Debt To Collect

Life has its ups and downs... and there are times when you fall deeper than hell.

Debt To Collect

Another week had passed and since the conversation in the kitchen, Alex and Rolo's relationship had gone from bad to worse. I tried to ask them about it, first to the wolf, but he shrugged and said he didn't understand what I was talking about, they never got along. In the case of Rolo, I didn't even get a reply, the boy simply retreated to another room.

I decided to let them sort it out.

"Do you want to go to town?", I asked Ábel, "It's a problem that you have to wear my clothes all the time."

(Which were also too big for him. The only fitting thing was the outgrown boots that Alex gave him, which were fine if he stuffed a sock in the front)

Ábel spent half an hour proving that he didn't really need clothes when I had enough and dragged him to the bus stop.

Sighing deeply, I thought I should have stolen more from the Crosspherat to buy a car too. We got on the bus, which started to slowly head towards the city of Pécs.

Since we still couldn't afford new clothes, we popped into one of the second-hand shops.

Ábel looked at the different pieces of clothing with huge eyes as we walked through the rows. I sent him with some clothes to one of the fitting rooms, and in the meantime, I found myself a cool belt that I liked so much that I decided I had to have it.

In the end, Ábel just chose a pair of worn jeans a black t-shirt, and a knitted sweater over it for the colder days.

I told him he needed more clothes, but he refused to give in and put the rest back.

I shrugged. After that, I thought about looking for shoes, but when he saw the prices at Deichmann, I thought he was going to have a heart attack. I argued in vain that the shoes could be brought back here if we had an issue with them, but he ran out of the shop.

Since we got off cheaply enough, I decided to have a late breakfast at one of the restaurants in the Arcade. He only asked for fries, but I ordered him a strawberry shake to go with it. I settled for the shake alongside my usual four cheeseburgers and a large portion of fries.

It was expensive, but I decided I could afford it for once, and what Alex doesn't know, won't hurt him — so I set about destroying the evidence.

Ábel was surprised by the intoxicating taste of the junk food — he repeatedly complimented the lousy fries, which, had he known how they prepared them, he would certainly not have eaten. But, I repeat: what we don't know won't hurt us.

As it was the weekend, the bus only came once every hour, so I decided to show the kid around the city. So, we walked up to Széchenyi Square. Ábel was amazed and stared, as he had never seen so many humans in one place in his life.

Sometimes he sniffed the air: there were so many new, unfamiliar smells in a place like this! I showed him the mosque and told him that the Turks had built it during their rule. But he wasn't really interested in human history, it seems.

In the square stood a bubble man — you know, a bubble man. He had a bucket that he dipped his string into and when he pulled it in the air he made huge bubbles.

Ábel was simply dazzled by the soap bubbles. Even after fifteen minutes, I could barely drag him to the ice cream shop. I ordered a lemon cheesecake flavored for myself, and Ábel ordered a yogurt-flavored for himself — only after he asked me whispering what exactly yogurt was.

Some monsters looked at me from the benches rather strangely, which didn't escape Ábel's attention. He stomped over to them and then stamped on the bench with such force — right next to one of the boys' feet, by the way — that the wood gave way with a loud bang and a long crack started.

 "What are you looking at?" he asked, grimacing, with his chin up, and I thought I saw a deceptive resemblance between him and a bandit. Seriously, all he needed was a metal baseball bat in his hand.

"N-Nothing," stammered one of them, but Ábel probably didn't like the tone of his voice, because he even got a grunt from him.

"You want trouble?" he leaned closer to them.

"Ábel..."

"If you ever look at my brother like that again, I'll beat the shit out of you..."

"Ábel..."

"I swear I'll skin you slowly, and then..."

"Ábel!" I raised my voice a little, and he immediately snapped his head at me.

"Yes?" she asked sweetly.

"That's enough," I sighed.

I nodded towards the monsters that had turned as white as a sheet of paper and started walking.

Ábel sent them another killing glance, letting them know that the next time they met he would surely kill them.

"Have I caused trouble again?" he asked fearfully when he caught up to me.

I just waved my hand. Since we had made it to the bus, and Ábel had got us a seat with his bandit look, I thought he could be really useful sometimes. Besides, sitting next to him, no one dared to address me, and anyone who so much as glanced at me received a piercing glance from the boy next to me.

With his unruly light brown hair — which had probably never seen a comb before — and dark circles under his malevolent eyes, he could seriously outrun the authority of even the most brutal terrorists.

