Marek (Buried Lore Book 1) (27 page)

Marek’s
laugh was bitter. ‘I have nothing to thank you for. There is no safety here.
Your little dog, Jean, wants me dead.’

‘Jean
is harmless really. He is prone to certain desires that let his character down.
He would not have killed you. Your own instinct and power would have risen to
the challenge. It is your confidence in your own abilities that lets you down.’

There
was a long pause.

‘I
am willing to overlook your disrespect, and see that no harm comes your way. I
take care of my own, especially my own blood brother.’

‘And
the ones in the cellar? I see how you take care of your own kind. They are
miserable beasts living in a dungeon.’

‘The
ones in the cellar were, and are, weak-minded rebellious creatures out of
control. They are dangerous to our kind and not strong enough to survive in
this world. They threaten to expose us. I lock them up to be kind to them and
look after the rest of us. You and I are strong, as are many others in our
circle.

‘The
first time I took human blood it was from a cup as you did for I was too small
to bleed a victim of my own. You ran from this yet I was gripped from the very
first time I learnt of my potential. It was my destiny and seemed so logical
that with the powers of witchcraft we must be a higher order than humans. We
are perfect,
Marek
.’

‘Is
that why you chose another body? You were so perfect? Did you murder the girl
whose body you stole?’’

‘I
see that Irene has given up much of what was shared in confidence,’ she sighed.
‘The souls of humans guarantee immortality but it does not stop our bodies from
ageing.
When a
strigoi
ages he
needs to rest, sometimes for a hundred years to replenish.
It is a waste
of time. Can you imagine burying yourself in the earth for such a long period?
Once upon a time, when there were no circles for protection, the
strigoi
discovered the art of rebirthing in human skin as a
disguise to avoid persecution. In recent centuries, before my rule, this art
was not used or taught within our coven; the
strigoi
purposely left ignorant of such knowledge.

‘To
live forever young, a
strigoi
must find a new body or
choose to sleep and replenish. I have taken away the choice. You see
,
it is better for the circle if we continue to remain in
young bodies. Youth is the key; youth is power. I am surer of that than ever.
The younger the host human the slower the ageing process, and the stronger we
remain as a coven. This circle is your destiny too,
Marek
.’

‘I
can barely comprehend what you are saying. You have no soul. That much is
obvious. You not only use humans for food, you kill them for their skin.’

‘We
do not kill the humans we just transfer their own souls so they will live in
other forms.’

A
phantom chill crept through me though; without a body such sensation was made
from memories only. There were flashbacks again of blood. She made it sound so
easy yet there was much pain… much pain.

‘But
why not swallow their souls like in every other kill?’

‘The
human must still be living when a
strigoi
enters
their body, and only then can the human soul be transferred to another carrier.
In some instances, the souls have been swapped between the two, but the risks
are high –
strigoi
bodies are quick to go cold.
For the transfer to be successful, the human soul must survive and remain
earthbound for a period, sometimes days, until all trace of its soul has left
its body. It is complicated and delicate.

‘There
have been various practices over the centuries. Souls would be transferred to
animals, or older humans who were close to death. And sometimes to the insane,
their tongues cut out; to become demented creatures spurned by society. Some
thought it a safe way of making sure they were passing from this world to the
next. I have since thought of other ways to keep the souls for eternity on
earth, so that the transfer is infallible. I have corrected certain procedures.
Now, nothing can go wrong.’

Thumping
the table, ‘What you do is so wrong!’ he yelled. ‘This is worse than murder.
And if you stopped taking souls altogether?
Stopped bleeding
humans dry? If you stopped all this killing?’

‘Without
the blood and souls of humans, then you and I, Zola and Jean would eventually
become like those creatures in the basement. Creatures of the night rejected by
everyone, even our own kind. Wandering the earth and hiding in dark holes so
that we cannot be found, afraid of the light to expose us. And then when our
bodies break down and we sink into the earth, we just exist in a prism of
nothingness for eternity.

‘No,
Marek
.
I know what you’re thinking. You cannot go
back. We do not move from this world to the next. We are forever of the earth,
or we are no more. Some of the
strigoi
in our circle
are hundreds of years old. Wouldn’t you rather live for centuries with just the
price of changing bodies every so often? Survival is not murder.’

‘Oleander,
we were part of the same family. Now we aren’t. I am finished here.’

‘You
want to leave,
Marek
, then go. I won’t stop you, for
it is just a matter of time before you return.’

‘Celeste
and Zeke are coming with me.’

‘I
will not allow it. They belong to me now.’ Oleander’s voice changed. There was
a brittleness that I had never heard before. She was not used to even the hint
of loss, especially one such as
Marek
who would be
important to her circle.

‘You
could have ruled this coven with me. Now go! Leave here now, for there may be
others who won’t give you a second chance. But
Marek
,
the cravings will never go away. You will crave a soul like the rest of us.
Your body will eventually crumble.’

‘That’s
a risk I am prepared to take. You must convince Celeste to leave with me.’

‘Oh,
you fool! That’s not Celeste. She is a
strigoi
who is
seventy-years-old in human years; the same crone who visited you on the island,
and who I rewarded with a new form for her reaching you with my message. Your
Celeste is gone forever. You will never see her again. Her body was used in a
rebirthing.’

