The Vampire's Reflection (16 page)

He turned away from her, wiping it away with a handkerchief from his breast pocket. He felt Charlotte’s stolen blood boiling under his skin. Narrowing his eyes and exhaling slowly through his nose, he turned back to her. “Please. I would like to treat this situation with as much compassion and humanity as
in
humanly possibly. Do not make it difficult.”

The woman said nothing, but continued to fume, breathing heavily through her vexation as she stared him down. Apparently, she didn’t believe actual communication with him would save her life. Her thoughts mentioned something about it being impossible to communicate with the devil. Valek snorted.
The devil
. If she only even knew.

Chapter Ten

Awakening

Nikolai’s heart slammed hard once against the edge of his ribcage, causing his eyelids to burst open. In utter panic, he grasped at his chest, willing his heart to beat that hard again just to be sure.
I’m dead, finally. My weird life has caught up with me
.

But what filled his vision did not meet his expectation of glorious gates, nor clouds, nor cherubs with trumpets in their tiny hands. Instead, he found himself completely surrounded by dingy stone walls, the ceiling dripping with some unknown moisture. Gray catacombs encased with dust. Cobwebs circled the room. What he rested on looked to be a stone slab in the center of the tomb.

Great. I’m in hell
. What was interesting, however, was that he still was breathing, feeling a dull pain at the sides of his head that flared up whenever he inhaled. A concussion? This was surely impossible. He checked his pulse, feeling the beats go on at a slightly elevated rate. He could have sworn he was dead.

He sat straight up on the unfamiliar stone bed, blinking at the room, which held his gaze in such vivid detail. In unadulterated wonder, he literally began to count the tombs against the nearest wall. Near the farthest wall, deep in the shadows of the underground cemetery, a floor-length, antique mirror stood on golden claws with nails sunk deep into the dirt. He could not see his reflection underneath the thick layer of dust, though he swore he could see each and every little crack in the gold leaf. Were heightened senses a symptom of a concussion? Oh crap, he thought, maybe someone had found him and thought he was dead so they put him in the catacombs of the Basilica. No, that was stupid. Only monks and priests were buried in catacombs. He frowned, holding his throbbing head.

He closed his eyes, burying his face in his palms. Where was he? What had happened? He forced his eyes open when the muddy visions of his family flashed before him. His mother and father. How their faces looked. His little sister trembling in the shadows of something evil and considerably more massive than she was, creating a threatening pool of darkness that drowned her instantly. He remembered reaching out for her—screaming—before enduring his own overwhelming, tormenting pain. Had it all been a dream? It couldn’t have been, he decided, seeing where he’d ended up. He had never seen this room before in his life. His eyes scanned the miserably lonely catacombs once more.

He struggled to remember what happened past all that. How he’d gotten here. Everything went to black, and all he could recall was feeling. Burning under a massive fire. Burning that seemed to last for days, weeks maybe. He couldn’t remember. Everything before this moment seemed so hazy and was gradually fading further, sinking in a dark ocean, as if his memories were photographs submerging deeper into the muddy waters of his past. He remembered Charles University and Jindrich. He remembered the strange, dark man that had appeared to him before he’d fled to his family’s country home in Kojakovice. He remembered the slam of a door, the wailing of his mother, and then a horrible vacuuming sensation that seemed literally to pull him out of his own body. He recalled cold, icy water, or what felt like it, pouring down over him, extinguishing the flames inside. Inhaling. The feeling that he’d survived. And then this. Awakening.

His gaze flicked from detail to detail about the room, trying to focus on what was around him, blinking back tears. What was he to do now that his entire family was gone? Ghosts of the sound of his sister’s musical laughter reverberated in his mind and he buried his fists in his eyes to keep from sobbing. He needed to focus now in order to escape from whomever had done this. He had a feeling the one responsible was not very far off. His eyes instantly darted around the corners of the room again. He needed to account for what was around him. Nothing but stone and death. There were vines along the floor, adorned in varying leaves. They disappeared under cracks in the stone. How was it possible for life to survive down in this dismal place? His heart pounded in his throat. What was happening?