"Thank you," he said suddenly.

"What for?", I raised my eyebrows.

"Everything," he grinned.

I smiled. "Just shut up."

He laughed and my smile widened. I ruffled his hair and continued to take in the scenery passing by. When we got home, he retired to his room, claiming he felt weak after our tour around the city.

I didn't know the true meaning of those words back then. They were meant as a goodbye.

(...)

I woke up early the next morning — Rolo was still sound asleep.

I had a strange feeling. I opened the door. I just felt I had to do it because something important was lurking behind it. At the same time, deep in my heart, there was a doubt — do I really want to open it?

I opened it and stepped inside. Ábel was lying in his bed. Normally I would have turned away, but at that moment I realized what that unusual feeling was. Ábel's heart was not beating — I could not hear it.

I was slowly getting used to the deep thumping that I had discovered from time to time even in my dreams. Now all I could hear were the short, calm beats of Rolo and the nervous pounding of my own heart.

I walked over to his bed and, oblivious to the matter, started to wake him.

"Ábel..." I said, "Ábel, wake up!"

I touched his skin: it felt ice cold compared to my own.

"Abel..."

His lips were set in a sweet smile, and his face was calm as if he were really asleep — but he was no longer moving, breathing, or living.

As I turned him over, Jo's necklace slipped from his fingers.

Immediately, without thinking, I tore the skin on my finger and stuck it in his mouth.

Come on, come on, come on! Nothing.

I then immediately began pounding on his chest.

Alex rushed into the room — he could hear me screaming from the other room, but I was trying to bring Ábel back to life without a second thought.

"Alex..." I whispered, not stopping the heart massage for a moment. "Ábel won't wake up!"

The wolf sighed shakily and stepped closer. I looked up at him, confused, and then my eyes widened. It was written on his face: he knew.

"The poison... his own poison had killed him," he said.

"Wake up!" I ordered the boy, ignoring Alex's statement.

 "Shay," the wolf whispered my name in a sympathetic voice, putting one hand on my shoulder.

I froze for a moment, and I think my mind slowly began to accept that the boy would not wake up again.

"Why?", I asked in an alarmingly low voice, "Why didn't you tell me?!"

The wolf could not look me in the eye.

"Answer me!", I growled.

"I promised him. He made me swear not to tell you," he replied, barely audible.

I looked back at Ábel's figure and for a moment I thought I saw Jo in his place.

"Fucking hell!" I punched Ábel in the chest in a helpless rage.

The boy's eyes suddenly snapped open, then narrowed again. He gasped for air. I heard the weak, trembling thumps again.

For a second I couldn't believe I'd actually made it. Then I quickly had him on my back. I got up, stared at Alex for a moment, then pushed him off. Rolo stood stunned in the doorway.

After that I left everyone behind. I just ran and ran and ran, repeating to Ábel, like a mantra, that everything was going to be okay and I was going to save him.

He just had to live, I just couldn't let him die, I couldn't stand by and watch another person die after Jo. I knew that if Ábel died now and the last thing Jo left me disappeared, I would go mad.

I reached a house where a man was getting out of his car on his way home. In the next moment, I was standing next to the car, put Ábel in the passenger seat and strapped him in with one swift movement.

"What are you doing?!" the man growled.

The next moment it was too late. I stood in front of him, snatched the key out of his hand and shoved him out of the way.

"I'm sorry, but this boy is dying," I said and drove off.

I had no idea how long it took me to get to the hospital, I just knew I had never driven so fast in my life.

I kicked in the door of the ward where the doctor was. He was surprised, perhaps opening his mouth to scold me for interrupting. In the end, he said nothing, perhaps he could see something in my face that made him unable to speak. His gaze wandered slowly from me to the boy.

He motioned for me to put him on one of the beds, and when I had done so, he wanted to send me out, but I was anxious to let him know what exactly was the matter with Ábel, by muttering incomprehensible things. I'm not sure if he understood anything I had conjured up, but he finally nodded and repeated his request to be left alone with the patient.

The doctor spent a very long time in there, it was nearly eleven o'clock when he first left. I immediately jumped up and began to question him. He told me that he had extracted the vampire fangs and had stabilized the boy as much as he could.

He was silent for a moment and then added that he didn't think he would wake up again.

I ran out of the hospital.

(...)

