by J. X. Evans
“Not, everyone, of course not. Imagine if that was the case. But, most of the times a group comes to be remembered and judged based on their worst members. The ones that make the most noise, and the most damage.”
Rob nodded slightly and Dimitri continued, “We were few once, fewer than we are now if you can believe that. As the years passed our numbers grew though, which proved to be a mistake. Vampires would choose to transform their ‘favorite’ humans. Humans that served them well, humans that were good company, humans that somehow had transcended their status of cattle in the eyes of their lords into something more. Eternity is a long time and as I already stated, boredom is not an attribute solely intrinsic to humans, sadly. And in the span of a couple of thousand years and so many generations, there is bound to be at least one human that would pleasantly surprise you, show some potential, make you wonder if the world would not be better off with him sticking around for a while longer, if it wouldn’t make your life a little less boring for a little while longer. Unfortunately, when they turned, they did not leave their previous lives and experiences behind, nor all of their clunky, disorderly emotions.” Dimitri scoffed and shook his head left and right, “As more and more of them were created they would eventually leave their master’s side, for one reason or another. More vampires started popping up like weeds in an untidy farm…weeds that we did not deal with as soon as possible, like every good farmer should. That is about the time that most of the horrors that your folk have linked with vampires started happening.”
“The noisy minority that you talked about?”
“At first yes, but then it was the noisy majority, to tell the truth. Old feuds settled in the name of petty vengeance with whole families or villages perishing. New vampires plagued with your race’s greed and susceptibility to addiction would not know when or how to stop themselves, killing dozens of people each time they fed, for nothing more than gluttony’s sake. Sadists would scare their victims nearly half to death, torturing them while playing with their food. And worst of all, vampires with hunger for power, a lot of them. They wanted more, more meaningless wealth of gold to cover for their poorness of spirit and the hollowness they remembered accompanying them in their previous lives, and well, their current lives as well. In the past, they lacked strength to seize power and now they had it, and they wanted many servants to answer to their many whims, servants they would abuse and mistreat and toy with. Crowds of scared people to bow to their feet just to feed their megalomania, because that is how they thought the strong were supposed to act. That is how they remembered being treated themselves when they were the weak mistreated bastards. As soon as they could, they started kicking the ant hill because they could, just like they had learned to do, because no one would easily punish them for it. The rest you know.” Dimitri concluded, all that with the same expression, amount of feelings and passion that if someone was to stick a numeral, it would be zero.
“And before that you were little girl scouts, and we adored you, and you let us pinch your rosy cheeks and we bought all your cookies for extra price?”
“Believe what you will. It does not matter either way.”
‘Quite a story’ Rob thought, “So, you decided you want to help. How does this benefit you?”
“I did not say that. But I have my reasons, and my goals. These things should not concern you right now though.”
“I think I can have an opinion of my own on what should or should not concern me.” Rob said, and it appeared as if the vampire felt some kind of remorse.
“I find that with each change that happens regarding the standing of my brethren in the world, I like it less and less.”
“And for that, you wish to see your kind destroyed?”
“I wish to see the unworthy destroyed. You should want the unworthy destroyed as well. The Knights should want the unworthy destroyed and you should want my help. You should be asking for it.”
The Knights were not likely to discriminate between the morality compasses of the vampires. More likely they would hack at any anthropomorphic head with sharp canines. Maybe Dimitri should discover a ranking system of sorts. “Fire away.” Rob said, scratching an itch on his left cheek.
“There are three vampires located in a villa in Malakasa, its owners are supposedly on vacation. They were the ones charged with organizing and carrying out the attack here. I suspect they will hold the position as their base of operations. There will be more than those three vampires though. Some humans probably, thralls of course, some newly turned vampires probably and maybe some you already know. If they have taken a whiff of what is going on and have not skipped town.”
“There are ten vampires living in Athens at the moment, including you. Why only three? If all of you had acted together we would have been in serious trouble. And why some of them instead of all?”
“I told you, the attack was not supposed to take place at this time. We were not informed on the matter. But don’t worry, this was to be the case if everything went according to plan.”
