Kiss Of The Butterfly Part 18

'Welcome to Buda,' Professor Slatina exclaimed warmly.

Interlude VIII: Backa, Salas 431: February - April 1983 It was a typical salas, an isolated Vojvodina farm consisting of a whitewashed one story house with a corn crib and other outbuildings sheltered under cl.u.s.ters of tall Linden, Maple and Chestnut trees, with fields spreading out endlessly on all sides.

The eleven arrived unannounced for supper late one frosty February night, when snow blanketed the roads, cutting the salas off from civilization. The flickering light of the television and embers of a dying fire cast jittery shadows across the whitewashed tobacco grey walls, while a dim 45 watt light bulb struggled to defeat a thick yellow lamp shade. The parents had sent the children to bed early, and then retired to the old overstuffed furniture of the sitting room with the grandparents to watch a television doc.u.mentary on humpbacked whales. The men and the mother smoked and drank beer. After the humpbacked whales had finished mating, everybody trundled off to bed, the mother remaining behind to tidy up. She opened a window to air the cigarette smoke from the room.

Unseen, two large hairy b.u.t.terflies entered through the window, and fluttered to the ceiling lamp, waiting until the mother had shut the window and turned out the lights. Then followed what Ivan the youngest artlessly termed 'a wonderful six course meal.'

The eleven watched the flickering picture box in rapt fascination, learned of electricity, studied all they could from doc.u.mentary films and what few books and magazines lay around the house. They lived off the farm animals, slowly taking blood from one after another. From the television they learned of t.i.to's Yugoslavia, communism, Brotherhood and Unity and Workers' Socialist Self-management. In February they discovered that starting the farmer's battered car an old Fica, the Yugoslav copy of the tiny Fiat Toppo Giggio was not as easy as they had seen on television. They saw that the world they had once known had changed dramatically. No longer did a Kaiser sit in Vienna, a Sultan in Istanbul or a Tsar in Russia. At first they were baffled by communism and democracy, concepts unknown in their time. But the language of power stays the same, no matter which age, and they quickly grasped the essentials.

Using the salas as a base, they traveled throughout Yugoslavia to places long forgotten, valleys long flooded, fields long built over, mines long abandoned and old watermills still churning. Slowly, bit by bit they collected the vestiges of their once substantial fortunes and compared notes. They sought out the Vlach but could not find him. Nor could they find any evidence he had ever been killed.

And when they finally decided the Vlach was dead and their quorum would not be reformed in its full capacity, one by one, they left the salas and rejoined the world.

CHAPTER NINE.

THE TRUTH WILL OUT.

Budapest, Petrovaradin: 10-15 May 1992 Slatina was fas.h.i.+onably attired as usual, looking every bit the high society Italian playboy in a beige linen suit and matching crocodile belt and shoes.

'Perhaps he could be the mysterious Venetian,' Steven thought. But he looked no older than his early thirties.

'My dear Steven, how delightful to see you once again,' Slatina placed his sungla.s.ses on his head, hugged and kissed Steven on both cheeks. 'Thank you so much for coming. I trust I have not inconvenienced you with these alternate arrangements. After all, precautions must be taken.'

'Where are we?' Steven demanded irritably.

'But of course, of course, there is much to discuss and you must have so many questions.' Slatina's disposition matched the midday sun. 'Come, we shall talk and you shall tell me of your research and of my good friends in Belgrade.'

Slatina motioned for Steven to sit in a cus.h.i.+oned wrought-iron garden chair. Slatina sat while Steven remained standing and the elderly man brought a tea pot and sandwiches.

'Afternoon tea is yet one more proof of the magnificent cultural heights achieved by the English,' Slatina purred gracefully, sniffing the aromas from the teapot. 'Would you not agree?'

Steven muttered and remained standing.

'So tell me, young Roberts, how is your research progressing?'

Steven responded by opening his backpack, removing the wooden stake and laying it brazenly on the table. 'Mrs. Lazarevic gave this to me.'

Slatina started at the sight and spilled his tea, clearly recognizing not only what but whose it was.

'She said I was to tell you...' Steven fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a piece of folded paper, 'that the Emperor's pets have escaped...and it's time you return and finish the job.' He placed the paper face up on the table for Slatina to see.

'And she also told me a great deal more,' Steven folded his arms on his chest. 'A kresnik?' He let the word hang in the air and looked expectantly at Slatina.

