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"And the
vechi brbat? You say he was grieving. For his lost wife?"
"Yes. He loved her very much. So much that he would do anything to be with her again. And did."
"What did he do?"
"He roamed the forest at night, calling on the bad spirits of the old gods, the ones from his life before the village when he lived with the Gypsies, before the Christian god became the one god. He begged the darkest elementals, the angriest spirits of nature to aid him. He promised them that he would do anything if they would allow him to again be with his wife."
Nita felt her heart race. She knew her eyes darted around the room, looking for what? Escape? Yes, she wanted to escape. This room, these people. The story that had gone so very wrong.
"Then what happened?"
"The storms came. The village is nestled in a valley, and the land flooded. Blinding lightning shot from the sky and struck the
vechi brbat. His skin blackened, and the pale brown color of his eyes turned white, as did his hair and beard. When he returned to the village he had become…different."
"Different how?"
She tried to avoid his questions. "The villagers, they were so busy trying to save themselves, the crops, the animals, to recapture their way of life. The flood forced mud down the side of the mountain that buried much of what had been rescued. Red-streaked mud, as if the mountain were bleeding. Their numbers dwindled further. They saw it as a sign, that there were demons in the village. The
vechi brbat had brought havoc to their lives when they were struggling to recover. Naturally they blamed him."
There was silence for a moment. The man said softly, "What did they do to the
vechi brbat?"
Nita swallowed hard. "They could not kill him. He had been with them many years and was now one of their own. But they had to protect themselves."
"From what?"
"From the curse."
"What curse is that?"
Nita felt her legs begin to tremble uncontrollably, rattling the chains under the table. The room seemed too hot, the color of scorching yellow. "I'd like some water now, if you please," she said, trying yet again to redirect the grey man.
He got up and went to a side table and poured a glass of clear water. He set it in front of her but she did not touch it.
Once he was seated again he said, "Tell me about the curse."
Maybe, she thought, maybe if I tell it now, here, maybe someone will understand. The others before, the police, the medical men, Dr. Sauers, they had all been impatient, believing what they wanted to believe, not the truth, and she knew the truth. This man with hair and eyes the color of a vole who said he was listening, maybe he was listening. Maybe he would believe her.
She heard Dr. Sauers' nails again, tapping on the table, talons painted violent purple eager to rend flesh.
"Dr. Sauers, would you mind terribly if I spoke with Nita alone for a few minutes?"
"Why?" Sauers snarled. "This is irregular."
"Yes, it is. But I wonder if I might try a technique I've found that has had great success. If you wouldn't mind…"
Reluctantly Sauers got up from the table and obviously she did not appreciate this shift in the plan.
Sauers checked the camera for film.
"Thank you," the grey-headed man said cheerfully.
The doctor went out the door, closing it loudly behind her, not acknowledging him.
When she was gone, the man turned his head and smiled at Nita. "There. Now you can take your time telling me what happened."
For some reason Nita found this both reassuring and intimidating. She picked up the water with shaking hands and took a small sip, then set the glass back down, spilling a little that she wiped up with her sleeve. She held onto the glass, as if letting go might leave her floating in a colorless universe.
"What did the villagers do to the
vechi brbat?"
"They put him in a cage and kept him there. He lived in the cage day and night. They fed him only a little blood, from time to time, to keep him alive, but this is how he existed."
"And when the original villagers died?"
"For the first season all the villagers cared for him, but soon, as winter approached, one woman offered to take the
vechi brbat into her home, and it was then that he lived in the cage all the time. She…looked after him, and then her daughter, and so on. It soon became the unspoken rule that only one took responsibility for him. One woman of each generation, the task handed down to the next in line, the eldest. Eventually my grandmother was responsible."
"And with your mother gone, you were next in line?"
Nita's hands trembled and felt white cold. "Yes."
The man paused. "And this responsibility, to take care of, to live with the
vechi brbat, is this something you wanted for yourself?"
"I…I don't know," she said. No one had asked her this.
Bunic had not. It was assumed that Nita would go to school, then return home to the village and bear children, raising only one girl child, and that she would look after the ancient one who would live with her, in the cage, as it had been with all the women before her.
"Tell me, you said the
vechi brbat walked in the village, and he tried to touch you in the forest. So he was no longer in a cage."
"Somewhere back in time it was determined by a woman who cared for him that if he were not permitted to eat he would be weak and he could then be allowed to roam free at dusk, provided a chain was attached to his ankle with a long rope. This seemed to work out, and the villagers agreed. Anyway, he could not tolerate the sun and always returned to the cage during the day."
"Like a vampire," the grey-haired man said.
"Exactly like a vampire."
"And he was fed blood."
"Yes."
"What kind of blood?"
"The blood of the village."
The man looked a little shocked by this revelation. "Not animals?"
"No. His body could not tolerate their blood. Only human."
"Did he drink your blood?"
"Sometimes."
"How…how was this done? Did he bite you?"
"Of course not!" she said, feeling the tension building in her. "We would make cuts on our arms and legs, each person in the village taking a turn, and would provide a tin cup every day and he would drink that. It kept him alive."
"Why, over the centuries, did the villagers want to keep him alive?"
"Because it would be bad luck to kill him."
"But he'd brought disaster to the village, or so everyone thought?"
"But more disaster would come from killing him. He was a Gypsy. He had been in touch with the most evil spirits. They had come to him, heeded him, given him what he asked for. The villagers did not know what would happen if he were killed or released, but they knew they would be cursed and harm would come to them. They just did not know the nature of that harm."
"But you didn't believe that, did you? That his curse would bring disaster. That he was ancient. That he had brought back his dead wife."
A small sound slipped from Nita's lips. She felt a tear form in one eye and tried to brush it away but the sparkly multicolored drop slid down her cheek. Maybe…maybe he understood! "I…I… The university. They said it could not be so. That he was not old. That he was just a crazy man that everyone kept caged and starved, and that his dead wife had not returned but a woman in the village-my grandmother, and my mother-had slept with him to get pregnant."
"How did your mother die?"
That was too horrible. Nita could not bring herself to admit the suicide. Instead of answering his question, her mind raced on as if he hadn't interrupted. "The university professor said it was an example of a mythology that had gone terribly wrong, and the people wanted to blame someone for all their problems, and to torture him." She looked up at the grey man. "I went home to make it right."