‘Good thing it was not then.’ “What about the children?”
“I really did not know anything about that. It surprised me when you came and asked me in the morning, I thought you were shooting in the dark. But if things are as you describe them to be, then they should be there. Here are some information you mind find useful.” Dimitri took a crumpled up yellow envelope from his bag and tossed it at Rob. Rob snatched it from the air, held it lightly between his large fingers.
“I take it you won’t be joining our meager ranks in this future raid of ours.”
“I will not. I have things I need to do, but even if this was not the case I need to remain inconspicuous.” Dimitri turned to leave, then stopped “Do not tell anyone about our meeting, it will benefit you more if my treachery, he seemed to spit more than speak the word, is not discovered. Not even to your people, this is war. Don’t trust anybody. I should know, I have seen a fair number of them. It was a favorite past time of some old friends and mine to sit back and predict the winners.” And he continued on his way out of the thicket in the little garden of the hospital yard. He went just as he came, eerily, and silent as the night.
Trust no one Dimitri said, Rob did not plan on it, and he was certainly not about to trust a vampire, and Dimitri most of all. Everything seemed to be moving too fast and too irregularly, even for a situation as irregular as this one. The orders from higher up the line were to sit tight on their hands with their butt cheeks clenched. Rob never really dwelled on technicalities such as the chain of command though. Maybe if he had been doing that, then he would be the one sitting in the big comfortable chair in Serbia instead of that annoying hug. In Serbia or somewhere else... But at a time like this he seriously did think of doing just like he was asked, especially since a vampire asked him to do otherwise.
A minute passed, Rob sighed out a heavy breath and let his tense body relax, dropping the yellow envelope on the cold, moist ground. He could not help it, in the presence of Dimitri he always felt…vulnerable, an unfamiliar feeling. He tried to hide his uneasiness under a mask of coolness but he could swear Dimitri seemed like he could hear his muscle fibers getting pulled tense, smell his apprehension. He looked at the phone, flung against a tree and still powered up and working, when is the damn thing going to ring? ‘That’s the stuff.’ He set to pacing up and down the little thicket. The fact that they were attacked before the predetermined time probably meant that there was trouble among their ranks, Dimitri pretty much said so. And the noctis gems…? He should have asked about them as well. ‘Damn it all to hell…’
The phone beeped, a text. Orpheus was finally done with the questioning and coming by to pick him up.
20. A DRINK, A DRINK, A DRINK
Ulrik returned to the mansion, he was walking through the gardens and towards the building. The man, Robert, had a good fight in him. He had expected more though… he did not anticipate that of him. To turn tail and run. It is the smart thing to do when a man fi
nds himself in a losing position. He just had him figured out as a man who would prefer to finish a fight against someone like him, a monster, rather than let him go his merry way in the first sign of trouble.
He opened the big doors and walked inside. The room was dim-light, again. It always was. It was not as if vamires need much light to see, and for some reason they all preferred it that way. Bright lights were kind of…annoying, low lights were calming.
There was a body, a man’s, sprawled on the carpet, right in the middle of the room, between the set of stairs leading to the second floor. He was dead, his blue baseball cap laying a couple of feet next to his cold and pale body.
There was the distinct sound of high heels, lightly stepping on marble steps. A woman with the reddest hair and the greenest set of eyes appeared from within the shadows. She was wearing one of the previous mansion owner’s expensive black dresses, and she definitely wore it best, she would wear almost anything better than almost anyone. It was Helena, the third member of their little righteous team of vampires.
“Ulrik” she purred in her sweet voice. She always seemed to purr rather than speak, more cat than woman that one. “Did everything go according to plan?” She leaned against the railing, her long red hair cascading down in a torrent of tangles.
Ulrik placed his axe on his shoulder, “Not really.”
She closed her eyes, leaned forward and took a deep slow breath through her nose, “Why do I smell so much blood then? Not a Knight’s blood?” she seemed to enjoy herself.
