Chapter 22
TWENTY-TWO
We all went to the funeral home together.
When we strode into the parlor, a ragtag paranormal group of snarksters, Jareth looked up from his chair, a huge book open on his lap, and raised an eyebrow.
“This doesn’t feel like a social call,” he said.
“We have something we need you to look at.” Galen gestured to the book in my hand. “We believe it belonged to Declan.”
Jareth gently placed his book on the side table next to his chair and accepted the book I handed to him. “Where did you get this?” he asked as he ran his hands over the binding.
“The Voodoo Lounge,” Galen replied.
“I see.” Jareth continued to rub the book, his gaze thoughtful. The flare of his nostrils told me he recognized the book for what it was. “Do you know what this is?” he asked, and when he raised his eyes, he was looking directly at me.
“It’s a grimoire,” I said with more authority than I felt.
His lips pursed. “What do you mean when you call it that?”
Jareth wouldn’t try to trick me so I took the question at face value. “It’s a magic book. Like, a book of spells.”
He nodded but not because he agreed. “This is not a book of spells,” he replied. “There’s magic here — dark magic — but it’s not a spell book. It’s called a codex.”
“Okay.” I stretched out my response.
He smirked at my confusion. “It’s an old word. It refers to a manuscript, or scripture. Old stories.”
“So it’s a story?” Lilac asked as she sat on the settee. Booker sat next to her.
“A story, or a retelling,” Jareth replied. He still hadn’t opened the book.
“Is it a story about Declan?” I asked.
“No.”
“How can you be sure? Declan was old.”
“Not this old.” He smiled.
“It’s in Romanian, isn’t it?” Galen asked.
“It is. I know this book. My people have been looking for it for a very long time. It is a cherished tale of death and life.”
He always had a flowery way of speaking. This was going above and beyond his usual. “How about you start from the beginning, tell us what it is, and then explain why Declan might have had it?” I suggested.
On a sigh, he opened the book. “Romania is an important location for vampire lore. How much do you know about it?”
“Treat us like newbies,” I suggested.
Jareth’s lips quirked before he looked to Lilac.
“We know some of the lore,” she replied.
He leaned back in his chair, leaving the codex on the first page.
“American vampires are very different from European vampires. Think of it like how the Americans split from the British. They still had things in common, but they were no longer the same people. European vampires were tied to history and believed they were supposed to act a certain way. American vampires did their own thing. They created their own rules.”
He leaned forward and took his goblet from the table to sip. It looked as if it was filled with red wine. If it wasn’t, I didn’t want to know about it.
“Romanian lore revolves around the strigoi. They can either be living or dead and are believed to rise from their graves with the sole purpose of stalking the living. The reason the people of the time believed that is because bitten vampires often were buried and did rise from their graves. Born vampires didn’t, but they had no idea there were two types to worry about. ”
I sat on the settee with Booker and Lilac, leaving the three remaining chairs for Aurora, Brody, and Galen. Everybody settled in.
“The living strigoi were the sort who could turn into vampires. That doesn’t necessarily mean that they would. They also were often minions of the dead strigoi.
“Some believed the strigoi could shapeshift,” he continued.
“A strong strigoi could control the minds of humans and make them see things. The strigoi were vulnerable to holy water and could be killed with a stake in the heart. There are other methods to kill vampires but that method was the first learned.”
“Obviously you weren’t spreading around your weaknesses,” Galen guessed.
“Definitely not.” Jareth shook his head. “The Romanians got some things right but other things wrong. The living strigoi weren’t born being vessels. The strigoi population in Romania was high, especially after a few plagues wiped out much of the human population.”
I was ahead of him. “The living strigoi were dhampirs.”
He nodded. “There were many in Romania but most of them were wiped out after about fifty years.”
“The vampires killed their own offspring?” Booker asked. “Wouldn’t they want to protect them?”
Jareth shrugged. “When my people learned they could mate with humans, they were excited, but not for the reasons you may think. First, it’s important to note that only born vampires can create children with humans.
Bitten vampires can’t procreate at all. Born ones can create other vampires with vampire mates … and children with humans.”
“What about demons?” Lilac asked.
Jareth hesitated before shrugging. “We were taught it was impossible, but there are legends. As with any legend, you must take it with a grain of salt. I don’t know if it’s possible.”
