After his encounter with the shape-shifters, Ambrose sulked away to Fazar, a tiny community in a mountainous region of Turkey. Desolate looking in appearance, Fazar looked more like a failed attempt at a town. Hidden in the midst of dark gray chiseled mountains, it was nearly isolated from the world beyond. The earth-tone, single and two story buildings that comprised the town, looked as if they sprung up out of the ground. The windows, doors and red hued shingles that adorned the roofs were the only parts of them that looked out of place with the landscape. Green vegetation was everywhere, forcing its way up through the cracks in the streets and along the base of the buildings. During the day the town looked nearly deserted. Only a handful of people wandered about the community at any one time. It was only at night, when the lights within the buildings contrasted against the dark, would anyone know that the town was fully occupied.
Ambrose's traverse to Fazar was not a random act. He had briefly visited this area before, more than one-hundred years earlier. He was never comfortable in the company of other vampires and vacated the area shortly after acquiring the lay of the land. He took with him the memory that vampire enclaves were hangouts for the displaced and disenchanted of his kind. Had he ever felt the need to socialize with other vampires, this would have been his first choice of places to be. Fazar was one of twenty-two vampire enclaves, situated about the planet, which was known to all veteran immortals. These enclaves served as gathering places where vampires could meet and converse with their own kind. The circumstance that brought Ambrose back to Fazar this day was a need to recruit others of his ilk.
Ambrose knew that a vampire enclave was the ideal location for forming alliances with other vampires. One to two dozen vampires passed through these enclaves monthly. On top of being places for immortals to meet and associate with their own kind, vampire enclaves served as message boards. The exchange of information and histories in these locales played an integral role in the vampire communication network. These enclaves were invariably small isolated communities in lawless or near lawless regions around the world. They were always controlled by a vampire that maintained an association with a mortal that had significant influence within the area. These associations were nearly always hinged on the promise that the human would be turned into a vampire at a future date. In exchange for this promise, the human would do the bidding of the vampire and the vampire would, in turn, protect the interests of the human. These associations between vampires and humans were always under the table dealings. This was due to the bylaw among vampires that forbade them from making their existence known to humans. These types of human/vampire dealings were generally accepted as a gray area within the vampire community. It was expected, under pain of death, that the vampire in question would one day fulfill their promise and turn the human into a vampire, or betray it, and kill him or her instead. Because of this understanding, powerful covens maintained a, "don't ask/don't tell," policy with regards to these transactions.
The vampires that visited these enclaves were obliged by circumstance not to forage for prey within the immediate vicinity. This was simply a matter of mathematics. A dozen vampires foraging for food within a small community would be impossible to hide from the notice of humans, even in a lawless community. Subsequently, the enclave was off limits for hunting purposes. The surrounding region, however, was fair game. Badlands were the hunting preserves of vampires. This was due solely to the fact that these areas were overstocked with humans who were expected to come to violent ends at some time in their near futures. An all you can eat buffet was a prerequisite for any good vampire enclave.
The vampires that regularly visited these enclaves were nearly always nomadic and half of them were solitary travelers. This was the lifestyle of a vampire that was discontented with the status quo. Generally speaking, they had no desire for maintaining a façade of innocuity for a community of humans so that they could move among them unnoticed. To many of these vampires, mortals were simply food. The idea of maintaining a friendly disposition before them was considered repugnant. The only thing that prevented them from slaughtering humans indiscriminately was the dominion of the territorial covens. Their comfortable existences within the human community were dependent upon a strict adherence, by all, to the vampire covenant. This was the primary divide between nomadic vampires and territorial covens. Vampire enclaves were the places where these discontented immortals went to grumble about their plights. In Fazar, Ambrose mingled among kindred spirits.
