Requiem of Humanity

by Catherine Stovall

  She followed him into the den. Instead of sitting beside him on the couch, she seated herself comfortably in an overstuffed velvet chair. She chose the position for two reasons. First, it kept distance between them so that she did not fall victim to the overwhelming need of him. Secondly, it was a clear shot to the door. Soborgne didn’t know why, but the feeling she may need an escape route was clawing its way through her mind.

  “So, my dear, what is it that you would like to know?” Augustine was trying to be nonchalant, but Soborgne could tell there were things he would not willingly share with her. She hoped her first questions were safe enough to lower his guard.

  “Do you know who survived the attack on Vajdahunyad?” She thought of Jenda, and it gave her resolve while at the same time breaking her heart.

  “Jenda, Matteo, and Celeste survived, if that is what you mean. I checked today while you were resting. I did not mean your friend harm. In fact, I would quite like it if she were to join us as well.” The smile never left his face.

  Soborgne could see that he was not lying. He had excellent control of his own thoughts, but for now he was letting her read them. It seemed she wasn’t the only one trying to relax the other.

  She asked her second question in the same manner as the first. “Who saved me last night when I fell from the building?”

  He looked grim as he struggled to tell her. “Andras was the one who attacked you. He came out of nowhere and grabbed you just in time. Fortunately, just as he would have carried you away the sun began to rise. He dropped you in his attempt to escape its rays and I was able to save you afterwards before you were badly burned.”

  Soborgne felt the fear rise up in her. Andras had captured her, even if it were for a moment. It still caused her to panic. Swallowing hard, she held back the terror and continued on with her questions.

  “Why did they attack? Why not just come to me and let us leave without the bloodshed?”

  She didn’t understand why the two factions of vampires would chose to break a truce that had lasted for a millennium because of her. They may not like each other, but they had shared Budapest for hundreds of years without incident until now. She needed to know what had changed. Surely she wasn’t the sole purpose behind the battle.

  “That was out of my hands. Others made those decisions. My only concern was that they not harm you. Therefore, I was allowed to come to you before they swarmed the castle.” He was still telling the truth.

  Soborgne saw the image of a man. His skin was hard white marble and his eyes were blood red. He stood surrounded by a group of faceless people, the dragon insignia burning brightly against the flat black of their robes.

  “You did not answer the whole question. Why attack them in the first place? Why not take me without anyone knowing? You know I would have gone with you. Why shed all that unnecessary blood?” She was relentless. She would not let him derail her from her interrogation.

  “Soborgne, the Dracul want the apocalypse. They want to open up the gates of hell and slay every demon that comes forth. This is the only way for them to complete their true mission. For years, they have hidden behind the mask of politics and vampire justice. In truth, they have been awaiting their chance to destroy the throne of heaven and rule as gods on Earth.

  “Celeste is their only real opposition, and she holds favor with many of our kind. If they could take their figurehead away, the general vampire populace would again look towards the Dracul for guidance. Meaning there would be less opposition and more chance of success.” He was trying valiantly to explain to her, but it only increased her irritation.

  “Are you nothing more than a whipping boy for the Dracul then? You would let them slay a woman as purely good as Celeste in the name of greed and narcissism?” She let her words slap him in the face so that she did not have to. He had known they would murder the people of Vajdahunyad, and he had never warned her. He had never even tried to save those lives. Her anger was growing in equal bounds to her disgust.

  “I am no coward, Soborgne. I owe the Dracul many things, and their beliefs are in accordance with my own. You have felt the pull of the bloodlust and the truth that reveals itself in that moment. Humans are nothing more than self-destructive animals that are intent on killing themselves faster than we ever could. They have laid waste to much of their own natural resources, and to millions of their own species in the name of gods, love, and war.”

  The next question came without thought, “Who are you, really? I know your name and your purpose. A piece of me knows your soul as if it were my own, but who are you?” She saw him blanch, and she knew this is what he had hoped she would not ask. His mind closed in like a bursting bubble, and all images were lost.

  “Where on earth would I even begin, my love? Would you believe me if I told you my life began long before any other vampire you have met thus far? Would you be able to fathom the centuries that I have roamed this earth?” He seemed sad, as if remembering all his years drained him of his vitality.

  “I will believe you as long as you don’t lie. I will know if you do. I can’t tell you how, but I will know. So start where you would like to start. Just keep in mind that when the sun goes up, I go out like a light.” She was trying to lighten her mood, but still make him understand that he was walking a thin line.

  If he lied, she’d be gone. She was sure she would not be welcome at Vajdahunyad, and she couldn’t go home, but it didn’t matter. She was a vampire, a demon, and one hell of a smart girl. She would make it no matter where she went.

  The air of defeat around him was a joyless victory for her. “I will not lie to you, Soborgne. I will tell you things that I wish you did not want to hear, but they will be the truth.”

  He stood then and began to pace the room. His footsteps were silent on the thick red carpeting and his eyes were dark with discontent. She didn’t speak, and her silence spoke volumes. He could not turn back. He would tell her what she needed to know.