Of course… more vampire than a cat that one, “He had caught one of our lackeys. He was questioning him, and he seemed in the brink of torturing him for information. The man was talking, in the brink of saying too much. So I killed him. I also helped the Knight scratch an itch at his nose before he escaped me, your nose missed that?”
Her full lips took a disappointed expression “Don’t be sad my dear, you get pouty when you are sad, I am sure you did your best. Duncan won’t be too pleased though.” Ulrik could not decide if her disappointment was due to his own failure, or due to the fact that she had missed all the action.
‘Who the fuck cares about Duncan’s pleasure’ Ulrik thought, moving ever so slowly towards the base of the stairs, towards Helena. “Can’t you ever clean up after yourself?” Ulric asked gesturing with a nod at the bloodless corpse in the middle of the room.
“My dear, cleaning up is the reason we have a butler in the first place.” She clasped her hands together, placing them by the side of one cheek. This woman had always been dripping elegance, too much for Ulrik’s liking.
“And where is the old man?”
“Way too much work for him today already. He is digging a pit for that dear boy of mine in the back yard. Although I really don’t know why he even bothers.”
“I had a feeling that yesterday would be Kostas’ last miserable day on earth. Could see it in his eyes, dead and he didn’t know it yet.”
“Trust you me dear. Men would die for a single evening with me. Now that I think about it, men already have actually. Ha, ha, he had more than an evening so he is a lucky one. And his last day was today. You know I never indulge in eating or any other pleasure while I have work to do. I made him sit in a corner while I was doing my job. He did not have nearly enough left in him to satisfy me after such a long and strenuous task though.”
It could not have been a pleasant experience for the boy. The last thing to watch before dying to be people getting killed and turned one after the other. If he had eyes for anyone else other than Helena at this point that is. “You seem to be good enough right about now though. Are you feeling okay?”
“Peachy dear, so considerate of you to ask. Yes, that old boy over there came in a little after I was done with Kostas. Said he brought the blood from that pacifistic traitor. Good thing he appeared right that moment too, or we would have needed to start searching for another butler. Good help is so hard to come by these days.”
“I see… so everything alright with the turning process?”
“Don’t insult me… I always deliver. The first ones should start waking up shortly, the bags of blood are in there. Hopefully they’ll share. I asked that butler to fill up a nice bottle and send it to your courters. As a thank you for thinking of my needs yesterday. So considerate1”
“Duncan asked me to send Kostas down, I had nothing better to do, so I did.”
Helena smiled, “Of course.”
Ulrik passed her by, not sparing her so much as a glance, going towards his room.
“When will you learn to accept your nature? It is just so much better after you do so. Straight out of the source.”
Ulrik continued walking, without responding. He had nothing to say really. They have had these conversations time and again. For some reason it mattered to her. Maybe she was right, maybe he really did have to start acting like a true vampire again, after all he really was one, and he had been for some time. There would be no longer need for providers, shortly. He opened the door and walked inside his room. It was one of the many guest rooms, simple yet lavish and stylish, poorer than the two master bedrooms yet far better than the servants quarters, extravagant in comparison. The lamp on the wooden table was turned on, shedding light at the metal bucket on top of it. There was a moderate amount of condensation going on at the bucket’s outer surface and a small amount of water had gathered around its base, like a tiny moat, drops of water adding their meager volume to the thin circlet of water in a steady pace.
