Read Online Afterglow (Brotherhood of the Blade Trilogy #2) by Eve Paludan - Free Book Online
Authors: Eve Paludan
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like Samantha Moon.
I just knew that after all of these months, my heart was so torn apart that the intel on the location of Vlad’s lair spurred me to action, so much so that there was no way I could have slept after what had happened to Gabby.
Somehow, I had gotten a seat assignment on the train near a harried woman traveling with several children, and she was nearly weepy with the stress. The baby was screaming with what appeared to be an earache, and wouldn’t nurse. The wee thing also had a very stinky diaper. I tried to breathe through my mouth. It had been years since I had even been around a baby. Not since my own Kristen was tiny…
The women in Europe were not shy about such things and it was a different world when this pretty, plump stranger on a train asked me in heavily accented English if I would watch the other children while she cleaned up the baby in the lavatory. I nodded and she put her breast back in her blouse and got up with the shrieking baby. With her gone to the lav, I suddenly had two other kids on my lap, wanting to play. I had to shift around some things so none of my weapons were too obvious. Or painful.
Somehow, the mother, a sausage maker whose name I soon learned was Uta, was also going to Transylvania. We ended up transferring together on several trains. By the time we were about to hit the Hungary-Romania border, the kids were calling me “Uncle” and no one had once asked me for my passport nor given me so much as a strange look. I found that bizarre, but a relief. Apparently, only spot checks of passports were the norm on the train, even at the borders.
Here I was, this tall, lean guy with spiky hair—I still dyed it black and let it grow long since becoming a vampire hunter for the Brotherhood of the Blade—and two dark-haired children vying for my attention while their mother apologized over and over for their enthusiasm for my attention. I told her not to worry and for the many hours of travel, I had a real family again. Not a vampire hunter family, but a woman and three kids.
I even took my turns rocking the baby and was probably the only vampire hunter ever to go into the vampire-hunting night with spit-up stains down his back. I wasn’t complaining. It choked me up how I missed it so. I wanted my daughter back with an ache.
When Uta’s children tired of their travel toys, and of cheese, bread, and juices, which they generously shared with me—I bought their dinner later and all of their meals after that, when I saw very little money in her wallet—their exhausted mother slept with the baby suckling under her unbuttoned blouse while I read a fairy tale storybook to the older two, twins Erika and Anton. Well, I didn’t exactly read it to them. I made up the words to match the pictures, as the text was in a language and alphabet that I did not read nor understand. But the illustrations were familiar to me. It was funny how fairy tales cross cultures like that.
When the three children were asleep, and the lights were low in our coach car, Uta passed me a blanket and turned out all but one reading light where our seats faced each other. She said to me, “I think I know why you are going to Transylvania.”
“ I doubt that, Uta,” I replied, just as softly.
“ You are not the first to go after him, Uncle,” she said, using the children’s pet name for me.
“ Go after who?”
“ Vladimir Tepes.”
I was stunned. “How did you know?”
“I live in Bran, and I make sausage there in my butcher shop. I see many things and I try not to look at the unhappy things. Many come to Bran and the surrounding countryside, seeking Vlad the Impaler, but they do not come back to my butcher shop. They arrive, but they do not depart.”
“ Hmm,” I said. “That’s not good.”
Our eyes met over the low light and she said, “Do you go to the tourist castle or do you go to the ruins?”
“The ruins. Raven Citadel, in the back country.”
“ Do not go there,” she
I just knew that after all of these months, my heart was so torn apart that the intel on the location of Vlad’s lair spurred me to action, so much so that there was no way I could have slept after what had happened to Gabby.
Somehow, I had gotten a seat assignment on the train near a harried woman traveling with several children, and she was nearly weepy with the stress. The baby was screaming with what appeared to be an earache, and wouldn’t nurse. The wee thing also had a very stinky diaper. I tried to breathe through my mouth. It had been years since I had even been around a baby. Not since my own Kristen was tiny…
The women in Europe were not shy about such things and it was a different world when this pretty, plump stranger on a train asked me in heavily accented English if I would watch the other children while she cleaned up the baby in the lavatory. I nodded and she put her breast back in her blouse and got up with the shrieking baby. With her gone to the lav, I suddenly had two other kids on my lap, wanting to play. I had to shift around some things so none of my weapons were too obvious. Or painful.
Somehow, the mother, a sausage maker whose name I soon learned was Uta, was also going to Transylvania. We ended up transferring together on several trains. By the time we were about to hit the Hungary-Romania border, the kids were calling me “Uncle” and no one had once asked me for my passport nor given me so much as a strange look. I found that bizarre, but a relief. Apparently, only spot checks of passports were the norm on the train, even at the borders.
Here I was, this tall, lean guy with spiky hair—I still dyed it black and let it grow long since becoming a vampire hunter for the Brotherhood of the Blade—and two dark-haired children vying for my attention while their mother apologized over and over for their enthusiasm for my attention. I told her not to worry and for the many hours of travel, I had a real family again. Not a vampire hunter family, but a woman and three kids.
I even took my turns rocking the baby and was probably the only vampire hunter ever to go into the vampire-hunting night with spit-up stains down his back. I wasn’t complaining. It choked me up how I missed it so. I wanted my daughter back with an ache.
When Uta’s children tired of their travel toys, and of cheese, bread, and juices, which they generously shared with me—I bought their dinner later and all of their meals after that, when I saw very little money in her wallet—their exhausted mother slept with the baby suckling under her unbuttoned blouse while I read a fairy tale storybook to the older two, twins Erika and Anton. Well, I didn’t exactly read it to them. I made up the words to match the pictures, as the text was in a language and alphabet that I did not read nor understand. But the illustrations were familiar to me. It was funny how fairy tales cross cultures like that.
When the three children were asleep, and the lights were low in our coach car, Uta passed me a blanket and turned out all but one reading light where our seats faced each other. She said to me, “I think I know why you are going to Transylvania.”
“ I doubt that, Uta,” I replied, just as softly.
“ You are not the first to go after him, Uncle,” she said, using the children’s pet name for me.
“ Go after who?”
“ Vladimir Tepes.”
I was stunned. “How did you know?”
“I live in Bran, and I make sausage there in my butcher shop. I see many things and I try not to look at the unhappy things. Many come to Bran and the surrounding countryside, seeking Vlad the Impaler, but they do not come back to my butcher shop. They arrive, but they do not depart.”
“ Hmm,” I said. “That’s not good.”
Our eyes met over the low light and she said, “Do you go to the tourist castle or do you go to the ruins?”
“The ruins. Raven Citadel, in the back country.”
“ Do not go there,” she
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