by Jan McDonald
Bram Stoker’s book was nowhere to be seen; they knew it by heart. Dan made a mental note to acquire a copy. If he was going to be able to converse with his fellow travellers it would seem that this was essential, so while they were waiting to claim their luggage, he approached Christian when the others were in discussion about recent film adaptations of the immortal story.
“Christian, this is perhaps a little embarrassing. You see, I’ve never actually read the damn book and, if I am going to get out alive, I guess I should.”
Christian grinned. “There’s one on every trip; you’re in good company. I learned early on in the job to keep a couple of copies in my case, you can have it as soon as it comes down the conveyor belt. Excuse me a minute – announcement time.” He moved towards the group and spoke in his best tour guide voice.
“OK everyone, can I have your attention for a minute or two? Our luggage will be here imminently, and our small but comfortable coach is waiting for us outside. We begin our tour in Tirgoviste, the former capital of Wallachia. It is here that you’ll be able to see and climb the famous Sunset Tower, otherwise known as the Chindia Tower, at the foot of which Vlad Tepes III, or Vlad the Impaler, impaled his enemies. From there we go to Poenari – where, perched on top of a mountain, is the real Castle Dracula – for those of you who are fit there are fourteen hundred and eighty steps to be climbed! The citadel was probably built in the 14th century by the first Wallachian princes. Later on, it was modified and extended by Vlad the Impaler, whom you probably know better and more fondly as Dracula. In addition to all the stories and legends, the site offers great panoramic views of the mountains on both sides. Once you are at the top of the mountain, Transylvania welcomes you and we will reach the city of Sibiu in time for dinner. Ah, our luggage, I think.”
Half an hour later, they were handing their cases to an amiable Romanian driver who tossed them carelessly into the luggage compartment of the coach. Christian handed a dog-eared, well-read, copy of Dracula to Dan with a smile. There was one traveller who would be occupied during the journey; he hoped the rest would be as easy.
Dan settled quickly into becoming absorbed by Bram Stoker’s immortal words in his immortal book ….
CHAPTER 1
‘…. 3 May. Bistritz. Left Munich at 8:35 P.M, on 1st May, arriving at Vienna early next morning; should have arrived at 6:46, but train was an hour late. Buda-Pesth seems a wonderful place, from the glimpse which I got of it from the train and the little I could walk through the streets. I feared to go very far from the station, as we had arrived late and would start as near the correct time as possible.
The impression I had was that we were leaving the West and entering the East; the most western of splendid bridges over the Danube, which is here of noble width and depth, took us among the traditions of Turkish rule…’
CHAPTER FOUR: THE SANCTUARY
The seedy side of Newport’s night-life was teeming with night-clubbers in varying degrees of intoxication – ranging from happy drunk, to loud and obnoxious, to leaning towards being arrested. This city’s darkest haunts were like any other – except that this city had been the territory of a predatory and powerful vampire. That much Beckett had already hinted at.
Mike was alert as Beckett drove towards the docks, away from the neon-lit, new town-centre. He parked in front of an Indian restaurant, half-way between the town and the docks, in a dark back street.
“We’re here,” Becket said.
Mike looked around. “Either you’re hungry or that’s a front for something else.”
“Tick, VG. I hope it isn’t that obvious to anyone else.”
Mike shook his head. “No, I’m looking for something else, and I’ve learned not to accept anything on appearance. Suspicion is my friend. Sadly. So, what is it? Curry, or something else?”
“Definitely something else. Before we go in, I’ll give you a summary. I told you that we have codes of conduct and ethics designed to protect both humans and vampires alike. There are alternative ways to gain our nourishment without killing, maiming or … worse … turning. Centuries ago there was a war between the Born – the name speaks for itself – and the Created; – those turned into a vampire. It was then that the Vampire High Council was formed – to police our own so that vampires could live among the humans without causing, or being, hurt. As in all societies, there is the elite and vampires are no different; there is a growing element of the Born that reject our ethics and see humans only as a food source to be disposed of after use. The Created also have their bad guys who also reject the Council and our laws.
