Chapter 11: Bitter Rain
AN: I'm back! My trip was fun and it was great seeing my friend. I met her boyfriend, her crazy friend who has the same name as me (jeez that got confusing), and was reacquainted with how annoying her youngest brother is. (not even my sisters can match it. And that's saying a LOT) The highlight of my trip was when we went for a two hour hike in the mountains. We were climbing around on the rocks in the stream below the dam and guess what? I was well coordinated and fell in. banging both shins and my shoulder in the process. Heh.
I also got none of my goals accomplished during my trip. I had three: to write the thank-you notes from my b-day, to finish reading The Picture of Dorian Gray for my school summer reading, and of course, to write this chapter. I came home with only a couple of paragraphs of this chappie done and nothing else.
To make matters worse, the events I was trying to and planning on writing for this chapter didn't even make it in and had to be bumped to chapter 12. (which I'll start today. Got nothing else to do because it's pouring down rain in monsoon quantities) So this stupid chap. Turned out completely different than I had planned. But my muse is random like that. Oh well. (mutters) slave driver. Sorry for the long AN.
My first view of Budapest filled me with awe. As we rounded the last mountain, it seemed to me as if a blanket of twinkling lights had been laid over the land for as far as the eye could see. Being raised in a small village of little more than a hundred people, I could not have imagined that such a city even existed.
And there, crowning the far bank of the diversionary river, was Dracula's summer palace. While much smaller in stature than I knew his ice fortress to be, this palace had a much warmer look about it. Maybe it was the absence of the towering black cliffs, or the ever-present whirling snow, or…
Either way, the palace glittered like a gem in the velvety night, the lights of the city reflecting off of marble statues had gold enamel. I could only imagine what the inside looked like.
We were greeted at the door by another small impish creature, not entirely unlike the one at the other vampire's castle. Stepping through the intricately carved front doors, it was as if I'd entered a fantasy realm of wealth. There was gold everywhere, expensive looking paintings and murals adorned the walls, and the floor, when I finally stopped gaping long enough to look at it, was made of polished marble. In my wildest dreams I could never have pictured myself standing in such surroundings.
Verona toughed my shoulder lightly, startling me out of my reverie. "Come," she said and led me up the main staircase to my room. I followed obediently.
At first, I did not notice much about my room, because immediately upon entering it, my attention was taken up wholly by what lay beyond the tall window. Leaving Verona to what she wished, I raced out onto the balcony and stood overlooking the city, with the river flowing swiftly two stories beneath my feet.
Taking a deep breath, I inhaled the unique scents of Budapest; oil from lanterns burning even at this late hour, smoke rising from taverns, the dampness of the river, the scent of foods whose names I could not discern. The sounds of carriages, boats ferrying goods sluggishly along the river, the chatter and laughter of the city's residents floated up to my ears. Their laughter struck a chord of longing within me.
In the complete isolation I'd become almost accustomed to during the past three weeks, I'd not constantly missed the companionship and close proximity to other humans. But here, where I could all but reach out my hand and touch them, they reminded me of what had been stolen from my existence. I longed to go out and walk among them, to engage in idle conversation that had no apparent reason or purpose other than to just give sound to thoughts.
A tear slipped down my cheek, hanging suspended on the tip of my chin for what seemed an eternity before falling gently to the stone railing. It was followed by two more, then three, until I was crying a silent bitter rain.
No one, immortal or no, should have to exist like this, cut off from the world they loved. I could not wait for All Hallow's to pass. It was cruel of Dracula to bring me here, whether he realized it or not. I missed the carefree quality of normal mortal life.
But I did not belong to their world any more. To them I was dead, no more than a wraith of this plane. Even if I was allowed to go into the city, I would stick out like a sore thumb. The odd one. The stranger.
Where did I belong, if not with other humans? Certainly not in the dark world I'd been living in, if one could call it that. I hesitate to even say living now, because looking back, it seemed as if I merely existed, wandering without an apparent purpose or direction to my life.
