by Lazlo Ferran
Vampire
Find my Grave
Copyright © 2015 by Lazlo Ferran
All Rights Reserved
PRINTING HISTORY
First Edition
The Ordo Lupus Series:
ORDO LUPUS AND THE TEMPLE GATE
THE DEVIL’S OWN DICE
THE NEXT ORDO LUPUS BOOK WILL BE PUBLISHED 8 APRIL 2016
Credits
Pedro Diaz, Yessir, Kara, Linda Jørgensen.
Cover by omrikoresh.com
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The Prize
The prize of £500, mentioned in the story, is genuine. If you can solve the mystery, email me (my email is at the end of this book) with the answers. The first person with the correct answers wins the prize! Please note; the cover illustration is in no way representative of the actual grave in question and if you find a gravestone, please do not touch or violate it. It marks the burial site of a real person and the treasure is nowhere near the grave.
Glossary
Abed – in bed
Afrique – Africa
Bade – told
Bedded – taken to bed/slept with/seduced
Beelzebub – A Hebrew name for Satan meaning “Lord/Prince of the Flies”
Borne – carried
Great Witch – Lilith
Great Mistress – Lilith
Harlot – Prostitute
Hades – The Greek Underworld or Hell
Hurdy-gurdy - violin-shaped instrument played by turning a wheel
Morpheus – Greek god of sleep
Ne’er – never
Privy member – penis
Supped – eaten supper
Tis – It is
Introduction
Another leaden sky hung heavily over Bolsover Castle, perched above the little village in Scarsdale.
I climbed, on horseback, to the castle with John Wilmot, the notorious libertine, vampire and 2nd Earl of Rochester for a night of revelry. John had visited Bolsover once before and had been told the most extraordinary tale of magick and secret treasure. I was to accompany him on a quest to recover the treasure using simple cunning and a large dose of bravery.
Henry, the 2nd Earl of Newcastle and son of William, the Cavalier who had tried to woo the King in 1634 was, at best, what I call a domestic vampire – drinking as little fresh blood as necessary and only in secret – but his father had been a flamboyant vampire of the First Order and had installed a secret underground labyrinth.
I am Zosimyache, the vampire from the Ordo Lupus and the Blood Moon Prophecy Volume III, soon to be published.
Ironic, isn’t it, that John discovered the origin of Ordo Lupus, a secret society of Angels, in Hell? But this story is not about me, it’s about a vampire I met while passing through London in 1673; posing as John Wilmot. The real John Wilmot had been bled dry at twelve years old by the vampire, whose only story about his life revealed him to have come from ancient Persia.
As it turned out, a small part of the treasure was recovered, but by which of us, you will have to read this story to find out. Suffice it to say that John saw something so terrifying that in 1680 he passed into the character of another and concealed his existence until his death in the 18th Century. During that time he remained sober as a judge and never indulged in anything that could be called debauchery. What is more, he chose a final death rather than take another life, in the hope that his soul would attain Heaven.
John made me swear never to reveal the secrets of Bolsover Castle to a soul or reveal his part but I can tell you know that his gravestone is in England. What is more, I have some of my share of John’s booty still and I am offering 500 English Pounds, yes £500, to anybody that can find John’s grave.
If you are the one who can find his grave and tell me the place of burial, the exact year and month of his death and the position of the grave, write to me and I will give you the reward.
You will only solve three clues; the first name of his last victim and a poem, both in this book and one other clue within one of the first three Ordo Lupus books. Good luck!
What follows is John’s story.
***
Chapter One
For a while, I was John Wilmot, 2nd Earl of Rochester.
No doubt you have heard my reputation. First let me reassure you that not all we vampires do is bad. I myself merely enjoy life and its pleasures.
On a previous visit to Bolsover Castle, the Earl had asked of me:
“Did you know there is a secret labyrinth my father built to solve a riddle.”
“No! Tell me more Henry.”
“It is hidden in the basement of the Terrace Range. My father, you see, was an occultist, a disciple of Eastern wisdom, and had obtained secrets that he believed would lead him to the riddle’s solution and some great treasure of the Underworld. He spent his last years attempting to obtain this great treasure but never succeeded.”
We were greeted at the foot of the great Terrace stair, which had much declined since the great feast of 1634. But still I felt almost cleansed of my London sins as I reached its summit, turned and looked out over Carr Vale. The clouds broke apart for a moment and revealed the weak October sun, cheering my spirits.
With that, I turned and followed the Earl into the Range. He led us along passages to a vast Dining Room, where he had gathered his many guests for the evening.
A few miles behind us, in a covered carriage, followed my new mistress and protégé, the actress Elizabeth Barry, several of her more alluring friends and the fetching mistress of my companion, the vampire Zosimyache, who I had met a few years before.
“We shall wait here for our companions before entering,” I suggested to the Earl and Zosimyache.
“As you wish. When you are announced, I will come to you.”
Our companions arrived shortly after and Henry led us into the melee of guests, who were in the process of being seated.
