HUNGER OF THE WICKED

9.

The girl woke at the first light of dawn. Grumbling after this second night spent sleeping dressed, she delicately placed the beetle on her bedside table and then got up. She hid her Tokarev under her pillow, went to take a hot shower, changed, and went down to the kitchen. A good smell of fried eggs rose to her nostrils and her stomach gurgled in approval. When she reached the door of the room, she stopped for a moment, fascinated by the spectacle. Rempert, in his shirt and waistcoat, a bright apron tied around his waist, was preparing breakfast while whistling. He sniffed the aroma that escaped from the pan and asked without turning around:

“Eggs over easy?”

Darya went into the kitchen and stood next to the vampire.

“Yes, thanks,” she glanced at him. “You make me think of a cross between an English lord and an Italian chief.”

“Thank you, piccolina. Take a seat, it is ready.”

The girl obeyed and settled in front of the single plate on a heavy wooden table in the center of the room. Vignola served her dish with dexterity and sat in front of her.

“I suggest we leave as soon as you finish your meal if it suits you.”

“Perfect,” she said between bites.

At that moment, her attention was drawn to a small paper animal in front of her glass of orange juice. Her fork suspended, she looked at it, amused. It was beautiful, folded with surprising skill. She glanced at Rempert, who consulted his gold pocket watch, looking detached.

“Did you do that?” she asked, intrigued.

“Indeed, it is my fancy, I must admit.”

“Paper crane?”

“Origami, cara amica, the ancestral art of Japanese paper folding.”

She contemplated him. The more she discovered about him, the more she adored him. This man was worth the detour, no one else could compare to him, no doubt about it. She took the animal and looking it over, nodded, approving the quality of the achievement.

“I meet a vampire for the first time in my life... and I come across a fan of paper cranes,” she said in a mocking tone.

“It is a rabbit.”

“Oh!” She hurried to put it down on the table and patted it on the head with her fingertip. “Excuse me, bunny.”

“You are more caustic than sunlight, you know.”

“I would have said scathing.”

Rempert gave an amused smile, then got up and took off his apron.

“I’m going to change, I’m not equipped for a hike.”

Darya nodded and was hardly surprised not to see him leave. He was gone, that’s all. She would certainly have to get used to this kind of sleight of hand: he must use it often, out of a habit.

The girl felt nervous. Or rather impatient. She was burning to finally know what her employer was so eagerly looking for. Nevertheless, she calmly enjoyed her breakfast, even though it was not very Russian, and drank two large glasses of orange juice before feeling full. She was clearing the table when Rempert magically reappeared in a noble posture, his face deadly earnest. She couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

“Well, what is it?” the vampire asked, slightly offended.

The girl had all the trouble in the world to recover her seriousness. With one hand on her mouth, she once again looked at the elegant Italian with his high leather shoes, his knee-length socks, his quilted wool trousers, his big coat of the same material, and his carefully knitted red scarf. She swallowed several times before finally being able to articulate an audible sentence.

“You know... well, you only need an ice axe, and you could be a nineteenth-century mountaineer.”

“I climbed Mont Blanc if you must know!”

“I’m just saying this, concerning discretion.”

When Rempert raised an inquiring eyebrow, she shrugged. “I’m going to prepare, I won’t be long.”

With that, she went back to her room to get her weapon, jacket, and backpack. Then she went down to the storeroom where she collected some supplies before returning to the kitchen, her face with a smile like she hadn’t worn for eight years. This work had transformed, for her greatest happiness, into a real pleasure.

A few minutes later, they walked quietly on the bank of the Tom, wrapped in the morning mist. Dense and velvety, it afforded visibility reduced to ten meters. Under these conditions, it was easy for a stranger to get lost and Rempert took care not to stray from his guide, especially as the sun darted its rays on the mist, causing the appearance of a thousand glittering small dots. Even protected by his glasses, he found the phenomenon very unpleasant. His friend had to share his opinion because she had folded down the hood of her sweatshirt with an eloquent grimace.

Darya savoured the calm of the surroundings. The noise of cars, barely audible, seemed to come from another world, kept away from their reality by the nebulous mist that enveloped all that it camouflaged with mystery. The girl had the impression of moving in a desert, alongside her companion, silent as a cat. She alone made a noise: her heavy hiking boots creaking on the white ground frost; her breathing, though normal, was heard with astonishing clarity, amplified by the ambient moisture. And it caused small clouds of mist, coming out of her nostrils, unlike her neighbour. Decidedly, ignoring discretion...

She approached the river and found that the thaw was continuing to progress. But now it was no longer her concern—for this year, at least—and she turned around.

“So, where do you want to start?” she asked softly.

