SNAP: The World Unfolds (13 page)

“Thank you. It looks like a nice day,” I gestured to the window. She had a strange cast to her eyes. “Did I upset something? I just pulled the drapes back a little.”

“No, no,” she shook her head. “It’s just that most of our guests are...” she caught herself and changed it to “don’t want to see the sun. Do you need any help with bathing or dressing?”

“No. I’m going to take a quick shower and maybe put on some casual clothes. I thought I might go down to see where the fishing spots are along the river.”

She smiled and her face lost its wary look. “It’s a very pretty river. Cold. That’s what makes the fishes so strong.” Her slight accent and use of an odd plural delighted me.

It took less that fifteen minutes to shower, throw on a pair of jean and a sweater—packed because I’m just too much of a Left Coast girl at heart—and head downstairs. One of the maids was in the hall, asked if I wanted any food and left to tell the cook about my request for scrambled eggs and bacon. I stuck my head out the French doors in the dining room while waiting for breakfast—at 3 in the afternoon—to check the temperature and spotted the demon from last night who waved. Did they ever sleep? Or eat? I’d never seen one who wasn’t tidy and groomed in his black suit.
I finished eating and went to look for Sandor.

He was in a small room off the foyer. It was filled with gun racks and cabinets that held, what? ammunition? knives? rocket launchers, for all I knew. The demon was cleaning a gun and had a clip of
very
shiny bullets on the table, ready to load. He looked up as I came in and his relaxed expression hardened. Did he not like me? I wasn’t sure that demons had any emotions.

“Am I interrupting anything?”

“Not at all,” he said, but his forced smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Did you need something?”

“I thought I might go down to the river. You said yesterday that some of the regulars go fishing during their visits here. Am I allowed to do that?”

Sandor choked back a grunt. Was he angry? Did he find me funny? “You don’t have to ask me for permission for anything,” and I realized that strange sound was the edge of a chuckle. Maybe demons did have a sense of humor. “We’re here to do whatever we’re asked or told to do.”

“Oh. Well, you guys always seem to be around when I end up in trouble so I don’t know whether to think of you as babysitters or bodyguards.”

This time, it was a small laugh. I was glad I could amuse a demon.

“We’re a little of both,” Sandor’s eyes slitted in a grin. “We’ve been instructed to watch you and keep you out of trouble, but we’re not allowed to tell you what you can or can’t do.”

“Since I’m not on a vampire schedule, I would like to be outside a little. Is it a long walk to the river?”

“Not too far,” he said as he finished wiping the gun. He slid the clip in with a snick and started tidying up. “I’ll take you down now.”

“I didn’t mean to make you stop what you’re doing. If you tell me where the path is, I can find it. Are some of the other regulars down there?”

“Two of the men took off about noon with a packed lunch and gear. I haven’t seen them come back so I guess they’re still at the river. But, yes, I do have to go with you.” This must be the babysitter part. We headed out to the terrace, down the broad steps and across the vast lawn toward the part of the forest I could see from my bedroom window.

Sandor let me set a pace that was a comfortable walk and left me with enough breath to talk, which was good. He’d become friendlier in the gun room and I planned to keep the conversation doors open.

“Have you worked for the Baron long?” As a beginning, it stunk, but beyond being some weird damsel in distress, I hadn’t had much repartee with demons. This time his grunt was a true grunt.

“We don’t exactly work for the Baron,” Sandor said. “Our families have pacts of non-aggression and friendship that go back centuries. I suppose in regular terms, we’re more allied tribes or vassals.”

“Vassals? That kind of relationship went out with the dark ages.” I was stunned that he could describe himself in a way that I been taught was one step removed from slavery.

“Well, our relations or pacts or whatever you want to call them, almost date back to your dark ages,” his voice was patient. “One thing you’ll have to remember is that our,” and here he waved his arm across the landscape, “ways of living and views of the world are different from yours. Being around for centuries gives a very different perspective.”

“Are demons..um...uh...” I started again. “Do demons live as long as vampires?” What a lame question!

“No. We live longer that regulars, but aren’t immortal. We respect the agreements our ancestors made with the Baron and his family so we’re trained to spend our lives as, what did you call it?, a combination of babysitter and bodyguard? It’s what we do. It’s what we know.”

We had reached the edge of the forest and suddenly last night’s dream and the heart-stopping noises came rushing back. I gasped and couldn’t take a step into the trees.

“Are you alright?” Sandor asked, whipping his head around for any sight or scent that he may have missed.

I panted, then got a grip and took a couple of deep breaths. “Yes, I’m OK. It’s just a dream I had last night. One of your demons had to come in and wake me.”

“I did hear about that. He said you hit him and it surprised him ...”

“Yes. Well. It was only a pillow. I think in my dream it was a huge and heavy branch. I was hearing the most God-awful noises. Grunting then howls. But the worst was the snuffling, it got louder and louder. Whatever was making the sound was getting closer and closer. I whirled around, picked up a branch and swung it...and hit the guard with a pillow.

