Marcilla A Modern Fantasy

MARCILLA:

I walked down the desert highway, under a canopy of stars so bright that they might have seared my eyes if I'd looked at them too long. In the east, far to my right, the thinnest sliver of moon glimmered dully. A cool breeze brushed my face. It was beautiful.

I had begun walking soon after dark, and had already come a fair way. I wasn't in any particular hurry, and was not walking particularly fast, but the open spaces always put a spring in my step that the concrete canyons of cities never do. My only luggage was my light rucksack thrown over my shoulder, so I wasn't heavily burdened. As I walked, I stretched my arms out and threw my head back, luxuriating in the feel of being out in the open. It had been far too long.

I almost missed the pale wash of headlights when they flickered over me from behind, only my shadow on the road alerting me to the car coming up behind. Instinctively -- I'd been catching rides for so long -- I stuck out my thumb, and immediately regretted it. Oh, well, whoever it was would probably not stop anyway.

I was wrong. The car -- a dark compact hatchback with an engine whose sound was little more than a barely audible murmur -- slid to a stop just ahead. Two steps and I was standing beside the front door.

"Where to, young lady?" someone asked from inside.

I bent to look in. The only occupant, the driver, was in shadow, but then moved forward just enough so that reflected headlights faintly illuminated his face. "Where do you want to go?"

My mind flashed back briefly to the map I'd looked at on my phone last night, and picked -- at random -- a tiny dot I'd seen on it, far to the north, and only noticed it due to the name. "I'm going to Broken Rock." He'd probably never heard of it and in any case I was sure he wouldn't be going that far.

"All right," he said, to my astonishment. "Get in, then."

There was not much I could do without looking like an idiot, so I got into the front left seat. The driver waited for me to pull the seat belt over my shoulder before he let in the clutch and we moved off. "Broken Rock is more than three hundred kilometres away," he said casually. "Were you planning on walking all that way?"

I shrugged, glancing covertly at him out of the corner of my eye. He didn't look particularly like a potential serial killer of lonely hitchhiking women; medium height, slightly overweight, slightly balding, hunched forward over the steering wheel as he drove. Of course, many serial killers look perfectly ordinary, but it's not as though I didn't know how to defend myself if necessary.

"I would've got a ride eventually," I said. "After all, you gave me one, didn't you?"

He snorted but made no further comment. For that I was grateful; I've had far too many rides with people who wouldn't stop asking questions about why a young and pretty woman was out by herself at night and it usually led to them pressing their attentions on me. Often I'd had to take drastic action when I hadn't wanted to.

The car speeded up, the engine settling into a deep rumble which made me realise it was a lot more powerful than it looked. The desert flashed past on either side into a blur. I couldn't decide if we were over the speed limit or if he even cared.

Of course I had no intention of carrying on as his passenger to Broken Rock. I hadn't the faintest idea what the place was like or any plans to go there. And I was beginning to regret getting in the car in the first place.

I didn't actually want to do him any injustice. I wasn't even hungry; I'd fed before starting. I just wanted to be out of the car and by myself again.

I saw the lights of a town over on the eastern horizon, far to our right. Up ahead, at the very limit of the car's headlights, the highway split, the right hand road curving away in the town's general direction. I didn't know what the town was, and didn't care. It was just an opportunity to get away from the car.

"You know," I said conversationally, "I've changed my mind. Could you please drop me off here? I'll stop by at that town for a day or two."

He said nothing, just pressed down on the accelerator. The car leaped forward even faster. The turn-off flashed past and was gone.

"I said," I repeated, louder, "Can you please stop and..."

"I heard what you said," he replied shortly, without even looking at me. We were going so fast that the headlights seemed pale knifes carving a way through the solid mass of the night.

I was now worried, very worried indeed. Whatever he was up to, I had no desire to have any part of it. How could I have ever imagined him to be harmless? All right, I thought grimly, here goes.

"Why aren't you stopping?" I asked. "I just want to get off." I couldn't see his eyes, which were fixed on the road ahead, but I let my voice deepen and roughen, putting all that I'd learnt over the years into the tone that hopefully would make him obey for a while, long enough for me to get out. Voice had served me well once or twice in the past. "Stop. I command you. Let me out now."