For the first time since Steven had known him, Slatina appeared at a loss for words. The smile disappeared as the professor picked up the stake, hefted it and rapped it hard against his open palm. 'I haven't seen this for a long time,' he mused. 'You know, of course, that it belonged to Katarina's father.'

'What in the h.e.l.l is going on,' Steven exploded. He no longer cared about his fellows.h.i.+p from the Balkan Ethnographic Trust, nor did he care for his relations.h.i.+p with his mentor. He now felt like walking away from graduate school and his Ph.D. entirely, simply to get away from Slatina. 'I thought I was going to Yugoslavia for ethnographic research, but instead I find out you've sent me on some weird vampire hunt, where I don't know if I'm the hunter or the hunted.'

His loud voice attracted the attention of the old man, who came out onto the terrace. Slatina waved him away.

'What is the Balkan Ethnographic Trust? What are you using me for? I don't like being manipulated!'

'Yes, yes, of course.' Slatina remained sitting and looked Steven up and down, clearly taken aback. 'I must apologize most profoundly for my failure to communicate to you the circ.u.mstances of your position. Due to the sensitive nature of the matter I felt it best to not inform you fully until you had gained further knowledge and I was certain you could be trusted. Certainly you have earned the right to many answers. Please calm down and tell me what you have done thus far.'

'No,' Steven said defiantly. 'First you tell me what's going on. I want to know what you've gotten me mixed up in.'

'I must once again apologize,' Slatina said sincerely. 'I should have been more forthcoming with you prior to the start of your journey. Yet I feared if I told you, you would think me deluded, or that you would fear the dangers involved. Either way you would not have gone, and I knew no one else of sufficient moral stature and maturity who I could entrust with...'

'Trust with what,' Steven interrupted.

'Steven, I shall be very blunt with you,' Slatina said. He stood, grasped Steven by both shoulders and looked directly into his eyes, unblinking.

What Steven saw made him gasp, for the professor's eyes reddened until they were a deep luminescent scarlet, and then his irises altered their shape to resemble those of a large feline. Steven saw power and strength in them, as well as a brief flicker of a soul that had comprehended the depths of human darkness and was haunted by it.

Then in a heartbeat the scarlet eyes sprang and burst through his own, crawling into the core of his soul as Slatina's gaze clutched Steven in an iron grip. Steven watched powerless as Slatina reached inside him, ripped out his heart and handed it to the jackal-headed Anubis, who placed it on a golden balance to be measured against a glowing feather. A hideous beast with a crocodile head and hippo hindquarters crouched at his side, growling and salivating in antic.i.p.ation of devouring Steven's pulsating heart. As Anubis lowered the heart on the balance Steven felt chills course throughout his body. He watched in horror as the balance began to dip downward, only to gradually halt its movement and then ever so slowly ascend until it was level with the feather. And then the feather inched downward as the heart rose ever so slightly. The growling beast roared with dismay and vanished, and suddenly Steven was back on the terrace, looking into Slatina's gentle smile.

He felt violated and naked, ashamed to look at the professor. An uncomfortable silence followed, in which Steven stared at the tile flooring.

Finally Slatina spoke. 'You have the heart of a good man, Steven Roberts. What I shall share with you...you must never divulge to anyone. Otherwise you will suffer your life to be taken.'

Steven could see this was no idle threat: Slatina, he was now sure, had clearly carried it out on previous occasions and would not hesitate to do so again.

'And by accepting this information you shall bind yourself to me in a very difficult quest,' Slatina continued. 'Is this what you want?'

Steven stood, silent and uncertain. Uncertain whether he wanted to enter further into Slatina's strange world, and whether he fully comprehended the choice he was about to make. 'What kind of a quest? What're you talking about?'

Slatina's eyes maintained their eerie glow: 'Good against Evil, Light against Dark, a quest that could end with you losing your soul and your life, or perhaps saving the souls and lives of others.'

Steven looked at him for several moments, frightened by the eyes and the power that lay behind them, unsure of himself and Slatina, unsure of the wisdom of what he was doing.

And then he nodded his head affirmatively, although still uncertain.

'Do not nod your head. You must say it. You must give me your spoken word,' Slatina looked directly at him with those unearthly cat eyes, now a dark crimson.

'Yes,' Steven's voice emerged uneven.

'Very well. I know you to be trustworthy and a man of honor and conscience. The light you nurture within your heart is strong...' Slatina's voice trailed off. He smiled at Steven, his eyes now reverting to their normal shape and color.