“I can understand the howls, I’m sure there must be wolves in these forests, but the grunting and snuffling I couldn’t place. It sort of sounded like giant hogs, like I heard at a county fair once. But that doesn’t make sense. There can’t be county fair hogs in the Hungarian forests.”

“Wild,” he finally said. “My English is good, but I suddenly couldn’t come up with that word. There are wild—feral—pigs all through the woods. Many. many years ago, when the Huszars and Kandeskys were still taking people, their farm animals were left with no one to care for them. Horses, cows, goats, pigs...they all began to fend for themselves. Cows and horses didn’t do too well. Some were recaptured by us and by the few peasants left, but many were eaten by wolves. Goats and sheep, too.

“But pigs; pigs are smart. They found plenty to eat and grew strong. They figured out how to hide in the bushes and brambles. Wolves left them alone. There was a lot easier food for them to get. The pigs grew bigger, stronger, more wily. And now, they’re predators and run with the wolves...the werewolves, too.”

“Wait, wait...there’re werewolves out there?”

“There are a few. They’ve allied themselves with the Huszars, just like the feral pigs, and both of them are very dangerous.”

“So the Kandeskys allied with the demons and the Huszars took on the wolves and pigs? This is just...” I shook my head. My language deserted me faster that Sandor’s English left him. I was accepting vampires, beginning to understand demons, but wolves? Pigs? This was crazy talk.

“The Huszars may be nasty, but they’re not all stupid,” Sandor said. “Do you still want to go to the river? If you do, we need to move a little faster. You don’t want to be in the forest when night comes.”

Talk of pigs—not to mention the Huszars and their friendlies—was making me nervous, but I didn’t want to give in to fear. And I really did want to see the river; it might be something normal.

“Let’s keep going, then,” bravado all the way. “Why would somebody use wild pigs?”

“Outside of the fact that they’re vicious and good watch animals—their eyesight isn’t too good but their senses of hearing and smell are almost better than a dog’s—they forage for themselves and dig up truffles. The Huszars make a lot of money from truffles. They sell them as the big auction in France and Italy.”

I had to stop this conversation. It was cycling down to a place where I couldn’t follow. Just then, I saw the river through a break in the trees. It was pretty. And it looked cold. It came rushing down a set of rapids then widened out to a fast-moving stream. Two men in waders with fishing rods stood just out from the edge, not talking but casting. They’d reel in and cast again, placing the flies just down from the end of the rapids and watching their lines float for several yards before reeling in and casting again.

“We are different,” Sandor whispered, maybe to me, maybe to himself. “This looks crazy and boring to me. How can one just stand there, throwing out that line over and over.”

“I don’t think a lot of people like fly-fishing,” I was in a place of defending something I thought was pretty boring, too. “But then I don’t think everybody likes wrestling or bowling or skeet shooting or...”

“Yes, I see,” the demon said. “It looks like they’re getting ready to leave.”

The two men couldn’t have heard us over the rushing water, but they were pulling up their lines and the baskets they had in the water. Once they had them on the bank, they opened the baskets and began holding up fish. They took turns, one holding a fish and the other taking a picture. Then they tossed the fish back in the river and hauled another one out of the baskets for a picture.

Watching them, I realized that from Sandor’s perspective, this was true craziness. They spent all day catching the fish, then just let them go. Didn’t even keep one to eat.

The two were producers. The Baron always asked a few regulars from the entertainment business to stay with him a couple of times a year. The invitations were highly regarded. Getting one, or better yet a second, could assure that casting and production would go smoothly for the next picture.

They came up the bank and we set off for the castle, Sandor in the rear. The easiness that the demon and I developed on the way down to the river evaporated and Sandor was back to his silent bodyguard role. As we wound through the trees, I suddenly noticed Sandor slowing and sniffing. His eyes were wary. I gave him a quizzical look and he shook his head slightly. “We need to hurry just a bit,” he said. “The Baron will want everybody changed and ready by eight.”

As we came up to the mudroom door, where the producers would take off all their gear, Sandor motioned me to follow him into the hall.

“What did you see?” I asked, a little of my earlier unease coming back.

“It’s what I smelled,” the demon looked stern. “Something’s up. The pigs are running. Your presence has really stirred the pot with the Huszars. No after-dark strolls tonight, a guard on your door and patrols on all the terraces until we can figure this out. Please wait.”

He took his cell out, gave a quick order in Hungarian and another demon came through the doorway.

“He’ll escort you to your room to get ready for dinner. Lisbet will be with you to help you dress. I’ll alert Jean-Louis and he’ll take you down to dinner.”

Oh, this was just great. Now I was getting spooked and the vampire who I thought was becoming interested in me may not be more than an attractive fill-in for the demon babysitter.

Had I thrown myself in with the vampires for all the wrong reasons?

When my escort opened my door, Lisbet was building a fire. She turned and her look said she’d been told to keep an eye out. “Good evening. Did you enjoy your walk? Do you want to bathe now?”

My shower had been more to wake me up and a soak sounded good now. It could relax me and erase the last of the dream.

“Please. And I think the black and white tonight.” I sank into water that smelled like spring in the lavender fields of France and closed my eyes. A field of lavender was far preferable to dark Hungarian forests.