  “I will not bore you with tales of my birth or childhood. You only need to know that I was born a vampire. I was not made this way. I have told many lies about my origin to all those who know me, and I entrust you now with my secret. Cain and Lilith had many children. Your mother was Lamashtu, and she was the first. In the years between then and the time that Andras took your mother, our clan began to grow.

  “At first, it only seemed that Cain and Lilith could reproduce and create from themselves others of our kind. Then there came the first of the covens. The witch women were fierce, beautiful, and full of magic. Their blood was poison to us, but their temptation was irresistible. The men of our clan fell in love with the women of the coven, and soon they bound themselves to each other. From these unions occasionally came a child. It did not happen often, and many times the trauma killed both the woman and child. I was the first of these children.

  Indecision surrounding the vampire-witch unions divided the clan. Some feared the Halflings, children born of such pairings. Others embraced the idea as a gift from the witches’ goddess, Neferatu. That was the first time the clan ever disagreed, and it was your mother, at the tender age of thirteen, who reunited them. I was only a boy at the time. Barely big enough to be allowed at the clan meeting, but I remember her so well. She spoke out to the clan as if she, and not her mother, were the leader. Of course, being the vampire princess, everyone listened to her.

  “She told the clan that the Halflings were but a new way to spread the vampire seed throughout the world. She spoke of domination, and of our one true goal to dethrone an unjust and unloving God. The clan united around her, and the children born of the clan and the coven became as one with all others.

  “I never forgot the way your mother’s eyes burned with passion as she spoke of the injustice of our plight. She was, even at that tender age, a martyr for her people. I wonder now what broke her and made her run from the cause she once so vehemently championed.”

  Augustine did not notice the look of sadness on her face. He was too lost i
n his own memories of a world lost. He paused, his back to her, and his head hung low. Soborgne listened intently, and each time he referred to Lamashtu as her mother she cringed but said nothing.

  The vampire princess was not her mother. Her mother was a human woman who believed her daughter to be dead. The old familiar pain returned. She swallowed hard around the lump that formed in her throat. Too much was happening. She would deal with that when her life was not in eminent danger.

  He began to move gracefully through the room. Even in his mania, he glided like a wild beast on the hunt. Always, always staying out of the direct light, he seemed to prefer the shadows, as if they were his only solace. His voice was raw with pain and hardness. Somehow, in this weakened state, he became irresistible. Soborgne kept herself from going to his side.

  “The day the demons took Lamashtu was the day that the clan began to break apart. The only thing that held us together was Cain and Lilith. None of us would have gone against them. People began to whisper behind closed doors. Plans to separate from the clan circulated, but no one would have if Cain and Lilith hadn’t sacrificed themselves in an attempt to save Lamashtu. In their absence, the clan fell.

  “Samael, their oldest son, tried to hold the clan together, but he was not strong like Lilith and Lamashtu were. He was too much his father’s son. Cain was always a man of passion and not of words. He let his heart and his anger lead him. Thus, Samael was much the same.

  “Months passed, and Lilith, Cain, and Lamashtu did not return. The members of the clan split. Half wanted to rebuild their lives and live as we had always lived. They were the ones who always talked about the revenge we would soon gain. Others wanted to take action. We wanted to go out into the world of man and begin the uprising that would bring us to glory.

  “The arguments went on night after night. Finally, the oldest woman of the coven came forward. She had been old when she came to the coven many years before, and now she seemed as ancient as the earth itself. The crone stood before a great fire and called out to all of us to listen. She foretold the future. Her soul traveled to another realm, and the Goddess Neferatu told her the prophecy. If Lilith’s children wanted their revenge upon the demons and on God, they would have to find the Daughter of Light and the Daughter of Darkness that the prophecy foretold.

  “That was the night that many of us left. The Dracul formed on that fateful night. We would make sure that we would be the ones to win. The demons would never rise to power. If other vampires wanted to allow their chances to fall away, so be it. We vowed to protect our species, uphold the old laws of the clan, and let others live in peace unless they were jeopardizing our survival as a species. Our number one priority became the destruction of God, his followers, and all demons that walked the earth.

  “I was too young to be a leader then. I was just another general in the army of the Order of Dracul. I fought hard and I soon gained respect amongst the ranks. After many promotions, I stood on the right side of Mellich. He is the leader of the Dracul and the most powerful born vampire known to be living.

  “Centuries passed and I found myself bored with the day-to-day things that came to be my responsibility. We could feel the events of the prophecy getting closer, and I knew we needed an army. Since the time of Cain and Lilith’s disappearance, we had been unable to reproduce with the witches. Our magic seemed to die with them. There would have to be an army, but with only the blood created vampires to recruit our selection was small.

  “I was thinking about this need and the special gifts that sometimes surfaced when a human was brought over to the vampires. The Dracul Order treasures my gifts.

  “Though not useful in battle, it is the most precious gift they have within their grasp. Once I have tasted someone’s blood, I can reach into his or her mind and see everything they know. I can track them anywhere. The same goes for the ones I have created and their offspring. The blood is my window. This is how I found you. Your blood was everywhere in the cell beneath my Belle’s little ranch. One taste and I had your mind.

