entire vampire culture, the understandings of which
weren’t all too far from the gothic culture. Unfortunately, it seemed Huck was the only
vampire who gladly laughed at my jokes.
Leonard, on the other hand, took it way too seriously.
‘Nonsense, dear,’ he shook his head morbidly. ‘Look at you, you’ll look like
Little Red Riding Hood entering the wolf pack. I’d rather not see that. Please. For your
own safety. Lipstick. Now. And lots of black around the eyes. Someone might think
you’ve slept every night for the past ten years of your life.’
‘It seems the standards are quite different here,’ I concluded, evidently pleased.
Where I came from I’d always been seen as tired, moody, strange, detached,
sometimes even creepy. Here, I could probably even pass for a normal person.
Leonard saw the confident glint in my eyes, and beamed an encouraging smile at
me.
‘I’m very sure we’ll have a great time,’ he said. ‘Come, I’ll help you pull your
hair up. I miss the old days when we’d go to such parties all the time. We could take it
up again, how about it, Huck? In fact, I have a feeling this will be happening a lot from
now on. I sincerely hope you have brought more dresses like this one, Wera, because
you sure will be needing them.’
My unprepared silence said it all.
‘Never mind,’ Leonard prompted as soon as he realized what the situation was,
restrained himself from rolling his eyes at the fact that my nature would never quite
yield into the customs of high society, and waved his hand around in impatience: ‘I’ll
take care of it all. Now, just make sure you look rather wicked for the party tonight.
You too, Huck, don’t try to slide out of the conversation like this. I still have a
reputation to uphold, after all, and would they ever invite me to another party if they
saw me hanging out with a couple of saints.’
Huck’s eyes and mine met in a silent ocular smile. He extended an elegant white
hand towards me.
‘Lady Wera, shall we?’
‘Why, thank you, Mr, um,’ I refrained from using the name Huckleberry, as if I
did he could perceive it as irony, and that was exactly what it would be. ‘Sorry, what’s
your last name?’ I asked.

39
 It was at that time that Leonard, who was already busy combing his own hair,
burst out in uncontrollable and completely disrespectful laughter.
‘Go on, buddy,’ he urged Huck. ‘That’ll be a treat.’
Huckleberry blushed almost as deeply as a mortal would.
‘Cleanwood,’ he bellowed stoically. ‘That would be my name.’
Leonard’s mad giggling was the apogee of immaturity, since it came from a five-
hundred-year old person. I took no notice of it. I was beginning to feel sorry for Huck.
After all, I didn’t have the best name in the world either. That was why I’d given
myself a name of my own. Perhaps he ought to do the same.
‘Mr Cleanwood, if you please,’ I smiled encouragingly at him, and took his ice
cold hand in mine. I was pale, but next to him, I looked rather tanned, and together it
seemed as if we were prepared to go to an obscene funeral. He stood by me, serious as
a soldier. He was a good-hearted, reliable fellow, I realized, and being a vampire had
hardly influenced his moral values. If he had been born in my world, I would have
loved to have him as my older brother.
Finally, Leonard joined us, dashing, sharp and self-sufficient, and marched us to
the main gate triumphantly.
‘What about Liz?’ I wondered, as we were walking out into the perpetual
darkness that now probably counted for evening. ‘Is she going to be okay on her own?’
‘I’ve had friends of mine take care of that,’ the blond vampire reassured me.
‘Don’t worry about a thing, wolf girl. It’s forbidden. Tonight, we are going to have a
ball.’

***

The spooky castle we walked into about half an hour later was in no way like
Leonard’s spooky castle. Naturally, it had the obligatory gargoyles on top of all its
towers, but one could tell that the architecture was much more advanced, historically
speaking. All of the windows were brightly lit and flared against the iron blackness of
the night. Music could be heard in the distance, and there was no doubt it did not
emerge from an organ or a piano. Leonard would criticize it if he wasn’t so elated as
we approached the quarters of the party. He held genuine music very dear. He himself
owned a piano, and a couple of violins, and a guitar, and I was certain I’d probably
even find a triangle if I searched his mansion thoroughly enough.
A butler who astonishingly resembled the gargoyles sculpted on the towers
opened the thick wooden gates for us, which were, most likely, covered in engravings
of scenes from the satanic bible. He looked our names up a list, and then sniffed me as
suspiciously as I would have sniffed him if someone had forced me to. He would have
raised an eyebrow if he had one.
‘And you are?’ he snarled at me.
‘Mistress Cleanwood,’ Huckleberry stepped up and introduced me before I could
come up with any ridiculous version of myself. ‘She’s with me, and we are
accompanying Mr Leonard, as you well know.’
‘Hmm,’ the gargoyle descendant grunted. ‘I see. So, you remarried, then?’
‘That is none of your business.’

40
 ‘I bet your relationship is very passionate, then, between you and this… hm…
creature.’
‘More passionate than any of yours, I’m sure. Now if you’ll let us through,
please, you might even retain your ability to have children.’ Leonard hissed from the
back.
I’d never have imagined anyone reacting like this to childish, wayward Leonard.
He simply didn’t scare me, only disturbed me, made me laugh, and occasionally made
me cover my eyes in shame when he spoke dirty to my best friend. I knew I could call
him Blondielocks any day and get away with it. I was therefore stunned to see the
monstrous butler’s complexion wane even more, if this was possible, and he began
stammering nervously and gave way to us immediately, bowing energetically and
pouring out a litany of apologies.
It seemed Leonard’s reputation preceded his appearance, and far exceeded his
current disposition. Yet, when we were led into a corridor brightly lit with torches and
richly decorated with statues of naked women, the sweet, sentimental Leonard I knew
became the vicious predator he had been before I’d known him.
The crowd parted in two as if commanded from above – or below – upon seeing
him walk majestically towards them, as though they were the Red Sea and he was
Moses. He inspired a mixture of awe and fear, I could tell. A crooked steel smile
danced on his face, and made the other guests tremble. Huckleberry was murmuring
something in disapproval under his breath. As we were walked into a larger corridor
and then to the hall the party was evidently held in, I felt all eyes on us and got cold
chills all over my body. I could not believe that I, along with two vampires with an
obscure past, in my mother’s dress and my mediocre make-up, was walking among the
most notable representatives of the nocturnal high society, most of which would
probably tear me apart the instant they saw me pestering their world with my presence,
but due to the quality of my company, the most they could afford to do to harm me
was to wiggle their noses in disgust as I passed. I didn’t care; I’d received treatment
far worse in the human society. Condescending glances, offenses murmured by
strangers, spiteful cackles behind the back, open mockery – it was where I came from.
I couldn’t give a good goddamn if those creatures liked me or not. I needed no
reminder that the mortal standard for having a good time among vampires was getting
invited to dinner and not subsequently becoming dinner. As long as that went as I
hoped it would, there was no reason for me to complain. In fact, I hardly saw any
reason to complain of anything anymore, which was highly unlikely of me.
As a matter of fact, I was still having a genuinely good time an hour later, and
that wasn’t just because I hadn’t been murdered yet. Leonard was off to pretend he
was seducing a few vampire fans of his who were still a tad too young to know it was
best to avoid him at all costs. He was struggling to preserve his fearsome reputation,
which had been the one thing that had ensured his survival for the past five centuries.
Meanwhile, I was standing in a corner having a pleasant chat with Huck over a glass
of white wine.
‘You know, if they put enough olives into this, it might actually get to taste
better,’ I contemplated out loud as I shuddered and twitched in disgust after every
painful sip. Whatever the taste, however, the drink was definitely having an effect on
my mood. That, and the vibrant light was beyond dazzling.

41
 ‘Are you kidding? This is great stuff!’ Huckleberry shouted passionately, and I
decided I’d best not object any further. ‘It’s my favorite. We used to get a bottle of this
for our every anniversary, Sarah and I.’ He sighed dreamily, and his eyes got redder.
Whatever was left of my functioning brain at that moment informed me that it
was most likely that he was talking about his ex wife, the one that the gargoyle-like
butler had mentioned.
‘What happened between you two?’ I ventured to ask, hoping I wouldn’t regret
it.
‘Take a wild guess,’ Huck sighed again and drained his glass. ‘Don’t worry, it
doesn’t hurt as much anymore.’
‘She… she passed away… I am so sorry, Huckleberry…’
‘No,’ the vampire shook his head grimly. When he continued, his voice was dry
and hollow. ‘She didn’t pass away. She didn’t die, either. She was brutally butchered,
as if she were an animal. When I found her, she lay in pieces on the bed we’d shared
for five years in a puddle of her own blood. I was devastated.’
‘Oh, God… I am so, so terribly sorry… You… You’re very strong, to still keep
going after all that has happened…’
‘I have no choice,’ Huck shrugged coldly and looked away. ‘I thought of killing
myself when she was murdered, you know, going to watch the sunrise for a little
while, or something like that, but it would have been cowardly. I couldn’t just get
away with death, you see, I had to live on and suffer until the end of time, because I
was the one who killed her, after all.’
My jaw dropped, my hands started shaking and I stared unseeingly at
Huckleberry, hoping my eyes would somehow convey compassion, but they must have
expressed nothing but horror and denial.
Huck nodded with a trembling, wretched smile. I no longer felt safe in his
company.
‘Yes, that’s true. Leonard the monster’s sweet, respectable, righteous friend.
Together in murder. Who would have thought?’
I still blinked blankly against him. Yes, that was exactly what I was thinking. It
couldn’t be. Huck was not the person who would do anything like that. Leonard I
could picture being associated with all kinds of atrocities and vile acts of cruelty, as he
had a sort of Jekyll and Hyde things about him – but Huck, prudent, peaceful Huck
who killed his own wife in a most abominable way… If he had a Hyde version of
himself, I’d truly be worried if I could envision it. Apparently, it was true that it was
the pious and virtuous ones that turned into the most horrific beasts in the appropriate
circumstances. And it wasn’t just Huck that was a good example of this pattern. I was
one as well…
Huck caught my thought, and I was grateful that we’d get to redirect the
conversation towards a different kind of murder discussion. I didn’t want to know how
he’d killed his wife, and why.
‘You’re still thinking about the hunt, aren’t you?’ he cast an insightful glance at
me, and I was relieved that he did so. ‘You shouldn’t. This doesn’t make you evil.
Believe me when I say this: there is a monster in us all. Here more than anywhere in
the universe.’
Hearing it from Huckleberry, it wasn’t hard for me to believe it at all.

42
 ‘Are you mad at Leonard about what he did?’ he inquired peacefully.
‘No,’ I replied. ‘I don’t think there would be any use of it. If anything, I ought to
be mad at myself. And I know you’re already mad at him for me.’
‘Correct. But you shouldn’t blame yourself. It is only natural. These things can
even happen to you in your world. What you did is not a crime, it’s… nature. For you
and me, and the nocturnal elite around us, it’s something we cannot escape.’
‘Do you really believe that?’
‘Look at me. I’ve tried to prove my nature wrong and to defeat it all my life. For
nearly two centuries now, I’ve been successful. I might never steer from the right path
again, even though “never” is a much longer period of time than you might think,
much, much longer than “forever”. But the price for my restraint was high – Sarah.’
I’d do anything to make him stop talking about Sarah.
‘Look at them,’ I waved at the dancing, drinking and chattering black-clad crowd
that surrounded us. ‘They look so… careless. They probably killed loved ones and
drained innocent little girls as well, and yet they don’t give a damn. They’re not like
you and me. I myself have only seen Leonard repent for his sins once. He is not
tormented by the lives he’s taken and ruined.’
‘To him, conscience is a nuisance,’ Huck shrugged. ‘To me, it is the only excuse
I have to call myself anything more than a plague to mankind. It helps me by hurting
me… after all, isn’t pain how you still know you’re human? Figuratively speaking, of
course.’
‘To me, it is a little bit of both,’ I took another strong sip at the olive-lacking
glass of white wine. ‘To be honest… I envy them,’ I waved my arm at the sea of pale
faces the hall was packed with. ‘There’s nothing they’ll ever regret. And, in their own
heartless madness, they’re as happy as being undead allows them to be. Look at that,’ I
remarked, ‘that delirious community of people deserving prison until they rot, dressed
all in black and red, not knowing how much worse the afterlife can be…’
‘Hey, how are you guys doing?’ Leonard popped out of nowhere, slapping Huck
on the back and seizing the opportunity to flash his perfect teeth once again. He was
tipsy, and that took a lot of effort and liquid for a vampire. ‘Yep, I completely agree.
Speaking of black and red, you should have brought more black and red for yourself,
Wera. That’s all we wear here, you see. Well, maybe velvet blue, or deep purple, or
claret, you know? But black and red… what can I say? It never gets old. Get the pun
on immortality?’ he finished ecstatically.
‘I still don’t find vampire jokes funny,’ I replied with murderous honesty.
Leonard did not seem one bit discouraged.
‘Oh, you just haven’t heard the tea joke yet,’ he explained all-knowingly, and
wobbled on one foot a little. ‘You’ll drop dead with laughter when you hear it – ’
‘No,’ Huck objected in a rush of panic. ‘You’ve corrupted the kid enough. There
will be no tea jokes tonight.’
‘It’s okay, I’ve heard it…’ I muttered quietly, but the two vampires, one drunk
and one sober, were too busy arguing to hear me. I had to admit it to myself, with a
fair share of embarrassment, that the tea joke was kind of funny. Nevertheless, it was
obscene, shameless, offensive and distasteful. Just the way vampires liked it.
The dizzy friendly fight that ensued between them sobered me up a little and all
of a sudden I was deafened by the booming of wailing vampire metal music which

43
made the walls throb and which I’d somehow miraculously managed to ignore up to
that moment. The gravely, dragged out tune with lyrics with a lot of words like “cold”
and flesh” in them seemed to inject adrenaline straight into the brains of the fighters,
and soon several other slightly intoxicated bloodsuckers joined in, and it was at that
time that I realized that the party had a good chance of ending in tears if we didn’t
politely go home straight away. Some of the older participants cast hostile glances at
me filled with promises that I’d rather they didn’t get to keep. I shyly approached the
bundle of limbs and expensive laced fabrics that was now the core of the struggle
between Huck and Leonard on the floor, and humbly asked them to act like grown
men, but to no avail. I was beginning to worry about my own cold flesh, and what was
to be left of it in several minutes when my two brawling patrons would have knocked
each other out – in a friendly manner, of course. They scratched and clawed, hair was
pulled, ribbons were torn; the mayhem was at its peak. Something needed to be done,
and yet there was nothing to be done. We were drawing too much attention to
ourselves.
‘Hey, guys,’ I began with growing uncertainty, ‘don’t you think that you can
maybe finish this up at home, because I really don’t like this particular song, and the
DJ looks like he might get mad at me if I ask for some Guns ‘n’ Roses…’
The next thing I recall was falling over the pile of kicking and screaming
vampires accumulated on the floor, and as I became one with the throng gone wild, I
felt the wine glass break in my neck…

***

Usually, all of the days of my life’s story began with the appropriate “I woke
up”, but this didn’t normally apply to my afternoons, and none of my days until this
visit had been preceded by unpredictable blackouts. I wasn’t used to this.
I was in the bedroom of gold satin, again, and thick irritating fabric was brushing
against my neck, clutching it tightly. I was aching all over and felt colder than I’d ever
been since I’d got here.
Leonard’s face swam in sight out of the dark yellow blur.
‘I hope you enjoyed the party,’ he began with fraudulent innocence. ‘I know I
did. It was wild! You passed out just before the best part, unfortunately. I wonder if
you’re doing it on purpose.’
‘You’re a… troublemaker,’ I grunted weakly. ‘Now I know what Yana saw in
you. What… what happened…’
‘Uh-uh-uh. You tell me you enjoyed the party first, and then I’ll tell you about
the party. It’s the thirteenth of October, by the way. You were out three days. No,
please, don’t jump up. You’ll damage yourself.’
I growled at him, but I lacked the strength to put too much menace into it. I
sighed.
‘It was wonderful. Bright. I liked the change of atmosphere. This mansion is way
too dark and dreary… It was all great… up to the point you decided to play third grade
games with Huckleberry… Now, why did I pass out? I wasn’t that scared…’
‘Ah,’ Leonard nervously slid a finger across his collar. ‘That is a rather serious
matter which I am about to discuss with you now.’

44
 ‘Where’s Huck? You didn’t put him in hospital, did you?’
‘There are no hospitals here. And no, Huck’s fine. He’s looking after Liz now,
keeping her busy. He came up with a number of arguments as to why this was all my
fault, and therefore I felt it was my duty to be the one taking responsibility for what
happened.’
‘Well, of course it was your fault. Everything has been your fault so far.’
‘Yes… yes. Now, let me tell you what happened.’ The vampire’s smile melted
away, and was replaced by a shade of concern on his face, which was paler than usual,
and – of course – had no sign of cuts or bruises.
‘Go on,’ I said. ‘I’m prepared for anything.’
‘Well, here’s the deal,’ Leonard began. ‘One, when you passed out, a glass broke
in your neck. So I’d be a bit more careful with your neck if I were you right now.
Huck helped me take out the shards after we’d finished drooling – what, blood is
blood, after all, - and bound it, so it’s going to be okay soon. But it will leave a scar,
unfortunately. I’m very sorry, Wera. At least you will have something on you to
remember me by.’
‘You’re still not funny, Leonard. Go on.’ I sighed disappointedly. ‘I can sense the
bad news is yet to come.’
‘So it is… the bad news is… well, I wouldn’t really call it bad… It regards the
reason why you passed out. Or, rather, blacked the evening out. But, to explain it
properly, I’m going to have to tell you something about the lunar cycles around
here…’
Thankfully, I was in no state to do any deep thinking. Otherwise, I would have
had way too many suspicions creeping into my weary mind.
‘It’s a different world; no, a different universe. So, here we’ve got two moons,
see, and they’ve got a much bigger influence on the… the… on those whose… moods
are dependent on them. Due to this we’ve got the phenomenon of a full moon twice a
month, as each time the moon stays full for about a week. It’s how our world works.
So, according to the lunar calendar, the first day of the first full moon for this month
happened to be the day we went to that party… only I didn’t know it ‘cause there’s no
moon during the day, obviously, and… and they had the curtains down in the hall,
and… It influenced you, the moon. It triggered something in you, something that,
unfortunately, wouldn’t have been there to trigger – not to this extent, at least – if it
hadn’t been for me taking you to that hunt. “The hunt is but a sweet disease”, as you
know,’ he recited, ‘but it is also a dangerous thing. While I aspired to free you by
helping you become the thing you were meant to be, I awoke something in you that
felt the brief taste of freedom was a bit insufficient for it… and now it seems to want
more… which is not necessarily a bad thing, of course… you’ll just have to sweat it
through…’
I tried to lift myself up, but the satin pillows were way too slippery, and my head
finally surrendered.
‘What do you mean?’ I snapped as fiercely as I could. ‘No, don’t tell me, I’m not
stupid. All those times, with you calling me wolf girl… then, the whole no-turner
business… Then, the hunt and the murder lust or whatever… the taste of the hunt, the
lunar cycles, this world enhancing whatever monster you might have in you… Are you
about to tell me I’m going to be a werewolf from now on?’

45
 ‘Certainly not,’ Leonard denied vigorously. ‘I mean, why would I, since you
figured it out for yourself?’
‘You’re insane!!!’
‘Okay, okay, calm down,’ the vampire spoke softly, taking a cautious step back.
‘It’s not exactly like that. That’s not something you’ll be. Not exactly. Hopefully. You
might experience some…. changes, though. But, hey, isn’t that what you wanted?’
‘I suppose nobody is going to repair my neck, either!’ I was furious.
‘I think it’s fine the way it is. That wound is rather spectacular. It thrills me every
time I look at it.’
‘I’ll thrill you a great deal just as soon as I get out of this bed! Get out! Get out!’
I slipped back into the blurry abyss I’d emerged from. I tried to get hold of
Leonard’s concerned face, but the blood in my veins seemed to pass through my body
like fire. I was burning and writhing, and I lost my grip of consciousness again, about
which I hoped to remember to be very pissed off in the morning. I had a dream that
night, in between the flames, caught in the trap that was my own skin. It involved the
Devil – or was it Leonard? – and fire, and blood, and garters, and white wine…
… and I spent God knew how many more days in the clutch of the blind, restless
fever, dreaming of black-clad people dancing around me, and red women being
murdered, and a grim black silhouette with a strange gold necklace, who was all skin
and bones, examining the tattoo on my ankle, and that same silhouette trying to seduce
me and pressing his head against mine as we watched the sunset together from a
regular couch… and the dark silhouette whispering, into my ear on the side of my neck
where the wound was, the words that stuck inside my head throughout the fire and the
sweat and the distant screams of night nymphs with wine glasses: “Enough with the
hunt… let’s get on with the eating…”

46
 Chapter Five
Leave It At Home

Huckleberry and Leonard had probably spent a good deal of time watching me
sleep, sweat, scream, moan and cry while they waited for the fever to pass. Judging by
the relieved expressions on their faces, it must have been quite a rough struggle. Later
on, I’d feel the relief of all the unconscious crying I’d done myself and somewhat
subconsciously acquire the inexplicable certainty that I’d never get to cry over
anything again for as long as my stay there lasted. When I recovered, I was not back to
normal. I was new.
A week later the only reminder of the recent events was the scar on the right side
of my neck. The blood had clotted and the wound’s crust had peeled off surprisingly
quickly. I was certainly not the regenerating type. The scar comprised of a dozen small
shapeless cuts, crossed and tangled in a web of damaged skin. I was slightly stunned to
come to the conclusion that I could not relate the memory it had imprinted on my neck
to anything bad. I didn’t feel anything negative for either Leonard or Huck, either. In
fact, I almost felt as if the sun was shining in through my window – figuratively
speaking.
‘So, what is to become of me?’ I asked cheerfully the day I was able to get out of
bed for more than a few hours, with which I scared the jeepers out of Huck, and made
Leonard laugh his head off. There was certainly something wrong with him after five
centuries of walking, hunting, and seducing the earth.
‘If anything, we’ll find out tonight,’ said Huckleberry, surreptitiously casting
murderous glances at his fellow vampire when he wasn’t looking. ‘Let’s hope our dear
idiot friend isn’t right about it, otherwise it’ll be much, much harder for him to
continue being your host… because I’ll kill him immediately if he is.’
‘Come on, Huck,’ I addressed him mildly; I had no idea where the calm so
atypical for me had come from, ‘go easy on Leonard. This was going to happen sooner
or later anyway.’
‘Yeah, go easy on me!’ Leonard raised his voice in his own defense. I paid no
attention and posed the second one of my many questions:
‘And how exactly did you come to the conclusion about my disease? I mean,
what happened the night of the party anyway? After I passed out?’
Huck hesitated before he opened his mouth, but Leonard was the one to have the
first word. He didn’t know the meaning or purpose of hesitation.
‘You started the whole twitchy-tossy thing once you fell to the floor, we thought
you might be having an epileptic seizure or something,’ he recounted carelessly. ‘But
then again, they normally aren’t accompanied by snarls or whimpers. You clawed in
the air for a while until you managed to destroy one of the curtains, and everybody
sniffed you and withdrew, and that gave us a chance to snatch your shaking body and
leave as soon as we could, and Lady Arabella, the host of the party, told me she never
wanted me to come near her, because she knew enough lunatics already and I was
undoubtedly the most prominent of them all,’ the vampire finished with a jovial shrug.

47
‘Aw well, this means we’ll have to crash most parties we attend from now on. But
what matters is that you’re alive and well, and you look as good as new.’
‘She’s been permanently physically damaged because of you,’ Huckleberry
reminded him grimly. I watched them argue for a little longer just out of curiosity.
‘Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Huck, no wound or scar acquired in this world will ever
show on her in her own… and we don’t mind, do we? Don’t listen to him, Wera, he’s
got issues. You’re beautiful.’
‘I think… I think my neck looks like a toothless vampire tried to drink from me
and tried to help himself get the job done with a set of kid’s scissors,’ I estimated
thoughtfully. ‘It’s kind of fun, actually.’
‘See? Everything is fine, and everything will be!’ Leonard exclaimed, as if
nothing could ever bring him down. ‘Personally, if you ask me, I seriously doubt
you’ll turn into a furry beast tonight and kill us all,’ he nudged me friendlily in the
ribs. ‘It’s really not your style, if you ask me.’
‘Well, even if it does happen, I’ll be peaceful,’ I promised. ‘I’ll curl up and fall
asleep with my snout in my tail without disturbing anyone. I’ve always imagined it
would be very relaxing to be a wolf, actually. Wolves aren’t aggressive creatures, no
matter what some may think. They would only kill for food or self-defense.’
‘That is indeed true, but you are forgetting it isn’t wolves we’re talking about,’
Huckleberry sternly disagreed. ‘In such cases, it is the human side of you given an
animal form that creates the most trouble. Werewolves are most dangerous and
uncontrollable because they’re men – or women – in the shape of wolves, not the other
way around. Your darkest urges and greatest pains will find themselves in a body that
is far less restricted by the laws of nature, and imagine what happens then. Wolves
aren’t violent creatures, you got that right – but people, my dear, are.’
‘And let’s not even talk about women…’ murmured Leonard, and Huck and I
simultaneously accused him of being sexist.
I gave the possibility of my life as I knew it ending a little more thought than it
deserved.
‘Honestly, did you really think you could control a wild occult force within you?
That you know what to expect of yourself in such a situation?’ Huckleberry’s just
wrath was relentless. ‘I’m going to go find some chains, just in case.’
He rushed out of the room, making sure nobody attempted to speak to him, since
he was so enraged. At the door, the vampire turned swiftly, and looked back at me
over his shoulder.
‘Oh, um, in case you’re wondering,’ he said distractedly a moment before
vanishing, ‘whatever happens tonight, the only person I am going to blame for it is
Leonard. Unless of course something good happens,’ Huck added, ‘then, I’ll thank
God.’
Then, in an instant, he was gone.
‘Hey, that’s discrimination!’ Leonard yelled after him, but it was way too late.
‘Oh, forget about him, he was just born sour, I think. Wera… my guest… I am not
going to leave you here in the ubiquitous gloom contemplating over the possible
consequences of tonight. We are going to have another nice day, you and I, even if
Huck won’t join us. Or maybe precisely because he won’t join us. Don’t bother
worrying about this. Let’s have a nice day, shall we?’

48
 ‘But I can’t help worrying about it!’ I protested, as Huck’s words were slowly
reaching my brain and relieving me from the delirium of the morning. ‘What about
Liz? Who is going to protect her if something happens to me when it gets dark… well,
darker?’
Leonard thought about it for a brief moment.
‘You’re right,’ he concluded all of a sudden, as if he had had an incredible
revelation, even though this was the single most obvious conclusion he could come to.
‘Then, we shall go out today. For a walk, what do you say? A nice walk before dark,
so to speak?’
I eyed him suspiciously.
‘You don’t mean that kind of a walk, do you? Like the one you took me on the
second day of my stay?’
Leonard laughed. Whatever the answer was, he would have laughed anyway.
‘No, of course not,’ he assured me earnestly, although I didn’t trust the sincerity
in his eyes one bit. ‘We’ll go out in town to show you around, do some sightseeing,
maybe some shopping, too – I’m convinced you need it… Come on, don’t waste your
time objecting, please. My place is far from the most interesting place you’ll ever see
around here. Come on, Wera,’ he urged, switching his boyish charm on, and I gave in.
‘Don’t disappoint me. I wouldn’t want you to leave with the impression that my world
is a boring place to be in, would I now?’
‘Oh, trust me, Leonard,’ I replied seriously, ‘that is the last thing that I would
ever, ever think of this place.’

***

‘What you are standing in is Claret Square,’ Leonard was explaining to me half
an hour later, when he’d finally been convinced that his hair was impeccable enough
for him to go out. Today, he was in gold-brimmed purple, and his hair was delicately
drawn back into a ponytail (at least I saw it that way) and tied with a small purple
ribbon. He looked as though he had set off to join in on a parade, and next to him I
looked like a beggar. ‘That large building over there – yes, the one with the sculpture
of a head on a stick in the front, that’s the one – that’s the headquarters of the City
Council. I assume you don’t really know which City the Council belongs to, so I’ll tell
you straight away. That’s the south side of Laurington, where I happen to live, and let
me tell you not everyone can afford a place around here… Anyway, the party we went
to was Lady Arabella’s, who practically owns almost all of North Laurington, but
regardless she is no lady, no matter what they call her. Trust me, I know,’ he winked at
me, and for the first time I found it unpleasant. The walk on the other hand, was indeed
very nice. Today, it was much warmer, God knew why, and it almost felt like regular
human autumn. I couldn’t help but smile.
‘Okay, I think I get it… so, how many vampire cities are there?’ I asked, out of
politeness more than curiosity. I’d never liked geography as a discipline.
‘Oh, there are about a hundred that I know of,’ Leonard replied, ‘but you
wouldn’t want me to list them all, I’m sure. Our world is smaller, you see, but it’s still
pretty developed, not that I mean to brag, so I’ll just give you the basics. Our world is
divided into seven main areas: Butchery, Lechery, Agoria, Cleaveland, Scarhaven and

49
Culpa.’ I raised an astonished eyebrow; hell, I might have even raised two. ‘Don’t look
at me like that,’ Leonard pointed an accusative finger at me, ‘I didn’t name them, you
see. They’ve been renamed many times by many city councils. In most cases, I am
afraid we counted largely on irony…’
‘No kidding,’ I muttered. I could sniff vampire irony a mile away. ‘Cleaveland?’
‘Well, yeah, because it ought to suggest they cleave newcomers into bits, you
see. Plus it’s a play on Cleveland, which I am sure you are familiar with in your world.
I dunno… most vampires seem to find it funny anyway.’
‘I’m very sure they do,’ I rolled my eyes towards the sky.
‘Laurington is located in Cleaveland, beaten in the aspect of prestige solely by
Aurius, which holds the largest blood reserve in our world. The neighboring states of
Cleaveland are Butchery and Lechery, who are always at war. Most werewolves
around here have migrated from Butchery, and yet the majority of them have decided
to stay there. Few want anything to do with the royal elite in either Aurius or
Laurington. Werewolves are most useful for their strength rather than anything else –
no offense – and Butchery is a good place for them, since the locals have a great
interest in warfare. Now, if you want to be somewhere relatively peaceful, that is
Agoria, but you can barely find folks there that are under seven hundred, and they are
a bit of a bore… very conservative, you see. Me, I like Laurington best, because it is a
dynamic accumulation of youth, culture, the high society, and yet the royals wouldn’t
step here and involve me in all kinds of serious conspiracies…’
I had mentally skipped the information he was flooding me with until then, but
now I began to display a fraction of genuine interest.
‘What conspiracies?’ I asked. ‘Do you mean those are the big-shot vampires, the
ones that pretty much decide the fate of your, well, country, or whatever it is, and the
ones that always try to come up with a plan to rule the human world and what not?’
‘That’s the ones, exactly,’ my vampire companion responded with a flattering
nod. ‘The entire royal clan is located there, always trying to do something that will
destroy whatever dimensional and social balance we’ve managed to obtain throughout
the centuries. Personally, I think they’re stupid. You know that until about ten years
ago I tried very hard to get into their circle, and I can’t tell you about a royal figure
that I haven’t drank from, double-crossed or slept with just to get a bit of useless
power. But they make things very complicated; they require too many lives sacrificed
in the name of their pointless causes and quests for omnipotence and domination. As
far as I know, we are currently under the rule of Lady Salacia – not a lady at all, once
again – and she’s very interested in snatching the title “queen”, but you see, vamps
these days, they don’t want to have a king or a queen, because… well, I am very sure
you know why,’ he added with a small ambiguous smile. I nodded.
‘Yes, I remember,’ I returned the same smile back to him. ‘It was a great fiasco,
as far as I remember you telling me.’
‘Indeed it was. So, I’m through with this, admiring the architecture and night life
of Laurington, and spending the last days of my youth without anybody giving a damn
whether I am here or not. I no longer look for publicity.’
‘Well, your life is very interesting, Leonard, there’s no doubt, but how about
telling me something about this town that I might need to know in the future?’

50
 ‘Ah yes. This is Crosshatch Street. You should remember this, because it leads to
Cinder Street, just across which I happen to live. Now, from Crosshatch Street, you
can get straight to the best shopping street in town, Massacre Lane…’
‘Wait a minute,’ I interrupted, ‘Cinder Street?’ More eyebrow wriggling
followed.
‘They used to execute vampires on it back in the days, that’s why it used to be
called Ash Road, but the locals found it a little too disturbing, so they renamed it to
Cinder Street, because it sounds a little cuter.’
I reflected on the subject for a while. Vampires who didn’t mind walking streets
called “Massacre Lane” or giving their states names such as “Butchery” had actually
turned out sensitive enough to complain of the disturbing sound of “Ash Road”. I
could never quite figure them out.
Still, the piece of information Leonard had just given me intrigued me beyond
limits.
‘Hey, I thought you had no police, no court, no law whatsoever here!’ I
exclaimed in amazement. I could potentially think well of that type of civilization…
one day.
‘We don’t,’ Leonard shrugged. ‘It just wouldn’t work out seeing it as everyone is
a criminal. ‘But there is one prison, specialized for those who performed acts truly
deserving punishment, and before it was built, those twisted individuals were burnt in
public… but then we decided it simply wasn’t enough for them, and the younger
citizen were getting too stressed out about it, so…’
‘But what kind of crimes could those vampires have committed if here rape and
murder aren’t considered anything out of the ordinary?’
Leonard trembled at the question I’d directed towards him. I’d never seen
Leonard tremble at a question before.
‘Is it, like, attempting genocide of your own kind, or something?’ I suggested
hesitantly when he didn’t reply right away.
‘Well, let me put it that way,’ the vampire tried to hint at the answer instead of
spitting it right out. ‘To be this serious it has to be a religious or spiritual matter. Think
about this: what do we vampires believe in?’
I shrugged impassively.
‘I don’t know,’ I confessed with infuriating sincerity. ‘Nothing? Themselves?
Blood? I can’t really be sure.’
‘No, no. Think harder. What’s the one thing they wouldn’t have anyone spit on?
Their most valuable possession?’
‘Their ego? Their pride? Their ancestry?’ I was hopeless.
‘Freedom.’ The answer took me entirely by surprise and my feet forced my body
to a halt in the middle of the street.’
‘What?’ I uttered. It just seemed impossible to me that creatures as innately
impure as vampires could hold something like freedom so dear, as freedom was
something holy, something sacred, indeed, something to die for even if you had an
eternity to give up. ‘Are you serious?’
‘Completely. Look, Wera, we may be anything, but we know what’s important,
even to delinquents like us. We have served many rulers, and we have done the
bidding of many tyrants in our history, but we have never actually been tyrannized.

51
We would never allow such a thing to happen. We’ve always let someone be on top in
the hierarchy of our world, because this is how things ought to be, but only because we
found the chosen ones to be fitting, or saw some profit for us in their reign, or we felt
like being noble enough to stand them for a year or two before we ate them. But never
have we let anyone, anyone at all, force their desires upon us against our will, turn us
into pets, or slaves, or puppets. We’ve always been free people, and we have always
chosen the life we led for ourselves, be it miserable and perverse or not. We’ve always
done what we wanted, and we always will. And despite the way we treat each other,
kill each other and betray each other, you’d be surprised if you saw how united we
could be at a time of crisis… which, thank goodness, you will not get to see while you
are here. We haven’t been at war with any race for centuries now. We’re free
creatures, we make our own destiny, and we are to this day, believe it or not, possibly
the most democratic society the universe has ever seen…’ He didn’t say this without
pride. I had no idea he had such a size to him. I watched Leonard with my jaw dropped
in pure fascination.
He smiled gently at me.
‘What?’ he asked innocently. ‘Didn’t expect that? Oh, don’t worry, Wera, dear,
you’ll find we are not so bad, once you get to know us… or to be us…’ Another
devilish wink. ‘But enough with the history lesson for today. I promised you shopping
as well as sight-seeing. Come on, I’ll take you to the best clothing store in town, and
then how about we give that head on a stick a closer look? No? Okay, okay… on we
go then, with the shopping!’

***

I had always hated shopping, ever since I’d been a little girl. I only had to walk in
and out of three different stores subsequently to get a headache. Still, Leonard’s
manners and restless flattery made shopping a little less painful to me, and I couldn’t
deny that I fancied the clothing sold in the stores here way better than the tasteless
products of fashion disasters my world usually had to offer. It was true that the
designers didn’t use that much of their imagination when it came to colors. Black and
red never got old, as the motto of every vampire fashion line probably went. On the
other hand, whoever the designers were, they truly knew how to make a piece of
clothing look… attractive.
Actually, that was probably the understatement of the century.
Judging by their look, the clothes were probably imported from the state of
Lechery. Left on the racks, they posed no threat to the mediocre person, but worn on
someone’s body – if they could fit it – they were capable of inspiring even the most
pious of priests to steer from the righteous path and be led into temptation. They
weren’t made by the Devil, but he would most certainly envy their maker. A lot of
fabric was used in the making of these clothes, and yet they somehow managed to
display the most delicately suggestive parts of a woman’s body in a way that wouldn’t
allow you to look at anything else. The store specialized mostly in selling evening
gowns, formal dresses and underwear, but the men’s department of the store didn’t
disappoint the ladies either, if they had a thing for the elegant type and didn’t mind
seeing their loved ones in black lace shirts every now and then. Besides, there were

52
clothes there from every epoch in history since the Dark Ages. I stared in amazement
and disapproval at pretty much everything, then, under Leonard’s poisonous influence,
I consented to picking something modest and trying it on. Luckily, there was no mirror
in the dressing room (why would vampires need one anyway?), and it was a good
thing that there wasn’t, for it would probably blush at the sight of me in that thing that
I was wearing.
‘We’re buying it,’ Leonard announced as soon as he saw me walking out
clumsily out of the dressing room, struggling with the curtain. ‘I’ll compliment you on
the way back. Words won’t do just now. You need to see yourself first. This is you,
and I’ll take no objections.’
‘B-but… but… okay, sure, but… What? Are you kidding me? We’re buying
that? What for? What with? Who for?’
‘Well, since you seem to be so terribly uninterested in it, I was thinking I’d get it
for myself, but if it doesn’t fit me, I might let your wear it on weekends,’ the vampire
winked at me again, successfully embarrassing me even further. ‘The dress is
gorgeous, wolf girl, and it fits you like a glove. Be reasonable, please.’
I was blushing and sweating with humiliation, panic and fury in the gorgeous
dress.
‘It only fits me like a glove because it would fit a five-year-old, too!’ I squealed
in desperation. There was no way out, and probably no way out of the dress either,
judging by its tightness. ‘I mean… it’s perverse! And horribly, horribly wrong! And I
can’t breathe in it!’ I complained, hoping that would make Leonard change his mind.
But he was merely shaking his head implacably, an incarnation of evil all the way
through. If Satan was good at corrupting people, Leonard was better.
‘You’ll have the opportunity to breathe as much as you like once someone has
taken that terrible dress off.’ His comment destroyed me. ‘Oh, please. I’m your host,
so you will abide by my rules. Don’t you dare think we’ll be staying in tonight, either.
I’ll get Huck to come along, too, if you feel you need someone besides you to scowl at
the dress. It’s the vampire world, woman, face it – you won’t find innocent dress codes
or forms of entertainment here. Not unless it is Halloween, and we still have some
time until then, don’t we?’
He commanded me out of the dress, which I handed to the shop owner, who
handed it obediently to Leonard in exchange for a few furtive words and a certain
amount of a strange currency. As we were walking out of the store, I tried the
imploring innocent look technique on Leonard, as a last resort:
‘Can’t we just go hunting instead?’ I pleaded. ‘This high society stuff, it’s just
not for me…’
‘Oh, but we are going hunting, sweetie,’ the vampire beamed guiltlessly at me,
and I recognized a debauched fiery glint in his otherwise clear eyes. ‘It’s just a
different kind of hunting.’

***

‘I can’t believe we’re doing this,’ I muttered on the way through a gate with a
complicated pattern, and a dozen badly tended rose bushes which we squeezed through
prior to that. ‘Whose party is it this time?’

53
 ‘Lady Victoria,’ Huckleberry said in a displeased voice. ‘One of the many. There
are thousands of Lady Victorias in this world.’
‘Don’t you ever get tired of partying?’ I moaned wearily. ‘I still have this habit,
you know, it’s called sleeping… Gosh, I feel like I’m back in the ninth grade with my
friends…’
‘I’m not that fond of them either,’ Huck agreed as grumpily as ever. ‘Parties, I
mean, not your friends in the ninth grade…’
‘Oh, right, but you’re still wearing your best suit, right?’ Leonard remarked as
we walked into a cold, smoky hallway. ‘By the way, don’t you think Wera looks
ravishing tonight?’ he mentioned seemingly accidentally, just to see the other
vampire’s nervous reaction.
‘Undoubtedly your doing, I believe,’ Huckleberry retorted, unimpressed.
‘Tonight you are particularly evil, Leonard.’
‘Why of course I am. I must take care of my reputation, I keep telling you.’
I was lucky not to pass out on my way in. The dress was so tight and suggestive I
could barely take a breath without looking as though I was flaunting endowments I
didn’t possess. It was a simple knee-long black dress with some precious or semi-
precious stone near the collar. Moonstone, I figured out later on. Oh, the irony.
Leonard loved watching me squirm in this dress that I neither deserved nor could
handle. Huck was casting compassionate glances at me more rarely than usual, and
then he’d look away all too quickly. I felt abandoned and unsafe. A hiss in the vicinity
of my ear made me jump, startled.
‘Just wear it like you’re worth more than it, darling,’ Leonard advised me gently
while we were making our way through the mob that pushed to advance further along
the hallway as if they were queuing for heaven. ‘Look at this horrible dress, designed
for cheap women. Wear it like you are not a cheap woman. Wear it like you are not for
sale at all. Those are the kind of things people desire to obtain the most.’
‘In your world, maybe,’ I whimpered helplessly, trying not to trip. ‘Anyway, I
don’t care. I should go back, I can’t do this. I’m sorry if the remains of my decency
and innocence are stopping me from acting natural in this goddamned piece of fabric.’
‘Oh, I am sorry, I forgot to tell you something before we came here,’ Leonard
sighed bitterly, and acquired an expression fit for a self-loathing martyr. ‘You brought
something along that’s not allowed in here, dear.’
‘What? Are they going to frisk us now?’
‘No, wolf girl, but it shows.’
‘What is it?’
‘There are several names for it. Innocence, virtue, morality, prejudice, principles,
shyness, social insecurity… pick whichever one you want. What I meant to apologize
for is that I should have told you to just leave it at home.’
‘What?’ I barely managed to stifle a shriek. ‘Leave my innocence at home?’
‘It’s as simple as that.’
‘Are you insane?’
Huck groaned audibly.
‘Are you trying to make this wonderful girl a copy of yourself? I won’t let you!’
‘Now, now, Huck, I’m not drunk enough to start another fight with you. And yes,
Wera, I believe I am a little crazy, for my own good.’

54
 ‘It was a rhetorical question.’
‘You can’t just tell her to abandon her virtue and dignity! You can’t do this to the
few people that aren’t completely corrupted!’
Leonard seemed to solve all disagreements with charismatic grins.
‘No. No. Not her dignity, Huck. What kind of a monster do you think I am?
Never her dignity. But, her innocence… that is simply not required here.’
‘She can’t just give it up whenever she wishes to and then put it back on again!’
‘Wera,’ Leonard turned to me with a dead serious expression, ‘can I have a word
with you in private?’
I had no choice. We stepped away from Huck, who’d have waited sulking in a
corner, if queues had corners.
‘I’m not asking you to be something you’re not,’ the vampire whispered to me
softly, and his eyes were filled with tense, imploring honesty when he said that. ‘I’m
not asking you to be cheap. Didn’t I just ask the exact opposite of you? Think about it,
wolf girl: you’ve always – always – done the right thing in your life. And tell me – did
it, in the end, lead you to something pure, something beautiful, something innocent?
What good were all your self-restrictions and self-sacrifices when they went away in
vain for people who couldn’t appreciate the delicate white flower that is called
innocence, which you humbly put in their vases? Did it grow and bloom there, or did it
wither, for there was no one to care for it?’ When he saw the tears advancing to my
eyes, he quickly switched to a different tone, and I was grateful, for I had promised
myself not to cry again until the end of this holiday. He approached me and held my
chin up until our eyes were on the very same level and only inches away. ‘Now listen
to me carefully, Wera: there is not a single person where we are about to go that is
worthy of this flower you’ve got – and I know you’ve still got it. Not a single petal,
even. There is no need to waste it on sinners when it wasn’t even worth it wasting it on
saints. You are free – no, you are obliged to be cruel to these people because they’ve
been waiting for someone to teach them a lesson for ages, and their hearts are so dried
out they will not shudder, let alone break if you play with them. This is called justice.
And, you might just have a good time in addition – who knows? So, I am telling you:
try it just this once. When we walk through that door over there, please don’t bring
your innocence along. Someone just might steal it. Besides, a shy lady in a beautiful
dress is much more of a threat than a confident, heartless woman in a beautiful dress.
Leave your innocence at home, Wera. Leave it at home. And I guarantee you: nothing
will ever be the same again.’
His speech frightened and thrilled me. I realized Leonard could mould me into
whatever he wanted to. But, on the other hand, he was right – my innocence wasn’t
worth any of the clients of the dimly lit cafeteria we entered, and nor did it seem to be
able to be of any use to these guys. There was a lot of smoking, drinking, card-playing
and cursing going on. It turned out that this was a tea party, and I was shocked to find
out that this was the most outrageous party I’d ever attended.
‘You’re lucky he didn’t take us to one of the razorblade clubs,’ Huckleberry told
me later in the evening, when we were already relaxing at a narrow round table,
swallowing our doubts and grudges and dissolving them into several glasses of beer,
and I was slowly forgetting the need to breathe. ‘They provide customers with the kind
of entertainment you’d never enjoy.’

55
 ‘I believe someone owes me an apology,’ Leonard’s voice came from the other
end of the small table. ‘You’re both having a good time, aren’t you?’
‘I’m sorry,’ promptly responded Huckleberry with a cruel grin, ‘that I have
continuous doubts, after all these years throughout which I’ve known you, that you
have any good left in you whatsoever. I hereby state that these are nothing but fowl
insinuations. You’re rotten to the core, my friend.’
Leonard purposefully spilled his beer over Huck’s pristine suit.
‘And you’re soaked with beer to the bone, my fellow in pointless wandering
around bars,’ he retorted remorselessly. ‘I may be wicked, but you needn’t worry, I
promise everyone this night will not end in tears. Someone might even get lucky. And
looky here,’ he added with indecent excitement in his tone, ‘it seems that someone
would be the astonishingly attractive heartless lady whose presence we have the honor
of enjoying… Check this out, Wera, that strapping gentleman two tables away hasn’t
taken his eyes off you ever since we got here.’
I blushed, because things like that never happened to me and I was never
prepared for them, but then recomposed myself and went straight on to denial, which
always saved me in uncomfortable situations.
‘Oh, really?’ I mumbled. ‘I thought this went for the whole room, they must have
assumed they’re getting free strippers here now.’
‘No,’ Leonard shook his head with certainty. ‘that particular one is very
persistent in examining you. He looks quite young, too. I mean, they all do, but this
one seems inexperienced. Maybe it’s something to start a conversation about?’
Huckleberry looked uneasy. I turned around carefully to see if it was all just
another trick. Still, there was indeed a person – a vampire, judging by his complexion
– who was staring intently at me, in a threateningly stalking way rather than anything
else, and he didn’t lower his stare when my eyes accidentally met his. When I saw he
wasn’t ashamed or disturbed in any way, I examined him as well. He had shoulder-
long black hair, he was dressed (of course!) in black silk, and he seemed to be,
visually, at least, no more than my age. He looked peaked and hungry. That made him
dangerous in my eyes, and I lost interest.
‘Thanks, guys, but I am fine where I am.’ Now, however, the piercing stare of the
stranger scratched at the back of my neck and annoyed me, and I wondered how much
trouble I’d get in if I asked him to stop. My companions quickly noticed the change in
my mood.
‘What’s the matter?’ Leonard asked. ‘Don’t you like the guy?’
‘He creeps me out… I know that wouldn’t stop me in the real world, but he is
really creepy... I want nothing to do with him, I’d just like to get out of here, or things
might go wrong.’
Huck seemed to agree with me completely, but Leonard made the effort to object
once more.
‘What is it about him that creeps you out? He seems pretty decent to me.’
‘Well, just look at him… he looks like…’
‘Like what?’
‘Well, like… I dunno, like a serial killer, I guess.’
‘Honey, I hate to disappoint you, but everyone you see in here is a serial killer.
I’m a serial killer, Huck is a serial killer, and trust me, that poor boy over that couldn’t

56
possibly be more of a serial killer than either of us two. The way I see it, he seems to
be pulling this look out just to appear hardcore. He’s been a vampire for two weeks. I
wouldn’t give him a day over that.’
‘I wouldn’t know about that,’ Huckleberry expressed his doubts. ‘Look at the
pendant he is wearing on his neck. He might be a tool of some secret order dealing
with some really dark stuff…’
Had Huck not said these words, my whole holiday could have developed in an
entirely different direction. But I had to look twice, and to my horror and joy rather
than surprise I noticed that that sulky vampire was wearing the very same gold
necklace I had seen on the peculiar dark silhouette from the disturbing dream I’d had
when I was still burning with fever. I could never forget it, it had started a fire in my
subconscience, and now that I was on the trail that could lead to its meaning, I was not
going to let it go for anything.
Leonard had noticed my sudden interest, even if he had misinterpreted it.
‘See,’ he whispered dirtily, ‘he ain’t so bad, is he? He looks a little gloomy and
lost, too. Why don’t you walk that handsome boy home, how about that? Your
innocence will be safe back at my place when you come back, I guarantee you. After
all, how far can you get?’
I didn’t quite receive what he was trying to say to me, because all I could think
about is the necklace on the stranger’s neck; the stranger alone didn’t matter. A part of
me that was a newborn hunter awoke and sniffed the air cautiously.
‘You know,’ I replied slowly, ‘I believe that is exactly what I am going to do.’
Huckleberry waved an angry index in Leonard’s face.
‘I am going to have a long and painful talk with you when we get home, Mister
Baker,’ he warned. Leonard sent me off with an intrigued spark in his eyes as he
watched me leave the table and head towards the serial killer in the dark. Anyway,
what difference did it make when they all were bad, more or less?
I was a little stunned to notice that halfway to the table the stranger stood up and
strode aggressively over to me. On the other hand, it could have been a good thing as
well – I had no idea how to begin the conversation.
The unknown vampire marched to a halt before me and sank his hungry blue
stare into my neck.
‘Where did you get that?’ he growled.
Not the best pick-up line, I thought, but it was monsters I had to work with, after
all.
‘I cut myself on a wine glass while I was at a party.’
‘Do you go to many parties around here?’
‘Um, no, not really. The fewer people I am with, the more comfortable I feel,
actually,’ I decided to be honest. I wouldn’t die of rejection, in any case, but I was
determined to reveal his secret.
‘Why is that?’ the frightening stranger inquired.
‘Well, it’s really only when you are alone with someone, face to face, that you
can truly get to know them. You can’t do that at parties, I mean.’
‘I couldn’t agree more. In this case, would you like to go somewhere, like maybe
for a walk outside, just the two of us, and talk face to face? I can’t stand the smoke
here.’

57
 ‘Sure, why not,’ I shrugged innocently. ‘I’m not a smoker either. I find it
pointless.’
Lenard was observing the happening intently from our table.
‘That’s my girl,’ he nodded to himself, thoroughly satisfied.
‘What are you talking about? She’s going to get into so much trouble!’ I could
hear Huck protesting in a half-hiss that was much too infuriated to be quiet.
‘No, Huck, my friend; he will.’
‘Look at him! Are you kidding? He might be young, but he is still dangerous, and
a murderer! Imagine what he could do to her!’
Leonard took no notice of his panic.
‘That’s my girl,’ he repeated gladly under his breath. ‘That’s right. Hunt him
down. You’re already getting a grasp of the best way to do it. Making him believe you
are the prey…’

***

We walked out into the moist evening, me and Aelius – that’s what he said his
name was – and had a casual chat about life, the world, people, vampires, and pretty
much everything else. I could not explain why I didn’t feel nervous at all, but it was
most likely because, under closer examination, he turned out to be a rather pleasant
guy to talk to. He confessed to me that he’d become a vampire because he couldn’t
stand the loneliness the human world inflicted on him day after day, and I thought that
it was sweet, making the effort to come up with a lie like this just to impress me. I
knew it wasn’t true, of course, since handsome, well-built guys like him never suffered
from loneliness in the human world, but I let him say what he liked. Finally, we
reached a small shed in a narrow but tidy alley which he led me into gallantly, and
invited me into a bedroom of his own. It was awful compared to the trashiest of
Leonard’s bedrooms, but I wasn’t very enthusiastic about luxury. Aelius and I
exchanged several brief glances and watched the dark blue starry sky together for a
minute or two, standing close to each other by his window. I wondered how to
maneuver to the question about his necklace for about a minute or two. He didn’t say
anything as they passed. It was starting to rain lightly. I sighed in a moment of peace,
turned my back against him and gazed at the stars pinned on the magical sky. My soul
melted in ecstasy as silence took over.
And just when I was beginning to think that Aelius was a nice guy – boring, but
nice, – he had to lean over me and plant a violent kiss on my wounded neck.
It hurt, but I yielded, and said nothing. He was handsome, and passionate, and
thoroughly disgusting. It was the way in which he kissed, the way in which he touched
me, the way in which he snarled sweet gothic nothings into my ear that was revolting
on a scale beyond description to me. It wasn’t that he advanced upon me as if he was
trying to attack me; it was the self-centered confidence of ownership which radiated
from his every arrogant movement. It felt as though he thought I already belonged to
him, as if he believed he was irresistible simply because he was a handsome vampire,
and as if he expected me to shiver with passion and vulnerability at the touch of his
lips, which was rude and lazy, and was supposed to pass for alluring. He spoke to me
of immortality without being able to grasp the concept of death; he spoke to me of

58
sorrow and torment knowing nothing of either. I felt nauseated and annoyed to have
thought that someone this shallow and pathetic was wearing an item from a dream that
had made my heart stir…
I was beginning to see red once more… Well, maybe not red, but slightly
pinkish. And I wasn’t sure how long I’d be able to stand his rude, effortless kisses
before I vomited.
‘You taste like roses in the rain,’ Aelius whispered greasily in my ear. And that
tipped the scales in favor of blind rage.
Before I could analyze why, I had turned against him, grabbed his throat, and
now I was squeezing it with all my strength, or maybe a little more than that. I would
have been shocked to see the horror in his eyes if I weren’t so furious I could probably
kill him.
‘What do you know about roses?’ I yelled in his face in all my fury, and all of a
sudden what I was seeing before me was not Aelius the womanizer, but just a
frightened, whimpering young man who didn’t know what to do with his life, and was
not probably deeply regretting becoming a vampire out of boredom. ‘What do you
know about rain? How dare you talk to me about suffering, you, whose thick little
brain will know the suffering I’ve known in fifty years’ time! But I don’t know if I can
wait that long, you know?’
The shadows by the bed were growing thicker and thicker, and they seemed to all
be looming over Aelius, with his stupid poser nickname and his stupid black silk
shirt…
‘What’s your name?’ I shrieked madly above him, tightening my grasp, which
the horrified vampire had not even remembered to resist. Otherwise, he could have
finished me off in the blink of an eye. ‘You real name, you clown!’
‘Th-thomas,’ the young man sobbed, twisting and turning, trying to pretend this
wasn’t happening to him. ‘Th-that’s my real –’
‘Thomas WHO?’
‘Downey! Thomas Downey!’ he screamed helplessly. ‘Please let me go!’
‘And who gave you this lovely pendant, Thomas Downey? Answer me! Now!’
‘A-a man… a vampire… I don’t really know him… He paid me to keep it for
him, he… he said he’d-he’d come to g-get it back…’
‘You know what I am, don’t you, Downey?’ I growled icily at him, and it wasn’t
a metaphorical growl, not at all. ‘Or are you too thick to even realize that? Don’t you
know that your kind and mine don’t mix? Don’t you know what would happen to you
if I kissed you? You wanted me to kiss you before, do you still want it? Can you see
the full moon rising, Downey?!’
The vampire was already choking on his own tears and terror. Now he ought to
talk to me about rain and roses, I thought briefly, before my thoughts became a tangled
scarlet blur.
Thomas started crying. I couldn’t bring myself to kiss him, and for a second, just
for a second, I loosened my grip on his throat. Then, he jumped through the window
and ran.
From then on, the night became truly amusing. I was no longer thinking, fearing,
doubting. All I could taste was the bitter scent of that gold necklace that was going to
be the answer to all of my questions, and the repugnant stench of the unfortunate

59
vampire Thomas Downey. I sprinted after the bright blue trail of his smell, through
streets, squares and gardens. The moon was full and magnetic and scarlet, the air was
fresh and moist and ringing, the night was more beautiful than ever, and Downey’s
smell was the only thing that ruined the lovely scent of rain and roses in the air…

60
 Chapter Six
Carpe Noctem

The situation was tragic.

