The Snow Vampire Read Online Free Page B

to change all that. A wandering priest came into town, a friar who was said to be as wild as any beast in the wood. The good brothers took him in, of course, as they would any wayward traveler. But this man had an evil influence on them. He convinced the brothers to turn their backs on God and their sacred duties. Instead of helping lost travelers, they robbed them. And worse—they performed black rites late at night, outside in the courtyard of their monastery, even deep into the wintertime.”
    “It must be difficult to do evil when you’re up to your arse in snow,” I whispered under my breath to Hendrik, who stifled a laughing reply.
    If Grandmamma noticed our insubordination, however, she kindly ignored it and proceeded with her story. “It was in that courtyard where the greatest evil occurred. It was said that the monks had built a great black altar where they would sacrifice unwary travelers who wandered near their doors. Soon the place began to have the foulest of reputations, and no traveler would dare take the dreaded road through the Mesnek pass. Since no one came through Pilsden anymore, the town suffered. Then, late at night, the brothers began to sneak into town, stealing livestock for their tables and their black sacrifices.”
    At this, Hendrik kicked me hard in the shins under the table. I could tell he was bursting fit to laugh again at the image of monks tucking chickens or goats under their arms and trudging back up the mountain with them, but silently I willed him to hold his peace, and he did.
    “Then one night, they took a small child for their evil purposes. It was the eve of St. Stephen’s Day. The wind breathed loud, and snow pelted the mountains, but the townspeople all heard the child’s final, agonizing screams, even above the howl of the wind itself. At last, they decided, enough was enough. Grabbing torches and knives they stormed the monastery. They slaughtered every last monk they saw and set fire to the whole place. Finally, they cornered the mad friar who had led these men down their evil path. It was said that he had eyes as red as blood and cloven hooves for feet. He snarled at the men who trapped them, biting and kicking them, but they were many and he was one, and soon they overpowered him. The villagers took the mad monk to the monastery courtyard to try him for his wicked crimes. It was just approaching dawn, and as the sun rose, the villagers were horrified to see that the snow of the courtyard was stained red everywhere, red with the blood of hundreds of murdered innocents. They quickly added more red to the snow as they disemboweled the mad monk and sent him on to his evil master.”
    Here Grandmamma paused to take a sip of tea, and Hendrik used the interval to finally speak up. “And now he haunts the place, does he?” he asked. “That seems rather more a ghost story than a vampire tale.”
    “Wait,” I told him impatiently. “There’s more to be told. Go on, Grandmamma.”
    Grandmamma paused again, taking another sip. It was clear to her by now that she had an eager, engrossed audience, and it was also clear she was going to enjoy every minute of our rapt attention while it lasted. “The next day,” she finally resumed, “a few men from the village went up to the monastery to scavenge what they could. Oh, most thought that the place was evil, but the winter had been hard, and with no travelers coming through the pass, goods were not easy to come by. They left at daybreak, but they never returned. The day after, a larger party of men went looking for them. They went up to the old monastery. At first, nothing seemed out of order. Everything appeared calm and tranquil. But soon the men realized—the monks were all gone.”
    “All gone?” Hendrik interrupted. “How do dead men get up and walk away? Or were they not dead to begin with?”
    “She means their bodies were gone, you jackanapes,” I said, playfully punching Hendrik’s arm. Hendrik rubbed the spot