VROLOK (21 page)

“Do not lecture me about family loyalty, and certainly do not mention my brother to me. You who know nothing about the things you speak.”

“I know more than you think,” retorted Isabella.

“Quiet, Isabella. That is always your mistake. You are always talking when you should listen. Do you remember ever hearing about a man called János Hunyadi?”

“I am in no mood for one of your stories,” Isabella answered.

“Be quiet, Isabella and listen to me for once. Do you know who he was?”

“Yes, he was the man who killed your father and brother. He supposedly tortured them and then you joined forces with him to regain the throne. Are you trying to tell me that Vincente is dead and that you don‘t care about my obligation?”

“Isabella, listen to me please, how did he die?”

“There are conflicting reports. Some say he died of plague, and others say he died in battle.”

“He did not die in battle. He had pledged to help me regain the throne, which I was about to do. I didn’t need him any more. So I knew that it was time that János paid for my brother’s and father’s deaths. I knew where he was about to attack because he had taken me into his confidence. It was cold the night the he died. I crept into his tent; no one knew I was there. I was supposed to be fighting with him. He was asleep. He had the look of an old man about him. I couldn’t just kill him. I wanted him to suffer. I put a little hemlock poison in his wine. Every night I continued until he was on the brink of death; then it was time to confront him.

“He was in so much pain by this point that he could hardly stand when he saw me. I wanted him to know who was killing him and why. I whispered in his ear…did he remember the looks on my father’s and brother’s faces when he tortured and killed them? This startled János—he got up from his bed and looked at me. He looked at me with affection, not even suspecting I had been slowly poisoning him. I asked him again. Did he remember what my father and brother looked like when he tortured and killed them? He asked me what I was taking about; I asked him…did he honestly think that I would forget what he did to my family? I had dug up their coffins and had seen his brutality. His men had burned out their eyes and buried them alive.

“János protested and said they were his enemies. He screamed out in pain; it was getting painful for him to even breathe. I told him I had done this to him. I had caused him this pain. I approached his deathbed and said that I would not rest until every one of his line was dead. He screamed out once more and then he died. I had slowly tortured him to death, just as he had tortured my father and younger brother. As a tribute to him, his soldiers whispered that he died in battle. They thought it was the plague that had actually taken him. The soldiers were too loyal to what they thought was a great military leader and they spread a rumour that he died fighting and not in his bed.

“Later on Matthias, his son, was ruler. He had kept me in prison at my older brother’s request and I never forgot my promise, even though I had lost the will to do it. The last thing I did before I died was go to Vienna and kill him. I slowly poisoned him with hemlock poison just as I had done with his father. As he was nearing death, I appeared to him and told him what I had done to his family. You see, I know all about family obligation.”

“That is not the same and you know it. You paid that family back for revenge. Vincente’s mother was my only friend and I cannot let the boy die; he is simply foolish and impetuous. I promise you…I feel nothing for him but I have a strong obligation to his mother. Please let him live and I will send him away, I promise you. I will never see him again,” Isabella made her last plea to save Vincente’s life.

“Vincente is safe from me, rest easy,” Vlad stated.

Isabella believed Vlad would keep his word and the sense of foreboding that had accompanied all throughout this journey soon dissipated. She was wrong to let it do so.

Isabella went to wake Vincente; he looked like a child to her now, just an impetuous fool who thought he was in love. She woke him and started to tell him what had happened.

“You are safe Vincente, but after today you must leave this place,” Isabella warned.

“When will I see you again?”

“You won’t,” Isabella said gently.

“But….”

“But nothing. I have saved you twice from death. My debt to you and your family is paid in full.”

Vincente was angry. If Isabella had abandoned him, he would have nothing in his life. “Your debt is far from paid in full…for you stole my vision from me,” Vincente shouted. “I can‘t paint anymore! All I see are blurred visions shrouded in light. I don‘t want to paint only at night!”

Isabella was startled by this revelation. He was a child, just a spoiled child.

“Your vision? You can‘t paint anymore? Is that what you are upset about?” Isabella scolded. “Would you rather I had let you burn? Do you remember how that felt, do you remember the pain?”

“Do you think I would have wanted to live if I had been told the truth? Told about what an abomination I was to become? Someone that skulks around in darkened alleyways looking for food? How dare you cast me aside after all that you have done to me!”

“All that I have done to you? I saved your life! You have no idea of the gift I have bestowed upon you and the power that you have and what I risked to give it to you. I wanted your mother to live forever; I never really wanted you to live more than your time. As I watched you dying I thought your mother would have wanted to me to save your life and that is the only reason that I did.”

“How did you know my mother?” Vincente demanded. “Tell me!”

“I helped your mother kill your father. He was a Medici and he raped your mother.”