It undoubtedly was. I knew very few people – and less than two of them were
mortal – who wouldn’t think the same if they woke up in a cute, tidy, fragrant garden,
roses on the left of them, daisies on the right, and a mangled body just beside their
head. That was indisputably tragic.
The disfigured body covered in blood, mud, grass, scratches, wounds and
bruises, was that of Thomas Downey, a man recently gone vampire. I felt sorry for
him, but the disgust from the previous night still lingered on. I sincerely hoped he’d
come round. I explored the contents of my mouth with my tongue. Thankfully, I
hadn’t bitten him; or at least so it seemed. I had obviously toyed with him quite a bit
until he’d passed out, possibly out of fear. His wounds would heal if he was still alive,
but he was in a state too terrifying for me to check. I couldn’t look at his face; it was
anything but handsome now. Poor Thomas probably didn’t deserve this; his only sin
known to me was stupidity.
And yet I had completely lost it the previous night, for little or no reason. I had
sincerely not intended to harm him in any way when the whole thing had begun. All
I’d wanted was to talk to him so that I could find out more about the necklace. He still
had it around his torn up neck. Wounds carved by claws as big as my fingers gaped
and gushed various liquids all over his still young body.
I stared hypnotized at my latest morbid canvas, the distasteful, horrific painting
that was really just a portrait of my own madness. Was this really me, I thought, more
in wonder rather than in paralyzing horror, which I knew I ought to be feeling. Was
Leonard right about me, that I was nothing but a beast? Why was it that all I’d ever
been so far was a nice, kind, compassionate girl who just had the habit of crying once
too often… and since that girl had grown tired of crying and decided to cut down on it,
I’d discovered a creature that lived in me, a creature that had waited for twenty-one
years for its moment to finally come. And why did I feel more alive than ever, despite
my firm morals, despite my sensitive heart, despite everything that I’d believed I was
for so many years?
I had to go to Leonard. He had all the answers. Huck was angry with him, but it
was simply because he couldn’t see the plan behind what he was doing… Leonard had
taken us out to a midnight tea party and urged me to follow a stranger into the night so
that he could keep Liz and Huck safe. Would I have attacked them too, if they’d
happened to stand in my way the moment the red moon came swinging towards me
and the red curtain covered my eyes? Was I even able to tell between good and bad
people in these states of mind? So much for the myths that the no-turner could never
quite be a werewolf, and the werewolf was not quite a monster, but, at least to an
extent, a creature that could be influenced or reasoned with… and so much for the
myth that monsters were not quite evil. Leonard was not evil for letting this happen –
he had saved at least three lives that night at the price of risking only one – but I was.
There was no doubt about that. Dimly, I remembered it all; and it no longer felt like

61
someone else’s doing. I didn’t know for sure what I looked like then, or what I could
do, but I knew with terminal certainty that when those moments came and something
pissed me off, I was being taken over by all of my unpleasant memories, fears,
sorrows, regrets, heartaches and heartbreaks and emotional scabs, and all of them
flowed back into my tired heart in a crimson river of rage and hatred, which made me
crave wreaking a horrid vengeance upon the whole world…
And the worst thing about it was – I remembered the burning sensation in my
brain so clearly – that then, and now, I truly, deeply felt that the world deserved it…
Long ago it had started doing damage to a girl who hadn’t done anything wrong.
I remembered this girl so clearly, even though I was incapable of giving too much of a
damn about her right now. An offense here, a mock there, a punch, slap or kick every
now and then, a heartbreak or two for a change, a little bit of abuse, some lies, a few
hundred forced kisses, a couple of thousand wasted tears, a death threat here, a dirty
insult there, theft of innocent to wrap it up with, the breaking of a vulnerable soul in
the end, celebrated and drowned in alcohol and sperm… Those were just a few of the
sins of the world. And that girl would never, ever defend herself. She simply couldn’t.
And although I was no longer going to let her reign over me, although I was never
going to hand over the throne to her, she still had a small place reserved for her in my
recently recovered heart. And I felt the need to avenge her in this world that wasn’t
mine, the world that I could avenge her in, because Thomas Downey was just like my
world’s other common criminals and he was a man who would have abused the
innocence and virtue of that girl as well as any other. Perhaps that was why he’d
disgusted me so much with his kisses; they had reminded me of someone else… Good
thing I’d followed Leonard’s advice and left my innocence at home. It probably wasn’t
there anymore, after what I’d done. But at least it hadn’t been given away to someone
who didn’t know what to do with it.
If I were to redeem myself, I thought grimly, I needed to rediscover it: that very
same innocence, that white flower Leonard had been talking about – and I had to give
it to somebody who could make something beautiful sprout out of it before it had
wilted and rotten irreversibly.
I also had to stop wasting time thinking about things I couldn’t change at this
point and stop ruining someone’s carefully arranged garden with bodies of dying
vampires. At least, it wouldn’t be any good if the owner of the garden became aware
that I was responsible for the dying vampire’s presence there. I coldly decided to leave
Downey there: who knew what mood he’d be in when he woke up? Vampires were not
that easy to kill. My heart did not skip a beat at the thought of the vampire world
losing Thomas Downey. It apparently proved I’d find no innocence of mine back
home, or at Leonard’s. I sighed, collected the pathetic remains of my dress from the
ground, covered myself up with them as much as I could, and hesitated for a moment
before taking the necklace off the vampire’s mutilated neck. At the end, I took it. I felt
it would help me find what I’d come to look for here. I made no mental attempt to
excuse myself before my conscience. Yes, I was definitely evil. After all these years of
trying to be good, something in me had finally cracked. Now, there was no turning
back. Now, it was eat or be eaten.

62
 I stood up, clutching the necklace in hand, hungrily breathed in the scent of rain
and roses still hanging thickly in the morning air, and dragged my muddy, bloody, evil
self on the way to Leonard’s mansion.

***

‘That’s right, Elizabeth, you’re doing great, honey,’ Leonard was sitting in a
chair and praising his daughter who was rocking back and forth on his knees and was
trying to learn to play the violin, whether she realized it at this age or not. ‘Only the
bow goes here, to the wooden thing with the strings and… no, you’re not supposed to
chew it… Ah!’ he paused abruptly and beamed as he saw me squeeze in through the
crack of the hallway door. ‘Wera! How did your walk go?’
‘It went fairly alright, thank you,’ I replied politely. I was beginning to feel
human and cold again and was shaking. ‘What did you do?’
‘Oh, we had a wonderful time! We sang songs together with Liz, and then Uncle
Huckleberry read her a fairytale, and we all had cake,’ Leonard announced happily.
‘And he is no longer sad, because he knows everything is okay, and we all had a good
time, right, Liz?’ He kissed her on her soft cheek, then stood up, lowered her gently
down to the floor, and said to me: ‘We’d better get you something warm to wear.
Follow me, please. I’ll be right back, honey!’
I walked obediently after Leonard through familiar corridors; I didn’t feel I
deserved to speak out. He, on the other hand, seemed extraordinarily cheerful, even
more than usual, and led me into a small dressing room where my old jeans, T-shirt
and blue cotton shirt were waiting faithfully for me, folded on a chair. I put them on
with relief while Leonard wasn’t looking. In them, I felt a little less wicked. Then, the
vampire turned to me with a gleam of pride in his eyes, sat on the vacant chair, crossed
his legs royally, and wasted not a second longer:
‘Okay, spill it. Tell me everything. I don’t want to miss a single detail.’
I smiled briefly and blinked. Then, I sank to my knees.
‘I wish I was as good as you,’ I let out a hollow whisper and damned my eyes for
being so dry while my heart was tearing itself to pieces.
Leonard sprang up to his feet again.
‘Why would you say this, child? I hope you’ll never be as good as me, for then
you’d be a truly terrible person!’
‘I did something terrible already… I attacked a vampire who hadn’t done me any
wrong… You should have seen him… no, you shouldn’t have… he might be dead…’
‘He’s not,’ Leonard tried to soothe me. ‘I can recognize a number of smells,
among which that of a dead vampire, and you don’t have that on you. Your conscience
should be clear, wolf girl. This is something you can’t help doing…’
‘No!’ I yelled desperately in the vampire’s face, practically begging for the tears
to start dripping, but they wouldn’t come near my eyes anymore, no matter what. ‘I
lured him, I tricked him! And then I got so furious at him for what he would have done
to me if I had not been… a monster… It drove me crazy, you’ve no idea – or maybe
you do… I did it, though, it was all my fault! I hunted him down, Leslie!’ I waved my
hands and shouted imploringly, trying to convince him to damn me, to tell me I had
committed an unforgivable sin.

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 Leonard sighed and knelt beside me.
‘I’m really evil, I know it now,’ I continued, completely resigned before the
realization of my nature. ‘See? The tears, the guilt, everything that should follow that
monstrous deed, they just ain’t coming… That proves everything… And the worst
thing about it is that I’ve never... I’ve never felt like this… so free… and I am so afraid
of going back…’
All of this was said in a completely hollow voice. I had hoped to hear a note, a
shade of remorse, sadness, weakness, or even self-pity in its echo ringing in my ears.
Alas, I’d hoped in vain.
‘I know what you mean,’ Leonard said to me soothingly. ‘It can get really scary
out there in these days… especially when the darkest of our times have been into the
light… But you will return to it, dear, I assure you. You just need a break from this
perpetual struggle for moral flawlessness of yours, that’s all. We’ve all been there. It’s
good for you.’
‘But… but didn’t you just hear what I said?’ I was stunned and horrified by
Leonard’s indifference to the nearly tragic fate of an unknown vampire. I had
completely forgotten that he only cared for specific individuals, but had often been
prepared to send his entire race to hell without a blink of remorse. ‘I nearly killed a
man! This isn’t something that’s good for his health!’
‘Well, I’d rather say it wasn’t good for his health that you left him alive,’ the
vampire responded thoughtfully. ‘Judging by that pretty little accessory you’re
carrying, he was a carrier of something more valuable than himself, and when his
superiors find him without the precious object, they’ll do unimaginably gruesome
things to him that they would have probably done anyway, just for the fun of it. He
would have died a merciful death if you hadn’t been merciful towards him.’ He shook
his head, and then became perfectly carefree again. ‘Listen, Wera, this is a predator’s
world. You can’t waste time worrying about the life of a vampire like you’d worry
about the life of a human being. Okay?’
‘Yes, but not all vampires necessarily deserve to die…’ I mumbled rather
pathetically.
‘They do. Trust me, they do. Just for the record,’ he explained patiently to me, as
if I was his daughter’s age, ‘I would like to state in defense of all vampires out there
that they are, in a word, beasts. They’re wicked, remorseless creatures foreign to no sin
or atrocity. Vampires most definitely aren’t, as most people believe these days, gentle,
romantic, sentimental fools who write love poetry, dress in lace clothing, marvel at
works of art and weep to readings of Shakespeare’s sonnets. The fact that I am a
vampire myself and I coincidentally happen to do all the things listed above is
completely irrelevant and proves nothing whatsoever.’
‘That was probably your first good vampire joke,’ I granted him with a feeble.
He saw me cheering up a bit, and was determined to finish the job he’d started.
‘Listen to me, Wera,’ he spoke in a voice yet milder and more caring. ‘I
understand you’re having conflicts about yourself. You’re feeling like you’ll never feel
guilty about anything ever again, and that makes you believe you are losing your sense
of morality. Understandable. So you don’t feel guilt right now the way you used to.
Well, enjoy it while it lasts! Your life is short, unlike mine, and that of most vampires,
for that matter. You’ll get old and miserable before you’ve had a good taste of being

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young, free and beautiful. Like it or not, this is probably the best time you will ever
have, being what you truly were meant to be. You don’t like what you are – you can
always leave and pretend it’s something you never were, or live in self-hatred for the
rest of your life. But I say that you’ll have the time for it when you are fifty. What
you’re getting now is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for you, and you only live once,
for a very short while. Think about it. Think about the lives you might have saved by
attacking this poor idiot last night. Think about the things you can do. I’m betting a
part of you wants to live the little life it has left to the fullest, and that part would very
much rather mangle than get mangled on a daily basis…’
‘And a part of me just wants to snuggle up in someone’s arms, cry and share
everything it feels…’ I uttered hoarsely, no emotion whatsoever attached to my words.
‘But I know that once I fall back in there, there’s no going back out. I don’t want to be
heard out. I want to swallow it up on my own.’
Leonard embraced me lightly.
‘One hug won’t kill you, believe me,’ he said to me sweetly. ‘But I won’t be the
one to push you back into the coffin you rose from, metaphorically speaking,’ he
added reassuringly. I looked at him, baffled by his inexplicable nature. ‘This is your
time. Seize it. Carpe Noctem, my darling. Seize the night. Even if you think you’ll
regret it, you’ll regret not seizing it even more.’
He helped me stand up while rewarding me with a mischievous grin. I could
never be this young, I thought distractedly to myself.
‘Oh, I almost forgot,’ I remembered to ask, surfacing from my own private sea of
gloom. ‘How’s Huck?’
‘Oh, he’s fine. He finally understood what I was trying to do, and now he is
about to proclaim me a fallen angel. He’s a strange one. You should go to him, in the
north wing bedroom, he will be so happy to see you’re okay.’
‘I’ll be happy to see he’s okay, too.’
‘You should hurry before he’s worried himself to death. He cares for you, you
know. Oh, and by the way, if you expected me to scold you for what you’ve done’,
Leonard added matter-of-factly on his way out of the dressing room, ‘I will.’
I looked up hopefully, waiting to be punished.
‘Really?’ I grinned.
‘Yes, really.’ Leonard raised a pointy eyebrow at me. ‘I never stop people from
having fun, you know. All I ask of them is that they act responsibly. And just look
what you’ve done with the lovely dress! You should have taken it off first, and then
gone hunting strangers. I’ll forgive you this time, but another accident like that and I’ll
stop buying those for you. Are we clear?’
I couldn’t help smiling in wonder at him as I left to assure sensitive Huck that no
harm had been done to me. Leonard was a piece of work. A child of the night like no
other. The night, I thought on my way through the damp hallways, undoubtedly
preferred him to all of her other children.

***

The next night I didn’t have any similar accidents. Apparently it depended on my
disposition more than anything else. Soon enough, I forgot about the unfortunate

65
happening as I spent day after day in the pleasant company of Leonard, Liz and Huck,
who had become his happy self again. Leonard often joked that Huck’s moods were
more unstable than a woman’s. Huck often joked that Leonard had been involved with
too many of the wrong type of women. Each day and night we had a ball, and I didn’t
miss my guilt one bit. I was indeed truly happy. I was seizing the night.
I had shown the pendant on Downey’s necklace to Huckleberry, seeing it as
Leonard was probably too much of a party vampire to be interested in investigating
ancient symbols. Huck, on the other hand, found it to be infinitely intriguing.
The symbol depicted on the golden pendant consisted of two sharp, crooked
moon crescents tangled in each other in the shape of a twisted “O”, abundant in angles.
Huck immediately concluded that it was a simple astronomical sign most likely to be
related to the phases of the moons in the vampire world. It was not the symbol of an
order or a group of aristocrats, though, he concluded with certainty. They were too
famous to be associated with a symbol so obvious in its meaning that nobody would
even bother remember.
‘But there has to be something more to it,’ Huckleberry noted as he reflected on
the origin and history of the symbol. ‘I will try to find what I can about it in my
personal library at home, and bring you all the books that happen to mention it. You
saw this in a dream, you say?’
‘Then it must be important,’ Leonard giggled lightly from the corner by the
window of the main hall, lacking the slightest bit of interest and showing it to the
fullest. ‘Don’t waste your time with things like this, Wera, they’ll only gain you
problems with the authority around here. You’ll find yourself searching for dusty
books filled with old forgotten legends, which will finally lead you to a few hidden
details about a treachery in the fifth war between vampires and werewolves, or
something like that; then, you’ll look up the family tree of the latest known descendant
of this or that clan, we’ll all get in trouble with some young hot-shot with blue blood in
his veins, and in the end we will have to spill it to save ourselves and it will all be for
nothing. Like in most vampire movies, you know. Let it go, no, I say,’ he advised.
Huck rolled his eyes in indignation.
‘Don’t pay him any attention. I’ll look it up still, Wera, I’ll translate every old
manuscript worth translating, and I’ll tell you what I’ve found, okay?’
‘Whatever you do, don’t tell me,’ Leonard pleaded with theatrical gesturing. ‘I’m
going to go seize the night, and a glass of red wine meanwhile. This whole book-
browsing business is making me bored. Does anyone want me to seize anything for
them as well?’

***

In a land, far, far away, a land brighter, warmer and still duller, Frankie the fiend,
my old friend and former mentor, was feeling miserable, even though I didn’t know it.
In fact, I had given him little thought since I’d left for Leonard’s place. And that was
exactly what was bothering Frankie.
It wasn’t that the fiend was worried about me. He knew I was alright if he hadn’t
felt me being in severe emotional pains – but it was the fact that I was perfectly alright
without him that didn’t give him any peace. For the first time in his existence, Frankie

66
realized he had been forgotten. The one person he had tried to make a strong creature
out of had finally become that strong creature he’d wanted them to be. Now, he was
completely useless. And alone.
He had spent over two weeks all alone now. He kept wondering when the girl he
was desperately waiting for would come back, hoping to receive some sort of a sign
from her, or a message to inform him about the date of her arrival. Eventually, he
realized there was simply no point in waiting. When or if she’d come back was
immaterial. Things would never be the same. Now, he would only make her weaker;
he would only get in the way.
So Frankie decided to leave the home he’d haunted for years quietly, without
unnecessary drama or offended goodbyes. He had always known he would never be
more than a phase, a fleeting moment in someone’s growth, but recently he had started
hoping for more. A foolish thing to do, he thought. He’d gone soft, he really had.
He spread his brown leathery wings into the warm white afternoon and headed
towards the only other person on earth he had ever cared for. This person’s name was
Jeremy Fisherman. Jeremy Fisherman’s current occupation was a rockstar, the lead
singer of a band called, of course, “Frankie”. He had met Frankie the fiend back when
he was only a boy, age sixteen, and had made a deal with him, a bond for life.
Together, they had started something big through music; music that together they
wrote, Jeremy Fisherman performed, and Frankie attempted to change the world
through, and possibly find his soulmate, his missing half. He’d found her, and she had
slowly slipped away. Now that he belonged to nobody again, the fiend had only one
person to go back to. If he’d take him back, of course.
Jeremy Fisherman was a really complicated person. He had spent most of his life
being miserable, no matter what he did to change it. Emotionally, he survived solely
on a charge of inexhaustible aggression towards the world. He feared he would remain
miserable forever, but this didn’t bother him all that much, for he had hardly ever been
truly happy. But what Jeremy Fisherman knew was that whenever Frankie was around,
he tended to be more miserable than ever – even though Frankie was the only one who
could completely understand his misery. Frankie had these effects on people in most
cases.
Frankie sighed, trying to shake off the thought of the possibility that Jeremy did
not want to have anything to do with him anymore. Maybe it was different; maybe he
had finally managed to be happy and wouldn’t mind seeing an old friend. After all, the
last time they had met, Jeremy had been in love – maybe it had worked out for him
this time…
Frankie sighed again, and swallowed, and spat out some ink into the air that
grated at his sides, and rushed forth with renewed courage, and then with increasing
doubt, to the quarters of the person he had made a rockstar, and the person who had
made him who he was. He thought about him all the time on the way, Jeremy still a
boy in his mind, just as he was when he’d first met him… On the inside, he would
always be the same to Frankie, and the fiend trembled slightly at the thought of seeing
the man of his past open the door for him once again, even if he needed no door to
enter…
The only thing left to hope for was that somebody was home…

67
 Chapter Seven
The Boy Who Believed In Angels

Once upon a time there was a man who could sell pain and anger as easily as
though they were candy.
He was a musician. A rather successful one, as a matter of fact. Not the most
successful one, obviously, because we have to be realistic, but he was renowned all
around the civilized parts of the globe and his unconventional videos spun on MTV
every now and then, and that certainly counts for something. It counted for a lot,
especially when it was achieved by someone like him. It wasn't that the guy lacked
talent. It was just that he was a strange man with ideas and ways of expression so
strange and unlike anything supported by the media that one would often wonder how
his songs had made it into MTV's charts in the first place.
How does a person without a chance of being accepted by most audiences
manage to suddenly become improperly rich and famous? The standard answer to this
question is easy: one simply has to have connections. Like knowing somebody who
knows somebody who's someone in the big business. Or being related to the cousin of
an influential member of the high society. Or just being friends with really, really rich
people.
Or, in that particular musician's case, with demons.
The man's name was Jeremy Fisherman, and his personal demonic assistant that
had guided him to his success called himself Frankie. Frankie was a peculiar breed of a
fiend with a bizarre morbid fondness for outcast souls, souls that differed significantly
from those of the masses and could never find peace on Earth or in the afterlife until
they saw the world becoming a better place. Frail, lonesome, sensitive souls with a
specific touch of restlessness – the one precious, rare, unforgeable ingredient that
made them so attractive to the previously mentioned demon. This was what had
attracted Frankie to Jeremy Fisherman in the first place, and later on, through the
music of his mortal partner, the fiend sought out other such souls with a passion,
although without much success. Until the day he came across the soul of a girl who
had named herself Wera, and from then on, everything had changed for him. But his
very first experiment, his very first host, his unique albeit a little inconsistent
companion in misery, melancholy and music would forever have a special place in the
fiend’s metaphorical heart. That place would forever be reserved for Jeremy
Fisherman alone. Jeremy was the beginning of Frankie’s story, and that was why
Frankie would forever hold him dear.
Frankie, however, was not the beginning of Jeremy’s story. As wonderfully
ironic as it would have been for a rockstar to have the path of his life begin with a
demon, that wasn’t the only thing that had made Jeremy Fisherman the person he was
at present.
In fact, it was probably even more ironic to think that the particular factor that
had marked the beginning of Jeremy’s conscious life was as far from demonic as one
could imagine.
Jeremy Fisherman’s story had begun with angels.

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 ***

There was an inexplicable excess of freshness about the air that night, and it
caused the world to smell innocent and young. The evening that had preceded it had
been peaceful, just like all the evenings the townsfolk remembered. The yard in front
of the house on the left was filled with the gentle relaxing scent of fresh-cut grass, and
scabbed-kneed children could be heard laughing in the distance. The sky was
moonless but abundant in cozily sparkling stars densely scattered across the rich velvet
blueness. These were the times when everything had been better. If one took a mental
picture of the neighborhood that night, it would have undoubtedly been black and
white and soaked with tears of sweet nostalgia over old recollected memories.
Into the neatly glowing yellow light that came from the front window of the
house on the left, a girl could be seen curiously peeking out and heard breathing the
wonderful air in, letting out soft, dreamy sighs every now and then. After taking a
closer look, it became clear to the eye that the girl was actually a boy. In fact, he didn't
look like a girl in any way, but the length of the boy's bright ginger hair confused – it
fell almost to the child's shoulders, and that's pretty long for a seven-year-old. The
midnight wind was blowing gently against his lightly smiling face, and the boy's eyes
were focused on the countless glittering stars above. His young, peaceful mind was
inescapably captivated by the sight of the glamorous summer night sky. Had he known
he would grow up one day, and what that meant, without a doubt, he'd wish this
moment stretched ahead in time forever...
A sound of porcelain clinking against copper awoke him from his sweet late
daydream. His mother, he vaguely interpreted what his ears were receiving, was just
finishing the dish-washing. Soon enough, velvet noises produced by slipper-wrapped
steps flew in from the kitchen.
It all felt so real back in those days...
'Come on now, sweetheart', the child heard his mother say as she was taking him,
carefully but determinately, away from the window, and attempting to pull a baby blue
pajama top over his head. To him, the woman's voice seemed miles away, even though
he normally absorbed even the slightest sound around him, which tended to amaze
most of the adults that knew him. But tonight, he was all eyes. 'Got to get you ready
for bed. It's way past your bedtime, you know. And tomorrow is a big, big day...'
As it was getting dressed, the boy's body was not uncooperative towards the
process – instead, it was unusually still for the body of a seven-year-old, and his own
mother shuddered at the utterly distant feel the body of her son had to it that night.
Hesitantly, she attempted summoning the child's wildly fantasizing mind back into the
real world.
'Sweetheart?' the woman's voice trembled. 'You've got school tomorrow,
remember? Your first day at school. Exciting, isn't it? And – a-and it's – it's already
midnight. So...' There was something about the kid's consumed, unchanging, craving
stare that made her feel incredibly uneasy. 'So... you’ve got to go to sleep', she
muttered unconvincingly at last.
'I don't want to go to sleep yet', her son spoke softly, in a suggestive manner, and
the mother felt a shower of relief pour over her as she was once again able to breathe

69
freely now that her child had finally established sensible communication with her. At
last, with great reluctance and difficulty, the boy detached his hypnotized gaze from
the open window and the starry sky outside. He said a silent goodbye to them with a
longing glance, and sighed, not like a seven-year old boy, but like a man in love.
Soon the window was closed and he was back in that room he remembered so
well, the room with the scary orange light, the room that made him feel nervous and
cozy at the same time. His bedroom. Home. Reality.
This made it even harder to resist the temptation to take one last peek out the
window and into the night, but his mother drew the curtains – orange as the light in the
room – and hurried to neatly tuck Jeremy in bed.
'Good night, sweetheart', she whispered, and kissed him on the forehead.
'I don't want to go to sleep yet', little Jeremy insisted stubbornly, and sprang
sitting in his little bed beside the forbidden window. 'I can't. I was looking -'
'- at the stars, like always', the woman smiled sweetly and then slid her fingers
through his ginger hair. 'I know, Jeremy. You do that every night. They're beautiful, I
know, it seems they're brightest on this side of town, but... but you have to rest tonight,
sweetheart. You must be fresh for your first day at school. The stars, they will be here
tomorrow night as well, okay?' she tried to soothe him desperately.
'I'm not looking at the stars', Jeremy uttered in a small, distant voice.
'You're not? Then what are you looking at, Jeremy?' his mother asked softly.
Jeremy's face lit up and acquired a bright, moony smile as he spoke with infinite
certainty and hope:
'I've been trying to spot an angel.'
The woman blinked nervously.
'Jeremy -' she began with difficulty.
'I know what you're thinking, momma', the boy interrupted her cheerfully. 'I
know you think I'm strange, and I believe in strange things.'
A wrinkle of concern lined his mother's face.
'But don't worry', the child continued as hopefully as ever. His determination was
an inexhaustible resource. 'I know what you're thinking: you think, well, we live in this
small town, and we don't have much money or a big house, so they won't notice us
here. They won't come down all the way from heaven just to see us. But I think they
will, momma', Jeremy nodded encouragingly and lovingly patted his mother's
shoulder, 'because they care for the rich and the poor, and the big and the small all the
same... And I'll stay up tonight 'till I see one.
Jeremy's mother let out a weary sigh. She was worried about him, even though
she wasn't sure if she was supposed to. Jeremy was a good boy, bright and sweet and
neat, and very, very clever and imaginative. He was an only child, but he loved his
parents as much as three kids altogether. He didn't have any friends, but this never
seemed to bother him. He was often alone, but never lonely, and never, ever sad,
because it seemed as if a part of him was living in a world much better. He was not
like the other kids. And Jeremy's mother feared she was the one to blame for that.
The truth was any average mother would have been brimming with pride to have
raised such a son. He was... perfect. He was the nicest kid imaginable. Perhaps it was
the toys his parents had bought him over the years. They were the kind one would
define as unisex toys – mostly teddy bears and other fluffy or plastic animals. There

70
was not one fire truck, not one tiny Ferrari, not one soldier with a gun, not one robot
with a laser, not one Rambo or Superman action figure. Jeremy's parents didn't
approve of anything with the slightest focus on technology, machinery or violence, and
were glad to see their son turning out to be completely uninterested in any of those
things, even on the occasions when close relatives to the family had brought him
masculine toys for his birthdays. In fact, Jeremy didn't care for toys all that much.
Apart from the stars, the only thing that fascinated him in the real world were stories.
Fairytales his parents would read to him in bed. He adored them.
The problem was, his mother reflected silently as the remorse and concern were
piling up painfully in her chest, that there were no fairies in the fairytales he had been
raised with.
Most boys grew up with television, computer games and comic books. Most boys
grew up with dreams to be firemen, policemen or astronauts. Most boys grew up with
stories about pirates, cowboys and superheroes.
Jeremy Fisherman grew up with stories of angels.
When a parent first reads to their child excerpts from the Bible, they don't expect
the kid to be particularly interested from the start. But Jeremy hungrily devoured every
word of the Holy Book and it remained engraved inside his young and hopeful mind
forever. The angels were his favorite; he spoke about them almost every day, and
every night, he sat at the open window, hoping to get so much as a glimpse of these
serene, glorious, majestic creatures descending upon his insignificant little town. The
little boy yearned to see a real angel with his own eyes day after day, while his wild
imagination painted more and more detailed and delicate pictures of these dazzling,
other-worldly entities. They were his idols, they were his role models. They were the
most beautiful creatures Jeremy could imagine, even though he was so much better
informed on the subject of angels than any other kid his age and knew too well their
beauty and divinity could not even be imagined. And looking straight into the eyes of
an angel... people could not even come up with words to describe it...
He believed, with all his heart, night after night, day after day, and he never got
tired of it. The constant hopeful, ardent glisten in his eyes did not leave them even for
a second. “But this is good”, his mother hopelessly tried to convince herself yet
another night, “it is so good that our boy is Christian, and such a nice, sweet boy he
is... but he is going a bit too far with his angel obsession, and one day, one day he'll
bump into a different world out there, and that world will crush our sensitive boy's
faith and spirit if we do not stop this while we can... and that day... that day is
tomorrow...”
'Tell me again, momma', Jeremy's voice came ringing and scattered the woman's
grim thoughts as though they were unpleasant rainclouds without a chance against the
rising sun. 'What do they look like? I mean, you've seen them, right?' His face
brightened up again. 'More than once, even. Please tell me, momma, tell me about
what angels are like when you meet them...'
Mrs Fisherman sighed, then indulged Jeremy with a forced smile. None of this
was, of course, true. The closest thing to an angel she'd ever encountered in her
lifetime was her own son. Perhaps it was high time she finally told him the truth. But
how could she extinguish the soft, exquisite light in those dreamy hazel eyes...

71
 She braced herself, wrapped her arms around Jeremy's narrow shoulders, and
prepared to say what she'd been telling him almost every night for almost seven years
now:
'They're extremely diverse', the woman recounted, in the enchanting silky voice
fairytales and legends were told, 'not just the kind you see in books. They can be big or
small, young or older, boys or girls. Their wings can be sparkling and pure white, or
silvery or golden, or blazing, or woven out of the very stars above... But', the boy's
mother emphasized dramatically, 'they're always beautiful.'
'Always', Jeremy repeated with a faraway sigh.
'Yes. Because their beauty lies on the inside, and it shines out from their souls
unto the world outside so powerfully. And the best part is, sweetheart, that you can
find them in the most peculiar places.' Mrs Fisherman was already sinking into the
intoxicating dream she was creating daily for her son. A smile ventured to creep up her
tired face. 'In fact, there are true angels here, on Earth, sent from heaven with a
specific holy purpose, destined to do things noble and good, prepared to help
somebody in trouble, someone who has lost their way. Someone whose soul needs
saving -'
'So they only show up to such people, momma?' Jeremy interrupted his mother
the moment she'd spoken out these words, and there was a tone in his small, tender
voice that gave away a hint of disappointment. 'Does that mean not everybody gets to
meet them?'
He looked up at her imploringly.
'No, Jeremy', the woman's voice grew more and more soothing and reassuring.
Mrs Fisherman held her only child close in her arms. 'Everybody has a chance to meet
them. In fact, being the wonderful, kind-hearted boy you are, I don't think you could
possibly miss them.' Jeremy beamed. 'There's an angel for everyone. Everyone,
Jeremy. And, my dearest little sweetheart, I'm sure that out there in this world there is
a very special angel – pure, divine, and beautiful – an angel just for you,' she finished
tenderly.
That night, nobody was as happy, as filled with genuine innocent joy, as Jeremy
Fisherman. He was so exhilarated that he was gulping the fresh small town air rather
than breathing it. When he could finally contain it within his lungs, he almost yelped
with elation:
'Really?' It was indeed hypnotizing, even if a little bit concerning, to watch the
infinite joy of that little man blossom into a wide, sunny smile. It was a rather strange
smile, in fact. It was unusually soulful, sensitive and tender. It would probably fit
better on the face of a girl. 'Oh momma... an angel just for me... it sounds so
wonderful... you really think I could... that I... that I'll see one one day... Wow, a real
angel, just for me!'
'Yes, sweetheart', the boy's mother nodded with a smile, this time a warm and
sincere one. Once again, she was failing to resist the magic Jeremy was spreading all
around himself. 'Just for you. An angel who lives solely to guide you, protect you,
watch over you; to care for you and look after you, and show you the way whenever
you are lost...'
'And you are absolutely sure that - '

72
 'Yes, I am. I believe in angels, Jeremy', Mrs Fisherman assured him, 'because
there is no other explanation for you being the way you are. You are my angel. You are
the nicest, sweetest kid in the whole wide world. Any angel up there would love to be
your guardian and guide.' She listened to the crickets outside for a minute or two; then,
suddenly, as the inexplicable intoxicating magic in the air began to disperse, Mrs
Fisherman snapped out of it and stood up briskly. 'Come on now. Story time's over. It's
very late, Jeremy. And you must get up early tomorrow, we must get your hair cut for
school.'
Jeremy wasn't too fond of that thought, but there was nothing in the world that
could upset him at the moment. The latest thought that had been planted and bloomed
in his head had given him wings, and he felt as if he could actually rise from the
ground and fly, all the way to the ink-blue sky, and just reach out and touch them...
The angels. Those indescribable, unimaginable creatures. Oh, he imagined them
alright. And, to think, one day he would actually meet an angel... And not just any
angel: an angel just for him...
He listened to the rhythmic lullaby of the crickets for hours and hours on after his
mother had turned out the irritating light in his room, but he didn't sleep. He couldn't.
In the morning, he was exhausted yet unbelievably glad he hadn't missed out on a
single moment of that night.
Because, Jeremy knew that even then, that night was probably the happiest night
of his life.

***

It is a well-known superstition in some countries that when one person is

thinking about another, the unconscious corresponding reaction of the latter is
hiccupping.
That is, of course, just a superstition.
Someone was indeed hiccupping, though, miles and miles away from Frankie, at
the exact moment when his thoughts were focused on that very same person. This fact,
however, had an explanation far more reasonable than the aforementioned superstition.
The person who was coincidentally thought about was hiccupping because he'd had
way too much to drink. In fact, that night, he'd had not only had too much to drink, but
also to smoke, snort and forcefully absorb in his bloodstream. The reasons for him
having done all of this he was not in the state or mood to list; he was barely in the state
or mood to live. But number one on his hypothetical list of reasons was burning before
his eyes like a steaming scarlet wound. For hours the man had been trying to forget
about it, but it was just too hard to achieve that, no matter what he did, because his
main reminder stood on his desk, just a few inches away, ever so still and grinning
cunningly at him.
It was so not nice of her to keep doing that.
Jeremy Fisherman sighed and whimpered, then reached for yet another
miscellaneous bottle. Or at least he thought it was him that did that. Technically, he
was still called Jeremy Fisherman according to what his passport stated, but there was
not a trace of the boy who had once stared out of his window in a relentless attempt to
spot angels in the late evening skies. More than thirty years had passed since he had

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been that boy. Now, Jeremy Fisherman, or whatever was left of him, no longer
believed in angels. He couldn't even bring himself to believe in people. Not that he
was a coward. He'd tried it a couple of times in his lifetime (the last record in that
aspect was very recent, actually), and it had never worked. No one ever dared ask him
why, but if anyone ever had, Jeremy's passionately bitter answer, hissed through
tightly gritted teeth, would have been: “Why? Why?! You wanna know why??
Because the moment you put a little faith in someone, they suddenly decide to go and
do something that's gonna leave you feeling like this for the next decade.”
Take a look at middle-aged Jeremy Fisherman as he desperately sucks in the
content of the next beautifully wrapped bottle. He was tall, although he seemed
strangely small in his misery. His body was a grotesque portrait of the severe constant
battle the drugs and alcohol fought within him and could never make up their mind
about whether they wanted to make him overweight or anorexic. Still, most of the
damage they’d done was hidden underneath the clothes he wore, which no other
person in the universe owned and no other person in the universe would agree to put
on. He had to; he was a rockstar, after all – a word as worn-out as his very soul. In the
world of music, Jeremy went by the name of Frankie, the persona they’d once created
together with his former fiend. But Jeremy felt he had no name at all these days, there
was nothing good left in him that could be clearly defined, and the single reminder of
what he had been many years ago that slightly resembled a self were the now graying
ginger roots of his hair, which he regularly dyed black in the name of business. But the
pathetic ginger inch in his receding hair was far from enough to define Jeremy today;
the only thing that he felt defined him as a person at the moment was the pain caused
to him by the beautiful lady in the photo frame on his desk. Like most people in
Jeremy’s life, she had failed to believe in him and had left him, and the saddest thing
about that was, he thought bitterly, that for a moment he had let himself be defined by
his love for her. After she’d walked out of his life, Mr Fisherman was once again
feeling like he was nothing, which was not a rare emotion for him and yet, the more he
felt it, the more dreadful it got for him to feel it.
Jeremy held the picture of his most recent beloved in his hand. She was so
beautiful that he couldn’t even take the edge off the heartache by calling her insulting
names in his mind. His grasp around it tightened, an instinctive twitch caused by the
blurry mixed longing to crush the image of his lost love and at the same time make
sure it would never escape him. A loud crack followed, and Jeremy started laughing
desperately. A few months ago, he’d swear he’d finally known something like
happiness. And now he was left with the shards of the glass frame sticking into his
palm and the shards of his shattered heart sticking against his ribcage. How ironic.
The good news was that his helpful friends, the drugs and the alcohol, were
finally starting to kick in, and soon Jeremy slipped into a semi-dream state. It helped
him to stop feeling sorry for himself for at least a minute to later visualize a dark,
damp meadow, along which a wolf-like creature sprinted lightly. If it was a wolf after
all, it had to be the skinniest wolf Jeremy had ever seen. Its ribs outlined its nearly
transparent silhouette, and its eyes glowed dimly red. It felt more real than it looked,
though. The ghost wolf hallucination had an air of familiar eeriness about it that, oddly
enough, reminded Jeremy of an old friend…

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 Ah. The fiend. Suddenly, it was all painfully clear in Jeremy’s intoxicated mind.
It was all his fault. Wasn’t it Frankie, that god-forsaken demon he had once welcomed,
that had been the one to tell Jeremy, when he had last seen him, to believe in love, to
put all his faith into it and gamble with his heart foolishly? Wasn’t it the fiend that, an
hour from the end of the world, had given him the most valuable and also the dumbest
piece of advice in his life? If it hadn’t been for him, none of this would have ever
happened. If it hadn’t been for Frankie, Jeremy would have at least been able to
preserve some little bits of what he had once been or had wanted to be. But it was too
late for any of that now.
Through the clogs of colorful fog in his mind, Jeremy Fisherman watched the
ghost wolf turn into a spider and crawl up the opposite wall. The fiend was mocking
him, he knew that. Drunk on his own inner agony, and on many other things, Jeremy
felt about his desk with a shaking hand and grabbed a knife that was pretty rather than
functional. Regardless of that, the desperate man flung it across the room. The knife
bounced off the wall, shattering the spider-shaped ghost of the fiend once and for all.
All the bundles of images and emotions were growing too dense for Jeremy to handle.
His head did what it was used to doing every time the drugs and alcohol kicked in a bit
harder than the body could handle, and fell heavily onto the desk, missing the pieces of
broken glass scattered around it by mere chance. It wouldn’t have made a difference to
Jeremy if it hadn’t, of course, but it sure as hell made a difference to the head.
His brain function thankfully dissolved into unconsciousness.
When Jeremy awoke at last, he was determined to bury the ghosts of the past
deep down inside the graveyard that his heart had become, and never to look back
again.

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 Chapter Eight
Cocaine

Frankie was feeling completely crushed. He had been rejected, again, and from
the whole world, it seemed.
But that was not his main concern right now. His main concern was that Jeremy
Fisherman, the boy he had grown attached to years ago, had become a broken,
devastated man – and there was nobody in the world he was willing to let in any
longer, nobody to dampen the stab of his agony, his perpetual personal hell.
Then, feeling damned and useless and helpless, Frankie decided to die. He was
going to, anyway, whether he liked it or not. He’d just vanish without anyone
believing in him, without anyone to take him in, until he became no more than an echo
of a memory in the recordings of his own songs.
But he couldn’t do it just like that. He was too tired for drama, and too matured
to feel like taking the whole world with him on his way out, but he still felt there was
something to be done before he called it a day once and for all. He had already
accomplished his purpose when it came to Wera: he had changed her world, if even to
a minimal extent. Changing the whole world was impossible even for a demon, he
bitterly realized, and this realization reminded him he was too old to keep on living,
for a demon like himself was not supposed to think like this, ever. Yet, all he wanted
to do now, before it all ended for him, was to make Jeremy Fisherman happy, or make
sure he would be happy, at least, even if he wasn’t going to be around to see it. There
was no self-pity in Frankie’s thoughts; he was not designed like that. And, even now,
there was no sign of insecurity or doubt in them, either. So Frankie was determined to
do whatever it would take to ensure Jeremy’s future happiness in this world even if it
would be the last thing he’d do. And it most probably would.
He had to come up with something good enough, though. Apparently, Jeremy
was a person completely incapable of sustaining his own happiness for more than two
minutes. He’d lose it as soon as he’d obtain it, and it would flee from him like
quicksand through his fingers. Jeremy needed someone to watch over him, even if it
wasn’t going to be Frankie, and Frankie swore he’d find someone for the job, no
matter what.
He thought of Jeremy Fisherman’s wretched life for a little longer, and while his
mind lingered on the more insignificant details of the man’s biography, an idea
suddenly hit him.
A moment later, Frankie knew exactly what he was going to do. And there was
no one in the world that was going to be able to be able to stop him. After all, he was a
demon, he reminded himself, and his notorious demonic confidence grew in size and
density. He had connections.

***

In an entirely different dimension, it was raining, lightning was tearing the sky
apart, the wind was howling like mad, and I was having, like Leonard had promised,

76
the time of my life. Laughter constantly echoed in the mansion since the full moon had
passed. I wouldn’t have to worry about it until the beginning of the next month, and
there were still a few days until then. Right now, they seemed like an eternity away.
Huckleberry was barely joining in on the fun as he had practically buried himself
in books over the past few days. Recently, he’d relocated his private library into
Leonard’s living room, and Leonard was not enjoying it. I didn’t mind, though, and
every now and then I’d spend an hour or two searching the nocturnal literature for
signs similar to the one we were looking for. I felt a little guilty for not helping out
more. Most of these books were written in strange angular runes. I often reminded
Huck that he didn’t have to do all that just for me, but he obviously seemed to be
doing it out of personal interest as well as the kindness of his heart.
‘It’s going to be Halloween soon,’ I recalled several days prior to the holiday.
‘I’ll probably celebrate it with Yana, but I’d very much like to be able to join in on the
party you’ll be holding here – and you will be, won’t you, Leonard? What trick do you
have up your sleeve? Oh, you might find my Halloween costume this year rather
amusing: I’m going be a deranged murderer this Halloween,’ I smiled wickedly. ‘What
about you, guys?’
‘So will we, darling,’ Leonard replied with an exquisite, measured smile. ‘So will
we.’
Huck failed to stifle a grin and hid it behind his pile of books.
‘Really?’ he commented sarcastically. ‘Again? Why don’t you try to impersonate
a respectable gentleman for once?’
‘Because that’s what I do every regular day of my life, Huck,’ the other vampire
retorted with impeccable grace. ‘Honestly, sometimes I think you’ll never learn. You
can’t be pleasant and well-behaved day after day without breaking the habit every now
and then. It gets boring.’

***

The roaring storm was condensing around Frankie the fiend, and the closer he
got to where he was headed, the more threatening and uncontrollable it became. On the
other hand, this was not illogical at all, because Frankie was obstinately flying towards
the storm’s very eye. He gritted his teeth angrily as he dashed through black clouds
and blacker skies and dodges every web of light and fire the lightnings crossing the
chilly air were forming before him. It wasn’t the next most pleasant experience in his
life, but he was prepared for anything.
At last, after nearly three days of restless flying, soaked, exhausted, burnt and
enraged, Frankie arrived at a gate floating unsupported in the middle of the
atmosphere. It was a place no space shuttles could reach. The gate, which he had once
remembered to be golden, seemed to have recently begun to rust. The lightnings were
carefully avoiding it, but the storm growled and splashed around them, mighty, cruel
and unforgiving.
These were dark times for Heaven.
Frankie smirked joylessly and banged his fist against the rusty gates until the bars
shook and jangled. For nearly twenty minutes, nobody answered his demanding

77
knocking. No wonder; no angel was so dedicated to his duties that he’d come out to
see what’s going on at the Gates in this ghastly weather.
Well, no angel, except for one.
A cloaked figure approached shyly and quietly, removed its hood and whispered
guiltily to Frankie:
‘Oh my God, it’s you.’
‘Not the kind of reaction I expected of you, Possey,’ the fiend mocked the
evidently nervous angel. ‘Aren’t you glad to see me?’
‘Shh!’ Possey the angel lowered his own voice even more, since he couldn’t
forcefully lower Frankie’s. ‘Yes, of course I am, I’m so sorry. What happened to you?
Long time, no see… How’s Wera and the others? I heard you were human, so how
come –’
‘It was a phase,’ Frankie jerked his head impatiently, and his drenched hair
slapped noisily across his winged back. ‘Possey became even more nervous. ‘Listen, I
didn’t come here for a friendly chit-chat. I need a favor. I need you to let me in.’
Possey shook uncertainly, and it wasn’t because of the cold.
‘Now, Frankie, you know I’m not authorized to – ’
‘Oh, don’t give me that. I heard you got promoted and have been teaching the
other angels to play rock ‘n’ roll songs for the past year or so. Open up; it’s important.’
‘Oh dear. You didn’t come to end the world again, did you? If things go to hell
like they did the last time, I’ll be in deep trouble…’
‘Don’t worry. It’s a small favor, really. I just need to speak to a certain angel,
that’s all.’
‘Which one?’
Frankie explained.
‘Um… alright then,’ Possey murmured hesitantly in agreement, ‘but keep it
down, will you? My feathers are at stake… I’ll bring her to you in a minute…’
As a rule, angels were sexless, and they acquired the form of really feminine
winged men – with small differences, of course. This was why Frankie was a little
shocked to face the first strictly female angel he’d seen on the other side of the bars.
She had large white feathery wings, spotted with black here and there, long brown
hair, and an unyielding expression. She distantly reminded of a Greek goddess. She
would have looked attractive if a long white robe didn’t cover her clearly feminine
body from head to toe. A deep, wide scar made the left side of her beautiful face
appear frightening and grotesque. Frankie whistled in amazement, as he’d never
expected an angel to have a scar, and then he remembered: sometimes – very rarely, of
course, but it was still possible – human beings were allowed to become angels
posthumously as well. The fiend was impressed.
‘Wow,’ he remarked casually, ‘you must have been one damn good lady.’
‘Shut up,’ the female angel said sternly. ‘What do you want?’
Possey stepped back.
‘I have a task for you, a request, actually,’ the demon began. ‘I won’t be around
for much longer, so consider it my last wish before I die… You wouldn’t want to pass
on that offer, because it’s nothing selfish… I want you to become someone’s guardian
angel. On earth,’ he clarified. ‘To help him get on the right path.’
The woman smirked, and the scar became even uglier.

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 ‘Would you look at that? Haven’t heard this one from a demon. Sure, then, how
could I say “no”, anyway? I’m an angel, I’ve done this before, sometimes out of the
kindness of my heart. Well, stop wasting my time, then, demon. I’ll do it, starting
tomorrow. Who’s the guy?’
Frankie realized he should have paused before answering, but he didn’t bother to.
‘Jeremy Fisherman.’
The moment this was said, the storm seemed to grow even wilder, but it was
nothing compared to the storm in the eye of the female angel. Her pupils acquired a
mad scarlet flare, and had someone been sucked into these eyes, they would have been
condemned to an eternity of fire and brimstone. When she spoke again, however, her
voice was capable of making all hell freeze over.
‘Walk away now, while you still have the chance.’
‘I’m sorry?’ Frankie was so stunned he forgot to be rude and impudent. ‘But you
just said you’d do it, what’s the matter?’
‘You said Jeremy Fisherman, right?’ the angel inquired icily. ‘The rockstar?’
‘Yes, that’s the one. He’s not as bad as he seems, really.’
‘I would have done this for anyone else on the planet. Any crook or murderer.
Anyone, except for him.’
Frankie groaned with endless irritation.
‘God dammit, does this guy owe everybody drugs?’ he shouted to the heavens in
general. ‘What does everyone hate him so much for? I helped write his songs, you
know, and they’re brilliant, for the record!’
‘Shh!’ Possey hissed from his spot in the distance. The other angel had restored
her firm indifference.
‘I said “no”. You cannot make me do this. Not even God Himself can make me
do this. That’s my final answer.’
Frankie realized he wasn’t going to win this way.
‘I’m sorry, Frankie,’ Possey apologized mildly. ‘It’s a noble purpose that you’re
after. But maybe you should have asked someone else.’
‘No one else would be any good,’ the fiend replied blankly. ‘Aw well,’ he said
with a sigh of resignation, and raised his voice significantly when he continued, ‘it’s a
shame, then. It seems the world will never see Jeremy Fisherman be led onto the path
of good. Too bad, I bet that would have been a great achievement for God – making
the one celebrity that has defied him the most admit his faults, repent and join the side
of the light. I bet God would have been really proud of you if you’d done this for Him,
right?’
He was practically yelling now. Possey had given up trying to compel him to be
quiet. He stifled a guilty grin and vanished. About a minute later, in which he
reappeared, he patted the other angel on the shoulder and announced, blushing:
‘They’re... they’re calling for you. It’s urgent.’
‘So I thought,’ the angel woman murmured, and aimed a demolishing fiery stare
at Frankie. ‘You’re going to fry for this, demon.’
Frankie grinned triumphantly in her face.
‘Too bad God is all-hearing, baby,’ he rolled his blank eyeballs innocently to the
rumbling sky. ‘But hey, I thought even God couldn’t make you go on this mission.
We’ll see about that, shall we? Good luck with the negotiations!’

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 And he flew away cheerfully from the better side of the Gates, feeling victorious,
brilliant and more Frankie than he’d ever been that year.
Exactly twenty-four hours later, on the night of Halloween, a grumpy female
angel in the shape of a human being set off reluctantly in the pouring rain to the
mansion of the person she was going to guard against her will, cursing a particular
demon with a thousand words the use of which was most certainly not permitted in
heaven.

***

Nobody noticed that the bodyguards and guard dogs of the Fisherman mansion
fell asleep in the rain and the alarms didn’t burst into hysterical shrieks when someone
who wasn’t supposed to be there approached. The security was really tight, especially
tonight, since it was Halloween, after all, the paparazzi never slept, and neither did the
fans of Frankie the rockstar, who could always get the crazy idea to go wish him a
happy Halloween in the middle of the night just to get an autograph or two. But none
of it stopped the unwelcome visitor from entering the yard of the mansion. And the
person who noticed it the least was Jeremy Fisherman, who was once again drunk on
Halloween and completely on his own. In fact, right now, he was so lonely that if he
wasn’t so drunk, he’d get the idea to dismiss the security and turn off the alarms just in
case someone came to wish him a happy Halloween.
He sat miserably by his desk, tried to write something and gave it up. Then, he
remembered her, the woman who had his heart, the same one who had left him dying
without it, and wondered if she would bother to wish him a happy Halloween tonight.
But nobody was coming to visit, or calling just to hear his voice. His manager,
Adam, had phoned briefly to ask him about a record deal they were about to close, but
that was it. They’d gone to school together, Jeremy and Adam. One would think
Adam would display at least a little personal interest in his ex classmate.
So Jeremy sat there, feeling miserable, and nobody was calling to make him feel
better, because they knew he was always miserable. And everybody – his manager, his
fans, his agent and probably everyone except for his own mother – was interested in
his misery. He made the best of his songs when he was depressed beyond his own pain
threshold. And his music was what he was loved for. If Jeremy Fisherman was happy,
nobody would care for him.
Probably, he thought bitterly, not even her.
And then a noise was heard from the garden outside, and then in the hallway. It
was not the alarms; in fact, it was the doorbell. Jeremy was feeling so down he didn’t
even wonder how the security hadn’t registered a foreign presence. He was just glad to
hear someone was at the door, even if it was a deranged fan who had come to trick-or-
treat. Or, maybe – and a long lost spark of hope was re-lit in the battered soul of
Jeremy Fisherman – it was her, coming to say she is sorry, or at least to say “hi”, just
to remind him she hadn’t forgotten about his existence…
Jeremy ran downstairs, tripping every three steps in his black bunny slippers – it
was the him thing to wear – and flew to the main hallway, where he finally slowed
down. He was wearing nothing but a bathrobe and a pair of purple satin shorts, and for
a brief moment he wondered about what she would be wearing if she was at the door,

80
and tried to imagine the brand of lipstick she’d be wearing, and the effect her
appearance would have on his shorts…
He flung the front door open impatiently, his black-nailed fingers were shaking
while they struggled with the lock. He was struck by a powerful wave of
disappointment, and perhaps the faint signs of a future hangover.
There was a girl at the door, but it wasn’t her. It wasn’t a fan trick-or-treating
either. This girl, was, in fact, a lot younger than the girl he had expected to see, and not
at all in appearance like any fan of his. Disappointment quickly grew into curiosity in
Jeremy’s mind.
She was short and brown-haired, no more than eleven, standing all alone in the
bucketing rain. She had big brown eyes and a strange pout on her face, the left side of
which was heavily scarred all the way from the eyebrow to the lower lip. For a
moment, Mr Fisherman experienced something similar to compassion. This girl would
not have the chance to enter a beauty contest when she got older, or get a boyfriend in
junior high school. That scar was really hideous, but it wasn’t just that. Her
complexion was an ill kind of yellow, her expression was rather unfriendly, her hair
was greasy and her clothes were worn-out. Yet, she evoked sympathy in him, he was
now certain about that. All the little girl was wearing in the cold rainy night was a
faded red T-shirt which was much too big for her and had equally faded words printed
on it boldly asking: “Does This Color Make Me Look Sexy?” Jeremy smiled lightly,
because that was the kind of thing he’d usually laugh at, such as a girl much too young
to be wearing such a sign on her. Then, he realized he’d been standing at the door
staring at the girl for nearly a minute.
‘Hey there,’ he greeted her softly, ‘what are you doing here, little girl? Do you
want some candy?’
To his surprise and amusement, it looked as if the girl rolled her eyes to the sky
and murmured:
‘I’m not carrying a bag.’
Jeremy realized the stupidity of his question. ‘The rain was sobering him up
pretty quickly.
‘I’m sorry,’ he blathered out, completely baffled. ‘Are you lost? Where are your
mommy and daddy?’
‘They’re gone,’ the strange little girl replied calmly. ‘Could you be my daddy?’
Mr Fisherman laughed at himself, but turned clearly paler at the thought of
adoption.
‘Nonono,’ he leaned towards the girl with a nervous grin, ‘I’m sorry, little girl; I
cannot be your daddy. I’m sure there are many better daddies for you out there.’
The girl stared in wonder at his ruined make-up and painted nails.
‘Could you be my mommy, then?’ she tried, just in case. Jeremy laughed again,
this time simply because he found it funny.
‘No, dear, I can’t be your mommy either. But, tell you what… why don’t… Why
don’t you stay the night at my house, and tomorrow we can try to find you a mommy
and a daddy, okay? You’ll catch a cold in the rain out here.’
‘Damn right I will,’ the girl nodded with irritation. The rockstar was stunned, and
walked the little stranger in, wondering what else she might have to say that was out of
the ordinary.