“Most often, the victims are left to die, discarded as so much packaging, but sometimes a victim is turned and, when that happens, the sire has a responsibility to the infant vampire, just as any parent to a child. Those who reject the Council and the vampire codes are beginning to turn their victims and abandon them to their fate. The turning is an exquisite agony that cannot be described, and then comes the thirst and the hunger – the desperate need to feed that overtakes every other instinct, even the killer instinct.”
“I’m beginning to get the picture. Jesus, Beckett, I thought demons were a hard enough concept. I clearly haven’t been doing this job long enough.”
Beckett continued, “So, we have volunteers who discreetly hang around the usual places and, if they find a newly-turned alone and suffering, they bring them here – to the Sanctuary. Come on, I’ll show you.”
“Did you do this?” Mike asked.
A shadow fell across Beckett’s eyes. “No. Someone very dear to me created this. She is a brilliant doctor and psychiatrist, a vampire, and over four-hundred years old. And I thought I was going to lose her. I still might.”
Mike let it go, mainly because he didn’t know what to say and Beckett’s face was now a mask of stone.
Inside the front door, the entrance to the Indian restaurant was on the left and a solid door with a swipe-card lock and a keypad stood directly ahead. Beckett swiped his card and tapped on the keypad. A buzzer sounded followed by a clunk as the door yielded to them.
Mike let out a low whistle as he scanned the interior. It was like a hotel reception, manned by a Goth girl in her early twenties with her head bent over her phone. Her desk was central in the room which acted like a hub with corridors leading in the four cardinal directions, and behind the reception desk a wide flight of stairs led to the upper floor.
“It goes way back behind the restaurant and the upstairs covers the entire footprint of the building. There are bedrooms, clinics, feeding rooms and even an operating theatre. The whole place is sound-proofed and enclosed in carbon filters.”
“Hence the absence of a vindaloo aroma!” Mike laughed.
Beckett allowed himself a brief flicker of a smile that he really didn’t feel. He approached the girl on the reception desk.
“Hello Sadie, everything seems quiet. Anything happening?”
Sadie looked up from her phone and smiled at Beckett. “Hi Beckett, yes, a quiet one for a Friday. A young lad was brought in about an hour ago, still in the last phase of the turning and a donor is on the way.”
Mike’s eyes were wide as he followed Beckett. “Donors? Really?”
Beckett’s expression was still flat. “Yes. They are mostly recruited from medical students and some victims are lucky enough to have a family member or loved one as a donor. Other than that we have a network which includes most every part of society; doctors, undertakers, lawyers, you name it. Some of our doctors work in teaching hospitals and they can tell if a student can handle the truth of our existence and then be willing to help – and more importantly - keep silent. The donors are handsomely paid I assure you. They are only allowed to donate at regular intervals unless we have an emergency. Most vampires feed from plastic bags, Mike, not veins. But, as I said, there are those that … well, let’s say, make this place necessary. There are other places like this in many cities around the world, but this one is Lane’s baby. The whole idea was hers and t
his was the first of them. The Mothership, if you like.”
Beckett opened a door at the end of the corridor and pushed it wide for Mike to enter. He felt as if he had stepped back in time. It was a beautiful room, dressed with fine art of every description, antique furniture and adornments. In the middle of the vast Persian carpet, between two elegant but comfortable sofas, there was a beautiful, antique table with a crystal decanter filled with whisky and matching glasses on a solid silver tray. Mike sensed that it was extremely old just by looking at it. He was puzzled.
“This is a far cry from your sitting room at the Cedars,” he said, referring to Beckett’s home and practice just outside Abergavenny.
Beckett smiled. “This is Lane’s room. Most of this was her stuff from when she was human – before her turning. She was beyond wealthy back then, but even so, if you live for four hundred years trying to keep a low profile and you’re clever, it’s easy to amass great wealth. Lane uses a bare minimum of hers for her own comfort and the rest is put to good use. Our lawyers handle everything for her, leaving her free to do what she does best – helping the vampire community by holding a high rank on the Council, running this place and also her regular psychiatric practice.”