“A Medici?” Vincente said in astonishment. “I could have been rich.” Vincente didn’t seem to care that his father had raped his mother.

“Didn’t you hear what I said? He raped your mother. You could have been brought up in his world and have been shown no love whatsoever.”

“That was not your choice to make,” Vincente said. “You have taken so much from me.”

“I ensured that you were loved, Vincente. Believe me, that is a precious thing.”

“It means nothing to me.”

Isabella by now had grown exhausted with this conversation. “I can’t talk to you anymore. I have given you a lot more than I have given anyone else. I may have taken earthly power from you, but you should realise the power you now have.”

“If I could throw your great gift back in your face I would.”

At this Isabella left the tent in fury. She knew Vincente would have to leave soon but she would let him calm down before she would speak to him again. And of course Vlad had heard their discourse.

The troops were starting to take their places on the battlefield. Isabella, Vincente and Vlad were waiting for them to begin as they all had insatiable appetites. The fighting started and Isabella rushed into the battle, killing as many as she could to quell her thirst. Vincente did likewise but Vlad remained behind them. The army fought long and hard into the night. Isabella had not been paying attention because she believed that Vincente was safe from harm, but she should have known better. Vlad picked out a soldier from the crowd and stood beside him and started to whisper in his ear.

“Look in front of you. Do you see a man killing your troops? All your other enemies mean nothing. He is killing everyone. Do you see him?”

The man answered “
Yes!”
Everything apart from Vincente was a blur to him, and all he could see was Vincente under Vlad’s influence.

“He is killing everyone in your army; you have to stop him. You will be a hero if you do.”

“He is strong, how do I kill him?” the soldier asked.

Vlad poured a red liquid on the soldier’s sword and said, “You cut off his head with your sword. Now go!”

The man ran towards Vincente, his sword in hand. A sudden panic came over Isabella; she sensed something was going to happen. She looked around and saw Vlad smiling at something. She turned to see what he was looking at and saw the man running towards Vincente, wielding the sword.

She ran towards Vincente, screaming for the soldier to stop. Isabella got close enough to reach out for Vincente’s hand. He looked at her for a second and smiled as if to say all was forgiven. In the next moment the smile was stricken from his face as the soldier’s sword struck him from behind, his face now contorted in pain, his head fell to the ground. Isabella screamed out for her friend’s dead son. She sat on the ground weeping for him. She touched his hand and a familiar feeling swept over her; it was a peaceful feeling. It was just as she remembered it. Vincente had joined Nicolae and she was glad.

Isabella’s scene of bereavement did not go unnoticed by the rest of the fighting armies. She was sitting on the ground staring at Vincente’s bloodstained clothes. The men started to whisper to each other that they had not seen a woman on the field until this moment. Isabella had camouflaged herself using her power but now she was so overcome with grief she let her power slip and she appeared to the soldiers. It seemed to the soldiers that this woman had appeared out of thin air and they were scared; they thought she was a ghost. Isabella was too distraught to notice the rumblings of the soldiers. The army started to panic. There had been so many deaths within the camp that they thought they were cursed. One of the soldiers approached Isabella.

“She looks to be flesh,” he shouted.

“She must be killed to free us from the curse,” Vincente’s killer shouted.

Vlad was watching from close by and just before Vincente’s murderer struck Isabella, Vlad had her in his arms and whisked her away from danger. He carried Isabella deep into the nearby forest.

When Isabella regained her senses she pounded her fists on his chest and shouted, “You lied to me!”

“Did you honestly believe I would let him live?” Vlad answered, “You know me well enough.”

“I believed you would not lie to me,” Isabella said, and her voice shuddered as she spoke. Vlad tried to hold Isabella but she flinched from his touch. She had had enough of him. She started to walk away.

“Come back, Isabella, where are you going?” Vlad called out after her, but Isabella did not answer him and disappeared into the forest. Vlad would not see her again for another ten years.

SANQUIS EST VIA
THE BLOOD IS THE LIFE 

CHAPTER NINE

Isabella had left Vlad. She was resolved never to see him again. She may not have been cognisant of it yet but something would always bring her back to him—no matter how determined she was to stay away. However, not for the first time, Isabella was determined to get as far away from him as she could.

Isabella went home briefly to see Katya’s family before she left. Katya’s daughter, Isabella, had died and when she entered Katya’s old house she found Isabella’s granddaughter, Gizella. Isabella’s granddaughter looked happy now. There were no signs of abuse, no more bruises on her skin. Isabella was glad, not for the girl, for if the truth be told she thought Gizella was an idiot, but she was pleased that she was keeping her promise to Katya.

“Are you well?” Isabella asked, feigning concern.

