Chapter Two

István Helsing

"Excuse me, sir," I began. "Can I help you?"

I watched as relief swim over his white face.

"You speak English?" He asked, glad to hear something familiar. I paused, for a moment; this man spoke differently. He spoke the same language, yet it sounded different from the way the Ambassador talked.

"Yes," I said. "Do you wish to rent a room?"

And yet I sounded different from the Ambassador too. I thought I was that way because I was unintelligent. He nodded. I pulled an old ink pen from the drawer under the counter, and opened the log of the boarders' names.

"Name, please, sir?"

"Stoker, Abraham...and who might you be, lass?"

I looked up from the log. Sir Stoker looked dazed.

"I am Nyajas," I whispered, humbly.

"Nyagas," He said incorrectly. "A beautiful name, very fitting for you, lass."

"Thank you," I muttered. Anya noticed Sir Stoker's dazed face, and leaned forward, whispering in our language,

"Your történik charm has ensnared the fat man."

"I don't mean to have a történik charm, Anya..." I said softly, rather irritably as flushing red flew to my cheeks.

"I know cukorka," Mama cooed again. "You've had it since you were born."

The történik charm...when I explained it to the Ambassador he laughed and waved his hand,

"You mean a 'Come hither' charm? My dear, you are not a witch! Such a sweet innocent woman as you could not be of the devil."

But the other beautiful girls of Atkozott do not draw eyes and men as I do. The Ambassador said it was the ways of my people to be superstitious, but I was under no spell nor did I cast a charm I could not control. I believe the Europeans simply are not superstitious enough. Which reminded me-

"...Sir Stoker, I must caution you. There is a..." I tried to think up a way to put it so that he would not cast it aside as superstition.

"Yes, young lass?" He smiled with his glazed eyes.

"The nobleman of our village lives in the south," I began, pointing out the window. "In the castle, there. He is a horrible man. He murders at night, sometimes stealing men to torture them for as long as they will survive... You must be incredibly alert at nightfall; do not go outside, and do not speak to any strangers..."

"A murderer? Who is he?" Sir Stoker's face was twisted in unbelief.

"He is a Count. Please, Sir Stoker, do not go out at night and stay alert," I begged, leaning forward in my urgency. "He can creep into houses and through locked doors."

"...How? How does he-he do this? Why don't the authorities arrest him?"

"There is no one who will help us," I said. "Just, please, be very careful. It is horrifying to find who he has murdered."

"Nyajas! Megszüntet!" Anya suddenly interrupted. She must have been able to guess what I was talking about.

"Mi, Anya?" I turned to her, knowing I was caught.

"You were talking about the ördög Count," She said, her face's color fleeing. "You know such talk is forbidden. Do not speak such a wicked name."

"Anya, I did not say his name," I said, quietly. "I would never say his name. But the Irishman needs warning or else he will-."

"It is none of our business," Anya said sternly, her eyes shrinking in fear. "It is God's will."

A frightening thought hit me. Perhaps the Count is beckoning me because of my constant warnings to visitors...he loses a feed because of my talk. The Count is beckoning me because he wants rid of me. If he comes to take my soul he will murder Mama as well. Sir Stoker looked like a smart man. I gave him enough... I cannot let Anya die because of me. But then the Irishman will die because of me as well. I swallowed my tears, and took a key from the hooks. Sir Stoker is an intelligent man; he will see the signs, and understand....

"I will show you to the room, sir," I said in a disguised sob.

"Lass," Sir Stoker started gently, his eyes glazing over again. "Forgive me if my questions have upset you..." My történik charm has caused him to forget all about the Count. Now he will die, and it truly is my fault...

"No, sir," I said, returning my voice to normal. "It is not you." Oh, Atya...I am so terrified. Always.

Because we are hunted.

A scream awoke Atkozott at dawn.

The butcher, Kövér, and his wife were dead, and the filthy remains of three cattle were scattered in the pen. All of the animals were gone. Választ, Kövér's son, later found the remaining sheep, lambs, goats, etc. miles and miles away. No one acknowledged what had made them flee.