Hours later I was still unable to calm down. I just felt the walls were closing in, and the next moment they would squeeze all the life out of me if I stayed in the house. I walked slowly along Parcsin Street and then passed the school. When I got to the playground, I got into one of the squeaky swings.

I didn't know the kid very well. I didn't even know he existed until a few months ago. I shouldn't have been moved by his condition — I was still feeling like shit.

Life is a sad thing. It gives you what you want but doesn't really. You get a chance to be happy, you get to taste drops of joy, only to lose it the next moment. Just to make you suffer more, and long for a taste that you can no longer have.

It was the same with Ábel. He had suffered all his life so that he could have a few weeks when he didn't have to dread anything anymore. And then before he could really enjoy it, before he could really savour the taste of freedom and happiness, he lost everything. It just made me sad that life had betrayed him so cruelly. Just like Jo...

I felt something cold and damp on my arm: it started to rain. July's freezing raindrops. They dived down from the sky to experience for a few moments what it felt like to soar, exhilarated, unaware that as soon as they touched the ground, that would be their death. It is also possible that they did know about it, they just didn't care. Maybe it was worth dying for a few seconds of exhilarating flight.

For a few moments, I silently marveled at this gentle surrender.

"You always did like the rain," I heard the familiar voice.

The swing next to me creaked as Des sat in it. I shrugged but didn't look towards him. At that moment, the coolness of the teardrops falling on my face felt really good.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Abel is dying," I said.

"Really?" he asked with undisguised joy.

I sent him a piercing look. Des was the kind of man who, if he could, stomped into the spirit of others with steel-toed boots.

"Not that I mind so much," I growled, "I'm just sorry there's nothing I can do."

Those days, so many people were dying around me and there was nothing I could do.

"Is that why you agreed to open a hospital in your house?"

"Maybe," I muttered, "I don't know..."

We were silent for a while.

"Did you see the article?" he asked.

I glanced at him, then nodded with a worried sigh.

"It wouldn't be very beneficial if your identity were to be revealed," he stated, "although I think that's becoming inevitable."

"I don't particularly care," I sighed again.

Des chuckled. "I was almost expecting you to say that."

I shrugged.

My brother opened his mouth to speak, but the next moment he was gone. Just as the playground disappeared, I suddenly found myself in front of the now familiar wrought iron gate. I looked around in confusion. How had I got here?

The iron gate creaked open and I saw the tall, slender figure of Gironde.

"Good afternoon, Shaytan," he greeted me, and lifting his top hat from his head he bowed, "Please come in."

"How did I get here?", I asked him, but I moved towards him.

"Do you remember the little favour I did you?" he asked, "Now I want to collect your debt."

I froze for a moment, then I started walking again. Why was I surprised? I knew that this moment would come one day... — although, truth be told, even in my worst nightmares I had never imagined it would come so soon.

I had a very, very bad feeling, but I followed the Necromancer as he strolled along — I just knew I had no choice.

In the living room, he offered me one of his chairs and then offered me bitter cakes and tea. I declined and waited anxiously to see what he wanted.

"I hear you're an informant, aren't you?" he smiled.

That was a really disturbing smile. I shrugged.

"I see. So, can you get me some sensitive information..."

"That depends," I interrupted, "I'm not omnipotent."

"Well, what would you say then," he said, his grin widening, showing his sharp teeth, "if I told you you had no choice?"

"I'd say you can't give me orders," I answered icily.

He giggled. "Of course, of course. You're right, I really can't order you."

"Now that we've cleared things, you'd better spit out what you want," I growled. "I'm not in a good mood."

"Well, that's not too surprising, considering it's only twelve hours since you found out your half-brother is about to pass away," he remarked.

"I'd rather not know where you got that from."

Gironde Mehisto chuckled again. "I'm a necromancer..."

"And I'm really curious to know how long you're going to drag this out..." I interjected.

"Why is it wrong that I like your company?" he propped his chin on his clasped fingers.

"The feeling is not mutual."

"Too bad," he laughed, "but let's get down to business."

At last!

 "I was wondering if you could tell me exactly where a certain Dorián Vincze is," he said.

"Dorián Vincze?", I asked back.

"It's not that easy, I couldn't even find him myself, and I suppose you've guessed how extensive my magical knowledge is," he grinned as if amused by the failure, "I did manage to find out that he is currently in this city and that his year of birth is 1993."

"Then what makes you think I'll succeed?" I raised an eyebrow, "I can't even do magic."