That's it, I snapped to myself, One way or another, I will go into Budapest. My eyes roved the skyline, coming to rest a familiar and unmistakable silhouette.
There, I thought, me attention focused solely upon the black shape of the church steeple. I'm going there.
I turned back to look into my room. Verona was long gone from my doorway, but just to be sure, I locked it. Sure, that'd only stop someone for about thirty seconds, but hey, it made me feel better. Grabbing a cloak from the wardrobe, I hurried back out to the balcony. Tucking the cloak under my arm, I glided down, away from the palace, hugging the surface of the river to avoid detection.
It worked.
Once I reached the opposite bank, I wrapped the cloak around myself and drew up the hood to hide my odd colored hair before disappearing into the narrow streets. Before long, I wished I had ten more sets of eyes to look at everything. Even though many of the shops were closed at night, I saw bakeries, glass shops where the windows displayed delicately blown figurines and dyed goblets, tailor shops, cobblers, and more. I would have to return by day when everyone was asleep and go into every shop.
The church loomed at the end of the street, dark gray against the pure black of the sky. Suddenly, I shrank from entering that hallowed place. I had fallen so far. What if Dracula had tainted me too much with darkness? Looking up at the stained glass windows, their colored fragments depicting holy scenes, I gave a small laugh. There was no reason to fear the church of all places!
The heavy doors opened with just the slightest creak of their hinges as I slipped inside the candlelit interior and made my way to the altar. Kneeling, I looked up into the painted face of the Virgin Mary, who was holding the baby Christ. There was something so calm and accepting about her face, something so forgiving and familiar. It was humbling, how the painting seemed to stare into my very soul and bare all the secrets of my being. I felt almost ashamed of what I brought before her.
"There are many who feel as you do child."
I glanced around, startled. An old priest was standing beneath a window, changing the tapers that had burned too low. He had a kind look on his face.
"Am I so transparent?"
"It is the nature of humanity child." He sank slowly onto one of the pews. I stood and turned to him, a question burning in my mind.
"Is anyone beyond redemption?" I nervously waited for his answer. It has cost a lot to ask him. The priest smiled.
"Everyone sins, and for that we must undergo punishment to atone for those sins. But we are merely human and therefore not infallible. God, in his mercy, forgives all of us." He gave me a pat on the shoulder. "You have nothing to fear child."
But I do, I though, watching him make his way back through the rows of church pews. I have more to fear than you know. I looked back at the image above the altar and traced my fingers over the cross resting on the table.
As my fingers moved over its outline I felt warmth spread through them, sending waves of peacefulness throughout my being. Light seemed to be absorbed into the cross rather than reflected off of it and as I closed my eyes, a voice whispered in my ear,
Courage, small one, courage.
My heart was much lighter as I left the church, once more pulling the hood of my cloak over my hair. Not really paying attention to anything but the general direction I was heading in, I turned down a narrow alleyway and headed back towards the river.
The feeling of edged steel sliding under my chin brought me sharply out of my reflections. I froze and turned slowly around to face my attacker. He was an older man, maybe in his fifties or so, wearing battered grimy clothes. He smelled rank.
"Well now," he said, leering at me. His rancid breath carried the heavy stench of drink. "Ye look like ye're worth a lot to summat. Meybe them that keeps ye won't begrudge a man a few coins fer yer safe return."
I shivered, but did not move. But I didn't worry for long. The man gave a shuddering gasp and staggered backwards, sinking slowly to the cobbled street. It was then that I noticed his dagger was no longer in his hand, pressed against my neck.
It was shoved through his chest from behind.
I looked up reluctantly. Only four people I knew could move that fast.
Dracula kicked the ruffian away. His eyes carried that unholy electric blue tinge and his pale face was sheet white with fury.
Kay, now be nice and give lots of reviews! Those, plus unmentionable amounts of sugar, is the only thing that keeps me going. (maybe that explains me being the way I am. dunno)