Elizabeth wore a powder-blue open satin bodice, revealing her fulsome bosom, and a matching tabbed skirt with three-quarter length open sleeves over full silk chemise, all gifts from my generous purse. Her wig was the fullest but with few curls, to match her own silky mane. Her companions wore less ostentatious dresses of crimson, emerald green and darkest blues, but each revealing to their owner’s taste, the virtues of their voluptuousness.
My vampire friend eschewed the traditional powdered wig in favour of his own luxuriant black hair, while I wore the most ostentatious hazel wig in my collection, as suited my rather flushed complexion.
It’s fair to say that Elizabeth and I turned a few heads as we took our seats, Zosimyache to my right and our host to my left.
“Are all these guests to be here for the trial?” I asked the fair and slender Henry.
“No indeed! Only twenty or so of my closest friends and allies will accompany us to the Keep or Little Castle, as it is known. This feast is but a mere charade. I do not wish it to be known that, on this one occasion, I am continuing my father’s nefarious activities!”
While we were served a dish of poached salmon cutlets, decorated with florets of the exotic caulis flower, and sipped a passable pale red wine, I considered what this disapproval of Henry’s father meant. Was he prepared to induct me into his secrets simply for avarice or did he have some other purpose? In any case, I would have to watch my step for if he disapproved of his father’s modest misbehaviour, what did he truly think of me, the most notorious libertine in all England?
“Zos?” I began, for so I called Zosimyache, “what do you say of my lover’s charms? Does she not please the eye of a vampire as much as the palate?”
“Aye. I wouldn’t mind a few pints from her before healing the wounds with a few kisses. The only problem would be; from where to take the red juice.”
“I would suggest the breast. She is amply proportioned there and her flesh is so soft, so tender. I am sure she wouldn’t begrudge you a taste. I will ask her later.”
These words I whispered into my friend’s ear, for fear of Henry overhearing.
***
The meal over, Henry left his guests in the hands of his affable wife and her entourage, while roughly two-dozen of us departed in pairs for the Castle Keep.
I led Elizabeth by the hand into the Star Chamber, a glorious room, vaulted in a blue, which almost matched her dress, and with gold stars placed between the cream plasterwork.
Strewn around the room were satin cushions from the East upon Persian carpets.
“Here we can be more intimate,” Henry declared, lying down with a delightful local blonde, of which I later learned, he was quite fond.
So he isn’t such a Saint after all!
“I have acquired some of the most bewitching harlots in the North of England for your delight John,” he told me, before clicking his hands.
The doors opened and Henry’s steward led in a collection of beauties to delight our eyes. They ranged from the most voluptuous hippo to the most sinuous snake. Their eyes ranged from the Demon-dark satin, which draws you into the depths of their promising bosom, to the angel eyes of children, which challenge you to be pure and kind. I am neither of those but I do enjoy transgressing boundaries, even unspoken ones, so all these beauties entranced me.
“Thank you Henry!” I replied.
Zosimyache simply nodded his approval. Elizabeth looked none too happy but sat against me, with her delicate hand firmly upon my breast.
“Drink, smoke; take whatever you need to intoxicate yourselves,” Henry said, without spirit. “You will need to reach a state of intoxication, mental, spiritual and physical before you are able to enter the labyrinth. But you must retain control of your will and purpose. Take whatever you need.”
With an uncharacteristic sweep of his pale hands, he gestured to the common courtesans and they lay among us. Large silver trays, bearing snuff, assortments of liquor, tobacco and laudanum were borne among us and I picked off a large glass of sherry. Despite his forced largesse, I had begun to dislike Henry but I tried not to show it. Henry continued:
“I will be frank with you John; the reason you are here is because I am desperate. I simply cannot afford to maintain this estate any longer. I want to sell it, but it needs work. My funds have been decreasing, year on year, and so I must resort to desperate means to acquire wealth. When I was a child, I did not believe my father’s tales of the labyrinth, and what could be taken from it, but the sight of too many corpses being thrown upon waggons from the servants’ entrance to the scullery made me think otherwise. I think it must be attempted and I am prepared to let you take all you can acquire, save a small imbursement of, say, ten percent?”
I looked at Zosimyache and saw satisfaction in his eyes. We both nodded.
“Well then, that is settled,” Henry replied, fondling his blonde’s buttocks under her skirt.
He returned his attention to me and returned my gaze with a weak smile. The pale light in his eyes flickered out for a moment and made me blink.
“Lilith is the centrepiece of this story. As you know, some say she is the mother of all vampires and werewolves and the great succubus; a female demon who relieves men of sexual need but at the cost of their life. She was also the custodian of a great treasure. Let me explain. According to my father, he acquired a Hebrew poem or enchantment from a scholar, who had discovered it in a bazaar in Constantinople. At first, he merely considered it a valuable addition to his collection of occult art but the enchantment mentions Lilith, and the more he read about the demon, the more he became convinced that the poem was the key to secret knowledge.”