“Well, if it’s like Jurassic Park, it’s probably rare but does happen,” I offered. “Life will find a way and all that.”
Galen pursed his lips, fighting a smile.
“Who am I to argue with Jurassic Park?” Jareth replied dryly.
I couldn’t see why anyone would argue with Jurassic Park. It was a classic for a reason.
“One of the reasons so many dhampirs were born during that time in Romania is because witch lore was just as strong as strigoi lore,” he explained. “Everyone assumed vampires could mate with humans at will. That was not true. As I told you before, Hadley, it can only be witches.”
“I remember,” I said on a nod.
“The dhampirs were servants of sorts at first. Actually, they were children so they weren’t servants until they hit their teens. They were never meant to be children who were cuddled and loved. They were always meant to serve their masters.”
A sick realization flowed through me. “The vampires were breeding slaves.”
“I don’t particularly like that word, but you’re not wrong.” Jareth turned grim. “The dhampirs accepted their lot in life for years. Eventually, however, they started to push back. Like any creature in their position, they wanted to throw off their chains and be free.
“They were stronger than humans, and when they fed on human blood they grew even stronger,” he said. “The more human blood they ingested, the stronger they became.”
“They were ravaging the Romanian population,” Aurora surmised.
“Yes, and it was already weak.” Jareth pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead.
“Two plagues decimated the country. The first was in 1738.
Bubonic plague killed more than 50,000 people.
The second was between 1813 and 1814, also bubonic plague.
It ravaged Bucharest and led to severe quarantine measures.
“In the wake of the plagues, the population was down,” he supplied. “Vampires knew to be careful with killing. They didn’t want to kill off their favorite source of sustenance. It was recommended that they drink, but not to the death, and keep track of their victims.”
“Sounds all very orderly,” I said.
“It was supposed to be. The dhampir ranks, however, decided they didn’t want to follow the rules.
There are times when what’s best for everyone is not willingly embraced because it’s human nature to care about yourself more than anything else.
The Dhampirs needed the power associated with the blood to shake off their chains.
They were not looking to the future but the present. ”
“It’s weird,” Aurora mused. “Back in the day, they shut down entire cities — nobody in and out — to stop sickness. People won’t stand for that now. They’d rather the sickness run rampant through the population.”
“I’ve been in plenty of places where they still shut down cities and villages,” Brody said. “The insistence on putting personal needs ahead of the community only happens in more affluent countries.”
Jareth nodded in agreement. “The dhampirs refused to curtail their activities. They wanted freedom and they didn’t care how they got it. I understand why they wanted it and even agreed with their plight. Their methods, however, forced the vampires to take matters into their own hands.”
Jareth paused for what felt like a long time before continuing.
“It was called the purge,” he said in an even voice. “The vampire masters agreed they had to stop what was happening. They joined together to wipe out the dhampirs. They called it a failed experiment, but it was a blood bath.”
I could picture blood in the streets, terrified dhampirs running for their lives. It made me sad, and yet I understood why it had to happen. That made me feel worse.
“Ninety-five percent of the dhampir population was wiped out,” Jareth supplied. “Some escaped. Word of what had to be done spread through Europe and other countries started wiping out their dhampir populations.”
“The surviving dhampirs came here,” Booker guessed.
“It was easier to hide. We had more land than population. The dhampirs set up just outside of cities, acted like contributing members of the society, and then quietly killed to sustain themselves.”
He held up the book. “This codex belongs to one of them. His name was Bogdan. He was known as Bogdan the Beastly. He settled in New Orleans, which begs the question of how this book ended up here.”
“I’m guessing he didn’t do great things in New Orleans to get the beastly tag,” I said.
“He was a serial killer,” Jareth said. “The word can apply to vampires as well as humans. He slaughtered humans and other dhampirs alike. He wanted to prove his dominance.
“He talks in great detail about the people he killed,” he continued. “He goes on and on about the dhampirs he tortured. The cover of the book is skin from a dhampir victim. His evil was poured into the book and it took on a life of its own.”
That must have been what I felt.
“What happened to Bogdan?” Aurora asked.
“We’ll get to that in a moment.” Jareth gave her a reassuring smile.
“It’s important that you understand one thing: Bogdan lived a very long time.
