She patted his head. “God speed, child.”
Nemec skittered up a small ladder beneath the trapdoor, and was gone.
***
The next day, Lena emerged from her bedroom shortly past one p.m. She was pulling a bottle of blood out of the pantry when there was a knock on the kitchen door. Hair mussed by sleep, clad in a robe and nightgown, she grumbled and put the bottle back in place. Another knock rattled the door. When she cracked it open, Peter stood at the doorstep. Anxiety strained his gangly features, and sweat soaked the neck and armpits of his shirt. His cap drooped from his hands, which were clasped at his chest.
Lena lowered her eyebrows. “What is it?”
“I’m sorry to interrupt you, Frau Memminger,” he said. “But none of the laborers showed up today. The SS is gathering Poles in all the nearby villages.”
Lena beckoned him inside. Peter gingerly stepped into the kitchen and looked around. “Please sit,” she said. “Do you want some water?”
Peter sat at the kitchen table. “Yes, thank you.”
Lena filled a glass at the sink and Peter drank half of it in a single tip. A small burp escaped him. “I’m sorry.”
Lena shrugged and sat across from him.
“This morning,” said Peter, “the wife of a Gestapo officer and their two children were found murdered. They were ripped apart.”
“Really?” Lena smiled. “And what about the Gestapo officer?”
“Apparently, he survived,” Peter said.
Something cold stretched inside Lena’s throat. Then she glanced up at nothing in particular and decided she probably had nothing to worry about.
“I don’t know much,” Peter continued. “Someone from the next farm came by and told me what she’d heard.” He took another gulp of water. “Since sunrise, Ernst and I have been doing all we can to keep this place running. We won’t be done for a while.” He shook his head as if to settle his thoughts back in place. “Anyway, the SS is executing two hundred Poles in the area. Fifty for each of the Germans who were killed last night.”
Lena frowned. “I thought there were only three.”
“The wife was eight months pregnant. They’re counting the unborn child.” Peter looked down at the table for several long, silent seconds, the color draining from his face. He looked back up and said, “This is because of yesterday, isn’t it? The bodies you asked us to burn. Did you attack the Major’s family?” Before Lena could reply, he scooted back in his chair and raised his hands. “I’m sorry. I just need to know if Ernst and I will be safe.”
Lena propped her cheek on one hand. “You will be safe.”
Sheepishly, he said “It might be a good idea to leave; find some place else.”
Lena smiled. “We’re fine here. Major Kübler and the Gestapo clearly have other things to worry about now.”
Peter finished his water and mustered a wavering “Very well.” Lena showed him out and locked the door.
She spent the rest of the afternoon listening to the radio and watching the day’s shadows crawl across the living room. A new victory in Russia had occasioned a pounding litany of military marches. In the distance, just beneath the music, Lena heard a slow, steady cadence of rifle shots. She declined to count them, focusing instead on the brazen oaths of the Panzerlied: “If our fate calls upon us, then our tank will be an honorable grave.” She switched off the radio and went to fetch some blood from the pantry.
Lena was standing barefoot on the tile floor, bottle tilted to her lips, when she was startled by a loud thud at the front door. She turned toward the sound, a small splash of blood spilling down her chin. The hinges whimpered, and heavy feet clunked inside the house. Lena put the bottle on the stove and hid beside the doorway. Deliberate, leaden footsteps plodded down the hall toward the kitchen. Then they stopped, only to resume a few, grating seconds later. A horrible stench penetrated Lena’s nostrils, stinging her eyes and nettling the back of her throat. Garlic.
In a soundless fraction of a second, she reached up and took an iron skillet from a hook on the wall behind her. Hands wrapped tight around the handle, Lena raised the skillet above her shoulder, poised to implode the intruder’s face. Her knees quivered, as the garlic stink grew stronger.
A tiny, sarcastic voice inside her wondered if she could just as easily drive the stranger away with a cascade of puke.
A hairy arm stuck through the doorway, wielding a large, wooden cross. Lena would have laughed if she weren’t wracked with nausea. Her elbows tensed, and she shifted her weight back on one heel.
