HUNGER OF THE WICKED

5.

She reached for his cheek and pressed it with her fingertips. Reassured by this successful first contact, she stroked it, an ecstatic smile on her lips. Rempert didn’t move. He didn’t expect this and such a confession caused difficulties. He tried to deflect her.

“Is it not enough to be content with this pleasant view?”

She reacted immediately, stung, and stepped back, her weapon tightly held towards the Italian.

“No! The truth or I hole you!”

“You will not kill me after what you just told me, and you know it.”

“My advice: remove that beautiful smile and answer me. I have a bad temper, Droski didn’t warn you?”

“Sì. Besides, I alone am responsible, I asked for a person such as you.”

Rempert thought for a moment. He didn’t usually rely on a stranger at the first meeting, especially so brief. Yet Darya inspired him with confidence, despite her aggressive ways. A special glow shined deep in her eyes—if he could boast today of venerable age, it was primarily through boundless wisdom.

“Okay. Come near me.”

He accompanied his invitation with a gesture, and a reassuring face. To his relief, she lowered her weapon and obeyed.

“Give me your hand.”

Darya thought at first he was joking but, before his serious appearance, she complied. He took her hand and moved it to lay flat over his heart. He waited a few seconds, just the time it took for her to raise eyebrows in astonishment.

“I am a vampire. Neither dead nor alive.”

The girl was looking at her hand. Under her palm, the delicate fabric didn’t move an inch. No heartbeat, no breathing. Nothing. A dead body. But standing up, a beautiful speaker and seductive, on top of everything else. Vampires were hardly a mystery in Russia, but the rumours that were running around about them didn’t add up with the allure of the Italian dandy. He was more like a character straight out of an Agatha Christie novel than as a terrifying creature of darkness. She smiled and looked up at his face. With his greying hair, his eyes blacker than obsidian, he had a very aristocratic look, far removed from his masculine counterparts. She sighed deeply. How long since she had tastes regarding men? Her only infatuation was ten years ago! This observation hit her like a nice shot of bourbon. Fortunately, she didn’t cry at the least provocation because, in this case, she would have unburdened herself on the beautiful Italian suit of her future employer.

“And now,” Rempert said in a smooth voice, “can we talk?”

“As much as you want,” she whispered.

He glanced at her right side.

“Without your weapon?”

She jumped, as if he had just woken her up, and holstered her Tokarev, her cheeks red. Her free hand was still on the vampire’s heart. She wanted to leave it like that. She needed to feel that he was real, not a new fabrication of her tortured mind.

“I prepared spaghetti carbonara, in case you were hungry. Is that tempting?”

Although this was indeed the case, Darya refused to break the magical moment she was experiencing. After all these years, she finally had the opportunity to have a normal relationship with someone. She almost said that Rempert didn’t know the suffering of the time that passes, when you are ostracized, before remembering that his situation had some similarity with hers. She forced herself to smile.

“I am very hungry, and I’ve never tasted carbonara.”

“Ah!” he made a vexed face. “You Russians, you know nothing about food!”

“Especially me.”

She still hadn’t removed her hand. Yet, it was necessary to, she knew! That’s it, I’m trying to figure out how. She stared at her knuckles. She had to move.

“Cara amica, I can assure you that I will be back before you have said Zelenogorskiy.”

“It’s impossible,” she decreed.

“A challenge? Perfect, I accept! Whenever you want.”

He was sincere, she felt it. She planted her gaze in his, took a deep breath, and then began.

“Zelenogors...”

Darya stopped abruptly, her vision blurred. Her host was gone, it was a certainty, but her surroundings were too blurry to focus on anything. The room turned at a crazy speed and stabilized the next moment. The girl, on the verge of nausea, staggered and caught the first thing that came to hand: the wrist of Rempert. The vampire was standing beside her, a steaming plate in hand, and displaying a satisfied look.

“I told you. Come and get it while it is hot.”

He steered the girl to her place, helped her to sit, and then with a graceful gesture, served her. Darya didn’t even see him lay her dish or discard the rose, which now sat in a small crystal vase. The smell of the cream and bacon rose to her nostrils and she attacked her plate with relish. After two bites, she abruptly looked up. He was gone! Trembling, she looked around, panicked, and jumped as Ugo da Vignola, back to her right, poured grated cheese over her pasta. In her expression, he realized his mistake and stroked her cheek with a tender gesture.

“Excuse me. I will try to warn you,” he sat down and poured her a glass of wine. “How do you like my cooking?”

“Excellent. You are very able, for a man.”

“Ah, Italians are cooks at heart, piccolina!”

“Sorry?”

“This is a nice word for my little one.”

“I’m not as young as that.”

“For me, I am afraid so.”

“How old are you?”

“Four hundred and thirty-seven. I was born on February 17, 1574, in Lombardy.”

Darya stared with wide eyes. She knew vampires can live forever, and rumours of attacks even circulated in her small town of Siberia, but she hardly imagined a vampire over a hundred years old.

“You must be pretty damn good,” she whispered.

“For survival? Certainly. Like you, I think, because, with such an affliction, most humans would have been in an asylum long ago. Or at the end of a rope, that is.”

“I’m the stubborn kind.”

“That is excellent. We are going to get along wonderfully, I am sure.”

“You haven’t told me what my job will be.”

“I would like us to discuss that later. First, you need to bring some clothes here, it will be more convenient for me to have you constantly by my side. I will explain your tasks afterward: I think it will take several weeks.”

She was going to stay in the same house as him! Darya was thrilled, excited as a flea, especially since it was not a small job dispatched in a hurry. Several weeks... She savoured these two simple words and wrote in a corner of her memory the absolute need to thank Droski for this miracle. Already, she had the impression of being invaded by a life-saving fullness, the simple happiness of contemplating a normal human. Reassured, she dared a dash of humour.

“You snore?” she blurted, mocking.

It was her way of showing him that she felt comfortable in his presence, Rempert knew. Amused by her refreshing character, he took a mischievous air.

“No, do not worry. However, I sing in the shower.”

They laughed together. The atmosphere was so relaxed that they forgot, for the moment, their problems. The evening ran its course, punctuated only by the crackling of the fire.