“I am,” Gizella answered. Both women seemed to have a mutual contempt for the other, which neither of them could completely disguise, but these women were bound to each other and Gizella would be part of Isabella‘s life until she died and was replaced by another member of her family.

“Does your family need anything?” Isabella continued.

“Nothing you can give us.”

Isabella was amazed at this woman’s abrupt reply but said nothing. The two women were distracted as a young child wandered into the room and ran to tug at her mother’s skirts. “This is Katalin,” said Gizella.

“How old is Katalin?” Isabella asked.

“She’s eight.” Isabella bent down to greet the child, she perceived a foreboding aberrancy in this child; it was as if a darkness enshrined her, a strange maliciousness, a sense of some wickedness that this child would be responsible for. Gizella then leaned down and picked up her daughter. She had been unnerved by the Vampire’s attentions.

“Don’t worry, I won’t hurt her,” Isabella said.

Gizella instantly replied, “I know you won’t. I am just afraid of your influence,” with a sharpness in her voice.

“My influence. Be careful Gizella, I will only tolerate so much acrimony.”

“I just mean the child is easily led astray; she has a viciousness within her,” Gizella said dismissively. The door now opened for second time and the child’s father entered the room. When he saw Isabella he dropped the wood he was carrying and fell back against the wall. The man cried out at the top of his voice.

“I never touched her!” he said frantically.

“I know you haven’t. That is why you are still alive,” answered Isabella with a smile. Isabella’s granddaughter looked at the Vampire standing in front of her. She had not known until this moment why her husband’s attitude towards her had changed. Gizella’s heart softened slightly towards her grandmother’s namesake.

Isabella walked towards Gizella’s husband, who was shaking all over. She ran her finger over the scar that she had left him.

“It has healed well,” Isabella stated. The man batted Isabella’s hand from his face, a nervous almost involuntary reaction to Isabella’s touch. Katalin’s father was standing in front of the door. Isabella pressed her finger gently on the top of his left arm and pushed him out of the way. When she was outside the door she turned back towards him and said.

“Be good.”

“I will…I will,” he called to her fervently. As he did so, he tripped over the wood he had dropped and fell to the floor.

Isabella wanted nothing more from Vlad; she was intent on leaving the province without returning to the castle. She was not even tempted to retrieve her portraits. However, she could not resist one last look up at the castle before she left. There was no sign of life, not a candle in a window or even a glimpse of smoke coming from the chimney.

As before, Isabella travelled through Europe and as before whispers about plagues and the Black Death followed her, for Isabella was not one to curb her appetite. She now was starting to hear a new sort of rumour about witches and reformation. A fresh plague was crossing Europe, but this one was completely abhorrent and completely synthetic.

After a few months she found herself in France. She was walking through the streets on a dark, misty, near silent night with only the church bells echoing through the air. Isabella as always was looking for food. She was suddenly struck by the stench of death. Someone in one of these silent houses was dying, and where there was death there were always people. She heard whispers coming from the top of the house beside her. Isabella listened and waited outside. A priest was talking to a dying man.

“Until tomorrow,” the priest said.

“You will not find me alive at sunrise,” the man responded. This man would not be the only one who would be dead at sunrise, Isabella thought. She waited for the priest by the door. The priest came downstairs and saw Isabella with his failing eyesight and in the failing light the priest thought she was a nurse coming to look after the man inside.

“Thank goodness,” the priest said “for he is in a lot of pain.” The priest opened the door and invited the Vampire to enter the house. He did not know it but with this action he had saved his own life. Isabella went inside and climbed the stairs leading up to the dying man. The man was already asleep when she entered the room. Isabella crept towards him but he sensed her presence and awoke. He lit the candle beside his bed and peered around the room. His eyesight was declining but he still managed to see Isabella standing there in the shadows. He was terror-stricken by the sight of her

“The black angel has come for me!”

Isabella was intrigued by this response. “What do you mean?” Isabella inquired.

“I have seen you!” he gasped.

“Seen me?” asked Isabella.

“Visions of you, ever since I was a child,” he said, wanting her to stay and listen to him.

“Visions?” Isabella replied. The man was slowly starting to calm down. He had not expected the black angel as he called her to be so rational and articulate.

“If you tell me what you mean, I will spare your family,” Isabella continued.

The man settled down and motioned for Isabella to sit on the chair beside him. He believed her and he also was aware that if she wanted to kill him, nothing would stop her. Isabella sat down and listened to the dying man’s revelations.

“I have been a man of medicine for most of my life. When I was about eighteen I saw my first plague victim. They blamed the Black Death outbreak for the deaths in the village, but this outbreak was different. There were no visible signs of the plague but people were still dying before their time. I examined several of the victims. There were no signs of disease or decay on the skin. The other doctors I was with dismissed it as the Black Death. When physicians can’t explain what has happened to someone they blame the most prevalent disease of the time.