Nikolai jumped as something moved in the farthest corner of the room, then. He hadn’t noticed it before, for it was still and elusive enough that somehow, as if by magic, it seemed to have blended in with the shadows themselves. Or had it been there at all? Perhaps it had only just appeared. Was it the same dark man who had called upon him in his apartment in Prague?

“Who’s there?” Nikolai meant for the question to come out a bit more threatening, but he couldn’t fight the break in his voice. It came with a new layer of tears.

“Evening,” the voice said simply. The tone was young, sounding like it belonged to a person around his own age. Masculine. Bordering on arrogant.

“Who are you?” Nikolai wanted to stand, but was afraid that his legs might give up on him if he did. He continued to stay focused on the figure, which was now coming into better focus, the mysterious person’s movements sending a shiver up his spine. He was of an average height, and was dressed in what looked to be a black shirt with a heavy, leather breastplate. Something out of an older time. His shoes were polished, and looked to be made of leather. His auburn hair was gelled neatly back off his face. Like a prince out of one of his sister’s fairy tales. Nikolai squinted to see the smaller details. The boy’s eyes were a piercing, almost unnatural blue. Well, one was. The other one looked pretty normal, and green, which was weird. He’d never seen anyone with two different color eyes before. But from all of this, nothing was as peculiar as the black scarf that remained wrapped around the bottom half of the boy’s face. He began walking at a leisurely gait toward the center of the chamber. Toward Nikolai.

The magic had finally come to claim him, Nikolai thought. This was it. His whole life led up to this moment, though he couldn’t tell now if his destiny was to live or die.

“So, how was it?” The boy’s tone remained casual from behind the scarf.

Nikolai winced at him. Could he possibly be referring to his family’s death? So it wasn’t a dream? “How was what?” he asked defensively. If this weirdo wanted a fight, he…probably wasn’t going to give him one. In all honesty, Nikolai was scared as hell.

The boy stopped, the corners of his eyes crinkling, so that Nikolai could tell there was a smile behind that scarf. “Your awakening, of course.” The boy clasped his hands behind his back and stood thoughtfully for a brief moment before swiftly moving to the mirror and rotating it toward Nikolai, his claws digging deep trails into the layers of dirt as he did so. The glass underneath was revealed. The shrillness of his lethal-looking nails on the glass made the hair on Nikolai's arms and neck stand on end.

Nikolai gasped at his own appearance, finally jumping to his feet from the stone bed. He did not believe the person looking back at him—didn’t recognize the boy at all. He moved his left hand just to be sure he really was staring at his own reflection. Swallowing the dry lump in his throat, he analyzed the appearance of the somewhat familiar face looking at him in the glass. His hair was the same. Short. Brown. And boring, around his face. His face, though. It was similar to what he used to recognize of himself, though exponentially more captivating. Even to himself, and he felt kind of lame for even thinking that. He couldn’t break his gaze from his own eyes. Sure, they used be blue. But never this blue. It almost seemed like they were lit from the inside—like they were glowing. He blinked a few times to be sure their magnificence wouldn’t disappear. But his tan. What the hell happened to that? That had
definitely
vanished, leaving the palest complexion he’d had ever seen. He almost looked…dead.

Nikolai immediately turned to the other boy in the room, who was chuckling darkly, though the sound was nothing more than snake’s laughter.

“What did you do to me? What did you do to my family?” He shook, unable to control the tears that poured shamelessly down his face. He wiped at the stuff dripping from his nose. He couldn’t dislodge the image of his sister from his mind.

The boy stopped laughing and straightened himself, his feet shoulder-width apart. He wasn’t very tall, but his presence was powerful enough to knock over a building. He took a few steps toward Nikolai. “I saved you. I made you better than you were. Stronger.” There was another crinkle at the corner of his eyes. “And considerably better looking.”

Nikolai looked at his own reflection again and decided the strange boy had been right about that, at least. He looked stronger, more toned. His lips looked fuller, his facial features more chiseled. But all of that wasn’t important. “What happened to my sister? My parents?”