‘I
don’t believe you.’

‘You
should thank me really. Her stomach infection would have killed her if it
wasn’t for me.’

I
heard
Marek’s
thunderous steps on timber.

‘Do
not touch the boy! If you take him, he will die. That much I promise you. At
least by leaving him you guarantee his life.’

More
footsteps and a door slammed. I was alone with Oleander again.

‘Did
you hear that, Souls?’ asked Oleander. ‘Did you enjoy the show? Too bad you
have
no-one
to tell it to. Another of us is
unfortunately about to die.’

I
knew that there were others like me here too. If I had a body I would have
killed her at that moment. If I could cry I would have spilled tears also.
Marek
was gone from me, possibly for good. He would most
likely die somewhere in the forest at the hands of Oleander herself. I knew her
better than her own brother. I could not warn him and tell him of the
conversations Oleander and Jean shared. I also knew that
no-one
ever left here alive.

Oleander’s rules.
She knew about Irene. She was the one who planned the kill.

Marek

I ran to Celeste’s room. I touched
her shoulder and her eyes opened fully, staring.

‘What
do you want?’ It was an accusation.

‘We
must leave this place, Celeste. You are not safe.’

There
was sharp laugh. ‘I am not going anywhere. This is my home.’

‘But
Celeste…’

‘Get
out
Marek
!’ She said, vehemently, through gritted
teeth.

It
was distressing to see such a reaction. Could this Celeste have been swallowed
up by luxury and decadence? Could she have been too easily swayed? Or was this
someone else? In my heart I knew, yet I fought the truth.

‘Do
you not know what is happening here? You saw the
strigoi
in the basement…you saw the demons.’

‘Demons?’
She repeated, slightly amused. ‘You mean demons like you and me? They are our
kind,
Marek
.’

I
did not want to believe what she was saying. Perhaps the soul of my Celeste was
still trapped deep inside her own body. Maybe this was the other practice
Oleander referred to.

‘We
must find your mother.’

‘My mother?
You will probably have to travel to hell to see her.’

‘Celeste…’

‘
Marek
if you do not get out I will be forced to hurt you.’

I
grabbed her forcibly but was thrown back, repelled, not in the way of the
library encounter with Oleander, more like a rough push, since she was not as
strong.

She was
lost to me. Distressing though this was, I had no choice but to leave her, and
I could now sense that other
strigoi
were alerted;
their forces were hostile.

This
time I did not leave by the front door. Instinct told me that it was more
dangerous. I headed towards the galley to leave from the basement. As I passed
through, several human staff looked up. They appeared stunned, or caught
– this visit totally unexpected. It was several seconds before I
realised
what was on the table before them. The man from
the carriage I had spied on at the party was lying on the table. His arms hung
from the table, his wrists cut. Blood dripped from his wounds into bowls on the
floor beneath him. He was being blooded for the next feast. His eyes rolled
back into his head and he moaned. The smell of blood drew me near him. The
galley workers sensed it too. They were afraid that I might lose control and I
feared that too. I wanted to free this man from his pain but I was no better
than any other
strigoi
, and in no condition to help.
I was his enemy, unable to control the urge; his blood was too rich, too
inviting.

I
remembered the graveyard of carriages and wondered again at the many hundreds,
possibly thousands of people who had died here over the years, and how I came
to succumb to such evil.

I
ran through the basement door into the fresh night air and took my first real
breath for hours. I would find my morality once again.

Zola

I followed
Marek
.
I tricked the others, especially Jean, into thinking he was headed elsewhere.
It would work for a time but soon they would all know what I had done. It was a
huge risk and one that could see me imprisoned.

Oleander
had let her brother go and I wondered what her real plan was, as she did not
like to lose.

In
time,
Marek
might be stronger but Oleander had
mastered her craft better than anyone. I had seen her burn a disloyal circle
member with just an incline of her head, and heard about other executions for
even lesser
misdemeanours
.  I had also witnessed
her predecessor kill the
untameable
strigoi
who fed indiscriminately and would give us all
away.

Marek’s
breathing became
laboured
and he stopped to rest near
a brook, his face awash with anguish. It was distressing to see him like this
and it further inspired more tender emotions in me than I had ever felt before.
He had left a good life already, not like many of us who could not have
survived without the protection of the circle. He lifted his head suddenly
sensing me near. ‘Zola?’

I
stepped into the moonlight, which shone brightly through a break in the clouds,
illuminating the boulder where he sat. As I moved to sit beside him, there was
hesitation and mistrust on his part. When I touched his arm gently he tensed.

‘I
do not know who to trust.’

‘You
can trust me.’

‘No.
You are one of them.’

‘So
are you.’

‘You
murder for selfish benefit.’

‘It
is not murder,
Marek
. It is survival.’

‘I
do not believe you. I have seen what Jean is capable of. Why do you fawn on him
so?’

What
could I say of Jean? I could not admit to
Marek
that
I found Jean interesting and amusing. It would sound so careless. I knew he had
many indiscretions that even Oleander did not hear about. So I said nothing.
Yes, to humans we are monsters, but I was pleased and not ashamed that I at
least had been given a life that I would never have had without them both, and
I made no apology for this.

‘Tell
me, Zola. Who are you? For you are not as you appear.’