He let the shaft of his axe slide down his palm until the bearded head hit the ground, and he let it lean against the foot of the bed before he returned to the table. Inside the bucket was a bottle, which was formerly containing a portion of expensive wine. The label read Chateau Canon. A fancy bottle at his quarters, and it was filled with fresh human blood…just as promised. He knew before he pulled the loose cork out. The bottle was moderately submerged under an amount of water, formerly ice…there were still thin leaves of ice swimming around. He grabbed the bottle from the neck, took it out of the bucket and pulled the stopper out. He took a sniff, he could not help himself. It smelled delicious. A sweet and salty, metallic smell. He liked it. He had tasted blood before turning into a vampire, mostly his own, but occasionally that of other people as well, unintentionally of course…well most of the time. But getting a measure of the stuff in your mouth during battle and actively drinking it from a cup are two very different things, different experiences. He did not much like the taste back then, he found it mildly disagreeable and he always liked his meat well-cooked rather than bloody, but when there was no fire or no time, he would compromise. He always liked food, the smell and taste of a fine cooked meal after a fight had always been one of the pleasures he enjoyed most, battling it out for the first place along with a couple of other simple yet intricate earthly sensations. But to compare a well cooked dinner after a hard day’s work as a human, to drinking cool delicious blood as a vampire, nah, it would be like comparing coal to diamonds; same thing, carbon and nutrition…same thing, but different. And he had tried both, so he knew. The other thing that he remembered about food was that it used to get less and less tasty the more that he ate during a single meal. He would not want to keep eating after he was full, it was a pleasure as well as a need. It was satisfied and that was that, with blood…it was different. He had known a bunch of drunkards in his life, a couple of them too well. Grab a drink and then another, and another, until there was no more drink in the immediate or even moderate vicinity. Never knowing when to stop, never wanting to stop. It was like that when a vampire drunk blood as well, only instead of getting tipsier and drunker and pissing yourself to sleep, you got stronger and calmer and you felt better with yourself, it felt natural, it felt right.
There was a plain tall, slim glass, placed upside down on a silver platter, decorated with intricately carved patterns, flowers and geometrical signs. A champagne glass,=. The people that lived here before them owned a range of fancy
glassware so they could satisfy the needs of every drinker and their liquid of choice. From plain, old, mild mannered water, to bad boy and girl favorite tequila.
Ulrik held the bottle up, made to drink straight out of it. Everyone but the sorriest of drunkards in the sorriest of times fill their glasses, pretending to uphold the status quo, pretending they have a pinch dignity, a dash of restraint left in them, a sense of what the word temperance even means. He took the champagne glass and filled it to the brim, the cold blood provocatively spilling inside it, thick and red and delicious, and about the only thing that could even hope of drawing some excitement from his cold meaningless existence. People in the culinary world today refer to it as food porn, and a lot of people put a lot of effort in it. And most fail hard to get the result they are after. The fancy champagne glass and the cold dark red blood just made the hardest of the stuff without even trying. If it was people instead of nutritional substances, then it would have been banned and burned as illegal content. He brought the glass to his lips, closed his eyes and drained the content without worrying about the legality of the matter. Unfortunately though, not like one would swallow a bitter medicine, dropping it right inside the throat, and praying that it would not touch the back of their tongue much. But like one would drink a cup of delicious hot chocolate on a cold day, the liquid flowing slow and easy, and glazing the tongue and the palate with its delicious flavor; filling the renal cavity with the strong aroma and making you want to drain it even if you knew that there would be no more chocolate for later…well, Ulrik had a whole bottle of the stuff.
He lowered the glass from his red tinged lips, his eyes still closed. The blood’s flavor sticks in your mouth, makes you want more to wash down the taste, not because you don’t like it, but because you do. As if that ever works. He remember crazy old Cobb, though no one called him that in his face. For one he would have needed a chair to reach it and for another, he would have to be even crazier than him. Most times after Cobb won a duel, a battle, a squabble, a fight, be it in bars for reasons only he knew and understood, or in battlefields to gain honor and glory, he would crack his opponents skull open, find a good curvy piece of bone and fill it with their blood, then drink it and show his red misaligned smile. Fearsome bastard old Cobb. Ulrik knew why Cobb did that. It made his name that much more terrifying, made a man think twice, or even thrice, before challenging him, before slighting him, even if most of the times his poor opponent did not know what he had done to wrong him. Ulrik had felt sick every time he had watched him do that, but old Cobb had even seemed to enjoy his little stunt when he performed it after most fights. Ulrik would not have felt disgusted any more, and if old Cobb had been able to find even a thousandth of the same pleasure that Ulrik was finding in the champagne glass right that moment, then he had been a lucky man.
