by Jan McDonald
Mihai moved with vampire-speed, unseen, through the streets of Tirgoviste, until he came to the outskirts and a dark, empty, church. He settled down near the ornate screen and searched the ether, calling out to any vampire loyal to the council to come to their aid. He didn’t feel any response. The threat of Vlad returning, it seemed, was enough to test the loyalty of the staunchest council supporter. He turned his focus onto his maker.
“Jean-Baptiste! I know you hear me! I sense your presence, make yourself known to me! I implore you. You MUST know what is at stake. How can you ignore me? How can you be so selfish as to take yourself into the Eternal Sleep, because I know that is what you are contemplating? Selfish and irresponsible! Yes – irresponsible because as the First One, we are ALL your responsibility. Damn you to hell! Answer me! I KNOW you hear me!”
The silence deafened him.
“Then fuck you! Know this, my maker, if we come through this I will hunt you down and help you into the Eternal Sleep myself! You bastard!”
There was a sudden movement of air behind him and Jean-Baptiste Vincent stepped from behind a heavily carved pillar.
“Such hot words, Mihai. I thought you would have more faith in me. “
Mihai spun around, his countenance livid with unspent fury.
“Why? Why did you not answer me? You knew I was there, in New Orleans, why run out on me? On all of us? Have you become a coward as well?”
“Because, Mihai, I believed that after millennia, you were amply capable of looking after yourself. Was I mistaken?”
Mihai shook his head with sadness. How could his maker have become so cold, so callous? “You know it’s not about me.”
The First One lowered his head. “No,” he said quietly, “no, it isn’t. There seems to have grown a lack of trust between us, Patriarch. I was wrong. But you are right; I have many times contemplated the Eternal Sleep – selfish, yes – irresponsible, maybe – but never a coward. I left New Orleans to get ahead of the game, but I was too late also. Vasile Tepes does indeed have the Bloody Chalice and will perform the Waking Ritual on Vlad – and yes, Vlad was one of my biggest mistakes. I turned him in the hope that it would help him bring the people of Transylvania out of the darkness, instead it made him into the bloodiest ruler they had ever seen.”
“You cannot allow this,” Mihai continued, his rage subsiding but his intensity still on fire. “You cannot allow this to happen. It is your responsibility to stand with us!”
Jean-Baptiste nodded slowly, “I’m here, am I not? I suggest we collect the others and waste no more time on insulting each other.”
Together they sped, unseen again, through Tirgoviste, “You know where he is?” Mihai asked.
“I know where he is headed – to Poenari.”
Mihai almost spat the words. “His castle ruins.”
“Indeed. It seems it is not only Vlad that is to be restored.”
“You have the authority to command support. Why haven’t you done so?” Mihai demanded.
“Because if we succeed here, there will be no need to put so many lives at risk. And, before you say it, we do not stand a better chance with more numbers. There is to be dark magic abroad here tonight, Mihai. An army won’t make any difference. Yes, blood will be spilled, it is inevitable, but fate will also play its part.”
They arrived, almost materialising in front of the others; something that Mike would never get used to.
Lane appeared unmoved by Mihai’s companion, and Lafayette nodded at his former employer. “Sir,” he said.
Beckett and Darius instinctively took a step back and Mike closed in on them. “Mihai?” Beckett challenged, “Who is your friend?”
Lane read his resentment and stepped forward, “Allow me to introduce Jean-Baptiste Vincent, the First One. And yes, I literally mean, the First One. We are all ‘descended’, if that is the word, from him.”
They took in the tall, dark olive-skinned man who stood before them, dressed as he always was in Louisiana colonial gentleman style, in a cream linen suit, white shirt, and white bow tie. He looked ridiculous.
He read them collectively, as only the First One could. “Yes, I’m afraid I didn’t have time to change. But I expect before the night is out, I shall have need to and will find some suitable clothing as we travel. Shall we go?”