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 He was so happy he was going to spend the evening on Halloween with someone
who wasn’t interested in his money – sure, it was possible that it was some sort of a
trick, but it wasn’t likely – that he completely forgot his house was not at all the kind
of house it was good to welcome a little girl in.
‘What’s your name?’ Jeremy asked, while he was trying to find clothes in his
wardrobe small enough for the kid, and the kid itself was busy absorbing every piece
of information about the house it could get a hold of. ‘You do have a name, don’t
you?’
‘No,’ the girl replied cheerfully, while she was examining a painting in the
hallway by Jeremy himself which depicted a naked woman. It was not the good kind
of a naked woman, if there was any good kind of naked women for little girls to look
at. The host turned around for a second, then saw her looking at his work of art, and
jumped towards the painting to cover it up with his bathrobe, but it was too late.
‘What’s that?’ the nameless child asked him innocently.
‘That,’ Jeremy started to sweat as he began to answer, ‘um, that… Well, that’s a
woman, of course. But she looks… she looks strange, because… because she’s been
bad. You don’t want to be like her, do you?’
‘No,’ answered the girl with the same childish calm as before. ‘Do you?’
Another question much too complicated for Jeremy’s inebriated mind.
‘No,’ he responded hesitantly. ‘No, of course not. Um… um… so, as I was
saying, how come you don’t have a name?’ and thought to himself: “That’s going to
make it a lot harder to find you a mommy and daddy…”
‘Do you have a name?’
Jeremy let out a sigh of relief. Finally, a question he could answer.
‘My name is Jeremy,’ he said almost with pride, ‘but people call me Frankie, and
my close friends call me Jay. And you’re my friend, so you can call me Jay. Um… I’m
sorry to ask this, but, when you said your parents were gone, you meant…’
‘Yes,’ the young guest in Jeremy’s house said, ‘dead. Like this,’ she went over to
the other side of the wall and pointed at a picture of a bloody skull held by two bloody
hands, also a work of Jeremy’s optimistic brush.
The rockstar flinched in horror.
‘Why did you draw this? It’s not pretty,’ the girl kept inquiring. Jeremy was
sweating and blushing and shaking. He did make a living of corrupting children with
depressing music and horrific imagery, but not this young, never this young.
He decided there was no point in lying. He couldn’t bring himself to lie to
children. He liked children; they weren’t as evil as everyone else.
‘I drew it because I felt something bad and it made me cry.’
The disturbingly curious child thought this idea over, then continued filling in her
mental questionnaire:
‘Did that woman over there make you cry as well?’
Jeremy shook again, and swallowed hard, but not because he was trying to avoid
an honest answer. It had been years in his career since he’d heard something so
insightful about his works. Indeed, he’d never drawn a single naked woman just for the
nakedness of it. He always drew them ugly, carnivorous, disfigured, bloody, dead.
They always made him cry. There wasn’t a single woman on his canvases that hadn’t
made him cry.

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 ‘Yes,’ he sighed heavily, and decided to put his paintings somewhere safe from
view first thing in the morning. ‘But it’s okay, see? I’m smiling now. Listen, girl, if
you don’t know what your name is, then you might have to stay here a little longer
than I thought, and until then I’ll have to know what to call you, so how about we
choose you a nice name, alright?’
‘I’d like that,’ the girl smiled sweetly, and Jeremy felt slightly elated. He’d
forgotten how nice it was making someone smile. Thank goodness, she still had no
idea who he was and what he did on a daily basis.
Well, it wasn’t like he was a murderer or anything, right? So there was no harm
in sheltering the girl for a day or two, or even a week. He needed company that didn’t
make him sing or undress or sign things all the time. Besides, he could pull it off,
‘cause he couldn’t be the worst person in the world to take care of a child, for a little
while, of course. Was he?
He took the girl by the hand and led her further into the hallway, then up the
stairs, and attempted to keep the casual conversation going. He deliberately covered
whatever painting hung on the walls they passed with his body.
‘So’, Jeremy asked as they entered the kitchen, and started checking shelf after
shelf for something to feed the poor lost nameless and parentless girl with. She
curiously followed his every movement. ‘I’m going to make you something to eat,
how about that, and meanwhile you could maybe try to come up with an idea for a
name of yours.’
‘What do I have to choose from?’ the perpetual questionnaire asked.
‘Oh,’ her host said in a fit of generosity, ‘you can have any name in the world
you like. Any name at all, even if it isn’t a name.’
‘I’d like to be named after something sweet,’ the girl made up her mind
immediately. ‘Like a fruit, or candy, or a spice. Can I do that?’
‘Of course you can! Like I said, any name you want,’ Jeremy nodded
approvingly, while he was checking the upper drawers of the kitchen cupboard for the
sugar. ‘You could be Cherry. Or even Vanilla. Or something different, something
nobody else is named after. How about Cinnamon? Do you like cinnamon?’
‘No. I don’t like cherries, either,’ the child replied determinately. ‘I want to be
named after this one,’ she pointed at a small clay pot on the shelf Jeremy was just
checking.
At this moment, Jeremy went really, really pale.
‘Oh, you mean this one?’ he hurriedly tried to draw her attention to the pot next
to the one the girl had chosen, hoping this would work on a ten-year-old as well as on
a five-year-old. ‘That might be pepper, though. It’s a spice, but it really isn’t sweet. Or
would you like to be called Pepper?’
‘No, I said that one,’ Jeremy’s young visitor insisted. ‘I want to see what’s in it.
It’s my destiny. I chose it, tell me what it is!’
Jeremy sighed. He didn’t lie to children, ever, and he was proud that lying to kids
wasn’t among his many sins. Until tonight, he thought gloomily. This time, he had to
lie.
‘Oh, that’s just powdered milk,’ he shrugged, and, to appear more sincere, briefly
showed her the contents of the small brown pot. ‘That’s not a very good name, you

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see. Unless you want to be called Powdered Milk, and your friends might laugh at you
for this…’
‘Will you laugh at me?’
‘No, of course!’ Jeremy exhaled in another rush of relief. Thank goodness, he
had directed her attention elsewhere. ‘I wouldn’t laugh at you. So, you want to be
Powdered Milk, then?’
‘No. It’s a stupid name. But I would like some. I’m very thirsty.’
‘Really?’ the rockstar’s voice grew thinner and thinner. ‘W-wouldn’t you like to
have some milk from a carton, or – ’
‘No, I want powdered milk, and that’s that,’ the girl stomped her foot on the
floor. ‘Give me some, please. Please.’
‘But there isn’t that much left –’
‘Are you being selfish?’
Jeremy gave up. This girl was impossible to lie to.
‘That’s not powdered milk, dear,’ he sighed helplessly. ‘I’m sorry I lied to you.
I’m sorry I can’t give it to you, either. I know that’s what the media would imagine I’d
do, but… I don’t want to imagine what would happen to you if you took all of that in.
Then, the police will probably think I did it to you on purpose. But I’m not that sick.
And I will do everything in my power not to let you touch that pot. I’m sorry.’
He put the pot filled with white powder back on the shelf and closed the door of
the cupboard. Then, he looked at the little girl. She looked like she was about to cry.
He felt like a criminal.
‘Won’t you tell me what it was, then?’ she mumbled in quiet disappointment,
looking up at Jeremy with her large brown eyes. ‘Since you won’t give it to me
anyway?’
‘It’s cocaine,’ Jeremy replied seriously. ‘I don’t know if you know what this is…
you might have seen it on the news or something. It’s not for you, trust me. It’s not for
me, either, but it’s just something… something to pass the time with. Please… don’t
look at me like that. Just remember never to touch it, because then we will both be in
real big trouble. Gosh… I’d better try to find a lock for this damn thing…’
‘Cocaine,’ the girl repeated automatically under her breath, focusing very hard on
the word. ‘Cocaine.’
‘No. No, just… forget I ever said it. You’ll know what this is when you’re old
enough.’
‘I know what it is,’ she finally concluded with a cheerful voice. She seemed to
brighten up too, unlike Jeremy.
‘You do? And you know what it’s for? Oh, hell… they keep getting younger and
younger…’
‘Yes. That’s my name,’ the kid explained determinately. ‘That’s what I want my
name to be.’
Jeremy Fisherman dropped the pepper pot on the floor and it broke just beside
his foot. He didn’t even notice.
‘Are you kidding me?’ he stared at her in sober bewilderment.
‘I told you it was my destiny,’ the girl shrugged innocently. ‘I wanted the name
of the thing in the pot. And you said I could have any name I wanted, right? If you’ve
lied to me twice, then you’re a liar,’ she added manipulatively.

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 Jeremy felt he was going insane. It was enough that he knew a demon in his
lifetime, but that was too much.
‘Fine,’ he snarled, raising his arms hopelessly, and gave up looking for the key
for the cupboard. ‘Have it that way… Cocaine… Hm… it kind of fits you, you know.
You’re a handful for the brain. Come on now, come with me. I’ll take you to the
fridge, and you’re allowed to pick anything you like that’s in it as long as it isn’t
bottled. Then, we’ll put it in the microwave and eat it. Coming? Cocaine, come on, for
goodness’ sake!’ he urged. The newly named girl followed him faithfully as soon as
she’d been called by name. “Cocaine”… what am I saying? Have I lost it completely?’
He felt like he had had the chance to play God for one night, and had turned out
to be the sickest god there could be. Naming an innocent child after a hard drug… but
she’d asked for it! Perhaps it was he who made everything he came close to rotten.
Letting her see pictures of skulls and dying naked ladies… was he really that much of
a sick and twisted man, or was it just a series of accidents?
Jeremy thought about it. And then he answered his own question. After all, he
was sick enough to keep the cocaine in a pot along with the spices in the kitchen. He
couldn’t expect anything better of himself than to do this to the mind of a little girl he
barely knew.
And, as he led the skipping Cocaine – who would change the world as he knew it
beyond the limits of his morbid imagination – along the corridor to the living room
with the fridge, and as he slowly accepted the undeniable sickness that had long since
spread in his messed up mind, Jeremy Fisherman shared a secret half-grin with his
twisted self, because a part of him found the idea of a little lost girl called Cocaine
extremely amusing.

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 Chapter Nine
Unrequited

Our Halloween was pretty wild. In both worlds.

‘Alright suckers, bottoms up!’ urged Leonard from under the table, cackling like
a madman. He had already warmed up with the contents of a liquor store or two and
was feeling at his best, even though his reflexes were far from what they normally
were. Luckily, he was too drunk to care. ‘The last one standing while singing “Ve Vill
Suck You” is the winner!’
‘I can’t sing that,’ I shook my head, blushing equally out of shame and liquor.
Normally, I hated drinking; but this was something that usually happened to people
who hated drinking in the end. ‘It doesn’t sound right, it really doesn’t.’
‘And you’re not sitting, you’re crawling,’ Huckleberry pointed out in response to
Leonard’s challenge. ‘With great difficulty, too.’
‘Then that gives you both a chance to win,’ the blond vampire reflected at the
height of my knees. ‘See, I’m making it easier for you by just sitting down here…’
‘You’re lucky it’s your own house,’ Huck remarked. ‘We wouldn’t want to carry
you home in this state of mind, body and soul.’
‘Oh, but my soul is flying! I don’t think that anything can stop it now on its way
to heaven!’
‘Except for possibly the table,’ I said, and Huck and I both laughed. He had a
smooth, gentle kind of laughter. I wondered why I never realized how pleasant it really
was while I was completely sober.
‘You know, we could have had a nice quiet Halloween if it weren’t for him,’
Huck joked innocently. ‘But I’d say it could have gone even worse. By the way, I have
to say, you’ve made a brilliant serial killer out of yourself.’
‘Thank you,’ I nodded gratefully.
‘Except that they’re usually mean and vicious. And you’re positively wonderful.
So the outfit would have worked even better if I didn’t know you at all. And that was a
compliment, in case you didn’t get it in the hopeless complexity of the sentence,’ he
added humbly.
‘Thank you… again.’
Leonard attempted to stand up, hit the table as predicted, hit it again, then
somehow managed to drag himself away from it, got to his knees when it was safe to
rise, and, wobbling and swaying, headed towards me, tripping in his glass along the
way.
‘Okay, Wera,’ he announced solemnly, wrapping his arm heavily around my
shoulder, ‘I’m thinking… I’m thinking I should say a few words to you, just in case
they slip away from my memory in a few minutes. In private. Come on,’ he stammered
gracefully, ‘leave Huck to his… his… reading and drinking… reaking… or
dreading… no, they both mean different things… Never mind. Join me in the yard.
Garden. Whatever. The thing with lots of grass on it. You know.’

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 ‘But you can barely walk,’ I reminded the vampire tactfully, seeing him leaning
on thin air and grinning stupidly. Leonard raised an index with an air of great
importance and red rum.
‘True,’ he admitted proudly, ‘that’s why it would be a bummer if I had to carry
you too. So, come on. Come on. To the green thing.’
When we went out in the rain on the lawn in front of the gates of the mansion, he
leaned me as gently as a drunk vampire could on the nearest brick wall he could
distinguish, hoping that at least one of us wouldn’t fall, looked straight at me with
silver eyes wide open in intoxicated astonishment, and spoke to me as if he were a
divine messenger speaking to the unenlightened peasants:
‘Wera,’ he said woozily, ‘I can feel the world changing.’
I hesitated for a little while.
‘Um, that’s nice,’ I commented, trying to hide my confusion. I wasn’t very good
at talking to people who weren’t sober, especially when my mind wasn’t working quite
as it was supposed to either. ‘I suppose. Good for you.’
‘No, Wera,’ Leonard muttered wisely, or at least so he thought. ‘I can really feel
the world changing. Right now. Can you feel it?’
He stared at me hopefully, eyes as big as tennis balls.
‘No, Leonard, I’m very sorry. But I am sure it’s true.’
‘Me too. But that’s not good. Nonono. Not at all. Something bad is going to
happen. But that’s okay, ‘cause good things are happening too. Well, not really,
depending on the point of view. In fact, it might all be bad.’
I frowned at his face, beautiful and dreamy even in his drunkenness. This was
getting a little irritating.
‘Leonard, tell me, did you go psychic all of a sudden, or just psycho?’
‘Isn’t the moon really beautiful tonight?’ his coherent response followed. ‘Oh,
wait. That’s just a firefly.’
‘Listen, you’re very drunk, and your place is at home. Well, as long as Liz
doesn’t see you in this state. And it’s raining, you know, and I’m getting cold. So, I
think I got the idea: the world is changing, the moon is beautiful…’
‘And the other way around.’ Leonard could start a cult of his own that night.
‘Yeah, okay… Is that what you brought me here for? Is that what you had to say
to me?’
The vampire looked as though he was asked to do a mathematical sum the
solution to which only Huck was capable of reaching.
‘No,’ he concluded abruptly, and frightened me with his mental behavior. ‘No.
There was something else… Something about… books… and that symbol…’
A spark of interest flickered in my chest, and I was suddenly hopeful enough to
believe that Leonard would actually say something meaningful, or have a revelation
about the mysterious moon symbol I’d pondered over for the past few days, despite his
current inebriated state.
‘Really? Yes? I’m all ears. Go on, please…’
‘Yes,’ Leonard’s head jerked abruptly again, and he nearly sank down to his
knees, but the wall of the mansion supported him in his conflict with gravity. ‘Yes, I
finally remember.’ His eyes widened to the point of popping out of their sockets.
‘Huck likes you. Yes. That’s what I wanted to say. And I can prove it.’

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 I smiled nervously.
‘Well, that’s nice,’ I muttered, trying to appear clueless about what he meant by
it, but it was clear to me that any woman trying to appear clueless in such a situation is
a liar. In fact, the one possible interpretation of the words “he likes you” that we try to
pretend we haven’t thought about is exactly the first possible interpretation that springs
to our minds. I was disgusted of women in general, and therefore of myself. We were
such romantic creatures. ‘I like him too, very much.’
Leonard knew the female nature possibly better than anyone in the world.
‘You know very well what I mean,’ he continued slowly and sternly. ‘He likes
you. He has never said anything good about or to any woman since Sarah. That’s…
that’s about a century. He hasn’t had a woman in a century. And considering that,
liking you means a lot.’
‘Um,’ I hesitated, ‘supposing that I can see what you might or might not be
talking about…’ I was going to deny realizing what he was trying to convey until the
very last moment that I could. ‘I’m not so sure what I have to do with it… or what I
have to do about it…’
‘Look,’ Leonard said, as seriously as anyone who had devoured the content of
eighty-seven bottles of liquor could. ‘Huck is my friend. And you are too, so I am not
going to threaten anyone or force anyone into anything. I won’t break your legs if you
break his heart, because you will, and you don’t deserve to have your legs injured for
that. On the other hand… the other hand… how many hands are there?... On the other
hand, I can’t really tell you to go marry him. There’s nothing that you have to do.
Just… be sensitive about it. Okay? You know, in a sensitive way. I’m not sure if he
knows. He sure as hell doesn’t know that I know. He’s a little stupid for someone this
smart, isn’t he? I just know… that I know. You’re the only person he says nice things
to. And sometimes… sometimes he doesn’t say nice things exactly because he wants
to say them, do you get the idea? Anyway… just go about your way. I know that it will
be fine. Just… just… follow the little birds.’
‘I’m not sure if I should believe you. I have no reason to believe anyone likes me
until it has been proven that he does. Nothing good ever comes out of it. I’ll start to act
weird… besides, I don’t really feel anything for… and for heaven’s sake, what little
birds?!’
Leonard looked up at the sky.
‘I’m very drunk.’
‘That’s the most truthful thing you’ve said tonight,’ I scolded him, grabbed him
by the laced sleeve, and attempted to drag him a little closer to the main gate. ‘Come
on, you need to sleep. Or rest in your coffin, or whatever it is you do. You most
certainly have had enough partying for tonight.’
Finally, the vampire could instinctively tell the direction he was supposed to be
walking in. We strode through some occasional dying rose bushes and ivy, while he
was swooning towards the ground, singing “Ve Vill Suck You”. Had that been the
human world, I would have been terribly ashamed of him. Aw well, I thought, at least
we had had a really exciting Halloween night. Things could always get much worse
than Leonard getting drunk, especially with him around. For example, Huck could
really like me, and that would have been even worse. But such a thing was impossible.

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 It was possible for things to get worse, however, and my thoughts about that
were confirmed by a shrill, distant scream coming from the living room window on the
second floor of the mansion. The blood froze in my veins. I gasped, grabbed Leonard’s
sleeve to the point of tearing, and we ran like crazy to the gate of the mansion.
This was definitely turning out to be a wild Halloween.

***

‘And this is my room,’ Jeremy announced shyly, waving randomly at the black-
painted chaos that spread beyond the door. ‘It’s not much, but I hope you like it. And
here is the bed you will be sleeping on.’
Cocaine looked around, curious as ever. She had been changed into dry clothes,
which were again too large for her, but Jeremy had nothing better to offer. Now, she
was fashionably outfitted in a Black Sabbath T-shirt and matching black khaki, which
held with difficulty to her little narrow waist with the help of a leather belt, encrusted
with tiny skulls. It went around her waist twice. She looked like the child of someone
ridiculously obsessed with metal music, but Jeremy was in fact extremely proud of
himself for dressing her so successfully.
‘But,’ she said after a minute or two of exploring the room of the shock rocker,
‘where are the windows?’
And she was, once again, perfectly right. It was a bedroom without any windows.
There were all kinds of objects in it, and all kinds of gothic decorations – everything,
except for windows. Old records and cassette tapes were scattered on the floor in
between various black bracelets and leather jackets. More clothes – usually either in
black, blue or purple – lay in messy piles on the three beds of the huge bedroom. Black
satin sheets were hiding beneath them. Black crosses and satanic symbols hung from
the walls above thick books on thin tables. The walls were covered in dark, psychotic
confessions of previous depression fits, words of damnation and poems of despair,
coal-black spots, photographs of mutilated body parts and ancient spells for
summoning demons. The entire room seemed to be screaming in anger and agony at
anyone who entered, and could only be pacified or survived by its owner, it seemed.
And, of course, there was no a single window to be seen, even though curtains were
present. This was more of a fortress than a place to call home. If Cocaine had seen
“The Omen” movies, it would have reminded him of the room covered in sheets from
the Bible in order to keep demons out. Not only did the owner of this room did not
want anything to do with the world outside; he also wanted to make sure that nothing
unwanted would ever come in. This room was a reflection of Jeremy’s soul, it was his
world – and nobody was invited. He had locked himself in a prison of his own, and it
was a place where the outside world would never reach him.
Jeremy Fisherman was proud of his fortress.
‘The windows,’ he explained coldly, ‘well, there aren’t any. I didn’t think it was
necessary. I have windows everywhere else, and the view from here isn’t much.’
‘But where is the sun going to shine from?’ Cocaine uttered, bewildered and
disappointed.
‘The sun is just outside every day, no need to check all the time,’ the rockstar
waved his hand impatiently. To him, the issue was immaterial. ‘You won’t be worried

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about that, will you? Come on, you’re a big girl. You’re not afraid of the dark, are
you?’ he laughed feebly, and hated himself for it.
Cocaine made no notice of his impolite mockery.
‘You’re a big boy,’ she said simply in return. ‘You’re not afraid of the light, are
you?’
Something in Jeremy stirred and burned and turned scarlet.
‘There’s plenty of light here,’ he said through gritted teeth, slapping the light
switch on, and the chandelier lit the room dark yellow. Jeremy tried to shake off his
temporary embarrassment. ‘There, it’s as good as the sun, maybe even better.’
‘And cocaine is as good as powdered milk, maybe even better,’ the girl shrugged
sarcastically, and reached for an ancient grimoire to examine.
Jeremy was furious underneath the layer of make-up and his impassive
expression. He was normally a very eloquent man. He’d been asked the most
uncomfortable questions the media could come up with, and he always answered each
of them brilliantly. He was flawless, and now he didn’t know what to say when his
lifestyle was being mocked by a little girl.
Listen, what do you know of…’ he began uncertainly, but then he decided not to
go and make an even bigger fool of himself. ‘You know what, missy? I think it is high
time you went to bed. I know, I know, it’s dark and gloomy, but that’s life, you know?
Come on now, I’ll be on this one, and you’ll take that one. Just let me get my
records… oh, sorry.’ A grim mechanical melody could be heard buzzing through the
room. ‘It’s my phone, one second. Yes?’
Cocaine got bored and decided to read some satanic incantations from the
grimoire out loud. It was rubbish.
‘Hello? Oh, Adam, thank goodness. Where the hell are you? It’s quite loud, I
can’t hear you… What? Tomorrow? No, we can’t record tomorrow, I’m busy.
Something came up… no, it’s not anything illegal. No. Don’t worry. A girl? No, no…
I still love… yeah, I know. I know I must move on. Yes, this is about a girl, but… no,
it’s not what you think, there was a little girl at my doorstep, and her parents are
deceased, and… What, no, of course I didn’t! No, she’s fine. Yes, she’s underage.
What… no! She’s ten, or eleven, for goodness’ sake? Huh? What? Name? No, I don’t
think you could find anything about… She has none. Well, Cocaine. Yeah. Yeah.
That’s what I call her. It’s a little girl… No, the police have nothing to do with it.
Dammit, Adam, this isn’t about drugs! No… no… yes, I got rid of it. Not to worry.
No, this is just a name. No. Yes, Cocaine is in my room right now. Yes, I got rid of it!
No, this is the name of a girl.’ Jeremy was rambling on and on in the speaker. ‘No, I
am not talking about the cocaine fairy. No, I haven’t been drinking… okay, I have, but
just a little… there is a girl in my house, okay? I’m just going to get her to bed… no,
she is just a child… No… Adam… wait, Adam… I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?
Adam? Adam!’
The rockstar sighed. Cocaine was trying to spot a demon in the room, but there
just weren’t any. Those summoning spells were just no good.
‘Great,’ Jeremy Fisherman groaned, ‘now he’ll think I’ve completely lost it. Or,
better yet, he’ll bring the police over. No… he wouldn’t… he’s my friend… oh, to hell
with him, I don’t give a damn. Listen, we’d better go to bed, because I’ve got a really
bad day tomorrow, I am really tired, and you should be too…’

90
 ‘I want a fairytale,’ Cocaine insisted, ignorant of Jeremy’s obligations and legal
problems. ‘And a good one, if I am going to sleep in the dark.’
‘Aren’t you a little old for fairytales?’
‘Aren’t you a little young to live in a coffin?’
Jeremy gave up. She sure had a lot to say, that Cocaine. And she was hinting at
flaws in his ways that he couldn’t or didn’t want to correct, and either way he was
frequently judged for. She was a little too young to make him feel uncomfortable on
purpose. The plain truth was that most children didn’t like the dark and the horrible.
He had to live with that for now. Just until the world changed to his liking.
‘I’m not as young as you think I am, kid,’ he growled like a very grumpy child
himself.
‘How old are you, then?’
There she goes again, Jeremy thought. More questions.
‘Forty-two, if you must know,’ he replied irritably.
‘Whoah,’ Cocaine agreed. ‘That’s really old. No wonder you are so sour.’
‘It’s not that old!’
‘It is. I’d be sour too if I stayed at home all day.’
‘I don’t stay at home all day. I have a job, you know. I’m a singer.’
‘Aren’t you too old to still be working?’
‘No!’
‘Then prove it. Sing me a song if you’re not going to read me a fairytale.’
Jeremy blushed. He felt a little like the very first time he sang on stage. He’d
received a semi-kiss from a stranger then, and a little more than that from another
stranger, but he’d been way too drunk to remember it all. Those were the good days.
‘Alright,’ he plucked up the courage to grant the wish of his small audience, ‘I’ll
sing something to you, then. This is from my latest album. It’s called “Flames Engulf
Us.”
He sang, or gather, he growled sadly at her for about two minutes. It was one of
the best songs in the album. The video to it was particularly shocking, and his fans
truly loved it.
Cocaine passionately disapproved of the song, and it enraged the performer even
more.
‘I don’t know,’ she said softly, ‘it sounds like you are lying when you’re
singing.’
‘What?’ Jeremy completely lost his temper. ‘Lying? I always put my deepest,
most sincere feelings in my songs!’
‘I still think you’re lying,’ Cocaine shrugged destructively. ‘It sounds like it.
Who was the song written about?’
‘I beg your pardon, annoying nosy young lady?’
‘In the song, you say “all of you” a lot of times. Who are they?’
‘It’s… the people who made me sad.’
‘Well,’ the girl expressed her expert opinion on song-writing, ‘you speak to the
people who made you sad, and you sing that they will pay for what they did to you.
But, when I listen to you sing it, it sounds like they won’t really pay for it. It sounds
sad, and desperate, and it makes me feel sad about you. It sounds like you are most
probably going to stay in your dark room, cry for a long time about what they did to

91
you, eat frozen food from your fridge, and then cry some more. Why would anyone
want to hear something that will make them feel sorry for you?’
Jeremy’s nervous system was no longer trying to function properly. He wasn’t
angry anymore – he had run out of anger for tonight, – but he felt like he was about to
cry even now. It was a good thing the room was dark enough, so that the little girl
wouldn’t see his face.
‘Well… they don’t listen to these songs for that, my fans. And yes, I do have lots
of them. But they don’t listen to such songs to feel sorry for me… usually, they
connect the songs to themselves.’
‘Why? Do they live in rooms covered with horrible words and pictures and no
windows in them?’ Cocaine’s irony was merciless. ‘If not, they shouldn’t feel sorry for
themselves. They can’t be more miserable than you, living in this horrible room.’
Jeremy Fisherman covered himself thoughtfully with the black satin sheets,
coughed lightly, and didn’t speak out for more than a minute. He couldn’t think of a
moment in his life in which he’d felt more embarrassed – and he’d done many
embarrassing things. But secretly crying in the same room with a ten-year-old took the
cake.
It was then that a part of Jeremy realized that it could never part with Cocaine, or
give her to parents who didn’t know what an obnoxious yet brilliant child they’d be
dealing with. Soon enough, when it felt ready, it would share the information with the
rest of him.
‘What I think,’ she continued, apparently failing to notice his emotional
condition, ‘is that you should change something about the song. Or make it sound like
it is true. That’s what I think. I think you haven’t heard a really good song. I’ll sing it
to you, if you like.’
‘Sure,’ Jeremy responded hollowly from underneath the sheet, ‘whatever you
want. Which one is it,’ he added in a steely voice, “Barbie Girl”?’
‘No.’ The little girl covered herself up as well, gave out an adorable little cough,
and sang:

“Once there was a silly old ram,

Thought he’d punch a hole in a dam;
No one could make that ram
Scram –
He kept butting that dam.
‘Cause he had
High hopes,
He had
High hopes,
He had
High apple pie in the sky…”

‘Enough, enough, I get the idea,’ Jeremy stopped her quickly, laughing at the
thought of this simple song comparing to any of his. ‘I know the song. Everybody
does. And you sang it very well. You have changed my view on music forever.’

92
 ‘I was hoping to,’ Cocaine replied cheerfully. ‘You are just like the ram in the
song.’
‘Oh, really? And how am I like the ram in the song? I’m stubborn?’
‘Well, yes. You keep on trying to do something that seems impossible, but you
don’t stop even if everyone else can see that it can’t be done. It seems to me that’s why
you keep on being a singer even though you are too old for it and you lie in your
songs. And you keep on living in this terrible room even though anyone knows you
can’t live in it forever. Maybe your work requires it. I don’t know.’
‘There’s a word for it, it’s called persistence,’ Jeremy corrected her.
‘No, you’re just stubborn. Like the ram. That’s why you do whatever it is you’re
doing. I’ve never seen a man as old as you who is as stubborn as you. You’re so
stubborn you wouldn’t even admit you’re wrong when you are. You are a liar, too.’
‘I’m not a liar,’ Jeremy Fisherman defended himself. ‘And I’m not stubborn.’
‘Yes you are.’
‘No I’m not.’
‘Yes you are.’
‘No, I am not.’
‘You’re very stubborn.’
‘No, I am not stubborn at all!’
Jeremy realized he had proven himself wrong. He had, at last, made a complete,
outstanding fool of himself in front of a curious little girl.
On the other hand, before himself, he could not deny that he was stubborn. Or, at
least, he had been stubborn when he was young, more than he was now. He had built
his entire career solely on his own stubbornness. He wanted to get back at the world
for making him what he was, and he tried, for years, to punch a hole in the system,
using nothing but his aggression and his stubborn head of a dreamer filled with high
hopes and rebellious ideas, and he punched and punched until he bled, but he finally
made a difference. Now, none of that made a difference to him, and he wished he’d
had a little bit of the same angry mindless determination that had made him someone
in the eyes of the world. If he still had it, perhaps his recent songs wouldn’t sound like
lies. Not that he believed the girl, of course. He was still stubborn enough to impose
the will not to admit it on himself.
“So anytime you’re feeling bad, ‘stead of feeling sad, just remember that ram…”
the girl sang on and on, regardless of her – and, most of all, Jeremy’s – need for sleep.
‘Oh, please, shut up and let me sleep. I’ll have higher hopes tomorrow.’
‘Good night, Jay,’ the girl responded obediently.
Jeremy smiled. It had been a long time since anyone had called him by his high
school nickname. It was refreshing. He still hadn’t dyed his hair back then. He had
been such a fool…
On the bed opposite his, the little girl named Cocaine thought heavy, mature
thoughts. It had been a good night. Jay was not really as bad as he seemed at first, once
you saw through his terrible make-up. For a brief moment, things had begun to feel
like in the old days again. But they weren’t supposed to, the girl reminded herself.
There could be no distractions. In any case, he would never really understand. Or give
a damn. Once this was over, it was straight back home. Any interior was better than
the one in this room, anyway.

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 Cocaine found it hard to fall asleep at first, so she counted rams head-butting
dams. One ram… two rams… three rams…
That third one seemed to have really high hopes…

***

There was no sign of Leonard’s drunkenness merely a minute after we’d started
running. The moment we heard the scream, his face went pale and wicked, and I knew
there was only one thought on his mind: Liz. We rushed into the mansion, tripping and
falling, and standing up again, Leonard far ahead of me, a beast threatened, terrified
and mad. He crashed the door of the living room open, I followed him in as quickly as
I could, and I gasped in horror at the first thing that I caught in my sight: Huckleberry,
spread lifeless on the floor, gushing blood in thick streams from his chest, Elizabeth
crying inconsolably in the corner, and broken chairs, smashed tables and couches
turned over scattered all over the room. I ran to the wounded Huckleberry, casting a
hopeless look at Elizabeth. Leonard, however, took no notice of either of them, it
seemed. The first thing he saw, not with the useless eyes of a witness, but with the
bloodshot eyes of a hunter, was not that.
It was a cloaked black figure trying to step out of the room through the window,
holding a shimmering dagger in a gloved hand.
Leonard leapt straight at the attacker.
Merely a second later, the two were a fierce tangled mass, trying to pin each
other on the floor, tearing at each other’s skin, biting deeply on each other’s necks, not
two men, but two monsters, not fighting to survive, to maim or to avenge, but to kill.
Whatever furniture had been left intact after the break-in, they destroyed it. They
threw each other around like puppets, they bit each other like rabid dogs, and they left
Elizabeth and me screaming in panic, and Huckleberry bleeding aloof on the floor. It
was pointless to join in; they were too quick, too strong, too dangerous, too maddened
and blinded by fury. They fought like they had been doing it since the dawn of time,
and as much as Leonard was an old, vicious, merciless creature, it seemed that his
black-clad, bat-like opponent was way too good and precise a fighter, and he had the
advantage that his mind was clearer because he had no one to mourn, avenge or
protect, just a purpose cold as steel in his cold steel mind. As soon as I saw where this
was going, I abandoned all attempts to help dying Huckleberry and sprang to Leonard
and his enemy, but missed them by an inch and fell hard by the wall. When I managed
to rise and turn to see them, the violent stranger had pressed him against the opposite
wall, about to slit Leonard’s throat with the same glistening silver dagger that he’d
most probably used on Huckleberry. I felt something in me preparing to die as I
witnessed it. Breathless, horrified and helpless, I ran towards them, but I knew I’d
never get there in time, and even if I did, there wouldn’t be anything that I’d be able to
do…
‘No! Please!’ I screamed in a fit of despair, ready to mourn two friends on the
night of Halloween, which I would nevermore celebrate…
And then something unbelievable happened. The stranger left his job on
Leonard’s throat halfway finished, looked at me distractedly from behind his collar,
stopped performing his crime immediately, and dropped coughing Leonard on the

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floor, as though he was a rag doll. Then, the tall dark figure took the distance from one
end of the room to the window in two long leaps, lightly and gracefully, like a cheetah,
and vanished through the window in an instant.
Leonard crawled to his knees without further delay.
‘Forget about him!’ he yelled. ‘Forget about me! Help Huck!’
‘But I don’t know how!’ I cried desperately, shaking all over, trying to get Huck
to come to his senses, but it was all in vain. His body was twisting in heavy
convulsions on the floor, and the puddle of blood he was lying in grew wider and
wider with every second wasted…
‘Drink! Let him drink! Not from you, you idiot! You’ll kill him! Liz, get Liz!’
The next few minutes were a nightmare to me, a nightmare that I didn’t even
want to assume had happened for real. I stood in the room watching a dying, bleeding
man drink blood off the wrist of a two-year old girl until she passed out, and another
man, also bleeding, shaking and crying, watching the blood of his only daughter being
drained by his best friend to save his life. It wasn’t just torment; it was hell.
Once you had seen this, you could never see vampires in the same way again.
They were nothing like people. They were damned creatures, and in their
damnation they found the strength for sacrifice no man could ever conceive.
Until that night, I had thought with great certainty that I wouldn’t cry again until
the end of my visit.
I had thought wrong.

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 Chapter Ten
Maneatman

It was a new dawn, figuratively speaking. It was a hard dawn for us all.
‘I’m going to fuck up that son of a bitch,’ Leonard was muttering to himself,
walking the demolished living room back and forth. ‘I will be forced to kill him,
eventually, but prior to that I will definitely fuck him up.’
His neck was scarlet where the dagger had penetrated it. The vampire didn’t care.
It would be gone in a day. His rage wouldn’t.
‘I’m so very, very sorry,’ Huck blamed himself, which was perfectly typical of
him. Likewise, I did the same. ‘About everything… about Liz… About letting that
vampire take me by surprise… I could have fought him, I would have, but he stabbed
me as soon as I saw him… I’m so sorry, Leslie…’
‘Don’t call me Leslie,’ Leonard growled morbidly, and continued to pace in a
murderous circle. ‘That pathetic excuse for a killer is going to be calling me Leslie,
he’s going to be calling me whatever I ask him to, actually, when I am done feeding
him his own liver.’ His eyes seemed nearly white with fury, and his face was frozen in
a heartless expression, every muscle on it clenched, alert and eager to kill. ‘He breaks
into my house. He makes a mess of the entire living room. He destroys priceless relics
and works of art. He tries to kill my best friend, and nearly succeeds. He traumatizes
my daughter for life. He tries to kill me. He gets away with it. He forces me to
traumatize my daughter even further by getting my best dying friend to drink from her
to survive. Now that’s what I call rude. How are you, Huck, by the way? Breathing
getting any better? I’m fine, in case anyone was wondering. Just peachy.’
Huck was lying on a bed made of rags and old clothes, his chest bound in bloody
bandages, breathing heavily and coughing up blood every hour or so. Still, he was
stable, and he didn’t seem concerned about his health. Vampires recovered a lot faster
than most people could imagine.
‘I’m better, Leonard, thank you for asking,’ he assured him weakly. ‘Give it three
days at the most. I’ll owe you one forever. Oh God, I’m so, so very sorry about what
happened…’
‘Shut up. I’m not in the mood to hear your moping now. Stop blaming yourself.
Let it go, it’s over.’ Leonard gave his friend a brief, passionless stare. ‘It’s the vendetta
we’ll have to think about, remember?’
‘No,’ Huckleberry disagreed in a hoarse voice. ‘What we need to consider first is
who this vampire was, what he was here for, and why he did what he did. Otherwise
we will have no idea about what needs to be done about him.’
Leonard snorted.
‘I have a very clear idea about what I’m going to do to him…’
‘Still,’ Huck interrupted, always the analyzing and rational one, ‘we ought to
know what we are dealing with here. He might come back before we’ve recovered.
Right now, we are still not capable of protecting everyone here. Be reasonable,
Leonard. Think about Liz. Think about us all. You’ll send us to slaughter if we set off
to kill him straight away, and we will all be doomed if you leave this house now,

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looking for him. Don’t be stupid,’ the weakened vampire implored him, ‘that’s not
who you are. Otherwise saving our lives last night would have been in vain.’
Leonard breathed exquisite fury through his flaring nostrils for a minute or two,
before he finally appeared compelled.
‘Fine,’ he snarled in agreement at last. ‘Tell us, then, genius. What do we know?’
‘First,’ Huck began as if he was reading his words from a textbook, ‘we know for
sure that he wasn’t after you. He broke into the living room when you and Wera were
out talking, therefore he didn’t plan on killing either of you. If he wanted something
from you, he could have taken Liz hostage,’ when he said that, Leonard’s face
squirmed in agony, ‘but he didn’t even notice her. As for me, you know me; I don’t
have many enemies… anymore. Personally, I think he tried to finish me off simply
because I got in his way. I think he was looking for something in the house. I mean,
he’s thrashed the entire place. He was looking for something.’
‘But nothing is missing,’ Leonard stated in wonder, when his rabid aggression
faded a little.
‘Then he didn’t find what he was looking for. It was obviously not a regular
material possession, or else he would have been satisfied with robbing us…’
‘All the same,’ the other vampire shrugged. ‘Things of such value were
destroyed. Most of all, my daughter’s happy childhood. I tried so hard! You won’t
believe the fairytales I’ve tried telling her last night! It won’t cover up for this, ever.
Blood. Guts. Death. Killing. I wanted to protect her from all of this…’
‘We understand your pain. But she will be fine. She might not even remember
this when she grows up,’ Huckleberry spoke soothingly to his friend. ‘What matters
the most now is to keep her safe. Better slightly traumatized that dead, after all…
sorry… Anyway, what I meant to say is, this vampire was searching for something.
Something very valuable to him…’
‘I’ll give him something valuable… I don’t have anything worth killing for here,
dammit,’ Leonard complained. ‘Nothing dark, powerful, or magical, or evil. I’m out of
the game, Huck, you know me. I’ve been out for years.’
‘…and that’s what makes me come to the conclusion that whatever he was trying
to obtain or retrieve was not something of yours,’ Huckleberry reflected. Then, he
sighed heavily and turned to me. I gasped, because I knew what he was about to say.
‘I’m very sorry to say this, Wera, but I’m thinking he was after that necklace you took
from Mr Downey, or whatever his name was, that night you went out with him, when
things got a little –’
I felt I deserved to die for bringing that wretched medallion to Leonard’s
mansion.
‘Oh, no… dammit, no… I’m so sorry… I don’t know what… this is all my
fault…’
‘Will you shut up already?’ bellowed Leonard over my pathetic apologies. ‘Stop
blaming yourselves, it’s pointless, annoying, and it makes us waste more time to
crucify that bastard! Go on, Huck – what do you know about the necklace?’
‘Nothing, I’m afraid,’ the vampire shrugged as much as he could in the tight
bandages. ‘I know it has something to do with the lunar cycles, judging by the symbol
on it. It doesn’t seem to have any occult power to me, but then again, I could be

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wrong. All I am sure of is that our hostile visitor last night had temporarily left it with
Downey for safe keeping and when he came back to collect it, he no longer had it…’
‘…meaning poor little Downey no longer has his head on, either,’ Leonard
derived the obvious conclusion. ‘Don’t feel bad about him, Wera, his head will have
company soon… and for God’s sake, please stop giving me that gloomy face! It’s all
going to be alright once I get on with settling my scores with this mother –’
‘Not necessarily,’ Huck disagreed gently. ‘Who knows who else might be behind
this? He found the approximate location of the pendant pretty easily, didn’t he? This
might mean the object does have some occult significance about it, or maybe is
somehow spiritually connected with its owner...’
‘Not necessarily,’ Leonard mimicked his friend, and quickly explained: ‘He
could have just asked Downey who took it. He seems like the talkative kind of guy.
Especially under a little bit of influence. He could have sniffed Wera out like nothing,
then. There aren’t that many werewolves or no-turners around here. Besides, she might
be very much of a yes-turner in certain circumstances…’
‘No, you don’t get it,’ Huckleberry persisted. ‘If he was following Wera’s scent,
he would have gone straight for her. Obviously, he felt the presence of the pendant in
the house.’
‘But I was wearing it last night,’ I pointed out insecurely. ‘Why he was looking
for it in the house, then?’
‘It might have had some sort of specific energy it emanates only when it lingers
at a certain location…’
‘Damn,’ cursed Leonard. He was doing it a lot today. He would hardly curse for
anything. ‘This means he saw it on you. Now he knows all he needs. Damn.’
‘True, but then why didn’t he go straight for me when he saw it?’ I ventured to
express my doubts. ‘And why didn’t he kill you when I shouted at him? I don’t mean
he should have done it, of course… but he seemed very prepared to do it until I told
him not to…’
‘It might be the pendant,’ Huck suggested. ‘It might give the wearer a special
power over vampires, or…’
‘Not very likely. She was wearing it when she told me to get back inside because
I was too drunk and it was raining, and I didn’t listen to her anyway.’
‘You should have,’ Huck sighed. ‘Hmm… maybe it only has influence on the
owner…’
‘That doesn’t make any sense. He’s the one who should have control over it,
since he is the owner.’ Leonard rolled his eyes impatiently. ‘It’s all very simple, really:
you said “please”, Wera, the magic word, and he suddenly decided I wasn’t worth
breaking the code for.’
‘Now you’re being ridiculous,’ Huck said hollowly.
‘One thing’s for sure,’ I interfered in a gravely voice, ‘we have to get rid of the
pendant.’
Leonard jumped as though he had been stung by a bee, and then he stared at me
as though I had completely lost it.
‘Are you out of your mind?’ he yelled. ‘You’re going to get rid of our only clue,
the only thing that might lead us to this mysterious bastard which I would very much
like to hunt down and kill? This is ridiculous. We’ll relocate, if we must, all of us.

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We’ll read every book if we must. We’ll go to Huck’s place and ravish his library. I
don’t care. We’ll get that worthless sucker. He’s dead meat. I will not deprive myself
of this pleasure.’

***

The next morning Jeremy Fisherman left for the “Freakbreak Records” studio in
a remarkably good mood. He felt fresher than he had in a long time, and he could
barely feel the years knocking on his door. Prior to leaving he took a shower, dressed
himself in his most tasteless black leather jacket and put on the most revolting make-
up he could muster. He started seeing his old self in the mirror again.
Jeremy examined the graying ginger roots of his thinning black hair in front of
the bathroom mirror, eyeing them with criticism at first, but later on with acceptance.
He decided not to re-dye them today, even though it was a big day. Jeremy had always
tried to be something other than himself; nearly all his life he had been anything but
himself, and the farther away he got from his true self, the better he liked himself.
Today, for the first time in years, Jeremy saw, in the bathroom mirror, how far his own
self-loathing had taken him from himself. But, starting today, he thought to himself, it
wouldn’t be the same anymore. Something about Cocaine’s words from the previous
night had made him think about the things he’d been running from for the past few
years and had inspired him to stop running away. He would be what he had once
aspired to be, before he had gotten too old to be it again.
He had found it to be a good idea to bring Cocaine along just so he could show
her what he could really do with a microphone in hand. Adam Fowler, his manager
and former schoolmate, was waiting for Jeremy at the entrance of the studio, and was
more than a little stunned to see the rockstar at his best, hand in hand with a, what, ten,
eleven-year-old.
‘They keep getting younger and younger,’ Adam made a tasteless sarcastic
comment when he spotted Jeremy and his young companion from across the street.
‘So, it was true, what you said on the phone last night.’
‘Cocaine, this is Adam, we went to school together,’ Jeremy introduced them
politely, beaming inexplicably. ‘Adam, this is Cocaine. She’s searching for a mommy
and daddy.’
‘Cocaine,’ Adam’s face reluctantly allowed a disturbed, crooked grin to slide
across it. ‘Charming. Come on, let’s get inside. You’ll tell me all about her before we
start.’
Adam Fowler was the typical rich handsome man in a suit. Ever since they’d
been best friends in school with Jeremy, Adam was forecast with success. Out of the
two, he’d always been the more popular one, the more studious one, the more
responsible one, the more talented one, the better built one – while Jeremy was not
much more than skin and bones in high school and his anatomy didn’t change much
throughout the next twenty-five years, either. Jeremy then discovered a talent of his in
which vigor had a say much more than music, and Adam left the position of a best
friend and occupied that of a band manager instead. He had an understanding of
success Jeremy would never possess; Jeremy only became involved with rock ‘n’ roll

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because he believed in its idea. Jeremy was a dreamer and a rebel, and Adam always
cleaned up his every mess and tried not to let Jeremy’s existential depressions ruin his
social life. His job hadn’t changed much over the years.
But they were no longer friends, because all Jeremy cared about was still the
idea, and all Adam cared about was the money and the opinions of the important
people. Adam feared that Jeremy would gamble away his image in the music industry,
and Jeremy was disgusted by Adam’s materialism.
That’s why Adam never called Jeremy “Jay” anymore and never cared about his
private life unless it threatened to become public. All he cared about was that Jeremy
made music that sold and got them invited to parties, and that was all he was here to
check on. But this time he was taken by surprise. Adam complimented Jeremy’s hair –
ironically, of course – and asked to have a word with him in private.
‘So,’ the manager began when Cocaine was far enough not to hear them, ‘are you
ready to record today?’
Jeremy nodded.
‘Absolutely. I haven’t felt this much in the mood for music in ages.’
‘That’s great to hear. So, Jeremy, I don’t mean to pry, but what’s the deal with
this girl?’
‘Well, it all happened really suddenly, Adam. She arrived at my doorstep last
night. Just rang the doorbell, all alone in the rain, lost and soaked.’
‘What? She just went to your house and rang the bell? That’s impossible!’
‘I know, isn’t it weird? So, I take pity on her, what with her scar and everything,
see, I take her in for the night – she’s just a kid, after all, and the next thing you know,
she says her parents are dead, she’s got no name and she wants me to be her mommy
and daddy. Then, she asks me to name her after the cocaine on my shelf…’
‘Dammit, Jeremy, I told you to get rid of that stuff!’ the rockstar’s manager burst
out in anger. ‘Don’t you ever listen to me? What if the media finds out – or, better yet,
the police? You won’t be invincible forever, you know!’
‘Alright, I will, but you’re missing the point… So, I take her in, you see, I give
her clothes to sleep in and everything, I make her dinner – ’
‘– in the microwave…’
‘…yes, and then that little lady gives me the best damn psychological analysis on
my personality I’ve heard from anyone her age! You should hear her speak. She
always wants to figure you out, always asks the toughest questions to answer… She’s
amazing…’ Jeremy looked genuinely excited. Adam responded with a sour grin. Then,
the rockstar leaned towards his ex best friend and muttered quietly in his ear:
‘To tell you the truth, Adam, I really like her. I mean, really, she makes me mad,
but in a good way. You should have been there, we sang to each other and everything,
and I thought… I thought, well, why don’t I be her mommy and daddy? I mean, for
real. It’s perfect, she’s got no past, no name, no parents, nothing… and I’ll be better, I
really will, and I was thinking, hey, I’m old and rich enough for this, and I’m tired of
someone living with me temporarily, and I’m tired of marrying women… So why
don’t I spend the next ten years of my life taking care of a girl I won’t have to sleep
with? How about it, Adam, isn’t it brilliant?’
As happy as Jeremy seemed to be with himself, Adam looked outraged.

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 ‘Jeremy,’ he began sternly, and then he switched straight onto snapping. ‘Are
you insane? Look at yourself! Look at your personality, look at your make-up, look at
your life! First of all, the media would destroy us for this, second, you’re not morally
capable of raising a child, and third, you just can’t! Did you forget who you are?!
You’re Frankie! You make music for children who are a product of bad parenting!
You’ve made teens betray their families! You’re a terrible influence on the kids! You
make them start having unsafe sex, take drugs, think about society and all kinds of
other bad things!’
‘Yes, I know,’ Jeremy lowered his head in embarrassment, ‘but it’s not going to
be the same with her… I swear I’ll make sure she becomes a good girl, with a good
life. I won’t raise her like I’ve raised half of my fans…’
‘But you’ll be expected to!’ Adam stifled a shrill shriek only by the power of his
manners in society. ‘You do this, Jeremy, and your career is over. You can’t sweep up
a girl named Cocaine from the street and show up on TV as the reformed good daddy.
No drugs, no sex, no evil – no money! And I won’t let you drag me down with you!’
There was a minute of hostile silence, in which Adam was trying to think up
more arguments in favor of the prohibition of Cocaine’s adoption. During that minute,
however, Jeremy was thinking of lost kids and outcast children, black sheep and black
rams, the things Cocaine had said to him and the promise he’d made himself to be
what he wanted to be…
Jeremy stood up slowly, cast a friendly glance at Adam, followed by a friendly
smile, and spoke to him softly:
‘Watch me.’
Then, he headed for the other side of the studio, picking up Cocaine, who had
waited for him patiently there.
‘Okay, fellas,’ he shouted energetically, ‘are we ready to record? I know I am.’
The men in the studio were trying to agree on something, but stopped arguing
when he spoke, and redirected their attention towards the setting – but not quite set yet
– star.
‘Um… okay, Mr Frankie, how about we warm up with something recent…
something touching, something heartbreaking… something like “Flames Engulf Us”?’
‘I’d rather not,’ Jeremy objected cheerfully. ‘If you don’t mind, I’ll suggest
something old to start with. Let it be “Break You”. It’s an old favorite of mine. Kids
back in the day used to love it. Today, I’ll dedicate my performance of it to my
devoted manager Adam Fowler.’
Jeremy Fisherman grabbed the microphone confidently, threw his hair back,
grinned a vicious grin, and as he recalled the familiar tune in his head, he felt young
and rebellious again, and when he sang, he sang about the greedy, heartless bastards in
the world like Adam Fowler and how they were going to pay, and this time, before
Cocaine and before himself, he knew that he wasn’t lying…
For the first time in years everyone in the studio was really impressed and
clapped – except for Adam Fowler – solely to the thrill of the performance. The voice
that had come out of Jeremy’s throat was so fiery, so passionate, so victorious, so
disobedient, so self-assured, hair-raising and rebellious that it could make the guitar
with the best rock ‘n’ roll sound in the world curl up and start whimpering miserably
in a corner, and develop serious confidence issues as a result. Jeremy was brilliant

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throughout the whole day, Cocaine approved of his vigor and sincerity, and even
Adam was glad to see his former friend was back in the business, recording an album
re-issuing the old year 2000 hit “Break You” as a bonus track. When they called it a
day and Adam came to congratulate Jeremy on the job well done, Jeremy smiled
kindly, gave Adam one of his favorite fingers and told him to go do indecent things
with himself.
‘That went well,’ Cocaine praised him on their way back to Jeremy’s place. ‘He
doesn’t look like a good man, that Adam guy.’
‘I know, Cocaine. I should have figured it out years ago.’
‘Why are we going back to your horrible room again, Jay? Aren’t we going to
look for a mommy and a daddy? I could use a parent, you know.’
Jeremy smiled.
‘Don’t worry, Cocaine,’ he reassured her mildly. ‘I believe we will find you one
very soon.’
From that day on, the parent question was put on hold, and Jeremy found an
excuse after an excuse to let Cocaine stay with him another day for the next few
weeks, which felt like months to him, maybe even years. He began, unconsciously,
caring for her like she was his own. And, to his own surprise, they got along. She had
the best of times mocking his morbid habits, and he had the best of times being
ridiculed by her. Soon enough, he couldn’t live without it, and Cocaine the girl quickly
replaced regular cocaine as a drug in his life. Misery was draining away from Jeremy’s
memory at an incredible speed with every moment spent with the bright little girl. She
inspired him to go out more often and mourn his old relationships less, he taught her to
paint with watercolors, and she taught him to sing without lying once again. Jeremy’s
life improved in every way, including morally, and Cocaine confessed she’d never
been happier in her life. She felt loved, and loved she was indeed. Every night, Jeremy
read her fairytales he wound compose himself based on the texts in his demon-
summoning books, and vicious horned servants of the Devil came to life in his twisted
imagination next to fluffy bunnies and cartoon characters, and together they build
houses of candy or placed curses upon Jeremy himself which would hopefully turn his
horrible room pink. Jeremy couldn’t imagine raising a child any better in his own way,
and couldn’t deny she was raising him as well, and he felt like a child beside her once
too often. For both of them, it was heaven.
Towards the end of their second week together she was already sleeping in his
bed, cuddled next to him, and he was reading her the children’s adaptation of “The
Seven Trials Of Satan” as a fairytale goodnight. Cocaine showed signs that she was
going to fall asleep somewhere between trial six and seven; she was that comfortable
beside Jeremy, and his grating melancholic voice was putting her to sleep. She was
already in the state between dream and reality, where everything felt real and unreal at
the same time.
‘You never told me,’ Jeremy said softly, closing the book between chapter six
and seven, as he’d predicted, ‘where you got that scar. I know your favorite color is
red, I know your birthday is on the seventh of July, but I know nothing about how you
got that scar. Was it something scary? It looks like it was pretty painful.’
‘No,’ Cocaine replied dreamily. ‘No, not really. Don’t worry, I’m fine.’

