Written in the Blood Read online

  It troubled Hannah, that blend. She could sense them watching her, and it made her skin itch. She felt the cold scratching of fear in her stomach, and it angered her; she had spent too many years afraid. Each new spike was like a drop of mercury in her veins.

  She didn’t want to be sitting here, feigning an air of calm, while somewhere out there her daughter faced dangers unknown. Matthias had reassured her that Leah would be found soon enough, but how could he promise her that? How could any of them? For fifteen years she’d dedicated herself to the task of arresting the hosszú életek’s decline, always with the hope of securing her daughter’s future. Right now she was seeing the unintended consequence: the girl she lived to protect offering herself as a pawn in that very battle.

  To combat her anxiety she stood, feeling for the pot and cups on the tray, and served coffee. Sitting back down, Hannah held her own cup close to her nose, trying to lose herself in the aroma of roasted beans.

  ‘I believe it’s a day for celebration,’ the Főnök said.

  Do not reveal your emotions.

  Hannah forced a smile. ‘It’s a day for catching up on sleep,’ she replied, rolling her neck.

  ‘It was a long labour?’

  ‘Nothing extreme. But . . .’ She decided she might as well be frank. ‘It wasn’t without its complications.’

  A click of bone china as the Főnök placed down her coffee cup. ‘Did she need intervention?’

  ‘Yes.’

  The woman paused. ‘You nearly lost her.’

  ‘But we didn’t,’ Gabriel said. ‘Flóra appreciated the risks. And now she has a son, another—’

  ‘Gabe, please. We understand all that. Truly we do. I ask only out of concern for the mother. None of us feels anything but delight at this news.’

  Across the table, Anton Golias grunted.

  ‘Something to say?’ Gabriel asked. Hannah heard the ice in his tone.

  ‘You know my feelings on it. Flóra was too old. It was a risk.’

  ‘There have always been risks.’

  ‘Some more extreme than others.’

  Hannah stiffened at that. ‘What else would you have us do, Anton? Look at the alternative. Would you prefer that?’

  ‘Of course not. But some would say you should take greater care when choosing the women you recruit.’

  ‘And who should make that choice? You? The rest of the tanács? Flóra came to us willingly. You know that as well as I. Is it for us to deny her?’

  ‘Five women have died on these premises in the last six months.’

  ‘And fifteen babies have been born.’

  ‘So we’ve reduced ourselves to statistics, is that it?’

  ‘Can you suggest a different approach?’ Hannah asked. ‘Should we pack it all in, go home quietly and light a candle to commemorate the last of us? We’re fighting a war here, in that building behind me. Fighting a grim, backs-to-the-wall last stand: against nature, against the consequences of the Eleni outrages all those years ago. Like any war, we’re going to have casualties. It’s messy and it’s horrific, and believe me that if you stayed here a week and watched what we do you’d see how we suffer – and how we rejoice – with every inch of ground we advance or retreat. Do you think we don’t grieve for each volunteer we lose? Do you think we don’t live with their loss every day? Tell me a better way and I’ll listen.’

  The sound of wind chimes filled the silence.

  Anton sighed. ‘I don’t wish to attack you, Hannah. I know your intentions are pure. We all know. And I don’t have a better solution for you. But I have to consider the greater good.’

  ‘This is the greater good.’

  ‘Only if you have a chance of succeeding. If not, all you’re doing is accelerating the very outcome you’re trying to reverse. From what I hear, you’re fast running out of options.’

  Hannah felt Gabriel’s hand on her arm. She knew, immediately, what he feared she might say: that there was another option, but the tanács was too entrenched to consider it. She wouldn’t speak of that, of course, especially not now; especially considering where Leah had gone.

  Instead she swallowed, calmed herself. ‘I appreciate the need for debate. Of course I do.’

  ‘I’m sure,’ Anton replied. ‘You know this project split the tanács in two. I don’t agree with the more literal interpretations of the Vének Könyve, and neither do I see their relevance to what we face today, but you should know that the voices of orthodoxy are becoming increasingly loud. I’m here to ensure that the risks you’re taking don’t grow so excessive that you lose what support you still enjoy. Even some of your strongest supporters are starting to say the pair of you have too much personal interest in this to be objective.’

  Gabriel laughed. ‘How can any of us not have a personal interest in this?’

