The Snow Vampire (5 page)

D
INNER
was a silent affair. Even the generally enforced civility any angry family feigns—a strained “Please pass the salt,” or a forced compliment on the quality of the meal—were absent. The only true presence was Uncle Sandor’s rancor as he grabbed angrily at the coarse honey-and-ale bread and shoveled down Mamma’s
goulash
stew. I was surprised such simple fare as
goulash
elicited no comment from Kateryna, but I supposed even she knew enough to keep silent when her father raged this way.

Hendrik was absent. Whether he left on his own accord or had been sent away, I did not know. He did not return by the time dinner ended, nor by the time, shortly thereafter, Poppa hustled me and Alona to bed. I waited up as long as I could, huddled onto the side of the bed that faced my door, waiting for it to slowly open, waiting for Hendrik to appear. I wanted to be awake for him, to comfort him, to reassure him. But the day’s ministrations and the evening’s tension had utterly worn me out, and soon, despite my best efforts, I drifted off to sleep.

I woke the next morning to discover that the rest of my bed was still empty and the entirety of the household was awash with tension and the buzzing news that Hendrik still had not returned. Men had been dispatched to hastily roust him out, but he had not been found. Now a wider search was being organized. At the moment, all they knew was that Hendrik was not at the inn or the common house, so neither his father nor my own had any idea where else he would go. But I knew. Dressing quietly, I stole into the kitchen and took some bread before slipping out of the house and beginning the long trek back up the mountain.

Hendrik was there, in the monastery courtyard. There was a purple bruise over one eye and a long scratch on his cheek from one of Uncle Sandor’s rings. I sat down next to him and handed him the bread. He took it wordlessly, without thanks. For many minutes we sat there, saying nothing, him devouring the bread rapidly and me trying to imagine what I could do to make this all better. But I could think of nothing.

“I’m sorry,” I finally told him, putting my arm over his shoulder. It was all I could think to say, an apology perhaps more for my inability to comfort him than for anything Uncle Sandor had done. But it was enough. Hendrik buried his face into the crook of my neck and softly wept, wrapping his arms around my waist, clinging possessively, needily. His brow was pressed against the side of my head; his hair fell across my cheek. His runny nose sniveled in my ear, and his lips pressed against my neck. It was perhaps a moment or two before I realized that he was, in fact, kissing my neck, gentle kisses so soft that I barely felt them. I was surprised. I moved my head an inch. He pulled his face away from mine. With one hand I braced myself against the cool blades of grass. The other I used to do what I had wanted for so long. I brushed the stray hairs from Hendrik’s face and looked deep into his eyes. They were virid pools, still and bottomless.

And then he kissed me.

Moments passed swiftly from there, moments that are forever etched into my mind—but just moments, as if I can only recall glimpses of the afternoon so long ago. The texture of Hendrik’s lips and the taste of the honey and beer from the coarse bread my mother had made; the firmness of his nakedness, the sharp corners of his body; the tight coils of dark hair under his arms, and the trail that led down his stomach and past the waistband of his pants. Hendrik took the lead in our lovemaking, showing me what to do. It was he who brought my lips to his first, and he who took hold of my prick and directed it between his legs. I remember the sound Hendrik made, a gasp, an acute inhalation of air that suggested both pleasure and pain. Not a word passed between us, though many, unsaid, were felt. Afterward, we lay together on the cool grass, desperate to cling to each other’s forms, desperate to never be separated again.

“There was a man,” he finally spoke, the first words he said to me since yesterday, “in Budapest. He was—is still, I am sure—a dancer in the national ballet company. Andros. That was his name. Just a member of the corps, still starting out. We—he and I—we were intimate this way.” Hendrik paused here. His voice took on a rich sound of remembrance. “We exchanged letters. It was foolish, perhaps, but we were ardent and in the throes of a great affair.” He voice rang with a hollow irony, and he struggled to maintain his composure. “Father found out. You can imagine his response.” With this, Hendrik gingerly touched his eye. I found myself stroking the alabaster of the skin next to it, hoping that my touch would soothe his pain. He continued. “He forbade me to ever see him again. But I defied him. And Father went to him, to my lover, and threatened him with violence, and then paid him off. And I never saw him again.” Hendrik paused and slid around to face me. “Father has hated me ever since. And I have hated myself too. It was easier that way, to see myself through Father’s eyes. But now….” He broke off, gazing into my eyes, touching his forehead to mine. “Now I wish only to see myself through yours.”

