Into the Night

Dracula

It was the night itself that alerted me; as if the very air kindled and stirred unease, reflecting in the behavior of the animals. The horses were skittish but it remained unnoticed by their keepers, who were far too engrossed in speechless longing. Oh yes, I had seen the looks that crossed their faces at the sight of Kelantha alighting from the carriage, as a mythical goddess might leave both throne and shrine in favor of walking amidst the faithful. They were left to gaze forlornly once their idol disappeared down the shadowy path, ignoring the horses who tossed their heads indignantly and stomped out their excitement. For Kelantha I had no misgivings; she was exceptionally skilled in the hunt, and would take her vengeance. It was the distrustful fury of the innkeeper�s dog as it growled at an intangible threat; the absolute lack of discernment of the men who tarried outdoors; even the way the moon remained hidden behind the dark clouds. Everything in the night whispered of a nameless presence, a presence I could feel so strongly it flooded my senses. I walked out into the forest, leaving the dimly lit scene behind me and turning my face to the sylvan glade. A wanderer I may have been, but I had felt this aura too keenly to be insensible to its rhythm and pulse. If I was being drawn into the thick wood for reasons unknown, why, then every step I took issued an invitation.  But if it was I who had been drawing it in, then each step was a solemn threat.

The sound was so minute at first, I half believed I had willed it into existence, but it was resolute, and consistently followed. The pace was steady but the distance was exaggerated�my friend, it seemed, would not be the one to initiate the festivities. Yet the moonlight danced in patches on the brown earth, and in the distance, a small clearing revealed a stream gurgling over its rocky path. For one moment I paused to admire the matchless beauty before me. In the next, my hand was clamped around a throat and I had pinned the rest of my pursuer harshly to a tree. The bark broke off as I pressed the head deeper against the unyielding wood, emitting a cry of shock as all the breath left the body in a surprised gasp. It was human, then�or appeared to be.

�You ask for no introduction, so I offer none,� I intoned calmly, �In thirteen seconds your voice box will be broken: I suggest you state your purpose now.�

The response was not audible, nor did I expect it to be. I released my grip long enough to draw my hand back, forming a fist as I watched it struggle for breath. It was not a vampire; why, then, did I sense it so keenly?  Its hacking had become wearisome, and I dealt the blow swiftly. The assailant dropped to its feet, and I withdrew slowly, expecting that the loss of only its voice, painful as it may be, was entirely too generous. That very voice froze my step with its faltering clarity.

�You should not have come.�

What my sentiments were, what thoughts raced through my mind in the moments that followed, it would be impossible to describe. The words could not have been spoken; I knew I had broken the voice box, that it was a physical impossibility for anyone to remain unaffected. Yet the words themselves contained greater venom. I returned to the clearing and stood near the figure that coughed and sputtered on the ground.

�When I was not even six years of age I witnessed a man being killed for the first time.� The indifference in my tone contrasted with the intensity in my eyes. �I saw them break his voice box, then break every bone in his body, and he was forced to choke on his own agony, not being able to express it. It was a Turkish practice, for I was in the Turkish court, and took copious notes of the occurrences around me. Can you imagine what I was doing there? I had been sent�by my father. If you had any notion what it was to grow up in the court of your enemies, to return home to the one who bartered your life without a moment�s hesitation, to claim and reclaim the throne that was rightfully yours and repeatedly denied�� I paused until the pair of eyes met my own, �No, but you haven�t any notion. This foolishness has cost you before, has it not?�

�Why are you saying this?� it rasped, forcing itself to sit upright.

�I will very shortly kill you, and I want you to know that one you presumed to affront tonight possesses the land you kneel upon, the air you are so desperately gasping, and the pitiful life you are trying so miserably to preserve.�

It was miserable, glaring up at me with dark, sunken eyes. �Strangle me, then, do what you will�it will all amount to nothing. My spirit will always return here.�

�You would claim immortality?� My lips curved in amusement. �There are no other immortals who would dare use my land as their hunting ground.�

�A vampire I am not�I have not the advantages of the race,� it spat bitingly. �We merely share the same curse.�

�Produce it or go to the devil.�

The resentment in its gaze was bitter, yet it maintained even accents. �The Greeks wrote of Furies in their ancient texts, spirits who wandered the earth and expressed themselves only��

��by angry murmurs,� I completed. �And yet you are using your vocal faculty remarkably well. Tell me, Fury that you are: is that also a part of your curse? To speak to those who have no desire to listen?�

�It takes years to lose the faculty of speech; I have been wandering for but ninety. The elders have lost their command of language, but I may still intercede for them. They are restless. They are burdened.�

�What have you to say for them? Speak quickly, or not at all.�

The dark eyes danced feverishly. �There is an intruder�one who trespasses on the hallowed soil. And they will destroy the interloper.�

�Do so and be damned,� I ordered tersely, my impatience rapidly giving way to ire. �Let them attempt to come against me, when the blood of my ancestors was spilled here and consecrated this ground.�

�No,� the Fury said with dubious patience, �You are of the land and the forest, as it is of you. But she is not.�

So sharply did the entirety of my consciousness turn to Kelantha, my mind spun. I left the Fury to rot if it would in its penurious condition; I willed my thoughts to be clear and to focus on her location. I could see her strolling in the moonlight; her step was light and graceful as she hummed an aria under her breath. She had fed already but intended to seize the night, glorious as it was.  I could see the Furies further in the distance, their collectively haggard appearance creating the illusion of a deathly cold wind. I reached out to her with my inner voice, severely and rigorously: Kelantha. You must turn back, now. They are many in number. And I will not be able to stop them.

Though she stayed her step momentarily, even turned slightly in recognition, she did not stop. I did not stop reaching out, this time more urgently, as I flew through the inky midnight: Kelantha, do you hear me?  They will kill you, and I will not be able to prevent it!

This time she did stop, peering through the darkness as if waiting for something, someone, to arrive. She had not fully understood me but her senses were awakened, and she became aware of the mournful noises and the pale luminescence. Nothing could have prohibited the Furies from taking flight that evening, or from closing in upon their ill-chosen victim. My design, once I had reached the ground she stood upon, was not to force them back by means of superiority. Renegade spirits such as theirs did not answer to sovereignty. I acted purely upon the impulse to protect, all my instincts ablaze and screaming. I snatched Kelantha and crushed her to me, placing one hand guardedly against the back of her head, forcing her face to hide against my neck; the other arm encircled her frame. We were kneeling on the causeway, my cape spread out on either side, as I bent over her, shielding her body with my own. 

The Furies descended as a monstrous gale, their terrible cries united in common bereavement, reaching out their eager fingers for the trespasser. I could feel the change as my blood teeth lengthened, the light in my eyes deadly as I clutched Kelantha closer, a low warning sound in the back of my throat that ended in a snarl. They had surrounded us but a new expression entered the sunken eyes as they met my cold predatory gaze. The Furies recognized the stance and lowered their heads in acknowledgement. The placement of my hands, the presence of the blood teeth and the irate hostility all signified one thing: they had intruded upon another predator�s prey. When they gestured their regret, it was from no notion of subordination. They knew what conduct was expected; they knew better than to take the prey another predator had already chosen for his own. They vanished into the forest as they had come, their desolate shrieks echoing through the night.

Before daybreak we were gone, leaving behind the provincial inn and the forest haunted by memories.

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