“Where?” demanded Beckett, unmoved by the presence of the first of all vampires, the most ancient of their kind. He was simply pissed off by Mihai’s high-handedness and more than ready for a fight.
Lane was increasingly alarmed at Beckett’s resentment of Mihai and answered before the Patriarch could. “I’m guessing we are headed deep into the Carpathians. Vasile’s stronghold is there, but so too is the ruin of Vlad’s castle on the crags above the Arges River, at Poenari. Am I right?”
Mihai smiled at her and nodded. Beckett scowled. Mike was simply happy that something positive was happening at last.
Out of Mike’s hearing she pressed Mihai. “What do we have in the way of weapons?”
“Our personal ones, and there are a few blades. The guns and silver nitrate-coated bullets didn’t make it. Our network is good, but not that good that we can get guns and ammunition onto a plane, even if it is our plane. The blades were already concealed on board as standard but that’s it. We haven’t had time to gather more since we were here.”
The journey to Poenari by road was usually around two hours, but at that time of year, with snow already falling, the main highway was going to be almost impossible, possibly closed. Although ‘closed’ didn’t mean much to vampires. Still, Mihai had foreseen such events and their vehicle was a Peugot Traveller, eight-seater and an all-terrain monster that may have lacked a little in speed, but would get them to their destination, road closed or not.
Snow was settling now in Tirgoviste, so the further into the Carpathians they ventured, the more certain it was to be a white-out. Mike’s apprehension returned and his thoughts went to Beth, in her own world, safe in the care of Roman at the Strazca headquarters. He sent her a silent message, or it may have been a prayer.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE: TO POENARI
The Vampire Rite of Waking, more commonly referred to as The Waking Ritual, is magic at its blackest, and, if not performed absolutely correctly, with no mistakes or errors of judgement, is likely to cost the life of the one performing the ritual along with the one they were aiming to ‘wake’.
In his present state, Vlad, who had been ‘asleep’ for six centuries, after receiving what would have been mortal wounds in a human, lay on the borderland between life and death. It was only his consciousness that kept him from slipping into the Eternal Sleep, where no vampire, not even Vlad, could return from; it would be vampire death.
Vasile was calm as he prepared for the ritual. He called Nicolae.
“Sir?” Nicolae kept his head down, it was always best that way when Vasile was in one of his moods. And he especially didn’t want his master reading his thoughts and discovering his treachery over Davina.
“How long have you served this House, Nicolae?”
“Most of my life, sir. I came here as a boy, as you know.”
“You know, don’t you, the history of my House?”
Head stayed down, “Yes, sir, and I know the honour that serving you has brought me.”
Vasile nodded and appeared to be thinking; in fact he was trying to read Nicolae. Had it not been for Alexis Vasilakis putting protection on him, Nicolae would have been an open book to Vasile. The fact that he couldn’t troubled him, but he let it go; after all, Nicolae would be serving him for the last time soon enough.
He appeared to come to a decision and strode towards the stairs to the crypt.
“I have business at my great-grandfather’s castle and I need you to assist me.” He refrained from adding ‘one last time’.
Nicolae nodded his understanding; suddenly he regretted his mortality.
“We are crossing the Arges River, Nicolae, returning to my ancestral home to per
form an important ceremony. It will be rebuilt once again into our sanctuary. Have no doubt on that.”
Nicolae didn’t.
“You have always been forbidden to enter the locked room beneath us, but you will follow me now.”
Nicolae kept several paces behind Vasile as he descended the stairs to the crypt. It was true, he had never been inside the locked room, but he wasn’t stupid, and he had worked out years ago what, or who, was down there. Now he was certain of it. The fact that Vasile was about to share this with him, now after all his years of loyal service, told a grim story – his life expectancy was about to be radically reduced.