He supposedly lived eighty years in Romania before the purge, then spent fifty years in the New World exploring before landing in New Orleans.
Once there, he lived another hundred years. ”
I did the math. “Did he age?”
Jareth shook his head. He seemed excited that I understood. “He should have been showing his age in New Orleans. The blood kept him young. He drank from other dhampirs. He looked the same and his strength never wavered.”
“And the other dhampirs turned him into a legend,” I realized. “They thought he found the well of immortality.”
“Yes.”
“Which is what Declan was seeking.”
“Again, yes.” Jareth shifted in his chair. This story made him uncomfortable. “Bogdan went by many names. In the 1960s, he supposedly came to our island.”
“He’s here?”
“No. At least I don’t believe he is. Once it became apparent he had, I called for reinforcements from the mainland.”
“You killed him,” Galen guessed.
“I wish.” Jareth was grim. “We were on to him. We knew what he was and what he planned. I had a group of vampires to hunt him. Several of the other paranormals, including shifters and witches, joined us.
“The plan was to hunt and kill him,” he continued. “We had him in the jungle. We were closing in. Then … .” He trailed off and held out his hands in helpless fashion.
“He disappeared like Declan,” I realized. Things were starting to come together. “Declan wasn’t the dhampir here before. He didn’t return under a different identity. It was Bogdan. He took over everything Bogdan owned.”
Delight sparked in Jareth’s eyes. “You’re really quite intelligent. I’m so thankful. Sometimes you say ridiculous things, and no matter how cute it is, I worry you’d fall victim to your own na?veté. I’m glad to see that’s unlikely.”
He probably meant it as a compliment. “Thank you.”
Galen sent me an amused smile. “So Bogdan was here. Declan came here because he was chasing the legend. He wanted the same immortality. He went about getting it the same way Bogdan did.”
“That’s it in a nutshell,” Jareth confirmed. “This book was not supposed to be here. It was supposedly lost in New Orleans when residents there rose up to kill Bogdan. I’m not sure how it ended up here, unless Bogdan brought it.”
“Maybe Declan found it and used it as a template,” I said. “He could’ve bought it on the black market or something.”
“Perhaps, but this codex is so sought after I have trouble understanding how he got his hands on it. The vampires want it as much as the dhampir population, but they want to destroy it.”
“Is it possible that Bogdan went through a plane door when you were hunting him?” Booker asked. “Is that how he got away?”
“I never considered it,” Jareth replied. “I assumed he died trying to evade us, eventually growing so weak he couldn’t protect himself. But now… .”
“Maybe he’s on the other plane with Declan,” I said. “Perhaps Declan figured out where he went. Did you tell Declan the story?”
“I did. I wanted him to get a handle on himself. We don’t hunt dhampirs the same way we used to but there’s a great deal of distrust. I wanted him to settle down and accept his lot in life.
“I told him what I knew of Bogdan as a cautionary tale,” he continued. “I’m afraid he took it a different way.”
“He wanted to right Bogdan’s wrongs and become bigger,” Galen guessed. “He wanted to be his own legend.”
“Yes.” Jareth blew out a sigh. “I knew he took over Bogdan’s property. I didn’t see any harm in it. If Bogdan returned, he would have been killed. I thought it was fine and yet now I’m not so certain.”
“Maybe they’re together on the other plane,” I said. “Maybe they’re a team and want me to use my magic to get them back.”
“That would be disastrous.”
“I don’t plan to help them,” I assured him. “I am curious about one thing.”
Jareth lifted his eyes and waited patiently.
“There’s a mural in Declan’s house,” I explained, going into great detail about what I’d found. I told him about seeing my mother, then wondering if it might be May. “Who painted that mural? Is it my mother? Is it May?”
“I don’t know.” Jareth looked apologetic. “I’m as curious as you are.”
“Any ideas on where we look next?” Galen asked.
Jareth glanced down at the codex. “I need to read this to see if it contains any clues.”
“Okay.” Galen flashed a small smile. “We’ll give you tonight to read it. Then we’ll regroup tomorrow.”
Weariness washed over Jareth’s face. “I thought this was behind me. Now it seems two failed hunts are coming back to haunt me.”
“We’ll fix it,” I promised him. “Together. We won’t let them come back here to pick up where they left off.”