Field of Blood by Wilson, Eric (pdf e book reader .TXT) 📕

“It’s okay, Megiste.” Ariston pressed fingertips against his forehead. “I’ve just been getting so ill-tempered, what with this intruder business and these migraines I’ve been experiencing.”

“You too?”

“Nothing unbearable. Not most days, anyway.”

“A dull drone?”

“Yes.” He shot her an inquisitive look.

Eros spoke up. “Megiste and I discussed the same thing on the train. It doesn’t seem to bode well for us, I’m afraid.”

“The sensation grows,” Ariston said, “until it would seem I have a thousand flies buzzing between my ears.” He stopped at the entry to the farmhouse. “Hail Hades, some nights I can barely think. The longer I’m in this host, the more my focus seems corrupted by these human proclivities.”

“I’m sure it’s a passing phase.”

“One can only hope.” Ariston opened the front door, gesturing them inside.

Ruins of Soimos Castle, Romania

From behind a remnant wall of the hilltop castle, camouflaged by twilight, Benyamin Amit watched. He blinked. Refocused. He pressed his eye to the lens of his Swarovski scope, training the reticule on the woman’s face down in the vineyard that hugged an adjacent slope.

She was new to the premises, yet he was certain he’d seen her before. The memory of that pale neck and auburn ringlets swam beneath his thoughts, shadowed and difficult to distinguish. As he imagined running a finger over her thin, shapely lips, his foot began to ache.

When she and the man called Flavius Totorcea stepped into the house, Benyamin was left with a sense of disquiet. Who was she? And why was she here?

What was he doing here, for that matter?

“Megiste and Eros,” said Helene. “Why, how nice to see you. How is Kiev?”

Eros gave her a velvety kiss on the cheek. “Pleasant, this time of year.”

“And your household—are they all well?”

“With Erota off in Atlanta, we’re down to five, but we’re fine, thank you. Dorotheus is managing affairs while I’m gone.”

“Tell your mother hi for me.”

“Certainly.”

Shelamzion stepped in from the kitchen. “Welcome.” Her greeting did not match her cold stare as she took Megiste’s long fur coat and draped it from an antler rack to the right of the stone fireplace.

Megiste rubbed her hands at the hearth and chose to ignore the chilly demeanors of Auge and Shelamzion. These women and their jealousies. For good reason, she had followed Eros’s lead by never marrying, and she found secret amusement in their trite concerns.

“Is there a meal underway?” Ariston said.

“Of course, dear heart. I’m serving muschi as a main course.”

“Sounds wonderful, Helene,” said Eros.

“And to think that I’ll be missing out.” Ariston still had on his overcoat.

“You’re leaving?”

“You know I am. If you remember, my doe, I’m off on a visit with the vintner from Hunedoara. Need to leave right away, actually. I’m hoping to tap him for his every wine-making secret. My apologies for running off, but I should be back late this evening.”

“Not too late, sir. We have sooo much catching up to do.”

Though Megiste’s words lowered dark veils over the faces of the House of Ariston women, she chose not to acknowledge their pettiness. As Ariston marched out to the vineyard’s car, she let the tangy sweetness of pork in the air play through her nostrils, and she winked at Helene in a show of approval. Food would be a treat, even as she longed for something more substantial that her body could absorb.

The rumbling of the car’s engine had faded by the time Sol came in from the slopes, his face flushed, his breathing labored. After abbreviated greetings, he said to Eros, “Listen, I meant to tell my father, but now that he’s gone I think you should know. I noticed something odd on my way in from the fields.”

“Oh, what is it?”

“Hypothetically, I wonder if the intruder he’s seen could be a woman.”

“Go on.” Eros touched a finger to his chin. “I try to take everything into consideration.”

“There was a city taxi that passed by not long ago, from Arad. It’s not a common sight this far out, but I thought nothing of it until it passed back the other direction only minutes later.”

“Is there anywhere to be dropped east of here?” Megiste asked.

“Not for many kilometers. Which is precisely what piqued my curiosity. And that’s when,” Sol said, “I saw her. This middle-aged woman ducked down, but stood straight again when she realized she had no place to hide. She shuffled by on thick legs and pretended she had no interest in me.”

“This was along your property’s fence?”

“Near the gate, yes. She had a boy with her as well. They’re still out there, I’m certain, though I’m unclear as to their intentions. The woman’s hair was pulled back in a bun, with features similar to ours.”

“Jewish, perhaps?” Helene said. “Mrs. Dalia Amit, I would venture. She and Benyamin have a son, and she’s come by city hall on a few occasions—to check on her husband’s activities, if you want to know what I think.”

Eros pointed Sol toward the door. “Go get the poor woman and child.”

“And do what with them?”

“Is there some place we can question them in private?”

“The warehouse,” Sol admitted. “But I don’t think it would be—”

“You don’t think. Yes, your father’s told me of this problem of yours.”

“I’m a grown man. I see no need for bowing to his every whim and fancy. I—”

“Go. Now,” Eros kept his voice even and low, yet Megiste knew he was incensed with such insubordinance. “We’ll meet you in the warehouse in five minutes.”

Megiste ran a hand along her neck as she watched Ariston’s sniveling son stomp outdoors. “It’s been a long day,” she said. “Am I the only one feeling thirsty?”

CHAPTER

THIRTY-FIVE

Soimos Castle

Still vigilant, Benyamin repositioned himself against the remnant wall.

Months ago, Cal Nichols had tried to recruit him in a campaign against these killers, the undead from the Field of Blood, who had torn men to shreds and sucked every drop from their veins. Though Benyamin had tried to drown out those Dead Sea images, Nickel’s reappearance had