"Magic is not very effective when used against someone who can also cast spells. You have connections that I don't," he sighed, "I trust you will succeed."

"You'll tell me why you need the guy, though?", I asked.

"Of course", he smiled, "I want to kill him."

"And why do you want to kill him?", I frowned, "Do you want his body or his soul?"

"Oh, nothing like that," he said, slightly wistful, yet resigned, "The kid simply broke the unwritten rules, and he must die."

"Unwritten rules?" I asked back incredulously, "Do necromancers have rules?"

"Well, few of them, it's true, but there are a few," he replied, twirling one of his blood-red locks absentmindedly, "Of these, if you break even one, you die. He had broken all three."

I stared curiously at the Necromancer, and he sighed. "All right, all right, you look like you're dying of curiosity! Go ahead and ask away! I've always had a weakness for curious and very capricious mixed-bloods..." he added in a barely whisper, but he got a piercing look anyway.

"What are these rules?"

"But that's your last question," he stated and then began to answer, "Our first rule is that we can only take possession of the body of a creature with whom we have a contract. The second: we can only give one life at the cost of another. Third: we cannot change fate for our own interest, that is, we cannot kill a creature who has not yet fulfilled his destiny."

"The second rule," I said with an elemental rage, "can you really bring someone back from the dead at the cost of another life? Then why are you not willing to bring Jo back to me?!"

I would have screamed for a while, but he made the words stuck on my lips.

"The person we bring back to life will never be the same person again, Shaytan," he replied, "The person I would bring back to you would no longer be your loved one."

There was something in his eyes that made me think he was telling me the absolute truth — even if I didn't understand it exactly.

"What do you mean?"

"If you find out who Dorián Vincze is, I'm sure you'll get an answer to that question too," he smiled.

"Why can't you just tell me?", I frowned, "It would be easier."

The Necromancer's honeyed smile widened. "Where would be the excitement in knowing everything?"

Déjà vu. I really, really hated that feeling.

"I exceptionally hate you when you say that," I remarked, and he laughed mirthlessly.

"Come on," he said, "wouldn't it be boring if I told you everything? I used to think monsters needed a challenge."

Whenever I talked to the Necromancer, I always felt like a sulky kid trying to convince the centuries-old sage of his truth. It wasn't easy.

Though his face looked young, Gironde himself seemed old, thanks to his much-experienced eyes. When one looked at him, one simply could not tell how long he had been walking in this world. He was always patient — except when I woke him up, but who likes waking up? — and he was careful to smile. That sly, sideways smile, the predatory smile, or even the honeyed smile — such smiles could start wars and, indeed, one would willingly sell one's soul for one. But isn't that the point?

"So, may I ask you this favour?" he made sure.

I nodded. "I'll do what I can."

"I'm grateful, it's a real pleasure doing business with you", he grinned, and I felt myself getting into an incredible mess again.

"May I read your fortune for you, my dear?" he asked gently, and in return, I tried to murder him with my eyes.

"No, don't even try, thank you," I growled.

Gironde frowned a little. "It's a pity."

I stood up, and slowly the Necromancer showed some inclination to escort me out of his realm.

The ominous mist was still hanging over the graves, even though it was only late afternoon. The matter must indeed be important if the Necromancer had brought me here in his spare time. On reaching the iron gate, the man paused — I was wondering if he could or could not cross the boundary of the cemetery.

"Well, I wish you a frightful night in advance, my dear Shaytan," he grinned.

I muttered something unintelligible under my breath and then started walking home. Why can't he just send me back with magic?

By the time I glanced back, the iron gates had closed and the figure of the Necromancer had disappeared — though I could have sworn I could still hear his merry giggles and humming.

When Gironde returned to his sitting room, Nancy was waiting for him. Gironde smiled sweetly and greeted his wife, then asked what she thought of his latest guest. The skull was silent.

"Would you mind if I made one last prediction before going to bed?"

His wife still showed no inclination to answer.

"All right, sweetheart" Gironde snapped his fingers, "So, tarot it is? I know it's your favourite."

He chuckled, then pulled out a card from the rest.

At the top of the card was the number XII. The male figure on the card was hanging upside down from a tree by his feet. In this awkward position, the man had one leg crossed over the other, holding a flute in his hand.

"The twelfth," declared the Necromancer. "The Hanged Man."

Gironde Mehisto thought for a moment, then his lips curled into a smile again.