“The bridge,” Ugo da Vignola said. “I remember it very well, it can trigger the recollections of other memories.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“No, why?”

“Four hundred kilometres to the south, there are three identical bridges. How do you know that this one is the right one?”

Rempert stopped dead, completely thrown. He didn’t know this detail. It was almost by chance that his route had diverted towards Zelenogorskiy and the vision of the bridge, at the entrance to the city, had triggered an avalanche of images that attested, from his point of view, that he was in the right place. He had made a mistake. His shoulders sagged. His quest was becoming more and more like an ordeal. A dead-end that would eventually drive him crazy.

Even though the vampire’s eyes were hidden by his glasses, Darya knew he was digesting her revelation very badly. He had put too much hope in this small indication, without looking further, obsessed by his meagre discovery. She had to help him. She tenderly took his hand and found, a little surprised, that his coldness didn’t bother her in the least.

“Listen, we must do things differently. Could you describe the landscape to me?”

The vampire looked around him. The mist was still blocking the view, and his extraordinary senses were not enough to overcome this particular obstacle. Rather, in truth, he wouldn’t have made much progress: these details didn’t appear in the few visions he remembered with sufficient clarity. Not to mention that he wasn’t very natural. He shook his head, disappointed.

“The forest, I remember. But do not ask me any questions about trees, for me, they are all alike.”

“Ah! Damn city dweller, alright!”

He knew she was joking and tried to smile, with little success. His face must have looked like an ugly carnival mask.

“And the animals?” she asked.

“Sorry?”

“You know, beasts with hairs or feathers. I was thinking mostly of bears, tigers, lynx... the larger kinds, whatever.”

“I admit I do not remember that kind of thing, I am sorry.”

“Okay. Come, let’s go south. We must tease your memories.”

“Why the south?”

“Female intuition,” she gave him her most serious look but, in the absence of a reaction, preferred to continue. “When you came here, you came from Kemerovo to the north, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t feel anything special on the way?”

The vampire immediately blamed himself for not having thought of this. No, the road from Kemerovo had not evoked anything from him, not even a vague sense of déjà vu. The reason was simple: he wasn’t in the right place. This truth should have undermined his morale, nevertheless, even if he had suffered another failure, he was clinging to an absolute certainty: to have, by his side, the right person. In addition to her other qualities, the girl had a very keen mind that would lead him to his goal, no doubt about that. Restored, he followed Darya’s thinking.

“If the capital does not remind me of anything, then it makes sense that I continue on my way south. Ah, cara amica, you are a pearl!”

“I know,” she replied with an exaggerated expression of indifference.

Rempert put a chaste kiss on her hand before letting himself be dragged along the bank. Solitary walkers, they descended along the Tom, attentive to what surrounded them. The mist was rising as time passed and soon the forest landscape was revealed in all its splendour. Great fir trees invaded both banks for miles, certainly beyond the mountain peaks that the vampire saw in the distance, thanks to his formidable vision. He was now disappointed. What could he recognize in these clusters of trees, similar to the point that he could get lost after a few meters? Nothing. Once again, Darya seemed to feel his mood change.

“Look everywhere. One detail may be enough.”

And Ugo da Vignola obeyed diligently. He lingered on the rocks, the trunks with particular shapes, the tufts of brushwood, and, for what it was worth, the flowers that were blooming among the pebbles. His gaze was drawn by a lynx, far in front of them, majestically perched on an imposing rock, at the edge of the forest. He stopped and stared at it for a long moment. Long after the animal ran away, frightened by the smell of man, the vampire continued to focus on its perch.

“Rempert?”

Darya’s voice startled him. He turned to her, a radiant smile on his lips.

“A tiger. I remember seeing a tiger in the forest. Is that a clue?”

Hope dripped from every word. The girl felt a kind of distress and she realized that his endless search undermined him to a point that she couldn’t imagine. How long has he been searching, exactly? She squeezed his hand in hers.

“An excellent clue, yes. You have to go further south: there are no tigers here.”

“Perfect, let’s go!” he replied, impatient, before getting back on the track.

“One second! I’ll have a bite to eat.”

The vampire pivoted around, fists clenched against his thighs. His face, distorted by a curious mixture of anger and anxiety, seemed about to break down. When he spoke, his voice betrayed his annoyance.

“I do not believe it! I am getting close, now is not the time to eat!”

And without waiting for an answer, he started again, leaving Darya stunned by his reaction. She felt the importance of this search for her companion but she didn’t understand why, suddenly, he seemed so close to a nervous breakdown. She followed him at a reasonable pace, determined to remain on her guard. She mustn’t let her feelings take precedence over caution.