Slatina approached the wrought-iron rail of the terrace and looked down. He sniffed the air from habit. 'Sit down, drink your tea, eat a sandwich, and permit your old professor to share with you a tale unlike any you have ever heard.'

Only now did Steven notice the railing was covered with b.u.t.terflies. They moved aside as Slatina approached, making s.p.a.ce for him.

'I fought on these very battlements when we drove the Turks from Buda in 1686,' he exclaimed wistfully. 'We lost many good men and destroyed the entire city in the process. But that is another story, one which I shall tell you on another, perhaps less serious occasion.'

Steven looked at him and listened, uncertain whether to believe Slatina's claim about fighting in a battle at this very spot over 300 years ago. After all, the professor looked so young. Steven sat down, picked up a sandwich and realized he had lost his appet.i.te.

'Now, where shall I begin,' Slatina asked as he stood at the railing, both hands firmly grasping the wrought iron, staring across the river over the rooftops of Buda and Pest into s.p.a.ce, as though transported back through time. 'I was born in 1640 into a patrician family on the Dalmatian island of Hvar, to a goodly mother, kind and wise. Her family married her off at a young age to the heir of the Slatina family, a rogue by the name of Hektor, ten years her senior, may G.o.d abandon his soul to the fires of h.e.l.l. Have you ever been to Hvar, young Steven? It has the oldest indoor theatre in all Europe and is really quite beautiful. We are proud of it... But I digress.' His eyes shone as he recalled his home.

'My mother was beautiful, pure and gentle with a strong faith in G.o.d. My father was a wastrel, whose life was given to pursuing worldly pleasures: gambling, women, wine and exotic powders and pastes from the Orient, what we today call narcotics. She brought with her a dowry of several servants, slaves, vineyards on the north side of Hvar and on the island of Vis. The family press made a rather good Vugava. You do know about Vugava, of course...' his voice trailed off as he wandered through distant memories.

'Vugava?' Steven was confused.

'Yes, our white wine, raw, primitive and powerful, and it is made only on Vis. It won the name "Queen of Wines" from the Greeks, and was exported throughout the ancient world: Cyprus, Crete, Rome, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera... As a wine it is not for everyone...but I digress yet again.'

'To feed his evil habits and cover his gambling debts, my father traded with the Turks and the Genoese contrary to the laws of Venice...'

'Venice?' Steven asked, intrigued. 'What did he have to do with Venice?'

'Venice? But of course you know that Hvar was a Venetian possession at the time.'

Steven kicked himself for forgetting Balkan history. 'So, are you the one they called the Venetian?'

Slatina looked surprised. 'How did you know that? It was my nickname when I served the Habsburg Emperors.' His tone showed newfound respect for Steven.

'When my mother bore him only daughters my father quickly became bored and moved to Venice itself, where he could more easily indulge his vices, leaving her behind on Hvar to languish and make do as best she could.'

'When he had squandered his family's fortune my mother refused to let him spend her dowry. He turned to piracy against Venetian vessels, disguising himself first as a Turk, then later as an Uskok corsair. As a pirate he committed crimes and deeds most heinous and vile, that only the blackest heart could conceive, and he bragged that he had set a curse on G.o.d himself, if such a thing is possible. The Turks called him Kara-Hektor, or Black Hektor.' On one voyage he was taken with disease. He returned to Hvar, where he quickly died and was buried in the graveyard on the hilltop overlooking the harbor.'

'But his story didn't end there. Several weeks after his death he was seen wandering near the graveyard at night. Wickedness combined with happenstance, and he had become a vampire. One evening he visited my mother to satisfy his vile l.u.s.ts, and I am the result. Twenty one years later I tracked him down in a lagoon at the mouth of the Neretva river where he was hiding. I killed him,' He looked around, brushed some imaginary dirt off his suit coat, and turned again to stare over the Danube. Several b.u.t.terflies fluttered in the air and came to rest on his shoulders, as though comforting him.

Steven sat numbly. 'I'm really sorry. I didn't know that...'

'Do you know what it is like to kill your own father? No, of course not. But I must say, under the circ.u.mstances it was quite liberating. He had blackened the family name, besmirched my mother's reputation and terrorized all Dalmatia in search of blood to feed his unquenchable thirst.' Slatina's hands clenched the railing tightly.

'So you are a vampirovic. I mean a kresnik,' Steven stared at Slatina's back, waiting for confirmation.

