HUNGER OF THE WICKED

8.

Zelenogorskiy, April 30, 2011

Darya emptied her bag under Rempert’s sharp gaze. As agreed, she had brought her belongings and settled in the opulent room that the vampire had prepared for her. The room was spacious, tastefully furnished, and had a high window with heavy velvet curtains. The imposing oak dresser on one of the walls could hold twice as much clothing as she possessed. Leaning against the doorframe, still dressed in an impeccable three-piece suit, he was interested in the slightest of her gestures. She gave him an amused smile when she realized that he looked away when she put away her lingerie.

“I never imagined shy vampires,” she said cheerfully.

“We are not all boors without education, cara amica. I have the idea that if I had been the all-hands type, your reaction would certainly have cost me a knee.”

“I couldn’t have said it anywhere near so well!” she laughed.

Her clothes in order, she took out the last things in the bag and placed them on the bedside table. There were photos of her parents, in a double wooden frame, and a bright red carnelian beetle that immediately caught the attention of Ugo da Vignola. He approached and took it, holding it above his head, towards the ceiling light. He looked at it for a long time before returning it to its owner.

“A remarkable antiquity you have there.”

“Really? It’s a souvenir from my parents, a gift for my fifteenth birthday.”

“This beetle is very old. I would say the first century of our era.”

“Are you sure?”

She couldn’t imagine her parents, with modest incomes, possessing such a treasure and not reselling it. Her employer must have been mistaken.

“Certain. You could get a long vacation from it.”

She looked at it with a fresh eye, as if she saw it for the first time. Each particle of light caused a splendid reflection on its surface, like the crystalline water of the mountains. She could see her mother’s wonderful smile.

“Not in this lifetime,” she whispered.

“I understand you, memories are worth more than gold.” He caressed her back tenderly before changing the subject. “Do you think you can find your way around at night?”

“It depends. If it’s just to go from point A to point B...”

“No. You will need to locate a specific place.”

“In that case, it’s better to go by day. Where is it exactly?”

“The truth is, I am looking for something that I hid here many years ago. The problem, you see, is that my memory plays tricks on me.”

“You don’t know the exact place?” Darya wondered.

“I have only vague indications. I am counting on you to enlighten me.”

The situation was not without interest. There was certainly something exceptional in this strange confession of helplessness that was neither a bother nor satisfaction to the vampire. A prodigious being, with powers difficult to quantify, suffering from simple amnesia, a disorder rather associated with trauma for a human. The girl could only point out the amusing fact.

“Oh, cool! I’m going to scour the countryside with a vampire suffering from Alzheimer’s!”

“I forbid you to mock!” he replied, not at all offended.

He smiled, but Darya felt, under this mask of apparent calm, that this search was of paramount importance to him. He approached the subject lightly, yet nothing else mattered to him. She was sure of it.

Rempert allowed himself to stare without adding anything. Surprising as it may seem, his young guide understood him perfectly, guessed his thoughts, and this certainty disturbed and attracted him at the same time. Accustomed to avoiding contact with normal humans, he felt all the more strongly the empathic bond that united him to Darya. For a second, he had a burning desire to kiss her. It would be a mistake. Suddenly brought back to Earth by reason, he turned away and withdrew in silence.

“Sleep. Tomorrow we will leave for the first reconnaissance.” He turned for a moment, hesitated, then opted for banality. “Buona notte.”

“Goodnight.”

Her answer seemed silly, though logical. She could have tried to push things, take the lead, but she was cautious. She couldn’t forget, under no circumstances, that this man was a vampire, the kind of person you don’t meet every day. Someone unpredictable and potentially dangerous. She doesn’t know anything about him. And yet, a small voice, deep in her consciousness, whispered that she could trust him without any restriction. Darya sighed deeply. She had not survived years of trouble by rushing forward blindly. Better to take her time.

With all these thoughts, her eyes fell on the scarab beetle. A priceless treasure. She remembered perfectly the day of her birthday, the radiant face of her mother when she had handed her the little box wrapped with care. From today, our life will be different, my heart. These few words, engraved in her memory, took on a new meaning now that she knew the age of her gift. They knew what they were offering me.

She lay down on the bed, the beetle tight against her chest. She had to understand how her parents, simple workers, had gotten this object. She felt that the answer to this question was a key element that could help her understand some of the events of her past. And maybe even the origin of the curse that had been chasing her for eight years. If at the time, the explanation of the accident had seemed plausible to her, today doubt invaded her subconscious. Working with Droski had taught her a lot about human nature, and not necessarily all good. If her parents, in one way or another, somehow found themselves in possession of a treasure, there’s no doubt that the greed of others could have led to murder. This hypothesis had to be considered. Concerned, she closed her eyes and, against all odds, fell asleep almost immediately.