"Why are you burying her?" Elizabeth asked, snapping him out of his thoughts. The surprising thing was that she hadn't said anything until now, really.
Jonathan drove the shovel into the ground, pulled back, uprooting the earth gathered there. A simple movement, a repetition in which he could take refuge from thinking about other things.
Indeed, he didn't want to think too much.
The future stretched out before him, big, dark and unknown. Yes, he allowed himself to think too much, he would be afraid to take a single step. Maybe it wouldn't hurt if they talked. To discuss what had just happened beyond the superficial.
"I think she deserves a little respect. Of human dignity."
Elizabeth snorted.
"Really? Come on, you're a pirate, you can't tell me you're such a prude. Respect, dignity, for someone who wanted to kill you? Who, in fact, killed you?"
"I'm not a good man, not even a decent one," Jonathan said, shrugging his shoulders. And digging. Mostly digging. He wouldn't even look her in the eye. "But, I don't know, I guess dying puts some things in perspective."
"How?"
"For example, this is how my story is going to end. The only thing that's not clear yet is whether I'll be able to take the Count with me to hell or not. And that I ruined my life myself, long before that monster came along to... do what he did to my family. Myself and no one else."
He swallowed hard.
For a moment, he thought she would shut up.
That would be enough for her. At least for the moment. But he'd had too high expectations.
"Okay, it's all very well for you to be reflecting," she continued, crossing one leg over the other, crossing her arms, too. "But what does that have to do with you bothering to bury someone who only came here to kill you?
"Do you care that much?" His answer wasn't an answer. It was like running away, almost. He knew it. But...
"Not really. But I'm curious."
Wanted to make him talk, whatever it took, huh? Jonathan gave a crooked smile. He supposed it was his fault for opening his mouth to begin with.
More importantly, though, there was something about the assassin's face that bothered him.
It was intact. Recognizable. Not like the killer who had gone after Elizabeth, that one's head had been blown off and his brains scattered around the office. What was bothering him so much? Soon after, it dawned on him. He should have realized it from the beginning, but it was just that it was silly. Her face was disappearing under the dirt he threw over the corpse. That was it. Jonathan chuckled to himself, under his breath. What was wrong with him?
"Maybe I already explained it to you," he answered at last, "and you can't understand why because we're too different."
"We're the same kind of trash. In fact, you're worse than me. I've been doing things cleanly for years."
"Feeling fancier, maybe, but you haven't changed, you're a pirate in fine clothes, nothing more. And me... I think dying has made me more human. I don't regret defending myself, obviously. Nor anything I've done or will have to do to make that bastard get what he deserves. But she..."
"What? Spit it out at once!" It was the first time.
The first time she'd broken her mask of composure, that her controlled tone had disappeared, revealing the person behind it. He had offended her. Jonathan hadn't been overly measured with his words, so it wasn't astounding, but he hadn't expected her to be offended by, essentially: once a pirate, always a pirate.
Was she ashamed, did she regret it?
Did she want to change her life and the opportunity was denied her? Well, then you are not the only one.
"She was important to someone," Jonathan said, finally.
Silence.
"That? That's all?" She said slowly and after a while.
"Yes. That's all."
——
It took the Count a long time to realize that the wounded bird he had been taking care of was no longer there. That, in fact, it was nowhere to be found, it had left this world.
He looked at the woman's mangled corpse laid out on the table.
Cold now, no warmth, except for touches of blood on her cheeks, her forehead, her neck. All over. Blood everywhere.
But not a drop of warmth.
"Another one who left me," the Count said, after a while, his voice barely a whisper. Then he passed a hand, clenched into a fist, over his eyes.
Wiping his tears.
——
It was all done, for better or worse, the bitch was six feet under. His whole body ached. Breathing heavily, he sat down to get some rest. He took a deep breath.
As Jonathan did so, his whole body trembled. As if he had a punctured lung and couldn't breathe properly.
This was more than just physical fatigue. But it will pass.
It was comforting, to be able to tell himself that whatever happened to him, it wouldn't end him. Because nothing and no one could kill him, except for the one person in the world who was like him. I am alone in many ways, he thought.
This started because... I lost my family.
My brother betrayed me. And this woman is just using me. I am alone in too many ways.
