Marek (Buried Lore Book 1) (22 page)

‘Celeste,
please listen to me. You know that I must escape before this evil takes over. I
must not succumb to the miscreant within me.’

‘Miscreant?’
This had momentarily captured her attention and her wandering eyes glanced in
my direction before attaching to something else.

‘Yes.
I cannot tell you what I have done and what my own sister has done.’

‘Hmm.’

‘Celeste,’
I said a little exasperated. ‘Are you listening to me?’

‘Of
course,
Marek
but I am already weary of this
conversation.’

If I
had not known her before I would say she was rude and shallow.

‘Do
you want to go into town?’ she suddenly asked. Like a puppy suddenly thrown a
new toy she came at me excitedly. ‘Yes. That’s what we’ll do. That will cheer
you up. We’ll do some hunting and then dance into the night.’ She did a twirl
and her skirts swished back and forth. ‘Now what will I wear?’

Perhaps,
I wondered, she had lost her mind. The Celeste I rescued from the farm was
humble, not fickle. Oleander had bewitched her with finery. Her newfound status
had gone to her head.

‘Celeste.
How did you find your voice again?’

She
cleared her throat and, looking like a trapped bird, her eyes darted around the
room.

‘It
was Oleander. She used some healing magic.’

It
made sense but still left me to wonder why. She was trying to keep me here
perhaps. Celeste was a lure.

‘How
did she find you?’

‘It
is easy for someone like her. Oleander knows things.’

‘Did
you find your mother?’

‘Yes.
I found my mother and my father. They are doing very well and were so happy to
see me. I will visit them again soon.’

She
lied but I did not know why. Celeste, I believe, had never met her father.

Celeste
took my hand and flashed her dark eyes at me.
It was a look
that could break apart any man’s heart
,
especially
mine
.

‘Celeste…’

She
leaned into me with her hands against my chest, her face upturned. I bent to
kiss her and my worries temporarily faded. Her lips were cool and soft and I
cradled her head in my hands. I was suddenly delirious with desire and wondered
if I could stay in control of my senses. I drew back from her lips and she
fought to stay close. I pulled her hands away from my chest and the shirt she
had begun to untie.

She
examined me with a cold vacant stare, before suddenly releasing me, annoyed
that I did not yield at that moment. I stepped forward to touch her, reassuring
her that I did want her badly but that it was not the time; that I had much to
take in, that there was still much to do. She tossed her head casually,
uncaring and moving further from me, leaving me the one to feel empty and rejected.

‘Before
you say any more I must tell you that I really like your sister and believe you
are quite wrong about her. I like living here and I’m not going anywhere, but
you can go if you like. Though I doubt you’ll get far.’

I was
stung by her dismissal, her sudden coldness. She confused my emotions, even
more than Zola’s mysterious ways.

‘Oh,
and please don’t call me Celeste anymore. I am
Celestina
.’
And she turned the door handle.

My
stomach began to spasm and I fell forward onto the floor. It was not yet a day
since the wolf incident and I knew what was coming.

Celeste
did not rush to me but seized the opportunity to depart from the room and leave
me to my pain. I did not know which was worse: the emptiness in my stomach or
the void in my heart from her departure.

Another
came instead.

‘It
is time
Marek
. I must say you are hard to change. But
Brother, if you do not follow your instinct you will die.’

‘Get
out,’ I screamed, but it was unconvincing to say the least.

Oleander
held out her hand and for the first time the sight of warmth from her was
overwhelming. Her touch calmed me and I felt like a docile beast begging for
her approval. I howled like a wounded animal. What I would have given to feel
normal again.

‘Come
Marek
.’

‘No,’
I pleaded but it was pathetic. ‘I can’t.’ I was on my knees crying into my lap
from the pain. Only Oleander’s soft voice seeped into my head; everything else
around me seemed to drop away as if the candles had all burnt down, and I was
already dead.

‘I
can help you,’ she said. ‘I am your sister and we will forever be bound by
blood. I can look after you. Don’t fight what you are.’

I
closed my eyes and tried to remember my father and my island but they seemed
like a tiny speck in my mind. All that consumed me was my hunger and the
affliction.

‘Mama
would have wanted this,’ she said. ‘She would have been proud of both of us.’

It
was too hard, too great to fight this demon inside of me.

‘Come,
Marek
.’

And
this time I did.

Oleander
led me to the west wing and to a room. Inside was a man around my father’s age.
His head wobbled from side to side as if he was sleeping, and then I saw the
sticky ooze on his collar. I leaned forward to see bite marks in his neck. I
drew back but Oleander was close behind me, restricting any hasty exit.

‘All
it takes is the first taste,’ she said, ‘then everything gets easier.’

The
man’s eyes opened and he tried to focus. He looked drunk and disoriented but
there were still traces of terror in the way he gripped the sides of the chair.

‘Not
like this,’ I muttered, but Oleander took my meaning for something else.

‘Yes,
perhaps you’re right. The thrill of the hunt is always better. This is too easy
for you and me.’

My
eyes never swayed from Oleander’s golden wavy hair, which flew free that
evening, as I followed her running through the forest. I could barely keep up
with her. Her small feet glided effortlessly across the uneven ground as if she
was weightless.

We
approached a small hut in a forest clearing. Geese and chickens scattered in
pens as we arrived. Oleander peered through a crack in the wooden slats. A man
sat by the fire. He had fallen asleep and I could read his dreams. He had
pictures of a woman and child ill in bed with fever. Oleander’s eyes widened
with intent and I could sense that she would enter.