“Was it like this—with you and he—with the other man?” I asked. It was an absurd question and surely none of my business, but for some reason, I felt I had to know.

“No, oh no, dear one,” Hendrik replied. He put one hand on either side of my head and kissed me again, his lips both hard and soft all at once. “No, Ferenc. I did not love him as I—as I love you.”

“I love you, too, Hendrik,” I whispered. And I meant it. If I knew nothing else, I knew that I surely meant those words. I held him close to me. His flesh was soothing and cool to my touch. How I longed to never let go!

The ardor of the moment overcame us again. Down we tumbled, our arms entwined, the cool earth a cushion for our love. Again Hendrik directed me, grasping my prick in his hands and guiding it between his legs. This time I was not as lost in the moment of happiness, so I had time to study the sensations of the love Hendrik and I were sharing. I was surprised at the ease in which I entered him; it made me feel as if we were meant to be together, as if our bodies were part of some grand design, one fashioned for the other. The first thrust was unsure—this was still all new to me—but soon I had built a steady rhythm. I watched Hendrik’s face for my cues as I entered him. Any gasp of pain meant to slow down, to ease off; the inevitable moans of pleasure meant to continue, to progress. I realized, as our rhythm built to its inevitable, happy climax, that this was what it meant to be a lover. As I slid in and out of Hendrik, steadily increasing the speed and force of my thrusting, I looked down upon this man I loved and felt an overwhelming sense of responsibility. For his pleasure, yes, and for his love, but also just as much for him alone. I felt protective, impetuous but forceful. Hendrik was mine, and I now his; it was as I dreamed it would be. I bent, kissing Hendrik hard, squashing his lips to mine. Hendrik wrapped his arms around my neck. His lips covered my face, his hand a blur in his own lap. We said not a word, since no words needed to be spoken to share the emotion, the intensity of feeling, that passed between us. I felt the newly familiar sensation of our love swelling inside me; grunting, I thrust my hot mouth on Hendrik’s ear.

“I love you, beautiful boy,” I whispered as I spilled my seed into Hendrik again.

“And I love you, brave Ferenc,” he replied as his own seed spilled into the space between our two straining bodies. For a moment, we stayed connected this way, gasping, spent and delirious with joy; then succumbing to the unfamiliar strain on my muscles, I collapsed beside him with a happy laugh.

“Let us run away together,” I said. It was an impetuous fancy, but it was what I felt in that moment. Oh, how many times over the years have I wished he’d heeded my request!

But Hendrik only laughed. He slid his arms around my waist, one hand gently cupping my arse, his lips nestling contentedly on the nape of my neck. “No, dear one, we cannot do that. Where would we go? What would we live on?”

“I don’t know. I don’t care,” I said. I spoke with the fervor of an innocent and the naiveté of the young. “As long as I am with you, what else do I need?”

Hendrik tousled my hair and, still laughing, now wrapped his thin arms around my neck. “Food. Shelter. Clothing.”

“No clothing. Not if I am with you,” I interjected, staring lasciviously at his body and enjoying the crimson blush that spread across his cheeks.

“We couldn’t spend all our days naked. Tempting as the idea is,” he said, returning my stare with a look of his own and, for good measure, a firm squeeze of my prick with his hand. “No, my beautiful boy, this is the way it must be.”

“I don’t care,” I said. “As long as I am yours, I don’t care about anything else in the world.” I stopped. “I am yours, aren’t I, Hendrik?” I asked.

Hendrik gave me a quick kiss on my nose and, for good measure, a longer one on my lips. “Yes, you are mine,” he said, sliding even closer to me, “as I am yours, if you will have me.” He kissed me again, a kiss with more intent, and I felt myself relax, dissolving happily into his embrace.

“But what will we do when you leave?” I asked, suddenly fearful. “We must think of some way I can go with you back to Budapest.”

Hendrik’s laugh was rueful this time. “I do not know how we could manage that, dear one.”

I was surprised by his reluctance, and hurt. “Don’t you want me to come back with you?”