He had sat down beside the makeshift grave. Now he got up and moved away from it as if he expected the woman sleeping below to get up again, just like him.
""I know I'm a bastard for waiting to ask you this until you're done," Elizabeth said, "but aren't you planning to make her one of your soldiers? And don't give me that shit about her being important to someone. By that logic, you should let them all go."
"I know. But..." He shook his head. "No."
"Why?"
Jonathan clicked his tongue. He couldn't let it go. She always had to know, to inquire. Partly because she'd been a pirate captain, he supposed. Or maybe she had been that way even before she took on that role.
Maybe she'd been so good at it because her personality had predisposed her to success.
"What did it matter? She'd just be another body. It's not as if I could make her use her own special skills.
"The Count can," she said matter-of-factly. "But it's true, you're just getting started. You have a long way to go."
Once again, Jonathan thought of the fire. And what burned inside. Dreams and hopes. A family. Family?
They couldn't be together even in death.
"You don't have to tell me. I know that."
Was he responding to that woman, or was he responding to his own thoughts?
——
The Count staggered blindly through the corridors of his palace. Dark, empty and endless. With a blood-soaked metal rod in his right hand. Still hot. He didn't care, though, nor did he feel it. Too busy with his thoughts. Which traced the same circles as always.
The same corridors.
Dark, empty.
Endless.
"There is nothing real. Nothing."
The sense of your being began with the individual recognizing himself in contrast to others. The first "other" is the parents.
But the Count was alone in this world so cold, so dark.
All alone.
There was no person like him, not a single one.
Oh, how many times, how many times had he tried to end it all? With swords, with hellfire, in a thousand possible ways. How many times had he tried to return to that island, hoping to end his curse at its source? But once you tasted the waters, you couldn't see the way back.
It had been so easy to get there. By chance, as if it had been predestined.
But he couldn't find his way back.
The island was lost to him. Forever. And... he was lost, too, without another.
Without a mirror to look into.
He saw a real mirror as he wandered aimlessly. His face was repulsive. Pleasant features, it had always been like that, but repulsive to him all the same. The Count plunged the knife into the mirror in the middle of the hallway.
Blowing it into a thousand pieces.
Making his own image explode, too.
"That's why I need you. I need you."
That man named Jonathan. The captain of the Red Eagle. The man had passed through Elesbury like a tide of death, plunging the town into darkness.
An equal.
A mirror to look into.
At last, at last, at last, at last, at last....
——
He had finally finished his job, at least. Two assassins had attacked, but Jonathan had no intention of burying the other. The same applied to both assassins, of course. But there was one crucial difference.
The other had attacked Elizabeth and had been dispatched by the aforementioned. Not by him. So he didn't feel responsible in any way.
Let Elizabeth do what she wanted with him. If she hadn't already.
He should have been able to get some rest, but life wasn't so kind. Shortly after his talk with Elizabeth ended, a sharp sound pierced the air and rattled his skull.
Jonathan brought his hands to his head, clenching. The sound was so loud it hurt like he was being stabbed.
"What is it now? "Elizabeth asked. Only then did he realize that she hadn't reacted, as he had only been worried about himself.
He didn't understand why she didn't even flinch at this, but wasn't it obvious? That infernal sound would make anyone react like that.
"Don't you hear it?"
"Hear what?"
Hear what? Really, what?
That sound, so loud and piercing, as if emitted by a gigantic bell. Loud to the point that it not only hurt, you couldn't tell where it was coming from, not from here at least. It was impossible for him alone to hear this shit....
Unless he'd lost his mind.
No. No, this has to be something else.
It's got to be important.
"Hey, wait. Where are you going?"
He had no intention of going very far.
He was headed for the tallest building in Elesbury.
No, it wasn't the mansion, although its shadow reigned over the dead city, engulfing everything. It was a tower not far from the square, in the center, the heart of the city.
Jonathan reached the foot of the building and began to scale the facade without a moment's hesitation.
He was used to this kind of thing, after all. It had been years since he had climbed anything but masts, but there were some things you just didn't forget. One of the few pleasures of his childhood was climbing everywhere, imagining them to be ancient ruins and not a slum, drowning in shit.
