And, me? There was no way I could go home and face my parents. I didn’t know if I would ever be the same again, so I ran with them. We figured it was a new beginning, and we made a pact to stick together.”
“Why did your friend leave you, the way he did?”
“I don’t fully know. He was living with his mother and step father who were extremely strict, I remember. He says he didn’t know how I’d react to being a vampire, but I think there was more that he wasn’t telling me; in fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d turned me against Levi’s wishes.”
“Levi? How did he know Levi?”
“His father worked for him, up in Boston.”
“I’m glad he’s dead. I never liked that meddling vampire,” she sighed. “At least you made it, and, at least, you have friends.”
“Yeah, but they turned on me, not more than six months later.”
She stopped and looked Starr in the eyes, “They do not understand you, Starr. Sometimes people fear what they do not understand, and especially when that, which they do not understand, is powerful, like you. You are a special, special, person, Starr; that is why Louisa Credenza wants you. You are wise, ethical, philosophical, but you are strong, too. You are the kind of leader we need. The only problem is you don’t know what you stand for, at the moment.”
As Starr followed Madam Balaji, she thought to herself that she just wanted to be left alone.
“I think it is too late for you, Starr. You are involved, whether you like it or not.”
Starr knew she was right.
“We, here, at Castel de Negru have our own order: The Order of Negru. We believe in Live and Let Live. What you do is not our business, as long as you remain inconspicuous. We would not force you to do what you don’t want. You can make your own fledglings, and not have to answer to the likes of Levi. Honestly, Starr, if anyone should have died, or been punished, it was him. He’s been butting into other people’s business for years; it’s no loss that he’s dead.”
“The Council put him in Boston to watch over the American vampires, didn’t they?”
“I’m not sure. You see, when I first turned, it was by a Council member. We’d fallen in love, but he betrayed me when he destroyed someone else, someone that I loved too, my fledgling. That was back in the early seventies and, since then, I have not set foot in The Council, and I do not keep up with their events.”
“Yes, I had the same thing happen to me, in Boston. That is what Levi and I fought about: he tried to kill my fledgling. I wound up killing him anyway, though.”
“Starr, that is different,” she said angrily. “He was just some boy; you hardly knew him. My fledgling was my daughter.”
“I – I’m sorry,” Starr stuttered, and looked away.
Thinking more on Madam Balaji’s words, she asked, “Is that all the Order of Black Stands for? Live and let live principle?”
“Exactly. If you want to hunt humans, then so be it; if you want to make young fledglings, then so be it; anything you want, just as long as you do not give yourself a way.”
Starr thought it made sense. She thought she might like to stand up for the Order of Negru.
“Do you know where The Council is? Can you tell me?”
“No,” she said strongly, “it is not wise to go there, Starr. They have many guards, and they are strong. They will destroy you.”
“Still, I want to see them for myself. I need to know what I’m up against, for when Credenza comes for me.”
“The Council is located a hundred miles east of here, over that mountain,” she motioned to the mountain she’d seen from the back of the Castel de Negru. No one, but us, knows it is there, for they have built their castle in a valley that is snuggled in between mountains, almost like it was built in a bowl. Your best bet is to rent an off road jeep, a horse, fly if you can, or go on foot. You will go over the mountain and, from there, you will hear them. Follow the voices in your head, but you must stay until the end of the week!” she said with a smile.
When they’d finished their tour of the garden, they returned to the castle where Fernand kissed her three times, on the cheek.
They sat down to a light lunch of avocado sandwiches and café latte on the back patio, next to the pyre.
Fernand was chipper as usual, and he chattered nonstop.
After, they walked back to the cement path but, instead of going straight, they turned right.
Fernand perched her hand on his, holding it outward, in old fashion, as they walked along.
They walked a number of yards until another cement path veered them slightly left, toward a hill that, from which, Starr could smell water.
Eventually, they reached the 200 steps that took them up the hill, leading them to the basin. It would have taken a normal human thirty minutes to an hour to complete such a phenomenal amount of steps, but they made it to the top in five.
They stepped off onto a landing. A chain link fence encircled the entire basin.
Madam Balaji pulled another key from her pocket and unlatched the chain link gate.
Inside, the water basin was the size of a professional swimming pool, and appeared to be just as deep. The water was crystal clear, and she could see all the way down to the bottom. Below them, a motor hummed loudly and vibrated.
The water shot large bubbles outward, in four corners.
“That’s the irrigation system cleaning the incoming,” she pointed to a large hose poking out of the mountain.
“This reservoir keeps everyone up to about 5,000 square miles of us,” said Fernand who stayed annoyingly close to her.
They walked down the steps, back onto the path, and headed back, but, instead of going right, toward the castle, they made another left.
For another mile, they walked until what appeared to be, a large forest, in the distance, came into view.
Two minutes later, Starr realized realized that Madam Balaji was taking them to the labyrinth.