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 ‘Then why won’t you tell me? Are you ashamed of it? You know, I could pay for
you to have it removed, and then you won’t have a scar anymore, how about that?
Although,’ the man added with a sentimental smile on his face, ‘I’d miss it, to be
honest. It’s where your charm lies. It’s what makes you different.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Cocaine repeated soothingly, sinking into the peaceful blur of
dreams, ‘I wouldn’t want it removed, anyway. I’d like to keep it there, to remind me of
you.’
Jeremy Fisherman was more flattered than he was puzzled.
‘Of me?’ he asked with increasing interest. ‘How come? You had it before we
met, didn’t you?’
Cocaine smiled an adorable affectionate smile. When she spoke again, she was
nearly asleep.
‘I remember it all too well,’ the little girl said slowly. ‘It was back in primary
school, seventh grade, I think… I was a mess and you still had short hair… hadn’t
even thought of dying it black… You were out in the school yard, I think, you and
Adam, and I was on the other side trying to climb over the fence, because Murdock
and his gang had come to pick on you again… You know how they bullied you, you
more than Adam, of course… and… I wanted to stand up for you… someone had to
do it… so I tried to climb over the fence, and I fell… And there was this glass they
kept just next to it, to repair the windows of the chemistry cabinet… I jammed my face
right into it… And still… I wouldn’t want to get rid of the scar… it is the only thing I
have on me that… is somewhat… connected to you.’
Then, Jeremy lost the strange girl to the realm of dreams.
When he finally reduced his shaking to the point where he could go to bed
himself, Jeremy’s head was brimming with questions. What the hell had just
happened? Had he heard everything right? Who was Cocaine, really, where did she
come from and how did she know his childhood in details when she hadn’t even been
born at the time? Sure, he could have spoken about Murdock’s gang in interviews
years ago, but he’d never mentioned names… and even if he had, how did she know
who they’d bullied more, Adam or him, or about the repair work on the windows of
the chemistry cabinet, which he himself had broken in a fit of rage, and then Adam had
to excuse him in front of the teachers, as usual? What was Cocaine’s secret?
And when Jeremy sank into an unsteady dream at last, he dreamed of a school
yard, and a bench on which he was sitting, all grown-up, in the middle of the night, in
a faded red T-shirt saying “Does This Color Make Me Look Sexy?”, and out of
nowhere a tall, thin, dark-haired woman approached him. She was wearing a white T-
shirt with a picture of a tree on it that seemed somewhat familiar, and a Christian
crucifix around her neck, and had a scar on the cheek as wide as his finger… and when
she reached him, she took off the crucifix and started kissing him vigorously on the
lips, and he yielded gladly, intoxicated by the taste of her pale lips and the feel of her
firm skin, and he couldn’t get enough, he felt hungry, thirsty, and vulnerable… and
then he recognized the woman’s brown eyes and everything went to hell…
Jeremy woke up, sweating, disheveled and horrified. He was a professional hater,
but Cocaine was the one thing in the world he could never grow to hate. Still, he was
pretty good at hating himself, and that what exactly what he practiced doing for a few
hours against the mirror, after taking a cold shower at two a.m. He growled, spat, cried

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and swore at the mirror for hours and hours, before realizing that this had only been a
dream and had nothing to do with the way things were in reality.
After two more hours, Jeremy looked at his tired, terrified reflection with relief.
He knew himself and he knew his worst sides. He was many kinds of monsters, but not
this one. It was just his subconscience playing the role of Adam, trying to trick him out
of his plan to adopt the girl he loved the most. After all, it wasn’t like Cocaine was
possessed by the Devil. There could be nothing wrong with keeping her close to him.
In fact, Jeremy sometimes felt as if destiny had chosen him – for reasons beyond his
understanding – to be her very own guardian angel.

***

‘Two weeks, and still nobody has tried to kill us,’ Huckleberry rejoiced one
beautiful dark November morning.
‘Two weeks, and we still haven’t killed anybody,’ Leonard complained, just to
add some spite to everyone’s cheerful spirit. ‘Come on, am I the only one who thinks
straight here? Don’t you think he deserves it?’
‘Yes, but there’s nothing we can do,’ I attempted to appease him. It was
pointless. It was like trying to appease a starving lion.
Currently, we were staying at Huck’s place, just in case. His apartment was
modest and tidy, and was filled mainly with two things: charts and books. Leonard was
infuriated by the mere look of it. It didn’t even have gargoyles.
‘It seems Liz is the only one who likes it here, and she likes everything,’ the
blond vampire protested indignantly. ‘This place is so boring! We have to just sit here
and wait and hide all day, without an ounce of style! I mean, what are we? Are we
men, or are we mice?’
‘We’re vampires in danger,’ Huckleberry reminded him. ‘Plus two ladies.’
‘Oh, why don’t you just say it already!’ Leonard snapped at Huck for no apparent
reason, and strode with deliberate sourness out of the room we were sharing.
Huck blinked at the slamming door in sincere bewilderment.
‘Say what?’ he asked, puzzled and offended. ‘What am I supposed to say?’
I shrugged.
‘Beats me,’ I replied evenly. ‘He’s just mad because he gets to wait until he
wreaks vengeance upon his new mortal enemy. Don’t feel guilty about it.’
‘Yeah,’ Huckleberry agreed. ‘It’ll pass. Probably. Hopefully, it’ll be soon. I don’t
think I can afford to buy a new door.’

***

That day, Jeremy Fisherman received a very important phone call, and he was
happy, nervous and impatient all day. There was a skip in his step. He was definitely
enjoying everything going his way since he’d stepped onto the right path.
‘I want you to wait here for me to return and be good,’ he asked Cocaine around
seven in the evening, while he was getting dressed. ‘You can have anything you want
from the fridge, nothing from the shelves, got it? I’ll be an hour, and then we’ll go to a
restaurant for dinner. I have a surprise for you today. You’ll love it.’

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 He kissed her gently on the forehead. She beamed.
When Jeremy walked out, Cocaine sat on the couch in his room, turned on the
radio, switching to the rock channel, hoping to hear one of his most recent hits, and
thought about her life, and how fortunate she was, and what she would have done if
she’d known, years ago, that things would turn out like this in the end.
Sometimes, even scarred little girls got a second chance.

***

The truth behind Cocaine was very simple. She wasn’t the little girl she
pretended to be. She wasn’t the cocaine fairy either, but this version was closer to the
truth, which Jeremy Fisherman didn’t have the slightest idea about.
Cocaine was in fact appointed to be Jeremy’s guardian angel, someone to give
him a second chance at being who he was intended to be. Frankie was behind all of
that, of course. And Cocaine’s mission had been accomplished. Jeremy Fisherman was
finally happy. There was nothing complicated about that.
The story about how Cocaine became an angel in the first place was the slightly
more complicated one.
Cocaine started her his life as Magnolia Wilder, which was a name too attractive
for a girl so plain. Her plain brown hair, neither long nor short, wasn’t much, her body
wasn’t much, her face wasn’t much, and her eyes nobody bothered to look at. She was
quiet, shy and uncommunicative; she went unnoticed through school and high school,
and that was why she never got an opportunity to get into the circles that practiced
most of the sins students usually began their lives of sinners with. Magnolia was never
proud, vain, or selfish: in fact, she made sure she helped anyone she could, even
strangers in the streets, with a heart wide open. She was pious, selfless, studious,
moral, virtuous, an environmentalist, and her family never ate meat. She believed in
God firmly and never dared defy him or be angry with him for the unbearable misery
her hollow life of a nameless, unremembered helper. This was how, incidentally, at
age twenty-one, Magnolia Wilder had not yet committed any significant sin and was
good, untainted and wretched through and through.
There was only one bit about Magnolia’s life that she liked, one side of her
empty, gloomy, pointless existence that made her feel something and meant something
to her, and that was Jeremy Fisherman. They’d studied at the same schools from the
fourth grade to graduation, although he had never really noticed her due to her
astonishing plainness. He, on the other hand, was a skinny, ginger, bespectacled boy,
not very popular either, but at least he had a few friends. Jeremy didn’t study as hard
as Magnolia did, but he was very smart, and although she didn’t talk to him, but just
observed him from afar, she could tell that there was something about him beyond his
sweet disposition and impressive intellect. He was dreamy, strange, rebellious,
tortured. Magnolia had been desperately in love with him ever since she remembered
seeing him. Jeremy, on the other hand, seemed to be focused on goals greater than love
– especially since high school. There, he let his hair grow long, developed a new
attitude towards the kids who picked on him, gave up wearing glasses and starting
hooking up with some older teens who were into metal music and the culture it went
hand in hand with, and who probably did drugs. Still, some said Jeremy – then known

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as simply Jay – had done it mostly for the music. Magnolia could not understand metal
music because she was not entirely familiar with it. Her family didn’t approve of
anything like that, anything that came from the Devil.
Of course, Magnolia suspected that not all metal music came from the Devil. But
soon enough Jay started sowing up at school covered in satanic pentagrams and other
undoubtedly wicked occult symbols. It was a phase, they all said. But right after high
school Jay started a rock band of his own, became famous, changed his name, dyed his
hair black and became a rockstar, not necessarily in that order.
Magnolia didn’t understand any of this. Still, she didn’t stop loving him for a
second. And, as soon as she graduated and no longer had the chance to see him and
watch him painfully from a distance, her life lost all meaning.
Until one memorable summer day when Jay and his band had their first serious
gig in town. Going to this gig without informing her parents was probably Magnolia’s
only sin, but it was really not a sin to her, for she knew she hadn’t gone to it for the
evil music. She had only gone to see Jay again.
She heavily contrasted the roaring black-clad crowd in the local club as she
squeezed forth through it in her white environmentalist T-shirt with a green tree on it.
She was still plain, although that was now mainly due to the scar she’d acquired during
an accident somewhat connected with Jeremy. But she didn’t care. All Magnolia
wanted was to see the one she loved before he left for another town on tour, possibly
never to return again.
And then the lights went on, the music started, and she saw him – shirtless,
skinny and wild on the stage, his hair now long and black, his face – in Magnolia’s
eyes – more handsome than ever. And yet, when she approached, she realized he was
severely inebriated – and possibly drugged, too. Magnolia was disgusted; this was not
the Jeremy she knew. Nevertheless, his performance was passionate and flawless.
Just as she was about to turn her back on the first row and leave disappointed,
someone grabbed her by the arm and pulled stunned Magnolia onto the stage. She
nearly fainted when she saw that the person smiling at her only a foot away from her
was Jeremy, tall, rocking and handsome. He announced the next song – it would be a
special love song – and wrapped his hand around Magnolia’s waist. She blushed.
‘Look at her,’ he yelled thrilled into the microphone, and the crowd went wild,
‘just look at this girl! She hasn’t done anything to fit in here. Not the clothes, not the
make-up – nothing. She’s real. Unlike half of you bastards.’ The mob in front of the
stage roared frantically again. People, for some reason, love it when their idols insult
them this way. ‘That’s the kind of girl I’d like to dedicate the next love song to. That’s
my dream girl. Someone who isn’t faking it. And look at her – she’s been through a
lot, I see,’ the rocker commented loudly and pressed Magnolia tighter to himself.
‘She’s a real rock ‘n’ roll girl!’
And then, in a fit of intoxicated idealistic romanticism, Jeremy Fisherman kissed
Magnolia Wilder on the lips, in the very best way a man could kiss a woman. The
crowd exploded in a storm of applause, and Jeremy started singing.
It was then and there that, for five minutes of her life, Magnolia Wilder felt like
she was truly living.
She stayed for the next song as well, which was preceded by a rebellious speech
criticizing the way society forced people to swallow every idea it tossed them, good or

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bad, and people devoured them impatiently even when they were trash, and they
therefore became what they ate, since they never could think and choose for
themselves. Magnolia was fascinated, feeling the spirit of rock ‘n’ roll flow through
her blood, setting it on fire. She screamed “You are what you eat” along with the rest
of the crowd for twenty minutes after the concert had ended, and stayed for a few more
minutes after the show was over.
It was in those minutes that Jeremy Fisherman was attacked by a girl in purple
with short blond hair and they engaged in noisy personal activities backstage.
Magnolia was crushed. She left the club as fast as she could. Her inexperienced
mind simply could neither grasp nor understand the happening.
But there was nothing to understand; it was just the way of Jeremy Fisherman,
which was also the way of most people. They thought right, they felt right, they
dreamed right, they were filled with good intentions, but when they had to make a
decision, they usually made the wrong one.
After graduation, Magnolia didn’t go to college or university. Instead, she started
working at a supermarket, remembering each time she sold a product the angry,
passionate slogan of Jeremy’s concert “You are what you eat”. Finally, six months
later, she couldn’t bear the agony of her existence any longer, and she headed home
with the intention of committing suicide. She would have instantly gone to hell
afterwards, but destiny had a strange kind of mercy on her and made it so that
Magnolia was hit by a car mere minutes before she’d reached her home, killed herself,
and spat on all of the efforts of her soul throughout her terrible lifetime.
So Magnolia became an angel in heaven, because morally she’d been absolutely
flawless in her lifetime, only to find out life in heaven was as tedious as the one on
Earth, but the pain felt duller, so it was not completely awful. Besides, as time passed,
you got used to it.
She still checked on Jeremy Fisherman every now and then, just to see how he
was doing, only to find him fornicating with one woman or another (or, sometimes,
two at a time) until she decided he was best left forgotten. Until the day she was forced
to become his guardian angel, given a new existence on Earth and the chance to be
loved – not just kissed – by Jeremy Fisherman, as a person dear to him he would never
forget.
At this point, Magnolia was willing to spend her second life in the role of his
child, because it was better than nothing, and better than heaven, and she had never
been so happy for such a long time before. So she waited for Jeremy patiently, until
eight-thirty, having the pleasant feeling in her gut that tonight he would offer her to be
her official father, and they would be together forever, and even though that was a
little too dishonest for her taste, Magnolia – now known as Cocaine – could tell a
second chance when she saw one.
Tonight, it was raining, like on the night Jeremy had taken her in.
The lock clinked and the door creaked open. Cocaine did not dare ruin everything
by going downstairs. She preferred to wait in Jeremy’s room instead. Her waiting
would be rewarded.
‘Cocaine?’ she soon heard Jeremy call out for her. ‘Come over here, dear,
downstairs! I have some great news for you.’

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 When Cocaine followed the voice to his owner and saw him, Jeremy was
beaming, possibly like never before in his life. He grinned widely at the girl and kissed
her. But there was something wrong; he was not alone.
A woman with honey red hair and face as sweet as candy approached Cocaine
and greeted her too. She was wearing a small, formal black dress. Cocaine restored her
initial grumpy expression from before her happy days and didn’t respond.
‘Oh, poor girl,’ the woman sighed compassionately. She was young, no more
than twenty-five. ‘What’s happened to her cheek? She does talk, doesn’t she?’
Cocaine’s look at that moment couldn’t kill or fry a person alive, but if it could,
it would.
‘Of course she does,’ Jeremy replied. ‘Usually, I can’t get her to shut up. She’s
wonderful, you’ll see. Cocaine, this is Paula. Paula, this is Cocaine. Cocaine, Paula is a
very good friend of mine,’ the rockstar explained kindly, and gave Paula a lusty tongue
kiss to confirm the statement. Cocaine was dumbstruck. ‘We were inseparable for
quite some time, and I love her very much. I’m sure you will too. We had some
problems, but she is back now, and we will be getting engaged. And here’s the surprise
for you, Cocaine: you will get to have both a mommy and a daddy after all! We will be
your mommy and daddy, Paula and I!’
Cocaine was wishing she could shatter Paula’s perfect grin to pieces. She and
Jeremy shared another juicy kiss. The hallway got significantly hotter, and so did the
skin of the little girl. At last, hot, relentless tears, tears held back for nearly twenty
years, rushed from Cocaine’s eyes, making the scar redden and grow hideous and
frightening.
Jeremy trembled.
‘Cocaine?’ he asked. ‘Darling? What’s the matter? Don’t you like Paula?’
There was a tense, fiery silence. And after the silence, when Cocaine spoke, it
was only her voice that was that of a little girl, but her tone cut like steel, and the
words she spoke out stabbed like jagged knives:
‘No,’ she yelled madly, wavering helplessly between fury and desperation.
‘Paula is fine! Paula is beautiful! It’s you I don’t like! Look at you! You piece of trash!
Treating me like you’re a changed man, but you are the same as you’ll always be! You
horrible, stupid, cheap, sick, slutty, depressed junkie! You’re pathetic, you know!
Your soul does not deserve salvation! There will be Paula, and there will be another,
and another, and another! And I am not going to spend my life watching this
freakshow! I want no mommy and no daddy, and I certainly don’t want you! “You are
what you eat”, you kept saying once! You devour human hearts on a daily basis
without any remorse, Jeremy Fisherman! You know what that makes you? A monster!
And the same goes for all of you,’ Cocaine pointed a shaking accusative finger at
Jeremy, Paula and the world in general, ‘all of you people, you’re monsters! Always
eating the hearts of the innocent… always devouring us like prey! Cannibals! Go to
hell, all of you!’
And Cocaine sprang wildly and rushed out of the front door with a loud slam,
thus ruining Jeremy’s plans for dinner. Paula was concerned, afraid and doubtful about
the sweetness of the sweet little girl she’d just met, and Jeremy, shaking, hurt, scared
and desperate, ran outside in the ice-cold rain to call for Cocaine to come back,
because right now all he wanted was to see her come back, and the rest didn’t matter…

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he’d change, he’d do anything, maybe – maybe he’d even ditch Paula… after all, she’d
been the inspiration for the mutilated woman in the painting, the one that had made
him cry, and Cocaine had never, ever made him cry, not in that mean way, never…
But as soon as he opened the door the crying, infuriated little girl had only just
slammed closed, she had vanished without a trace.
The rain was pouring ceaselessly all over Cocaine, drenching her from head to
toe, but she did not feel it, for she was burning, inside and outside, the way every angel
scorned did, and she ran mindlessly through the dimensions until there was not a
single living soul to be seen around. Lava surfaced underneath her every step. The
heavens themselves were ablaze, and the rain was turning into a storm. When she was
all alone, Cocaine sat miserably on the cold, wet ground, and wept without being able
to stop.
The sky roared and cried along with her moans and screams. Through gritted
teeth, she cursed Jeremy and Paula, and mankind, and the world.
‘People… people… you are a plague… and love… love is poison…’ She snarled
and cried, cried and snarled, whichever overpowered the other at the next moment.
‘You hunt… to kill… you pick on those who love you… You play with their hearts…
your prey... and then you devour them… You eat them whole… And every
remorseless heartbreaker eats his fellow man, and every innocent victim of love dies,
leaving nothing but bones to be buried. That’s how it is, that’s how it always will be,
until the world destroys itself!’ Cocaine’s eyes cast steely sparks and lit fires, and
glistened in red-hot, flaming orange. Tonight, the whole world would feel her agony.
‘Is this what You wanted?’ she raised her protest to the tearing skies. ‘Is this what You
created? Then watch it,’ she cursed, and that was not a curse to pass through the world
unheard or to be unspoken, ‘in all its wicked glory! “You are what you eat”, aren’t
you, people? All of you, who feed on the tears of the innocent… all of you, who feel
no remorse… feed on their flesh as well! You cannibals, you murderers… You are
what you ear,’ whispered the angel ominously, caught between the hissing rain and the
roaring flames. ‘And you will eat what you are.’

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 Chapter Eleven
Valerius

Most days start with an awakening. That’s how it is for most people. Some
days, however, start with a nightmare.
My day started with one.
Other people’s days, on the other hand, might begin with a shriek. That went for
Leonard and Huckleberry’s days, for instance. My screaming had made them both
jump to their feet, prepared to fight off a hoard of deranged monsters. They were
prepared to thwart deadly assaults at any given moment.
‘It’s okay,’ I assured them quickly, and they both stared at me in anger. ‘I’m
sorry, I just had a bad dream…’
‘You’re not the only one,’ Leonard groaned, heading back to bed annoyed. ‘I had
a dream that we were still here, not getting any revenge, packed in a single bedroom,
stuck at Huck’s place. Hey, wait a minute! I think I’m still dreaming!’
‘Leonard, for the last time… oh, forget it,’ Huck moaned, and turned to me with
an air of genuine concern. ‘What did you dream about?’
Leonard rolled his eyes. I didn’t mind, though, so I replied.
‘Well, it was very cold… I saw the world… our world, I mean, the human world.
But it seemed like some sort of an alternative universe had been imposed on it… I was
walking the street that leads to my house, which was frozen from beginning to end,
and there were these people following me. I was trying to escape them without
showing any signs that I’d noticed them, so that they wouldn’t run after me. And, I
mean, they looked like completely normal people, chatting and laughing, but still I
knew that they were out to… well, to eat me.’
‘Eat you?’ Leonard’s spark of interest was rekindled, and he turned lazily in the
bed towards me. ‘In the literal sense? Whoah. Psychologically speaking, this indicates
that you are a very disturbed person. But you already know that. It’s not unusual when
you communicate with guys who drink other people.’
‘No, these people were nothing like you,’ I explained tensely. ‘They weren’t
vampires, they were just… people. Not people in the sense of flesh-eating zombies.
Just normal people, like… well, not like me. But, in a word, regular folks who had
deliberately decided to track someone down and strip them of their flesh to the bone.’
‘Bothersome,’ commented Huck.
‘Interesting,’ grinned Leonard.
‘And it wasn’t just them,’ I continued. ‘I walked towards the hospital, for some
reason, you know, where the entrance to the dimension usually is, and there… you
know, there is that hill going downwards… But instead of this hill there was just an
enormous pit, you know… bigger than the entire street. And it was filled with frozen
cars, and bodies, and… and all of them were just sort of tangled in… in…’
‘In?’ Leonard the vampire urged me impatiently. He knew he was going to have
fun with the mental image I was drawing in his head.
‘In, well, guts,’ I frowned, and felt a little nauseous. ‘In something like a
monster’s saliva, and slime, and blood, and strings of flesh… It was really disgusting.

110
And it was all the people’s work. They’d just… been eating everything. And everyone.
And they’d made a buffet of their own, you know.’
‘Cool,’ Leonard exclaimed. I ignored him.
‘And just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, it turns out that this is
something that has affected the whole world. Not like an infection, but more like a
curse… Suddenly, there are man-eating people walking around everywhere, and they
are pulling the strings in the governments, and basically everywhere… developing a
system, a world military strategy to hunt down all the people who are to be eaten, an
operation led by the ones who eat the rest. And the thing is, there is absolutely no way
to tell between the ones who intend to eat people and the ones who don’t… But… in
the dream… somebody told me that, well, those who had broken hearts remorselessly
without having had their own hearts broken… or without ever feeling as bad as their
former loved ones… or without feeling bad about it now, I’m not sure – became
hungry for human flesh, while still retaining their human intellectual functions and
behavior. Something like…’
‘…global cannibalism spreading depending on the people’s romantic
experiences,’ Leonard reflected, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. ‘That’s a very
interesting fantasy, Wera. And, I assume, the innocent ones, the non-heartbreakers, the
heartbroken, and the inexperienced ones, like little girls and boys, babies and so on…
they’d be food. Creepy. They might make a horror movie out of it. If something like
that did indeed happen to the human world, seeing it as we know all too well the ratio
between the innocent ones and the ruthless bastards, then humanity itself would be
doomed. They’d finish the innocent ones in weeks, and then they’d eat each other, and
finally on themselves, when nothing else is left to feed on. Congratulations, Wera,’ the
vampire clapped ecstatically, ‘your nightmare is the perfect Apocalypse! Of course,
applied to the real world, this is completely ridiculous. There are rules. Such a thing
couldn’t possibly happen, even if a parallel universe like that gets imposed as a curse
on the planet.’
I shrugged.
‘It’s a good idea for a movie, though,’ I admitted, ‘for those who like seeing such
horrible things. I had a hard time just seeing it in a dream. Thank goodness, that’s all it
was.’
Huckleberry was not so sure about that.
‘I agree, but that is still a pretty strong image for a young girl’s dream…
provided she doesn’t watch too many horror movies…’
‘I don’t watch them at all,’ I confirmed proudly.
‘Well, what if it is a warning, then? For some kind of an upcoming danger? It
might be a prophetic dream…to an extent, of course, because I can’t think of anyone
who could plant a curse so vile and powerful –’
I laughed.
‘I’m sorry,’ I explained a moment later, ‘but it’s just that I don’t have prophetic
dreams. I have never been right about the future. If you’ve heard my dream about the
bee and the guitarist, you will see that I am anything but a prophet. Really, guys, I am
sorry. I doubt this dream can ever be an omen. Nothing coming from my mind can.
But Leonard can store the idea in his mind and save it for some of his exceptionally
lonely nights,’ I joked.

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 ‘Forget about my lonely nights,’ the vampire tossed his head indignantly and
started fumbling for something appropriate to wear for the day. ‘My main problem is
still the guy who thrashed my house.’
‘Well, all we know about him is the symbol on the necklace,’ Huck reminded for
the thousandth time, ‘and all we know about the symbol is virtually nothing.’
‘That is because you vampires haven’t been blessed with the gift of the Internet,’
I remarked with a small smile. ‘If you weren’t too proud to use it, you’d probably find
the symbol – and the vampire who attacked you – a lot more easily.’
The common giggle that followed my reaction made me feel silly and
embarrassed.
‘You foolish girl,’ Leonard turned to me softly, ‘we don’t need any of that stuff.
It’s full of rubbish. Besides, don’t you think I could sniff the intruder out of I wanted
to, even if he was miles away? The only problem is, he left no scent,’ he shook his
head in regret, ‘and that makes it rather annoying…’
‘He doesn’t have a scent?’ I raised an eyebrow. This sounded a little extreme.
‘No, of course he does,’ Huckleberry the eternal textbook on everything clarified,
‘only he’s got what we call a chameleon scent. Vampires with this gift are extremely
rare. They can adjust their scent and make it resemble that of almost anyone else, or
anything else they’ve been in contact with… That’s what makes it so hard to trace
him. If it hadn’t been for that, Leonard would have been on him mere hours later.’
‘In other words,’ Leonard gave me a serious look, ‘the buddy we’re after was
certainly not born last month. That is, of course, irrelevant, since he is sure to be dead
until the next one.’
We didn’t raise the subject during breakfast, which was as modest as the rest of
the apartment, because we didn’t want to upset Liz. An hour later, we were nested in
an old moth-eaten couch, and she was drawing happily on the floor in one of Huck’s
sketch pads. Leonard’s mood had improved slightly since he spent some time
watching her draw and be as joyous as ever. Perhaps, I hoped, he would let the whole
thing go. Like his nemesis had probably wisely decided by now.
But then, another problem was presented to our attention, and Leonard’s briefly
restored optimism went to hell and beyond, when his watchful eyes could finally
distinguish what it really was that Liz was drawing.
It was a large black hole full of wrecked cars and crooked screaming people.
She hadn’t overheard our conversation.
‘What did I tell you about the prophetic dreams?’ Huckleberry uttered, looking
up at his comrade in shock, pale as the candlelight in his apartment.
‘Oh, no,’ the other vampire moaned with a note of self-pity, ‘And it’s like we
didn’t have another world of problems on our hands.’

***

The curse was real, and it spread like a forest fire in the summer across every bit
on the planet inhabited by people. It didn’t spare the smallest living human soul. That
morning, people awoke in a dream within a dream. It was happening, and it wasn’t,
but they were not worried about it enough to include it in the daily news, because they

112
were hoping that they would wake up. The disappearances began to grow only an hour
later. Again, not posted or announced anywhere. People did want to hear horrible
things, always and in large amounts – but most of the people who awoke in the world
on that day wanted to, that more than anything, eat.
Jeremy Fisherman didn’t want to eat. He was trying to cut carrots in his kitchen
simply because he knew he had to keep himself occupied with something in order not
to go and slit his veins upon remembering what had just happened. He was on so many
drugs his hands were shaking heavily, and every movement of his with the kitchen
knife threatened to deprive him of a finger, or two, or three, but he was indeed so
numb with narcotics that not only would he barely notice, but the fingers would
probably grow wings and start flying around them.
As usual, he had messed everything up. He had lost the one wonderful thing in
his life, without a trace, forever. And, he was back to being terminally devastated,
trying to think about carrots and nothing else. Any other thought would kill him.
Adam Fowler, his manager, was helping him cut the carrots and spoke
compassionately to him, but he had really come to see him only because he was
satisfied to hear about Cocaine no longer being a potential threat to his and Jeremy’s
reputation.
‘That’s the way it should have happened,’ he rattled on optimistically about the
happening. ‘It wasn’t meant to be, man. Let it go.’
Jeremy said nothing. He was thinking about life, suicide and carrots.
He dimly realized he must have spent at least an hour not listening to Adam’s
words at all. He was heartbroken, enough to last him a lifetime, and the revelation that
this time he would never recover from it was unbearably painful. At this point, it was
the carrots that stood between Jeremy and death, and nothing else.
Jeremy would forever remain heartbroken and miserable. With him, it would
always be the same.
Adam Fowler, on the other hand, was going through some severe mental changes
which Jeremy had no way of noticing.
In a few words, what happened within the next few minutes was the following: at
one specific moment in time, Adam Fowler was a regular businessman, concerned
about his investments, who had finally seen the future brightening up – briefly – and
now had to deal with another monumental depression of his former classmate; at
another, he was a confused, hungry person whose hand itched, while the other hand
was clenching tightly around the knife, and felt strong and important; and, at a third
moment, he was a deranged businessman about to destroy all of his investments with
one simple, rash movement. His conscience – to the extent that he had one, and that
meant the extent of his financial success – kicked in just about in time to make his
hand miss. It was a good thing for many reasons. Jeremy needed sobering up again, for
one thing. And, for another, he didn’t need dying yet, even thought he wanted it
terribly.
Jeremy gasped and stared in disbelief at Adam, holding the knife. Jeremy held
his bleeding cheek.
‘Dude, what’s going on?’ he asked in a thin, broken voice. ‘What’d you do that
for?’

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 Adam Fowler was coming to terms with his brand new purpose in life and
resorted to a different business strategy.
‘What? Did what? Oh, did I accidentally cut you? Jesus, Jay, I’m so sorry.’
‘What do you mean “Jay”?’ Jeremy was more than freaked out. ‘I’m no “Jay” to
you. You’re the one who’s sober, watch it!’
‘I’m sorry. My hand must have slipped.’
‘Slipped? You were going for my neck! Dammit, just say it if we have issues to
resolve!’
Adam Fowler approached Jeremy, his smile a brilliant fake mask, his face
completely straight and perfectly shaven.
‘Jeremy,’ he spoke gently, patting him on the back, but Jeremy’s eyes still
followed the knife, troubled and alert. ‘Jeremy. Jay. My dear old friend. We haven’t
been getting along as we used to.’
‘Of course we haven’t, Fowler! You turned into a money-craving dirtbag!’
‘Oh, but Jay, I don’t crave money right now. It is you I crave.’
Jeremy was a little taken aback. In fact, more than a little.
‘What? You can’t be serious. Can you?’
‘Jeremy. I know that you are not like everyone else. You’re willing to accept
things in your life that some may say are… untraditional. You’re not narrow-minded. I
like that about you.’
‘Okay… I would practice lots of untraditional things, Adam, but not with you.’
Fowler was now just an inch away from him, gently caressing the knife which
awaited a firmer grip.
‘Jeremy,’ he whispered in his ear. Jeremy felt uncomfortable. ‘Jeremy. If only
you’d let me approach you…’
‘You have approached me, Adam, and that is quite enough. I’m sorry – it’s not
your gender, and it’s not your looks. You just disgust me on the inside.’
The knife finally received the clutch it had longed for.
‘Oh Jeremy,’ Adam purred, ‘you have no idea how interested I am in seeing what
you’re like on the inside…’
A second later, Adam Fowler was leaping towards Jeremy, trying to stab the
knife into his thigh, probably regretting he didn’t have a fork, too. His misleading act
of false courting was over. So was Jeremy’s communication with Adam, he decided as
he ran to the opposite end of the room, and then to the one with a door in it, but Jeremy
still decided to say to the screaming and foaming face of Adam a couple of last words
goodbye, and none of them were suitable to be heard by young children. Jeremy threw
a frying pan at his former – very, very former – friend, a deranged gay cannibal at
present, and flew out into the street, without even bothering to lock the door. He stole
Adam’s car in a rush – borrowed it, he corrected himself, borrowed it – and drove as
far away from the place as he could. He wasn’t a good driver, but he drove until he
reached a set of peaceful yards and alleys, and pulled over next to a supermarket to
buy himself some alcohol. This day was going way too badly for him to risk being
sober anytime soon.
‘Good day, sir,’ the girl at the counter greeted him sweetly. ‘What would you
like?’

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 ‘A bottle of Jack, some really bad red wine, and something that doesn’t go with
either of them, please. Or, better yet, these five bottles here.’
‘How would you like to pay for them?’
‘Cash. Here you are. Sorry, I’ve only got five hundreds right now.’
‘Thank you sir.’
‘Can I have my change?’
‘How would you like your change, sir?’
‘I don’t care. It’s really all the same to me.’
‘Then how about a terminal change, sir?’ the upbeat girl asked politely.
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘I mean, would you like to be dead, sir, or would you rather be left dying, with
small chances of survival, but still at least two limbs left?’
This was certainly a bad day for Jeremy. He was angry; no, he was scared; no, he
was furious and freaked out. He’d been driving for an hour now, trying to find a decent
place to buy alcohol from, but everywhere all people seemed to want to do is to kill
him and eat every bit of flesh that was on his body. And they pretended, they
pretended that that’s not what they were after at all! Had the world gone insane? Had
the world become even worse than it had been this morning? Was that even possible?
What the hell was going on?
Desperate, panicking and predictable, Jeremy drove to the only place a person
who had seen more than five zombie movies could come up with going to in a similar
situation: the church.
It was a rather small church, and Jeremy never went there. Mostly because his
occupation and messages had made sure that every person who did go to church hated
him beyond description. But when he pulled over in a hurry by the small iron gates,
Jeremy felt grateful, saved and almost a believer, and as he banged wildly on the
wooden door at the entrance, he was ready to renounce the ideas of half of his songs.
Only as long as somebody opened up. It didn’t matter who. Come to think of it, he
didn’t even know what religion that particular church professed.
The wooden door creaked and left a narrow crack open in it. An eye appeared in
it thoroughly examining the visitor.
‘Who’s there?’
Jeremy began jumping impatiently in one place.
‘It’s me! I mean, Jeremy Fisherman! I mean Frankie! I need shelter! Please!
Everyone’s gone mad, people are trying to eat each other in the streets, and I mean
steak-wise, and I don’t want to die! I need your help…’
‘Who did you say you were?’ the eye rolled suspiciously.
‘Please, you’ve got to let me in! I have to find some kind of military group, or a
holy group, or just some help, because a little girl might be out there and she might be
getting torn to pieces as we speak…’
‘Did you say you were Frankie? The rockstar? You look like him, that’s for
sure.’
‘Yes. Yes I am. Please, please let me in…’
‘The person who sang: “God ain’t moving anymore, but let’s put another bullet
in His head just in case?”

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 There was silence on the other side of the door. Jeremy damned himself for
having been an enemy of the Christian church for such a long time.
‘Our church does not give shelter to the likes of you,’ the person inside
concluded after a second or two of deep contemplation. Jeremy groaned.
‘Oh, come on!’ he rolled his eyes to the unfriendly sky, and to the god that he
had offended on a daily basis: ‘You’ve got to be kidding me!’
To his own surprise, the wooden door opened before him, with no warning at all.
He beamed and blew a kiss at the heavens. Probably God liked him more than he liked
God, Jeremy thought.
A distrustful face belonging to a fat man in a brown robe met his and muttered
disapprovingly:
‘Don’t think too much of yourself. We don’t want to let you in. But there’s a man
here waiting for you. He wants to see you.’
‘Me?’ Jeremy was impressed, curious, and slightly flattered. How did that man,
whoever he was, knew where to wait for him? Jeremy himself didn’t know he’d be
here ten minutes ago.
The man in the brown robe read the question on the rockstar’s lips.
‘He… sees things sometimes. Before they’ve happened. He can also tell whether
the card you’re holding when playing poker is an ace, or a queen, and things like that.
That’s why nobody plays cards with him.’
Jeremy was led into a secret passage – damn, that was exactly what it was,
Jeremy thought stunned, and he assumed for the first time in his life that churches
were more interesting than he’d ever thought as a teenager – and there, he was
immediately surrounded by more men in robes, shaking their heads disappointedly at
him. He instantly desecrated the place with a few carefully chosen words and gestures.
The moment he did, abrupt silence was established in the hollow corridor, and Jeremy
thought it was his doing, but was wrong. All heads turned in the opposite direction and
soon the rockstar spotted a man emerging from the other side of the dark passage. The
man was dark-haired, wore a black tie, a white shirt and a black suit, and had a
scrutinizing look on his face, which, on the one hand, was quite handsome for a man
of Jeremy’s age, and, on the other hand, had certainly seen a lot. The man approached
puzzled Jeremy, patted him on the shoulder, coughed a long, deep, painful cough – the
cough of a heavy drinker and smoker – and then smirked coldly at him, examining the
other man with his focused hawk stare.
‘Ah, Jeremy Fisherman,’ the mysterious suited man greeted, and his steely smirk
immediately disappeared. ‘Nice to finally meet you. Before you get freaked out, no,
we are not a cult or an order, no, we are not the FBI, and no, we are not here to arrest
you for the disappearance of a girl known as Magnolia Wilder, which you happen to
call Cocaine. We’re here because you’ve been the cause of a royal hiccup in the
history of the universe as we know it. Our only goal is to try to fix it, preferably with
your humble assistance, and to keep you from becoming someone’s dinner. Don’t get
freaked out. Everything is going to be okay, except that you will probably burn in hell
for this. Please follow me to a safer location, and I will explain everything to you on
the way. My name is Jake Jonathan, and I will be your personal exorcist for this
evening.’

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 ***

‘This can’t be true,’ I was repeating my futile, pointless mantra over and over
while rocking back and forth on one of Huck’s cheap chairs. ‘This can’t be true.’
‘It is true,’ Jake Jonathan said to me calmly. ‘But don’t worry, worse things have
happened to the world. We’ve dealt with them, haven’t we? What’s another
Apocalypse, right? Cheer up!’
He seemed perfectly calm. I could tell that he was dying for a smoke, though.
Jake had just appeared in Huck’s house out of nowhere – he had such a talent,
yes, and that was not admirable having in mind the kind of person he was; the hard
part was to get him to disappear and go back home instead of pestering us ‘till the end
of time. He was just explaining the situation in the human world to me. It was all real.
Jake was a man with a bleak background, and his job description was the
following: he hunted down demons. At least those that were making more trouble than
they ought to, not the harmless ones like Frankie. Some of the harmless demons he
even played cards with, and always won, of course. Jake was a good, clever man
always ready to put his life on the line for the well-being of the world and the whole
concept of good prevailing over evil, in all ways. He dealt with critical matters such as
this one. I had met him when I’d been fifteen, and we had become really good friends;
he had even taught me a few tricks to help me protect myself from demonic influences.
On a personal note, he was completely obnoxious, vain, and rude. Yana could never
grow to stand him. I liked his personality, on the other hand. He had a bitterness about
him that could get him through almost any universal disaster.
‘I came as fast as I could,’ he said to me with a permanent frown. ‘It’s true,
everyone who has remorselessly broken more hearts than the times their hearts have
been broken are out feeding on the innocent now. It’s a disaster. I’ve called a few
people who are trying to maintain a certain amount of control over the situation, but
soon it will get really bad. The good news is I know what caused it, and how it can be
reversed.’
‘Really? You do?’ I exclaimed, but it was not a question, because I knew he had
a solution even for the toughest situation. These kinds of happenings were his
specialty.
‘The whole thing started from your beloved Frankie,’ Jake explained matter-of-
factly. ‘He felt useless, he decided to die, his last wish was that his old host Jeremy
Fisherman – yeah, you know the guy – was happy, so he called out a guardian angel
for him. The angel turned out to be a girl with issues and feelings for him. They had a
fight, it all got dramatic, she got pissed off and put a spell on the human world. The
good news is the spell only affects mortal human beings of pure human descent, so
you needn’t worry about Charlie, at least, what with him being part angel and so on.
The better news is we have Jeremy Fisherman, me and a few people who know what’s
going on, and if we search the dimensions for his Cocaine, find her and get him to
apologize to her properly before the world has become a place worse than hell, we can
put an end to this. But you,’ he pointed a stern, warning finger at me, ‘you will not be
getting involved into this. You’re staying here, and I’ll make sure I pull some strings
to provide some protection for your family and friends, and their families. That’s all

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we can do at this point. Meanwhile, we’ll have to come up with ways to resist the
cannibals. Without killing anyone, of course – they are still people, after all.’
Leonard nearly fell off his chair.
‘Great! Fine,’ he raised his arms in a gesture of fierce hopelessness, when he and
gravity had come to some sort of an agreement. ‘No killing – no problem! I’d just like
to say one thing: don’t get me involved with this circus act you’re planning. Count me
out. I’m tired of fighting bad guys with rainbows.’
‘No one’s asking for your cooperation, Blondielocks,’ Jake got him to shut up
with a narrow-eyed, ignorant stare. He was good at ignoring people. Then, he turned to
me: ‘What the hell is his problem?’ he asked, as though Leonard was not even present.
‘He’s going through a really tough period of abstinence,’ I explained briefly,
while mine and Huck’s glances of concern towards Leonard crossed in the air for a
moment or so. ‘I’ll tell you about it later.’
‘Please do. Anyway, Wera, like I said, you will not be going out there,
understand? I don’t care if you want to help your friends, or Frankie, or anyone: you’ll
just make yourself a lot harder for me to protect this way. You are to stay here until
further instructions. This is not your war. Believe me, it’s not a child’s game either.
Many people might die. Many people will.’
‘Really?’ Leonard hissed with a shard of destructive irony in his voice. ‘Oh,
that’s so sad. I thought there wasn’t going to be any killing.’
‘I just want to make sure everybody’s fine,’ I pleaded, and held Jake by the arm,
instinctively. He was like a rod of safety in the darkest of times, regardless of his
unpleasant disposition. ‘How’s Frankie? He isn’t dead, is he? What’s going to happen
to everyone?’
‘Frankie’s fine,’ Jake waved his hand impatiently. ‘Don’t worry about him; he’s
helping protect your loved ones. We’re doing the best we can. He’s looking after
Dwayna now, just in case, Pan’s responsible for Yana temporarily until I get back –
yeah, you know which Pan I am talking about, – I got a very of my angel friends to
take care of the protection of your parents and your normal friends, Possey the angel
has volunteered to guard Velichka and – ’
‘Possey!’ I exclaimed all of a sudden. ‘How is he? Is he alright?’
‘We’re in the middle of an occult disaster, how do you think he is?’ Jake
Jonathan snapped. ‘He’s furious. He blames himself, and Frankie, of course. The last
words I heard them exchange were the following: Possey yelled at Frankie: “I thought
you weren’t gonna end the world!”, and Frankie yelled back at him: “If I had known
back then, I would have told you in advance!”
I sighed heavily. Huck and Leonard were feeling left out of the entire
conversation. Leonard was better off this way.
‘Unfortunately, there is nothing you can do, and no one you can see at this point,’
the exorcist said to me in a voice so firm one could bend metal around. ‘You’re safe
here, because the curse can’t reach this world. I’ll contact you if there is any
improvement in the situation, or if there is a need for anything, and I’ll have to go
soon, or Yana will go crazy. Now, I’ve got your friends covered for now, so – ’
‘What?’ I shrieked, suddenly remembering something I would later on rather
forget, and stood up with a distressed jump. ‘What about Ivo? Who’s watching after
him?’

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 Jake apparently didn’t understand the message I was trying to convey to him.
‘What?’
‘You know, Ivo! Ivaylo! My other friend, remember?’
‘Who?’
‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ I growled, rolling my eyes in irritation in the direction of
Huck’s leaking ceiling. ‘Savrax! Who else could I be talking about?!’
‘Oh, right. That one. Sorry, I’m having a hard time remember his real name.
Well, here, we might have a little bit of a complication…’
‘A complication?’ I bristled in a fit of panic and fury. ‘You mean you’re not
protecting all of them? Three out of four is good enough, right, so what if we lose
another? Come on, please tell me you have a back-up plan, an extra angel, or kind-
hearted demon working for free, anyone to occupy the position!’
Jake’s face put on one of its desperate half-frowns, and that wasn’t a shade of it
that I liked the least.
‘Listen,’ he began slowly, ‘it isn’t so much a matter of guardians, while it is a
matter of… condition. The case might not be as simple as you think with this
particular friend of yours.’
‘What? Why doesn’t he deserve to be saved?’
‘Of course he does. But think hard, Wera,’ Jake Jonathan leaned meaningfully
towards me, ‘think. We all are aware that most of your friends are sensitive and
unfortunate in the matters of love, and they have undoubtedly been heartbroken and
screwed over more than their less troubled former mates. We’ve checked this matter,
profoundly, believe me. But think just for a second: does your friend Savrax belong
with a dead certainty to that same group? Or…’
He paused after the “or”. There was no need to go on any further.
‘Can you guarantee about your friend that the suffering experienced in his life,
heart-wise, I mean, is sufficiently more than the suffering consciously or
unconsciously inflicted?’
I couldn’t say a word, and froze as a sea of foreboding images drowned the
briefly renewed spark of relief in my head. My friend Savrax did tend to spare himself
some of the more unpleasant emotional experiences in life. In fact, he was a little like
vampires in this way, to the extent that I’d known him.
‘If you can’t prove this,’ Jake proceeded with a strictly business tone, ‘then you
should consider the idea that he might not need the same kind of protection the rest of
your friends will need. But the people around him will need lots of it, and I do not
know if we can take care of all that.’
‘But this is ridiculous!’ I objected with a feeble, outraged voice. ‘You can’t tell
me that this is going to happen! He’s not that kind of a person!’
‘Nobody is, Wera, except the members of certain tribes.’
‘But he’s not a bad person!’
‘Neither is Jeremy Fisherman. But, see, one small mistake, made with the best
intentions, and he turns into a heartbreaker. If he didn’t have such a history of post-
love depressions he’d be out on the streets snacking on someone’s legs as we speak.’
The exorcist sighed, and when he spoke again, his tone indicated that there was
nothing to be done about it. ‘I can see how you see things, Wera. But this is not about
being good, or bad. This is a game played by the rules of a furious angel. You didn’t

119
suffer enough for love, you didn’t repent enough for the times you chose your
happiness over someone else’s, and boom – you’re a cannibal. Who knows, you could
have been one, too, if he cursed had reached you. This isn’t about being bad. But we
think it’s most likely that the worst will happen, and I had to ask you before I acted
upon it. So, what do you suggest we did?’
I froze, although I thought I couldn’t possibly freeze any further.
‘How should I know? I can’t decide for someone else! It’s just… okay, what are
the alternatives?’ I consented weakly at last, bending under Jake’s judging, hawk stare.
He raised three extended finger to his face.
‘A) we kill him, B) we put him out, C) we tie him up, mutilate him, beat him
almost to death, sedate him and delete all of his memories of the happening.’
‘Are you kidding?! That’s monstrous!’ I shrieked shrilly. Leonard yawned
ostentatiously for everyone to see.
‘Well, alright then, D) we let him feed on everyone in his neighborhood. Does
that sound any better?’
Leonard groaned wearily, stood up slowly, vainly, gracefully, like a cat
stretching after its sleep, leaned over me and the exorcist and said nobly:
‘Alright. You’ve talked me into it. I’ll help. Yes, yes, don’t look at me like that,
everything will be taken care of. This is no longer your responsibility. I have my ways.
I have connections too, you know. Come on now, Jake, go watch over Yana. I don’t
want you leaving her safety in the hands of a second-hand demon. Besides, you’re
pissing me off.’
Jake shrugged.
‘As long as you know what you’re doing,’ he conceded with an air of
insufferable indifference. ‘Very well then, Wera, I must go. Blondielocks is right, I
have to protect Yana. Don’t worry, he’s not as stupid as he looks. Oh, by the way,’
Jake stood up and turned around, as if he had forgotten something, ‘his abstinence
thing, does it pose any kind of threat to you?’
‘No, don’t worry,’ I quickly assured the exorcist. ‘It’s just something he’s
developed since this vampire broke into his house a couple of weeks ago, he tried to
kill us all and ran. Since then, Leonard’s been craving revenge. It’s nothing serious.’
‘A vampire broke into your house? He must have destroyed some precious
items,’ Jake remarked heartlessly, and eyed Leonard with a look that said “filthy
bloodsucker” better than words ever could. ‘I’m surprised he’s not dead yet… oh, but
you’re all good and pure now, I forgot.’
‘He will be dead,’ Leonard promised grumpily, blushing. ‘As soon as I track him
down, he will be.’
‘We haven’t been able to determine the trail of his scent yet, he’s not quite like
other vampires,’ Huckleberry explained, happy to finally be of assistance.
‘Really?’ Jake raised an eyebrow. ‘I might be able to help with the search, if you
like, ask my friends from above and below for a favor or two they owe me… That
vampire, what does he look like?’
‘We couldn’t see very clearly. He was wearing a long black cloak, you know,
like the one Dracula usually wears in the movies… High collar, hood underneath. His
face was overshadowed, and we were fighting, I couldn’t see it well…’

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 ‘What about his height?’ Jake the exorcist detective inquired. ‘Was he tall? Thin,
maybe?’
‘Yeah. Very tall, very thin. I mean, to the point where it’s not pretty anymore.’
‘Pale, skinny hands with swollen veins? Black nail polish?’
‘Actually, now that you mention it, yes.’
‘Face like a sinister bird? Maliciously squinting eyes? Nose as sharp as a pencil?’
‘Precisely! How do you know?’ Leonard’s eyes glinted, alight with suddenly
sparked interest. ‘Wow, I’m impressed, you really are gifted… I thought this psychic
mumbo-jumbo was just an act. You wouldn’t happen to know his name too, now,
would you?’
‘Not a bloody idea.’
‘Oh. Darn.’
‘But you can always ask him personally. I mean, he’s right outside the front door
at the moment.’
Jake Jonathan vanished, in the flaunty, abrupt way that he always did. He was
indeed gifted to see things most other people couldn’t see. Sometimes, they came in
the form of visions or revelations. Then again, in other cases, it simply sufficed to look
out the window.

***

I could barely catch up with Huck and Leonard on the way out. They sprang up
as though they’d just been electrocuted and dashed maniacally down the stairs,
grabbing whatever sharp objects they could get their hands on along the way, tearing
off legs of chairs and tables, thrilled, impatient, high on adrenaline, prepared to out-
stake their opponent as soon as he entered, or chase him down the street with shrieks
and threats if he chose to run until they cornered and killed him. There was not the
slightest sign of caution in their actions to be seen. Indeed, I thought to myself as I
sprinted after them downstairs, vampires were to a greater extent predators in certain
situations than they were humans. Also, they were a little overconfident and naïve.
Their attack was significantly hampered by the fact that their strange nemesis
was not set on attacking, running, or defending himself in any way. When we all
rushed out, we simply found him standing peacefully at the door as if he was prepared
to sell us some cookies made to a special Halloween recipe.
Leonard swayed uncontrollably forward and nearly staked his enemy to death.
He managed to regain some of his equilibrium in the last second, though. Finishing his
vampire opponent off in an instant would have taken all the fun out of the idea of
vengeance. Besides, it was a little unusual to face off with someone who wasn’t
intending to fight for vampires – and a little immoral, even for them.
‘Ah, good day,’ the stranger purred with a tiny, wicked grin on his face which
bore a pending threat in store, in case it was needed. ‘I would like to introduce myself,
if you are not terribly busy. I see you’re about to go out, and I am so lucky to have
found you all here, gentle hosts.’
His ironic, malevolent smile became ever tinier and sharper. Leonard and Huck
stood dumbstruck before him.

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 ‘I didn’t come to fight you, or to kill you. I will have no choice but to do it, of
course, if you try to do the same to me. No? Very well then. My reasons to be here are
simple: I am the person who broke into your mansion’, he pointed an exquisitely thin,
bony finger at Leonard, ‘and I’m here to make sure that I do not have to do this again.
I have come to recollect an item which was, prior to your interference, my possession.
I humbly ask you to willingly return it to me so that I won’t be forced to extinguish
your petty lives.’
‘Wait a minute,’ Leonard had finally restored his ability to speak eloquently, and
he was now brimming with flaring rage, ‘first of all, if you actually think we’ll give
you what you want, and then sweetly send you off on your way, you’re greatly
deluded – but I can already tell you are by your silly nail polish and your stupid cape.
Second, you tried to kill us before, so I see nothing stopping you from killing us once
you’ve obtained your precious little bling-bling.’
‘I do not feel it’s necessary to dispose of any soul unless it stands in my way,’ the
stranger announced imperturbably.
‘Well, sorry, but I do feel it’s necessary to dispose of you, especially since you’re
standing in my way.’
‘Leonard, be reasonable,’ Huck whispered in the ear of the heated with
vindictiveness vampire. ‘If his intentions are truly peaceful –’
‘Please,’ Leonard’s arch enemy addressed us softly. ‘I sincerely do not wish to
harm you. But I will if you fail to understand this object’s importance to me. The
medallion I am looking for holds great sentimental value to me, you see.’
‘Well, my best friend’s life and my daughter’s mental health are of great
sentimental value to me as well, Vlad,’ Leonard hissed sharply in response, ‘but you
didn’t think of that, did you?’
‘I am so sorry to correct you, dear sir, ‘the other vampire responded with a small
bow and impeccable gallantry, ‘but, with all due respect, my name is not Vlad.’
‘Well I’d be delighted to learn your real name, then, Non-Vlad,’ Leonard shined
an icy fanged smile at the stranger, ‘because I believe it is only fair that I know what to
engrave on your tombstone.’
‘Gladly,’ the vampire nodded, and bowed to us all again. He smiled his miniature
smile once again, raised a long, thin, black-nailed finger in the direction of the pendant
that I was still, to my deepest current regrets, wearing around my unprotected neck,
and introduced himself, with the type of grace in his voice that even Leonard could not
help but envy: ‘Please forgive my rudeness. My name is Valerius. And you have
something of mine.’