‘Oleander,
no!’ I beseeched, the ravenous spasms intensifying. ‘I must find an animal.’
But then I remembered the wolf with human thoughts and I could not bear even
the thought of killing animals.

‘
Marek
, you cannot fight this with animal blood. Sooner or
later you will find their souls both useless and tasteless. If you want to
survive, you must feed on the souls of humans.’ She turned to the window and
whispered. ‘You are spared tonight, old man.’

I
ran from her into the forest and she followed me. I retched into the snow and
my sweating brow felt like it was caving in.

Oleander’s
small hand rested on my shoulder. ‘
Marek
. Trust me.
The choice of what you are was not yours the day you were born. You are what
you are or you die.’

‘Then
let me die alone here in the forest.’

‘I
cannot,
Marek
. I am not your enemy. You must open
your mind and let me help you. I will teach you everything.’

Her
words were hypnotic and I found myself following her once more, though I could no
longer walk very fast. I did not know where we were headed and I was too sick
to ask. In the distance was candlelight from another smaller town. A man
hammered metal in his workshop at the entrance and we strolled by masquerading
as humans.

We
walked among them, the imposters that we were. I could smell their blood and my
stomach lurched in response. People looked at me strangely. We were better
dressed than most. It was obvious that we were from out of town.

‘Quickly,’
said Oleander.

I
continued following her between houses at the base of some hills. Small tracks
led to a drinking establishment, and people here were served meals at long
tables. The men gazed at Oleander. They only glanced at me, at my pasty face,
at my hollow eyes, but always back to Oleander. Firstly, I believed because she
was so beautiful in fine embroidered silks and a stark contrast to the
plainness of other women in the room. And secondly, because people – as
it was everywhere – were suspicious of those who were different.

Oleander
ordered two bowls of soup and two glasses of wine from the counter. She paid
handsomely and the barman counted his good measure before offering her a nod.

We
sat down in front of our bowls but neither of us touched them. I watched
Oleander, her eyes cannily scanning the room and beyond. She was listening to
the conversations in the room that no human could hear.

‘
Marek
,’ she whispered. ‘Go through the back door of the inn
and wait for me there.’ I did so straight away, craving fresh air. For the
first time I did not feel the need to question her motives. I leaned against
the back wall and closed my eyes against the light from the setting sun.

‘
Oy
,’ said a lout gruffly, some years older than myself. He
was standing only yards away and I followed his shifty look to find a younger
ruffian on my other side.

They
closed in quickly, kicking me to the ground and groping in my pockets for
change. They stank of ale and urine.

When
Oleander appeared they stopped, a thuggish smile passing between them as if
they had found more riches.

‘I
don’t suppose you’re with this,’ he said pointing at me, as I struggled to
rise. I licked the blood from my split lip.

Oleander
tilted her head seductively.

And
here was the opportunity. I
realised
the instant that
Oleander closed on the thief and clasped her hands around the back of his head,
that she had heard their conversation to beat us and steal our money.

‘Oh,
you are lovely,’ he said with all the charm of a feral cat. ‘Let’s see what
else you have for me.’

The
watching boy was fixated as Oleander put her lips over the thief’s mouth and
began to kiss him, passionately at first, and then her mouth moved swiftly to
his neck. It was too late for resistance from the man; he was
immobilised
, his struggles were useless.

The
smile faded on the youth beside me as he shortly
realised
that something was wrong with his friend. The kiss was too powerful, her teeth
deep within his pulsating vein.

‘Hold
on,’ he said. ‘I think he wants to stop now.’

Oleander
lifted up her head and trickles of blood had formed at the side of her mouth.
‘It is too late for both of you,’ she said. ‘
Marek
,
do as I do.’

I
grabbed the ruffian and placed my mouth near his neck as he aimed a punch to my
stomach. This jolt of pain enraged me and I gripped him fiercely, my canine
teeth piercing first, sinking deep beneath the flesh. I could hear his screams
in my head and
for a second I was maddened by this
but
as the noise subsided, I began to wander through his memories. Scrounging for
food, lots of brothers and sisters, the death of his parents, work stirring
wood tar, and drunken brawls. I convinced myself that I had saved his
wretchedness yet I was bluffing, sucking harder to close the windows to this
young man’s soul. I had seen enough. And then it was just that. Enough!

Oleander
inspected the lifeless husk at my feet with detachment.

‘You
have done well, little brother, but next time you need to draw the life from
their lips before they take their last breath. It is the only way to receive
their souls and complete the process of immortality. You will need to feed as
often as you can to build your strength. In time, the blood will not be enough.
In time, it will be their souls you desire.’

I
had not fully taken in what she had said, still reflecting on what had just happened.

‘We
must destroy the bodies,’ she said.

We
carried our kill deep into the forest and buried the remains.

‘See
Marek
, you have done this world a service. These men
were vagabonds, roaming the countryside, stealing. They were worthless.’

‘They
did not choose their lives. They had nothing.’ I defended them yet even as I
said these words they were hollow. We had taken what choices they had away from
them. I had committed an unthinkable crime.

And
yet with a warm sensation streaming through my veins, I felt so wonderful and
alive. Never had the world looked brighter at night, never had the nightingales
sounded sweeter. And I headed back to our home with new eyes, eager to find
Zola, and especially eager to see Celeste at this evening’s gala.