Ambrose wandered into the Fazar Vampire Den on the first night of his arrival. In reality it was a tavern that eked out an existence from a handful of human customers that ventured into the establishment on a daily basis. Most humans that entered here knew that there was something strange and dangerous about the individuals that lounged here for hours and hours. These humans always kept their attendance brief. The owner of the establishment, a local gang lord, was the only human that knew who and what these individuals were. The tavern was primarily a front for his criminal enterprises and a meeting hall for vampires that visited Fazar.
Ambrose took a seat at an empty table and monitored the talk among the six other vampires seated together at a table across from him. His solitary presence was at first was cause for suspicion for them. It was rare for a vampire to enter the den and not introduce themself to some other vampire in the room. News and information was freely traded in these vampire enclaves, but one had to converse to get it. After an hour of silence from the solitary vampire, the table of six began to relax and returned to speaking freely among themselves. Forty-five minutes after this Ambrose heard something that intrigued him enough to cut in.
"You speak the truth," Ambrose announced to the table of six vampires sitting across the room from him. "If the Olympic Coven had their way, none of us would be alive right now."
The vampire, Mateo, had just vocalized his distaste for the Olympic Coven's apparent disdain for strange vampires that entered their territory when Ambrose interjected this opinion.
"And you know this how, Little Vampire?" The vampire, Noah, grumbled back with a glare.
"The Olympic Coven is a particular interest of mind," Ambrose reported in a sly tone.
The table full of six vampires gave Ambrose a contemptuous stare after pausing from their discussion. Noah, the immortal that Ambrose responded to was a brawny, six-foot four-inch tall vampire with sandy blonde hair, brown eyes and a broad dimpled chin. The large vampire was dressed in a long, tan colored, tattered and dirty, buckskin oilcloth duster. His clothing beneath this was a nondescript gray T-shirt, tan khaki pants and brown workmen boots. His handsome face would have been pleasing enough to attract the smiles of most women were it not for the near constant grimace he kept on display there. His temperament was always in alignment with his facial expressions and his hostility was nearly always being kept grudgingly in check.
Noah's time as a vampire went back less than one-hundred years. His human life came to an end when a vampire found him broken and bleeding to death in a New York City alley. He was twenty-seven years old at the time. A dock worker by trade, Noah supplemented his income by hiring himself out as muscle to anyone who would pay. This was a practice that made for him many enemies, which was not an unusual situation for him. Abandoned as a baby a decade before the great depression, Noah spent the bulk of his first fifteen years of life in an orphanage, where he battled with and bullied the other children there. The institution finally kicked him out when he became too big for the adult staff to safely manage. A perpetually angry person, Noah was only truly contented when he was venting his rage out on someone else. This was a characteristic of his that he carried into his immortal existence. Noah had no fondness for the covens that governed his existence. The other vampires at this table shared this perspective.
"And why is that?" Mateo pleasantly questioned Ambrose's interest in the Olympic Coven.
Mateo studied Ambrose out the corner of his eyes with a sly smile on his face. A hefty, six-foot tall vam
pire, with piercing black eyes, a tan complexion and straight black hair that fell down to a length just below the tops of his shoulders, Mateo was significantly less imposing looking than Noah. He sported a goatee connected to a short beard that crowned the end of his jaw. His features were not unattractive and were helped by a sly smile that often adorned his face. Most humans that came to look upon him shortly learned the sinister thinking behind his jovial expression.
Mateo began his vampire life more than four-hundred years earlier in the crew quarters of a Spanish Galleon. An enterprising vampire decided to feast on a ship's crew while it was at sea and then sink the vessel along with all evidence of his deed. Mateo survived the carnage by accident and was permitted to go through the change. He took to his new situation quickly and with great enthusiasm. His prior thirty-six years as a pauper's child and an itinerant worker had made him hungry for a life at the top of the food chain. Suddenly for him the world was a chew toy that Mateo played with at his leisure.
"We share a history." Ambrose carefully spoke his answer to Mateo's query, after a furtive glance towards the bartender/proprietor.