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 Chapter Twelve
Rheetah’s Problem

Vampires, I said to myself for the thousandth time, were really, really naïve.
When they marked someone as their mortal enemy – for reasons good enough
even for people, – they were truly, deeply determined to make sure the bad guy was
nothing but ashes within due time. For a while. Almost as soon as the aforementioned
mortal enemy apologized for his terrible, unforgivable wrongdoings, though, they
instantly became very forgivable, and any self-respecting vampire would let him get
away with an attempt for murder with just a few grumpy faces and discontented
murmurs once the evildoer had claimed something like “Sorry, I didn’t mean to, it was
nothing personal”. I was amazed by the amount of blind trust that existed among
fellow vampires in their sly, vicious, murderous community. But then it dawned on
me. Vampires, possibly more rarely yet more sincerely than anyone in the world,
resorted to the use of words like “please” and “sorry”. People, on the other hand, used
these words all the time, and to them, words meant nothing. To vampires, another
vampire’s word was of great importance. That explained why theirs was the only
society in which the word “kill” could be easily overpowered by the word “sorry”.
Then again, maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.
Leonard, Huck, Valerius and I were currently sitting at a table in a nameless,
poorly decorated cafeteria, which reminded me of some of my town’s rock cafés and –
oh, joy – did play Guns ‘n’ Roses after all, chatting occasionally and drinking coffee,
well, most of us, anyway. Leonard had brought a chair leg along just for insurance. He
had ordered a special herb tea, to help him keep his calm. I was having iced water with
lemon, and Huck and Valerius were the ones who had chosen coffee. Huck explained
he was trying to cut down on “the redder drinks”, and Valerius guiltlessly admitted he
wasn’t, but it was just too early in the day for him to drink anything but coffee.
‘It’s an amazing little place, I’ll give you that,’ Huck praised the cafeteria,
completely ignorant of the fact that the person who had nearly killed him just a few
weeks ago was sitting right beside him. Today, he was simply a pleasant acquaintance.
If he covered the expenses for the repair work of Leonard’s house, they’d be perfectly
even.
‘Yes, I enjoy its anonymous spirit,’ Valerius agreed, sipping on his coffee
elegantly, maniacally following the pendant with his dark, greenish eyes as he drank.
‘It is a great place to visit when one wishes not to be recognized and left to oneself.’
‘Why would you want to be anonymous?’ Leonard asked with no more than a
shadow of spite in his smooth voice. ‘What happened, they threw you out of the Goth
club you used to go to? Let me guess: your cloak didn’t have enough bats on it?’
‘On the contrary, it has plenty of bats on the inside,’ Valerius responded with a
sarcastic grin, to the extent that his tiny smile allowed for being turned into a grin. It
looked more like a brief snarl rather than anything else. ‘Please do not think I am the
least bit disturbed by your shallow comments on my apparel. After all, do not forget
we came here to negotiate, not to mock each other – otherwise I would have had more

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than a lot to say about your transsexual even by the vampire standards shirt, and your
Victorian shoes matched with eighteenth century trousers.’
Huck stifled a grin, and hid what was left of it in his cup of coffee. I smiled
hesitantly, and Leonard blushed with anger.
‘You’re right,’ he conceded meekly, upon restoring his former complexion.
‘Anyway, I find it pointless to compete with you, physically or verbally. You’re
unfortunate enough as it is, seeing it as you stole your grandmother’s curtains to make
a cape for yourself since you couldn’t afford to buy that dream Dracula costume you
found on eBay.’
‘You know about eBay?’ I exclaimed in wonder.
‘They sell Dracula costumes on eBay?’ Huck raised an eyebrow, and I never
wanted to know why he asked that. Valerius smirked, and as usual didn’t overdo it.
‘Alright, children,’ he said condescendingly, ‘I suggest we got on with the
negotiations. It seems to me you are all far too charming to get murdered, by me, at
least. But I will need that medallion. I’d suggest you gave it to me in exchange for my
sparing your lives.’
‘I’d suggest we gave it to you in exchange for your repainting and redecorating
my mansion,’ Leonard leaned back in his chair with an air of doubtless superiority
about him. It was all about superiority with vampires. ‘And we’re giving you nothing
until you tell us what it is for.’
‘It possesses no occult significance or unusual power, at least none that any
common vampire would be interested in,’ the tallest, thinnest vampire of the three
scarcely explained. ‘It will not help anyone rule the world, in other words. This is
simply a personal item to me. It will not kill you to hand it over to me. I don’t think I
need to share more about its essence.’
Something – possibly the iced water which was freshening and relaxing my brain
– urged me to cut in the conversation.
‘Um, I’m very interested in its meaning, though,’ I ventured to confess. ‘Not the
power, whatever power it might have… just the general meaning of the symbol. I’m
asking out of simple curiosity. I don’t intend to use it for any evil purposes, I swear,’ I
clarified shyly. ‘I just saw it in a dream, and I’d like to interpret my dream properly,
that’s all…’
‘Darling,’ Valerius cast a narrow, fleeting, ridiculing glance at me, ‘I wouldn’t
believe you if you told me you could use a flyswatter for evil purposes. A crippled
baby rabbit possesses a greater potential for evil deeds than you do. I wouldn’t worry
about leaving the medallion with you, but I am far too worried that you might lose it
by accident while you’re brushing your hair to the sound of love songs in the
morning.’
‘Oh, that’s where you’re very wrong,’ Leonard interceded to defend me. ‘She’s
got a potential to be quite wicked, you just don’t know anything about her yet.’
‘Nonsense,’ the other vampire responded with a demolishing smile. ‘I know what
she is. And if she were forced to kill me, right here and right now, to save your lives,
she’d cry for three months straight and start going to church every day for the rest of
her life.’
‘Why do you have to talk back to everyone?’ I scolded him, insulted and
embarrassed. I was evil alright. I had discovered it very recently and was still coming

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to terms with it, struggling with my conscience. And now this vampire was mocking
my unfortunate state by daring to say it wasn’t even true.
Valerius shrugged with unconcealed self-satisfaction.
‘Because I’m evil,’ he replied merrily. ‘Unlike you silly lot. If the famous
bloodthirsty, remorseless killer Leonard has not staked me in the stomach with that
chair leg he’s hesitantly holding under the table yet, then he is not worthy of his
reputation at all.’
‘Weren’t we going to talk about the medallion?’ Leonard reminded through
gritted teeth. ‘So what’s the deal with you caring about it so much? Your girlfriend
gave it to you when you two got your “Forever In Darkness” tattoos, and then she
dumped you for someone more fashionably aware?’
‘Not even close,’ still as calmly announced Valerius. ‘It has nothing to do with
an old lost love, a tragedy, or a similar pointless melodrama. It is merely something of
a… passion of mine.’
I stared at him in puzzlement. He acted like a poser, he looked like a poser, he
was anciently witty and gallantly sarcastic with everyone, and people like that I had
seen before, but I simply couldn’t figure him out. Valerius was not a vampire like all
others. The first piece of evidence in favor of that statement was that, most of all, he
wasn’t a handsome vampire, and good looks were pretty much obligatory in the
vampire society. People who became vampires developed an instant touch of
irresistible charm to their appearance. Valerius had the flair, the manners, the
intelligence, the composed flamboyant arrogance – but strictly visual appeal was
nowhere to be seen. Since vampirism had failed to turn him into a sexual predator,
possibly nothing could. He was tall and thin, but not within the limits of what was
attractive to most people. Anatomically, he leaned towards the figure of Jack from
“The Nightmare Before Christmas” rather than that of a well-built human being. From
the sharp chin up, his malevolent, cunning triangular face somewhat reminded the
observer of an eagle. His chestnut hair was cut short, with the exclusion of several
longer thin tresses casting shadows on each side of his pale forehead. In his cape with
a high black collar and a scarlet lining he resembled what Dracula would have looked
like as an anorexic priest. Everything about him seemed to be abundant in edges and
angles. His eyes, on the other hand, failed to convey the alert, eagle stare that would
have fit the rest of his appearance. On the contrary, they had something laid-back
about them, something that indicated they observed the world calmly, imperturbably,
as though nothing could trouble or take their owner by surprise, and they lazily rolled
in their sockets beneath long eyelashes as they were ceaselessly entertained by the
predictability of the people inhabiting the world they watched from a distance. The
small, ironic, all-knowing smile was the only thing about Valerius that suited the mood
of his eyes. The glint of a hunter only sparked in them when they were set on the
necklace I was wearing, obviously the only thing in his world he didn’t see fit to laugh
at.
However, if there was one thing about Valerius that I found perfectly, exquisitely
beautiful according to my own twisted beauty standard, it was his hands. They were
haunting, pale, long-fingered, and seemed to sprout knuckles and veins all over their
surface. It didn’t matter that these delicately tormented hands had painted fingertips.
As soon as I saw Valerius reach out for his coffee cup at the table, I knew I was

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prepared to take his hand in marriage without hesitation – and throw away the rest of
him, of course.
Leonard didn’t find Valerius at all puzzling. He simply thought the man thought
too much of himself.
‘Passion, you say? And that’s all we’re getting, I assume?’ he protested.
‘You are very immature, Leonard,’ Valerius estimated, sipping on his precious
coffee once more. ‘Yes, that’s all you’re getting. That, and the knowledge of your
childishness.’
‘Keeps me young,’ Leonard replied obstinately. ‘Anyway, I’m not giving your
priceless item away until you reveal its secret to us. Try killing us if you like. So,
what’s it gonna be, Dracula? We’re going to hang around mediocre cafeterias with
your pompous self until you’ve spent enough time with us to trust us?’
‘Why not?’ Valerius raised an eyebrow underneath the hair falling tidily over his
forehead. ‘It seems like the best idea suggested so far. I agree without any objections.
And, to display my delight, fair gentlemen, I’ll pay the check. You’ve earned it.’ He
stood up and extended his hand for a handshake of peace. Leonard and Huck
subsequently took it, Leonard with reluctance, and Huck – with relief. The truth was
that neither of them could afford an extra enemy right now – not in those hard times,
anyway.
That evening, we all relocated to Leonard’s mansion, and to everyone’s surprise,
Valerius actually did a bit of housework for free when we arrived. Leonard allowed
himself to boss him around a little, just for the fun of it, and Valerius did not say a
word against it.
‘Hey, I was wondering,’ the blond vampire muttered as he was circling the
working one just to criticize him whenever he got the opportunity, ‘why didn’t you kill
me the night you broke into the house? I’m just curious, you know. Since that item
was so important for you, why didn’t you just off me, snatch it and go entertain your
sullen self with it in your dusty coffin? What was it that stopped you, your Evilness,
from accomplishing your goal?’
Valerius shrugged impassively.
‘She asked me not to,’ he titled his head indicatively at me, whose jaw dropped
in astonishment. ‘She said “please”, after all. Most people see it as a sign of weakness
these days. But I can’t wrong someone who is being polite to me.’
‘Thought so,’ Leonard eyed Huck triumphantly. ‘You owe me a beer.’
‘Um, guys, I know we’re acting like one big happy family now, and that’s just
swell,’ I muttered from my spot in the living room – or the living undead room, which
it seemed more like at this point – ‘but what are we going to do about Ivo?’
‘Who?’ asked Leonard.
I rolled my eyes towards the ceiling.
‘Gosh! Savrax! Who else? You said you were going to take care of the matters.
How?’
‘Don’t worry, darling,’ Leonard replied reassuringly, and patted me on the
shoulder to enhance the effect of his words. ‘I’ve got it all covered. I told you – I’ve
got connections.’
‘But you haven’t even spoken to anyone, or written a letter, or made a phone
call…’

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 ‘Wera. Wera. Calm down. When I say I’ve got connections, I mean it much more
literally than you could possibly imagine.’

***

A coated figure in heavy leather boots was advancing through the damp grass
and even damper mud. It was raining like hell, and that wasn’t helping it reach its
desired destination. The figure was shaking every time the wind decided to start
blowing more severely than usual, and its boots chinked with a metallic sound every
step forward it took with difficulty. It was cold. It was damn cold in the vampire
world, the figure was thinking, enraged. Vampires themselves were the only ones who
were cold-blooded enough not to realize it.
The silhouette strode through the storm solely out of the stubbornness of its
heart, reached a rusted gateway, muttered a few muffled words and passed through. On
the other side, it entered a place with a much softer climate. The clinking figure was
slightly pleased. Finally, a place where it didn’t have to hide in order not to be seen. It
didn’t enjoy the way people looked at it when they saw it.
The mysterious figure, its face concealed deeply in the hood of its thick fur-
collared coat, wandered, seemingly aimlessly, for a while, passing absent-mindedly by
alleyways and small shops, schools and bus-stops, until it finally reached the mediocre
building it was looking for. If anyone knew that it was really walking with its eyes
closed all this time, they’d be even more puzzled to see it. But nobody would notice
the silhouette here. It was secure.
Up filthy stairs the coated figure went, spreading mud across them thus certainly
not making them any cleaner, to a simple, thin door it kicked open with a laughable
effort. It entered the apartment, and the moment it did, a thick, oversweet aroma
caused the temporarily equivalent of a concussion to its sensitive nose, and yet, again,
solely out of stubbornness, it went on and on until it was in the living room, where the
struggle with the overpowering scent was nearly impossible to win. The figure took off
its coat, threw it carelessly on a couch nearby, took a dirty handkerchief out of the
pocket of its trousers, covered its nose with it with one hand, and used the other to take
out a small case out of another pockets of its multifunctional trousers. The mysterious
visitor opened the case with its teeth, and the case revealed a miniature syringe filled
to the top with a vivid blue liquid. Its color was so unnatural that it seemed to be
throbbing frighteningly in the light. The figure clasped a strong hand over the syringe,
walked over to the middle of the living room to find a person sitting on a chair, reading
peacefully. The silhouette laughed cheerlessly. Was that what they had sent it for? It
waved a hand energetically in front of the young man’s face. There was no reaction
whatsoever. The figure sighed. So much for being here incognito. It was going to be
over very soon, and it would be stared at in fear again. It almost thought the job wasn’t
worth the money. But money was needed, so it had no choice.
The hooded silhouette sighed again, shook its head hopelessly, clutched the blue
syringe tighter and stuck it with a little too much rigor in the reading person’s neck.
It took a few seconds for the substance to kick in, after the person muttered
something of an “Ow” and reached for his neck to see what was wrong with it. And
just like that, with the power of chemistry alone (and possibly a little magic included),

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brain centers twitched, perspectives changed, and the person stabbed with a syringe
mere seconds ago turned around and saw the world with different eyes.

***

Ivaylo Peas (known to most people predominantly as Savrax) was not a child of
the night. At least not anymore. Not that he had ever been one, of course. Well, maybe
a little bit. But it was a phase for the younger ones. It had been a long time ago, and
even if he had retained an aesthetic and idiosyncratic taste leaning towards the morbid,
he was now a responsible man going about his business day after day, indulging his
mind only in minimal, harmless distractions of the nocturnal type, or at least minimal
distractions of the kind that impeded his life as a human being. Again, not that he had
ever had any other. The past was left in the past, where it belonged, and the past and
present events and choices altogether made every person what they were. It was a
strict formula to which there were no exceptions. If there was a thought in the world in
which a person could go wrong, it was to think that he or she was, in some way,
different, or exceptional, or extraordinary. Sooner or later, everything got down to
basic principles, even people. So Ivaylo Peas would state, if ever asked, that he was
not at all a child of the night, as there was simply no such thing. People were made
who they were by life itself – and often, by themselves, which applied to him more
than many others – and the very idea of anyone being marked by the hand of the
goddess of darkness, light, love or any such imaginary deity, was one all too ridiculous
and served to satisfy the insecure little brains of pathetic teens who craved to believe
that they had been chosen for a greater purpose. That sort of thinking only brought
difficulty into one’s life.
Of course, there were the dark aesthetics that remained. They stuck to you in
your choice of music, imagery, clothing, house decorations and pretty much
everything that counted as your lifestyle. But one needed to know where to draw the
line. Not that crossing lines was a bad thing – Ivaylo would have said, – but this was
different. Yes, he had read many a vampire novel in his youth, which he was by the
way still in, although he didn’t read them anymore as practically everyone wrote
vampire novels these days… and yes, he had bought incense for his house on a number
of occasions, and yes, he had indulged, every now and then, in the fantasy of being, for
a little while, in a world or time which fit his aesthetics better than his own – but at the
moment, he had no time for any of this. Not that he was ever trying to deny it. It was a
part of him, like everything else, including his duties. And there was nothing irregular,
abnormal or extraordinary about that.
And it was exactly because Ivaylo didn’t find it especially proper to use
excessively words like “different”, “extraordinary” and “abnormal” that he would have
found it extremely hard to describe the figure that appeared in sight after a brief but
intense sting in the neck. There were hardly any other words that could possibly
describe it.
It was the figure of a woman – but the word “woman” could in this case be used
only in its broadest sense. Few men got to see women looking like that, and it was
usually the last thing they ever got to see. It was a very tall, firmly built woman
dressed predominantly in furs and leather, as though she was some sort of an ancient

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barbarian. She carried a sword, an axe, and a couple of knives on her, tied to her body
with a web of tangled leather bonds. The maze of scars, burns and deep, vicious cuts,
which every inch of the surface of her pale skin was covered with, defined her as a
frequent fighter the moment one laid eyes on her. Her waving, ash blond – or was it
ash gray? – hair resembled a mane rather than regular hair. Her expression was firm,
proud, unyielding, masculine, merciless. This kind of woman did not attract men to
herself – she was more likely to cut them in half, or scare the hell out of them, to say
the least. She wasn’t deprived of feminine beauty whatsoever, but that wasn’t the first
thing about her that caught the eye. Her lips and nose were covered by an evidently
dirty handkerchief. The final touch to her unusual looks were the fearsome woman’s
eyes, which had a perfectly yellow iris locked between black pupils and more black
where the eyes should have been white, and, finally, her eyelids were pitch-black as
well, and something about them gave out the definite impression that this was not in
the least bit make-up. This was a woman you didn’t see every day.
The peculiar, to say the least, woman stared at Ivaylo disapprovingly for a minute
or two, then sneezed, snarled a few words under her breath that couldn’t be caught,
then walked over to him and grabbed him unceremoniously by the hand. Ivaylo looked
up at her in wonder, not because there were many things that could astonish him
(except for probably seeing such a woman appear out of nowhere in his living room),
but mostly because there weren’t that many women where he lived that he actually had
to, literally, look up to. She was really damn tall.
‘Come on now,’ commanded the woman coldly, in a deep, yet feminine voice,
one that was very suitable for a certain type of phone calls, but was even better for
giving orders to strangers. Her steely, long-nailed grip helped too. ‘Don’t waste my
time. Follow me, and don’t you try pulling away or running away, ‘cause you’re gonna
get at least one limb broken if you try, and I have to get you there in one piece.’
Ivaylo did not try to run away, scream, or ask stupid questions. He wasn’t that
kind of a person. Why did there need to a reaction when your view on the world
changed, he often thought. The world goes on as it always was – you went on as a
changed man. There was nothing stunning about that. According to that logic, the
world had not changed, to Ivaylo. It had not really become more frightening, more
extraordinary, or more interesting. It was he that had suddenly become more interested
in it.
Still, as much as he didn’t enjoy falling into clichés, certain obligatory questions
needed to be asked, and he asked them. But only because he really wanted to know
their answers.
The armed bossy woman dragged him to the living room’s exit, where there had
until recently been a door, and even though her hostage didn’t resist, she was still
dragging him, just for the fun of it.
‘Here’s how it goes,’ she began impatiently while they were rushing down the
stairs, slipping on the mud and tripping over abandoned pieces of weaponry. ‘I’m
picking you up, taking you to a safer location. That’s what I do, this is my job. They
pay me to go find someone and take them somewhere else – or kill them, which is
most often the case. As you can probably tell. Think of me as a paid hunter – ’
‘Or a hitman,’ Ivaylo suggested. ‘Hitwoman… isn’t that what you are?’
‘No! Shut up, please. You understand nothing. You think you do, but you don’t.’

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 ‘I believe I understand more than you think…’ the young man began, but the
hitwoman interrupted:
‘No, you don’t. The situation in your world is critical right now, and so is yours.
And yes, if you are still too blind to see it, let me tell you that your precious world is
not the only one around, that’s for sure.’
‘Yeah, I kind of figured that out…’
‘You’ve figured out nothing. You’ll be in real trouble if we don’t hurry, because
I’ll probably have to kill you after all then, so dammit, walk… Oh, forget it.’ She
raised her reluctant companion by the neck, threw him carelessly on her shoulder like
he was lighter than a feather, and proceeded with greater speed and aggression in her
step. ‘I’m here to protect you from yourself, and from everyone else. Look around.
There is no one here to protect you from me. And trust me, you’d better keep that in
mind.’ They strode – well, the hitwoman strode – on and on past parks and train
stations, restaurants and clothing stores. The sky seemed to have gotten a little bit
darker. ‘Things are real bad – you are not allowed to know anything more. You’ll soon
be brought to people you know – and you needn’t know anything more about that,
either. And you can scream if you like, but your kidnapping will not be noted, because
no one here is capable of seeing me – including you. But thanks to the little concoction
I fed your nervous system just a few minutes ago, congratulations, you can see and
hear me now, and nobody can hear or see you. We’re not going to be in your world
anymore, kid. You’re in for a treat. Okay now, you can start screaming.’
Ivaylo saw no point in screaming since there was no one to hear him. To him,
this was a new experience, nothing more, and he treasured all new experiences.
Classifying them as good or bad was something only simple, ordinary people did. Not
that he was extraordinary, of course. But, on the other hand, how could he, or anyone,
help but grow a bigger ego if a hitwoman from another world was sent to kidnap him,
and not somebody else?
The hitwoman seemed to have read his mind.
‘Don’t flatter yourself,’ she growled, ‘it’s just that someone you know cares
about you and wants to keep you safe. It’s got nothing to do with you being special or
anything. You’re not going to pass out on me, are you? Why ain’t you screaming?’
Ivaylo shrugged while the landscape suddenly turned from foggy and urban to
rainy and rural.
‘I don’t think it will make any difference,’ he confessed peacefully.
‘Well, it’s good for your health, you know. So I’d advise you that you did it
before we got there. Where we’re going they don’t like screaming in their ears all that
much. They hear things pretty well.’
‘And they are?’ the hostage inquired. If anything was stirring his soul at the
moment, it was curiosity.
‘Oh, you’ll see. They’re people you know, like I said. I’m not supposed to tell
you more.’
He sighed disappointedly.
‘Aw well,’ he continued calmly, ‘an easier question: who are you, then?’
The woman grunted.
‘You can call me Rheetah. That’s my name.’
‘Okay, Rita. Got it.’

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 ‘No, not Rita, dammit! Rheetah! It’s a long vowel.’
‘Rheeeetah. Does that sound any better?’
‘Yes. So here are the rules: I am your bodyguard. You’re not allowed to talk back
to me. You’re not allowed to stare at me. You’re not allowed to question my actions.
You’re not allowed to do whatever I say you are not allowed to do. You are allowed to
scream, be freaked out by me and whatever else you like, and tell me if someone is
following us. You are allowed to ask for food and water. You are allowed to move
whenever I tell you it is okay.’
‘Am I allowed to move now?’
‘No.’
‘Aren’t you being a little harsh?’
‘You are not allowed to criticize the way I treat you. You’re not allowed to give
me a headache either, and you’re doing that right now.’
‘Well, I was just saying that you could be a little less – ’
‘Bitchy? Yeah. I know. Well, I don’t think you have the right to complain. They
told me they’d picked me for the job because you liked bitchy girls, and I told them
that in that case you were going to just love me. Ain’t that ironic?’
‘I suppose…’
‘Shut up, please. We’ll be there in an hour. And I have enough problems already
to bear through your pointless interrogation for a whole hour.’
This experience was all too interesting for Ivaylo, and all the more annoying for
his personal strange policewoman.
‘What sort of problems do you have?’ he asked.
‘At the moment,’ Rheetah groaned irritably, ‘the number one problem on my list
is you.’

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 Chapter Thirteen
Savrax The Vampire

‘Have they arrived yet?’ I asked, worried and nervous.

‘Any minute now,’ Leonard announced, even though he didn’t own a watch. The
clocks in his mansion were just for decoration, too, and had probably stopped working
in the age they’d been constructed in. ‘Hurry up, Dracula,’ he turned condescendingly
to Valerius, who was placing his final touch on the newly installed shelves, ‘we’ll be
having guests in no time! I can smell them from here!’
‘They must bathe really rarely for someone like you to be able to smell them,’
Valerius replied mechanically, completely failing to be humiliated by Leonard. ‘There,
it’s done,’ he beamed. ‘Did you prepare a pen and a notebook to give autographs yet,
Leonard?’
‘Ha, ha!’ the other vampire snarled. ‘Very funny. Good thing nobody knows
you.’
‘He’s right, though,’ Huckleberry agreed distractedly, perfuming up his scarlet
suit for the evening and fumbling around the cupboards for a comb or a brush. ‘We
have to look our best. I’ve never done this before. Do you think I need to tie my hair,
or is it alright as it is?’ he wondered, anxious and paler than usual.
‘I’ve done this too many times, Huck, and there is nothing scary about it,’
Leonard assured him. ‘It’s all about the flair. And… what was it called… aplomb, yes.
You look gorgeous, my friend.’
‘Who’s coming to visit, the Queen of England?’ Valerius raised a skeptical
eyebrow. ‘What’s all this fuss about?’
‘Um, nothing, really,’ I lied. I was just as troubled and shaking as Huck was. ‘It’s
just some, um, friends coming over.’
‘Are they the Queen of England?’
‘No, it’s… a different matter. It’s complicated,’ I mumbled, and hurried to look
away. Meeting Valerius’ mild, scrutinizing stare, which nothing could escape, was the
last thing I needed right now. ‘You’ll figure it out for yourself soon enough.’
Leonard was changing in a white shirt with puffy sleeves, a black vest, and black
trousers, his hair tied back with a discreet black ribbon. He had decided to be formal
and elegant tonight.
‘It’s going to be so much fun,’ he forecasted eagerly. ‘Wera, aren’t you going to
dress up for the occasion? Come on, I’ve bought you this beautiful blue dress… We’re
going to celebrate tonight!’
‘Uhm, no thanks, I’ll just stick with jeans and a blouse,’ I shook my head
modestly. ‘I don’t want to stand out too much. After all, it is you and Huck who will
be the center of attention tonight, so…’
‘As you wish,’ the vampire conceded reluctantly, ‘but the next time we have a
proper party, you will be in formal wear. I’m still your host, after all. Anyway, people,
take your places, and be good to the guests! I want no screw-ups whatsoever!’
‘What are we supposed to do again?’ asked Valerius.

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 ‘Just play dead, it won’t be too hard for you. And…’ There was a loud knock on
the front door which boomed throughout the mansion. A regular human being
wouldn’t have heard or even felt it in the distance, but I had picked up a few things
since I’d got here. ‘Here they are! Be nice, everyone… looking good, Huck… Wera,
come with me. We’ll greet them first, as I’m the landlord, and you are, well, the
visitors’ link to humanity!’
With a wink, he sent me walking in front of him towards the wooden gates. It
was as bad as sending me to slaughter.
On my way out, I couldn’t conceive how I could possibly do something as
disastrous as shaking the basics of the world of someone I had known for years. Of
course, deep down inside I knew that that would be the exact thing I’d want done to
me, had I been in Ivaylo’s shoes. Anyone like him, or like me, would dare fantasize
about such a thing at least once in their lifetime. But there was a difference between
fantasy and reality, and that was exactly the thing that made the fantasy, the
unachievable dream, seem so terribly attractive. There were rules. There had to be a
line between fantasy and reality. And soon, in a single moment equally charged with
pride, elation and regret, I would destroy that border for my friend forever…
Maybe he’d be mad, I thought, or maybe he’d be frightened. Or, maybe, he’d be
insanely happy about it, happy enough for his mind to forget to grasp the danger,
which was the reaction I was hoping for, and the reaction I myself had had when
everything changed to me and I saw a world before me that was an escape instead of a
hell…
To my greatest relief, I didn’t see him when I opened the door. I wasn’t ready to
feel so guilty. Instead, there was a weary-looking woman in battle wear, and the
moment I saw her, before I had seen her scars, or eyes, or anything more specific
about her, a stream of information ran through my blood like electricity, without even
consulting the brain, and I was completely aware of what her problem was…
‘You are…’ I began, incapable of finishing the sentence. I blushed a little, even
though my mind didn’t see a logical reason for me to be embarrassed. Still, I felt like I
had discovered a well-kept secret. ‘You’re…’
‘Yeah,’ the woman nodded curtly, then shrugged in embarrassment almost equal
to mine. ‘I’m like you. Only moreso. There’s not much I can do about it. And, it shows
all the damn time.’
‘I think it looks rather good on you,’ I smiled encouragingly at her, lowering my
voice. ‘Leonard must have hinted at it, but I didn’t think he was serious about it…’
Unconfidently, like a schoolgirl, the woman smiled back at me.
‘I’m glad to see someone who… understands, to an extent,’ she said in her deep,
soothing voice. ‘We should hang out, sometime next week, maybe.’
‘Um, sure,’ I shrugged, looking anxiously around to spot my guest anywhere
nearby. ‘Why next week?’
‘You’re new to this, aren’t you? You’ll see why. Oh, as for your guest
whatshisname,’ the woman continued distractedly, ‘I told him we’d be here in an hour,
but he must have thought I was talking about an earthly hour, and not a lunar hour…
He fell asleep, and we had to hitchhike, ‘cause it’s always harder when they’re
asleep… I’ll go get him, shall I?’
‘Okay… sure.’

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 She disappeared into the thick moist darkness and returned quickly with my
friend Ivaylo – otherwise known as Savrax – in hand. He appeared tired and confused,
but brightened up when he saw a familiar face.
‘I must say, I didn’t expect to see you here,’ he said to me after we’d said “hi”. I
responded with a guilty smile. ‘All of this seems a little… childish,’ he added. ‘This
isn’t a trick anyone is pulling on us, is it?’
I swallowed hard. Here it comes…
‘No. No, it’s not a trick. I’m… quite used to it, actually. Feel free to come in. My
hosts are waiting for you.’
‘Me? Why? There’s a lot of things that need clarification,’ Savrax noted as we
proceeded into the main hallway after Rheetah. I cringed.
‘To be honest, I am not entirely sure what’s going on right now either… I just
know that something’s not the way it should be where… um… where we live, and this
is, at this point, a safer place to be.’
‘Not to say anything against the credibility of this statement,’ Savrax began
doubtfully, ‘but we have just entered a castle that has gargoyles on it.’
I looked at him briefly. He didn’t seem all that frightened. If anything, he seemed
amused.
There was an awkward silence.
‘So,’ he tried to play along with whatever script was unraveling here, ‘are you
also here for, um, your safety?’
‘No. I came here on holiday.’
‘On holiday? Isn’t this place a little too rainy to be a tourist resort? Nice
architecture, though,’ he added with a note of approval in his voice. ‘Where are we,
exactly, by the way?’
‘As far as I know, it’s a place called Laurington,’ I stated nervously.
‘That sounds good enough. Really impressive buildings, I must admit. And…
you’re staying here on holiday all by yourself?’
‘Oh, no, that’s a friend’s house, actually…’
Savrax raised an eyebrow in a little less than amazement.
‘Wow! I’d certainly like to meet that friend of yours. Judging by the landscape,
this could be England, or Scotland, maybe, but of course, this is impossible.’
‘Quite. No, we’re not in England or Scotland at all. And yes, you will meet that
friend of mine very soon. He’s expecting you. Not in a bad way,’ I added quickly,
‘he’s really excited to see you, and, um…he’s a very… nice guy. Kind of…’
‘You’re staying on holiday at a guy friend of yours all alone?’
I hurriedly shook my head in an attempt to disperse all doubts and wrong
assumptions.
‘No, there are a few of his friends here too. They’re sort of visiting him too.
You’ll probably like them, they’re… interesting people. He’s got a daughter, too,’ I
added, hoping the sharing of this fact would make my mysterious friend appear more
mature and trustworthy. ‘We’re almost there, just to the right…’
Ivaylo was exploring the exquisite works of art, torches and candelabras that the
walls of the corridors were richly adorned with. I was exploring the floor.
‘How come you never told me about this friend of yours?’ he wondered. ‘You
should have. I mean, do you trust him? He looks very rich… so, that’s, like, a resort

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spot, isn’t it? Interesting, medieval on the outside, all Renaissance on the inside… This
is his holiday spot, I assume? It looks too genuine to be a tourist attraction…’
‘That’s the house he lives in.’
‘No kidding? What else can you tell me about this guy?’
I could no longer stand the questions, so I didn’t reply. I was about to do
something horrifying to a person’s soul, something forbidden, something altogether
tempting and thrilling.
‘We’re here. Well, you can ask him yourself, although you probably know a bit
about him…’
‘Sorry? What do you mean by that?’ I left the question hanging, and I knocked
on a wide black door. The moment it did, it creaked open. It was as if the host had felt
us approach. And he had.
Dazzling yellow light poured into the dim corridor from within, revealing a
living room lit by hundreds of burning candles. The edge of a long dining table,
freshly polished, could be seen through the crack of the halfway opened door, and
merely a second later a person overshadowed it, slid gracefully out into the corridor,
stood with equal grace before us and grinned. He wasn’t exceptionally tall, but he was
sharp dressed, in the spirit of an epoch long gone, and he was handsome enough to
make nearly any lady swoon over his appearance. He had blond hair and bright eyes
alight with joy, and last but not least, his canine teeth were a good deal longer than
they were supposed to be. He extended an elegant, pianist hand towards my friend
Ivaylo and greeted him, with impeccable gallantry and just a light shade of
playfulness, into the world of a forbidden fantasy:
‘Ah, Savrax. Please feel welcome to join us for dinner. It’s such a pleasure to
meet you at last. I’m Leonard, by the way – but you can call me Leslie…’

***

‘May I have a word with you in private?’

‘Yes, of course you can.’
We walked to a inconspicuous corner. I attempted to appear as innocent as spring
dew. It didn’t work.
Ivaylo looked at me intently.
‘I’m not stupid, you know,’ he whispered in a strange, tense voice. ‘This is way
too expensive to be a joke. That guy over there is way too perfect to be some kind of
cosplayer. And his fangs most definitely aren’t fake. I’ll be damned, but this is actually
Leonard the vampire!’ His eyes widened, because even someone like him could
remain indifferent towards only so much. ‘I mean, the Leonard the vampire! Do you
have any idea what this means?’
‘Yes,’ I whined quietly. ‘That I’m a terrible friend to you.’
‘Damn right you are!’
‘I know. I should have never let you see this. It’s not how it should be, but I had
little choice…’
‘Are you kidding me? How could you do this? How long have you known him?’
‘I dunno… a few years, maybe?’ I hesitated.
‘A few years?! How could you have never told me about him?!’

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 I ventured to look up, and my jaw dropped in amazement at the last line I heard.
‘What?’
‘Well, I mean, you should have told me earlier! Hiding this from me… it’s not
just a sin. It’s a downright crime!’
My friend Savrax was standing in front of me with a “it’s-my-birthday”
expression on his face, with only a slight hint of “I-wish-my-birthday-had-come-
earlier”. I felt an enormous amount of relief pour over me.
‘Well,’ I breathed out rather than spoke, ‘can you really see this happening? How
could I have explained something like that to you? It would sound loony, at the least!’
‘I don’t care, you should have tried… I would have found a way to understand…
My Gosh, Leonard the vampire! This is a wild dream come true!’ He hesitated. ‘Um,
wait, that would be the same Leonard who did all the things he did, didn’t he?’
‘Yeah,’ I nodded, and then hurried to make a reassuring comment: ‘But don’t
worry, he won’t kill, harm or seduce any of us. But you should be alert about the
seducing bit, because I am really not so sure.’
I turned away and headed in the direction of the table in the living room. Savrax
stopped me a second later.
‘Wait,’ he exclaimed, ‘what am I supposed to say to him? After all, he’s among
the people I’ve wanted to meet even though it was obviously impossible… until
now… You know, a person can always go wrong with this…’
‘I wouldn’t worry about that if I were you,’ I felt calm enough to cast an
encouraging smile at him. ‘Just let him do the talking at first, and he’ll make you feel
at ease. He’s very hospitable; he knows how you must be feeling, and he will make
you the star of the evening.’
‘Wow… this is truly… interesting. Is he aware of all of that, by the way? That he
is an icon? That there are tons of books written about him? Man, I’ll probably have to
read them all over again after this…’
‘I thought you were never going to read another vampire novel,’ I smirked
triumphantly. Ivaylo waved his hands in an impatient gesture.
‘Vampire novels?! These are no novels! Do you call a novel something that’s
standing right before you? Holy hell, that’s Leonard the vampire!’

***

‘At long last!’ Leonard exclaimed, his charm and flair turned to the highest level.
He placed a gentle hand on the guest’s back and led him to the heftily candlelit dining
table. Four figures stood up instantly as he approached. ‘Isn’t this a memorable
moment? Please feel at home, dear boy, and help yourself to whatever you want…
You’re not offended by me calling you “boy”, are you? I’m sorry, it’s a habit; after all,
you’re just about four hundred and eighty years younger than me… And is there a gift
more delightful than youth, really? Good God, this is delightful. I’ve heard so much
about you!’
‘I’ve heard a whole lot more about you,’ Savrax replied, while he was
surrounded by several graceful, fanged figures, dressed up as though they were going
to attend a ball.

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 ‘If you’ve heard anything good, it’s just rumors,’ a mischievous smile flew
briefly through Leonard’s face. ‘Come on, don’t be shy… There are a few people I’d
like you to meet…’ Huck marched forth in a series of movements speaking of chivalry
and class. ‘This is my good friend Huck Cleanwood,’ the blond vampire introduced
them without so much as a shade of irony. ‘Eighty years we terrorized the world
together, and I’ve terrorized him about twice as much, haven’t I, Huck?’
‘It’s a true honor to meet you,’ Huck greeted, and extended a hand nobly. ‘Any
friend of Wera’s is a friend of mine. May I have the honor of knowing your name as
well, young man?’
Ivaylo decided to introduce himself in a manner that fit the circumstances.
‘Savrax,’ he said briefly, ‘that’s what my friends usually call me. Pardon me, but
have you by any chance happened to be known, at some point, as Francois?’
‘Savrax,’ Leonard smiled, and indignantly slapped Huck in the chest area with
the back of his hand. ‘See, Huck? The boy already knows how things work around
here. Savrax. I like the sharp, daredevil sound of it. Why couldn’t you come up with a
more plausible vampire name than your birth name, Huck?’
Huck frowned, and preferred to ignore the comment.
‘No, I’m sorry, Sir Savrax, I never did go by the name of Francois. But I have the
feeling I am still the same person you may be referring to.’
‘The author must have changed his name in the book,’ Leonard leaned forward to
his guest and whispered loudly in his ear, ‘and a wise decision it was. When you add
the suffix “the vampire” after a certain vampire’s name, that makes him more than an
ordinary vampire. This makes him a noble, yet fearsome creature known throughout
the vampire world, spreading equal amounts of awe and fear in the members of his
community. But I am sure you already know that very well. This is why it is always
very important to bear a name that truly conducts awe and respect. Something with the
sound of “Huckleberry the vampire” just won’t do. Now, Savrax the vampire…’
Savrax turned to me with an expression of pride on his face, but I couldn’t react
to it as I was stifling grin after grin like crazy. My mind was still stuck at the sound of
“Sir Savrax.”
‘And this is Valerius. He’s creepy, a nuisance, and he’s not keeping up with the
times, obviously.’ A tall, thin silhouette draped in black velvet loomed over my friend
and examined him thoroughly. Savrax responded with a spiteless stare.
‘Lovely to meet your friend, Vera,’ he said with his perpetual mini-smirk. This
time it was Savrax’s turn to laugh at me. He had every reason to. I wasn’t called Vera
for nothing. ‘And, how positively intriguing,’ Valerius added with a twist of his
eyebrow, ‘we’ve got ourselves a genuine little nocturner here, don’t we?’
‘A what?’ the guest inquired suspiciously. Perhaps he assumed it might be some
sort of an offense in vampire slang. ‘What’s a nocturner?’
‘A nocturner, dear boy,’ Leonard began softly, as he helped his most recent
visitor to a rather aristocratic chair in the very center of the small crowd, ‘is what you
are. In a word, you have a little something of a vampire about you – now, don’t bother
trying to deny it, – something cored deeply in your subconscience, something you’ve
probably always blamed on band choice and an affinity for alternative literature. But
it’s not a joke at all, and believe me, hardly anyone with your taste for music and
literature can call themselves nocturners. There are many unconfirmed theories when it

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comes to this. Some say it happens at random, some say it is destiny, some say it is a
rare psychological event that has little or nothing to do with genetics… but can I say,
from personal experience, that this place changes you, Savrax. It really does, it’s just
purely magical. Stay here for a few days, and you will see what I mean.’
I cast a concerned glance at Leonard. He pretended that he hadn’t seen it.
Valerius, in his typical malevolent manner, cackled ominously as he was sitting
himself at the table. Huck nudged him in the ribs.
‘That charming little lady in pink you’re looking at,’ Leonard continued, ‘is my
lovely daughter Elizabeth. Isn’t she beautiful? And, last but not least, I am confident
you already know Rheetah. She’s been so kind to ensure your safety during your trip
and stay here,’ he explained. Rheetah nodded morbidly in response.
‘In exchange for payment and condescension,’ she muttered. She was still in her
battle clothing, helping herself to a large steak.
‘She’s definitely got character, doesn’t she?’ Leonard grinned. ‘Don’t worry,
though, you’ll get to know other sides of her in the next few days. Please, help
yourself to anything you like, young man,’ he urged. ‘You didn’t think we vampires
had no cooked food to offer, did you? We’re not creatures that lowly, after all! And we
will try to make you feel as comfortable as you can with us.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Savrax began, still staring in wonder at the vampiric scene that was
expanding before his incredulous eyes, ‘but can I ask something? You’re Leonard the
vampire, right?’
‘That’s right,’ Leonard nodded gleefully.
‘And you’re… you’re his, um, companion, if that’s the right word for it?’
‘Partner in crime, yes,’ Huck sighed gloomily. ‘Used to be. Now, I am just a
friend. I did most of the things I regret in my afterlife because he talked me into them.
He’s out of his mind, beneath his gallant exterior. But what can I say – look at him,
and the charmer he is. You can never be mad at him for more than five years. For us,
that’s less than an overnight.’
This was all too real to everyone. Only to the vampires it was a game.
‘You have to tell me more. About you, about your life…’ Ivaylo insisted. ‘I need
to know how much of what I know of you is true, and how much isn’t. I know you
might not see a reason to tell me all of this, as you’re, well, you’re probably tired of
people asking you about these things, but I’d be really grateful if you shared a few
things with me. And, if you didn’t kill me after telling me,’ he joked. I laughed, but
only because I knew them. Valerius didn’t laugh.
‘Why would we kill you, boy?’ Leonard blinked innocently at his guest. ‘You’re
a fascinating young man, and you’re practically one of ours! We’ll tell you everything
you’d like to know, even the embarrassing details… like, I barely know any French,
for instance. And then, I would like to hear about you. I don’t want to go on all night
about Huck and myself, now, would I? Now, let’s begin this evening properly: I
propose a toast,’ ‘he raised his glass filled with a rich crimson-colored liquid. ‘To
Savrax the vampire, our new visitor, friend and roommate. May he spend many a
wonderful day in the chambers of this mansion – and many a wonderful night, too!
Carpe Noctem!’
‘Carpe Noctem!’ cheered the rest of the fanged guests at the table.
Savrax reached cautiously towards the elegant glass in front of him.

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 ‘It’s not blood, is it?’ he laughed, and everybody at the table laughed with him.
‘Relax, it’s wine you will be toasting with tonight,’ Leonard assured him, and
that glint in his eye reappeared, the one when he was overexcited or out hunting.
Something about it bothered me, and I watched the vampire intently, in case he had
something in mind. ‘The best and oldest one we have here, mind you. And it is spiced
with a secret ingredient,’ he added, and his bright eyes went ablaze. ‘Try it, you will
not regret it.’
Savrax brought the glass to his lips, cheered his new-found company likewise,
and took a slow test sip.
‘It’s got a little bit of a…’
‘…sting, yes,’ Leonard agreed. I looked at him accusatively. He reflected my
troubled glance and responded to it, his look pure, sincere and only slightly disturbed
to see me feeling uneasy. It was not unlike trying to see the back side of a mirror
through the glass. Leonard cast a warm, reassuring smile at me, then turned to his
guest again in his best and kindest disposition, and explained readily: ‘It does taste a
little rusty, but that’s the charm of it. Without it, it would have been too wonderful,
wouldn’t it? Drink up, dear boy. Savor every drop. In time, you’ll come to grow
fonder and fonder of the taste.’

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 Chapter Fourteen
Two Moons

R heetah was standing by the window of the bedroom on the west side of the
mansion, hungrily breathing in the fresh scent of rain outside, staring at the moonless
sky and frowning as determinately as though she would never be allowed to do it
again.
‘What’s wrong?’ Savrax asked her, puzzled and exhausted. ‘You’ve been sulking
over there for hours.’
‘Oh, nothing, I’m just thinking about Leonard,’ the scarred woman muttered
through gritted teeth, ‘and how much of a bastard he is.’
‘Bastard?’ the recently enlightened nocturner exclaimed. ‘What makes you think
that? He’s brilliant in many ways, if you ask me. A brilliant, exquisite monster. But
you can’t call him a bastard; he treats you just as well as he does everyone else.’
Rheetah snorted angrily.
‘A downright bastard is what he is, and what he always will be,’ she repeated in
an implacable, steely voice. ‘If I wasn’t paying him, I’d shove my fist in his face like
nothing.’
‘What gives you the right to say that? He’s a kind person, and yes, he is a
vampire, so it’s in his nature to be an animal every now and then… but we spoke, and
he really knows what he’s talking about, and why am I saying this to you anyway?
You’re a sour hitwoman. You kill people for money. Who are you to talk about
Leonard being a bastard?’
‘I don’t kill people,’ Rheetah objected. ‘I kill those who deserve to be killed. And
don’t get me started on Leonard’s flair and charm, and all that jazz. He corrupts
everyone, that’s what I say. He enchants people with words until they can’t think
straight. My ears started aching of hearing you two lovebirds talk throughout the entire
dinner.’ She imitated their voices, cruelly and shrilly. “Oh, you’re so very right, that’s
what I kept telling them – people these days just don’t have the slightest bit of concept
of beauty!”… “Oh, yes, right and wrong are little more than two different, equally
valid perspectives.”… “The problem with the present is people keep obstinately seeing
the world the way it should work, and not the way it really works. It’s all about
making the most of every breath while you’re still breathing.”… “Oh, you should have
seen the plague – from a distance, of course – it was a blast, we had such good laughs
then. Ah, those were the good days.” I know his speeches by heart. Every sentence
starts with an “Oh” or an “Ah”. He makes me sick,’ Rheetah concluded. ‘All vampires
do.’
‘I don’t see anything wrong with his views on the world,’ Ivaylo defended his
new fanged friend. ‘His ideology is broader and fairer than most ones I’ve heard so
far. It leaves no room for prejudice, it presents everything as it is… You, on the other
hand, seem to be just a little prejudiced…’
‘Oh, come on, you sound just like him already!’ hissed Rheetah the minute she
was being criticized. ‘He’s going to turn you into a copy of himself in no-time… the
way he does everyone else. The weak-minded, that is. Fools. He’ll dress you up in no-

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time and there you have it, we’ll have another bloodsucker who thinks he is God on
the loose.’
‘You sound familiar, you know that,’ Savrax estimated thoughtfully, and
yawned. ‘Anyway, would you terribly mind leaving now? I’ve had a strange,
rewarding, but still tiring day, and I would just like to make a phone call and go to bed,
if you don’t mind.’
‘Phones don’t work here,’ Rheetah muttered distractedly. ‘Don’t worry, you
won’t be missed where you live. I mean, they won’t even know you’re gone. And am
to ensure that you will return safely where you came from, in one piece, even if
completely corrupted by Leonard.’
‘Well, would you mind leaving anyway, then? Leonard won’t be able to corrupt
me until tomorrow.’
‘I’d love to leave, trust me. But I have to guard you, day and night. Well, most
nights, anyway. Tonight, for sure.’
Savrax groaned and retreated to a corner of the bedroom he was given during his
stay, one heavily adorned with candelabras, burgundy satin sheets and curtains, and
miniature engravings of gargoyles and such other creatures. Some things never went
out of fashion in that world.
‘So you’re saying, I can’t be alone, can I?’
Rheetah demonstratively pulled up a chair from the other end of the room and sat
on it, facing its back, in a rather masculine way.
‘I have to protect you from potential attacks.’
‘But nobody knows me here! Who are you going to protect me from, wicked
vampire women lurking in the night sky looking for lost mortal travelers to seduce?’
‘I will especially ardently protect you from them.’
‘Thanks very much,’ Rheetah’s main problem and responsibility grunted and
covered himself with the dark red sheets. She sighed.
When she sensed she was the only one awake in the room, she continued sighing
and occasionally sobbing, a little more loudly, knowing it was something she could
very rarely do, even in private, and she had to cherish every brief moment when she
could let out her sorrow. She rarely got the chance to sigh over her own problems.
The sky was starless and completely dark. She found that relieving. There was
nothing scary in the darkness for Rheetah. Usually, she could out-scare even the
scariest things in the dark. The only person she couldn’t out-scare was herself.
Because, when it came to the relationship between Rheetah and herself, each side
had more than enough to be afraid of.

***

‘Good morning.’
‘Morning.’
‘How are you? Are you intact? Everything okay? No strange feeling in your gut
or anything?’ Rheetah persisted the very next bleak morning.
‘Yes, I am perfectly alright,’ Savrax assured her. ‘Please, what could have
possible happened?’
‘Anything. Listen, there’s something I need to speak to you about…’

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 ‘Okay, I’ll talk to you later. I must hurry, though, because Leonard is taking me
hunting today, and I really don’t want to be late…’
‘Nobody is going hunting!’
I overheard their conversation and ran towards them in panic from the other side
of the hallway. Ivaylo stared at me, confused and curious.
‘Please,’ I implored, ‘don’t go hunting with him. It’s… it’s not what you
think…’
‘I’m not thinking anything,’ Savrax admitted, brimming with interest now that
what he’d intended to do was forbidden. ‘I know I’ll be surprised. That’s why I want
to go.’
‘Yes, but…’ I tried to find the right words. ‘Leonard has a thing about him… he
tries to rub his own personality and bad habits off on everyone else, and he is
successful. And going hunting with him…’
‘I can’t see why becoming like him is such a terribly bad thing,’ my friend
shrugged. ‘I’m not off to become a bloodthirsty butcher. Leonard said the hunt was
perfectly legal and – he specifically clarified – morally harmless. So, if you don’t
mind, I would really like to go.’
‘You’re not going,’ Rheetah said sternly. ‘That’s final. I’m your bodyguard, and
I’ve decided it isn’t safe for you to go hunting with Leonard. No questions allowed.
Come on. We’re having waffles for breakfast. Waffles are good for you. Hunting with
Leonard isn’t.’
I gratefully exhaled when Rheetah left with the protesting Savrax caught in her
unyielding grip. I had already caused enough mental damage to my friend. Now, he
would never be able to look on our own world the same way – or, in the worst case,
keep all of his memories of the event. He could live with that, that was for sure. But I
could never let Leonard give him a taste of the beast as well.
There was nothing quite like it. I had been poisoned with the taste of the beast
even since that hunt I’d gone to, and time was moving fast in this world. Things were
changing, and so were people. Nobody would leave here the same, let alone me. The
taste of the beast… it had to be forbidden. I had tried not to think about it during the
past few weeks, and the storm of disasters that had occurred meanwhile had kept my
mind off it for good. But now, it was returning, with a rush of new blood in mine, new
winds haunting the same grounds, new thrills passing through the same centers in the
brain. And it was all just like last time.
Irresistible.
That’s why I had waffles for breakfast, chatted with Rheetah and Valerius for
about half an hour, as Huck and Leonard were busy being interviewed by Savrax, and
then my friend, his bodyguard, Huck and Valerius went out for a cruise around town
and the local shops, and I went hunting with Leonard, willingly or not, I didn’t know,
because there were some dark, wicked things sticking even to the purest soul that
simply couldn’t be defeated.

***

The week rolled towards its end quicker than I had expected it to. I was a little
amazed to see how well things seemed to be going. My friend seemed to be enjoying

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himself to the fullest and felt completely at home in the company of – well, the fans of
the redder drinks. It was not at all surprising; after all, I did too. Leonard was feeling a
genuine fascination with his new nocturner friend. He kept taking him to different
places, night after night, that he claimed I wouldn’t enjoy seeing, which bore names
like “The Razor Club”, “Blue Light”, or “Enoxicated”. I had morbid suspicions about
the type of places they were – you probably had to be two hundred or older to enter –
and did not risk going there with them. Huck would accompany them in most cases,
just to make sure things didn’t get out of control. In the evenings, I spent more time at
the mansion with Rheetah and Valerius, who labeled these places as lowly and far
beneath his dignity.
‘I really don’t understand why you are all so worried,’ he kept saying to Rheetah
and me, calmer than any person I’d ever seen. ‘One doesn’t get corrupted so easily.
And if he does, then he has been corrupt to begin with.’
‘Great,’ I nodded with grim sarcasm the last time he said it. ‘That’s super.
You’ve just made me feel a whole lot better.’
‘I wasn’t intending to, Vera.’
‘And please, stop calling me that.’
‘Why? It’s your name, isn’t it?’
‘That’s not how you pronounce it.’
‘No, I am very confident that it is you who pronounces it wrong,’ Valerius
disagreed confidently. ‘Looks like you’re not the only person who is irritable today,
though. Rheetah, what’s the matter this time? Still wailing on the inside over the fact
that you are a werewolf?’
There was a gravely silence, a gasp, and an intense hiss following that came from
Rheetah:
‘Shh!’ she scolded him, panicking. ‘Are you insane or just plain cruel? Someone
might hear you?’
Valerius eyed her with a lazy, jeering stare.
‘There’s nobody here but us. Besides, even if someone overheard you, so what?
Everybody knows anyway.’
‘No they don’t!’ Rheetah shrieked in embarrassment, blushing rapidly all over.
‘And who is it that doesn’t know it yet, if I may ask?’ mocked her Valerius
mercilessly. ‘Except for Liz, that is. Anyone else still in the dark about it?’
‘Well, the person I am supposed to guard, for one thing!’ the hitwoman insisted.
‘Hah! Don’t you think he’s figured it out by now? One can tell what you are
from miles away. Just look at yourself!’
‘I don’t believe that! He’d be freaked out if he knew. He wouldn’t want me
guarding him anymore if he knew the full moon was coming soon.’
‘It is?’ I exclaimed in wonder. If I were ever a proper werewolf, I’d be the most
absent-minded one in the world. I’d keep forgetting the dates of my lunar cycles. ‘That
explains everything.’
‘You poor, foolish creatures,’ Valerius purred condescendingly. Sometimes, his
habit of looking down on everyone was infuriating. ‘You don’t seem to get a thing, do
you? First of all, can’t you see that our dear guest Savrax doesn’t get freaked out
easily? Have you ever been to “The Razor Club”? If that doesn’t freak you out,
nothing will.’