"That trick won't work on me, Countess."

My heart seemed to stop, and my face went numb with shock. "Countess? You must be mistaking me for someone else."

"No I'm not," he replied. "Let's not play games. I despise games. You are Mircalla, Grӓfin von Karnstein, the last Countess Karnstein of Styria. I've been tracking you for several days."

My fingers curved into claws at the name, the name I hadn't heard in over a hundred years, the name that was once mine. I felt my fangs begin to grow and pulled them back into my jaws with strong mental effort. "If you're a Hunter," I said, trying hard to sound calm, "I have to warn you that I've been tracked by Hunters many times. And, obviously, since I'm still here, I've always won."

"I'm not a Hunter," he said, "but we know [i]all[/i] about your skill at fighting or evading them. The tricks you use are incredibly ingenious. That's one of the reasons we want you."

"We? Who is this we you talk about?"

"Haven't you guessed by now?" Still blazing down the road, he turned his head at me, and let me look into his eyes at last. And if it had not been for the habits of so many years, the iron discipline I'd had to teach myself, I'd have screamed. As it is, I gasped.

His eyes were pools of infinite space, which seemed to go on for ever. They sucked me in, pushed me between galaxies and universes, tore me through black holes and spat me out in bursts of X rays and radio noise, They plucked me, pulled me, spun me around, and dropped me in a whirlpool where everything I'd ever known, everything I'd ever been, spun around and through me. I was more than merely naked. I was nothing.

I found that I was back in my seat, shuddering. He'd stopped the car and was regarding me patiently. His eyes were almost human now, but with distant sparks inside them, as though stars dwelt in his skull.

"What do you want of me?" I asked, when I could control my breathing enough to be able to speak. "Why have you been...tracking me?"

"Yes, that." He smiled. His smile was very broad and had no humour in it at all. "You will do certain...tasks...for us, when we tell you. You can be assured these tasks are all within the scope of your normal proclivities."

I fought to control my thoughts. "And what do I get in return?"

"Remember how it felt to go out in the sun?" he asked. "Remember when you could enjoy the day? I can give you that ability again. In fact, you'll need it for what we'll tell you to do."

"I can go out in the day. The burning up thing is a myth."

"I know. But you're weakened during the day, barely able to function. You have none of your powers and abilities. You're as weak as the commonest human being. What I'm offering is your full abilities and all your power, day and night. What do you say?'

My head swam with the need surging in me at the idea. To be able to be out in the day, with all my strength, free to do as I wanted! Who could ever gainsay that? When had I last felt the sun on my face without cringing away from it instinctively? When had I last been able to go out into the daylight without feeling as though I was suffocating and that weights hung by chains from my hands and feet? And yet...

I had to know. "What if I refuse your offer? Will you destroy me?"

"Destroy you?" He seemed genuinely astonished. "Now why would I do that? I'll just drive us on and drop you off at Broken Rock, as you'd wanted. We do know others of your kind, you know, Countess. We'll just approach one of them instead. But you...you'll spend the rest of eternity wondering what might have been."

"Fine." I swallowed saliva compulsively to wet my suddenly parched throat. "All right then. I'll do it."

He nodded, as though he'd known it all along. "It won't be all bad, you know. If you're working for us, you have some measure of our protection. It isn't a bad thing, having, uh, friends like us standing behind you."

I ignored that. "What do you want me to do?"

"In here..." he reached across and tapped the glove compartment, "you'll find a name, an address, and some photographs. Find this young woman, and turn her."

"Turn her?"

"Right. Remember, you are not to kill her. If we wanted to kill her we'd have done so ourselves. Your task is to turn her."

"Why do you want me to..."

He held up a hand, interrupting me. "That is not your concern. Your business is merely to find and turn her. That is all. Do you accept?"

I hesitated only a millisecond. The thought of sunlight drove nearly everything else out of my mind. "Yes," I said. "Oh yes."

"Good." He reached out. "Give me your hand."

I held out my right hand. He pressed a fingertip to the inside of my wrist. There was a moment of exquisite agony, too fleeting to be really sure it had been there, and then he dropped my hand. "It's done."

"You mean I'm..."