Casting himself as some kind of fairy tale hero, rather than a street rat who never had enough to fill his stomach.
He had been progressing easily and quickly upward, but something went awry. The rock he was looking for a grip on turned out not to be solid enough. As it turned out, it was coming loose from the wall.
A cloud of dust fell on his face, debris rained down.
And he almost fell, too.
"Fuck."
He might be immortal, but looking down wasn't very pleasant for him, anyway. And, to top it off, that bell was still ringing, audible only to him. The sound wasn't getting louder and louder. It wasn't that he was getting closer, if one could get closer to something coming from nowhere.
But even at this level, it was enough to drive someone crazy.
To make you dizzy, no matter how used to climbing the masts of a ship you might be. Up to the highest point, and then back down again. Had to focus.
To continue climbing.
Making use of the rocks on the wall, of the windows as a foothold, of metal bars, to hold on to and stand on to climb. Everything that came within reach, if only to go a little faster.
To the top.
The highest point of Elesbury, the town he had killed with his own hands. Elesbury, the true beginning of his journey. His revenge. Because now he had the power to accomplish it. Before, he had been nothing more than another insect to that Count.
You have to admit something. The views are wonderful.
A pity that the city, as he had said, was dead.
Jonathan had come up here, despite the danger, moved only by a strange impulse. The feeling that he could determine the location of the sound, that everything would be clearer. It was just a stupid idea if it didn't work. And, for one reason or another, it worked. That's how it went.
Jonathan now knew it.
He descended slower than he had come up. A lot more.
When he got downstairs, Elizabeth had been waiting there for a while, arms folded, silent. She looked at him like a madman or a fool. He was both, perhaps. But not for this.
"Have you finally lost your mind?"
Jonathan winced. That incessant bell was already enough.
"Turn down... turn down the volume. My head hurts like it's going to split in two. But not. That sound definitely exists. It's like a call," and he only defined it while speaking, but as soon as it left his lips, he knew it was true. The sound was far away. Monotonous. But not his heartbeat, that sound was getting louder. Excitement? Fear? "I have to go see what it is."
Elizabeth shook her head, exasperated.
"I'm betting everything on you. So I'll follow. Damn wacko."
Jonathan really didn't care if she intended to come with him or not. He could manage alone. And if she turned out not to be able to, regardless of what she found on the other side, well, what was the worst they could do? Kill him?
He smiled.
"As you wish," Jonathan said.
They headed towards the port, wasting no time.
The place was as dead and empty, of course, as the rest of the city. The citizens had been evacuated, and the sailors got the hell out. For they could face the sea and other pirates, and the law even, but looking death in the eye was another story.
Among those who had fled was Leonard, of course. His brother.
He shook his head almost imperceptibly.
He had a feeling that Elizabeth had noticed, though. Not only of that slight, barely perceptible movement, but also of his thoughts. As if she could see right through him. Read him like an open book.
He would hear nothing but the sound of waves and perhaps birdsong in the distance.
Yes, he would.
He could hear nothing but that damned bell. And his own agitated heart. Nothing else.
In any case, the harbor wasn't completely empty. At least there was one rowboat left. Enough room for two people, perhaps one more. Although very cramped. They entered the boat, sat down.
"Go ahead. I can't hear anything, so you'll have to guide us."
Yeah. Yeah, of course.
Jonathan took a deep breath. Instinctively, he knew he had to answer the call or the bell would never stop ringing, never leave him alone, until it drove him completely insane. Or really made his head explode. But now he felt some apprehension. About what he might find on the other side.
Thinking of the myriad fates worse than death, he picked up the oars and set to work. Following the sound. Closer and closer. Louder and louder.
Despite the fear, Jonathan was also excited to get to the other side of the sound, to answer the call. Because he had changed. And he had to accept all that that entailed. They stepped out of the door. Out of the shadow created by the entrance to the cavern and with it the city built there.
But they didn't get much further. Without warning, the boat capsized. Groaning in surprise, they both fell into the water. Any pirate could swim out of necessity, of course. That wasn't the problem.
The problem was that he felt something wrap around one ankle. And pulling him into the depths. Couldn't it just be seaweed or something like that, nothing more, and panic had done the rest? No. Because logic dictated that something had to have overturned the boat.
But mostly because of the feeling.