Mike looked around appreciatively and sat on the sofa opposite Beckett, while his friend poured two glasses of the old, single malt.
Beckett took a swallow of the scotch. “She’s still in the Long Sleep, healing – it’s been five years now, since she was mauled close to death,” he said, referring to the deep vampire sleep that could last from decades to a century. “That bastard Vasile Tepes will pay when I can get my hands on him, but he’s back in his lair in the Carpathians, too well-protected to get to. But when he sets foot away from there and I hear about it, I will be waiting for him.”
“It was him that almost did for her?” Mike asked.
Beckett nodded.
Mike took a drink. “We have a lot in common, Beckett. Someone you love was damaged by something evil. Now you hunt it. We’re not so very different.”
“I guess not. So, are we going to continue drinking and getting more and more maudlin, or shall I show you around?”
Mike grinned and tossed the remains of the whisky down his throat. “Come on. I’m impressed so far, and prepared to be dazzled.”
They stood up with a new understanding; their bond strengthened.
“I’ll show you the clinics and rest areas upstairs,” Beckett said, as they walked back towards the hub.
Half-way up the stairs, Beckett stopped abruptly and bent forwards, clasping his chest. He staggered sideways before Mike could grab him, sucking in deep gulps of air that went nowhere, leaving him breathless. And then it was over as quickly as it had begun. Beckett was even paler than usual.
“I heard her, Mike. I heard her call my name. And I felt her. I felt her pain. Lane.”
“What the hell …?” Mike gasped, as he lifted Beckett upright.
“Something happened. Something …” He didn’t finish, he leaned back against the wall and grabbed his phone from his pocket, staring at it. It rang.
“How do you do that?” Mike asked.
Beckett ignored him. “Anna, is she …?” he said into the phone.
Sister Anna, a nun in Greece who watched over and took care of Lane in her vampire sleep, answered him briefly.
“She still sleeps, but there is a change. You told me to notify you immediately of any change.”
“What change?” Beckett demanded.
“Lane still sleeps, but she is moving occasionally. It began this morning, only subtle at first, but a moment ago she moved her hand.” There was a brief hesitation in her voice. “And there is something else … I believe that someone is watching me.”
“I’m on my way...” Beckett disconnected the call.
Mike raised an eye-brow. “Is everything OK?”
“No. I have to go. I’ll call Darius to come and pick you up and give you a lift back and he needs to take care of this place while I’m away. I think Lane is waking up – it could be days, or weeks until she’s fully awake. When she went to sleep I promised her that I would be there when she woke up. I intend to keep that promise. And Anna says someone is watching her. While Lane sleeps, her location is safe from the likes of Vasile Tepes: when she wakes , the ancients will be able to locate her. She won’t be safe.”
Mike frowned. “Who is Vasile Tepes?”
“One of the most cruel, most ruthless vampires to walk this earth and who, one day, I intend to kill.”
CHAPTER FIVE: LOST CHALICE
The meeting of The Born from the great vampire houses went on into the dark Carpathian night. All were agreed: the Created were out of control, an infestation that had to be culled, even though the problem had begun close to home many centuries ago. The first of the Created had to have been spawned from one of their own and from there the progression had gone on unchecked.
Most of the Created adhered to the despised codes and laws of the Council but there were others, the dark ones, who revelled in their blood-power and mistakenly believed that their status was enhanced by turning their prey. Drunk on blood and power, they ravaged the underbelly of society – for that is where their prey would go unmissed and unmourned.
Once a vampire is established in their new world, the need to drink for survival comes at lengthier intervals and they can live alongside humans without detection. But there was a new breed among the Created – angry, disrespectful, violent, and with no regard for the ancient ones – who hunted and fed in an orgy of blood lust just because they could. They were a danger to all vampires, as sooner or later they would be unmasked and the human population – their food – would not be such easy prey. If there was one thing that could be said of humans, it was that they were inventive. They would find ways to kill the vampires – Born and Created alike.