“After the tenth man of the village had died, I was left with the body and I went over to examine it. I saw no visible signs of disease, no sign of violence, either. I felt for a pulse on his neck, thinking maybe he was still alive, fearing that the other doctor I was with was completely incompetent. But there was no pulse.

“When I pulled my fingers away from his neck I noticed a couple of spots of blood on my fingers. I examined his neck more closely and suddenly a myriad of pictures fused together in my mind, coalescing into a vision. It was of you in that vision! I saw you creep into this man’s room, kiss him on his neck and then suck the life from his body. I knew at that instant that you would kill my future wife and children like this and that one day you would sneak into my room.

“People have said for years that I am a good physician, for if any outbreak like this occurred, I could usually stop it. But it had nothing to do with my medical knowledge on this occasion—in the vision I saw something. I saw you step away from roses that were by the dead man’s bed. From then on, in every potion I made, I crushed rose petals into it, to ward you off. Just in case it was not plague that people were dying of, but the touch of a Vampire.”

Isabella was amazed by this story. She had premonitions and could read people’s minds but she had never heard of a human being able to do the same thing. It scared her slightly; it reminded her not to underestimate anyone. Here was an old man who had held a clue to what could keep Isabella away from humans. Some roses were pungent enough to make her feel nauseous, and if one of her intended victims had consumed such flowers, she could smell it of them, she could taste it their blood. This man had probably saved dozens of lives.

“I won’t kill you,” she said to the dying man. “You will be dead soon enough. The stench of death fills this room. I would kill you if I thought you were going to survive the night, but as promised I will leave your family in peace.” As Isabella got up to leave the room the man grabbed her arm. Isabella drew back from him but could not quite relinquish his grip. A faraway look came over his face as if he was seeing something off in the distance, something harrowing. He began to speak.

“The one that will obtain government from the great seized, will be induced by some to execute ruin: The Twelve Reds will agree to soil the cloth, under murder, murder will perpetrate itself,” the old man said.

“What are you saying?” Isabella asked, for he was not making much sense.

“You will be there; you will see the reign of terror.”

“I don’t understand,” Isabella replied.

“You will be there,” he repeated.

“Be where?” Isabella asked, trying to make some sense of what this man had said.

“You will know when it happens,” the old man pleaded.

“When what happens?” asked Isabella, desperately wanting to know more.

“You have to stop it! Promise me you will?” His grip was tightening on Isabella’s arm and he pulled her in close to him. Isabella felt that this man believed that the whole world hinged on her agreeing to do what he asked. She was compelled to appease him.

“I will do what I can,” Isabella said. “But how can I stop anything if you do not tell me what it is?” The last breath left his body and he did not say another word.

Isabella remained for another few days; she watched and waited for the man to be buried. The funeral was quite large; this man would be missed. Isabella decided to ask one of the attendees who he was. She wanted some clue as to what the man had asked of her.

“Whose funeral is this?” Isabella asked.

“Michel, Michel De Nostredame.” This was no help; Isabella left not knowing what his words meant; perhaps she never would.

A few years later Isabella found herself back in the woods near Vlad’s castle. She felt it her duty to check in with Katya’s family. Or rather, she told herself that this is what brought her back to her home country.

When she opened the door she was surprised to see no children in the house. This house had always been filled with the echoes of children’s laughter. The only person who now occupied this lonely and abandoned place was Gizella. Isabella’s entrance woke Gizella and she started to talk to the Vampire.

“It has been a long time,” she said. Isabella turned to face her. She could see that the woman standing before her had visibly aged.

Isabella answered her ward. “Has it been?” Isabella asked.

Gizella replied sadly, “Eleven years.”

“Eleven years? Time makes such visible changes to you humans,” Isabella remarked.

“Time is precious,” Gizella answered.

“Not to me. When you have so much of it, it seems less precious,” Isabella replied poignantly.

“I am sure it used to be precious to you as well,” Gizella inquired.

Isabella reflected on her life and said, “I am not sure any more what was precious to me…I can’t remember.”

Gizella looked at Isabella and replied thoughtfully, “You can remember. You’ll never be able to block it out; that is your curse, to be completely alone with your memories.”

“That’s enough!” Isabella declared. Obviously Gizella had not lost her contempt for her.

“Why are you alone? Where is your family?”

“My husband is dead; he had a bad heart,” Gizella said.

Isabella laughed. “I wonder what gave him a bad heart! Your daughter Katalin, where is she?”

“She married and left the village,” Gizella answered.

”To go where?” Isabella asked.