The table of six vampires was intrigued by this answer and the glance that came before it, but all were reluctant to show it. In their minds, they all considered the possibility that the little vampire was lying or at best, exaggerating.
"You don't know anything?" Jia spat out with no small amount of disdain. "You're just another petty vampire with puffed up ideas about, himself."
Jia was a five-foot two inch tall female vampire, of Asian lineage, and Mateo's mate. Her long wavy black hair fell down to the top of her shoulders. She was very attractive in appearance and well-endowed physically, though you would not know this by her appearance. Her physique was well hidden beneath a black jacket; four sizes too big and a black skirt that fell down to the tops of her shoes. A broad rimmed black hat adorned her head and a pair of black hiking shoes completed her ensemble. Disdainful looks kept most humans at a distance from her, but this was of no inconvenience for Jia. She preferred to catch her prey on the run.
Jia's life as a vampire began more than six-hundred years earlier, when a coven of vampires elected to grant her request to become one of them. The motivation behind this request was a desire to avenge herself on a wealthy warlord and his compatriots after they raped and tormented her and a dozen others in her village. They then forced her to endure seeing all that she cared for murdered. Jia became convinced that it was her village's extreme poverty that gave the wealthy leave to amuse their selves at her expense. In Jia's mind, recompense for the pain of this event could only be satisfied by an equivalent act. She spent the next one-hundred and seventy years targeting the families and the descendants of the men who did this to her, one by one. When there was no one left to kill, she sought out new humans to satisfy her anger. The only prerequisite she had for all future victims was that they be financially secure and content. The pain and misery she inflicted on well-to-do mortals continued to be an appeasement for the rage that burned within her.
"I know all of them by smell, as well as by appearance and I know all of their strengths and all of their weaknesses." Ambrose softly spoke this with a smile on his face.
"Who cares what he knows," Jabarl gruffly retorted. "The Olympic Coven is nothing to us."
"Still, I would be interested in hearing what the little vampire knows," Noah quickly spoke up.
"He's after something," Jabarl asserted to Noah specifically.
Jabarl was a thin, six-foot two-inch tall male vampire with a strikingly tone and muscular physique. His dark, ebony brown complexion, betrayed his African lineage. His hair was short to the point of barely being visible from a short distance away. His facial features were chiseled and angular and were always masked over with an expression of anger, except when he chose to smile. This he did infrequently, but always without restraint. His generosity with his smiles was just his way of expressing his enjoyment for his pastimes. His smiles were among the last thing his human prey ever saw.
Jabarl became a vampire in the North West Province of South Africa in the year 1895. As a member of the Tswana peoples, indigenous to the region, Jabarl knew hardship and degradation under the dominion of the Dutch and the British. Despite this, he always managed to conceal his anger well enough to make a living as a laborer within their communities. His strength and endurance made him a valuable asset and his congeniality and intellect made him promotable, to a limit. When a Dutch female vampire arrived in human disguise, she quickly took a fancy to him and then turned him into a vampire shortly after that. Together they have preyed upon the humans from that day to this.
"Is that true, Little Vampire," Rozamond cheerfully queried as she leaned affectionately against Jabarl, her mate. "Are you after something?"
Rozamond was a buxom, six-foot tall, blue eyed female vampire. Her blonde hair, often in a single braid, fell halfway down her back. Her physique sported ample features and was moderately muscular in appearance. Excessively jubilant, she nearly always had a smile on display. For Rozamond, life was a smorgasbord of pleasures and she consumed them greedily, without regard for who they were.
"I seek only to share your company while I'm here," Ambrose replied tactfully.
"He lies," Jabarl sharply contradicted. "I can see it in his eyes."
"Is that true, Little Vampire," Rozamond queried with a sly smile? "Are you lying to us?"