If they were to survive, another vampire war was inevitable and, to this end, an alliance between the two houses of Tepes and Vasilakis would be beneficial to all. So said Vasile Tepes to the gathering.
Opposition from the House of Vasilakis was muted, much to the surprise of Vasile and the others of the Tepes clan, and it was left to Alexis Vasilakis to speak for them, although the air was thick with mistrust.
“Fine words, Vasile, but who is to be head of this alliance? You, no doubt! My House will not be subservient to the House of Tepes. Never! The history of your House proves only that it serves its own interests with ruthless disdain and, delivers its own justice on any who oppose it.”
There was a murmuring of agreement amongst the others as Alexis continued, “And what of our territories? Do they also become the property of the Tepes dynasty?”
Vasile Tepes raised a hand. “Have a care, Alexis, that you do not take advantage of my hospitality. I have said an alliance and, an alliance is what I mean – equality in every respect. If we continue to oppose each other, extinction of the Created becomes so much more difficult. Come, we are agreed on that course of action – why then, do you balk at a solution? I have no desire for your territory, my friend. And as for the history of our Houses, I see you make reference to my great-grandfather, Vlad – I would urge you to look to your own lineage. It paints no fine picture. If we continue in this manner, the war will be between ourselves while the abomination that is the Created continues to thrive. How can that be tolerated? I can see there is much that has been said which needs discussion, therefore I am ending this meeting with an open invitation to enjoy my hospitality before you all leave to consider my proposals.”
His eyes darkened as they fixed on Alexis Vasilakis. He hoped it wouldn’t come to it, but any rejection of an alliance would be met with immediate and ruthless aggression. Once the House of Vasilakis was brought to heel, the rest would follow; the name of Tepes was still feared among the vampire race. Alexis had got that part right. And he knew it.
“My House thanks you for your hospitality, Vasile, and I am certain I speak for the rest of the gathering wh
en I say that we will consider your proposals. For the House of Vasilakis, I thank you for your continued generosity, but we wish to leave now to consult all members of our House.”
This effectively brought the gathering to a close and, one by one, the Houses took their leave. Vasile was enraged; it hadn’t gone according to his plan and that was always a precursor to someone not having a good day. The resurrection of his ancestor was becoming more urgent. He, Vasile, had led the House of Tepes for centuries but, even in his supreme arrogance, he knew that it was Vlad that would unite the Born. His terrible name would be enough.
But, to do that, he needed the lost chalice.
Every folk tale holds a grain of truth and this was no exception. Vlad III – Vlad Dracula – held an iron grip on his people through a reign of terror and enforcement of order that none dared oppose when the legend of the chalice was born.
As his blood lust grew into frenzy, Vlad drank the blood of those he had impaled from a golden chalice. Daily, he supped the terrible potion from the chalice until he could no longer stomach food. Then, one day, in an act of perverse entertainment, he placed the chalice on the fountain in Tirgoviste, his capital, instructing all to drink freely from the golden cup, announcing that even the poorest of beggars could drink like a prince. But removal of the chalice would be answered by impalement. Such was his control, no-one dared to remove it; however poor, however great its value. It was on the day of its disappearance that the people of Wallachia knew that Vlad was dead.
At the end of the fourth crusade, Constantinople – the capital of the Byzantine Empire – fell leaving it vulnerable to looting and pillage by mutinous crusaders. They terrorized, and vandalized the ancient city for three days, some stealing ancient and priceless works of art. Betrayed by the Church and threatened with excommunication, some of the Crusaders violated the city’s holy places and stole everything they could lay hands on, including sacred objects. The Crusader army sacked churches, monasteries and convents in their lust for glory and, it was from one of those important and sacred edifices that the chalice had been removed.