  “I went to Mellich and told him my thoughts. He was pleased with my dedication to the cause, and he sent me out amongst the world to find new ways to change humans. Ways that would make them stronger fledglings. Ways that would make them easier to control. Ways to increase the survival rate. Most importantly, he wanted ways to pick a human in order to better our chances of finding those with special powers.

  “During this time, I met Belle. I know your dear friend Jenda shared that story with you. All that Belle told her and all that she told you was true. I never meant to fall in love with Belle. I was lonely, and meant only to seek out a confidant and assistant, but the woman was irresistible. I could see how so many men became her victims. She buried bodies all over her little farm before I ever came. She was the human equivalent of a demon in an angel’s disguise.

  “After the holy woman cursed me and I went blind, I thought I had no reason to go on. A vampire blinded is as useless as a mewling babe. I could go into the sun because I was no longer susceptible to its rays, but I could not do much else. My only choice was to go to Mellich and beg him to end my life. I had served him well since the beginning, and I knew he understood how I could not go on.

  “Mellich was not convinced that I could not be cured. He kept reminding me that God held no power that a vampire could not possess. It took years for us to find a way to heal my eyes. In the beginning, I wore the eyes of rogue vampires. They would die out eventually. Never able to fuse themselves completely with my own body, I would tear them out and replace them when a guilty donor was supplied. Sometimes I wondered if some of the donors were not innocent, but that was a long time ago.

  “At last we found the cure. An exiled member of the coven came to us. She had murdered her own sister in a battle of broken hearts. She was a powerful witch who held her power above all else. When she killed her sister, she was forced to run before the most heinous of punishments could be forced upon her. If the coven caught her, they would strip her magic and her sight from her in the same way that I lost mine.

  “The power of the coven surfaces through the eye. Excommunication for crimes against the coven results in the coven taking away a witch’s eyes. The magic is powerful. As a leader in her coven, this witch knew both the spells to give and take away the sight. Through this magic, she undid the spell and I was able to see. The rest, my dear, is history.”

  19

  As Matteo and Jenda entered Celeste’s rooms, a group of unfamiliar faces greeted them. A rounded table was set up in the main chamber just beyond the small pool. Celeste sat facing them, and to her left and her right sat the strangers. They all stood upon Jenda and Matteo’s entrance. Their faces were sallow and serious. As Celeste introduced each of them, they nodded and bowed slightly.

  “Here is our Jenda now, and some of you may already know my old friend Matteo.” Celeste motioned them forward towards the two empty chairs.

  As they came to their seats, Celeste began the proper introductions. Jenda ground her teeth together. Politeness had its place, but she was in no mood to waste time on a meet and greet with the local supernatural gentry. Ignoring her obvious look of irritation, Celeste kept smiling as she introduced the others to Jenda.

  Beginning with the woman closest to her right, Celeste gestured, “Jenda, may I present to you, Chenda. She is the keeper of the Wat Baydamram temple in Cambodia.”

  The tiny Asian woman stood and inclined her head slightly. She was extremely beautiful, in a pixie sort of way. She kept her long black hair tied neatly at the back of her head in a swirl of thick braid. Her almond shaped eyes were heavily lined, but not in the scary raccoon way so many younger girls chose. She was dressed in the traditional Cambodian dress called the Sampot Chang Kben. The bright silk fabric made her seem even paler than the others.

  Next, Celeste introduced a tall bearded man as Nicholi, the head of the vampire community residing in the Yussopov Palace in St. Petersburg. Jenda could easily to see that he was
Russian. Despite the lack of discomfort that vampires felt in the cold, Nicholi was dressed in thick fur that must have been from a bear.

  He was a giant of a vampire. He stood almost a half foot taller than Matteo, and was at least twice as wide. Chenda looked even smaller standing next to such a behemoth. His hair, mustache, and beard were all long and shaggy. Even his eyebrows were thick, and sprouted in various directions. They resembled the giant black caterpillars that could be seen in the beginning of summer. He must have been in his mid-forties when he made the change, because patches of silver showed in his facial hair.

  Nicholi bowed slightly towards Jenda, and his voice was as rough as sandpaper when he spoke. “Greetings, Jenda. Matteo, it has been too long, my friend. I see that you have come just in time, as always.”

  Matteo shrugged off his stiff posture and greeted him just as pleasantly. Jenda was curious about what Nicholi meant, but this was neither the time nor the place to ask.

  Jenda smiled and welcomed him as best she could before Celeste continued. “This young man is Drew. Drew is from America as well. He is master of Chesterfield Manor, our newest encampment.”

  The young man she spoke of did not look a day older than Jenda. He was dressed like one of the fanatically punk/Goth kids that went to the public schools. Black jacket lined with spikes and chains, a Lamb of God t-shirt, and enormous baggy pants trimmed in zippers gave him the appearance of being extremely weird or extremely tough. He looked as if he had fallen into a vat of black, chrome, and glitter. Yet, he somehow still managed to look good.

  His black hair was shaved down both sides, and would have made a wicked Mohawk if it were spiked. Instead, it hung limply to one side, the tips dyed pure white. Jenda was instantly amazed by his multiple facial piercings.