Slatina turned, leaned back against the railing and smiled kindly. 'Yes, young Roberts, I am. And a worse fate I could not imagine in life, except that which awaits my adversaries.'

'Your adversaries?'

'Yes, my adversaries. You call them vampires.'

'Vampires,' Steven repeated without emotion, overwhelmed by Slatina's tale.

'Vampires,' Slatina stated emphatically.

'Vampires,' Steven repeated. 'But...I mean...'

Slatina waved his hand. 'Please permit me to continue.'

'My family's patrician status enabled me to enter the service of the Serene Republic, Venice, and I commanded a contingent of Stradioti light cavalry near Spalato, or Split, as they call it today. I eventually won my spurs in the Cavalieri di San Marco, Venice's only chivalrous order,' he said with evident pride.

'So you're a knight,' Steven looked at him, still skeptical.

'It's not all that it's cracked up to be,' Slatina smiled. 'So, did you look into the Order of the Dragon?'

The sudden change of topic surprised Steven. 'The Order, yes, of course. Why?'

'Have you discovered its purpose?' Slatina asked.

'Well, not really.'

'Well, you know, of course, that a vampirovic has special...how shall we say...talents,' He smiled at Steven, who shuddered at the memory of Slatina's eyes and the interrogation of his soul. 'Talents that enable him to track and kill vampires with great expediency. Mine came to the attention of the Order.'

Steven's curiosity had driven most of the anger from him, and each new revelation made him more curious. 'Were you in the Order of the Dragon?' he blurted.

Slatina smiled again and nodded. 'O quam misericors est Deus, Justus et Pius.'

'O how merciful is G.o.d, Just and Faithful,' Steven translated.

'Yes. I was in the Order. In fact, I believe I am all that is left of it. You must understand what we faced. The mountains in the Balkans contain vast riches of ores and minerals that man has mined since antiquity. But under those hills lay a darkness placed there by the Adversary at the foundation of the world to corrupt man. This latent evil was uncovered by Roman miners who worked the hills at Argentium in Bosnia, and at Novo Brdo in Kosovo and other places. The Order was created to repulse it.'

'This great wealth provided half of Europe's silver during the Middle Ages and financed the rise of the Serbian Empire, the Bosnian Kingdom and the city-state of Dubrovnik, while Bavaria's House of Fugger and their bank grew fabulously wealthy from it.'

'I was inducted into the Order while serving the Austrians. We used the natural barriers of the Danube and Sava Rivers to keep this evil from the heart of the Empire. While in the Order, I met another vampirovic, a Serb by the name of Rade, who's father Lazar had terrorized his native village in Kosovo for many years before Rade killed him. Rade was serving in one of the border units garrisoned at Kalemegdan when I first met him. I had him transferred to my command and we became the Emperor's sword and s.h.i.+eld in the fight against this plague. For over 200 years, we were bosom companions and best friends.'

'Just a second, now,' Steven interrupted. 'The folk tales I read all say that a vampirovic is supposed to be immortal, just like vampires. So how did Lieutenant Lazarevic die? And why are you still alive?'

'Immortal,' Slatina once again smiled wistfully. 'Well, I would hesitate to say for certain, as I would need to live to see the end of what we call time to make any such p.r.o.nouncement with certainty. I can, however, state that we do seem rather long-lived and it is d.a.m.ned hard to kill us if we don't wish to die.'

'But why did Katarina's father die?'

'Because of a woman,' Slatina said wistfully, 'As true a love as ever captured a man's heart. You see, should a vampirovic decide to reproduce, he loses the essence of his immortality. As he pa.s.ses on new life, he becomes subject to all the frailties and infirmities of mortality. Unfortunately, my dear Rade had taken quite a fancy to schnapps and cigars over the centuries. Before he met Katarina's mother it meant nothing, but his habits stayed with him after Katarina's birth, and the acc.u.mulated centuries of tobacco, alcohol and meat-eating caught up with him quite rapidly.'

'I'm sorry,' Steven said.

'Now, have I not told you enough crazy stories for one day?'

'But why'd you send me to Serbia?' Steven asked. 'And what did Mrs. Lazarevic mean when she said that "the Emperor's pets have escaped"?'

Slatina looked at him as if deciding whether or not to continue, then sat down and took a sandwich. He motioned to Steven to do the same.

'It is simple. I cannot travel to Yugoslavia. I needed someone I trusted to gather information for me.'