Immortal in Camorra
In the distance the relentless missile rain scorched the earth as rebels fought their way closer to the capital in the dark. All he could see through the broken panoramic window on the second floor of Starbucks was the glowing trajectories that resembled the holiday fireworks the Ancient Regime would use to celebrate their endless number of flag days. Starbucks was no longer a coffee shop but, as foreign multinationals had evacuated all employees, but the owners of what was now an inn had no funds for redecorating and replacing the signs, so it remained a Starbucks Coffee Shop years past the exit.
On the table in front of Malakoff stood, therefore, a pint of beer, homebrewed and paid for by what little remained of his profit for today’s trade after having paid the bribes, the fees to the Union of Scavengers and the sustenance for his fiancée and her parents.
“There you are”, said Zigana.
As usual he had not noticed her arrival. Silently she slipped onto the chair in front of him and took his hand and pulled up his sleeve. The scars from their last meeting were still fresh. Greedily she pulled at her arm and lowered her face over it.
Malakoff stopped her:
“Wait”.
“What is wrong?” she said, reluctantly keeping her teeth from the skin. Had he been a moment too late, it would have already been impossible to stop her.
“When are you going to turn me?”
“When the time is up”, she replied. “The Council still has not made a verdict on you.”
“The Council…” he repeated, contemptuously.
“We have to respect The Council”, she said, still toying with his hand. “They maintain The Balance. If it was not for The Council we would have rogue immortals running about all over the place. Even as it is, there are rumours that government forces have noticed unexplainable deaths in their ranks and called in slayers from The Holy Catholic Church of Camorra. If those rumours are true, it will become quite risky to be an immortal.”
She put her lips to his wrist, and he let her drink. Then, just before he began to grow dizzy, she let go. The puncture wounds miraculously healed before his eyes. Zigana smiled and wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand.
“I love you”, she said.
“I love you”, said Malakoff. “I just wish you would move along with the procedure, whatever it is. I feel so weak I have a hard time working, and my blood is burning in my veins, and I can think of nothing but you, even when I am with her.”
Zigana nodded knowingly.
“Yes, there is also her. What about sweet Mary? Have you thought about that?”
“What about her?”
“How do you think she will feel about marrying an immortal?”
“Marrying”, he said. “I don’t even know if that is on the table, as things are these days. Politics have us sort of limited in our options. But no, I do not think she will be thrilled to learn that I have become a vampire. But what choice do I have?”
“You have a choice. That is very important for you to remember. I know you feel the burning in your bones right now, and there is nothing as precious to you as the prospect of being turned. But it is still your choice.”
“Sure”, Malakoff said. “Except that the rebel forces will be close enough to shell Arusa by next week, and the government forces will fold. The factions will begin to fight it out among themselves to find out who gets the run of the place. Meanwhile Peacekeepers will invade from the North, and little people will become prey for mercenaries, rebel warlords or rogues. Already the bribes and the tariffs for the Union of Scavengers are so high that I hardly make any money, and every two-bit lowlife is trying to cut in on my turf – or cut my throat. If it was not for your protection, I would already be dead, I am sure…”
“And if it was not for your blood, I would be in a terrible shape too”, Zigana confessed.
“Look at me, Zigana: I am a bachelor of history and literature, but I have to work as a Scavenger, dealing with artefacts plundered from victims of war. My entire family is gone. I could have sold some of their belongings without even knowing it. When the rebels take over, things get even worse. I will probably be executed as a collaborator with the Ancient Regime, and Maria will be forced to sell her body to the new class of rulers. The way I see it the safest place in either case is to be an immortal.”
“Moving only at night, unable to ever watch the dawn, preying on the innocent…” she mumbled.
“What do you think I am doing right now, Zigana? What do you think anybody is doing in this cursed city? How do you think people survive?”
“Poor you”, she said and pulled something out of a pocket in her cape. She handed him an apple that appeared strangely fresh and colourful and glistening with vitality in the midst of the dusty depression that covered the entire city as physical if invisible cloud of filth.
“Thank you”.
“You need it”, she said. “I take a lot of strength from you.”
He sank his teeth into the moist fruit. It tasted sweet, and for a moment he forgot the other hunger and the untameable burning in his blood for the transformation she withheld from him.
“So, this is when I leave you again”, said Zigana. “Dawn soon...”
“I know”, he said.
She stopped in front of the metal staircase railing.
“By the way, Lord Szabolcs has agreed to see you”, she said.
“You asked him?”
“Come to our house tomorrow evening, after dusk”, Zigana continued. “It is the old castle on the hill by the Eastern road, when you leave the city.”
“Is this the test?”
“I cannot guarantee anything”, she said. “But Szabolcs has the final word. Whatever he says, The Council will have to approve.”
“A formal interview…” Malakoff said.
“You may call it that. We call it dinner. But don’t worry. We will serve something that is fitting for your human appetites… and try not to repulse you too much with our own. Of course, it will not be wine in our glasses…”
“I understand”.