One.
More.
Bang! The back door flew open. Lena whipped around and saw a man leveling a pistol at her head. A gunshot roared through the kitchen, and a harsh metal clang lanced her ears. The skillet quaked in her hands, forcing her to let it clatter to the floor.
With another roar of the pistol, a molten rod of pain bore into her cheek, just below her left eye. Half blind, she flailed her arms, groping for balance. The first intruder sprang through the doorway and closed on her, looping a string of garlic around her neck. He punched Lena in the stomach. She collapsed, landing ass-first on the floor. On impact, a fetid gruel of blood and ruminated lamb gushed from her mouth onto her chest. Her eyes burned as if they were soaked with a mix of chlorine and piss. Lena cried out stuttering blubber.
A foot struck her ribs. Rough hands grabbed her ankles, pulling her flat on her back. The same heavy foot pinned her stomach. She choked on another well of vomit, until it spilled from the corners of her mouth and into her ears. The foot pressed harder. Eyes wide, Lena looked up at her attacker.
It was the Pole she’d seen two days ago, working without a shirt. Except now, he was not very gnomish. Up close, he stood almost six feet tall, with broad shoulders that he’d ringed with his own necklace of garlic. He had a sharp nose, slim eyebrows and deep, brown eyes that radiated hatred and disgust. Through bared teeth, he spoke to her in a mix of German and Polish. “Nemec, my nephew. The Nazis threw his smoldering head into the market square before they forced half our village onto trucks and drove them to a pit outside town.” Lena glanced over to his accomplice, who drew a wooden stake from a satchel and laid it neatly on the floor next to a hammer and a meat cleaver.
The man pushed his foot deeper into her stomach and pointed at her with a long, calloused finger. “You killed Nemec’s family! You corrupted him! You are responsible for the others who disappeared!” Lena narrowed her eyes, and he spat on her forehead. “The Nazis are barely human, but you are an abomination!”
His accomplice hovered over her, stake in one hand, hammer in the other. He pressed the sharp wood into her left breast and raised his other arm. Drawing a deep breath, Lena screamed. “Ferdi!!!” The man with the hammer flinched, his grip on the stake faltering.
A pall of cheap vodka drenched the air as the cellar door disintegrated in a rain of splinters. Her attackers jerked their heads toward the noise. The man let go of the stake, and Lena saw his upraised arm bend like a reed in a squall. He screamed. From behind him, Ferdinand plunged the hammer into his outstretched jaw. Spatters of blood and teeth arced through the air as Ferdinand raised the hammer again. The next blow landed in the man’s eye. His corpse tumbled backward onto the floor.
With the speed of a humming bird’s wing, Ferdinand yanked the garlic string from Lena’s neck and flung it toward the back door of the house. He wheeled on the other man, who stood slack jawed, his foot still pressed into Lena’s stomach. A second string of garlic flew across the room. Ferdinand plucked the man from the ground and pinned him against the wall. The Pole howled as Ferdinand bit into his throat, shaking his head like a hungry dog.
Lena crawled to the corpse on the floor. She collapsed across its shoulder, extended her fangs, and bit desperately into its neck. Blood dappled her tongue. Pressing its chest, she forced a beat from its dead heart. The blood welled into a thick stream. As Lena drank, her nausea evaporated, tears cleansing the rawness from her eyes. With anoth
er draught her wound began to close, urging the bullet to the surface like an errant wisdom tooth. Above her, the remaining Pole’s screams trailed into silence, and she looked up at Ferdinand. He dropped the fresh corpse to the floor and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.
“With all that noise,” she croaked, “why didn’t you come sooner?”
He looked back and shrugged. “I assumed you’d take care of it on your own.”
***
Ferdinand stared through the windshield of his car as a glittering black cone of pavement scrolled beneath the headlights. He hadn’t spoken since before they’d left the farm when, in a colorless voice, he’d told Lena to pack her things. Occasionally, Lena looked over at him from the passenger seat, where she sat with a towel pressed against her cheek, but he just ignored her. After almost two hours of silence, he finally cleared his throat and said, “I must say that in hindsight our partnership was not a sound decision.”