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 ‘But… but he hasn’t been scared of me even once,’ astonished, Rheetah
mumbled, almost with regret. ‘I don’t get it. It’s not normal. People, vampires, and all
living or undead things, are normally either scared of me, or disgusted by me. And he,
who is on the border of the two, is merely slightly irritated by my bossiness!’
‘The kid’s perfectly normal; you’re not,’ Valerius estimated. ‘You should stop
being amazed by that and try to see how much your life could improve if you
improved your behavior towards others. You expect the worst of everyone, you attack
before you’ve been attacked, and that ruins every chance of making a friend for you in
advance.’
He was, of course, perfectly right, but Rheetah was not going to agree with
something a vampire had said to her anytime in her lifetime.
‘It’s not like you have that many friends, Count Dracula!’ she barked. ‘And,
besides, you have no idea what it’s like to be… what I am.’
‘I have a very clear idea what it’s like being a vampire, and I don’t go on about
how awful it is night and day, darling,’ Valerius retorted with that same infuriating
peacefulness. ‘You’re not the only one here with a bloodthirst problem. If you think I
don’t get it, you can always talk to Vera – she doesn’t seem to be complaining too
much, are you, Vera?’
‘She indulges in it!’ Rheetah stood up abruptly from the table we were sitting at,
bristling, breathing heavily, and pointing an accusative clawed finger at me: ‘She
doesn’t try to restrain the beast within! Don’t you think I don’t know what she’s doing
when she is out hunting with Leonard! I try to restrain myself, and it is driving me
insane! She’s not worthy of being what she is!’
In the world of werewolves, this was probably equivalent to a slap across the
face, but my heart barely stirred at this accusation. I was evidently spending too much
time around vampires – or was just plain wicked, like I had suspected from the
beginning of my holiday.
‘I did,’ I responded with a blank, hollow voice when I felt Rheetah was finally
prepared to hear out my response. ‘I used to try to keep everything that was
bloodthirsty, vicious and filled with rage and hatred within me. Not just… the beast, as
you call it. Everything. I held everything back, for more than twenty years. It didn’t
lead to anything good, pure or noble. The innocence I had been trying to protect, the
image of myself that I had built in my own eyes, was shattered bit by bit by my own
compromises and sacrifices, which I had hoped would help preserve my virtue. And I
watched it all collapse, slowly but surely, until there was nothing left. And then,
suddenly, I stopped. I stopped fighting my darkest urges, because at some point there
was nothing left of me but them. I lost faith in everything else… and I just stopped
trying to hold myself back. I’ve been a lot happier ever since.’ I sighed, but this sigh
contained no emotion worth being called one. I was cold through and through. ‘And if
you decide to talk to me about guilt, you should know that I had guilt, lots of it, and it
was killing me. But blood washes away the guilt… sooner or later.’
Rheetah was standing there, staring unseeingly at me, petrified and dumbstruck.
‘I admire you, you know,’ I said to her. ‘You’ve managed to preserve your
innocence after all these years, unlike me. I’m through with this, for better or worse. I
regret it nearly every day, and yet I fear going back to it. To the way I was. It’s
something that kills you, day after day, but you love this kind of pain, because it

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makes you feel human – and you can’t live with yourself knowing you are a monster.
And I admire you, because you have a fair chance at not losing this blessed pain at all.
The flower you’re carrying with you, in your soul, won’t be stomped and crushed by
the first person who walks by. I hope it never withers with sorrow, either. Let’s just
say you’re good and strong, and I am bad and weak. You’ve chosen one path, and I
have chosen another after having walked yours for years. That’s about it. And I guess
I’ll always envy you for what you’ve got.’
After this touching little speech Valerius laughed like he had heard the most
ridiculous joke known to mankind. Obviously, he was a man full of respect, but
whatever respect he had, he directed all of it to himself, leaving nothing for the rest of
the world. He started laughing so hard he had to cover his mouth with both of his long,
black-nailed palms.
‘You two are creatures exceptionally stupid, that’s all I have to say on the
subject,’ he concluded with a small, remorseless smile, stood up and pulled up his
collar, which was high enough as it was. ‘No offense meant – that’s not because
you’re werewolves or semi-werewolves, it’s because you’re women. I’ll leave you to
your rambling; I hope you find comfort and drama in it that will satiate your hunger.’
With these words, he left us with the remains of the dinner and the wish to break
his neck.
‘I swear, the next time I see him, I’ll crack him in two like a twig,’ Rheetah
threatened as soon as he was gone, her blood boiling. ‘It’ll be almost too easy.’
‘Don’t,’ I grinned soothingly at her, ‘the world would then lose the single worst-
dressed vampire in it.’
‘You’re right, he’s not worth it. He’s just badmouthing everyone. Look, I’m
sorry about what I said before…’Rheetah began an awkward apology. ‘I had no idea…
I didn’t know…’
‘That my wicked choice was made for reasons other than a plain lack of a sense
of morality?’ I finished cheerfully. ‘No, that’s not the case. If anyone has cared about
morality more than anything else, it’s me. It’s just that… being moral beyond the point
that was bearable for me led to much, much more immoral things…’
‘You don’t have to explain… I get it,’ Rheetah’s mood seemed to have
improved for the first time since she’d set foot in Leonard’s mansion. ‘Listen, um…
we could go for a walk tomorrow night, just the two of us. You know – a moonlit
walk, you get the idea. There will be no killing, we’ll just go out to have a little bit of
good time… as girls. What do you say? If I can get Valerius to watch over Savrax just
this once…’
‘Sure thing, I’d love that,’ I smiled readily. ‘See? We have a reason now not to
kill Valerius after all,’ I winked at her. It had been a long time since I’d felt understood
by a girl, and in the end, to me, that was all Rheetah was.
She smiled meekly at me, displaying a pleasant side of her that I had never seen
before. I knew very well what power the slightest display of kindness had over her.
Werewolves were terribly lonely creatures, and they desperately needed to feel they
weren’t alone.
‘Why is he here in the first place?’ the werewolf woman inquired, finally getting
off the painful subject of her unfortunate fate. ‘He’s not exactly a good friend of
Leonard’s, is he?’

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 ‘No, they can’t stand each other. He’s actually here because of this,’ I pointed at
the pendant on the gold necklace I was wearing on a daily basis; I had grown strangely
fond of its curves and angles. ‘It’s originally his, but I, um, found it by accident. He
broke into Leonard’s house and tried to kill us all just to get it. Later on, they sort of
agreed not to kill each other, but, naturally, Leonard is still unwilling to forgive and
forget, and we’re not giving him the pendant until he tells us what the symbol really
means. And, he’s taking his time,’ I shrugged. Rheetah reached gently for the pendant
that hung on a thin golden chain from my neck, examined it thoughtfully in her hand,
and smirked.
‘Well, that’s easy.’
‘What’s the matter?’ I asked. ‘What’s easy?’
‘Oh, nothing,’ she replied, still grinning to herself, and then looked up at me with
her brimmed with black yellow eyes. ‘I just can’t believe you are waiting for Valerius
to tell you what this is when it is so simple, really.’
I nearly fell off my chair with excitement.
‘You mean this symbol is familiar to you?’
‘Of course,’ Rheetah nodded confidently. ‘It’s the ABC of being a werewolf. I
mean, no offense, you’re kind of new to the whole thing… It’s a very well-known
symbol among us, as is pretty much everything that has a moon, or moons, on it.
Vampires were never interested enough in our history, so naturally they wouldn’t
know much about it, they’d think it has something to do with planets…’
‘What does it have to do with, then?’ I was dying to know. I probably looked
silly, but something in me was telling me that I would never have completed my
purpose here until I learned what the symbol of the two moons crossing meant.
‘Well, it started as something related to astronomy, it’s true,’ the werewolf
woman explained. ‘See, here’s the waxing crescent, intertwined with the waning one.
You do know there are two moons here in our world, don’t you? But their cycles are
not identical, so, as one wanes, the other one waxes. The two can, naturally, never be
full at the same time. But they revolve in a very irregular way around our world, which
is much more influenced by the laws of magic than those of physics… ever wondered
how flowers get to grow here when there is no proper sun to rise every day? Anyway,
it is a little more than a legend that every once in a while – possibly, in a long while –
one moon waxing and one moon waning can meet in the sky, magically, and then you
get a lunar eclipse… like the one you have on Earth, only here the case is that one
moon overshadows the other completely. And that we call, well, at least our ancestors
used to call it that way… an equinox.’
That sounded a little less sensible than I had expected.
‘Equinox?’ I repeated dully. ‘But, how come? Isn’t the equinox, um, the time of
the year when the night and the day are equally long?’
‘In your world it is, yes,’ Rheetah giggled innocently at my cultural illiteracy as a
werewolf. ‘But you’re forgetting, there is no day here at all. So, according to the
ancient terminology of this world, the equinox is an equality of nights, instead of night
and day.’
‘But that doesn’t make that much sense, does it?’
‘It did to the previous generations. The length of the night then had spatial rather
than temporal interpretations. The nights of two moons – two lunar cycles – meet, and

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when they met at the same place in the sky, that meant that they are equally long,
meeting right in the middle. Like two pieces of fabric.’
‘I see…’
‘But that’s not the meaning the word “equinox” holds to us today, though,’
Rheetah shook her head to prevent my thought from going in the wrong direction.
‘Otherwise I would have thought Valerius to be quite the astronomer. Anyway, the
equinox, the old ones once said, was a magical planetary arrangement having nothing
to do with the cycles of the moons but rather with what was happening down there,
with the inhabitants in this world. It was believed – and somewhere it still is – that
creatures could influence the moons the way moons could influence creatures, just by
the way they interacted with each other. Sounds optimistic, doesn’t it? A single
person… or two… capable of changing the entire course of the world for one night…’
‘And how exactly would they achieve that?’ I asked impatiently. ‘What would it
take?’
‘It would take an equinox, in the sense of the word as we werewolves use it
today,’ the woman prompted. ‘An equinox – literally meaning “equal night” – is a
specific state of mind formed on the basis of a bond between two, or more, creatures of
the night. Their “nights”, their inner darkness, or hunger, or nocturnal call, or whatever
you call it, would have to be equal and the same in essence. And, in such a moment of
perfect understanding between two – or more – such creatures, the moment when they
sink into the darkness of each other’s worlds, each other’s souls… then, they say, an
equinox takes place in the sky too, regardless of which phase the moons are at this
point.’ Rheetah smiled shyly, slightly blushing when she spoke again: ‘To tell you the
truth, most of us think the part about more than two people is rubbish, invented by our
grandmothers and grandfathers to take their kids’ young minds off the subject of love.
But, me, I believe this is a strictly romantic idea. Believe it or not, werewolves are
very romantic creatures…’
‘I believe it,’ I said earnestly. I had long since drawn this conclusion on personal
experience. Indeed, werewolves, no-turners, and all the other wolf-oriented humanoids
were a little beyond hopeless romantics, and that had bitter consequences for them
when they were faced with the real, not the least bit romantic world.
‘Anyway, the old myths and legends have never mentioned quite how, or in what
circumstances, this can be achieved, and maybe that is exactly why most of us have
never seen, let alone evoked, an astronomical equinox. But, as for the psychological
equinox – the more important one – the old ones have described it, to their older kids,
of course, as the single deepest, most divine and emotionally rewarding experience a
nocturnal creature could possibly be granted. Again, it’s not quite like your human…
nirvana,’ Rheetah remarked with a hint of irony, ‘because the equinox, as a state, a
personal phenomenon and all that, is based predominantly on darkness. Hence it is
called an equinox. You need to possess some kind of inner darkness to begin with to
reach an equinox with someone. It isn’t anything that blows your mind… as far as I’ve
been told… Like I said, it’s nothing like ecstasy. It’s more like… solace. It is a state in
which the nocturnal creature can find peace and relieve itself from its constant inner
torment. That’s all, really. Hm,’ she added with an amused smirk, ‘I guess that if
Valerius is so obsessed with having his equinox symbol back, it must either mean that
it reminds him of an old love, or that he himself is looking to achieve the rare

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legendary phenomenon that only teens these days believe in… In both cases, it speaks
of a romantic soul beneath all that spite and sarcasm… I’m going to rip on him for that
forever…’
But she was no longer being listened to, because the moment I had been
informed of the symbol’s meaning, I sprang up like I had lost my mind, rushed out of
the room in a mental frenzy, and sprinted towards Valerius’ chamber, brimming with
questions that would finally be answered.

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 Chapter Fifteen
Blue Roses And Other Flowers

‘I know about the equinox,’ I announced the moment I burst into his room,
breathless, and from that very moment on I found myself incapable of figuring out
what I was to say next. The chamber Valerius was temporarily given had an all too
gothic touch to it, and had I know what Savrax’s bedroom looked like, I would have
compared Valerius’ room to it. Valerius himself was lying contentedly in a bed draped
in black velvet, resembling a chameleon as he was dressed in clothes of the very same
fabric, and his sharp little smile was pointed directly at me.
‘So what?’ he sneered when he saw me barge in with a poorly prepared
accusation. ‘Are you going to blackmail me with it?’
‘Well… no,’ I wasn’t really sure what to do with that piece of information once it
had reached me. ‘But… all this secrecy for something like that? You left everyone
with the impression that it is an object of great power. And, well, now it turns out that
it is little more than a… sentimental souvenir?’
Valerius’ smirk trembled and, to the extent that I could notice, expanded.
‘An object of great power? I remember specifying the exact opposite.’
‘Yes, but it’s not like anybody believed you. Well, then, if not, why are you here
wasting our time? Why did you organize this… this theatre play in the first place?
What’s it to you anyway?’
Later on, I came to think that it really wasn’t this hard to figure Valerius out, if
one just based one’s understanding of him on the idea that he was out of his mind.
‘Dear silly girl,’ the vampire purred and stretched in an equally cat-like manner,
‘look around you. The answer is right before your eyes. Look at the sheets I sleep in
here, look at the wine I drink and the luxury I live in. If I was to just tell you
everything, retrieve my medallion and go back to my own home right away, I’d be
back to sharing a cold, damp wooden floor with a few dozens of rats, drinking bad, old
blood and retreating to a dusty, rotten coffin. Thank you very much, but I like it way
better here. As for the medallion, since I discovered that it was in the hands of
harmless creatures, I’ve decided to take my time obtaining it. I’m in no hurry, as you
must have figured out by now. But, since you’ve found out its symbol’s true meaning,
feel free to share it with anyone you like, your aunt, even’, he shrugged his bony
shoulders and rose slowly, gently from the bed. ‘I don’t mind. I’m way too old to care
about what this or that pathetic bloodsucker will think about me. And now, since the
pendant’s meaning is no longer a secret to you,’ he added, slipping off from the velvet
sheets and crossing the room to the door with me in front of it, ‘hand it over, please.
This has always been mine, and you haven’t the slightest right to keep it.’
He extended a thin, angled hand at me with a firm, demanding gesture. As much
as I was drawn to the shape and structure of the hand, I resisted and shook my head.
‘No,’ I heard coming out of my lips, as though I was an obstinate child.
Valerius raised an eyebrow. He was intrigued, but obviously not surprised.

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 ‘No?’ he repeated in a tone that suggested that a full stop was fitter to follow the
word. ‘Thought so. And why, may I ask, little girl, do you believe you are worthier of
this medallion than anybody else?’
I hesitated, then raised a finger in the air, as though I was about to change the
world with my next statement.
‘First of all,’ I began, maturely to my estimation, although my voice was
trembling slightly, for reasons beyond my understanding, ‘I am really tired of people
calling me a little girl. Second, I feel deeply connected to the pendant, and now that I
have been told what it means, I am very certain that this is what I should be after…
that it was fate, and –’
‘Fate?’ Valerius was more amused than ever when he heard me pronounce the
word. I felt ashamed, naïve and stupid, like a student in the first grade facing a
literature professor. I hated it when people made me feel like that. ‘If you’re silly
enough to believe in fate, little girl, then you’re silly enough to believe in the equinox,
too. Please leave your romantic aspirations aside and get on with your life. You will
find nothing if the equinox is what you’re looking for.’
‘You believe in it too,’ I defended myself stubbornly. ‘Otherwise you wouldn’t
want to get the pendant back so much.’
‘I do not believe in it, child,’ the vampire disagreed in a voice as velvet as his
cape and sheets, ‘I have investigated it. That is something entirely different. I do not
waste my time believing in things. I’ve said it before – I am not looking for an object
to give my old dry heart a kick. I merely… have a peculiar passion of mine. Call me a
collector, if you will.’
‘A collector of what?’ I asked. Perhaps I ought to lose the hostile tone, I thought,
if I expected an answer. But it was too late.
‘You are far too curious, my dear undereducated acquaintance,’ Valerius shook
his head, turned away, apparently having lost interest in talking to me. ‘I’d rather you
left me to my own thoughts, which are undoubtedly far more elaborate than yours.
Aren’t you supposed to be sitting in your room sulking over the danger hanging over
your friends back in your world right now?’
That comment struck a nerve. I must have stood there for about a minute,
petrified and even more embarrassed than I had been a while ago. Indeed, that was
what I ought to be worrying about, not the equinox and its stupid symbol. The lives of
my friends – that was the priority question right now. And it had slipped my attention
as soon as Rheetah had mentioned that blasted equinox.
Valerius hesitantly turned back to me, as though there was a mirage detail about
me that had escaped him, and he wanted to make sure. He was prepared to raise a
thousand eyebrows at me, I could tell.
‘They’re… they’re safe, I know that,’ I mumbled, trying to convince myself that
this was an excuse for my emotional numbness. ‘Jake… the exorcist… he’s made sure
they are, I know him. I trust him completely. Nothing ever goes wrong when he is in
charge.’
‘Very well, but then what about the people who aren’t close to you?’ the vampire
pointed out cleverly. ‘Innocent lives are surely being taken in your world as we speak.
Humanity itself is at stake. And yet you are here, gladly embracing your inability to do

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a thing about it, eating waffles day after day, thinking about equinoxes and what not.
Now, how is that proper behavior for a nice little girl?’
I had thought I’d already dealt with this issue. Admitting before myself that I was
no good was not that difficult… but admitting it after somebody else had clearly stated
it made me feel like human trash.
‘It isn’t,’ I confessed in a small voice, but I knew it would never be small
enough. ‘It’s not even proper behavior for a monster.’
Valerius grinned at me, and for the first time this was not a half-sized sinister
grin; it was a genuine, proper smile that changed his face completely and, for a
moment, made it look like the face of someone who wasn’t such a bad person.
‘Now you’re on the way to striking the slightest bit of awe in me,’ he praised me.
I was astonished, dumbstruck, and disgusted. It seemed that was typical for vampires
to praise a person’s very worst sides. It made me sick of myself to my guts. ‘Now, tell
me, Vera, why do you think that is?’
‘Because I’m wicked to the bone, and whatever I do, I can’t escape it?’ I took a
wild guess. Valerius giggled.
‘Wrong,’ he replied, and, oddly enough, he made me feel at ease when, with one
playful twist in his expression, he turned the whole subject of my wickedness into a
guessing game. ‘Try again.’
I couldn’t say anything in response.
‘Think, Vera, think,’ he urged. He was entertaining himself watching my
torment, there was no doubt about that. ‘That you will never be wicked, no matter how
much you’d like to, is beyond obvious. See, you are feeling bad over a single
statement of mine, the sole purpose of which was to tease you and watch you squirm
with guilt. And now, on to a more serious question: why do you think you feel little
sympathy for your fellow people?’
‘I, um, I am not sure,’ I confessed. I felt it was okay to share what I really was
thinking with Valerius. It wasn’t like the truth was going to elude him, so I saw no
point in trying to conceal it from myself, either. ‘I feel distant. From them, I mean,
from other people. I always have, that’s for sure, but now more than ever. It might
sound corny, but it seems I feel a lot closer to this world, this race… than my own.
Even though I’ve always seen vampires as a plague.’ I laughed, and Valerius shared a
thrifty smirk with me. ‘But now… now it seems more likely that I cry over a
vampire’s corpse – um, ashes, – than the remains of a human being. Maybe it is
because I’ve become just as much of a monster as they are. No offense. Maybe it’s just
because… life here is better… makes you feel like you belong…’
‘Wrong again,’ Valerius announced cheerfully. I was waiting for the raised
eyebrow. Ah, there it was. ‘You were recently really miserable, weren’t you?’
The statement took me by surprise. Its correctness – even moreso.
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Miserable, I said. You were recently very miserable, for one reason or the
other.’
‘Are you one of those annoying mind-and-memory-reading vampires?’
‘Even if I am, I am not doing it right now. It’s only a logical conclusion that I’ve
just drawn. It’s obvious. You must have been in a really bad place… figuratively
speaking… to be enjoying this subdivision of hell that is the world we live in.’

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 There was silence. I didn’t see things this way – but that only proved that he had
a point.
I then remembered the best kind of defense was an attack. Well, it wasn’t. But I
thought I’d try it anyway.
‘Why the sudden interest in my personality?’ I retorted sharply. I wished he’d
stop smiling that smile of superiority at me. Probably every vampire had one, but his
took the cake.
‘Well,’ he began, ‘it is simply that you are young and stupid,’ he explained, as if
he didn’t realize his words insulted people every now and then. ‘Don’t get me wrong,
it is perfectly normal to be stupid when you are this young and this emotional. On the
other hand, it seems you’ve experienced quite a bit – drawing on the argument that I
previously brought forth – and your bitter experience in life fits neither your youth, nor
your stupidity. You’re too young to have felt some of the things you’ve felt – and yet,
your are way too stupid for someone who has been through the things you’ve been
through. And, the deal is, you can be smarter, and I can feel it coming in you, but you
still obstinately try to be stupid, as if you believe that this is some kind of virtue.’ He
shrugged. ‘I can’t seem to figure you out, and that is rare.’
I was about to say that the feelings were mutual, but I didn’t want to flatter him
by admitting that I had actually taken the time to attempt to figure him out.
‘You’re Leonard’s friend,’ he continued before I could reply, ‘and even though
he’s absurdly immature for his age, he’s undoubtedly told you to stop wasting your
time and potential on abstract mirages like right, wrong, conscience and so on. There
is no such thing – there is just life. If you must be either good or evil, due to some
specific personal need to define yourself as anything other than simply “you”, then I’ll
say to you now, you’re good, even if too much of a perfectionist to believe it and a
little insecure to brag with it. I don’t know if you have the potential to be evil, but I do
know you can be smart, and – did you know? – you can be good and smart at the same
time! Hooray!’
‘What’s my stupidity expressed in?’ I growled, no longer charmed by his sweet,
understanding personality. ‘If you think I’ll understand the explanation, that is?’
‘Oh you will,’ Valerius nodded with a great deal of certainty, ‘I am sure you will.
See, you’re chasing after ghosts. And I imagine you did the same before you came
here, too. Justice, virtue, romance, innocence, purity, humanity – I bet they are all on
your list. Ah, but they are ghosts and nothing more, designed by man to facilitate his
own fleeting human existence and prevent him from making it even shorter in fits of
despair over the pointlessness of it all.’
‘Well, that’s the point, exactly!’ I insisted vigorously. ‘What would the point of a
person’s life be if these ghosts didn’t exist? Would we be worth calling ourselves
people at all?’
‘Oh, but they don’t exist, Vera,’ the vampire said, almost compassionately, ‘and
why is it so painful for most humans to accept? You have to answer yourself, how
much of you are you prepared to determine as strictly human, and how much of
yourself is, indeed, a beast like us? In the end, come to think of it, what does it matter?
Hell is for everyone – the same for man and beast, for the sinful and the righteous…
more often than not more intense for the righteous, as I’m sure you’ve figured out by
now,’ he added with a wink, however I disliked his ominous winks, they were so much

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more twisted and morbid than Leonard’s. I frowned and turned towards the door. I
wasn’t going to win this battle.
‘I refuse to believe you know anything about hell,’ I placed my hand at the
doorknob, trying to indicate I wanted out of the room and the conversation alike. ‘Or
anything like the equinox, for that matter. That’s why I think you’re not worthy of
wearing that symbol around your neck. You’re just watching the world going to hell
doing nothing, being entertained by it. I see nothing admirable about that.’
‘But that’s what you’re doing too, my dear, and that’s all you can do,’ Valerius
said. ‘And you could be entertained by it, of course, but the fact that you are choosing
not to is your problem, not mine. Have a nice evening, you and your ghosts,’ he added
sarcastically, yet sarcasm passed as harmless in his view of interaction with others,
‘and make sure you tell me when they’ve faded completely, so that I could give you a
couple of different thoughts to haunt you.’

***

Whatever ghosts I’d had had long since faded, although I didn’t feel prepared to
admit it in front of anyone just yet. Maybe there was still a god watching me and
listening to me, hoping that what I was going through was just a phase, and I was not
supposed to say anything wrong as long as there was still a chance that He thought
there was any hope left for my soul. Valerius, on the other hand, was laughably
convinced that I was as pure as a daisy and just as intelligent, which was soothing, to
some extent. But he had to be wrong. If innocence was a flower, like Leonard had said,
I could feel the last petals of mine falling off on their own accord. And I didn’t even
have any of it left for it to hurt.
I knew my thoughts would eat me alive if I was condemned to stay on my own
for the next few hours, so it was a good thing that the host of the mansion and his
company returned before I had tortured my mind to the point of insanity. Leonard
called us all in the dining hall, smothering a small cough into a laced handkerchief,
and prepared to make an announcement.
‘My dear friends,’ he began solemnly, as all eyes turned to him in hope that his
enchanting aura would tangle them into its grip and detach them from their daily
sorrows. ‘I have been having such a lovely time, and it had been my greatest pleasure
to have you all gathered here at my house. And yet, it always seems to me that the
little I do to make you feel delighted to be here is simply not enough. So, you know
me, I am always looking for a reason, or an excuse, if you will, to celebrate. And it is
with inexpressible joy that I am about to announce yet another occasion for us all to
celebrate! I was recently informed that our dear friend and companion, whom I’m sure
you have all grown fond of despite his short-term stay here – Savrax – is to get one
year older than he has until now been tomorrow – and still remain hundreds of years
younger than most of us here, of course. So, I shall propose a toast to youth, and since
I am so thrilled by this upcoming event, I have decided to throw a party in his honor.
But not just a common party at my house, oh no! ‘Tis going to be a ball, ladies and
gentlemen, men and monsters – and fair maidens!’ he winked devilishly. He knew
better than anyone there were no fair maidens around. ‘So, bring your fans and your
arrogance, pick your best formal clothes – or steal some of mine, I’ve got plenty – but

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be sure to wear nothing different, as that’s all that will be allowed tomorrow night. The
ball will start at eight, the rule is: come with a lady or a gentleman – or both – in hand,
and the dress code is: be beautiful – because that is the single word that describes you
all best!’
There was a roar of enthusiastic applause following his powerful, loving speech.
Leonard lit the entire dining room with a radiant smile. He was at his best, and he was
determined to be this way for as long as he could. Life was short, after all. Well, not to
him, but as long as his life was, he could still never get enough of it.
‘He does seem to be overdoing it, doesn’t he?’ Savrax asked when he had the
chance to exchange a word or two with me several minutes later, when everyone else
was going to bed or about their business. ‘I really doubt that he likes me all that much.
I mean, would he throw a ball for someone’s birthday just like that?’
‘For me – I doubt it,’ I shrugged. ‘But I think he might have some sort of a plan
for you. I suppose he sees something in you. Whatever you do tomorrow night, do not
join him in his bedroom if he asks you to,’ I grinned, but on the inside I was pretty
serious. ‘You never know what might happen,’ I added. ‘He is rather unpredictable.’
‘Yeah, I kind of noticed such a pattern with him,’ my friend nodded, looking
around the room as curiously as he had the first time he’d entered it. ‘He’s a lot of fun
to be around, though. Do you think this ball thing would be a good idea?’
‘I think he’ll murder us if we don’t attend, and murder our pets if we don’t dress
properly.’
‘Yes, I most definitely will,’ a polite voice said behind us, and Leonard’s
beaming face appeared out of nowhere. ‘Ah, Savrax,’ he placed a gentle hand on his
shoulder, ‘I was just looking for you. May I have a few of your precious minutes? I
was just wondering if you’d be so kind to answer this question for me: what type of
clothing would you prefer for tomorrow night? I’ve got outfits to offer you from
medieval times to this day, which I believe will be sufficient, but the colors are
entirely up to you…’

***

The very next day I was a ghost more than I had any. I was getting dress fever –
and that was something Valerius would have laughed at more than I could bear, I was
sure, but I couldn’t help it. There was something about me that found wearing a dress
to be very unnatural and completely unhealthy. Some of my dress-related anxieties had
passed since I’d been with Charlie, as he’d often urge me to wear dresses and I’d
gotten used to it, more or less – but there was still this innate fear of the idea of
looking like a woman that would never completely leave the back of my head.
That was why I headed gloomily to the dressing room that Leonard had led me
into several weeks ago, hoping to find that blue dress he had mentioned he’d bought
for me, and get it over with. I was not sure if that was what I wanted to wear, but it
was already way too cold for my mother’s thin black dress, I had nothing else to wear,
and, if anything, there would most certainly be something happening at that ball that
would make me feel blue, one way or another. I had always attempted to avoid people
like Valerius, for instance, seeing me in a dress, and I had done it with variable success

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in my life. He’d probably say something along the lines of how well this dress went
with my conformism. If it came to that, I’d choke him with my bare hands.
To my greatest horror, he was there in the dressing room, together with Rheetah,
who looked more nervous than ever. For a second, I hesitated, and had nearly begun to
mutter something conveying the idea that I’d come back later, when a stubborn and
rather unreasonable voice in my head told me to do something else, and it sounded
very much like “to hell with it, I don’t really care what anyone might say or think
about me… besides, he’ll probably laugh at me even more if I am too much of a
coward to collect my dress in front of him.”
I strode across the room to the classy, oversized wardrobe and reached for a piece
of long, blue fabric that seemed to be what I was looking for. Rheetah, however, was
reaching towards it at the same time, and she hesitantly withdrew her hand in shame as
soon as she saw me. Her claws had been carefully cut for the evening.
‘I’m – I’m sorry,’ she uttered quietly, blushing. Valerius gave her one of his
destructive looks. ‘I didn’t know that was yours, I… I’m just going to get something
else…’
‘You probably should,’ Valerius muttered, ‘that dress you’re trying to snatch is
probably made for weasels to wear.’
We both growled at him, and we did so in a stunningly similar manner, too.
‘Are you calling me overgrown?’ Rheetah bristled.
‘Are you calling me a weasel?’ I gritted my teeth.
‘As usual, ladies, I have managed to insult both of you with a single innocent
remark,’ the vampire replied, evidently beaming with self-satisfaction. ‘I’ll retreat and
watch you go about your petty business, shall I?’
In his usual black velvet, he became one with the window curtains.
Rheetah shook her had and started rummaging in the wardrobe for something
else to wear, not so much discouraged as she seemed crushed. She sighed heavily,
picking a bright yellow dress encrusted with cheap jewels, which would look horrible
on her. I felt sorry for the werewolf woman who apparently wanted to try to be
beautiful just for one night of her life but had imposed a personality too manly and
tough on herself to admit it. I’d been in her situation before.
‘Here,’ I said with a smile, handing the deep blue dress over to her. ‘Take it. It
stretches, you know, and since it’ll be a little short for you, it’ll make you look extra
sassy. Come on, I don’t really care what I’ll wear.’
‘Neither do I,’ Rheetah lied. There was no way I could not sympathize her.
‘Listen, I know how it is,’ I began quietly, so that Valerius wouldn’t see a reason
to interfere into the conversation again. ‘I’m female too, after all. A certain color, or a
piece of clothing means a lot to you. Take it, please. I’m not fond of blue anyway.’
Rheetah sighed again and felt she could be honest with me.
‘It’s the color,’ she confessed uneasily, ‘that I think I ought to wear tonight. I
don’t dress up… much, as you might know… It’s blue because of the roses… you
know… Not that I have anything to do with a rose, or any other kind of flower, for that
matter… But, um, you know… You do know about blue roses, don’t you?’ she asked
doubtfully, suddenly remembering that I was “new to the whole thing”.
But I knew about blue roses. If the equinox was the ABC of the werewolf
community, then the blue roses were its picture books, and the symbol that was

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probably printed on its flag. To werewolves, the blue rose carried out their personal
perception of live, and probably life, too – the sad, melancholic, hopeless, lonely love,
love soaked in a cool night sky and brimmed with a lining of moonlight. It was love
doomed to be lost, and it was the only kind of love werewolves believed in. Still, as
depressing as that idea probably sounded to the majority of humanity, I understood
why Rheetah wanted to be her own interpretation of a blue rose tonight, and how much
it meant to her.
‘Take it,’ I repeated reassuringly. ‘It’ll fit you perfectly. Seriously, I can wear the
yellow one and have Valerius laugh at me all night…’
‘Don’t take it,’ Valerius commanded unexpectedly from the curtain he was
blending with. ‘This will be a desperate attempt for you to get the kind of attention you
definitely don’t want.’ He shuffled, walked over to us, flung the other door of the
chubby wardrobe open, and with the swift, flamboyant gesture of a magician pulled
out a piece of clothing that was not so much a dress as it was a work of art. It had
everything a person from the past would agree a dress ought to have: an elaborate
corset, a long, wide skirt with numerous underskirts, lots of black lace all over it and
the alluring, powerful feel of burgundy satin. It was a dress that wasn’t for everyone.
This was a dress a woman would dress in to be crowned queen with. It struck awe into
the viewer, and any true gentleman would die to court a woman in such a dress, but
would feel a great amount of weakness in the knee area and doubt in his own abilities
and talents upon trying to seduce a woman of such class and possession of self-value.
It wasn’t something that conducted the image of a sad, insecure beauty waiting to be
swept off her feet and scorned later in the evening. It was a dress for a woman who
knew she was worth more than being messed with.
Which was why Rheetah shook her head the instant she saw the burgundy
contraption made in hell. Valerius crossed her way when she chose to leave the
dressing room, caught her by the arm, then, to everyone’s surprise and mostly
Rheetah’s, he wrapped both of his eerie, bony hands around her waist, and whispered
in her ear gently, in a voice that could melt down an iceberg:
‘No rose should ever be blue. Roses, like women, are meant to be adored and
treated with care. If loneliness fails to drain the beauty out of them, then, to say the
least, it makes their beauty useless. Many roses - and women - easily forget that.’ His
lips breathed tempting clogs of warm air into shuddering Rheetah’s ear for a minute or
two, just until he could derive satisfaction from his manipulative nature once more,
and then he added, in his casual voice, ruining the magic: ‘Now go put on that dress,
for God’s sake!’
When Rheetah headed, wobbling and tripping, towards the dressing screen to
change, I fixed my fierce stare on Valerius, and fixed it good, hoping he would burst in
flames and die.
‘What the hell did you do that for?’ I hissed. ‘That was so… so…’
‘Sexy?’ Valerius guessed innocently, but he guessed wrong.
‘Dishonest! Dirty! Manipulative!’ I had a number of better words for his
performance. ‘She doesn’t get a lot of attention, don’t you see? This thing you did
might mean something to her, and… and then God knows what might happen! But,’ I
added thoughtfully a moment later, ‘in a very your way, I suppose it was noble, too…
to make her choose the more confident dress… To make her strive towards being

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something other than miserable. But why did you have to do the whole seduce-you
thing, huh?’
He met my accusative stare without a display of passion. His eyes didn’t work
like a mirror, like Leonard’s. They simply absorbed whatever was cast at them and
returned it back to its owner with equal spite. And elegance, naturally.
‘I wouldn’t worry about that, sweetie,’ he retorted carelessly. ‘It’s not me she’s
dressing up for. Which, I am sure is not the case with you. And I shall break your heart
by asking Rheetah to be my lady for the evening.’
‘I’d rather be split apart and have my parts scattered all over the world,’ Rheetah
replied from behind the screen. ‘Get lost, Dracula, you’re too hideous even for me.’
It was my turn to have a verbal revenge on Valerius.
‘Don’t worry,’ I patted him with sarcastic compassion on the back. ‘You won’t
be needing a lady. Just get a raven to land on your wrist and you will look entirely
self-sufficient.’
‘I am self-sufficient, darling,’ Valerius waved my comment off with an arrogant
smirk. ‘If I were you, I’d be worrying whether your little blue dress will be sufficient
to cover your little, um, back. You think I advised Rheetah to leave the dress to you
solely out of the kindness of my heart? Think again.’
I gasped in a fit of indignation much, much bigger than the space the blue dress
would cover. Valerius was evil, there was no question on the subject. Everything he
did was a part of a wicked plot, and nearly everything in the world he found amusing.
Where amusement was insufficient, he made an effort to create some more for himself.

***

I could tell a woman fidgeting in a dress she found too pretty for her from a mile
away. That was exactly what Rheetah was doing. I only had to look at her to see how I
was behaving in the eyes of others.
There were hundreds of formally dressed vampires at the ball. It was a feast for
the eyes. I was freezing in my short dress, pretending to be marveling at the grace and
class of the nocturnal society. I was standing by myself by a window, watching the
couples practice complicated dancing steps I would never learn under the sounds of
classical pieces the names of neither of which I knew. More than anything, I wished
I’d picked the red dress. It looked warmer.
Around eight-thirty Leonard descended down the stairs, in his finest, most
seductive black, accompanied by Huck in emerald velvet and the birthday person
dressed in black and blue in the nineteenth century vest-and-shirt spirit, hand in hand
with a beautiful black haired lady in a black dress. I was as delighted as I was amused.
If he remembered any of this when all of this was over, I’d rip on Savrax for it for the
rest of my miserable life.
‘Is this side of the window taken?’ a mild, modest voice asked somewhere in the
vicinity of my ear. I turned and saw Huck appear next to me. I hadn’t expected him to
get through the hall so fast, but then again, vampires did such flaunty things every now
and then. ‘I’m sorry’, Huck continued, ‘to bother you. I just didn’t seem to find myself
a lady, and – ’

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 ‘Don’t worry, neither did I,’ I replied cheerfully. ‘And you’re not bothering me.
Are you enjoying yourself?’
‘Oh, you know me – being gloomy for both of us. Same old, same old. Once
again, I can see Leonard had dressed you up in something that is far beneath your
dignity?’ he asked with a shy smile.
I looked down at the dress which revealed much more than it covered.
‘Oh, it’s just beneath my dignity, yes,’ I agreed, responding to his warm, caring
look. ‘I wish it was a little further beneath my dignity, I’d be much warmer then.’
Huckleberry laughed.
‘You know Leonard,’ he said meekly. ‘He means no harm, only corruption.’
We saw Rheetah approach in the interval of silence that followed his line,
adjusting her cleavage, because this was what her dress inspired people to do. She
looked irritable and extremely nervous.
‘Oh, great, I am glad someone shares my opinion on how much this party sucks,’
she sighed with faked relief the moment she reached us. I couldn’t help but notice she
was ravishing, though – she had pulled her hair back elegantly, and the dress fitted her
so beautifully that one could barely focus on the scars she had all over her arms and
neck. One would guess they were love bites. ‘Anyone has a drink to share with me?’

The whole time, she wasn’t looking at us. I traced her anxious stare to the
direction it pointed in, and smiled. I leaned towards her conspiratorically.
‘I think I can guess where your nervousness comes from,’ I spoke to her,
lowering my voice.
‘What?’ she sounded startled, as if she didn’t expect to be spoken to. Her wild
eyes madly followed the same little dot in the crowd. ‘No! Who told you I was
nervous? I’m just standing here being pretty and bored, and everything’s alright…
Anyone got scotch?’
I took her away from the window so that she wouldn’t feel embarrassed by Huck
listening, and then I looked her straight in her piercing yellow eyes. They could do
many things, but not lie. Right now, they wanted to run away, and she looked back at
me the way a captive wild animal would.
‘Don’t worry, I know your secret,’ I spoke to her in a voice as soothing as I could
muster, ‘and it is nothing to be ashamed of. In any case, I am glad you are wearing that
dress tonight.’
‘I am too. I would have looked like a slut in it. No offense.’
‘We both look like sluts, only you’re the classier one. But there is nothing wrong
with that,’ I added. ‘It certainly does catch the eye,’ I winked. Then I realized that
might not be the best strategy. Rheetah looked as if she was about to cry.
‘I didn’t mean for this to happen,’ she muttered quietly to herself, and lowered
her head in shame. ‘I know I wasn’t meant for this… I know what a blue rose means…
and yet I still feel what I feel, and don’t even know why…’
‘I do,’ I said to her, tracing her glance to a figure in the distance, in black and
blue, waltzing happily in the center of the ballroom, as if in a pretty dream. ‘It’s not
something you choose. It’s not something that follows rules of logic or safety.
Sometimes, it can be a real curse. And, in any case, you become its slave.’

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 ‘All I wanted was one scream,’ Rheetah moaned. ‘I mean, was that so much to
ask? One shriek of horror, one squeal of disgust, one rude joke, one damn negative
reaction, and it would have ended! Why does one have to be so obnoxiously nice?
He’s got every reason to hate me, and I have every reason to hate him! Then why don’t
I?’
Rheetah was in love. I could tell by the insecure, frightened look in her eyes.
Nothing but love could be so scary.
‘Nobody has treated me better in my whole life,’ she concluded desperately.
‘And, in the end, we didn’t even communicate that much! And on top of that, it is full
moon tonight and I’ll ruin this lovely dress, which I will have worn in vain anyway…’
‘It’s full moon tonight?’ I repeated stupidly. ‘Really?’
‘God dammit, girl, learn your cycles, will you? I’ll have to leave early tonight.
And I won’t even be able to say a thing… I mean, what was I thinking? A woman who
can handle a sworn is never thought to be able to handle a man, as well!’
‘Listen,’ I turned to Rheetah with warmth and compassion, and for a moment I
felt like I was talking to my old self, only taller, blonder and more feminine. ‘I’m
really happy… almost proud… that you have… um… feelings for one of my most
intriguing friends, to say the least. And I want you to know that you are a truly
wonderful woman, in every possible way, and you look very beautiful too, and you
deserve to be adored and cared for, and whatever else Valerius said, and I don’t mean
to discourage you, but…um… there is a bit of a problem with your situation…’
‘Tell me about it,’ Rheetah groaned. ‘There are tons of problems. But I know the
main one: werewolf and vampire don’t mix. That’s a rule. You don’t just ignore that.
Ever. I know. I should give it up.’
I hesitated. This did not go as planned.
‘Um… I was going to say that having a relationship who already has another
relationship prior to meeting you is immoral, but that’s also a valid point,’ I muttered,
a little unsure of what to say next. I saw Rheetah’s eyes darken. ‘But,’ I added
optimistically, ‘he’s not really a vampire, you see. He’s merely a nocturner, whatever
that means. But I am sure it isn’t – ’
‘Oh yeah, and you’re just a regular human girl who turns into a vicious wolf
every full moon in the vampire world, right?’ the werewolf woman snarled at me. ‘It
makes no difference anymore! You’re trying to tell me he’s not nearly a vampire, huh?
Just look at him. I can smell the thirst building up in him as we speak. And when the
moon is full…’
I could smell no thirst, and felt like a very inferior werewolf.
‘But I never let Leonard take him hunting, or anything like that! I mean, he is my
friend, I couldn’t allow anyone to turn him into a monster! They just went to clubs,
probably out dancing and…’
‘Yeah? “The Razor Club”? Can you tell where it got its name from? Five days in
a row in that club, you’d want to drink blood from a straw, too.’
‘No,’ I shook my head in determinate denial. ‘This can’t be, it mustn’t happen…’
‘But I’d say it’s happening now. Oh, damn…’ Rheetah cursed, and dashed
through the crowd in her lovely royal dress, hoping to prevent the worst from
happening, but it was already happening to her, to me, and to everyone…
The moon was rising, majestic and scarlet. Huck gasped, but no one heard him.

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 ‘I’m having such a good time with you, Leonard,’ Savrax was just telling the
blond vampire when several people seemed to rush in their direction at the same time.
My friend’s hand was only vaguely shaking as he held his glass with a stinging secret
ingredient in it. ‘I mean, this is great… You live every day like it is your last. Few
people ever dare to do that.’
‘Oh, it might be, dear boy, it might be,’ Leonard replied joyously, waving at me
in the crowd as I was running like mad together with Rheetah, trying to get to the core
of the bloodthirst before the bloodthirst got to us… ‘Tomorrow just might be my last
day, and that goes for many of my friends around here. Didn’t I tell you? We’re going
to war tomorrow. Yes, you didn’t think that, with the situation in your world being as
bad as it is, we’d just sit here and do nothing all the time? We need to protect our food
resources. No killing, my bottom drawers! There is a beast in us all. Drink up, boy,
drink up! Carpe Noctem!’
‘Carpe Noctem,’ Savrax responded, and took a modest sip from his drink.
Leonard shook his head as he watched his guest’s hands shake more and more visibly.
‘No, no, boy,’ he said meekly, ‘that’s not the way we do it here. It’s your
birthday, after all. I’ll show you how it’s done.’
The vampire took the crimson glass from his shaking hand and gave the drink a
good hard stare. Meanwhile, the moon lit the ballroom brightly and a few distant
screams and snarls were heard, but he took no notice of them. Then, abruptly, violently
and in a manner not at all civilized, Leonard clasped his pianist, yet still vampire, hand
around the birthday person’s neck and clenched his grip as it got firmer and firmer,
and time seemed to slow down just for a while…
Step number one: you startle and/or infuriate someone. Step number two: you put
them in a life-threatening situation. Step number three: you get a little assistance from
certain celestial bodies. That’s how you prepare someone’s beast to come out.
That’s how Leonard did it. With horrifying dedication.
He poured the content of the glass directly onto the head of the person he had
flattered and entertained for days now, and watched the wine drops turn to blood drops
as they made their way down the forehead, around the eyes, across the lips. Then, the
vampire grinned with mad satisfaction.
Step number four: you give the beast the remedy. But not directly, no, never
directly. You lure it, you tempt it, you tease it with its flavor until the beast comes out
by itself and claims what’s rightfully its. That’s how the beast is born.
And my own beast was catching up with me when I was only inches away from
the goal…
The last thing I saw tonight was a melee in ballroom clothing, swiftly torn by
claws and teeth and vicious fangs, and the last thing my friend must have seen was a
red curtain falling blissfully over his eyes, and Leonard’s face, laughing mentally, his
grin sharper than a chainsaw and just as unstable, his eyes hungry for blood; and the
last thing he most probably heard was the voice of his vampire host…
‘Happy birthday, boy,’ Leonard’s voice flew gently across the ballroom through
the scarlet blur of the hunger. ‘Most of us have two birthdays, as you know; one as
men, and one as monsters… You’re lucky. Few people get to have them both on the
same date.’

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 Chapter Sixteen
War

‘What’s wrong with him?’

‘Fever. Happens to everyone. Don’t worry, it will pass. It’s what happens
afterwards that bothers me.’
‘No, I meant what was wrong with Leonard.’
‘Oh, him. He’s just out of his mind, is all.’
‘I see.’
‘You can’t expect anything else from someone who’s been inviting insanity in
for five hundred years.’
‘Yeah.’
Huck was worried; as was I. No; worried was an understatement. There are just
certain lights in which you couldn’t bear seeing your friends. Last night’s light was
one of them.
Also, there is only so much blood one can take seeing on a friend. Someone
else’s, that is.
‘We’ll have no time to wait through the turning fever,’ Huck shook his head, pale
as snow. ‘We’re going to war in mere hours. Leonard keeps saying it was my idea.’
‘As if.’
‘But he is right; as much as I trust your friend Jake, people in your world will
need a great deal of assistance. And we will do whatever we can to defend them.’
‘Are you sure you’re not going to go there just to grab a few quick snacks?’
‘Don’t be silly. Leonard has a kind heart, deep inside. And he will get our entire
population to follow him in this madness, if he must. But he cares, Wera, he really
does.’ Huckleberry sighed heavily. ‘Even if last night’s events seem to contradict it.’
‘Contradict?’ I snapped. ‘He’s turned my friend into a monster, the same way he
did this to me! He had it planned all along!’
‘No; he had realized that when we go to war with the cursed ones in your world,
there will be no one left here to take care of him, protect him or feed him. Therefore,
there will be no one for him to feed on as well. Besides, I am certain that your friend
will insist on joining us in battle. I know… I know this is hard for you to hear. But
Leonard did this for your friend’s own protection, and besides, when he is done with
the fever period, he will be able to be of use…um… in battle. Um. As a force.’ Huck
went even paler. ‘Leonard said, every person counts, and…’
‘So he didn’t turn my friend into a monster after all!’ I yelled, unable to control
myself any longer. ‘He turned him into a military resource! Oh, God, I am so
relieved!’
The military resource stirred and sighed in his sleep.
Leonard burst happily into the bedroom of the ill one.
‘Rise and shine, everyone!’ he sang loudly, in a better and more twisted mood
than I’d seen him in a long time. Mr Leslie Hyde was in charge today, obviously.
‘We’ve got a war to get started, and only a few hours to get prepared in! Everyone’s
waiting for you. Anyone staying here? No? Didn’t think so. Come on, let’s get

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moving, we’ve got no time to lose! Every minute we waste is a life lost! Think of all
the innocent puppies! The army is waiting for you, so enough with the slumber!’
‘Shh!’ Huck growled in a low voice at him. ‘Can’t you see he’s not well? Thanks
to you! Have a little respect! We can’t leave while he is still in bed!’
‘Ah, but I have just the solution for that!’ Leonard exclaimed, skipped merrily,
like a schoolgirl, towards the door he’d emerged from, and brought in a large, heavy
bucket from the corridor. He lifted it over his head and spilled its contents all over the
bed of the feverish patient.
We all screamed, and Huck covered his nose.
It was a bucket of blood, so fresh you could have thought it was steaming.
And there is no way to awaken a sick nocturner-gone-vampire quite like a bucket
of blood in the face. That was probably one of Leonard’s ways of solving things: if
charm, smiles and winks don’t work, when in doubt, spill some blood on it and it will
all get better.
‘Come on, Sleeping Beauty! We’ve got a war to fight!’ he urged
unceremoniously my stunned, dizzy, drenched in blood friend, and smiled a ferocious
smile. ‘That was refreshing, wasn’t it? There’s another bucket of that for you at the
entrance if you still feel a little woozy. And what are you three gawking at? Come on,
move it and do something useful! Revive the gargoyles! Tie the night nymphs!
Release the harpies! Must I do everything myself?’

***

If someone had said things were bad, it would have been a serious
understatement. Thank goodness no one said it this time.
All of my friends were having problems at the moment. Due to the curse not only
was everyone threatened, but the line between reality and fantasy was growing thinner
and thinner. Yana, for instance, was having problems with being stuck with Jake
Jonathan, the man of her nightmares, and him looking more real next to her than ever,
more clear and annoying than anything she’d so far seen. Velichka, on the other hand,
was my second friend that was having some serious close encounters with other
humanoid species.
Generally, she was a girl of a cheerful disposition with a fascination for the Asian
culture and a fondness for stuffed farm animals. Now, she was coming to terms with
an entirely different side of her, and that was the side that saw angels in her living
room.
It was one angel, to be perfectly accurate. He – um, it – had turquoise eyes, vory-
colored hair, perfectly white feathery wings and an expression too mild even for an
angel. And it had just claimed itself to be called Possey.
That was not a very suitable name for an angel, Velichka decided. Maybe he
wasn’t entirely kosher. So far, the angel had just been spending hour after hour
drinking her tea and babbling about trivial things.
‘So, you see,’ the angel finally returned to the main subject of the conversation,
‘like I said, my name is Possey – well, they call me that, you don’t want to know why
– and I have been appointed to be your temporary guardian angel. There are… some
people out there that I must protect you from. And there is no reason for me to beat

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around the bush – they are probably going to try to eat us alive. And we have to keep
them off our trail, you and I, and you see, this would have been relatively easy if there
hadn’t been a glitch in the plan… Because it is also our task to go fetch a certain man
and take him to apologize to a certain woman, you see. Well, my task. And my other
task is to protect you. Which is going to be a little difficult, of course… Oh dear…’ the
angel moaned in self-pity.
‘Okay, enough,’ Velichka commanded, and the angel was rather startled by it.
Still, he listened. He was desperate, and Velichka was quite good at restoring the order
in situations that seemed, to others, hopeless. ‘We’ve been talking this over for too
long, and you’ve had too much tea to drink, I think. I get what you must do. Just tell
me what I have to do, and we’ll go fight those people or whatever they are together.
Piece of cake.’
‘Oh, okay,’ the angel felt significantly encouraged, and his feathers shook
courageously as he repeated: ‘Okay. Right. Yes. Let’s do this, then. It can’t be that
hard, can it? Um… let’s see… I have to ask this just in case, Velichka… Are you a
remorseless heartbreaker?’
Velichka thought about it.
‘Well, everyone makes mistakes,’ she began, her eyes fixed on the ceiling, ‘but I
wouldn’t use words that harsh to describe them. Heartbreaker – I don’t know about
that. Remorseless – hardly.’
‘That’ll do, that’ll do just fine,’ Possey nodded frantically, feeling more and more
capable with every minute that passed. ‘That’s really great, actually. Oh, and, um, do
you eat meat?’
‘No, of course not. I’m a vegetarian.’
‘Perfect,’ the angel beamed. ‘And, last question, Velichka, if I may,’ he added as
he turned slightly for a fraction of a second, and pulled out, out of thin air it seemed, a
long, elaborate sword with a golden handle and a silver blade, the latter of which was
flaring and casting red-hot sparks; every inch of its surface had wild, bright red flames
weaving around it. ‘Have you ever used one of these?’

***

The night was beautiful. At least from afar it was, in the chilly air that enveloped
us in its cold embrace. The sky was of a deep, velvet blue shade – a personal favorite
of mine – and the shimmering full moon was floating in the center of a monumental
splash of white clouds. I felt deeply eager to paint it, but I quickly remembered that the
only color I’d be seeing for a while soon would be red, metaphorically and literally.
We were standing on the roof of a building at least eight stories tall – or, to be
precise, some of us were. I was instinctively sticking to Leonard, who had transformed
from a sweet-talking, spontaneous, feminine host into the Alpha vampire in the army.
And truly an army it was: the streets of my world were nearly empty, with the
exception of a drunk or two, but the rooftops of the buildings and the clear skies above
were specked with hundreds of little black figures as far as the eye – or my eye, at
least – could see. They certainly hadn’t come to attend a rather peculiar metal concert.
And there weren’t just vampires out there; there were harpies, creatures of a rather
nasty disposition, which the vampires had somewhat tamed, but only to the extent a

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man could tame a tiger; there were gargoyles too, lots of them, completely obedient
and responsive to the vampires’ commands, and some of the vampires used them as
rides as they floated gently up and down in the air on their backs – the little bats, I
thought with a certain amount of irony, riding the bigger bats – and suddenly it became
really clear to me why all true vampires found it essential to have statues of gargoyles
built atop of their residences; and then there were the night nymphs, humming their
thick strawberry half-whispers, some moaning and groaning, others giving out a shriek
or two out of impatience – and mostly because they were all tied with chains as if on
leashes to their fanged masters, pulling and writhing at their ends in the night like
enormous, ghostly, alluring scarlet fireflies. I knew they’d save the night nymphs for
dessert, in case all else failed, and if that failed too, we’d probably have to try
summoning the Devil himself. I looked around. It all seemed too quiet for this to be
the world I knew and lived in. In the morbid, dead silence this land felt a little more
charming to me than it used to. But there was something dead wrong about it: there
were no cars, no people returning from late work or clubs infesting the streets,
babbling pointlessly, and most of all – no sun. It was supposed to be daytime here, I
was certain. It seemed that that philosopher had been right – what was his name again?
– claiming there was absolutely no reason for us people to think that the sun was sure
to rise every day just because it had risen each morning for us for thousands of years.
There was a first time for everything.
I wondered what would happen if I tried to jump down from the top of the
building; whether I’d have the time to enjoy the breeze in my hair before I ended up as
a pile of skin and crushed bones in a puddle of blood in the street… and then stepped
away from the edge. Death was close enough today anyway. I didn’t need to call it out.
‘Hmm,’ Huck muttered under his breath, which was condensing inches from his
lips in the stinging ice-cold air. ‘That kind of reminds me of a joke about vampires
standing on the roof of a building, but I can’t remember how it went…’
‘Here’s how it went,’ Leonard whispered, his eyes glimmering in the ink-blue
dusk. ‘They waited for the right moment to come, they descended like a curse from the
heavens, and showed a few lousy cannibals who’s boss. It’s how it should go, and how
it will go.’
He was on the tune of war in his mind already. I wished I could think war too
right now, but all that came to mind were trivial or personal things, like how cold I
was, or when we’d get to go home, or the equinox. I sank into the silence that
followed, and then uttered, turning to Huck, as Leonard was not all there at the
moment:
‘Hey, where’s Valerius? I don’t see him here. Maybe he went with the left
flank?’
‘Valerius won’t be fighting alongside us,’ Huck replied in a blank voice. ‘He
said he didn’t need to risk his life for a ridiculous cause. He said war was for the
people, who needed to fill their fleeting lives with meaning and believe there’s
something worth fighting for, and that after three centuries in this world he was too old
to believe in ghosts. He stayed behind to protect Liz, although she has a whole
dimension of her own she will be perfectly safe at. She was just his excuse to stay out
of this.’

