A Tale of Two Vampires

“There are many lovely sites in this region,” Imogen agreed.

I eyed her. There was an air of fragility about her that intrigued me, and I wondered if there was any way I could capture that on film. She was certainly lovely enough to model, but a sense of tension seemed to wind around her, as if she were only just being kept from fracturing into a million pieces. It prompted me to ask, “Would you… This is going to sound awfully presumptuous, but would you be willing to let me take a few pictures of you? I can’t pay you, I’m afraid, but I’d be happy to give you copies of any of the prints you want.”

Imogen looked startled for a moment before smiling. “How very sweet of you. It’s been…oh, so long I can’t even remember when someone has asked to take my photo. I would be delighted to, although we are only in St. Andras for five days. We are taking a bit of a holiday, you see, and keeping only short hours for the fair until we move on.”

“Well…” I glanced at the skyline. It was dusk, and a dark purple had started to creep across the sky from the inky black silhouette of the mountains. “I know you’re busy tonight with your pretty stone things—”

“Rune stones,” she interrupted, touching with reverence a deep purple stone bearing an etched symbol on one side. “I have an affinity for them, although I do occasionally read palms, as well.”

“Ah. Rune stones. Interesting.”

She flipped a long curl over her shoulder. “Right now Fran is doing palm reading because she and Benedikt are…er…helping here at the fair. Benedikt is my brother,” she added, turning to Gretl. “Do you remember meeting him in Vienna that time in the 1990s?”

Gretl’s round face lit up, a faint blush pinkening her cheeks. “Who could forget him? He was absolutely gorgeous. And he’s here?”

“Yes, with Francesca. They were married a few months ago. You’ll like Fran—she’s very sweet, and she absolutely adores Benedikt, although she teases him mercilessly about the fact that women are prone to swooning over him.”

“Wow. He must still be quite the looker. You guys must have some really great genes,” I commented before steering the conversation back to where I wanted it. “I know you’re busy tonight, but perhaps I could shoot you tomorrow, if you are free.”

“Benedikt is very handsome, yes,” Imogen answered, ignoring my attempts to steer her. “He resembles our father in that way.”

The sense of tension in her increased, and I noticed she glanced over my shoulder, a flicker of pain passing across her face.

“Your father must have been a very handsome man, then,” Gretl said with a dreamy look in her eyes that made me want to giggle. “I don’t believe you’ve ever mentioned him before.”

“He died when I was twenty-two,” Imogen said swiftly, her gaze now on the stones that she stroked with long, sensitive fingers. “He was destroyed by his two half brothers.”

“Oh, how horrible!” both Gretl and I said.

“It was very tragic. He inherited our family home, and they obviously coveted that, so they lured him into a forest one summer night and destroyed him.” She stopped, obviously hesitant to go on. “It is why I am here, as a matter of fact. The anniversary of his…death…is a few days from now. I try to make a pilgrimage to this area whenever I can, to remember happier times.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said as Gretl murmured sympathetic platitudes. “I should never have brought up the subject of genes.”

She sniffed back a few unshed tears. “No, no, I don’t mind talking about Papa. Before that horrible night, he was a good man, an excellent father, and I loved him very dearly.”

“You must miss him terribly. I assume they caught his killers?”

“They disappeared before they could be tried, unfortunately.”

“That’s so sad. But I’m sure that wherever your father is, he knows how much you loved him.”

She looked up at me, her eyes wide with surprise. “Wherever he is?”

I gestured toward the sky. “You know, looking down on you.” I had no idea what religion, if any, she subscribed to, so I didn’t want to be too specific in my attempt to provide her with a little comfort.

Imogen gave a delicate little shrug, returning her gaze to the stones. “Ah. Yes, I’m sure he does. At one time I had hope that Ben and I would find Nikola’s brothers, but we were unable to do so.”

“Nikola is your father?” I couldn’t help but ask. I didn’t want to be nosy, but my curiosity got the better of me, and she honestly didn’t seem to mind talking about him, so long as we kept off the subject of his manner of death.

“Yes.” She set down a stone she was stroking and looked up again at us, a little smile lighting her pure blue eyes. “Nikola Czerny, the fifth Baron von Shey.”

I blinked at her. “Your dad was a baron? A real baron? Does that make you anything?”

