Page 34 of Besieger
All the while, there was this intrusive sensation of sand.
Sand? Why sand, of all things?
When it snowed and the temperatures dropped below freezing, workers from the municipality would scatter a mixture of sand and salt to prevent slipping. She always noticed it because the salt clung to the leather of her shoes and ruined it. The sand had never bothered her before. Instead of salt coating her, it had been the sand that followed her around. The street grit had penetrated her thoughts today for an unknown reason. It was as if a cruel fae was insistently crunching grains beside her ears, coaxing her to remember.
Can Emerick and Silvio hear it too?
She opened her mouth to ask when the first explosion sounded, followed by an unceasing barrage of sound and fury, the whole city set on fire.
A volley of booms reverberated through the hotel, the night sky exploded in light. Reds and greens, and gold, and white. The fireworks were quickly echoed from the nearby buildings, refusing to allow even for a moment of silence. People ran to look out their windows; some set off cherry bombs. Others streamed to the streets, glasses in hand, they joined the dancing at the square. They held Roman candles and waved sparklers, lighting mortars and sky-rockets. Comets shot to the sky and burst in bright chrysanthemums. And in the midst of this chaos, as the room was suffocated by the smell of sulphur, she heard the orchestra downstairs playing the national anthem.
Silvio gave out a muffled laugh, a small sound of surprise, his face turned upwards bathed in the lights. He marvelled at the display. But Emerick was looking at Mihaela, studying her, his back to the celebrations, his black eyes unblinking. Silvio turned and whispered something in his ear, nodding to the square. Emerick’s face remained unchanged, fixed on her.
1992 had arrived. It found Mihaela in a luxurious hotel suite, in the company of the undead, welcoming the New Year in a place they ought not to have been. TheMarquis, theComteand the foundling—the only vampires in the whole of Bulgaria.
While the plane ride to Berlin was quick, getting to the Coven felt like ages. A car picked them up from the airport, the chauffeur nervously holding the doors open for them, his mind a cacophony of timetables:How many hours until sunrise? Is there going to be traffic on the way back? Will everything be ready for the guests when they arrive? Madam would meet and escort them to their rooms. How long was theMarquisstaying?
There were more names and coordinates the mortal went over in his mind. Sometimes Mihaela saw flashes of a large building, a mansion, ballrooms and precious paintings, candles burning, a kitchen teeming with staff. The images shattered the moment the car engine started.
“Is there anything…” Mihaela began, then stopped, frowning.
Next to her on the backseat Silvio turned to face her, waiting. He wore the same set of clothes—no point in carrying luggage for a day trip, he had explained—and this time when he took out the cigarette case she saw that it was covered in irises. The handkerchief in his breast pocket was embroidered with flowers: wild violets, a silver thread tracing their petals like beads of morning dew. She sensed a faint perfume rising from it, something leathery, smoky. She wondered if there were floral engravings on the back of Silvio’s watch or if there were other trinkets in his possession fashioned as blossoms.
It was odd for him to care so much about flowers when Mihaela clearly recalled the face he had made when they walked through the Sofia airport. On their way to the gate they had passed the duty-free and souvenir stand. Silvio’s face was one of utter disgust, he even lifted a hand to cover his nose.Didn’t he make the same grimace, repulsed, when he stepped through the door in my parents’ flat?Back then Mihaela had sniffed the air and she detected only the faint smell of rose oil—her mother was fond of the smell and always had a flask or two.
The Sofia Airport smelled of sweat, reheated food, and chemicals. But it also carried a hint of roses, giving locals and tourists a whiff of what they could experience if they visited the Rose Valley, the centre of the Bulgarian rose-growing industry. For Mihaela the smell was nostalgic and pleasant. Silvio’s whole mood, however, remained sour until the plane took off.
“Yes?” he urged when Mihaela stayed silent.
“What will it be like? The Coven.”
“Depends on what you go there for,” came Silvio’s unhelpful answer.
“What haveyoubeen there for?”
A sly smile spread on his face.
“My divorce. My ascension. And now—to bring you.”
“It doesn’t sound like you visit often.” Mihaela ignored the bait. It was like talking to Astra: whenever Mihaela tried to have a serious conversation with her, her partner would deflect or answer cryptically. Mihaela had no patience for riddles or wordplay, so she ignored them.
“I have a beautiful home in France. Why would I leave it? Everything I need is there,” Silvio straightened his back and shoulders, and leaned into the leather seat. “You are welcome to visit after you settle with the All Father.”
The scenery outside the car windows changed from urban to rural. They had left Berlin. Mihaela studied the trees, their weird naked shapes black against the white of the snow. The greyness of the road ahead of them, merging into the dark sky. For the first time since she agreed to come on this adventure, Silvio’s words left her feeling hopeful. If he was extending an invitation to his home that meant that she was free to move and leaveifandwhenshe wished. Going to the Coven need not be permanent, they were not going to lock her up. It made the remainder of the journey pleasant.
When they finally arrived, Mihaela craned her neck as far as she could, trying to see as much of the building before the double doors closed behind them. The architecture looked neoclassical.It had that attempt at stripping away the excess of the Baroque in favour of something simpler, pure, and full of symmetry. A Classical style made for modern purposes. A building erected for practicality as much as for beauty. She recalled having seen pictures of palaces and castles built in a similar fashion, always set on the outskirts of cities. It reminded her of Vrana Palace, just out of Sofia, the way it was hidden behind trees and how vines crept up its walls.
A servant welcomed and led them through the corridors, his steps fell heavy and with purpose. He took them deeper into the house, past art rooms and halls. Mihaela caught a glimpse of a mediaeval armoury through an open door, figures glided among the suits of armour, stopping abruptly to look at her.
“TheMarquisBracci andComteGabrielli, my lord,” the servant announced, taking an abrupt step aside as he ushered them into a room.
Mihaela was impressed with the man’s agility as he swirled out of their way and closed the door behind them. He moved so swiftly and so silently that for a moment she wondered if she were wrong in her assumption that he was human. Stranger things had happened though. She would not be surprised if demons walked these halls side by side with the damned.
“Ah, but myMarquisis quick to return. I hope you bring good news?” a voice came from the far end of the room.
Mihaela’s eyes scanned the study. There was a massive oak table similar to those that emperors of once used to marshal fleets and legions across maps, redrawing the borders of the world. Strangely enough there were few books. The spaces on the walls intended for shelves and bookcases were instead taken by portraits and paintings; a few mirrors reflected the lights of the chandeliers. Crystal droplets hung from the ceiling and sparkled playfully. There was a fireplace which she almost missed as it was not aflame. Its mantel appeared to be made of crude stone depicting twisted figures of manlike creatures holding up thewhole structure. Leaning against that mantelpiece was a man, watching them.
He looked old and fragile, as human as her father looked, with age carved into the skin of his hands and face, his hair and beard peppered with white. His light eyes were studying her, taking in all of her. When she met his gaze her skin felt like it was covered in maggots, and she had to restrain herself from shaking her whole body in an attempt to get their ghostly presence off her.