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 ‘I see,’ I muttered, and suddenly I felt inexplicably angry with Valerius for being
so impassive and selfish. His heart couldn’t be brought back to life by any power, and
at the time we had spoken the day before the ball, I had seen some sense in his words,
but now, when I was standing atop that building, the wind in my hair, the harpies and
night nymphs screaming in the night, gargoyles making whatever sounds it was they
made, I felt the ghosts in my heart more opaque than ever; I felt the rare urge to be
heroic, to be brave, to put my life on the line for the world I had been raised in, which,
if not perfect, had made me the person I was – and no other world could make me that:
a person. The beast I was was something I was born with.
Apparently, however, most vampires were not feeling this way. They murmured
in hesitation and discontent. Some of those who had overheard Huck talking about
Valerius’ decision were beginning to wonder if they ought to follow his example. They
had no reasons to feel patriotic here, like me. To them, this was just an insignificant
town filled with insignificant people filled with insignificant thoughts. Why were they
supposed to care if they got eaten or not? They could be tucked in safely in their
coffins right now.
Leonard made a few laps on the roof of the building, his eyes glistening and
bloodshot, even more than usual. For a moment, I wondered if these shimmers were
signs of tears. Whatever he was thinking of, he was going through something deep.
Finally, he spoke, and even the gargoyles seemed to restrain themselves from making
noises as his voice grew from an ominous whisper to a passionate shout:
‘My fellow vampires,’ he began, ‘you all know that I can tell the thoughts you’re
thinking right now. But I don’t need to be able to read your minds – even though I
could – to guess that you’re wondering why you’re even here. Why risk your lives to
save those of the humans, these pathetic, shallow creatures? Is it out of some sort of
racial respect or a sense of belonging? We have no respect for them, and they do not
belong to our race. They might look like us, but they are nothing like us. Why, then? Is
it to fight for some sort of ideal, or a cause? Justice? Peace? Freedom? This is not our
justice, this isn’t our peace, this is not our freedom.’ Leonard paused, his eyes flaring
threateningly in the velvet night, and then continued speaking louder, even though
vampires were usually great at hearing. ‘To tell you the truth, we have no values or
causes, and we never have. We never chose to abide by any kind of morality, never
helped a fellow vampire unless he would repay us somehow. We don’t feel the need to
be noble. So why do it now, you ask? I’ll tell you a story, my fellow vampires. As a
human, I was a poor peasant boy. My family owned nothing but a small farm
consisting of three pigs and a dozen hens. In my lifetime as a human being, no fellow
human ever treated me as an equal. I was humiliated and scorned; I was living in hell.
As a vampire, I am more respected by vampires and people alike. And I’m sure you
understand. Few of you were born the way you are. Many of you became beasts, but
could have been great artists, musicians, writers, composers, dancers, physicians,
scientists.’ His eyes briefly met Huck’s, and I could see a pair of scorching tears
gleaming in them. ‘And their hostile, intolerant world threw us all away. And yet, they
claim to be the moral ones. God’s favorites. They, who kill without ever feeling the
need to! But we are indeed better: we’re not hypocrites, and we’re not the heartless
animals they think us. We will show them that tonight by saving their world,
something they’d never do for ours. The second reason for you to take part in this

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war,’ Leonard’s eyes cast fire and brimstone wherever they turned, and his words
stirred the unbeating hearts of the masses, ‘is the innocent ones. Few as they may be
out there, they do not deserve their fate, and they feel just like most of you felt in the
beginning of your journey – scared, alone, abandoned. I will not tell you how many of
them are musicians or physicians, but you know they’re not unlike what you started
out as. And, last but not least, we’ll be facing cannibals tonight. Not mindless, vicious
monsters, but men and beasts in one, with their rifles and planes and all of their other
silly contraptions. And I’ll give you one last good reason to kick these posers’ teeth in
and drain them to the point they’re begging for death. The line between the man and
the monster is us. No one decides to feed off people, like we do, and gets away with it.
This is our trademark, our privilege. That’s our food down there, and inferior creatures
are stealing it from under our noses. Nobody has the right to do that! Nobody has the
right to take lives they’re not worthy of! Taking lives is something only we are worthy
of! And do you want to know why? Can anyone tell me why?’ Leonard’s tears had
turned into frozen fury. The vampires hissed and shouted, speaking fifty at a time,
making an enthusiastic, incoherent racket. Leonard beamed wickedly at them, their
leader, guide and mentor:
‘You wanna know why we’re privileged to kill? I’ll tell you why! Because we do
it with style!’ he shrieked, and the night echoed with the war call of Leonard the
vampire. ‘Now get down there,’ he urged, ‘and show those pathetic bastards why
they’ll be writing books and making movies about us for centuries to come, and we
won’t drop a single line about them in our history!’
The battle roar was indescribable. I’d never heard anything like it before. Tonight
was the vampires’ moment to shine, and Leonard had just pointed them at the stage.
Hundreds of former artists, poets, musicians and dancers descended mightily from the
sky, ready to get back those fifteen minutes of fame humanity had deprived them of. In
the massive hassle in the atmosphere, Huck nudged me lightly and said:
‘If you need transport and haven’t flown a gargoyle before, we could share one…
What do you say?’
And I instantly agreed, because I had always wondered what it would be like to
fall from the roof of a building without dying as an inevitable result.

***

‘Possey, are you sure you know where we’re going?’ Velichka said hesitantly.
They were flying past a dozen worlds at a time, as far as she could see. She
hadn’t flown on the wings of an angel before. It was a little like a piggy back ride
during the ascension to the top of an amusement park tower. It was unstable and
nauseating; one would have expected more. This angel, Velichka was beginning to
feel, was not a big shot among the other angels, that was for sure.
‘We only have three hundred and twenty-two dimensions left to check,’ Possey
replied in a hurry. Velichka groaned.
‘It’s really hard holding the sword like that, trying not to burn you or myself.
Can’t you turn off the flames or something?’

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 ‘No.’ The angel sped on, and looked at her wearily. ‘You can wave it around all
you want, though, it shall not harm the righteous,’ he added. ‘One hundred and
twelve… ninety-two…’
‘How do I know if I am righteous?’ Velichka asked curiously.
‘You are, take my word for it. Seventy-three… forty-eight… thirty-one…’ he
counted. ‘She’s got to be here somewhere…’
‘So, we’re looking for an angel hiding from the other angels? Did you check
Hell, then?’
First place we searched, followed by Earth and Heaven. Twenty-five… fifteen…’
‘Are you sure you’ve checked everything? Where would she be likely to be?’
‘We have no idea. But she must be close… eleven… four… three… two…
one...’
And in the last dimension left, filled with strange fish-like creatures, Possey
stopped, scared and baffled.
‘Oh, no,’ he exclaimed in a fit of despair. ‘That’s everything! If she’s not here,
we’ll never find her!’
‘Again, are you sure you’ve checked all the dimensions?’ Velichka inquired
suspiciously.
‘All of the existing ones, yes. Not a trace…’
‘What about the non-existent ones?’
‘Impossible. All she can imagine is real to her, she’s an angel. How can you go
hide in a place you can’t even imagine?’
‘I think you’re using the wrong approach here,’ the girl pointed out cleverly.
‘Why don’t you just try to put yourself in her shoes? If you were a – what was it – a
brokenhearted angel with a miserable life, what place would you choose to go to?’
‘Hell, of course,’ Possey sighed. ‘It’s always hell. But she’s not there. It’s
pointless,’ he concluded gloomily.
‘No,’ Velichka insisted, never the quitter. ‘There must be something more. You
said… you said she had taken the form of a little girl. A little lost girl with no one to
go to. Think about it, angel. If you were a little girl, where would you run off to?’

***

Nobody was waiting to fight us on the cold, wet ground. That was a little
discouraging to me, but vampires could sniff a person out in an instant.
‘Looks like they’re throwing a party in the middle of the alley on 39,’ a vampire
who looked like a blond and handsome version of Valerius announced, then licked his
lips thirstily. ‘What do you say we crash it, huh, boys?’
There was a stifled roar of approval, and the vampires developed a direction –
both on grounds and sky – and snuck through the alleyway until they reached a small
pile of bodies on the sidewalk. A policeman and a hooker were munching them
malignantly. It was a nasty sight.
Thrilled by the scent of blood and violence, the front line vampires approached.
To them, the cannibals were but prey, like everything else.
‘Hey!’ the tallest vampire in the front yelled. ‘Leave some for us, will you?’

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 The policeman turned with something of an expression of disbelief on his face
and stared at the intruder on his meal for over a minute. He could smell he was not one
of theirs. He was different.
Therefore, the policeman decided shooting the grinning stranger in the chest a
few times in a row would be the safest thing to do. He’d finish him up for dessert. And
he shot around seven times, each of the bullets piercing a black, bleeding hole in the
stranger’s chest. The stranger winced, wobbled, and stared in bewilderment at the
scarlet stains on his white silk shirt, which were expanding, damp and fatal.
The policeman turned around and continued his interrupted brunch. Only a
moment later, though, he heard an enraged gasp behind him.
He turned again and saw the stranger still standing, but no longer grinning. In
fact, he looked as if he was about to cry.
‘You poofter!’ he whimpered. ‘Look what you did to my beautiful shirt! I took it
off one of Queen Victoria’s most trusted men, you know! It’s a relic! It’s a
masterpiece – ruined! Don’t you see? I can’t get this at a Halloween store! Why,
you…’
It is a well-known fact that vampires don’t mind being shot in the chest, unless
silver bullets are used. Their wounds heal immediately when caused by something
regular, like a knife, a gun, acid and so on. It tickles a bit, they say, and some are fond
of it, the way some people are fond of the feeling of getting a tattoo. But they are most
certainly not fond of anyone ruining their clothes. This was why, I figured out, the
vampires had gone to war today in their finest shirts and blouses. It wasn’t just to show
them off, although that had something to do with it too. But it was also because they’d
do anything to protect their apparel from harm. It would work as well as armor.
This vampire’s short, however, wasn’t lucky. And neither was the policeman.
The hooked sprinted away on her high heels, calling someone on her cell phone
as she ran, and just as the vampires on land caught up with her, she managed to say, in
the speaker, something along the lines of: ”Um, Ted… we have a problem… Send us
some back-up, fast!”
For about an hour vampires killed, maimed, looted, broke necks, drank blood,
and in a word had the best of fun in a world where everyone they met had to die – in a
way, they were carrying out a social service. For about an hour, vampires did this in
every part of the world they could reach – and some of them even discovered that
serving justice tasted better than stealing innocence. For about an hour, every vampire
formerly a human had his revenge for every underappreciated painting or mocked
poem of theirs.
About an hour later, special military units, SWAT teams, police forces, air
forces, professional shooters, and anyone who could walk and hold a gun at the same
time sprouted out of nowhere and occupied the terrain where the threat to society
wreaked their righteous vengeance upon the world that had blackballed them.
The vampires saw the real war coming. As they lined up and spread out for
battle, some of them sighed – they’d mourn many a good shirt tonight, they knew.
Well, what the hell, they decided; if that was going to happen anyway, they why not at
least drench them in somebody else’s blood?

***

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 Elizabeth, who was not a vampire in most senses, was walking around cheerfully
in a world ordered made and designed in accordance with her imagination – a world
safe from harm and filled with sunshine, flowers and unicorns. Valerius was grumpily
following her through the sunny fields, carrying an umbrella, because a vampire’s
word meant something. Still, he realized he could very easily be burnt to ashes at the
slightest touch of a sunbeam on his skin. He was beginning to regret not having gone
to war as he was calling out for Liz to walk slower. No war could ever be this scary.
As he tripped through the fields of daisies and waved off the horrible pink
butterflies, Valerius stumbled upon a strange object. It turned out to be the foot of a
girl, but this girl was not Liz; she was much older, dark-haired, and had a huge
revolting scar on her left cheek.
‘What are you doing here, child?’ he asked rather cautiously, thoroughly covered
with the umbrella. And why are you crying?’
‘I lost my mommy and daddy,’ sobbed the little girl, looking up helplessly at
Valerius. ‘Will you be my mommy and daddy?’

***

It was a bad day for Roger J. Waters.

He had just finished snacking on his uncle (from his mother’s side of the family)
and he was feeling fairly well, when they called him out to resume his old job – which
he hadn’t practiced for days – as a pilot. Twenty men in the helicopter were waiting to
drop down or start shooting their snipers, because obviously something big was getting
down everywhere. An unexpected attack… was it the Russians? He pondered over the
thought. He was told they dressed kind of French, or maybe even Italian… Nah, it had
to be the Russians. No one could pull this off but the Russians.
So Roger J. Waters wasn’t having a very good day at the moment and his day got
slightly worse when the helicopter suddenly shook mightily. There had to be
something wrong, but nothing was heard breaking, and the noise died down quickly.
Roger decided there was probably a storm coming. The sky was filled with all these
small black clouds moving up and down. But there was nothing in the sky actually
flying but him, the radar indicated. And the radar never lied.
The weirdest thing about Roger’s day was probably the moment when, fifteen
minutes after the brief jolt, an extremely beautiful woman in a long red dress entered
the pilot’s cabin, sat in his lap and started kissing him passionately. Instantly, Roger
forgot about everything – that he didn’t do such things with strangers, that he was a
married man (he was planning on having his wife for dinner, though) and that he had a
helicopter to fly. He was so thoroughly consumed, as if spellbound, by the thrilling act,
that he didn’t hear a soft, male voice next to him say the words “move over, sweetie,
we’ll take it from here”, and that the helicopter soon got filled with disturbing noises,
strongly reminding of muffled screams.
The only thing he did feel just as he was beginning to enjoy himself was two
massively painful stabs in the area of his jugular vein, and a feeling of dizziness he
would have compared to the one when donating blood… And then, Roger J. Waters

169
felt he had lost too much blood, but was too weak to do anything about it, and thus his
bad day ended badly, and so did his life. Still, a muffled, yet shrill mechanical voice
continued speaking in the cabin even after his death:
‘Roger, do you copy? Cougar, do you read me? Did you take care of the riots in
the west side of town? This is Eagle 43. We’re heading towards the north side, and
there’s a unit heading for the town centre in twenty. Cougar, do you read me? Did you
get them?’
‘We got ‘em, Eagle 43,’ Leonard the vampire replaced Roger in the pilot’s seat
of the cabin, and replied readily: ‘Can you give me the coordinates of the unit? North
side, you said? Thanks, Eagle 43.’
‘Cougar! Cougar!’ the voice rattled. ‘Cougar, do you read me? We’re headed
north, yes, do you copy? Be there in a minute. Sure you got ‘em?’
‘Roger, Eagle 43,’ the vampire confirmed, blood smeared all over his face and
shirt, failing to cover only his maniacal grin. ‘No more riots in the west side. It was
almost too easy.’

***

Of course, not everyone was as gallant as he was. The gargoyles crashed planes
and swallowed people with parachutes whole. The harpies were simply deafening
them, disturbing signals and radars and tearing the crash escapees apart. But we, who
fought on the ground, found it the most difficult to cope.
I was trying to hit, kick or injure whoever I could, but it wasn’t working out very
well. I could still not believe I’d dodged so many bullets. I wasn’t nearly immortal,
like vampires. A regular bullet would forever damage more than just my clothing.
And the people were learning. They were slowly giving up stabbing and
shooting, and took to alternative methods like using flamethrowers, grenades, sharp
wooden objects, and running when the distance between them and the vampires wasn’t
big enough. I admired the vampires, I couldn’t deny – marching fearlessly forth
towards their enemies, walking proudly, suavely, elegantly, in their shirts of white silk
and black satin, as if they were moving in slow motion. They were a beautiful sight to
behold… until they started breaking necks, bashing heads in, eating hearts out – they
were truly atrocious, furious, flawless fighters – and decapitating their opponents with
their own cold weapons. I didn’t see a vampire shoot, not once – they preferred ways
of killing that involved a lot of blood-gushing, tearing and cutting, the way I preferred
color paintings to pencil drawings. I was fighting beside Rheetah, who had already
switched to her wolf form as the bloodlust took over her, and Huck was struggling
with a few lawsuit cannibals who were trying to set them on fire – but in the end he
managed to mangle them in several movements so heartless and severe that I
shuddered and nearly let an underage cannibal kill me. The fight went on for about
five hours straight, and when I could neither breathe nor move with pain and
exhaustion, something primal in me got enraged, too tired, desperate and threatened to
think about morality, and this something unlocked the wolf and released it, and I could
see clearer than ever in the red mist; it was like morning coffee to me, charging me
with energy, hunger and fury, and I splashed blood all over and around me as Rheetah
and I advanced relentlessly through the maddening crowd… and I thought I saw

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Thomas Downey somewhere too, still alive, fighting a nurse, who was beating the hell
out of him… and, through the scarlet curtain, I found it funny that he was as bad a
fighter as he was a kisser, and I grinned at him, but in this form of mine he must have
misinterpreted it… and he shuddered, his face and arms heavily scarred – by me,
undoubtedly… and I grinned once more, as he would probably never be handsome
again... and then, the mist consumed me, and in one moment I was out there, growling,
leaping and fighting for the innocent ones, while in the next one I was cold, and numb,
and out, and the beast was out there killing…
…I did not know how many hours, or days had passed… I did not know who had
died or was still alive… I didn’t know the location of any of my friends… all I could
see every couple of hours was Leonard’s deranged bloody grin, accompanied by wild
shrieks and cackles, and he was laughing in the sea of blood that was raining over him,
his pure white shirt now completely drenched in red, and he leapt, like a wild cat, from
one charging or running person to another, ending life after life, slicing screaming
bodies in half with so much as pocket knives… and the moon and sky grew crimson as
one battle ended and another began… and, inexplicably, the beast found this scene to
be gorgeous and enchanting… and I believe I must have howled at the bloodstained
moon in morbid ecstasy, freer than ever, stronger than ever, not a shade of doubt in my
head that this was the right thing for me to be doing…
It was hell of Earth, and in my fogged mind, it was heaven. Heaven, to us, was
painted red. This was war – a word no longer scary, but delicious, powerful,
tempting… there was something about it the human being could not conceive…
But even still, they joined in. People in hiding started rising up as the days passed
and we were winning… they gathered, armed with their private guns and kitchen
knives and trembling fists, and came to help us, us, the damned, who fought to kill, not
to save lives… And yet, a moral fiber we had, because the innocent ones smelled so
differently to us from the ones who’d killed and deserved the same fate – they smelled
like snow white flowers in the spring… and the sinners… the sinners... they only
smelled of blood…
And out of those two fragrances, one delicate and soothing, another maddening
and drugging, heaven was born.
In war we had heaven, and in heaven we had freedom. And freedom was what
we were fighting for. At last, we knew.
This full moon, heaven smelled like blood and flowers.

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 Chapter Seventeen
Dirt

I woke up, shuddered and felt like a frightened child. I only wanted to go back to
sleep again, to prove to myself that this had only been a nightmare. Alas, it wasn’t.
I was lying on cold, bloody ground. I wished I didn’t remember everything I’d
done. Everything we’d done. It was unforgivable. I’d been out of control, again. But
all that blood and that screaming…
‘You should get some more rest,’ I heard a soothing voice flow near my ear. ‘It’s
been a long day for you.’
‘How long have we been fighting?’ I asked mechanically and turned to see who
was asking. It was Huck.
‘Five days,’ he informed me. ‘You needed this break. We all did. They’ll come
back for us, probably with different means, although we’ve occupied the skies over
town, the buildings, and the ground spaces. But they’re still outnumbering us greatly.
We can’t kill them all, anyway. We shouldn’t.’
Huck had awoken the pathetic remnants of my conscience. I whined, and sighed
bitterly.
‘I’ll have a VIP spot in hell,’ I stated. ‘Huck sat by my side on the dirty ground.
‘Listen… this will be over soon. It has to… I know you’ll feel terrible about
this… but you need to tell yourself to save the remorse for later. So far, your fury is
the only thing that has kept you alive… that, and the full moon. When it starts waning,
you won’t be able to protect yourself, and neither will we be able to protect you. So
far, we have been lucky,’ Huck added grimly, ‘to still be alive. There are many
casualties in our rows. We can’t fight a whole world so much more populated and
advanced than ours. They’re discovering our weaknesses. If they bomb us – we’re
through. This needs to end soon.’
‘How long until the full moon starts waning?’ I asked. ‘That’s how much we’ve
got, right?’
‘Yes. That’s three days. This is the sixth one.’
‘What? Nine days? Nine days of full moon?’
‘Nights, to be exact. The cycles are getting really messed up. The reality of the
curse is all wrong and too unstable to keep everything together. Hence the anomalies.
God knows what might come next…’
‘Don’t talk to me about God. There is no god for the likes of us.’
I sighed again, and pushed my emotions back into their holiday tomb.
‘Have we… um… lost anyone of ours? I mean… a friend.’
‘No. Leonard is fine, a small explosion barely grazed him. Rheetah’s arm was
mangled a few hours ago, but she can live with a couple of few scars. Your friend
Savrax is at the western barricades, so he is safe.’
‘We have barricades now?’
‘Do you think you’re just lying unprotected here in the middle of the street?’

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 I tried to stand up slowly. Every single bone in my body screamed in agony. This
dark morning, heaven felt like hell. I’d better get used to it, I thought, ‘cause that’s
where I’m going when I’m dead.
‘What about that angel girl?’ I asked. ‘Has she been found yet?’
‘No, not yet. But they are looking. Jake passes by briefly every five hours or so
in case any information comes up. You’re not going to believe it. I saw him fight,
using little more than a frying pan and a piece of an old sweater. He’s freaking
invincible.’
‘Told you he was good at what he does.’
‘He said he was going to try to talk some and demons into joining the battle.
They’ll be of use. We’ll need something to protect us from a potential fire. We’re not
wizards, you know.’
‘I hope that works,’ I said blankly. I wasn’t sure if I had anything left to feel.
‘Oh, and a tall man with long black hair came to see you about an hour ago. Said
he was, um, your guardian demon. He’s guarding your house at the moment, even
though he was ordered otherwise.’
‘Frankie was here?’ I exclaimed in a slight parody of elation. ‘Oh, God… no, it’s
okay… the person he was going to guard can do magic and stuff... and fight… and
since the rules are unstable now… You know, Frankie’s got some powers we could
use, too. He’s not thinking of dying anymore, is he?’
‘I’m afraid he is.’ Huck sighed. ‘He stared into the bloody nothingness for a
while. ‘I’m sorry, Wera, he’s made up his mind. But he truly cares for you, I think. He
made me promise I’d keep you safe.’
‘He does indeed.’ I was getting sick of empty, impassive silences. ‘Listen, we
need a plan. We can’t count on Frankie or angels and demons just yet. We need to
come up with something that will defend us against the next move.’
‘We can only hope the angel is found soon.’
‘No, we need to do something now. Otherwise, if she’s not found in three days,
we’ll have to move out or die slowly and either way, this world will be lost to us. I
can’t let this happen. I have a boring, unbearable normal life in it!’ I amazed myself
when I thought that I might actually miss that life if I were never to get back to it. ‘Oh,
damn, it would have been so much easier if we were fighting other vampires… I’d just
kiss them and they’d die…’ And then, the idea briefly grazed my mind as it flew past.
‘Holy hell! I’ve got it!’ I shouted with something that could have passed as joy, and
Huck seemed equally thrilled to hear it, too. ‘Get me to my house,’ I commanded.
‘Use a gargoyle, anything you can think of. I need to be there in ten minutes. There is
something I need to do…’

***

‘In that case, you should definitely not forgive him,’ Valerius advised, nodding
his head with terminal certainty.
Cocaine had explained her entire situation to him. He had somehow inspired her
to share. He knew who she was, and that he cold have stopped the war if he’d just
convinced her – and that would have been easy – to forgive Jeremy and lift the curse.
But Valerius was evil, which meant that he was honest and unbiased in those exact

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moments in which good people inevitably lied. So he expressed his sincere opinion on
the subject, and ruined the whole thing.
Still, he was getting bored here. Cocaine and Liz had decided to play a game. He
was keeping the conversation going out of common courtesy. But deep down inside,
Valerius realized that, as much as he couldn’t care less about this or that cause or war,
somewhere out there people and vampires were dying. Innocent blood was being shed.
And all of this was happening at unbelievably horrific rates that very moment in an
entire world.
Valerius damned himself. He was missing all the fun.

***
Prior to the beginning of the war, I had briefly thought about summoning the
Devil as a joke. Now, I thought I deserved laughing at myself because of this
assumption.
I was standing beside the window of my room, which was where I had met him
both times when I’d called him over. Summoning the Devil was not that hard, contrary
to most popular beliefs. You just had to think of destroying everything good in you or,
in the cases when there was no time for that, write him a letter.
It had worked the second time, and that was what I was doing now. Writing a
letter to the Devil. Luckily, his correspondence was almost always satisfactory. Satan
did reply more often than Santa, that had to be given to him.
And this time I summoned him because, since God had forsaken us, we could use
an ally like the Devil in the fight… and I thought, hey, if victory was just a kiss or two
away, why not?
But things didn’t work that way.
‘Hmm,’ the Devil said to me in a lazy, dragged out voice, a nearly flawless copy
of Leonard standing before me in a jeans and black jacket. ‘The outcome of a war…
that is a pretty serious deal, darling. You don’t honestly think that a single kiss is going
to pay for that deal, are you?’
‘I’m up for more than one,’ I retorted bravely. ‘How much past first base would
you like us to go?’
‘Honey,’ the Devil shook his pretty blond head, ‘I think you are missing the
point. I’m not interested in your body – not that there is anything wrong with it – and
neither do I care for whatever imitations of love you can display before me. You know
exactly what I want, what I’ve wanted and will want from you, the single small fee I
expect of anyone negotiating with me to pay me. And that is your soul,’ he smiled
softly. ‘Forgive me if I am so direct, but I have little time. Think about it, Wera –
you’re probably going to hell anyway. What do you need your soul for? I believe
you’ve kept me waiting long enough.’
‘That’s a price too high,’ I muttered blankly. ‘For anyone and anything. You
know I can’t do this. I’m very, very sorry.’
‘The price is only high because the service is expensive. This is very reasonable,
Wera. You could buy off the lives of your friends with this. Who knows what might
happen to them in the future…’
‘I’m sorry.’ For that, I would never give in. Wicked I may be, and maybe that
made me even more wicked, but to the point that I defined myself as me, to the bottom

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of my soul I would protect it from harm, even if the whole world were to collapse
around me. This was probably evil. I didn’t care. This was who I was.
The Devil shook his head in disappointment.
‘You are such a strange one, Wera,’ he reflected with a small, twisted smile.
‘You summon me here, expecting to close a deal with me at a price I obviously won’t
settle for. You’re willing to feel my wrath rather than ensure the safety of your loved
ones – all for something silly, ghostly, useless – like a soul.’
‘If it were that useless, you wouldn’t want it so much,’ I growled. Today, he was
not the beast bit charming.
‘Fair enough, fair enough. Aw well, I shall leave you to your business then,
Wera, and I have lots of my own to attend to. I wish you the best of luck in your battle,
and be careful on your way to the fight… you never know what might happen. See you
soon… not too soon, I hope… but you never know…’
He left a small scent of roses and perfume behind, with a hidden tincture of
death. I walked out, disappointed and pale. My plan had failed. I hadn’t expected it to
work, anyway, but I thought the Devil was interested in things remaining the same on
Earth… but maybe he was entertained… With him, you never knew.
The streets outside stank of death, on the other hand. I was silent, distracted and
gloomy. It seemed, for a moment, that there was no escaping the hell that had seemed
like heaven the previous nights. I’d be stuck in a damp, scarlet heaven forever…
Through the blur of my thoughts, absent-mindedly, I saw Frankie the fiend
throwing himself at me with distant, muffled shouts. I didn’t understand what was
going on, but he didn’t get to me in time. Mere moments after I’d walked out on my
street, a ball of steaming, searing fire swept us all. Another explosion followed on the
other side of the road. It erupted through the glass of a shop window, and it was
shredded in millions of angry shards that rained in every direction like tiny arrows,
sharp, countless and lethal.
I fell to the ground, hoping to evade the hellish storm of glass and fire. For a
moment, there was nothing in the world but light, and pain, and noise, and then
gunshots filled my collapsing universe, and the last thing I saw before I totally lost it
was a heavily armed man in green determinately pointing a rifle at me... The moment I
saw that, I knew that I’d see Satan a lot sooner than I’d hoped to. That was his
revenge. Hell hath no fury like a Devil scorned.
A part of me found this funny; I took a deep breath, kissed my soul goodbye and
completely lost my mind.
And then – that was probably some time after I’d lost my mind, no doubt – I saw
a dark velvet silhouette rush into the scene, and I was pretty sure I saw Valerius stab
the shooter in the neck with a silver dagger, whilst riding a freaking unicorn.

***

That couldn’t possibly be hell. It was cool, dark, damp and resembled an old
abandoned house. I stirred on something soft. I had almost forgotten what cotton
sheets felt like.

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 The moment I saw Valerius’ face floating in the air above me I knew I wasn’t in
hell. Hell had no room for Valerius. He was worthy of having an improved subdivision
of the inferno worse than hell itself just for himself.
Right now, he was grinning happily, and I was aching all over, which meant that
I was alive, and my knight on a sparkly white unicorn – where the hell had he got his
hands on that? – had transported me to a safer location.
‘Nice horse,’ I coarsely uttered the first sarcastic remark that sprang to mind.
Valerius didn’t mock me back.
‘You wouldn’t believe me if I told you where I got it,’ he replied matter-of-
factly. ‘I found the angel you’re all looking for, by the way.’
I tried springing up out of the bed in a sudden rush of adrenaline, and I would
have probably succeeded, if the vampire hadn’t pushed me back into my previous
position. As a result, I hit my head badly.
‘Ow!’ I protested. ‘Haven’t gotten much sweeter since we last met, have you?’
‘You just lie there now,’ Valerius advised. ‘You’re not in the state to fight, and
I’m sure that’s what you’ll run off doing if I told you more about what was happening.
But, a long story short, the good guys are alive, your demon friend is doing some
weird stuff to fend off the explosions, and the repented rockstar is advancing towards
the angel’s location, now that I’ve informed everyone of it. It won’t be a big deal if
you miss a day of the battle. You need to rest, and I’m too lazy to take you out there
again.’ He pushed me harshly back again with a frown as he saw me trying to be
stubborn. ‘You’re not severely injured. But you haven’t got one bit of strength in you
to carry on right now.’
I grimly accepted my condition. Valerius was right. Even if I did manage to get
out of bed, I wouldn’t reach the door. The moon outside was bright and shiny, and its
pale, soft light was pouring into the old dusty room. If it weren’t for the screams and
shootings, one would think there was no war going on.
‘What made you come back?’ I asked the vampire weakly. ‘I thought you didn’t
see any point in wasting your time fighting for ghosts?’
‘I don’t,’ he replied in a meek voice. ‘I just got bored. I see you’re still fighting
for yours, though, aren’t you?’ he raised the imminent eyebrow.
I smiled feebly. Even if it wasn’t much, it was the first real smile that had
haunted my face in a long time. I felt flattered.
‘Yeah,’ I admitted. ‘I thought that they had all gone away… but when I went out
there, I saw there was something worth fighting for after all.’
‘Ah,’ Valerius produced a small smirk. ‘Still holding on to your delusions, I see.
What a shame. And I thought there was hope for you.’
‘There isn’t,’ I said hollowly. ‘I did many terrible things these days. I don’t know
how I’ll be able to forgive myself.’
‘You will,’ the vampire assured me, staring distractedly in the direction of the
window, ‘and you will do so quicker than you’ve ever imagined. Tell me,’ he added,
‘would you blame a wild animal for hunting down its prey?’
I’d heard this little speech on numerous occasions in my life. Usually, it would
come from my own mouth.
‘Of course not. That’s its nature. It has no conscience. I do, on the other hand.’

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 ‘Fair enough. Would you blame a human being, then, for eating meat products,
even though he or she could go without them?’
‘No, I wouldn’t. I myself believe that nature is mostly about predator and prey,
and people are no exception.’
‘Then you wouldn’t blame yourself for doing what you’ve done either,’ Valerius
concluded calmly. ‘Problem solved. It’s just the way it is. Ghosts are pretty, but they
won’t fill your stomach.’
He gazed dreamily into the moon in the haunting silence. I could swear he was
ready to sigh. I didn’t see this coming from someone so cynical. His controversial
personality amused me.
‘What do you believe in, then?’ I teased him as he was obviously trying to focus
on the moonlight. ‘Okay, I know you said you didn’t waste your time believing in
things… but then what is it that’s worth wasting your time with? What’s this passion
of yours anyway; what do you collect?’
Valerius laughed a long, exquisite laugh following that, tilting his head back in
laughter which seemed all too dramatic and compulsory. With his black cloak
brimmed with red, and that theatrical laughter of his, he ought to volunteer for a role in
“The Phantom of the Opera”, I thought secretly to myself.
‘These are too many questions too complicated to be answered so fast,’ he began,
turning his head towards me. After a bit of contemplation, he suspected I wouldn’t let
him watch the sky in peace, and sat beside me at the bed’s corner. ‘But I will tell you
what I am a collector of. I am a collector of feelings, impressions, experiences.’
‘What, because you don’t have any of your own?’ I jeered. ‘Gosh, that’s so sad.’
‘That is most probably true,’ the vampire agreed, looking away. I immediately
regretted my previous words. Now, Valerius seemed still and cold. ‘Now, you see, I
expect of you to look at me and envision some horrid tragic story lurking in the
shadows of my childhood, my mortal life, or my early years as who I am today. The
truth is,’ he continued blankly, ‘that my lifetime, before vampirism and after, has not
been marked by any particularly thrilling events. No terrible tragedies, no tremendous
joys, no great achievements, no romantic conquests worth being told. However, it
might surprise you that I have not always been this… level-headed,’ he confessed with
a brief blink. I didn’t let this detail escape me.
‘Level-headed?’ I repeated. ‘I’d say you’re downright heartless sometimes.
Nothing touches you, it seems. Maybe I am headed this way, too, but you… you’re a
professional. I suppose the only way for you to develop your wits and your sarcasm to
such a level was for you to get your emotions out of the way.’
‘Ah, but in my world, after three hundred years, wits count for not, Vera,’
Valerius replied with the faintest shade of disappointment in his voice. ‘As does
everything, for that matter. If you allow yourself to be as clever and witty as you can
be, sooner or later you will be clever enough to realize that nothing in this world is
noble enough to justify the human – or vampire – existence. Life becomes dull,
monotonous and pointless when the last drop of idealism is drained from you. And
indulging in petty amusements is not enough to treat this emptiness. One needs to find
a thrill to keep him going. Which is why I need my passion so much,’ he added. ‘It’s
the only passion that I’ve got.’

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 ‘Does it help?’ I asked. Valerius was a dim silhouette, radiating nothing but cold.
I realized I ought to feel sorry for him, but I couldn’t bring myself to, as the constant
imperturbability he emanated indicated that he would have little or no use for my
sympathy. ‘Seeking out new experiences? Is it a good enough substitute for a proper
meaning in life?’
Valerius shook his head against the moonlight.
‘At first, it is,’ he uttered quietly. ‘One could go very far solely on the hope that
there are so many new things yet to experience. But I am three centuries old, my dear.
I have seen it all, tried it all, felt it all – and none of it stirred a nerve in my sold out
soul, none of it made my heart skip a beat even when it still could. Now, all I can do is
laugh at the pointlessness of it all, because there is no more point in crying than there
is in laughter, but laughter is the more pleasant out of the two… The only thing I’ve
yet to experience for myself is an equinox. That silly little myth. And that is why this,’
he pointed a long, peaked finger at the scratched and stained gold necklace, which had
somehow survived the battles and was hanging stoically from my neck, ‘is of so much
value to me. Because, you see, once I’ve discovered its essence, I will either see that
there is absolutely nothing in any world worth living for, or – and I doubt the latter – I
will come across something amazing that will change me forever. Either way, this will
be very… interesting,’ he finished with something similar to content in his voice. I
shrugged.
‘Have you ever been in love?’ I muttered quietly.
The vampire grinned morbidly at the opposite wall.
‘Yes,’ he said through gritted teeth, this time with a fair amount of self-irony.
‘Several times. Each of them I thought I had been blessed with the greatest love of all
time. You can’t imagine how wrong I was.’
‘Oh, I can,’ I disagreed peacefully. ‘Love is overrated. It’s every bit as strong as
they say it is, it can be a force more destructive than hatred. And yet, it doesn’t change
your world. It doesn’t make it a brighter place once and for all.’
For the first time since the beginning of the dispute, Valerius turned to look at
me, and stared in amazement, with his widest, most human ironic grin.
‘What do we have here?’ he purred wickedly. ‘You surprised me, Vera. From
you, I expected to either hear a long, passionate speech in defense of true love, or a
steely rant of fiery venom, the one typical for every woman recently bruised by a
romance gone bad. But I never expected you to admit that love, at the end of the day,
doesn’t change your world. I thought your world revolved around abstract ghost
bodies like love and purity and such, and changed in accordance with their evolution.’
‘It used to,’ I sighed. Valerius looked me in the eyes, and I felt better heard than I
did before, when he had his back turned on me, speaking to the wall and reeking of
superiority and ice. There was something strangely soothing now, about the soft look
of his insightful greenish eyes locked in between the sharp features of his face. ‘I’ve
felt my faith in all those things I held dear, like love, virtue, purity and such, draining
away lately. When you see something for what it really is, it is much harder to keep on
believing in it. But love… love is not an issue anymore. Love I don’t need to mourn,’ I
confessed. ‘It is the loss of innocence that torments me the most.’
‘The loss of what?’ Valerius uttered, his face briefly twitching with disgust.

178
 ‘Innocence,’ I repeated grimly. ‘I always wanted to be innocent, ever since I was
a little girl, and I really thought I had it, as a part of my soul… But now I see that I
never did,’ I explained while Valerius was looking more and more disappointed with
me. ‘I tried to bring innocence into the matters of love… and you can imagine what a
monumental failure I experienced.’
Valerius sighed and shook his head, like a strict, exhausted parent seeing their
child painting on the walls with strawberry jam.
‘I don’t believe in innocence,’ he stated firmly, ‘because there is none. This is
probably the greatest mirage in the world. In my lifetime, I have never seen innocence,
I’ve never tasted or touched it, and I’m sure I never will. And neither will you.’
‘I tried so hard to find it, cultivate it, cherish it, preserve it,’ I complained. ‘I
wanted to live in a pure way, love somebody in a pure way. I thought that some day,
somehow, I would manage to avoid the dirt…’
The vampire smiled a friendly, condescending smile at me.
‘Everything in our worlds is dirt, Vera, especially in love,’ he explained dryly,
and his glance fled back to the patch of moonlight by the window. He patted me
encouragingly on the shoulder. ‘You just haven’t found your type of dirt yet.’
I grunted skeptically.
‘I don’t believe you will be able to convince me that there is a type of dirt that I
could like,’ I said. Valerius defeated me with a grin.
‘Well, maybe blood is your type of dirt.’
‘What? Oh, come on, I’m not that bloodthirsty when I am entirely myself!’
‘By blood, I meant suffering. Sorrow, melancholy, sentimental stuff. Inner
darkness. That’s your kind of dirt, I’m guessing. You hold on to your tattered faith in
innocence, desperately hoping that everything – and everyone – is purer in the dark.
Oh, but the dark is the place where the most atrocious sins take place, girl. Purity – in
light, darkness, sorrow, and even in your dying loved one’s arms – simply doesn’t
exist. There is only dirt.’
Inexplicably, that statement made the world seem a bit brighter; made worrying
about my fading innocence a little bit pointless. It wasn’t until then that I realized how
much I craved to be relieved of that burden. I was tired of my life’s quest.
I sat up and watched the slowly waning moon for a while next to Valerius. In its
own way, it was relaxing, just sitting there marveling at the beauty of the night sky,
not thinking about war, not thinking about purity and dirt, not thinking about life at all.
It was as though we were already dead. It was a highly underestimated feeling.
Valerius was gazing, quiet and still, smiling lightly, blinking lazily and softly at
my reflection in the stained window. He, of course, had none. The wind was whistling
gently underneath the door of the room.
‘There’s just one thing I don’t understand,’ I grinned, some long forgotten
cheerfulness returning to me all of a sudden. ‘Since you do not care about anything…
and since you keep making fun of those with shallow, mortal understandings of the
world… how come you get to indulge in something as shallow as painting your nails
black? Is there any dark secret behind it?’ I teased. Valerius shyly looked down at his
nails.
‘The truth is,’ he replied, with a nearly sentimental note in his voice, ‘that,
unfortunately, I have my foolish sides as well. I simply think it looks cool.’

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 I laughed at him, the way I’d laugh at a friend – harmlessly, spitelessly, with a bit
of attachment to the person’s flaws and weaknesses.
The vampire’s eyes narrowed mischievously in response. He smirked, leapt forth,
and, grabbing the edge of the sheets I was covered with, revealed my bare toes in a
mere fraction of a second, thus nearly giving me a heart attack with his abrupt
movements. Afterwards, he sat back triumphantly. He had managed to embarrass me
once again.
My toenails were painted red. For some reason, I liked the way the bold color of
blood stood against pale skin. I had tried it a few months ago for the first time, just to
see what it would look like, and it had become a habit ever since.
‘Black and red,’ Valerius murmured, his usual smirk stuck on his face. ‘It never
gets old.’
To my own astonishment, horror and various other emotions I didn’t want to
admit feeling, he reached out a spider-like hand towards my right foot, took it carefully
by the ankle, and thoughtfully examined the words on my tattoo.
I shuddered. My stomach was a tangled contracting mess. I hadn’t forgotten what
had happened in that dream of mine.
‘Charming,’ the vampire commented on the tattoo, but the condescendingly
raised eyebrow spoke more sincerely than his words. ‘Hm… you’re a rather puzzling
person. Perhaps I was too rash in drawing a conclusion about your type of dirt. Now
that I’m looking at you, I’d expect it to be anything.’
There is probably not a single woman in the world that doesn’t enjoy being
called unpredictable. I, for one thing, knew this would never be true about me. But it
still felt good to hear.
‘Me,’ I began, ‘I need to hear something very specific from somebody if I am to
indulge in his, um, dirt. You know… something that this person truly means, not just
something that they know I’d like to hear. Something that will bring some meaning
into… into the dirt.’
I very nearly blushed. Valerius, on the other hand, seemed to have his reasons to
contemplate on that.
‘You mean a compliment? Something that explains the reasons why this person
would be interested in you, and at the same provides you with the certainty that he
does, indeed, like you for the right reasons?’
‘Yes, exactly… it’ll have to be something most people wouldn’t like about me,
though. Something obvious, but meaningful. Something that speaks of me as a
person.’
Valerius stared at the moonlit sky again.
‘Like,’ he began slowly, as if he was trying to come up with a complicated
theory, ‘say, your physique, for example? Aw, come on, you know what I mean.
You’d want him to compliment you on that which is frightening about you… on that
very line where tenderness and elegance border on the tormented, on the distant echo
of suffering, deprivation and horror that is imprinted on an undernourished body such
as yours. And, I am sure you take great pride in that torment, that deprivation that your
very figure speaks of,’ his face was blank as he reflected. My jaw had dropped. ‘And
I’m sure you say to your lovers that you want them to want you for who you are, but
what you really want is for them to take notice of what you’re lacking, what you’ve

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endured, what you’ve survived… But, in the end, from a strictly biological point of
view, the only thing that a thin body is lacking is food, a vital source of energy for
every individual, a source of life, if you will – and the only thing that makes a thin
wrapping of a thin soul appear the way it does is, of course, hunger. That is the single
clearest thing your looks, behavior, and words speak of. So, in other words, the ideal
compliment for you would be: I’m attracted to your hunger. Am I right?’ he asked,
beaming darkly at me.
‘Not even close!’ I was outraged, or at least I thought I was. ‘That was not at all
the thing I would have wanted to hear!’
‘Then I must have said the right thing,’ Valerius concluded contentedly.
Something made me look desperately around. The vampire was looking directly
at my face, and that was more than unusual for him. For a moment, I saw something
very wrong with the situation. I didn’t want to draw any rash conclusions, but I
remained alert, just in case.
‘Um… are you?’ I mumbled nervously, hoping I’d never know the answer.
‘Am I what?’
‘Attracted to my hunger?’ War could never be as frightening as that moment.
The eyes of the vampire rolled in their orbits mysteriously, and his face acquired
a malicious grin as he savored the seconds of my torture while he deliberately delayed
the answer.
‘That depends. Are you attracted to mine?’
There are the moments in a person’s life when they’re faced with the realization
that their face and another person’s face have suddenly become situated much closer
than they are supposed to. I covered mine with a hand in embarrassment.
‘No, no, this is ridiculous!’ I whimpered, trying not to look at Valerius’
shameless grin at all. ‘I know what you’re trying to do!’ I said through the palm of my
hand. ‘You’re trying to kill yourself, because you’ve got nothing left to feel in your
life! I won’t let you!’
I tried to move as far away from him as possible. He responded with a clueless,
innocent laugh.
‘Why would you think I am trying to kill myself?’
‘Oh, don’t give me that! I can see what you’re doing! Attracted to my hunger,
blah blah, that’s just mind candy! You’re trying to get me to kiss you, and you know
that you will die if I do, the saliva of the werewolves and no-turners is lethal to the – ’
‘Spare me the chemistry lecture,’ the vampire groaned, annoyed. ‘Yes, I know all
of that, thank you. And I am most certainly not out to die, not tonight, that’s for sure.’
He sighed, stood up, shook his head irritably, and gave me a cold, weary look. ‘I think
it’s time you gave me what was mine from the start, Vera,’ he said, extending an
implacable hand in expectation. ‘Yes, the medallion. Come on, now. There’s nothing
in it for you. It won’t lead you to the equinox. It won’t lead you to truth, happiness,
innocence, or a goddamn dark nirvana. Hand it over. I’m tired of waiting.’
I ogled him, revolted, then took the necklace off my neck in several abrupt,
offended movements, and slapped the pendant angrily in his hand.
‘You don’t deserve it,’ I scowled.

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 Valerius eyed the pendant with reverence, smiled gently at it, and carefully drew
the thin golden chain over his neck. When he did so, he looked sinister, confident and
royal. It made me sick.
‘And now,’ he turned to me with a meek smile, a smile that stunned me with the
amount of care and humanity in it, and for a moment I cursed myself for being so
damn emotional for no good reason right now, and wished to go back to the state of
spiritual numbness, ‘I will show you what it can do.’
He sat by me on the bed again, to my renewed horror (this guy simply didn’t give
up!), and tried to muster a warm, earnest appearance. It didn’t work.
‘Vera,’ he uttered, ‘I do not see why this should be so complicated. I do not see
any sense in us playing hunter and hunted until the morning comes. I don’t want to
manipulate you, of all people I know, and whatever I say to you with the intention of
making a good impression on you will be a lie, we both know that. And I’m sure
you’re tired of lies. So I’ll be straight with you: yes, I am drawn to your hunger. Yes,
that makes me a beast, and it doesn’t surprise me, as there is barely any man left in me
after all these years. And no, I am not out here to steal your innocence, your heart, or
any other valuable possession of yours. To be honest, I do not find them valuable
enough to steal.’ He blinked, and his face became perfectly serious, and his voice grew
into a tense, tormented whisper: ‘But I’ll be damned, I am a collector. I collect the
essences of things, the fragrance of every mirage, the taste of every experience I find
worth exploring. And if this ingredient in you that I am hunting down tonight is never
meant to reach me,’ his hands trembled ominously as he said that, and his eyes
glistened, maniacal, desperate, pining, ‘then, forgive me for saying it, but any
prolonging of my dry, tedious existence would be completely, excruciatingly
meaningless. Understand?’
The vampire was still looking at me tensely. He did seem perfectly ready to die. I
felt like I was in a stupid movie.
‘Listen,’ I began, saddened, threatened, and most of all terrified, trying to come
up with a way to talk him out of his stupid plan. ‘This is a little overdramatic for you.
Narrowing your existence down to one single pursuit… I’ve been there, and it doesn’t
end well… There are other things… what about the equinox, and – ’
‘To hell with the equinox,’ Valerius hissed.
The moon was doing its job. There was more than one kind of hunger out there, I
realized. I was supposed to be scared, I knew, but I was only scared for his life,
because he was beckoning me to kill him, and given the way it had to be done, I
wasn’t sure if I could resist the offer…
‘But… but…’ I whined helplessly. Damn you, Valerius, I thought, and damn
your hungry, tortured eyes, and damn your morbidly pretty fingers, wrapped around
your stupid golden necklace! ‘But you said it yourself, just now! There is nothing
beautiful in the world, nothing pure, nothing left worth exploring! It’s all dirt, isn’t it?
That means that I am nothing but dirt as well! Not something worth dying for!’
Valerius smiled simply at me. His hair was falling over his forehead here and
there, tangled with the moonbeams coming from the window. For a moment, I thought
I caught, with my improved at full moon hearing, the faint, organic throb of a heartbeat
in his swollen veins.

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 ‘Dirt is all we are, indeed,’ he whispered, and his voice dripped what people
called passion, as hard as I tried to ignore it. ‘And you are my kind of dirt.’
I let him kiss me, standing still, waiting, in a state of condensed terror, to feel the
taste of ashes on my lips, see him crumble to dust, or choke, or hear his faint, slow
heartbeat no more. Later on, I realized that he would mock me for not figuring out the
power of the equinox pendant earlier. He didn’t seem to be dying of whatever poison I
was to his system, not while he was wearing the little symbol of the ghost of innocence
anyway. In any case, if he was dying, then what a lovely death it had to be…
And so I stopped trying to protect myself from Valerius, because he was, after
all, hardly a man and most of all, a monster – and monsters had the habit of being
sincere and pure in almost any situation in which people weren’t, and I held his bony,
black-nailed, overdramatic hand as he stripped off his masks and half-grins one by
one, and as the night enveloped us lovingly, and the war outside wept and howled,
calling us, who had eloped, I thought to myself, what the hell – in the light of the
slowly waning moon, and in the right angle he actually did look rather handsome…
Besides, you had to give it to him, as the enchanted golden pendant rose and fell
on his snow white chest – there was definitely something admirable about a monster
who was man enough to have thought of protection.

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 Chapter Eighteen
Forever In Darkness

The night was young, bright and beautiful and smelled of snow white flowers. For
the first time in a long time, I felt at peace with myself. For reasons I could not
conceive, some London After Midnight song was ringing in my head.
Valerius was lying beside me, breathing lightly, as though he felt obliged to be
quiet. He was staring thoughtfully at the ceiling. We both had our arms wrapped
around each other, but very, very carefully and humbly, as though we were trying to
pretend we weren’t.
The vampire looked more beautiful now than I had ever seen him. He had an
expression of humble purity on his face, which wasn’t crooked by any of his usual
twisted grins. Without them and his dark, theatrical clothes, he no longer seemed
menacing or intimidating – instead, he looked frail, graceful and vulnerable. But even
with the most sinister clothes on, I’d never be able to see him the same way. Dirt he
spoke very well of, but dirt he couldn’t deliver. Instead, in the scene in which wild,
remorseless lust had a reservation, something sacred had taken place. Out of the dirty
soil, white flowers had grown. That was how things went in life sometimes. You went
out searching for angels and you found beasts. You went out looking for beasts and
you found angels.
I cast a quick, forbidden glance at Valerius’ profile. I didn’t want him to see I
was looking at him and leave. But damn, was I glad to see that he hadn’t fallen asleep.
The truth was that Valerius couldn’t fall asleep even if he wanted to. He had
collected a rather thrilling sensation tonight. It hadn’t felt at all like sin, and he had
sinned a lot, and yet he felt somewhat guilty about this experience more than he did
about any other. His world, of course, hadn’t been changed by a single event. But it
was finding it terribly hard to remain the same.
One of Valerius’ mirages had become real to him. He had seen innocence
tonight, and, more importantly, he’d seen it in himself too, to his own amazement. And
he finally knew what innocence was.
It was a sexually transmitted disease.
His flat chest rose up and down, his silhouette slender and pale in the moonlight.
I enjoyed lying next to him, my hand gently pressed against his knuckles. He didn’t
make me feel skinny.
His skin soaked up all my body heart, though, and sent it into the nothingness
until there was none of it left. Even under the sheets, I felt terribly chilly – that’s why
people should hang out with vampires in the summer, – so I tried standing up and
reaching out to get my clothes. The moment I moved, however, Valerius threw himself
towards me with a terrified gasp, clasped his bony fingers around me and spoke for the
first time in a while:
‘No!’ was what he pronounced frantically. ‘Don’t!’
I was stunned.
‘Don’t what?’
‘Don’t leave! If you do, I’ll die!’

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 I continued being stunned. People never seemed to care if you left once you’d
given them everything they’d wanted – unless you had more to give them, of course.
I wanted to tell him that I was simply going to get dressed, but it seemed a little
too trivial given the occasion. I remained freezing in his desperate grip.
‘What do you mean you’ll die?’ I asked. ‘Is there something wrong? Um, I
messed up, didn’t I?’
‘You mustn’t leave!’ Valerius repeated on the verge of panicking. ‘You have no
right to do this to me!’
‘Do what to you?’ I exclaimed, bewildered.
He was definitely not alright, I was beginning to realize. That was my first
subconscious rule in the choice of men: there had to be something wrong with them.
‘Well, use me for your amusement, of course!’ the vampire complained. ‘What
do you think I mean?’
I was far too shocked to even feel offended.
‘What? Use you for my amusement? I thought you were using me for your
amusement! And since when do you have a problem with this, anyway?’
‘Since today!’ Valerius whined. I’d never seen him like this. I’d never seen him
express actual feelings. ‘This isn’t something you can turn your back on, you know!
This is a… work of art! I put a lot of heart into it, you know!’
‘Well so did I!’
‘But I didn’t mean to!’
‘Neither did I!’
‘So… it was real, then?’ the vampire muttered in disbelief. I looked at him,
equally incredulous. ‘It’s not a… mirage? And you’re not going anywhere? I can’t
believe it…’
‘Tell me about it. I still can’t believe you’re not fast asleep.’
I felt he needed more reassuring on the subject, so I planted a small kiss on his
lips, to show him that I cared and I was grateful for his being there. It had been
planned to be a small one, at least. I had thought I’d never be able to show affection
towards anyone in this way after Charlie. But old habits died hard.
‘You were recently very miserable, weren’t you?’ I turned to him with a soft
smile. ‘You had to be, to find comfort in the arms of someone as disturbed as me.’
‘And you must be disturbed indeed, to give the gift of your innocence to
someone as wicked as me,’ Valerius raised an eyebrow. I could tell he was relieved. If
he was raising eyebrows, he was becoming his old self again.
‘Hey!’ I retorted, with an ironic grin across my face. ‘Who said I gave you my
innocence? I thought there was no innocence, only dirt, right?’
‘Oh, you did give me your innocence. I know you did, because you have infected
me with it to my blood!’ Valerius insisted, and his eyes glistened weirdly. ‘What am I
to do now?’
I shrugged.
‘You don’t get it.’ The vampire looked as if he was about to cry. ‘I have never
felt anything quite like this before! Vera, I was wrong! I was wrong about everything!’
he pleaded.
Suddenly, the world seemed like a really dark place.