She laughed aloud, patting my arm for a second. “Yes, it makes me a woman.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I apologized again, blushing a little at the stupidity that had emerged from my mouth. “You have to excuse me—I’m an idiot. But I’ve never met someone who was from the aristocracy before.”

“Most of the nobility lost their power in Austria almost a hundred years ago,” Gretl said gently, giving me a little squeeze on my arm. “Although I, too, did not know that Imogen’s father was a baron. The title passed to Ben?”

“No, it didn’t,” Imogen said, her expression darkening for a moment before she gave us both a bright smile. “It was all a long time ago, and we have much more pleasant things to speak of, yes?”

It was a not very subtle hint that she was through talking about the subject.

“Of course,” Gretl said soothingly, and made a date for the next afternoon to have tea and pastries.

“I hate to bother you if you’re busy,” I said, not sure whether she had responded to my request for a photo session because she was polite or because she really wanted me to take some pictures of her. “If so, then I will totally understand. But if not, I’m sure we can find somewhere locally that would make a good backdrop.”

Imogen looked up with a genuine smile. “No, I am not too busy. I would love to be your model.”

“Oh, you must go to Andras Castle!” Gretl said, clasping my arm. “It would make a lovely setting—”

“No,” Imogen said quickly, her expression as brittle as ice. I blinked at the change in her demeanor. She suddenly relaxed and gave a forced little laugh. “I’m sorry. You must think me very odd, but Andras Castle holds…bad memories for me. I would prefer not to go there again.”

“Of course we won’t use it,” I reassured her, curious at such a strong reaction to a ruined castle. Perhaps she’d been frightened there—when Gretl had told me about the ruins, she said that it had a bad reputation by the locals as being unpleasant to visit. “There are lots of other places around here we could use.”

“The rose gardens?” Gretl suggested. “The town hall? The church? It is quite old.”

“Mmm…” I scrunched up my nose as I thought. “To be honest, I’d like to try something a little different as a backdrop for Imogen. Something to contrast with all that fair delicacy.”

Imogen laughed, her expression once again changing like quicksilver. “I’m sure you meant that as a compliment, but I assure you, I am anything but delicate. Fair, yes—I got that from my mother. But delicate? No.”

“Appearances are often deceiving,” I agreed. “I think I’d like to see you set against somewhere dark and gritty. That would make for some wonderful depth to the picture.”

“As you like. You’re the expert,” Imogen said with another of her little shrugs.

“I’m far from that, but I see you…” I narrowed my eyes and thought about an image of Imogen against the ruined castle. That would have been ideal, but there were other places that I could use. “Oh! Gretl told me about this haunted forest near here—”

“No!” Imogen all but squawked, drawing attention from the people moving past us. She shot them a reassuring smile before turning it on me. “I’m so sorry. You must think me terribly emotional, but if you are talking about the Zauberwald, the woods near Andras Castle, then I must again say no. It is not a good place, that forest. I will not step foot in it again.”

“I didn’t mean to suggest somewhere that would make you feel uncomfortable.” I thought for a moment. “I don’t really know many places around here, but surely there must be some other location we can use that would give the same sense of—oh, I don’t know—something otherworldly.”

“Otherworldly? Yes, of course I can do that.” She shot me a startled glance that quickly turned speculative, then amused, as if we shared a secret, something that struck me as hugely odd. I had only just met her—how could we share a secret? When Gretl turned to greet an acquaintance who had called her name, Imogen leaned over to me, saying with a little nod at Gretl’s back, “I had no idea you were not mundane.”

“Er…” Mundane? Was she making a dig at Gretl? I bristled righteously in defense of a much-loved cousin. “I’ve always thought of myself as something…different, but just because Gretl chose a more traditional path in life doesn’t mean she’s not a wonderful person.”

“Of course she’s wonderful. She’s been my friend for many years.” Imogen smiled and squeezed my arm briefly. “And we all feel different at some time or other, don’t we? At least until we settle in with our own kind. But who exactly are you? I realize it is rude to just come right out and ask you, but I’m sure you do not wish to speak of your true nature in front of dear Gretl.”

I blinked at her, once again taken aback and unsure of how to respond, but luckily Gretl finished her chat and turned back to us, so I was content to simply smile in answer to Imogen’s wink, and made a mental note to ask Gretl or her eldest daughter, Erica, to accompany me on the photo shoot. It was becoming clear that Imogen was a few apples shy of spiced cider. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">