His thoughts went to Davina, relieved that she was safe with Alexis Vasilakis, at least he would die knowing he had protected her, that she was safe. He had a choice – he could go with Vasile and do his best to do as much damage as he could before his life was claimed in some damnable rite, or he could cut and run. The second option, at his time of life didn’t involve much in the way of running, and he knew that Vasile would be on him in a heart-beat ready to rip out his throat. Either way, his future was short-term. He decided to go along and try and wreak as much havoc as he could before the end.
He followed Vasile several more paces behind than usual, his eyes still cast down, as the present Head of the House of Tepes opened the heavy door leading to the crypt.
“Have you never been tempted to come down here, Nicolae? Curious about what lies behind this door?”
Nicolae shook his head, “No, sir. You forbade it.”
Vasile smiled a satisfied smile. “You have always been loyal, Nicolae.” The thought did not, however, make him reconsider Nicolae as a fitting candidate to bleed out to fill Vlad’s veins in a feeding frenzy once the ritual was complete and Vlad had drunk Tepes blood from the chalice, restoring him as Vlad Dracula, Head of the House of Tepes. “Your loyalty will be rewarded and you shall witness a miracle. At Poenari I will perform a ceremony that will once again make the House of Tepes feared throughout Transylvania and beyond.”
He stepped aside and ushered Nicolae into the crypt, allowing the door to close behind him.
“Come,” Vasile said, “I will introduce you to your new master.”
He strode over to the stone coffin and looked down onto the desiccated features of the man who had been the most feared and merciless ruler, Vlad Dracula, Prince of Wallachia, now Transylvania.
Nicolae followed his gaze. Could this pitiful cadaver really be him? Could he really be brought back? No blood flowed in the veins, no heart beat beneath the brittle ribcage, and no breath filled the dried up lungs. How was this possible?
Suddenly, Nicolae felt overcome; his breath caught in his chest and an icy hand clutched at his heart, sending shock-waves throughout his body making him feel faint. There was ringing in his ears and a trickle of cold sweat ran down his back. He could feel his bladder slacken – it didn’t take much at his age. And then he was looking into the open, desolate eyes of the most cruel of the vampire race and he knew – he knew that the seemingly impossible was about to become a reality – Vlad Dracula was going to rise.
He closed his eyes and opened them again slowly. Vlad’s eyes were closed as before and he knew instinctively that they had never opened, just as he knew that life remained in the skeletal form lying on the frigid stone on a blanket of frozen snow.
And he prayed.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR: ANOTHER MARINESCU
Mihai dismissed the driver of their vehicle – there was no point in sending an innocent member of their network to a certain death, and a bloody one at that. Some of those in the employ of the Council knew that they worked for vampires and had been entrusted with their codes of conduct and their secrets. Most of them had been victims, one way or another, of those vampires who flouted the code and fed without regard for human life.
Radu Lupescu was such a man.
He still woke at night screaming his mother’s name, bathed in sweat and sick to his stomach. He still recalled vividly the images and memories of the night she was dragged from her bed and her throat ripped out as the vampire Andrei Marinescu gorged on her blood and left her drained of all her life-giving fluid in a mangled heap on the bedroom floor, where he was in hiding under the bed. He had been four years old at the time.
He had been taken in and raised by a man who, he subsequently discovered, was a vampire – a vampire that lived on the right side of the tracks; a vampire with a conscience and a responsibility to the victims of the ruthless, and who brought him up to understand that, just like humans, not all vampires were evil. Radu’s conviction had never been broken and when his adoptive father was slain by one of the Tepes family, he went straight to the Council and offered himself in service.
But he never forgot the face of Andrei Marinescu; it would haunt him forever. And now, he was looking at that face all over again.
Darius had grown to resemble his vicious brother, Andrei, in physical likeness only, and it had been his life-long mission to avenge his own family whom Andrei had slain without a second thought. It was while Darius was hunting Andrei, that he had come into contact with Beckett and Lane.