The boy leaned his back against one of the stone pillars, flipping something over his fingers. It wasn’t a coin. What was it? “Long gone, my friend. Killed tragically. Murdered.”

“Who did it?” Something in the back of Nikolai’s mind told him the answer. The memory was more hazy and distant by the second, but it was still there. He could still hear the screams. Relive the pain.

The boy stepped closer to him still, until he was only inches away from his face. “You know who did it, Nikolai. You remember….” His voice trailed off as he relinquished a breath, as harsh and as freezing as the winter wind at midnight.

“You?” Nikolai sniffed. The boy’s face was a blur behind the salty tears.

“No. I am your friend, Nikolai. I saved you from death. Focus. Look to the mirror.”

Before Nikolai could gather another thought, he sucked the boy’s icy breath into his own mouth and the room instantly started spinning. He turned back to the glass and the room completely disappeared beneath him, almost swallowed up by the reflection. It was impossible for him to fathom what was happening to his life. Only a few weeks ago he was an average college student. Now, he didn’t know what he was at all.

He gasped upon seeing where the vision took him. Impossible. Suddenly, he was standing back in his own home, the familiar floorboards creaking under his weight as he walked down the darkened hallway. He listened for life, but the house was silent. Maybe he was having a delusion. Maybe he ate a bad mushroom that took him on a trip, and now he was safely back in his own house at night. With that thought, he instantly started feeling better. For a moment, he thought he had only been dreaming—sleepwalking, maybe, though he had never had a problem with it before. That must have been it, he told himself. It had only been some serious nightmare. The shadow boy, the catacombs, his reflection—it had all just been his own imagination. He would go into his bedroom and his sister would be sleeping. Same with his parents. He breathed a sigh of relief.

The front door abruptly burst open, the thing wailing against its hinges as it smashed violently into the wall.

Nikolai shielded his face from the harsh wind.

“Who’s there?”

Nikolai heard his father’s voice as it bellowed from within his parents’ bedroom. They flicked their light on, which illuminated the tiny crack between their closed entryway and the floor. Her heard his father’s heavy footsteps thumping as he raced, probably to fetch a weapon.

Nikolai looked to the front threshold to see a tall, baleful figure standing in it, blocking the only exit of the house. He nearly gasped, thinking the monster was actually himself. The man was so similar looking. Nikolai squinted at him, though as he moved into the light, he took notice of the details that made this monster so very different. Both of its claws dug deep into the wooden doorframe until it cracked as he stood there, breathing fervently, snow flurrying in from the outside between his feet.

“Get out!” Nikolai cried to the figure, but got no response. The man’s brilliant, blue eyes didn’t even flash in his direction. “I’m warning you! I’ll call the police!” Was he dreaming again?

His father appeared in the hallway, clutching a fire poker tightly in his right hand. “I’ll call the police.” His voice echoed. “Show yourself!”

“Dad, don’t!” Nikolai cried, but his father didn’t notice him, either.

The dark figure flew quickly from the threshold, through Nikolai’s ghostly form, to his father. The beast quickly tore through his center with its talons, blood spilling out over the monster’s hand and about the floor. Nikolai cried out, falling to his knees as the creature began to feed from his father’s throat. He watched as his father’s empty body collapse to the floorboards with a thud. Its movements eerily fluid, the figure turned slowly toward his mother, racing for her.

“Please! Stop!” Nikolai begged, turning his face away from the grisly sight. He couldn’t take it. As he wiped the tears away, what he found was even more horrifying. Trails of blood were left, streaked across his hands as he rubbed at his face. Panicking, he clawed at his cheeks again, only to find more blood. These were no normal, salty tears that were left on his sleeve. Nikolai rushed to the small mirror that hung on the wall in the hallway, to gaze at his reflection again, but this time,
no one
was looking back at him. Screaming, he put his hand to the glass in an effort to return back to the dismal crypts.
What is happening to me?

You are nothing but a specter, here, Nikolai
. The boy’s strange voice echoed in his head.
Do not interfere, for the mirror shows nothing but an unchanging memory
.