"As promised. Now, there are a couple of other things." He held up a finger. "As long as you keep your side of the bargain, you will have the abilities I just gave you. Do you understand?"

I nodded.

"No. Say it, so it goes on the record. Do you understand?"

"Yes," I whispered.

"If you break the terms of the bargain, we will withdraw this benison.' He held up another finger. "Secondly; I, or one of my colleagues, will contact you from time to time. When we do, you are to drop whatever you are doing, no matter how important it may seem to you, and follow our orders. Is that clear?"

"Yes. It is."

"The rest of the time, though, you are free to do as you choose, and go anywhere you want." He smiled that terrible smile again. "With your new abilities you have no limits in that." A third finger went up. "Now, I am aware that you don't use your real name anymore, Countess. What name would you rather use until we meet again? Millarca? Or...Carmilla?"

"I'm calling myself Marcilla these days. I'd like to go on with that for a little longer."

"Very well, Marcilla." He tapped the glove compartment again. If this had been a movie, his fingertip might have flashed or glowed, but since it wasn't, it merely tapped. "All right, in here you'll also find a passport made out in the name of Marcilla Karnstein,"

"Do I need a passport?"

He just stared at me. "...a passport," he said eventually, "as well as a driver's licence, registration, and insurance papers for this car. I wish you the best of luck, though I doubt you'll need it."

"Wait, what's your na..." I looked up from the glove compartment, and he was gone. I was alone in the car.

I'd never even got to ask his identity, let alone just what he was, demon or angel.

Not that it mattered, really. Demon or angel, it's impossible to decide which one's more irredeemably vile.

_________________________________

ENID'S DIARY:

13th April:

I found a photo of Mam today, in the back of the bookshelf. I don't know how it got there. It was from before she got sick, when she still had all her hair. I looked at it and I started crying, like a waterfall.

Stupid, stupid. She's been gone for five years. Crying isn't going to bring her back.

Bloody Trace called me on the phone while I was still crying my eyes out. Stupid cow. Hasn't she heard of WhatsApp? I didn't take the call and then she got all miffed. Sent me a lot of messages that I was freezing her out.

Can't I have a moment to myself?

Trace is getting a bit much. It's as though she thinks we were still twelve or something, sitting whispering in the back of old Mrs H's History class. And she still has both her parents. It's unfair, that's what it is.

Da called this morning, said he's in Spain or Portugal or somewhere, said he had to go. He always has to go. I can't remember when I saw him last and I can't be bothered to check this diary back to find out. I might as well be a full orphan, for all he's here for me.

I wonder if he thinks of Mam at all.

I hate writing this bloody diary, but I promised Mam I would. She said it would bring me structure and organisation in my life. All it's doing is proving to me how boring and pointless my life is.

Saw that girl again today. I wonder who she is.

16th April:

Trace came to the shop today, all giggly, as though she'd won the bloody lottery. Luckily Mrs B was out and there were no customers, or I'd have heard all about it afterwards, the fat old cow.

Said she's found a new bloke, and he was fit and that. She finds a new bloke about once a month. Don't know what she does with the old ones. Eats them, maybe, but then she's thin as thin.

He's taking her to dinner tomorrow night, she said, Why don't I come along?

Why should I, I asked, you don't want me mucking up your dinner, I'd just be in the way. I didn't want to see her lovey-doveying with him either, just to show off to me. It makes me sick.

No you won't, she said, there's going to be someone else there, someone you want to meet.

Yeah? I asked, who?

Vivek, she said.

Vivek, I said, that Vivek? But he left town, didn't he? Went to college doon south?

He's back and you should take a look at him, she said. He's real fit and all.

I shrugged, tried to look uninterested, but Trace noticed right away. You still fancy him, right, she asked, you do, right?

All right, I used to fancy him, but that was then. Don't be such a git, I told her.

You're coming, she asked, aren't you?

Since you won't give me a break until I say yes, I said, yes, I will, all right. I saw a shadow across the shop door and turned to see if a customer was about to come in.

But it was the girl again. She looked at me through the glass and walked on.

Who was that, I asked.

Trace turned around but the girl was gone already. Who, she asked right back.

Nobody, I said, some lass. I've been seeing her around the last few days, here and there. Maybe she's doolally, now where do I meet you?