  ‘Some are also saying,’ Anton continued, ‘that considering Hannah’s heritage, she’s hardly the most obvious person to be leading this programme.’

  Oliver Lebeau’s chair creaked as it shifted under his weight. Now he interjected: ‘Yet we all know how ridiculous those objections are. Without Hannah, there is no programme. It wouldn’t exist.’

  The Főnök said, ‘Please don’t think we came here to attack you, Hannah. It’s not the reason for our visit.’

  ‘It isn’t?’

  ‘We’ve learned something. It may be nothing. But if what we’re hearing is true, then it affects us all, and it affects your situation directly.’ Addressing her councilmen, she added, ‘I’d like to speak to Hannah and Gabriel alone. Oliver, you wanted to see the facilities. I believe someone is available to show you around.’

  The two men stood, and Hannah heard them walk back across the garden to the complex. Wind sighed in the trees. For a while, no one spoke.

  ‘I’m sorry you had to listen to that,’ the Főnök said. ‘Anton can be blunt, but his intentions are good.’

  ‘Are they?’ Gabriel asked.

  ‘He takes his responsibilities seriously.’

  ‘And we don’t?’

  ‘Of course. That’s not what I meant.’ She sighed. ‘Look at us: you and me. Prickly like this. If our mother could see us now . . . I never realised how wise you were to turn down this role.’

  ‘Not much wisdom needed for that, sis. I’ve never been good with rules. Hardly the best choice of candidate to enforce them. If our mother could still see us, she’d say you were the obvious choice to succeed her and you know it. I work better from the side-lines. Always have.’

  ‘Things have changed so much. The tanács plot and scheme, bicker like school children. These days the role of Főnök seems mainly one of mediation.’

  ‘Another skill you inherited from mother, and one that I lack. You were always the best choice. The only choice.’ He paused. ‘I still don’t understand how the tanács can be so backward about what we’re trying to achieve.’

  ‘Those passages in the Vének Könyve are problematic.’

  ‘And while your councillors argue about their interpretation, we’re trying to ensure our very survival.’

  ‘We were never going to reverse a thousand years of ingrained doctrine overnight. If you could take a more visible role—’

  ‘My place is here, Cat.’

  She sighed. ‘I know.’

  ‘So let’s not skirt around the reason for your visit. The tanács situation is hardly new. Although if Oliver can impose his will on you, it’s worse than I thought.’

  ‘I could hardly deny his request to see this place.’

  ‘We agreed to keep it secret.’

  ‘But not from the tanács.’

  ‘The location, we did.’

  Catharina remained silent.

  ‘So tell us. What is it? What’s happened that’s brought you all the way out here to Calw? I take it you haven’t dug us up any new volunteers.’

  ‘Is Leah here?’ the Főnök asked. ‘She should listen to this. It affects her, too. More than anyone, perhaps.’

  Han
nah felt her stomach plummet at the mention of her daughter’s name. ‘Leah’s not around right now. Whatever this is, we’ll pass it on.’

  ‘Can you contact her? Ask her to come back?’

  ‘She’ll be gone a few days. Please, Catharina, just share your news. I’ll make sure Leah knows as soon as possible.’

  ‘Very well. But once we’ve spoken, we’ll need to brief Matthias. You’re going to have to step up security. Perhaps even relocate. And we’re going to have to talk to the parents. Check every one of the children.’

  That cold scratch of fear from earlier had begun to bore out a furrow. ‘The way you’re talking, this doesn’t sound like something that could be nothing.’

  ‘No.’ The Főnök paused. ‘Hannah, have you ever heard us talk of the lélek tolvajok?’

  Beside her, Gabriel’s chair creaked. ‘There hasn’t been an abduction in years. You told me the tolvajok were dead.’

  ‘Maybe not,’ his sister replied.

  CHAPTER 8

  Yosemite National Park, California, USA

  Angel River sat beside her sister as her mom’s boyfriend Ty steered their rental RV through the rock-hewn tube of the Wawona Tunnel. The yellow lights hanging from the granite ceiling threw carnival shadows around the vehicle, twisting the faces of her family into goblin-like leers.

  In her lap Angel held her phone. Glancing down, she activated its countdown timer and stared at the numerals on the screen.

  Over two weeks until this trip was over. Two weeks of living and eating and sleeping together inside this huge space-age bus.

