With dawn, Nerina left Dmitri to go to ground. When she rose, there would be a trail for her to follow. That was their way. While the sun was up Dmitri and his family traveled to the next campsite or a nearby town for supplies. They never stayed longer than a day and never mingled with the locals. All who saw them knew they were gypsies and guarded their purses. The popular consensus was that all gypsies were thieves and silver-tongued charlatans. They could sell you back your own soul and make a profit.
It was late evening before they arrived at the next village on the outskirts of the main town. The unpaved streets lay mostly deserted though the sun was yet to set. Dmitri's mother, Oana, a fervent Roman Catholic reached for the golden cross hanging from a slender gold chain around her neck. The quiet strained like a thin veil covering the town as they walked through the streets looking for a shop or a tavern.
Only one tavern had its door open. Inside the owner was hastily flipping over chairs on the tables. He almost jumped over one when he turned and saw the family standing at the opening of the door. He looked at them, knew they were gypsies. His first thought had been to send them on their way but the look on his face changed to one of conflicted concern.
"We seek food," Bogdan the main patriarch of the family said without pause. The Detola's were no strangers to condemnation.
"Seek it elsewhere," the man said, turning back to flipping over the chairs. They were strangers in a village they had no sense walking about in when the sun was going down.
"Our women and children—"
"Would be safer locked away, not wondering around this godforsaken village," the man quickly added.
A stout middle-aged woman came through a door from an adjoining room. She was about to say something to the man when she stopped slack jawed looking at the family.
"Where is your manners you old loon?" she asked sternly when she gathered her own, wiping her hands in her apron. Where the man had been edgy the woman was nervous her hands slightly shaking. She went over to the family nonetheless pulling them inside, bolting the locks on the door and dropping a thick piece of board across it. Her smile faltered though she did her best to hold it in place.
"This is Henry, call me Matilda. Henry, get the windows. Drop some chairs." As she instructed him, Matilda was dropping chairs around the longest table where the entire family could sit.
"I am Bogdan, this is my family," he nodded towards the group.
"Nice to meet you." Though her voice was polite, it shook. Matilda glanced over at her husband before looking back at the group. "Soup. You look like you could use some soup. Vegetables? We have fresh vegetables I can make you all soup. Fresh bread straight from the oven this morning too."
"Night's coming Matilda." There was a tone of warning in her husband's voice.
"And our guests are hungry," she bit back.
The man's lips went thin with the dismissal. "We shouldn't be having any guests this time of night," Henry grumbled miserably, "get us all killed."
"Hush." Matilda all but threw a chair at her husband.
"Don't tell me hush woman," he said, shaking his fist.
"We do not wish to inconvenience you," Dmitri said with a polite smile for the bickering couple. There was some under currents there. The same they had felt walking through the deserted streets of the little village. For once, it had nothing to do with them.
"No, no, sit. Soup."
The woman disappeared through the door she had come through without another word. Dmitri and his family sat looking around the table at each other. The exchange had not passed them, neither had what the old man said about them all getting killed.
Cosmin, Bogdan's second eldest to Dmitri pulled out a chair for his wife Daria who took their son into her lap. He glanced towards the old man who was still off mumbling as he boarded up the windows. "Something is wrong."
"I'm not blind boy," Bogdan said.
Eduard the youngest fiddled with his knife as he sat beside his wife Ilinca with their daughter sleeping in her lap. Dmitri remained standing with his father while the others sat.
Henry left them going through the door his wife had used. As he went in the scent of the vegetable soup came out to greet them. They had not realized how hungry they were until they smelt it. Dmitri went to the boarded window as his father watched him, taking a seat beside Oana. Through the spacing in the boards, he could see outside was growing dark. Nerina would be there soon.
He turned when the woman Matilda came out with a platter of bread from what apparently was the kitchen. Her husband came out soon after with a tray of steaming bowls of soup. The family sat and ate their fill. Matilda stood watching them twisting her fingers in her apron. Her husband was whispering to her. She walked away from him after jabbing him in the ribs with her elbow. Their interaction did not go unnoticed. Something was very wrong.