Lilith was said to be the first wife of Adam. Her story originates in Babylon and comes down to us as Lamia in the Bible. In the beginning, men warred on Earth. Some were victorious and began to acquire wealth. Satan could see that silver and gold held immense power over men and set to acquiring as much of it as he could. He stored it in the Underworld and put Lilith to guard it after she coupled with Samael and could no longer attain the Garden of Eden. She was never to tell anyone about the treasure.”
But legend has it that another demon tricked her into revealing all her secrets by offering her the false hope of re-entry into the Garden. To his surprise, he found out about the treasure and wanted it for his own purposes. She so desired to lay with Adam that the demon was able to tempt her again into telling her how the treasure could be wrested from her. This enchantment tells how this may be done.”
Henry recited the enchantment:
Twelve times twelve would be the tortures of he,
Who would, the witch of Beelzebub deceive,
And pass between her wicket thighs to find,
Wealth unimagined, never revealed to mankind.
The penitent may be true, stout and strong,
Quick with weapon and ne’er do wrong,
But to pass through the twelve levels of Lilith’s lair,
And come back alive, is not a trial for the fair.
The victor must be quick, and wise and deceitful,
He must not heed fear, when fear eats his soul,
But most of all he must have feasted on all flesh,
For only its resistance will Lilith’s trap fail to enmesh.
Twelve weapons you will need for the twelve beasts within,
And twelve are Lilith’s parts which must be hacked to win.
A dagger for her tongue, a club for her nose,
Ax-kidon for her ears, fork for her eyes.
A spade you must take to her fingers to numb,
Double Ax to her feet, with mace beat venus’ mound,
Sword to her hand, let not the bear grip you,
The eagle’s head, with an axe you must hew.
Last we have Lilith’s three life forces;
Take a spear to her heart, heed not the lion’s roars,
Without Pat-kidon, by the phoenix’s flame you will be eaten,
Last of all, the chimera must be beaten.
Stand upon the twelve-pointed star and face East,
Say, “I will not be worth ought, if I beat not the beast,
That lies within me, and Prince of the Flies,
Let me cast away from Heaven, take Samael’s guise.
If torture my spirit, you’ll not feign to do,
I will make my way downwards to sleep forever with you,
For I am a slave to the fourth phase of cycles, the nightjar on high,
Sings of its end, my own time to die.”
Now, let the penitent begin. Take up the club,
Weave your magic between Lilith and Beelzebub,
But heed this last warning. If not seedless you go,
Lilith will eat them, e’en in pieces, this penalty she’ll throw.
“It was because of the part about fear that I contacted you John,” Henry continued.
The poem had a soporific effect on me; I had closed my eyes and heard him only as if from afar. I tried to open my eyes but couldn’t. I could feel the dead weight of Elizabeth on my legs but other hands had peeled off layers of my clothes and were caressing my bare skin. Henry’s voice continued:
“Your poem ‘A Satyr against Reason and Mankind’ shows your disdain for that fear of mankind which stems from fear itself, one I myself suffer from though I am not a normal man. I am quite sure you are the man for the job if you satisfy the other criteria … .”
I became vaguely aware that I had been asked a question. I struggled to open my mouth and only with much effort, did I utter:
/>
“I don’t like the bit about ‘penitent.’ I feel no penitence about anything.”
“And you have children. Did you heed the warning?”
“I fear nothing for my children from some ancient rhyme!” I felt my voice growing stronger and felt that I would soon have the strength to open my eyes.
“But you feel immensely weary now? Is it not so? The power of this poem has that effect on people at its first hearing. I curse my father for ever getting me into this dire situation. Forgive me, perhaps this adventure is not for you.”
“No wait!” With my exclamation, my eyes suddenly opened and I took in the scene. Henry’s head rested in the palm of his hands. Zos and I were surrounded by naked female flesh and both our members stood to attention. I saw that he was indeed a very lusty swinger. Henry lifted his eyes, which questioned me. “How much of the poem is accurate?”
“Ah! There are parts which are not well-understood. Yes, it is a big risk. My father always said of this venture; to fornicate, but resist lust, is the beast weapon. I often corrected his enunciation of the penultimate word but he never corrected himself. I don’t think he ever heard me; he seemed obsessed with the piece. I wish he had cared so much about me! But anyway, you fit his image. That is another reason why I think you are the right man.”
I was fully awake now and could see that Zos struggled to open his eyes.
“The nightjar,” I said, “is a symbol for Lilith, is it not?”
“Yes, and that verse took longest to decipher. At last, my father realised that the ‘end’ in that verse refers to the Full Moon. The task is to be carried out on the Full Moon. Tonight is the Full Moon.”
“And it will be my time to die! I can see this is a task for somebody who does not fear death! I do not. I only fear a slow death, one without life. I will take up this challenge!” I slapped Zosimyache’s stomach. “With my friend, if he wakes up!”
Zosimyache’s eyes sprung open and he peered at us before smiling wearily.
“It all sounds very interesting,” he ventured.
“The bit about Samael,” I said, proposing it as a subject of conversation. Neither my companion nor Henry responded so I continued, “I guess this means that I have to take on some sort of disguise?”