They made it to the wall: The trees lined a thick, ten foot high, stone wall.
Approaching a wood door, Madam Balaji, once again, pulled a key from her pocket.
Inside, it was twenty degrees cooler, under the shade of all the trees.
As she looked around, Starr got an eerie feeling that made her ears ring, sort of like when she was on the tour bus.
She rubbed her ears with her hands, trying to get them to stop.
People had died there, many people, she suddenly thought. Brutal, blood, was all she thought, terror, came to mind, too.
It was almost like a past premonition was trying to come into Starr’s mind, but it wasn’t quite making it.
Strange, really, because Starr had never been able to sense death before; her powers had grown so much, since she arrived in Romania.
Madam Balaji and Fernand both looked at Starr, then at each other with knowing eyes.
Starr wanted to ask what had happened there, but then decided it was better not to.
“This way,” said Madam Balaji.
They walked left, into a gravel clearing where tables and chairs sat out under the shade of enormous trees. To the side, she noticed a set of wooden steps that led up into a set of stands that were about 12 feet off the ground.
To her right was the entrance to the maze.
“Come on,” said Balaji. Starr must have looked apprehensive because she said, “do not worry. I know it by heart!” she smiled, holding out her elbow, beckoning Starr to her.
“Go on, Starr,” Fernand urged her. “You do not trust us, after all this time?”
Reluctantly, she followed them into the maze.
It didn’t take long for Starr to get, even more, spooked. For one thing, every stretch of the maze looked exactly the same and smelled the same: she literally had no clue where they were from one turn to the next. Each shrub, each tree, each pot or sculpture, and stone bench was in exactly the same spot as the next turn. If Madam Balaji left, she and Fernand could be stuck there for a long t
ime.
When they made it through, an hour later, Starr was beyond relieved.
They agreed to go back to the castle and rest up before dinner, but, instead of rest, she sought out Bulgari who was in the castle library.
He must have sensed her coming because he said, “Hello, Starr,” just as she walked in.
Bulgari was sitting in a cushioned chocolate leather chair, cigarette in hand and legs crossed. His eyes moving fast, left to right, over and over.
“Can I help you?” he exhaled a long stream of smoke.
She sat on the chair opposite him.
“Last night you mentioned…”
“That you could block out mental intrusion,” he interrupted.
“Yes, and I…”
“Wanted to know if I could help you.”
She was getting really annoyed.
“It is good that you come to me because you are like an open book, and that is not good. It will lead to your demise, trust me. Letting people into your head is as bad as passing out your bank account numbers to friends,” he paused, taking another inhale.
“What you want to do,” he said, switching his W’s for V’s, again, “is clear your mind, even when people are telling you things, you can absorb information without giving your thoughts away, and even when you are talking.”
“How? I don’t get it.”
“Well, I don’t know. It’s not the same for everyone. For me, what works is imagining a bright light in a tunnel. In my mind, I wonder what is inside, but I never go in, I just stare and wonder. When people try to read my mind, they only see the lighted tunnel. I focus on it while I talk and as I listen. Try it.”
Starr closed her eyes.
“Open your eyes. What? You gonna talk with your eyes closed, Da? Yes? No, no no,” he waived his cigarette at her.
She looked at his cigarette and imagined the tunnel, but as she told herself to clear her mind, all her thoughts came flooding to her. It was like telling a person not to smile at a camera, or not to think about elephants.
“Stop,” said Levi. “I’m getting a bunch of jumbled images from you. Take a deep breath, relax your shoulders,” he motioned with his hands, “try to imagine a blank slate. On that slate, it is nothing, there is nothing and think nothing. Go ahead, try again.”
Starr looked at Bulgari and imagined a blank wall, it was white, but she found white distracting, so then it was black.
“Okay, that is good, yes,” he took another drag. “I still got some images, some thoughts, but they were faint. Now, what you must do is practice that every time you talk to someone, or they talk to you.”
Starr and Bulgari tried it again, but with Bulgari rambling on about how he liked his blood thin and not thick, and his brains seared and not grilled or baked, it was hard for her to concentrate.
For a bit, she managed to keep her concentration on the blank slate, but even as he rambled on about bloody lamb chops, he still caught her thought about Fernand being too touchy feely, how she couldn’t stand all the kisses he gave her.
Starr was especially embarrassed when he saw her trying to suss out the scream, from the other night; essentially mental snooping, but he didn’t seem to care.
“It’s just a perfect example of how open you really are. If you closed your mind, they would not have known you were there… Well, actually, that’s not entirely true; they would have felt your presence, but it would have taken a bit longer to know someone was there, but they never,” he waived his finger with the cigarette again, “would have known it was you who snooped.”
After a few more practices, she got tired. She thanked him and returned to her room.
On her bed, she found her leather pants and vest from the prior night: they’d been cleaned.
She reached for the phone in her bag and turned it on. Immediately, it started beeping because she’d received rash of text messages from Marla and Mica.