Everyone already knew. Even Sir Stoker.

Kövér's yard was covered in salt and holy water, and the house was burned down. All of the villagers crowded into the church and said prayers for hours before returning to their day.

When I would pass the ruins of Kövér's house on my way to the bakery, I would need to cross myself, as everyone else did. No one spoke of the murder afterwards.

The houses in Atkozott are mostly made of stone or wood. Many rickety iron staircases lead up to apartments over stores, or stores over houses. Shops are few, we only have the essentials: bakery, grocery store, Apothecary, and a day ago we had a Butcher shop. There is also a stable where carriages and horses are bought and rented.

We are a small town, but somehow he always finds a feed. Oh! My thoughts had wandered to him again.... Which reminded me of Sir Helsing.

"Anya, I am going on the errands," I called after breakfast as I opened the door to leave.

"Mi, Nyajas? So early? The sun is still too low! The outside is still too dark!" Mama called, frightened, hurrying out of the kitchen.

"It seems bright enough, Mama," I said. I wanted to hurry and get my outside time over with. My anya frowned at me for a moment.

"You may go," She said.

"Thank you, Anya," I replied, turning to leave.

"Wait, cukorka," Mama said, and then called, "István!" My cheeks blushed red again.

"Oh, Mama, no...you do not need to call-."

"Igen?" Sir Helsing's reply was heard from the second floor. He was one of the few boarders in Mama's boarding house. I heard his footsteps on the stairs, and soon he was standing before us. In the early sunrays sweat twinkled on his forehead, his cheeks rosy as though he had been running.

"Would you mind escorting my Nyajas on her errands?" Anya said, putting her hands on her hips. "She insists on going early, and I am afraid it is still too dark." István turned his handsome head too look out the small window.

"I can assure you, Margaréta, it is safely bright enough, but if you still wish me to go with Nyajas, it is no bother," He smiled.

István Helsing was a very handsome man of thirty years. His Transylvanian parents were living in Amsterdam when he was born. They soon moved back to Atkozott, how, I have no clear idea; we are trapped here, cursed to never be able to leave.

I have listened to him talk to Anya about his past, and I must be slightly mad to have memorized it all.

István's hair was brown, a dark brown but still brown, which is very strange, but I think it to be the most wonderful color hair could be. His eyes were so dark they seemed almost...purple in the sunlight. It seems impossible that such a man as István has not yet married by his age, but our town Atkozott is against him. István has studied the ways of the Count and his kind. He knows when he might come and when someone is being fed on each night, but not to the point of death. The people used to listen to him, and heed his words despite his young age, but István was rejected and loathed when he could not save Apollónia.

The villagers said she too had the történik charm, but István, who has a great knowledge of such things, says that it is not nearly as powerful as mine. I had been a good friend of Apollónia, and she was the most gorgeous woman my eyes had ever seen. She was like a goddess, the way she walked, the way she spoke, and so compassionate. Although, one year, her skin began to fade, her eyes were pale, worse than Kroki's. She had become very ill, and no longer wished to move from her bed.

That was when they called for István. Easily, he made his diagnosis; Apollónia was slowly being attacked by the Count. István said that he was probably planning to turn her into what he was. István put up all of the items to keep the Count away and restored Apollónia's blood as often as he was capable but he told me that by the time he had started, it was too late. And so eventually, Apollónia died. They buried her in a beautiful ceremony. And now, no one believes Sir Helsing. They hate him, and spit on him. Soon after Apollónia's funeral, a mob burned Sir Helsing's small house to embers. Since then he has lived with us, although it has caused Anya a lot of customers. It does not matter; István Helsing is a very good family friend.

"I very much appreciate it, István," Anya said as we walked out of the door.

But now it was inevitable.

"Not at all, Margaréta," Sir Helsing replied, over his shoulder.

I was going to have to tell Sir Helsing about my dreams- nightmares.

I will face my humiliation....

To save Anya.

And myself.

...If only we could escape, and leave Atkozott forever.