Whatever it was, it was sticky. Warm. And strong.
Squeezing his ankle tighter and tighter and tighter.
Something alive. And wishing him no good.
Jonathan unsheathed his sword.
With the movement, he also looked down. What gripped his ankle was some kind of tentacle. A sea beast.
Did it belong to a kraken, the true terror of the seas? He didn't think it was such a normal thing. Not after hearing that mysterious call. It didn't matter, something terrible, anyway. And that wanted to bury him in the depths of the sea.
One, two, three strikes. He had begun to worry, but three blows were enough to sever the tentacle, freeing himself. Jonathan began to swim to the surface. Before he ran out of air. Along the way, he was distracted, though it was the last thing he would want at a time like this.
For he had seen Elizabeth, his only ally in this... a complete stranger. And she wasn't faring too well. Like him a moment ago, but worse, she had both her legs trapped. And she couldn't return, if she died, it was over. So she was working against the clock.
But, out of fear, she made an inexcusable mistake.
She pulled a gun from her belt, took aim, fired. And of course, nothing happened. The water had ruined the fucking powder. Elizabeth's eyes widened as she realized she'd spent precious seconds on absolutely nothing, yes, nothing but giving whatever was in the water a chance to catch her arm, too.
Well, it couldn't be helped.
Jonathan headed toward her. With one arm, she wasn't going to get out on her own. Not in time, anyway.
His heart was pounding against his chest like a battering ram trying to break down a castle door. He didn't want to get caught again. He didn't want to have to find out what could happen to him if that were to happen. But he needed her help.
Jonathan needed someone to show him the way.
Saving her from the tentacles, cutting the three off one after the other, wasn't hard. What was difficult was getting rid of the other tentacles that appeared and came after him.
In fact, he didn't manage it.
Just when he thought he was free, he got his boots grabbed. It wasn't a good grip, but he was trapped nonetheless. Elizabeth, of course, kept swimming to the surface anyway. She had no time to waste. On the brink of death, running out of air.
Understandable. But still he felt a stab of anger, as if he had been betrayed.
Once again.
Betrayed. Abandoned.
He gritted his teeth.
Jonathan didn't point the sword at the tentacle. He could dispose of a tentacle with three or so blows. But, in the meantime, the other half dozen tentacles were bearing down on him. And he would be lost.
So, instead, he cut off his foot.
Yes. He cut off his right foot. That's how he got free. He didn't need that to swim. Soon, he pulled his head out of the water. He took a deep breath and shot out to the nearest piece of land.
The same one where Elizabeth was, naturally. Around there he had hidden his monsters before entering the city.
He made it to land before the tentacles caught him.
Jonathan turned around.
Facing the endless blue sky. The blood wouldn't stop falling. So much blood, driven out faster by the wild beating of his heart.
But they were safe. For the moment.
Or were they?
Jonathan barely felt the pain of the foot that had been cut. But that was because even now, the call of the spectral bell wouldn't cease. A dark call, for his ears alone.
His whole body ached.
——
Hundreds of miles away, in a castle lost in the mist, Count Dracula stood up, smiling. Let's see, he heard a bell.
Something like a call.
New, at any rate. Something new after so, so long.
Unfamiliar and therefore more real than anything else. A wild grin split his face in two.
——
He had cut off one of his feet quickly.
Jonathan didn't mean that it had sufficed with a single blow, as opposed to the tentacles, although that too, of course. He meant that he hadn't hesitated. Not for an instant.
In the water, he had seen things clearly.
It was a foot or his life. Now it wasn't so clear to him.
Not even if he could afford to have cut off his foot. Yes, his head had been blown off and everything had gone back to normal afterward, as if nothing had happened. But the head was essential.
You could still live without a foot.
He didn't have time to worry about that, though. Elizabeth was pulling him up.
"Get up. Come on!"
Half a dozen tentacles came out of the sea, splashing a great deal of water. It was like a massive waterfall. They were only the limbs of the enemy; the real creature was down there, in the depths. Perhaps awakened by the same call that had brought it here.
An unknown creature. Powerful and fresh as a daisy.
Whereas he couldn't even run. Not yet, at least. And not before those tentacles lunged for him.
Which was what they did in the next instant.