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 ‘No, you were right,’ I replied hollowly after a short pause. ‘And trust me –
you’re not the first person to say this to me. Later, it turns out to be lies, and from then
on it’s all about the grip, the speed, and the dirt. Dirt is all we are, Valerius, and that’s
that.’ I sighed bitterly, escaped his loosened clutch and started getting dressed. ‘And
my dirt, my curse is that I infect everyone I touch with my idealistic delusions, and
then I start believing these delusions were their own to start with. It’s all lost in the
end. I’m sorry I infected you, Valerius – but don’t worry, it’ll pass.’
‘You’re wrong!’ he insisted, but the determination in his voice was fading. ‘This
isn’t going to pass just like that. You’ll see, I’m a vampire, I can sense what’s
immortal! Please believe me, Vera, I’m a changed man!’
I sighed again, sent a feeble, joyless smile his way, and walked out of the room
for some bloodshed to clear my head.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said hollowly at the door. ‘I don’t trust men anymore. I only trust
monsters.’

***

Velichka was having a very interesting week. She had gotten acquainted with
angels. She had learned to hold and wave a fiery sword around. She had fought
demons. She had shot a water pistol filled with holy water. She had gotten to know
Jake Jonathan, and that was amazing enough in itself. Recently, she’d shaken hands
with Jeremy Fisherman, the rockstar, although she wasn’t very sure if that was good or
bad. She only hadn’t yet seen Lawrence Fishburne, but there was still time for that.
‘Do you think he’ll make it?’ she asked Possey, with whom she was currently
sitting at the end of a meadow in a candy-like, fairytale world. Beyond the meadow, an
inferno of storm, fire and ice spread.
‘I hope so,’ Possey replied worriedly. ‘Where he’s going he needs to go himself.
It’s up to him to set things right. We’re lucky we made it through this far. I could have
never done it without you,’ he praised the girl beside him. Velichka looked up at the
darkening sky and shuddered.
‘I really hope he makes it too. Personally, I wouldn’t forgive him, though. I
mean, look at him. He’s a freak. And as for his music – I have no words…’
Jeremy Fisherman couldn’t hear any of this, but he was feeling bad enough
anyway. He was advancing with great difficulty through a frozen lake the surface of
which could crack under his boots any minute. He dreaded the idea of drowning, but
not as much as that of facing Cocaine in her ice castle on top of the icy mountain on
the other side of the lake, the center of her modified morbid world, made even crueler
for his own personal torment. The castle of ice got the message across pretty clearly.
But he wouldn’t give up. Not this time. For once, he would stop whining and
wallowing in self-pity and try to do the impossible.
Because he had high hopes.

***

Killing again really took the edge off things, but this time it didn’t seem to be
enough. I wanted to see Valerius stabbed to death with his own silver dagger.

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 There is a generally accepted fact known to man: if it doesn’t hurt, it isn’t love.
Well, it hurt, that was for sure.
But I really blamed myself for everything. Some people weren’t meant to be
good, like Valerius, others – bad, like me. But my attempts to be good ruined every
aspect of my life. I had to get rid of this bad habit. I’d ruined it all with Valerius, too.
Before I knew it, he’d be wearing horrible beige suits, he’d be writing poems about
how beautiful I was and introducing me to his fanged family.
In other words, he wouldn’t be himself. And then, he would be even more
annoying than when he was.
I was biting and tearing, shedding cannibal blood as well as my own, but it
wasn’t helping. I couldn’t get my mind to focus on anything else. I leapt over several
heads, bleeding and screaming, landed on slippery ground – it had started raining, too,
– and sped towards the old abandoned house, hoping to find Valerius there, apologize
for having been so rude, and hit him until he stopped breathing.

***

Time passed faster in Liz’s little imaginary world, grotesquely redecorated by

Cocaine, but for Jeremy the hours felt like years. When he entered the castle of ice, his
clothes were torn, his hair – disheveled, his fingers – bruised and bleeding, his eyes –
sore. He was cold desperate and frightened, more than ever before. Climbing a
mountain and crossing a lake – falling into it every now and then – was the easy part.
Saying “sorry” to a girl ready to burn the world down if she didn’t have him was the
hard thing to do. Had he read this idea in the lyrics of a song, he would have loved the
lethal romanticism in it. Now, he was just plain frightened.
‘Cocaine?’ he shouted hesitantly, as he slowly advanced through the halls and
corridors of the castle, freezing, exhausted and hopeless. He tried to keep his faith
going. ‘Cocaine!’
But if Jeremy knew anything about anything, it was angels and fairytales, and in
the fairytales the princess was always held captive in the highest tower.

***

The storm was bashing ferociously on my back. A bottle broke through a

window, and I saw my hand throw a lit torch in the room. I could see the back of the
sullen vampire all too clearly. For several minutes, I watched the growing, roaring
flames with morbid satisfaction. Then, drenched and grim and heartless, I entered the
abandoned house, lest my prey tried to escape.
The light and warmth the raging flames scattered around me felt pleasant on my
numb with the cold skin. I let the beast take charge, and it sniffed the air with a shade
of twisted hope.
With a joyless grin, I tracked the muffled sound of panicking steps pacing wildly
through the house, trying to find a way out. I took a turn after I’d passed the kitchen,
stepped out through the back door, and threw the second torch out. Then, I retreated to
the fiery prison.

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 The heat was slowly rising to a point of unbearability. I inhaled the smoke
thirstily. It smelled good to me, even to the former good me, but this time it was better
than ever. It was a death trap.
I caught Valerius’ hisses and screams coming from the living room and his hasty
steps rushing out to the bathroom, and they brought me vile ecstasy. He had nowhere
to go. There were so many wooden objects in the house.
The fact that I’d probably not get out of this house alive was immaterial to me. It
was all the same if I did or didn’t. It was all the same to the beast, too. It only wanted
to hunt.
Valerius staggered madly into the hallway, a cornered predator, and leapt
towards the broken window, but a large, furious wolf with fangs ominously bared
jumped right in front of him, bristling and snarling, blocking the path of his escape.
The vampire flew over it across the ring of fire, and the wolf followed. Its jaws
snapped an inch from the victim’s foot, and the man stumbled on the way to the other
window. When he rose, the wild animal was standing fiercely in his way. The vampire
ran again, covering himself with his cloak to protect himself from the smoke, heat and
the blazing roar of the flames – but there was nowhere left to run. He was cornered
against the wall, which was quickly getting covered in soot and cracks.
Valerius screamed when the wolf’s lethal jaws were a breath away from his neck,
which his collar would never manage to protect from the bite.
‘What are you doing?’ he shrieked, covering his face with his long, shaking
fingers. ‘Have you gone mad? Talk to me, please!’
I stood up to my feet before him, naked, scorched and furious.
‘I’ve come to kill you,’ I growled, the beast ringing mightily in my voice.
‘Why?’ the vampire squealed. The lights cast from the murderous flames were
blinding. His shadow loomed above me across the shivering wall. ‘Surely you have a
good reason?’
‘I’m doing it to save you from yourself,’ I whispered. ‘I’ll give you a mercy
killing, because that’s what you deserve. At least, you’ll die with your honor still
intact. Before you’ve had the chance to humiliate yourself beyond recognition.’
The flames were growing in my eyes as well. I felt powerful as Valerius
squirmed.
‘What are you talking about?’ he shouted helplessly. ‘I just wanted to prove a
point… to show you, and to myself, that I can be good, and cherish good!’
‘That’s how it all starts, yes.’ My hiss was filled with cruelty and foreboding.
‘Maybe you’ll get a taste for the sweet and innocent. Maybe, next thing you know,
you’ll offer to share another night with me, and another, and another. Maybe you’ll
think it’ll work out. Maybe you wouldn’t mind being tamed. But I don’t want another
pet, and I don’t want to be one. “Oh, Vera, oh, Vera, you’re so nice, and loving, and
altogether wonderful! It’s so wonderful being with you! Let’s be wonderful together!
Let’s build a brave new world together, a world of beauty, happiness and joy!” Yes!
Why not let go of the dark old memories? Who needs darkness? Who needs their
demons? And hey, it won’t be long before we have a great white wedding, and start
saving up for a great apartment in pastel colors, and I start nagging at you for not
wishing me a happy Valentine’s Day, and you start asking me to call you by your real
name, which is probably George, or Richard!’ My fury was relentless. I’d let the fires

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burn me, and hell engulf me, but I would never again be bruised in this way. ‘And one
day, George, I’ll ask you, “Hey, George, how come you’re nothing like the person I
knew?”, and you’ll say, “I don’t have time for this, hand me the newspaper, please.” Is
that what you want?’ I bellowed in his terrified face. ‘I say you should be dead before
you’ve turned into this!’
‘We’re both going to die here, can’t you see?’ Valerius howled shrilly.
‘What’s wrong with that? Not ready to give up your tedious, pointless existence
yet?’
A shade of the fiery glint in my eyes was reflected into his squinting pupils. An
ancient, inextinguishable malice was resurrected in him.
‘Fine!’ he snarled at me, his nostrils flaring, his eyes reflecting the inferno all
around us. ‘You think that’s how I’m gonna be? Kill me, then! You think I’m afraid?’
He tore the heating golden necklace off his neck and threw it demonstratively to the
wooden floor ablaze. ‘Do it! What are you waiting for?’
I waited for nothing. The beast leapt forth, blinding my judgment. I leaned
against the vampire and planted a ferocious kiss goodbye on his lips, putting all of my
hurt, rage and venom into it.
When I opened my eyes again, I was infuriated rather than relieved, and so was
Valerius. Nothing had happened.
‘You’re still alive!’ I shouted accusatively. ‘Dammit, why are you still alive?’
‘You stupid girl!’ Valerius scolded me in a fit of rage. ‘Kill me like you mean it!’
Impatiently, desperate, enraged and brimming with enough adrenaline to feel
eager to embrace death, he sank his lips viciously into mine, as if he was trying to suck
the death from them and swallow it whole. He was ready for it, he craved it more than
he craved anything, much more than he craved me, no doubt – but destiny can be a
great deceiver, and, against all odds and rules, it decided to let him live.
He was so mad to still be breathing that he could do nothing but take it out on
me. Soon, there was nothing left to him but the kiss, the fury and the hope for death,
salvation or damnation – it didn’t matter which. He stepped closer to me and placed
his hands on both sides of my face as the obscenely beautiful scene of something of a
twisted romance enveloped in the deadly embrace of the flames unveiled before the
eyes of the non-existent spectator. The night, in any case, was watching. It was
probably proud of us.

***

We were running like we were being chased through the streets that had turned
into rivers as the storm unfolded. It was a pleasant change from the hellish fires we’d
escaped by little but chance, yet it lost its charm really quickly. When the war was
over, if I survived it, I’d be in bed with pneumonia.
We hid into the town’s mall, where, if there had been anyone to go shopping for
ages, at least it was safe and dry. I stared at the mayhem in the streets through the glass
of a formal wear store, unnoticed through the tons of fabric lavished with tasteless
decorations.
‘It’s not bad here,’ I admitted, ‘but I think we should get back to the battle.’

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 ‘We’re not staying,’ Valerius grunted and stared severely into my eyes. ‘You
have three seconds to answer the following question: which of these dresses do you
like best?’
I gaped, astonished and disgusted, at the row of prom and wedding dresses lined
up by the window glass. I was sick of white.
‘That one,’ I pointed uncertainly at a corset red dress with a wide skirt, as it was
the only piece of apparel around that didn’t look like a cream cake with a mannequin
stuck in it.
‘Fine, that’ll do,’ the vampire nodded in grim approval. ‘Put it on, we have to
hurry. I’ll cover the expenses later.’

***

It was dark. There were candles burning all around us. The intoxicating, soothing
scent of incense reigned in the air. Tormented faces adorned with halos cast
disapproving glances at us from the walls and the dome looming above us.
After ten minutes of wondering what Valerius had in mind and where he was
taking me, I painfully realized that we had run straight into the town church.
‘You wouldn’t dare,’ I gasped, unable to react in any way appropriate for the
occasion.
Valerius was stripping off his cloak to reveal a black velvet vest and a scarlet
shirt beneath it. High collar, of course.
‘Don’t be frightened,’ he reassured me, but his voice sounded more ominous than
reassuring. ‘I’m not planning on spending an eternity asking you to pass me the
newspaper. In a few days’ time, you’ll never have to see me again. Relax, this is just a
vampire wedding. Nothing formal.’
‘Um… yes, I know,’ I mumbled, still unable to figure out what was keeping me
in here. It had to be the rain. ‘I’ve… had a vampire wedding before.’
‘With another vampire?’ Valerius raised an eyebrow in disbelief.
‘Um, no… it was… um… symbolic.’
Then you don’t know that at a vampire wedding, the bride usually has no say in
the ceremony. The groom takes what’s rightfully his, no questions asked. And, of
course, once you’ve had a genuine vampire wedding, you can’t marry another
vampire, ever.’
‘I don’t think I’ll be dying to,’ I replied. ‘So, I guess that’ll make me your, what,
concubine?’
‘Oh, no.’ Valerius shook his head as he dragged me to the altar. He looked like
he was about to do something sacrilegious. ‘You really get no obligations from then
on, expect you mustn’t marry another vampire ‘till the one who married you is good
and dead. Permanently. But, your groom is bound to you for all times. And I need to
be bound to you,’ he said, turning to me solemnly.
‘Why?’ I asked. I was innocently curious, because I didn’t have the slightest
intention of letting this go through the way he was planning. The candles were casting
long, crooked shadows on the walls of the church, suffocating every sense of danger in
a calming scent of wax.
Valerius smiled.

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 ‘Let’s just say I have this… passion of mine.’
He coughed formally as I watched him, partly in disbelief, and partly with
ridicule, and announced before the empty church:
‘With God and the Devil as my witnesses, I spit on their will and blessing, and
claim what’s rightfully mine, as I kneel before the night and night alone.’
He bowed to me gracefully, cast a sharp little grin at me, and placed a small
silver thing in my cold hand. I raised an eyebrow in amazement. The next words that
came from the vampire’s mouth weren’t as solemn as the previous ones; instead, they
were muttered casually in a half-voice:
‘Take it. Melt it, throw it away, feed it to your dog, I don’t care. Now, for the
important part.’
From the pocket of his vest, he miraculously pulled a small golden chain with a
frighteningly familiar pendant handing down from it. How on earth had he had the
time to dig it out of the ruins in the fire? Maybe he was a magician after all, I
conceded. He certainly acted and dressed like one.
Valerius tied the medallion around the necks of both of us and pulled the knot
until the little golden string pressed against my throat painfully, like a blade. Valerius
fixed his unyielding stare on me again, and I thought he’d start summoning bats and
demons, but instead he just said:
‘Um… when I started hanging out with Leonard and the rest… There was
something he was mocking me about. Something about a fictional girlfriend of mine
I’d bound myself to with a silly vow… can you remember what that sounded like? It’s
of vital importance.’
I shrugged, confused and bewildered.
‘How should I remember? I don’t know… Something like “Forever In Death”, I
think… or maybe “Forever In Darkness”…’
‘Ah, that was it,’ Valerius grinned, beaming with satisfaction. ‘Forever in
darkness. It’s a little cliché, but I like the sound of it. Is that a vow good enough for
you?’
So far, I’d joined in merely out of sheer curiosity. But I was beginning to feel this
theatre play had gone on for a bit too long. I didn’t see a point in seeing the end of the
show.
‘It fits the idea of a vampire wedding,’ I shared my honest opinion, ‘but I must
say I’m not dying to be married again, thank you very much.’
Valerius smiled the eeriest smile in the world at me. The shadows the candles
cast seemed to dance and intertwine around me, probably preparing to tie me in their
lethal grip.
‘Oh, you will be,’ the vampire whispered as the haunting stripes of shadow and
light flickered playfully across his sharp face. ‘You can be sure about that.’
I laughed, although I wasn’t entirely sure if that was a vampire joke to laugh at.
Involuntarily, I trembled, and I felt the shadows rejoice at it. In their obscure corners,
they looked like hungry, sinister demons.
‘Wait a minute,’ I began, trying to put a pathetic drop of irony into my words, but
to no avail, ‘you’re not actually serious about this ridiculous ceremony, are you?’

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 ‘You have no idea how serious I am, darling,’ I heard a chilling, merciless voice
respond. The saints on the walls were frowning at Valerius. Some of them were
laughing at me. ‘You will be my bride tonight. And I… I am your vampire.’
And before I could gasp, or moan, or scream, before I could think of running or
defending myself, or even give myself a stupidity award, Valerius sank his sharp fangs
into the wine glass scar on the right side of my neck, and at that very moment I wanted
to tell every girl in the world that, no, it didn’t feel enchanting, intoxicating, or
pleasant in any way; it was every bit as painful as hell itself, or at least as the sensation
of two sharp blades being stabbed into your neck, and then the world became dim,
bright and spinning, and I felt weak and sick and dizzy, and the last thing I heard
before I passed out for the hundredth time this holiday, was Valerius’ steely,
triumphant voice, ringing in the house of worship recently dishonored…
‘Rest now, dear, for you have a war to fight tomorrow… ghosts to follow
blindly… Poor tired thing… so gullible… But I will have you anyway.’ When
everything went dark, I could still hear a wicked, somewhat twistedly loving grin
flickering madly in his sinister voice: ‘Don’t hate me now, dear. We are what we are.
Forever in darkness. Amen.’

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 Chapter Nineteen
The Fall of Pain

Jeremy Fisherman was slowly freezing as he stood terrified in the middle of the
ice castle, and was shaking wildly. But it wasn’t the cold, and it wasn’t the fear that
made him do it. He had lost the little left of the high hopes he had, and he was sobbing
miserably in the relentless stinging whiteness.
He had shouted out, moaned, and whimpered all of the deep, sincere, heartbroken
apologies that came to mind. There was no answer; nobody was listening to him, and
Jeremy knew that this was the greatest punishment that he could receive, his own
loneliness, Cocaine’s rejection for the years he had rejected her, and her unwillingness
to even wreak her vengeance upon him and break his bones into little pieces. He didn’t
even deserve that. Cocaine had turned her back on his belated remorse, facing the
world from her high ice tower and watching it crumble.
Things could have been so different if he’d only seen what he’d once had.
Throughout all of his youth, he’d been waiting for an angel just for him to come along.
It had been right before his eyes all along. And now it was much too late for any
apologies to work.
Jeremy cried, awaiting his slow death, thinking of all the times he’d not seen
Magnolia Wilder. All the times he’d not smiled at her, not wiped her tears, even
though she was willing to wipe his any day. He had meant everything to her… and
he’d wasted his heart on everything but her. He deserved his fate, and so did the world.
He only felt sorry for her; he wished he was able to erase all the pain he had caused
her. He wished he’d been better to her… he wished he’d kissed her, when they were
back in high school together…
And then, through the ice-cold air, and the suffocating misery, and the fog of
bitter memories, Jeremy remembered, dimly, but nevertheless with impeccable
certainty, a girl in a white environmentalist shirt at one of his first gigs, and the warm
feel of a pair of firm, trembling lips on his… back when he was still young… back
when he’d stop at nothing… back when he still believed in something, even if it
wasn’t angels… back when he’d had high hopes…
Jeremy knew nothing about love. He always ruined it. All he was was, at the end,
a musician, and the only thing he knew a thing about was songs.
He could never forget the speech before the kiss, and the song that had followed
it. It was called “Whether You Like It Or Not”, one of his old ones, and was a mad,
passionate love song, the one with the most screamed “I love you”-s in his entire
discography. It didn’t fit his situation at all, but he remembered every word of it, and
every word that had preceded it at that concert, and he recited them all, word for word,
his broken, melancholic voice echoing through the castle of ice. Hot tears ran down his
face.
‘To my dream girl…’ he uttered gently, and wept on, shrilly, heartbreakingly,
with the honesty of the songs of his twenties: ‘I love you! I love you! I love you!
Whether you like it or not! I’m yours! I’m yours! I’m yours! Whether I like it or not!’

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 The walls shook, the ceiling reflected the screams, shards of ice dropped and
shattered as the man desperately sang on and on, reviving the memory of his very first
love song. And as the song got more passionate, more aggressive and lively, it became
a song about tearing, deranged, cannibalistic love rather than the next mopey ballad,
and Jeremy’s voice became louder and more confident, and suddenly he felt like he
was twenty again, and if he’d look at his reflections in the fear-striking ice structure,
he’d see he was twenty again for real, and his hair was long and ginger, and a
pentagram hung from his neck…
And he couldn’t remember being happier and more himself, or think of a better
song to die with, as he did what he did best for the last time in his miserable lifetime –
sang, screamed, and set hearts on fire…
Young, skinny, ginger-haired Jay was lying, pale and still, on the transparent
floor of the ice castle, when a tall figure in white descended slowly down the stairs to
the highest tower. Normally, he was supposed to climb to the top of it. But some
fairytales could use an alternative ending.
‘I thought I wouldn’t see you like this again,’ said the soft voice of Magnolia
Wilder, a beautiful, scarred winged woman. Jay looked wearily up through his frosted
ginger eyelashes.
‘But I’ve always been like this,’ he uttered gently. ‘Always here, lying on the
floor like a stubborn kid, waiting for you to pick me up…’
Magnolia smiled.
‘And all you could do was write depressing songs about it?’ she asked meekly.
‘Dozens,’ Jay assured her. The angel took him by the hand. ‘Come on,’ she urged
him gently. ‘Let’s go home, black ram. Let’s get you back to your horrible room.’

***

When the curse was lifted, the entire world changed. It was expected to, of
course, but it amazed nevertheless. The piles of corpses, bones and broken
transportation in the streets were swept away. The air trembled with magic as the
blood drained off the sidewalks and the poisonous blackness retreated from the angry
sky. Thousands of vampires, drenched in blood, panting, weapons clutched in their
weary grips, looked up as the night slowly cleared up from the horror of war and
became more stunning, more magnificent than ever. After nine days of merciless
control over souls and, in some cases, bodies, the moon was swallowed in a sea of
velvet darkness. The relentless warriors marveled at the glorious sight of victory for a
minute or two… and scattered, panicking, yelling and screaming, before the rays of the
dreaded sun caught up with them.
They couldn’t stay to see the sunrise, and neither could they appreciate its
beauty, for obvious reasons.
But it made the world a brighter place.

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 Chapter Twenty
The Tortured Soul of Mr Cleanwood

I didn’t see the sun, but I felt it. Everything it front of me was bright orange.
Then, I opened my eyes. I felt the outcome of the war in a fit of relief that made my
heart leap and rejoice. The day had come, after many weeks of night.
I walked out into the church yard, squinting at the bright, blinding sunlight. After
all this time, I wasn’t used to staring right at it. My eyes had developed dark brown
rings around them – like those of Valerius, but I couldn’t think of him right now – due
to all that lurking in the dark. It didn’t matter. The day would heal them.
I ran to my street only to find nobody around. I quickly remembered what
happened to vampires in the sunlight. They must have scattered away the moment the
curse had been lifted.
And when I thought of vampires, I thought of Valerius, at last. He, of course, was
nowhere to be seen. The knuckles on my hands made threatening noises. I didn’t have
the slightest idea what he’d done to me while I’d been out, but I was certain I was
going to press charges.
I rushed home, exhausted and furious. Frankie wasn’t there to be found, either. I
felt drained – wasn’t that ironic. I didn’t care about the bite marks – one scar over
another, it was no big deal. It was the rest that bothered me much more.
I took the scarlet dress off with disgust and changed into my casual clothes left
scattered along with my books on the bed. I’d get something to eat, brush my teeth,
gather my strength, and go to find Valerius and have a very serious talk with him. That
was the first thing I’d do, doubtlessly.
And, naturally, the moment I decided that, I fell over my bed ad fell asleep. The
bright new dawn was a great thing to witness, but the body had its needs. Besides, if
the world was lucky, it was very likely that the next morning there would be another.

***

Throughout the next few weeks, many changes took place. My friends went back
to their regular lives, without the faintest memory of the recent horrifying events. I
knew all of them would kill to preserve those memories, but I had no say in it. There
were rules.
And then again, there always were the dreams, the distant echoes of their
persistent subconsciences. You could never be too careful with dreams.
Possey got promoted again, for helping avert yet another Apocalypse. Magnolia
was accepted back into heaven with sympathy and forgiveness, because sometimes
even Heaven chooses to do the good thing. She had no regrets. Her mission had finally
been accomplished. And, she’d had the chance to attend one of Jay’s gigs for free, as a
special guest on stage. It didn’t get much better than that, I couldn’t deny as a fan.
Jeremy restored his middle-aged form and married his girlfriend Paula shortly
after. It was the only way to go, he knew. But, he wrote a song prior to his wedding,
the chorus of which sounded like this:

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 “I just can’t live without Cocaine
Cocaine erases all my pain
Without Cocaine, I go insane
I need you in my life, Cocaine…”

Nobody would suspect anything, he knew. They’d all think it had something to
do with drugs. Adam would make it a hit.
As for me, when I was rested enough, I took a trip back to the vampire world to
pick up my stuff and say goodbye, because all dark things, as pleasant as they may be,
had to come to an end sooner or later. That was the way the world worked. My world,
at least.
It was boring, unfair, discriminating. It was the dullest world one could imagine.
But if it hadn’t been the one I was born in, I’d never see the charm of any other.
Besides, it had its good sides, too. After all, some of its vampire movies were quite
entertaining.

***

‘What can I tell you, fellas, all is well that ends well,’ Leonard announced on yet
another gloomy morning in his mansion, dressed in a clean turquoise shirt, as stainless
as his pleasant, courteous smile, which didn’t have a trace of the berserker spirit it had
carried through the past few days. ‘I am so sorry to see you go, Wera,’ he added with
warm, humane regret, ‘and you know your presence will be missed very much.’
‘I’m gonna miss you too,’ Rheetah’s deep voice uttered as she approached me,
and she held me so tight she nearly broke all of my ribs. I patted her affectionately on
the back, and although I knew I’d miss her too, I was significantly relieved when she
let me go. ‘Remember, you’ll always have a friend here, whenever you choose to visit
again.’
‘I certainly will,’ I nodded gratefully. ‘I wish you all the best in life. I’m sorry
about your heart,’ I added compassionately. ‘I wish it didn’t have to remain alone.’
‘Hey, no worries,’ she grinned cheerfully at me. ‘What’s a wolf’s heart for?’
I laughed lightly and gave her an encouraging glance. Then, I turned to Leonard.
‘Leonard, you lunatic,’ I spread my arms in his direction. ‘You’re not afraid to
give a no-turner a hug, are you? You will always be the baddest, most prominent
vampire around, and the most delightful host ever.’ I’d begun to use the word
“delightful” all too much. It stuck with you when you were around vampires.
‘You’ll get the chance to confirm that hopeful statement when you visit us for
Christmas,’ he replied. ‘It’s my birthday, remember? You and Yana must attend. We’ll
watch vampire flicks! It’ll be so much fun!’
‘I’m sure it will,’ I beamed. Liz was waving her little hand at me with a sweet
smile on her beautiful face.
Suddenly, I felt terrible about leaving. I’d miss all of them all too much.
Leonard seemed to have read my mind; or, maybe he did.
‘You don’t have to leave,’ he offered generously. ‘You’ve been here for such a
little while!’

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 ‘According to vampire standards, yes,’ I grinned in response. ‘I really ought to
go, Leonard. I can’t spend my life here and forsake my, um, official life. I’ll be back
for Christmas, though, you can count on that,’ I promised.
Huck stepped forth, emerging from the darkness of the hallway.
‘Wera,’ he began with a polite, serious tone. ‘May I speak to you in private?’
We retreated to my old temporary bedroom. As usual, I was amazed at how often
people wanted to speak to me in private. I’d never be a hit as an orator.
‘There’s a couple of things I need to tell you,’ Huck continued when he’d looked
around to ensure that no one was eavesdropping, ‘and I am afraid that most of them
won’t be to your liking.’
I took a deep breath. Maybe Leonard had been right after all. For a moment, I
was convinced I knew what I was about to hear. But what I heard took me entirely by
surprise.
‘We lost Frankie,’ Huck sighed a heavy, remorseful sigh. ‘I thought I had to be
the one to tell you. I saw it happen… he took one of the biggest explosions to protect
us. I am so sorry, Wera; he just vanished. There was nothing anybody could have
done… he had his mind set on this from the start,’ the vampire explained bitterly. ‘He
must have seen this as an… opportunity…’
I shook my head in obstinate denial.
‘No,’ I disagreed firmly. ‘Frankie doesn’t die that easily. He’s died many times,
you know, and once it was because I killed him. He’ll live. He’ll always live. Not just
in his music and not just in me. He is somewhere safe, I assure you… resting... waiting
for the world to call him out… so he could defy society again…’
‘I really, deeply hope you are right.’ Now, Huck seemed a little relieved, but still
tense enough to make me nervous too. ‘Still, he will be missed… he risked his life for
us…’
‘And you risked your lives for me,’ I said meekly to Huck and stared with
reverence and gratitude into his melancholic blue eyes. ‘I do not know how to thank
you. All of you,’ I added.
Huck smiled a sad little smile.
‘I’m not as noble as you think I am, Wera,’ he confessed. His voice was tender,
but dry, and his eyes were hollow as he continued: ‘I am a monster, like everyone
here. Sometimes I feel… sometimes I feel that Leonard is better than me for not trying
to hide it.’
I placed my hand on the self-detesting vampire’s shoulder.
‘Huck,’ I said earnestly, ‘you are undoubtedly the sweetest, kindest vampire I’ve
ever met, and one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met, too. You’re a good person, and
you always will be. As for what happened to… to your wife Sarah… and any other
dark event in your history… it’s just the beast. We all have it. Even as humans.
Whatever happened… it’s best left in the past. What matters is that you keep trying to
be good.’
‘It happened one night, when the thirst was torturing me,’ Huck’s voice grated
coarsely in the room, and I shuddered as I knew I was about to hear about Sarah. ‘I’d
recently been turned, and was doing my best to restrain myself from… attacking
people. It had been… two months. Can you believe it? Two months, I lasted without
ever tasting blood. But I was not the same. I was pining away, sullen, detached. Sarah

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kept telling me I had changed. She felt I had abandoned her. She was such a sweet
woman... she wanted a child so bad…’ His voice broke off, he swallowed hard, but yet
pushed himself to return to his tragic tale. ‘I could never tell her she could never have
a child with a vampire… we can’t, unless some sort of miracle occurs, like with
Leonard. But love could not pull me out of the state of mind I’d fallen into. One night,
I was driven to the edge… I couldn’t take being blamed for being different, or asked if
I was unfaithful, and I…’ I expected him to burst out in tears there, but he just
remained cold and blank. His expression indicated that he’d already cried all the tears
he had over this memory. ‘I lost my faith in good that night,’ he confessed. ‘I ran
away, and committed many crimes. When I met Leonard… I was horrified to see
someone who didn’t see anything wrong with it. He urged me to become the very
worst I could be, and I was, for a while… for too long. But then I couldn’t live with
myself anymore. I started trying to abide by some kind of morality, just to make life
with myself more bearable. And although Leonard’s influence was destructive to the
remains my innocence… I guess I was simply stubborn…’
‘I’d say you were strong,’ I praised him, touched. ‘Remaining a good person
under Leonard’s influence… that’s definitely an achievement of willpower.’
‘True, but I never believed in the point of being good, not since I… lost Sarah…
Until I met you, a girl who thought she wanted to be evil but really couldn’t let go of
good once and for all,’ Huck replied. The sudden warmth in his voice frightened me. I
was beginning to feel I was about to be forced to do yet another monstrous thing. ‘You
believed in good… and believed in the good in me,’ the vampire added. ‘I just wanted
to… thank you… for restoring my faith. I could never tell you just how much this
means.’
‘I know how much it means,’ I nodded. ‘I know the way this feels. In the end, no
matter what we do, you and I can’t live without the idea of good. We must be fools…
but I feel I should thank you for being a fool like me. It gives me faith too.’
‘There’s something more,’ Huck raised his head, pointing a sensitive, guilty blue
stare at me. Again, I shuddered, and my heart contracted painfully when he spoke out
his confession, directly, abruptly, bravely, just like that: ‘I love you, Wera. At least I
am very sure I do. It may come as a shock to you… and I can only say, as an
explanation, that I’ve seen into your soul, I’ve seen the qualities you tried in vain to
destroy, and I know that what I’ve found is truly unique. In my defense, I shall say that
there is nothing I expect of you; the obstacles to such an infatuation are beyond clear
to me. I’m sorry to put you in such an uncomfortable situation. I merely wanted to be
honest with you, and to let you know you will always be loved… by someone who
doesn’t wish you harm,’ he finished quietly, and raised his hand: ‘Please, do not
apologize. I can be realistic too, sometimes, in between my fits of hopeless idealism.
Even if you did feel something for me – which I sincerely doubt – it would never be
possible...
‘No,’ I lied hollowly. I felt like a criminal. I could not bear looking into these
earnest, tortured blue eyes. Huckleberry Cleanwood was so much worthier of being
loved than abominations like Valerius. Again, I’d made the wrong choice. Huck
deserved, more than anyone, a lovely bride for all eternity. But it could never be me. I
was not worthy of his angelic soul. I belonged with the beasts – with the likes of
Valerius. But Huck would never believe me. I kept all of this to myself. I couldn’t bear

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hurting him this way. He needed to believe that I was as good as he wanted me to be.
Sometimes, this was all that kept the good ones going. I knew this well.
‘Very well,’ Huck stood up modestly, looking more tired and broken than ever,
‘I’ll leave you to your packing, then. I don’t want to waste your time. I’m glad you
aren’t… upset with me. I shall miss you, Wera.’
He turned his back on me, stifled a sensitive sigh, and walked towards the door
of the bedroom.
‘I do feel something for you, Huck,’ I uttered, a moment later, to my own
surprise. ‘And it is love indeed. I’m sorry it is not the kind of love you’re hoping
for…’
Huck smiled meekly at the door.
‘It’s okay,’ he assured me. ‘It makes it easier.’
‘But I do care for you immensely, Huck,’ I repeated, tears swelling in my eyes,
produced by the little piece of a human being that I still had left in my soul. I stood up
too, crossed the room and embraced him desperately. ‘To me… you are a symbol of
the best in me. You are one of my best friends. You are a light, a hope for the world.
And I will never stop believing in you.’
‘Nor I in you,’ he promised meekly. I felt safe in his arms, like a child. He was
truly an angel to me. ‘Remember, you are nowhere near as bad as you think you are,
Wera.’
With these words, he let me go and left the room, and left me to my thoughts. I
felt guilty, I felt stained, I felt remorseful, and all of it made me endlessly happy. I
wasn’t yet quite a monster.
I ventured to smile to myself through my tears. The world made sense again. The
night was pointless without a little bit of day.
And just when I thought I had it, the gift of peace, at last, I heard a loud,
ostentatious yawn coming from the direction of the window.
Valerius emerged, armed with his nastiest grin, from the black velvet curtain he
was frighteningly blending with. I gasped, and tried to grab hold of a sharp object.
‘I’ve heard and seen enough moaning and moping about good and evil to last me
an eternity,’ he complained, approaching me dangerously and still grinning at me. ‘I
didn’t come to join in on the whining over your departure, don’t worry. I’m just bored.
Wanna go out for a walk?’

***

‘Do not fret about this,’ Possey was speaking soothingly to Magnolia. The
weather in heaven was pleasant again. White clothes flew cheerfully past them. ‘What
matters is that he loves you, you’ve given him his life’s true purpose back. Besides,
maybe, when he joins us, you’ll be together again…’
‘If he joins us,’ Magnolia corrected him cleverly. ‘Don’t be so sure of his virtue.
He can always mess up.’
‘But he’s improved,’ the other angel pointed out, always the optimist. ‘He’s
written a song about you, did you hear it? It’s got a very catchy tune...’
‘It’s crap,’ a grating voice growled pleasantly behind them. Magnolia and Possey
turned and gasped.

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 An angel, tall, thin and dressed in a tight white robe designed to look like an
outfit for a glam rock concert, had approached them through the clouds. He had long
flowing black hair and the smile of a sweet young man gone bad. Possey swallowed
his tongue, and Magnolia bit hers.
‘Frankie!’ Possey exclaimed, his turquoise eyes blinking in stunned disbelief. ‘I
thought you were dead!’
‘I am dead,’ Frankie grinned happily. ‘What else would I be doing here? Self-
sacrifice does amazing things, you know…’
‘Demon!’ Magnolia snarled. ‘You’re lucky you’re dead, because I would have
killed you if you weren’t! Why, you…’
‘Relax, guys, relax,’ Frankie raised his scrawny hands in a gesture of peace.
‘What’s done is done; we’re in heaven now. And I’m thinking this place could use
someone like me, don’t you think?’ He rested his arms on the shoulders of both angels,
finally feeling like he’d found a way to undermine the system of the universe from
within, and beamed in the manner of the greatest rebel who ever lived: ‘We’re going to
have a rockin’ time together…’

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 Chapter Twenty-One
Equinox

The night was cold and damp, but peaceful. It was probably around noon,
actually, but it still felt like night to me. It was the night that really called me out, not
Valerius.
Sneaking out of a window was not my specialty. I felt significantly relieved to
feel the soft, moist grass brush against my ankles after the risky landing. Then, I
almost felt peace.
Almost. Valerius was striding through the meadow swiftly, with determination in
his step, walking as though he owned the ground beneath his feet. I had to put an effort
in walking to keep up with him.
‘Are we going somewhere?’ I assumed. The alert, focused expression on the
vampire’s face didn’t change.
‘You’ll see.’
‘Um… look, about what happened when we last met,’ I began uncertainly,
frowning and squinting as the wind scraped against our pale faces, ‘I’d like you to
undo it. No matter what your goal was… I take marriage very seriously, and I don’t
think this is the right time, place and person… given the situation.’ I pulled the
elaborately engraved silver ring he’d given me out of the pocket of my jeans and
examined it grimly. ‘Here, take it. I really think you should save it for someone else.’ I
read the inscription on it carefully, and something in me stirred. “The Dark Ages
Slower Than The Light,” I read it out loud in the steely darkness. ‘It’s… an optimistic
message in its own way. But I really can’t keep it. Moreover, I don’t want to.’
Valerius pushed my hand holding the ring away. He was obviously busy
pursuing something a lot more important.
‘I don’t need it,’ he grunted impatiently. ‘Look, do what you want with it. If you
see it as a symbol of commitment, don’t worry about it, you are your own person. It’s
connected to vampire rules. You’re not a vampire. There, you’re free.’
I smiled slightly to myself beneath the starry sky. He did have a way with solving
problems.
‘Do you think they’ve sniffed anything?’ I asked. ‘About us?’
‘Wouldn’t think so. I left no scent on you, remember?’
‘Where are you taking me, anyway?’
With the clear, chilly wind enveloping me, and the sky alight with stars bluer
than a sea, I completely forgot to be mad at him. I followed blindly, hurriedly, after the
person who now felt merely like a friend I couldn’t figure out.
We stopped by a patch of grass in no way different from any other. Valerius sat
down and invited me to situate myself next to him.
‘What do we do now?’
‘We wait,’ he explained curtly. Even his imposed mysteriousness failed to annoy
me. ‘You’ll see. Meanwhile, tell me,’ he turned to me matter-of-factly, ‘just for the
record, what did you learn from your stay here? Did you get to find yourself again?
And if so, did you like what you found?’

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 For the first time, it seemed there was no hidden goal behind his questions apart
from interest. I felt relaxed.
‘I found out that you were right,’ I replied with a peaceful smile. ‘I did indeed
pronounce my name wrong. “Wera” is derived from “human”, but I discovered I’ll
always be more than just that. I suppose Vera – meaning “truth” – describes me better.
And I guess the bare truth about me is that I’m just me,’ I concluded, and at last I felt
no regrets about it. ‘Beast or person, good or evil, strong or weak, saint or sinner, I am
who I am, and I was so busy categorizing myself as one thing or the other that it
managed to escape me that I am who I am, and that’s what I should be.’ I smiled.
‘That’s too obvious to sound like philosophy, isn’t it?’
‘Certainly,’ Valerius nodded with a grim smile on his face, but I could hear a
purring note of approval in his voice. ‘Still, congratulations are in order, Vera. You’ve
discovered something certain about yourself with the humble assistance of my
selective Transylvanian accent. Good for you. And tell me, can anything be better
now? It’s such a beautiful night.’
‘Carpe Noctem,’ I uttered dreamily. He uttered the same back, smiling
ambiguously to himself. This time, I didn’t try to analyze it. I didn’t know what was
on his mind, and I didn’t care; I knew what was in his heart. It was the night, with its
bloody hunts, distant howls, moonlit skies and fragrant sleeping white flowers. All of
it added to its beauty. It was more than just a time of the day, or a way of life. It was a
state of mind, soul and heart, and it filled us whole. We were mesmerized by it,
enslaved by it, and freed by it. There was no escaping the beauty of the night – and in
this world, it was perpetual.
Unconsciously, as I sat in peace a few inches away from Valerius, our faces
turned towards the moonless, yet bright ink-blue sky, I leaned my head towards his.
Unconsciously, he did the same. We sat there, for hours, it seemed, silent, still,
hypnotized, breathing, waiting, our heads gently pressed together, as though they were
joint, daring not look away from the magnificent, enchanting sky. It was a perfect
moment of pure bliss.
‘What did you learn?’ I whispered quietly to the vampire, afraid to talk any
louder lest my voice interfered with a sacred scene of the story of the universe. I didn’t
need the answer, though. I already knew all there was to know about him. At that
moment, he, like the night, was a part of me.
‘Me?’ he repeated tenderly, his long eyelashes blinking in awe against the
shimmer of the stars. ‘From knowing you… or from the night?’
‘Both, I guess,’ my lips spoke soundlessly.
It all reminded me of that magical moment we’d shared by that window, where
I’d felt as though we were already dead. Nothing left to fear, nothing left to worry
about, nothing left to question – just peace, understanding, and night. People severely
underestimated the night.
Valerius placed his hand on my knee. He left it lying there, motionless. Now, it
was a part of me, too.
‘I learned,’ he began slowly, ‘that there is, after all, something in this world that I
do believe in.’
‘Really? And what is that?’

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 He smiled. It wasn’t a bad smile or a good smile, that of a human or a beast. It
was just his.
‘Watch,’ he told me simply.
And then I saw it, as soon as I had felt it. As soon as I had felt pure, simple bliss
and sincere, silent understanding in one. As soon as we felt we were part of the night,
and embraced the night within us; as soon as our nights were equal and we both knew
the night of the other so well. Because, after all, it was the same.
As soon as that happened, out of the moonless sky, two shining white crescents,
identical to each other and differing only in that that they were pointed in opposite
directions, facing each other, swam out from underneath the night’s blue veil and
towards each other, and although it was astronomically impossible, they met and
crossed in the sky, tangled lovingly in each other, each one reflecting the other one’s
beauty. Then, they merged completely, drowning each other’s shines in darkness, and
the lunar eclipse took place in a world where there was no day – and we watched it
while it lasted, Valerius and I, blind to everything else life had to offer. We, the
creators of the equinox this evening, had been enslaved by it as we leaned still against
each other, skulls pressed together in a common thought, hearts beating with a
common emotion – one heart still, the other one frozen. Two hearts equally filled with
the night.
And beside the two fragile skulls joined forever in darkness, on the damp
meadow throbbing with magic, flowers grew.
Some would say they were gentle white flowers. Others would swear they were
scarlet roses. A person or two would claim the roses were blue, although anyone knew
that was a very inappropriate color for a rose. But it didn’t matter if they were roses, or
if they were thorns. They were what they were, and they thrived here, against all odds,
in the permanent night. Just like us.
‘And that, my dear,’ Valerius uttered lovingly at the sky, ‘is an equinox. A
downright miracle. A goddamn dark nirvana.’
He smiled again, and his heart, for the first time in his entire existence, skipped a
beat.
‘And it is all ours.’

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 Chapter Twenty-Two
Wild Things

Out of courtesy and maybe a little bit of nostalgia, my former host had
accompanied me back to my world, and to my home. It got late as we both put off the
moment of the heartfelt farewell. Alas, in my world, time was never sufficient.
The time had come to say goodbye. Leslie and I were sitting and chatting in the
room that had so many memories soaked in its walls, his own portrait staring at him in
kinky amazement, at that of Frankie casting judgmental glances at him. It was a
pleasant night indeed.
‘I mean, as you know, I’m not into make-up; it’s only lipstick that truly
fascinates me,’ I was explaining vigorously. ‘Wouldn’t use it for seduction, of course;
I just like the touch of cruelty it adds to one’s lips when it’s dark enough. Gives off the
message that the owner of those lips would, after all, survive even if said lips didn’t
get kissed anytime soon.’
Leslie smiled a boyish smile. Not that I often called Leonard Leslie, of course;
only Yana had the privilege to call him that on a regular basis, and Blondielocks, the
nickname I’d given him for obvious reasons back in the days when I couldn’t stand
him just didn’t seem to fit after all we’d recently been through together. Tonight, he
just looked really Leslie-ish. It was as though the smile on his cold lips was causing
the entire room to acquire a warmer glow.
I enjoyed sitting by him, and the ones like him. I derived some sort of special
optimism from being in the company of a person who looked young and full of faith
and joy, not only on the outside, despite the fact that he carried the burden of centuries,
of the world and its history, and a thousand bloody crimes on his shoulders. There was
something reassuring about it, reminding me that there was still something out there
that time did not affect. I remembered I used to ardently believe in many things I
thought to be eternal – love, hope, and all that jazz. I needed this faith still. However,
time and experience had shown me otherwise, and the more I lived and loved and lost,
the more I realized just how fleeting all that seemed eternal was.
But right now I felt happy nevertheless, because the more time I spent sitting by
Leslie, the more convinced I became that the only truly immortal thing in the world
were vampires.
“I mean, look at him,” I thought to myself. “He’s different, and yet the same.
He’s got as much fire in him as he always has, he’s exactly as much of Leslie as ever.
People aren’t like that; but Leslie – and everyone like him – will always be himself,
and will always be young.”
I envied him because he had so much time to do whatever he wanted, and mine
was so limited; so little time for so many things to be done, and I had to hurry. I’d be
able to cherish everything so much better if it weren’t for the haste…
‘You sank into a world of your own,’ Leslie commented on my silence. ‘Come
back here, it can’t be a world any darker. Where were we again?’

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 I shrugged and smiled. I rarely smiled for no reason, but vampires changed you
as well as the world around you. ‘And he knew how to bring out the best in a woman, I
had to give him that.
‘I wanted to praise you a bit, if that’s okay,’ he went on softly. ‘I feel a glow, a
certain radiance about you after all these years. You’re different, and you’ve become
so much of what I once thought you had the potential to be. I like that.’ His silvery
eyes flickered in the darkness like little diamond slits in the fabric of the universe. ‘Do
me a favor: don’t look back. You are better off this way, and I can tell you’re happier.
Live the life I gave up. Not that I’m complaining,’ Leslie added, ‘I’m a family man
now. But you know – that craving, you know the one. It’s lost for me, but for you it’s
just ahead... I see you’ve already started giving in…’
‘Some would call that immoral,’ I noted sarcastically. Leslie extended his
permanent grin.
‘There is nothing wrong about this. You’re forgetting you’re not a random
human being on her way to hell, blindly following temptation. You’re not even really
choosing it. You’ve just finally stopped kicking and clawing against your true nature.’
I had to admit that he was wise for a person who looked so young. Sometimes it
was hard for me to grasp that he was, anatomically, twenty-two. Then again, most
times it was harder for me to grasp that, in every other way, he wasn’t.
‘Wera, Wera,’ he sighed in a quiet, dreamy manner. ‘What a weird name you
chose for yourself. The human part of the wolf, directly translated from the context.
You kept trying to escape being who you are: Canis lupus. You always knew there was
much more than fur and howling to it, and you feared what you might find deep down
there besides the nature of a pet without a leash… and you’re finding it now, aren’t
you? You’ve discovered you’re no dog, no pet, and that no pet will ever be fit for you.
And, that there are so many sweet little fragrances you’ve longed for all your life…
Rush… Freedom… Solitude… Blood… Passion… Lust…’
I hated the way he emphasized on the last word with his suggestive, cunning
tone. I’d rather he’d winked and nudged me perversely.
‘Yes,’ I admitted painfully. ‘I’m feeling all of this alright. I can barely sleep now
when the moon is shining. Or when it’s raining,’ I added with a frown. ‘I used to think
I’d miss the summer once it was over. And now I’m all about walks in the rain and
breathing in the cold, lonely scent of damp leaves and what not. Autumn was never as
charming to me as it was this year, with its melancholic gloom. And won’t you please
slap me across the face when I’m talking like that!’
‘There is indeed something erotic about the gloom.’ For Leslie, sooner or later,
everything got down to sex. I didn’t want him to be right, but he probably was.
‘Anyway, the point is,’ he continued less dirtily, ‘that you are more of yourself than
you ever were. You’re proud, wild, free; you follow your dark desires and are enjoying
the taste of it all. The life of a wild thing, a creature not bound to man, ‘cause that is
what you and I both are. And there is no harm in that. But your heart is elsewhere, I
can tell. And you wouldn’t glow so much if it were in the same ditch it was stuck in
for the past few years. There is something new in your heart,’ Leslie reflected, ‘I can
feel it. And I definitely like the scent of it. Something has entered, something wild and
powerful and worthy of your soul’s caliber.’

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 ‘It was more like an invasion,’ I confessed, finding myself to be blushing as if I
were five years younger. ‘But I let it happen. I wanted it, and that’s what I am guilty
of.’
‘What, you’re guilty of love, you say, when it brings out the best and strongest of
you?’ the vampire raised an eyebrow quite high on his wrinkleless forehead. ‘I’m
shocked. Listen, you’re lucky, I think, and you should preserve this feeling, embrace
it!’
‘Hey!’ I must have been redder than this before, but I couldn’t quite remember
when. ‘No one is talking about love yet! Why would you call something spontaneous
that went out of control love?’
‘Love is one of the few things I learned to recognize after five hundred years
around here, wolf girl,’ Leslie brought forth a flawless argument. ‘Besides, the feeling
of love comes in different shapes and sizes. It’s not always tuned to The Backstreet
Boys channel. You’ve known love pure, and love sweet, and love bright, and love
painful – but you have yet to get properly acquainted with wild, dirty love, love like
delicious poison, like sickening alcohol, love dark and bitter and yet really, really
pleasant… but I guess we’ve entered a forbidden subject for you here, right?’ he said,
and he winked. It was about time.
‘Damn right,’ I nodded. ‘Listen, even if I am feeling something like that… this
isn’t going to work anyway. The whole thing is immoral to the bone. And now that I
am here again… I ought to try to believe that I am not this. That I’m not an animal.
That I’m not a beast, or a hunter, or a predator chasing after its prey, getting what it
wants regardless of what’s right.’
‘Oh, darling, this is exactly what you are,’ Leslie grinned widely, making no
effort to conceal his delight. ‘How many times do I have to repeat it? You ought to –
for once – listen to the call of your nature, your blood. This is something humans
become – but for you, it’s what you’ve always been. You are a creature of the night,
do not forget it. Deny it as much as you like, but I understand you on a level people
can’t exactly because I am one too. A beast, a hunter, a killer – ’
‘A dad –’
‘You’re missing the point. I wanted to be tamed. I’m too tired to keep doing the
stupid things I’ve done for five centuries now. Or, at least, I hope I will be one day.
But you, you have limited time. You can’t afford to walk with a muzzle on for the rest
of your life. You’re faced with a choice, and you can’t hide things from me. Come on,
spill it. Who will I tell, count Dracula?’
My stomach contracted as I heard the name of the count. I took a deep breath.
‘Alright,’ I began, ‘just please don’t laugh at me. This is what’s made me feel
more alive than ever… I didn’t choose a pet this time, don’t worry… I wouldn’t swoon
over a pet after all that happened… but when it comes to picking beasts, I think I’ve
bitten off more than I can chew…’
Leslie’s face was a question unspoken. The more I stared at him, the more I saw
just how alike they were, Leslie and the individual in question. And that wicked charm
filling the air like a thick perfume was no exception. That was the thing about
vampires: they carried the essence of the night with them. To the creatures of the day it
made no difference, but to those who were born craving the night, it made all the

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difference. It charged them with power, it brought out the best in them. It set them
free.
To the nocturnal ones the night was not a drug. It was what pulled you out of all
the suffocating mundane trances.
This was our atmosphere. Only within it could we really breathe, feel like we
belong, thrive, breed, love… and in the dark, all these feelings were so very similar…
It took for Leslie to just see the dreamily lost look in my eye to know what I was
hiding. Of course, he wasn’t dumb enough to believe that this was all about Huck.
Huck was all too wonderful, but he was like a brother to me, nothing more. But he was
clever enough to figure out that it had to be someone of the same, um, blood type.
‘No!’ At the beginning he just laughed in disbelief, and then, like a lollipop
melting, a smile as dirty as a first-class brothel flowed across his lips. ‘Oh my God,’ he
exclaimed, ‘this is so romantic! So dramatic, so wild! Imagine what would happen if
you actually didn’t waste it!’
‘I wish I had a choice,’ I sighed. ‘But that’s a doomed idea, you see.’
‘Yes! And that is exactly what makes it so thrilling!’
I stared at the pen I was holding in shame for a little while, ignoring the
fascinated vampire, then started chewing the plastic tip. It was a dog thing.
‘That’s so easy for you to say, Leonard, you have a “go for it” solution for
everything…’
‘No, I don’t. You gave me this piece of advice years ago, remember? Love is
worth it. Eternally, and without limits, or question. So I went for it, thanks to you, I’ll
never forget – yes, we both did…’
‘..and we both lost,’ I reminded him politely. Leslie shook his blond head in a
very non-nocturnal way.
‘I didn’t. I gained something I wouldn’t trade for anything. And mark my words,
if you listen to your own advice, you will too.’
‘Again, it’s easy for you to say,’ I grinned sadly at him. ‘What can I say to you
that you don’t already know, vampire? I’m in love with the night…’
And Leslie smiled back, because he did it so well this evening, and every other
evening, too.
‘I am too, wolf girl. I am too.’
We stared at the rain-drenched stars seen through the window of my room for a
while in a strictly business manner, because that’s as far as werewolves and vampires
got in their communication. Officially, that was the way it was. It was simply a matter
of chemical compounds and blood structure. For the sake of that, and the centuries of
fighting, we owed it to our ancestors to maintain some sort of reserved distance
between us and label it loathing. But this did not manage to ruin the moment.
‘She’s quite the beauty, though, isn’t she?’ Leslie muttered distractedly.
‘Who?’
‘The night. Isn’t she amazing?’
‘Yeah. Definitely.’
‘Nothing quite like her,’ the vampire added in a semi-trance. He looked as in love
as he was four years ago, and his love was pouring from his blissful face and straight
into the plump moon across the deep blue sky. In my world, it was full moon. One of
the many.

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 ‘You are forgetting,’ I added after a moment of awed silence, ‘that the feeling of
love comes in different shapes and sizes. For me, the night is a he, you know.’
‘Oh, don’t worry, I’m not picky,’ Leslie sniggered naughtily, and ruined the
moment in an instant. ‘There’s lots of handsome brooding bastards out there. Wanna
go hunt for some?’
I could come up with a few suggestions on the subject. Not necessarily
handsome, and not necessarily used to being hunted. He never left his own scent for
anyone to follow, for one thing. But I had bond, and a vow, and a bite, and that one
heartbeat he’d skipped imprisoned in my veins. I could always find my vampire.
‘I’ll show you the trail,’ I grinned wickedly. ‘If you have the guts to hunt beside
a wolf, that is.’
‘I don’t, but I can’t let you have the night all to yourself. She’s mine too, you
know?’
‘She’s ours. And it’s a he,’ I quickly corrected myself as the window creaked
open and hair and fangs could almost be heard growing out of proportion.
‘Ours, yes,’ Leslie agreed, just as intoxicated by the lovely, lonely scent of
autumn leaves drenched in rain as I was. ‘And it is howling out for us.’
We sprang down to the ground, wild things on wild land, breathing in the scent
of all that was us. Indeed, there was nothing quite like the night.
And when she was wrapped tightly around you, when you sank into her damp
and comforting embrace, and felt her delightfully scented sweat upon your thirsty skin,
you realized that you could never love another.

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