“Of course I do,” he said. “But you must be practical, Ferenc. How would we accomplish this? And even if we could, my father would be instantly suspicious. No, hush, dearest,” he added before I could protest further, “this is the way it has to be, at least for now.”

“But someday, someday we can be together? Like this, always?”

“Perhaps. I would like that very much—yes, I would!” Hendrik added before I could interject with another hurt reaction. “You must understand, dear one, the way the world is to people who love as we do. Besides, right now your place is here, at your father’s side.”

I shook my head. “My father has no need of me,” I said. “Not as I have need of you.” I bent my head to Hendrik’s chest and bit at his nipple playfully. He laughed, pushed my mouth to his, and kissed me deeply.

“You are wrong, dearest,” he said. “Your father will soon have great need of you. The mine is failing. Many changes will need to be made if your business is to stay alive.”

“Failing?” I asked. “What are you talking about?”

Hendrik searched my face with his eyes. “Do you really not know?” he asked. “The mine is drying up. There is barely any tin left. In order to search deeper, your father must purchase new equipment, new machines that will allow his workers to dig farther and faster than ever before.”

“Then he will buy them,” I said with a simple shrug.

But Hendrik only shook his head. “With what capital? Do you really not know? Your father has lost much money on his mine. He can barely pay his workers as is.”

“Then what will become of us?” I asked, suddenly fearful for my parents, for Alona, for Grandmamma.

“Fortunately,” Hendrik said grimly, “opportunity has arisen just in the nick of time.”

“What opportunity?” I asked quizzically.

Hendrik searched my face with his eyes. “What a naïve child you are!” he laughed. “Do you truly not understand? Then again, you do not know the world as I. How could you, tucked away up here in this cozy little corner of time and space?”

Suddenly, I was angry. “I am not naïve,” I said, sitting up and turning my back to Hendrik. Why was he acting this way?

Hendrik sat up and moved his body in behind mine. He wrapped his arms around my waist and pushed his face deep into my neck. “Yes, you are,” he said, his breath a warm, enticing breeze on my skin. “And I love you for it. More than you will ever know. My dear, sweet, beautiful Ferenc. So innocent, so uncorrupted by everything. You know nothing of how the world works, and I marvel at you for it.” I softened in his arms at his words. I wanted to cry, though I could not articulate exactly why. But I swallowed my sobs as best I could, allowing only a few small tears to trickle down my cheeks. “Ferenc, look at me,” Hendrik said. “This is how it is for men like us. We are lucky. We have found each other so young. We will have a lifetime of this. Of stolen moments. Of secrets and love. It may not be what our hearts truly desire, but it is the only way. We will both grow up. Take careers. Get married. But through it all, we will have each other.”

“I don’t want to grow up,” I said stubbornly. “Or take a career. Or wed anyone. Except you,” I said. I realized as I said it how ridiculous I sounded, but it didn’t matter. It was how I felt.

I expected Hendrik to laugh, but he only held me closer. “I know, dear one,” he whispered. “I feel the same way as you. But it cannot be. Our lives will continually work to pull us apart. We may go a long time—weeks, months, perhaps even years—without seeing one another. But we will always know how we truly feel, in our heads and in our hearts.”

“And you will always love me?” I asked.

“Always, dear Ferenc.”

“Then marry me now,” I said impetuously.

“What?” Hendrik half-laughed.

“I am serious. Here. Right here. In this place that used to be holy, that used to be consecrated to God. Pledge to love me eternally, and I will do the same. Pledge to honor me, and put me first in your heart, and to think on me first thing every morning and last every night and I….” I trailed off. “And then, whatever else may happen, it will be tolerable, as long as we have… as long as I know.”

Hendrik took my hands in his. “Rise,” he said. As we stood I suddenly felt foolish, standing there in this place, naked as the day I was born. But I was with Hendrik, and that was all that mattered. “I, Hendrik Varga, do pledge my heart and being to you, Ferenc Tichy, here in this place that was once holy—though, apparently, is now the realm of the devil….”

“Hendrik,” I intoned.

“Sorry, my love,” he said, giving me an impish wink. “I pledge to forever love and honor you, my beautiful boy, to put you above all others in my heart, to remember you first and last in every waking day, and to truly love no other person than you.” As he spoke, his voice changed, and the joke of his action had become something quite earnest and quite serious indeed. “Now, do you pledge the same, dear one?”