"You must stay the night. We have extra rooms." Matilda did not attempt to hide her nerves neither did her husband try to hide his annoyance. Henry's constant side ward glances at the windows showed his anxiety.
Bogdan wiped his mouth before he spoke. "We cannot."
"You must." The woman went from nervous to frantic with his refusal. Her husband laid a hand on her shoulder bringing her close to his side. His annoyance was now concern for the middle-aged woman who clung to him, her eyes wide with her silent plea.
"Strange things have been happening," Henry supplied, "in the village."
The Detola men looked around at each other. That much they had figured out.
"People have been...disappearing," Henry continued. Each bit of information he added sounded measured as if he was considering what to divulge and what he should not put into words. It was as if saying them would bring the evil he spoke of right into his home.
"Vanishing from their beds," Matilda added in a whisper.
"Satanists, the people been saying," Henry added.
Oana broke out in silent prayer only her lips moving as she closed her eyes holding on to the crucifix around her neck.
"All manner of dark rituals have been showing up in these parts. Body parts thrown about. People don't let the sun go down on them in the streets." Henry soon told them the entire story unmeasured as he and Matilda sat across from them.
"You must stay the night," Matilda repeated at the end.
"My family and I will be fine," Bogdan said looking around at his sons for confirmation.
"Bogdan," Oana started to protest.
As religious as his wife was he was not a man who believed in demons and ghosts. He was superstitious to a reasonable extent in his mind. He was capable, along with his sons, of protecting his family as he always had. The story had flare but was for a late night at the campfire with a cup of ale. Though certain it was a wayward story perpetuated by irrational imaginations, he could not get around the look on his wife's face. She feared little and now she was afraid. Inside he cringed at the look in her almost too big eyes the shade of warm gold. All her children had her eyes.
Oana was, had always been and would always be his greatest weakness.
"The women and children will stay here," he said finally.
"If something is dragging town's people from their beds it would be best we kept watch," Eduard said touching the tip of his daughter's nose. She was now in his lap in a deep sleep her thumb in her mouth for comfort.
"Or we could simply pack up and leave this place and their superstitious ramblings behind," Cosmin said around a piece of bread in his mouth. He took another bite.
Dmitri wiped his hand over his mouth to hide a smile when Cosmin jumped at the knock at the door. Matilda was half way in her husband's lap her skin now the shade of fresh paste. Everyone fell quiet the silence lingering like an axe over their heads. The knock came again and this time it held a message that only Dmitri understood. He got up to open the door with the near hysterical protest of Matilda following him. Her weeping was panicked and inconsolable.
On the other side of the door, Nerina stood a grim line to her lips as she looked out around the town. Her brow creased in what Dmitri knew was concentration. "This entire place stinks of fear," she said as she looked from one end to another. Her senses flared out trying to pick up anything that would be out of place. Except the weeping inside the little tavern, there was no other sound. No night sounds. No breeze gently rustling a leaf. Nothing at all. It was as if nature itself was holding its breath. But for what?
He took a step back for her to come in and she looked at him. "I cannot. It's a home."
Dmitri stepped out on the small open porch with her. He closed the door on Matilda's continued weeping. "So something is happening in this village."
"Is that why the woman's crying?" she asked facing him.
Dmitri told her all the middle-aged couple had told him about the strange things happening in the village.
"You should all stay inside tonight."
"It's not a vampire." Of that, Dmitri was sure.
"Clearly not if people are being dragged from their beds inside their own homes. But there are many things that go bump in the night." Most of which she had not encountered herself but she knew enough to know she did not want to.
"My father will not stand being locked away like a woman." He smiled though his amusement did not reach his eyes.
"You forget I can be very persuasive."
He had not but the thought of her compelling her father's actions or anyone else in his family for that matter was—uncomfortable. It was not that he did not trust her it was simply—uncomfortable. "I'll speak to him. Make him see reason." He kissed her. "I am not comfortable with this." Knowing she could very well handle herself did not give him any solace. She was a slight slip of a thing. Her true age in contrast with the young woman who stood before him.
"You protect the family from your kind, I protect them from mine." With that, she left.