Softly, Lena said, “I’m sorry.”
He glanced over at her, the headlights of an oncoming truck casting dark half-moons under his eyes. “You lack patience.”
She nodded. A plangent ache beat through her cheek. The bullet had squeezed out a couple of hours ago, leaving a slimy abscess that would last at least another day. “It just seemed to me,” she said, “that if…”
Ferdinand raised his hand and shook his head. “No.” After a moment of silence, he said “I’ll let you stay in my apartment in Berlin until you can make your own arrangements.”
“Are you going back to the farm?” Lena asked.
A long, low sigh seeped out of him, like air leaving a tire. “Eventually. I’ll have to figure out when it’s safe, but that will take a while.” He returned his gaze to the road. Lena felt a hot twinge in her stomach. She opened her mouth, and then closed it again, choosing instead to turn the dials on the radio until she heard music. Then she leaned back and watched the night’s shadows skate across the roof of the car.
The Darkon Prophecy
by
Linna Drehmel
Wilhelm felt the blood, salty and sweet gliding sensually down his throat. He hated it even though he craved it, needed it. This was not the life that he would have chosen. It was forced on him, on his wedding night. His bride Louisa, whom he had known for years before they were married, was secretly a Darkon one. But how was he to know, he was never allowed to touch her while they were courting. After all no one truly knows who is Darkon and who is not.
The one night in a young man’s life that should have been sweet turned ugly as his new bride confessed what she was as she made him like her. He tried to fight her off, but she had the amplified strength of a Darkon and soon over powered him. He struggled, pinned under her as sharp crystalline fangs descended from her upper jaw.
“I love you Wilhelm, I have waited so long for this.” Louisa whispered softly. He screamed in pain as she sank her fangs into his neck and began to drain his life away. The darkness of death quickly began to claim him. Wilhelm welcomed it. This was a world that he no longer understood or wanted to be a part of.
Just before the blackness completely consumed his thoughts he felt something hot and salty begin to burn his lips as it dripped into his partly open mouth. It was her blood. Louisa was making him a Darkon one like her. His mind, his human soul screamed no, but his body did not want to die.
Once enough of Louisa’s blood had given him back a measure of strength, he reached out and grabbed her bleeding wrist and began to suck the blood out of her hungrily.
She groaned with pleasure at the feeling of his lips on her wrist, but pulled her arm back from him, “Not too much my love, it only takes a little to crystallize your heart.” Louisa said with passion in her voice as she leaned down to kiss him, but he pushed her off from him as an excruciating pain began to lace though his chest.
“What have you done to me?” Wilhelm gasped in agony.
I have made you like me, so we can be together always.” She told him with an innocent look in her large brown eyes. “You were a latent Darkon, Wilhelm. We have been waiting for you to change on your own, but when you did not the council told me to change you.”
“What are you talking about Louisa? I am a human. I have human parents!” His face contorted with agony as well as indignation.
“Wilhelm, be calm. You have to listen to me.” She begged him.
“But…PAIN!” He cried through clinched teeth gripping his chest.
“I am sorry Wilhelm that cannot be helped. It is a part of the Darkoning process. Your heart is turning from weak flesh to eternal crystal.” Louisa said her voice as smooth as silk as she put her arms around his shoulders. “We all have to go through it, be still and it will not hurt so much.”
“Don’t touch me!” He screamed shoving her away from him with more strength than he knew he had causing her to fly across the room and then hitting a wall.
“Wilhelm, please listen! I have so much to tell you.” Louisa said as she got quickly to her feet.
The pain of changing to Darkon dissipated quickly and Wilhelm jumped with surprising agility to his own feet, but the pain of betrayal burned within him as he whipped around and fled the room by jumping through the open window into the warm summer night.
“Wilhelm! Come back.” Louisa cried arriving at the window a moment too late.