As a human, Rozamond had a well-earned reputation as a promiscuous woman in her home community within the city of Rotterdam. She took her pleasures where she found them and apologized to no one for the act. On the last night of her human life, she made overt advances to a handsome stranger. The gentleman was highly amused by the attention. When she pressed her intentions into the seclusion of his home, the vampire within him could not stop himself from passing up the bite, despite his normal reluctance against harming someone he liked. In the end, however, the loss of her completely was more than he could stand. He chose instead to turn her and take her on as his mate. The handsome male vampire was initially happy with his choice. Two years into their coexistence he came to regret this decision. He found the appetite of his buxom mate equally great as a vampire as it had been when she was not. The carnage of human debris that she left behind her was more than he could share. They separated from each other's company before a third anniversary could be reached.
"I'm just making conversation," Ambrose slyly replied after a second furtive look towards the human bartender.
"Make conversation elsewhere," Jabarl demanded in an angry voice.
Ambrose was unfazed by the rebuke and countered it with a smile.
"What is your name?" Asked the only vampire left, that had not spoken before.
Ambrose returned her query with silence and a third furtive look towards the mortal.
Sabeen, Noah's mate, was a strikingly attractive female vampire with long straight black hair that dropped to a length two feet below her shoulders. She stood all of five-foot nine-inches in height. Large brown eyes and full lips made looking at her a delight for most men. She maintained a nearly constant bemused expression when she was in the presence of others. Slight movements of her head, whenever she looked about, gave her a regal air. There was no deception in her pleasing manner. Sabeen was always flattered by anyone's examination of her, especially men. She often encouraged this with smiles and blushes. However, for many humans this pleasant demeanor fell, sharply, away when she bored of their attentions.
Sabeen's transition from human to vampire occurred thirteen-hundred years earlier in the city of Thebes, along Egypt's Nile River. The daughter of a prosperous man, she was adored and pampered as a child. Her beauty was an asset that her father valued, and he quickly cashed it in when she reached the age of fourteen. Sold to a wealthy man, Sabeen eagerly consented to the marriage. She luxuriated in her husband's favor and in return gave hers unreservedly. Her life was one of idleness and play. Her husband catered to her excesses and turned
a blind eye to her extremes. Spoiled and conceited, Sabeen took pleasure in mistreating others for her own amusement. No act was too extreme if it entertained her to inflict it. Then suddenly and for the first time, her perfect life in Thebes took a turn for the worst. Her husband took another wife who was younger and every bit as pretty as she. Angered by the fact that she was no longer her husband's favorite, Sabeen took out her rage on anyone predisposed to endure it. Over the course of half a dozen years she engendered many enemies who wished to see her dead. A plan was hatched by her servants. Money was paid to a villain. Sabeen was taken from her home, stabbed and left for dead in the desert outside of Thebes. Drawn by the smell of blood, a male vampire, Hasan, came upon her mortally wounded person. Astonished by her beauty, he rescued her from death by turning her into a vampire.
Sabeen did not take to the transition at first. The absence of sycophants and servants, prestige and expensive adornments was at first a deprivation that was hard to live without. However, the freedom to be cruel to whomever she pleased soon balanced out this loss. She quickly came to relish her new powers and used them frequently. Scores of humans became victims of Sabeen's intolerance for boredom. She soon learned that her human talent for seducing men into doing her bidding was a thousand times more potent in her new vampire configuration. This was a gift that she administered liberally onto her maker. Hasan quickly fell blindingly in love with her, so much so that he ignored her sadistic nature in exchange for the pleasure of her company. He remained so enamored for the next fifty-seven years, right up to the moment that she bored of him and took his head.
"Leave us," Sabeen ordered with a glare towards the bartender.
The only mortal that was in the room quickly left by way of the back entrance. As soon as he had, all eyes turned back to Ambrose. He, in turn, rose to full stance and stepped around his table to stand before the group of six. They all studied him with slightly bored expressions. Ambrose scanned the occupants of the table for a handful of seconds and then spoke with a confidence that was rarely heard within his voice.
The Malevolent Vampire Page 11
