Perhaps it is best to draw them out. I had hoped to wait until they are surrounding us completely and we know exactly where their master is,Tomas replied.
You do like things easy,Mataias said.
As easy and as efficient as possible,Tomas agreed.
He deliberately allowed his hand to brush against the thorny bark of one of the tall kapok trees. The spines, or conical thorns, gave the giant tree a menacing appearance. It was also perfect to feign cutting one’s hand carelessly as many visitors to the rainforest did. A Carpathian wouldn’t have gotten cut, but if he did, he would have closed the wound immediately.
Tomas had assumed the role of a professor, one he was quite familiar with. Swearing, he brought his injured palm to his mouth and then shook it as if it stung. As he did, he flung tiny droplets of blood into the air. Improbably, at that precise moment, a breeze seemed to drop through the canopy, setting off several small eddies of leaves and twigs on theforest floor. At the same time, that slight wind dispersed the drops of blood throughout the air. The droplets appeared like tiny rubies glittering in the weird streak of light that shone through the canopy.
Mataias kept his hand close to his chest as he manipulated the still air, producing the slight breeze that would send his brother’s ancient Carpathian blood straight to the concealed vampires. No vampire, not even a master, could resist the lure of ancient blood. He had stepped in front of Tomas, right into the pathway of the three vampires concealed just ahead of them, ready to spring their ambush.
Lojos paused for a moment, bending down on the pretext of tying his boot, putting his body right in the middle of the three trees whose root systems housed the eager vampires. Deliberately, he didn’t look at the jutting fins of roots, rather fussed over meticulously tying the cords on his boot as if to tighten them.
Tomas dropped back from his brothers, putting his hand to his mouth as if the stinging wound could be soothed that way. In truth, his healing saliva closed the tiny laceration. He stood swaying a little, looking around him at the trees and shrubs, studiously avoiding looking behind him.
Evil had a smell. A presence. The undead weren’t simply pure evil; they were abominations. Nature shrank from contact with them. Their poisonous touch caused every living thing to wither and die. The ground groaned and trembled when their feet touched it. Trees split in two. The leaves and fronds on brush and fern turned black and broke apart. The undead delighted in killing. It mattered little if it was plants, wildlife or human. They lived for cruel torture and the destruction of all living things.
Movement in the roots. The three are emerging,Tomas warned Lojos.I still haven’t located their master.
Tomas, like his brothers, was pragmatic about not always knowing exactly what they were up against—or who. It mattered little. Over the centuries, they had been forced to battle and dispose of friends, and even family. Cousins. They had learned from experience that vampires couldnot be recovered. The Carpathian they once had been was long gone—dead to their world. It was only an evil entity left behind in a rotting body.
The trees shivered and shook. Leaves tumbled to the ground as branches cracked ominously, splitting apart so that dark, poisonous sludge oozed in thick streams down trunks. The large fin-shaped roots shuddered and creaked in protest. The ground rippled, then rolled and pitched as if trying to dislodge something foul from its depths.
Lojos stood slowly, turning to face the three vampires as they emerged from the root system and spread out in an attempt to surround him. Long tongues, like those of lizards, darted out in an attempt to capture the droplets of blood that had been dispersed in the air. The three were dressed similarly, in dark trousers and lighter shirts. To Lojos, they appeared in shades of gray. Their attire didn’t impress him any more than their hair. They looked as if they wore ill-fitting wigs.
The strange thing was their faces were oddly familiar. Or at least, they had the appearance of being triplets—triplets that imitated Lojos and his brothers’ features. They didn’t come close by any means, but the resemblance was there—faintly, but there. To his knowledge, they didn’t have cousins who were triplets.
Take a look at these three,he advised his brothers.Do they remind you of anyone?
Change your appearance, Lojos,Tomas ordered.All of us should. They look too much like us for it to be coincidence. Try to engage them in conversation. We need to know what they’re up to.
Does our hair look like that?Mataias asked.
I certainly hope not,Tomas said.That hair is more appalling than their twisted faces. Surely, we don’t look as bad as that lot.
If we do, our brethren should have warned us,Lojos said.
Tomas turned away from the three vampires to face the new ones hurrying behind them to seal off any retreat. They emerged from three different locations, their attire far too similar to the three accosting Lojos. Only their faces and hair were different. He stared at them for a moment, aware that their appearance had thrown him off.
When he had advised his brothers to change their appearance, he had done the same. Looking at the three vampires rushing to cut him off from the others, had it been possible for him to feel astonishment, he would have. Not wanting his brothers to turn from their tasks, he sent them images of the three he faced.
The vampire on his left wore his atrocious hair falling to his waist in what appeared to be a bird’s nest of tangles. Worse, clumps were missing from his scalp, while other places had far too much hair shooting up in a ridiculous manner like sprouts.
He is definitely attempting to look like Benedek.He named an ancient they had been traveling with a week earlier.Thank the stars we know Benedek’s hair is not so hideous.
Good grief. Why would they want to appear as such buffoons?Lojos asked.
Look at this one,Tomas advised, showing the vampire approaching from his right.His hair is worse than Benedek the imposter.He sent the image of the vampire to his brothers.He must be imitating Petru.
Petru was another ancient who had found his lifemate in the hills above Dellys, Algeria, on the Mediterranean Sea.
His hair is exploding out of his head like a whitish-gray pelt found from roadkill,Mataias observed.Good grief, you don’t suppose he ran across a dead animal and tried to use its fur for hair?
What has hair that long?Lojos asked.And why is it lopsided on him?
I do wish I could take a quick picture and send it to Petru,Tomas said. He held up his hand to stop the rush of the three vampires. “Hold. I recognize you as our legendary ancients.” He did his best to pour awe and respect into his voice.
The three imposters stumbled to a halt, giving him time to show the last image to his brothers, that of the vampire who had been heading straight at him.This one is a very poor replica of Nicu. His hair is likely supposed to be black—you know, that absence of color. Looks gray to me and as if it has never been washed. I swear there are maggots in it.