He landed easily on his feet, where he should have been grievously injured or even killed jumping from a window of that height.
Wilhelm began to run, to where he was going he did not know. He only hoped to out run the pain that he felt as his soul was ripped from him by the sound of Louisa screaming his name from the window. He ran fast and hard from the sound of his new wife’s voice. A part of him wanted to turn and run back to her but he shut that feeling out. She betrayed him, lied to him. Why didn’t she tell him what she was? He would have loved her anyway.
There was another feeling that drove him forward into the forest. It was an uncontrollable hunger. “I will not kill!” He screamed to the cloud covered sky. But the hunger in his new crystalline heart told him differently as he ran onward.
He stopped with the grace of a predator when he heard the rustle of an animal walking through the woods. It was not just the sound but also the hot and salty smell of the creature’s blood. His soul cried no, but his body flew at the animal almost of its own accord. He grasped the large feline in his strong arms almost crushing it. Wilhelm cried out in pain when he felt his own crystalline fangs descend out of his upper jaw, and then his soul cried out in pain when he sank his fangs in and took the creature’s lifeblood from it.
He dropped the forest cat’s lifeless body to the ground hating himself, but feeling his body and senses grow stronger.
Wilhelm forgot his pain and self-loathing and was lost in the enchantment of experiencing the summer night in a new way. He looked into the darkness with sharpened eyes and could see the smallest insect crawling over a tree limb that had fallen to the ground. He could see the small flicker of light that was its life essence. Wilhelm looked to the dark and cloudy night sky and enjoyed the sight of a phoenix. The amazing bird like creature left a trail of light behind as it soared powerfully through the air.
He could also hear the smallest whisper of sound. The young Darkon turned his head to the sound of a small rodent chewing on its stolen meal. He relished the sound that came from the direction of the sea that was many days journey off. There was the soft rushing sound as waves broke over the sandy beach that soothed his tormented soul. Wilhelm could also hear the delightful sound of the large sea leviathans calling out to each other from far under the water.
There was a sudden and much closer sound that caught his ear; it was the sound of fear. A child nearby was crying out for help. Without even knowing why he raced toward the sound. It was just a feeling or an instinct in his newly crystallized heart that compelled him. He needed to protect that child.
Wilhelm blazed past trees and rocks so fast that they were all just a blur
to him. He was focused solely on moving as fast as he could toward the growing sound of fear. He was also able to pick up a new sound that was growing. It was the sickening sound of skin shifting over muscle and bone. This could only mean one thing. Whoever this crying child might be was being attacked by a boser’traum.
***
Gottlieb watched with eyes that pierced the darkness as his new von’ehe son sped past him with the strength of a new Darkon into the woods. He felt the burning pain of betrayal that emanated from Wilhelm. Gottlieb felt badly for him and how confusing all this must be.
Wilhelm only knew what most humans on their world did: there was an ancient clan of Darkons that they had always shared the world with, but no one truly knew who belonged to the ancient clan. One could not tell a Darkon from a human. Some humans feared them. Some wanted to be them. Gottlieb knew from the feelings that poured from his von’ehe son that Wilhelm was one that feared the Darkons.
The Darkons lived under a strict code of secrecy. They were not to tell anyone who they were for the human’s own protection. But on rare occasion a Darkon would marry a human out of love and so they could gain the immunities that humans have from the giant white sun. However, such a marriage was only done with express permission from the Darkon Council.
The Darkon Council had many such strict rules about feasting on human blood and changing full blood humans to Darkon. Such a thing was only done in times of war with the boser’traum. The human must volunteer of their free will and must never be completely drained. The human also had the choice to be made a Darkon when it was over, because the humans on their planet were theirs to protect not to exploit.
But Wilhelm was not like most humans. He in fact was not human at all. He never was. Although he did not know it, Wilhelm had latent Darkon blood, but never transmuted as most latent Darkons do when they become adolescents. The council of Darkons instructed Louisa to change Wilhelm on their wedding night.
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