“And you are sure you are up for it?”
“Of course”, said Malakoff. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
***
Armed with a stake in case he should run into rogues Malakoff sneaked through the almost empty city of Arusa. The old tradition of carving faces and figurines of mystical creatures into the houses put an additional strain on his senses, even if he was used to the gothic architecture; the elaborate decorations created the illusion of being watched and a very unpleasant uncertainty about whether or not it was the case.
As Malakoff caught view of the old castle on Sevastopol Road a shadow emerged in front of him, creeping slowly along the side of the overgrown path that led to the top of the hill. It turned into a black cat in front of him. He figured it was Zigana in another shape and followed it, somewhat calmer as her presence meant he was safe. Perhaps she had been watching over him all along.
Then she stood in front of him, wearing black boots and the red cape that covered her frivolous 17th Century corsage. She smiled.
“You made it. Come, this way. Everything is ready…”
Malakoff followed her all the way up to the old castle that looked even tinier as they came closer. He wondered what kind of aristocrat would build a mansion shaped like a medieval European castle.
“It has been the property of the family for ages”, Zigana said.
He nodded. She always read his mind.
“There is nothing to fear for”, she added. “I can almost guarantee you that you are not going to end up dinner. That is, of course, if you manage not to say something stupid.”
She was joking, but he felt a jolt of anxiety. After all, she was the only immortal he had ever encountered.
The heavy doors opened by themselves, as they approached. They stepped into a foyer lighted by large candlesticks and torches sticking out of the walls.
“I love what you have done to this place”, he said.
“Sarcasm”, she said. “You better watch out. Szabolcs is not a big fan of it.”
Malakoff nodded.
Through a door at the end of the foyer he could see a dining hall with a large table set up for a banquet. A long, thin shadow fell from the room, and above it a towering figure moved towards them.
“Welcome to our humble abode”, said the Immortal coolly.
“Thank you for inviting me”, said Malakoff. “I am sorry I haven’t brought a gift. The city is running low on supplies, and I also had trouble figuring out… What do you give someone who has everlasting life?”
“You brought yourself”, said Zigana with one of those rare and surprising expressions of warmth that she was capable of.
The couple led him into the dining room and seated him by one end of the table. Szabolcs sat at the other end, which seemed to be an eternity away, and Zigana sat leaning against Szabolcs’s shoulder, carelessly picking grapes from a vine with her teeth.
In front of him was a plate with a slice of red meat, some vegetables and sauce. The content of the crystal glass resembled red wine, but one could never be sure. Their own plates were empty. Malakoff did not trust the diet. Szabolcs noticed his reluctance and politely asked:
“Are you not hungry?”
“I thought we might get right to the issue”, said Malakoff.
“Yes… You desire The Turning,” said Szabolcs.
“Yes. That is why I am here.”
“And you want Zigana to be the one who performs it”, said Szabolcs.
“Yes”.
“You want to become a part of our family, to be accepted by The Council and… to accept that Zigana becomes your Mistress.”
“All of that”, said Malakoff.
“Well, I do not see a problem with that”, said Szabolcs. “Of course, there is a price to be paid.”
“Zigana has informed me”, said Malakoff.
“Oh, I am not sure you understand. One thing is the sacrifice any mortal must make to acquire our superior lifestyle. Another is the proof of your devotion that I require in order to recommend you. I would have to know you are trustworthy.”
“What do you demand of me?”
“As you know, things have been deteriorating even in the ranks of the Immortals. As if all these humans fighting among themselves are not enough, we see a growing number of Rogues roaming about in the city. I don’t know for sure how the breach occurred, but now there are gangs of these idiots, and they turn more and more humans, trying to stack some kind of faction of their own. They hang out in No Man’s Land, where they feed on war casualties. We – meaning The Order – and particularly the members of the Council of Vampires have recently issued a general ban on turnings for the same reason. We kill what we must to survive, but we will not foster new Immortals. Every increase in numbers also increases the risk of both government forces and rebels to become wary of our presence. Already The Balance has been upset with both sides recruiting Slayers to counter the onslaught on their troops. So, you are asking quite a lot, my friend. This is not like the old days, when any Immortal could establish a following as they pleased. Unsanctioned turnings are punishable by death these days.”
Malakoff smiled.
“You smile?”
“It is just that the whole country of Camorra is crumbling, and every single soul in the city has more dead relatives than live ones. Personally I have lost every single member of my family to the war. And yet… never have I heard more talk of “death” as when I ran into you Immortals.”
Szabolcs frowned. Zigana sent Malakoff a warning stare, but he continued unaffected:
“Perhaps life becomes infinitely more important to you, when you have infinite amounts of it? For us humans the average mortality rate is so high it does not make sense for us to worry.”
“Are you really as hardboiled and fearless as you try to sound?”
Szabolcs locked onto his eyes with his own cold piercing stare, and Malakoff could feel them searching the depth of his soul for weakness or doubt.
“I came here, didn’t I?”