  It’ll be good for us, her mom had promised back in Oregon, eyes crinkling at the edges as she smoothed Angel’s hair and kissed her forehead. Good for all you guys. You want to spend some time getting to know Regan and Luke, don’t you?

  Yes, she replied. She did. And she said it partly because she knew her mom needed to hear it; and her mom needed a break. But Angel also said it because it was true – in a way. Admittedly, she found Luke a little creepy. But he was fourteen. And most fourteen-year-old boys were a little creepy. He didn’t say much, just stared at his phone a lot and listened to his music. A few times she’d caught him looking at her, although not really in a sex way: more with a kind of sad longing. Now that was weird. Especially since he was about to become her stepbrother.

  Luke’s older sister Regan, conversely, had turned out be funny, confident and effortlessly glamorous in a way Angel could only dream about. She’d expected the girl to be distant – what sixteen-year-old wanted to be friends with a thirteen-year-old kid? – but Regan included her in every joke, every conversation. Angel’s two siblings, Elliot and Hope, had become equally enchanted with their future stepsister.

  From the throne-like driving seat up front, Ty raised his eyes to the rear-view mirror, a big dumb grin on his face. ‘OK, Brady Bunch, get ready for Yosemite!’

  In the centre of the tunnel a white eye had appeared, rushing towards them. Angel was reminded of the books she had read about out-of-body experiences, reincarnation.

  Perhaps this is my reincarnation, she thought. And then, just as quickly: Stop being so damn melodramatic.

  Moments earlier the white eye had been the size of a coin. Now it had swollen to the size of a grapefruit. Every yard eaten by the RV’s tyres drew them a yard closer to their final destination in Vegas . . . and a yard further from Angel’s old home in Oregon; her old friends; her dad. It felt, in a way, like a betrayal.

  Bad shit happened. Let’s get the fuck out.

  But it wasn’t like that. Not really. Ty was an OK guy, just about. He annoyed the hell out of her sometimes, and his Brady Bunch gag had tired pretty quickly. He did seem to love her mom, though. Angel knew it was selfish, but she just wasn’t ready for a new dad.

  The white eye at the tunnel’s end kept growing, flaring around its edges like a corona. They shot under an illuminated sign hanging from the tunnel’s roof.

  PREPARE

  Angel felt a rash of goosebumps breaking out on her skin. It chilled her, that sign. Somehow prophetic.

  Come on, Ty, make a gag.

  But it was her mom, riding shotgun in her cut-off shorts, with flip-flopped feet resting on the dash, who referenced the sign. She swivelled in her chair, eyes shining like jack-o’-lanterns. ‘Ready, gang? THREE . . . TWO . . . ONE!’

  And suddenly they were through, barrelling into daylight, into blue sky and granite Sierra Nevada peaks and forested valley, and a view Angel had seen on a hundred different postcards and travel guides. She felt her lungs filling, a grin forming. Exactly the reaction she hadn’t expected.

  ‘Wow!’ her brother Elliot yelled, twisting off the bench seat in the RV’s living space and planting his palms against the window.

  There was something prehistoric about the scenery beyond that glass. Something that reminded her of those old movies she’d watched: One Million Years BC starring Raquel Welch, and The Lost World – not the Jurassic Park sequel, but the sixties adaptation of a novel by one of her favourite writers, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

  On the north side of the valley rose the granite block of El Capitan, its vertical cliff face climbing thousands of feet. On the south side, Angel saw a waterfall cascading over a crevice high up in the rocks, wind blowing the water out in a spray as it tumbled towards the valley below.

  ‘Bridalveil Fall,’ Ty said, pointing as if he heard her thoughts. ‘Twice as tall as the Statue of Liberty.’

  That was another thing about him. When Ty wasn’t making gags, he was relaying facts. Hundreds and hundreds of them, and always to Angel, as if he believed he’d found in her a fellow trivia addict. Where he got them from, she didn’t know. He didn’t appear particularly cerebral. Certainly not today, in safari shorts that revealed skinny white knees, and the T-shirt hanging from his frame with its depiction of a wizard and the words THAT’S WHAT I’M TOLKIEN ABOUT emblazoned across the front.

  Thanks to Ty she knew that the Wawona Tunnel was 4,233 feet long, and that it had held the record for the longest road tunnel in California since 1933. She wondered what possible use she would ever find for that information.