Then Mrs B came back in and Trace had to buy a potted cactus so I wouldn't get told off for rabbiting at work.

I wish I could find a better job.

17th April:

Day started off bad and got worse. First, I forgot to take the biscuit and bread crumbs for the birds like I always do. Poor buggers have to eat, too, and they always wait for the crumbs at the corner. But I'd nothing for them.

Then Mrs B was mad from the moment I came in and got more and more livid all the while. She said I was winding her up and couldn't even make the bouquet old Miss Haversham with the cats had ordered. I've been making bouquets for years, even before I started working here, and she never saw anything wrong with them before. I'd think it was her time o' the month but the old bat's certainly past all that by now, must be sixty if she's a day.

So by afternoon I was fuming myself and when I got home I just wanted to put my feet up and forget Trace, but she called to nag at me and said she'd come and get me if I didn't go. I didn't have the energy to argue so I dolled myself up a bit and headed out.

Saw the girl right away, leaning on a lamp post at the corner. I walked right past her and she didn't even turn her head to look as I went by. Definitely she's either simple or a loonie. She dresses well, though; you can tell her gear is top quality though it's just black jeans and light jacket over a dark tee.

Trace and her bloke were waiting for me near the bus station and we went to the new restaurant that used to be the post office until they closed it down. I forgot the bloke's name the moment I heard it. Eric or Adam or something. He's just like all of Trace's other new blokes, thin as a wire and tall so he stoops. By this time next month she won't remember his name herself, I bet.

So we sat and Vivek arrived. He's got a short curly beard now. Good looking, yeah? The problem is he knows it. I didn't much like the nosh, it was too spicy for me. When it was time to go he said he'd walk me home, as though I don't know this town better than I do the back of my hand. But he's fit and I was tired of Trace and Whatever not even paying a moment's attention to me all evening so I said all right.

Then when we were out in the street and walking I saw that girl again. She was looking at me and just then Vivek decided he wanted to kiss me. I wouldn't have minded but the girl was staring and so I said no, thanks, and turned my face away, but he caught hold of my shoulders and turned my mouth to his. He smelt of ciggie smoke. It felt like kissing a wet ashtray.

I saw that girl still watching and Vivek did too. He dropped my arms and walked away saying something about seeing me another time. Right, that's what I wanted, more forced ashtray kisses.

Passed the girl on the way home. I thought she was about to say something to me but she didn't.

Let Trace talk me into another do like today's and I'll give her an earful, see if I don't.

19th April:

Saw her outside the house two mornings in a row. She watches when I feed the birds, doesn't move a muscle or say a word.

Is the girl following me?

20th April:

Had a strange dream last night. I was in a big, very big, dark hall sort of space. There was no furniture but windows all the way down to the floor on two sides. Through them you could see that the sky was red, like there was a fire somewhere. On one side you could see a sea, the waves came right up to the window. On the other side there was a black plain, as far as the eye could see, but nothing grew there.

Except very far in the distance I could see something coming, shaped like a person walking. The light was too dim to see who or what that was, but I suddenly knew very well that I didn't want to see it close up. I'd rather jump into the ocean through one of the other windows than let it get close enough to me to see what it was. But when I tried to open the sea-side windows they were all shut fast as fast, and I couldn't even turn around because if I did I knew I would see that thing at the window behind me.

Woke with blood on my lips. I thought I'd maybe bitten myself, but couldn't see a thing in the mirror. And old Mr Baker the dentist said my gums are all right, so it can't have been them.

Mrs B was almost a little nice today. And I didn't see the girl either.

Where does that girl go when I don't see her?

_________________________________

MARCILLA:

She's a nice young woman, and that's the problem.

I don't mind this town. Old grey stone buildings with steeply slanted roofs, neat streets, some of which are still cobbled...it all reminds me a bit of home, or, rather, what home used to be like. I suppose it's all new buildings now in Styria, after all these years and all these wars.

It feels strange to be back in Europe again, after so long, just as it feels strange to be able to walk around in the sun without any discomfort. Even the air tastes different. Everything's on a smaller scale, more crowded together, even in the woods where the trees grow cheek by jowl. It feels almost like a living museum sometimes. But then I'm a museum piece myself.