“Marla: Are you okay? You were supposed to check in with us.
Mica: Lily’s asking about you. Can you call us, when you get a chance?”
A couple times, she tried to call but there wasn’t good reception within the stone walls of the castle.
Finally, she just sent them a message back, telling them not to worry.
An hour later, there was a knock at the door.
“Come in,” she called.
“Hello, Starr,” said Nina, as she walked through the door. “Madam Balaji sent me to deliver these things.”
Nina walked over to the bed and set down a neatly folded stack of clothing with a dark mesh-looking thing on top.
“For dinner,” she motioned her other arm, emphasizing the red dress and matching shoes.
“Dinner is served, every night, at 7:30 p.m., and it is, now, 7,” she said with a smile.
Nina turned around and left.
Starr picked up the dark mesh and realized that it was a fencing mask. Beneath it, lay a jacket and pants that were made with a thick white cotton that looked, somewhat, like it was made from the sail of a boat. And beneath the “knickers,” as what was written on the tag, there were a pair of the goofiest looking white cotton shoes she’d ever seen.
If it weren’t for the fact that fencing was a highly skilled, highly dangerous, sport, Starr would have chucked the lot.
She stood up and held out the red dress, in front of the mirror.
Hoping that Fernand wouldn’t be there, she hurried down to dinner.
She was instantly disappointed, for he had not gone home, and was the first to greet her in the hall where he and the other inhabitants were taking aperitifs.
“I love the way your black hair shines against this beautiful red; it makes me hungry,” he laughed.
Starr tried to duck his hands, but he wrangled her like a rope around a bull and kissed her.
“Here,” he pushed a glass into her hand. “Have an Americano, after all, you’re Americano, no?”
Starr took a sip and nearly gagged on the bitter.
“What?” he looked surprised. “You do not like?”
“Here,” said Bulgari, smoke streaming from his mouth. He took the Americano and gave her a wine spritzer.
“Thank you,” she said appreciatively.
Madam Balaji and Adam were seated on the couch, on the opposite side of the room, snacking on appetizers. He was whispering, ferociously, into her ear, and she was giggling.
Fernand drug Starr over to Mitch, who sat on the couch.
Mitch set down his drink, stood, and gave a light bow.
“Good evening, Starr,” he said politely.
Bulgari sat on the chair and stared into the fire.
“Try this, chicken brains,” he bent over and scooped, with the little spoon, some of the pinkish meat onto the little slice of bread.
Starr accepted, gratefully; it was delicious.
Fernand asked Starr many inane questions as Mitch and Bulgari chatted over them in some language that Starr didn’t know.
Five minutes later, Nina told them dinner was ready to be served.
Fernand stood, held out his hand for Starr to take, and led her into the dining room, followed by Madam and the rest.
As Fernand pulled out a chair for Starr, she heard the noise, from the prior night, again. This time, it was much clearer; someone was screaming; that person was afraid.
She paused and looked at Fernand, questioningly.
“Don’t fret, Dear,” said Fernand. “It was nothing.”
“It didn’t sound like nothing. What was that?”
“That is none of your business, Starr,” said Madam Balaji. “However, if we come to trust you, in time, you will know. For now, just ignore it.”
Rather than press the matter, Starr decided to drop it. She was there for The Council, and any other problems were not hers.
Dinner was just as delicious as the night before. Fernand dominated most of the conversation with loud boisterous commentary.
After, they t
ook brandy, again, in the Great Hall with chocolate sponge cake that was, literally, soaked in chicken blood after it was baked.
If Starr hadn’t been dining on blood and organs, the last two days, she was sure she would have turned, just like she did on the tour bus, for it was the most delicious blend of chocolate and blood that she’d ever eaten.
She wasn’t the only one who enjoyed it, for she looked next to her and saw that Mitch’s demon had shown its self: his fangs were extended and his eyes were wildly alight.
That night, as she lay in bed, texting Marla, she heard it again. She was in the middle of telling her more about Madam Balaji and the others when there was a distant sound of a high pitched scream.
From where she lay, she heard a woman pleading for her release, but then her sounds were muffled by the closing of a barrier, likely a door.
Starr clicked send and sat up in her bed. Focusing on the dark blank slate she’d conceptualized earlier, she found the source of the screams, once more, in the south end.
Not wanting to linger there, in case her consciousness was pushed out again, she slipped into the dressing gown Nina brought her, and into the matching rubber soled slippers.
Quietly and quickly as she could, she slipped through her door, down the hall, and down the steps. Mentally, she scanned the paths ahead to make sure no one was there for her to meet along the way.
She made it down the two flights of steps, past the tiny kitchen, and almost continued into the Great Hall when she realized she’d gone too far.
The scream came again, followed by shouting.
Starr retraced her steps, and stopped right at the kitchen stone archway.
Catching a scent, she realized that someone had just walked through there.
Concentrating on the blank slate, she walked through the archway.