Darius was exceedingly pale and Beckett realised that the turning had left him in a more weakened and ravenously hungry state than he had anticipated. It scared him, because in that state Darius was unpredictable. In addition to that, he had taken into himself the blood of another callous and ruthless vampire, feeding on the very DNA of pure evil. It was going to take some time for it to be diluted and eradicated, and that had to done in a controlled environment. Not here in the wilds of the Carpathian Mountains, where the very air they breathed was tainted by the name Tepes.
Radu was in conflict.
He had sworn his loyalty to the Council and had been proud to serve them in their network in several capacities, and he had always volunteered to drive Mihai whenever he was in Romania. But here, right in front of him, there could be no mistake in the Marinescu lineage.
He turned to Mihai. “Thank you, Mihai, but I would prefer to drive you onwards. The roads are treacherous now with the lying snow and there is much more to fall yet this night. I am used to it – you will be safer if I drive you.”
Mihai looked up into the snow-laden sky. Already the flakes were falling heavy and fast, settling on their clothes and hair. There was logic in what Radu said, but still, the thought of an innocent death being down to them left a nasty taste in his mouth. He was about to protest when Radu spoke up again.
“I would consider it a breach of trust and negligent of my sworn duty to abandon you to these conditions. Now, if you would please get into the vehicle, we will go. I understand from your conversations that there is a certain degree of haste involved?”
Mihai smiled at him and nodded. “Thank you Radu, we will be honoured for you to drive us to Poenari.”
They were mostly quiet on the drive, all aware of the hazardous conditions that Radu was negotiating and all deep in thought about whether they would reach Poenari in time to stop Vasile raising Vlad and unleashing the darkest of evil into the world.
Mihai sat next to Radu, with Mike, Beckett and Darius behind and Lane and Lafayette with Jean-Baptiste in the rear seats. Mike kept his voice low, questions mounting and needing answers.
“I need to know what to expect here, Beckett. I gather it’s going to be a blood-bath. But there are seven of us against one; seems like good odds to me. But that’s too simple isn’t it? So, take your mind off the kid for a minute and tell me.”
“I’m sorry, Mike,” he glanced at Darius and nodded his understanding that he had neglected Mike’s urgent need for knowledge before taking on Vasile, pre-occupied as he had been by Darius in crisis. He began to regret taking him with them, unpredictable as he was right then.
He continued, “Vlad has been in the Long Sleep for too long. He isn’t able to wake up on his own and so there is going to be the Waking Ritual. Usually, it’s a ritual to Shemsu, the Blood God of the Ancient Egyptians, but that’
s just window dressing. Basically, it boils down to the equivalent of a blood transfusion only not in a pleasant way. Vlad’s veins by now will carry little in the way of blood and need to be filled, in what amounts to feeding him blood – a lot of blood. This time it’s different, because of the Bloody Chalice. You know the history of that, and with that and the gorging on blood, Vasile intends to restore Vlad.”
Mike frowned. “A lot of blood? Forgive my curiosity here, but where exactly is that coming from? I’m beginning to feel like Meals-On-Wheels here.”
Beckett was in no mood for Mike’s sarcasm. “Vasile isn’t expecting us, so I doubt we are the planned source of it. He will already have a sacrifice there – knowing or unknowing – he won’t care which. My money is on the old man that lives with him.”
“Not some voluptuous female from the local village?”
“Forget the movies, Mike, especially the bad ones; this is no joke!”
“See me laughing? It’s just that I would have thought there would be more vitality in blood from a younger source, that’s all. Two more questions: why an Ancient Egyptian god, Shemwhatever, when these guys are in Transylvania? And secondly, can we expect any help here?”
Mihai turned around to answer him. “I’ll answer your first question, Mike. Ancient Egypt is where it began. It was my home. It is where the First One was created and where the blood-cult worshipping the god Shemsu also began. In the temple at Dendera, Shemsu was worshipped as Lord of Blood, Slaughterer of the Gods and He Who Dismembers Bodies. He had the power to raise the dead with sacrificial blood. He was also god of the oil and wine, and was not averse to ripping the head off a wrong-doer and putting it in the wine-press to extract the blood from it.”