  ‘You heard of the Ahwahneechee tribe, Angel?’ Ty asked.

  She shook her head.

  ‘Original inhabitants of Yosemite. They thought that breathing the mists of Bridalveil would give you better marriage prospects.’

  ‘Pity Mom didn’t come here earlier, in that case,’ Angel replied. She grinned at his reflection, to show that she was joking.

  Ty grinned back, to show her that it was OK. Then his eyes narrowed. ‘They also believed an evil spirit lives by the falls, and you should never look directly into its waters when you leave the valley.’

  ‘Or what?’

  ‘Or you’ll be cursed,’ he told her.

  ‘Fascinating.’

  ‘Yeee-up.’

  They followed the road east, alongside the inky waters of what Ty explained was the Merced River, behind a steady procession of cars, RVs and motorcycles.

  It seemed to Angel that half of California had descended upon Yosemite today. She turned in her seat as they passed the waterfall, anxious for one last look.

  They reached the campground a short while later. Ty slowed the RV to a crawl before hauling on the wheel and swinging the vehicle in through the entrance. Lining the road, the cinnamon-red trunks of huge ponderosa pines soared a hundred feet and higher, their ancient bark split into thick crusted plates. The forest floor was a field of dead needles, cones and smooth grey boulders.

  After jumping out at the ranger station to pick up their camp pass, Ty steered their vehicle around the looping campground road, searching for their site. They found it easily – the only vacant slot – and parked up, swapping the steady rumble of the RV’s diesel for the muted hiss of the Merced. She could see it there, glinting between the trees.

  Marked by a half-circle of five giant ponderosas, their site consisted of a flat patch of swept ground for their motorhome, two picni
c tables, a fire ring and a food locker. Up front, Ty rotated his driving seat so that he faced the RV’s living space. ‘OK, Bradies. Quick safety briefing. Need you all to be careful about food while we’re here. Why’s that?’

  Angel’s brother shot up his hand.

  ‘Elliot?’

  ‘’Cuz of bears will eat you,’ he said, puffing out his chest.

  On the couch opposite, Angel’s sister Hope picked up her magazine. ‘Just great,’ she muttered.

  Ty clapped his hands. ‘Well, bears is correct, Elliot. But there’s no need to worry. We treat ’em right and they won’t bother us. There hasn’t been a fatal bear attack in Yosemite, ever.’

  ‘What about non-fatal?’ Hope asked, eyes never lifting from her magazine.

  Ty paused at that, and then he brightened. ‘Well, like I said – we treat ’em right, and they won’t bother us. Most people who get tangled up, it’s because they didn’t follow precautions.’

  ‘Which are?’

  ‘It’s our food they want. Smell drives them crazy. They’ll do anything to get their paws on it. And I mean anything.’

  ‘Ty . . .’ Angel’s mom warned, laying a hand on her fiancé’s arm.

  He twitched. ‘You’re right, you’re right. Sorry, got carried away again. OK, simple rules. We keep all the food in the RV, and we keep the door and all the windows shut. You put your uneaten food back in the RV. Don’t drop anything outside or throw anything out. Simple. Let’s hope we’re lucky enough to spot a few.’

  ‘Did you bring any pepper spray?’ Hope asked.

  ‘It’s not allowed in Yosemite. If you see a bear too close, you just shout at it to back the hell up. Now, who wants to come outside and barbecue a couple of steaks?’

  Later, after Ty had coaxed them out of the motorhome and suffused the forest with the kind of roasting meat smells which, had Angel been a bear, would have driven her into the midst of their camp ready to tear the head off anyone prepared to get in her way, they dragged the two picnic tables together and ate.

  It was then that Angel decided she’d discovered another thing about Ty. Yes, the lame jokes and useless facts could get old pretty quick. But the guy could cook. It wasn’t sophisticated and it certainly wasn’t healthy, but it was the some of the best food she’d ever tasted: rump steaks marinated in a homemade chilli sauce and barbecued until they were charred on the outside but so soft you could cut them with a spoon; chicken wings sticky with honey; shrimp in lime; corn dripping in butter; potato salad and coleslaw. They tucked their heads down, all seven of them, and bashed elbows until they were fit to burst. Angel even managed to fill her plastic tumbler with Blue Moon when her mom was looking the other way.