Page 46 of Fangs for the Memories
“You won’t get close to her,” I snarl. “Your threats are boring.” I stop moving, stop stalking, stop hunting. Instead I wait and listen. “I’ve heard them all before, and no one has ever taken what’s mine.”
Downstairs, the door slams, sending shockwaves through the building. Above me, I hear an ominous rumble.
This place is empty for a reason.
The weight of the snow on the roof is too much for the now delicate structure, weakened by decades of neglect and poor renovations.
This place is a trap.
The ceiling groans and bulges. I dodge to one side but put my foot through a rotten board, which costs me precious time.
Time I don’t have. More than enough time for the entire roof to come down.
The last thing I see is a deluge of white snow and a hundred years of dirt.
Grace
“Where is Ferenc?” I ask the driver as he opens the car door to a distinctly empty vehicle.
“He said to take you home,” the driver responds in broken English.
Given my Hungarian is terrible, it looks like I’m not going to get much more out of him, so I climb in, and he steers the vehicle into traffic, heading over the Chain Bridge to the Buda side. The car whisks us up through the castle district, which looks so pretty in all the snow, and back to the block which contains Ferenc’s apartment.
The doors swing open, and we glide into the courtyard, which has been cleared of snow, and pull up at the entrance.
The driver says nothing, his eyes flicking to me in the interior mirror and swiftly averting.
I open the door, an icy wind swirling around me, and hop out, swiftly making my way inside out of the cold.
The place seems deserted. There’s no sign of Viktor. I think about exploring, but there’s something a little eerie which makes me pull my coat closer around me.
Perhaps not this time. Perhaps it would be better when Ferenc is here.
Wherever he is.
I make my way up the swooping staircase to the first floor and into the living room area where we ate breakfast this morning. The table at the far end is empty and a strange light, reflecting from the snow outside, illuminates the room in blue. I cross to the window and look out over the Danube once again. Large lumps of ice have formed, cracking and reforming as the water flows.
As I watch, snow starts falling again. I feel cold even though the place is warm, and a shiver strolls up my spine.
With a sigh, thinking of the promises Ferenc made, and like all males, has broken, I head into the bedroom and climb into the freshly made bed.
There has to besomeonehere in Ferenc’s apartment if things like this are happening. Perhaps it’s their presence which gives me the feeling of not being alone, even if I have no idea where they are…and they’re not making a single sound.
Pulling the bedclothes around me, I watch the snow passing the window in a steady, silent flow. It’s mesmerizing as the light dims and the streetlights flicker on, illuminating the steady diagonal fall of the snow through their beams of light.
The city seems silent, the building seems silent.
Silent like a grave.
Then I hear it, a steady movement outside. Not the sound of feet but something else, somethingslithering. And the noise is getting closer.
I freeze. I want to run, but my body isn’t going to play. I know that monsters exist, we all do. At this very moment, it doesn’t make things any less scary.
The door handle turns. I wish I’d had the presence of mind to put something under the handle or bar the door, even if it’s unlikely to keep a vampire out, but it’s too late now. Instead I watch with creeping horror as the door swings open.
And Ferenc stumbles through, entirely naked, blood streaming down one side.
I’m out of the bed, stumbling over my dress, over the bedclothes, in order to get to him. Ferenc sees me, and his bloody hand slips from the wall, causing him to drop to his knees.
