Vlad Tepes, the Vigilante Vampire

by Lillie J. Roberts

  Some of the human politicians called upon Vanic, mostly to gain support for one cause or another, thinking they dealt with a powerful human instead of a potent vampire. Vanic was patient, probably much more than I with my limited tolerance for schemers. Slowly we settled into the new roles with less privacy than before, but it wasn't all bad either. Our wandering was over, Chicago became our permanent home. Now, if only we could avoid the same fates as the Draculs and Sangreets, for once everything would fall peacefully into place. That should have been my first warning that things were going to hell, things are seldom as they appear on the surface.

  The only other consideration was the criminal element contained within the city. Franco Crifaseno, the local crime boss, brought himself to our attention, another of the schemers.

  Sarah was putting the finishing touches on our apartments, the bedrooms turned into sun-tight spaces with soft beds, and other creature comforts. One of the vampires employed to help in our enforced governing, came to her with a message from the Crifaseno family leader. It seemed the man wanted to meet, earning my displeasure. We had enough to worry about without human interference. Sarah showed him into Vanic's study where he and I waited.

  “Mr. Crifaseno, I wish I could say it was a pleasure.” He greeted the man with an extended hand.

  “Mr. Tepes, the same back to you.” Crifaseno pumped Vanic's arm with vigor. He was a smallish man, not quite meeting Vanic's shoulders. He had beefy hands, arms well versed in manual labors, a thick neck led to a round head with heavy jowls, and short cropped carrot colored hair. His expensive suit fit his almost trim body, just starting to go to seed. His belly was going soft, a small flabby paunch threatened to spill over his belt.

  “Thought I should come by, introduce myself, we do business in the same town and all.” His crocodile grin grated on my already frayed nerves.

  Vanic met his grin with one of his own, and it showed no pleasure in this man's reeking presence. Death was a constant companion of Franc Crifaseno, someone he called friend. We didn't want to be reminded of death's presence. It was at home in our natures. Crifaseno forced death, while we held death's hand tightly in our grip.

  Franc Crifaseno would remain untouched until he stepped over the unseen line into vampire business. Then, his worthless life with all its little dramas belonged to me.. He was an astute mobster and it broke across my wary senses that he looked upon us as something other than human, something preternatural. But surely I was overreacting to the man. It was nonsense, humans were forbidden to possess knowledge of our existence. For the first time, I didn't want to trust my senses. It couldn't be true, could it?

  We let him believe if he kept to himself we would leave him in peace. Unfortunately, sometimes humans are crafty, and there was more going on than my family realized. Violence would not be tolerated and the perpetrators would be dealt with quickly and with extreme prejudice, but what would happen if the violence came from within our own circle? A new chapter began in our vampiric lives, one we would not have chosen for ourselves, but one we were unable to deny.

  Chapter Eleven

  As large and wide as Chicago was, the demands of the Vampire Hierarchy began to take its toll. A steel and concrete trap encircled me. My beast growled, raising its head, seeking to be sated, to slake its needs. It ached for the hunt. Vanic had purchased large apartments in the downtown area close to where we could feed, but also where we'd maintain our privacy. We could sleep undisturbed, relax in the safety of our sun protected rooms, secure with handpicked guards. If only I could find a way to lose myself.

  *****

  Midsummer in the Midwest, hot and sultry, the air was like a red-hot kiss even near the midnight hour. The need for the hunt stole over me, and my beast roared to life in a primal sort of way. I searched for something I could use to appease the need, and I made my way to the Mustang. Taking the top down with hands that begged to be unleashed, I climbed behind the wheel. Speed, exhilaration, and annihilation, my beast relished them all. My gaze found the rearview mirror, wildness looked back at me. With my foot to the floor and my head flung back, my blond hair flowing out behind me, I sped through the night, looking for something, anything, a diversion.

  My answer was found in the area deemed safe as the vampiric hunting grounds. It was a coarse place, gray except for the colored graffiti. The humanity existing in this vicinity was polluted by evil and distain. With little regard for the boys hanging out near a long defunct bus stop, I left the car. But I couldn't help myself, and at the last moment, I swung around, my beast winked at them and they scattered like bugs in the beam of a flashlight. I wouldn't need to worry about the Mustang either. I tipped my head back and thundered a laugh. It was good to be undead.

  My distraction was found as I continued into a rundown tavern, stinking of sour liquor, stale smoke, and unwashed humanity. If I couldn't give my beast the hunt, at least this hellhole would relieve the anxiousness creeping through my body. I wasn't looking for a fight, just hoping one would find me. My shoulders rolled with the tension and I climbed onto a rickety bar stool like I belonged there.

  “What'll you have?” a bartender with an unlit cigarette dangling on the edge of his lip asked.

  “Beer, anything on draft.” I sniffed the rancid air as he slipped the foaming amber liquid in front of me. I threw a twenty on the bar and his hand snaked out to grab it.

  Near the end of the bar sat a man whose soul reeked of cruelty. Even twenty feet away, the smell of blood and death permeated the atmosphere. Its coppery scent flared my nostrils. My beast purred and stretched languidly, like the lion before the attack, stalking through the concrete jungle. My conscience screamed to alert the authorities, but my beast lazily said why bother? It snapped its jaws, licked its parched lips. He'd make a tasty morsel, just evil enough to keep it exciting. Then I thought who was I going to tell? And what? That I tripped through someone's thoughts to find him a murderer? Who would they take away first? So, my beast got its way. Injustice once again found me.

  I touched his thoughts to find him lost in his latest atrocity. He was reliving the recent murder of a young prostitute, the feel of her smooth chocolate, brown skin, his high as he impaled her body. And then when he reached inside her and held her still warm heart, his ecstasy. It cut through my body, my beast honing in on its target, and it would not be denied. My prey may have thought he was the predator, but he would be wrong.

  As I stood at the bar, disgorging this thing of its memories, I discovered his victim was not his first, nor would she be his last. He already sought another. The question was, which beast would win the hunt first, his sick one or my fastidious one? This is what my beast had been searching for, and the true hunt began.

  For several nights, my beast found the man, watching and waiting. He went from one lowly night spot to another seeking the scent of his next target, preying upon that part of society no one would miss. Until one night, my beast stalked him as the man stalked his prey. It wouldn't be much longer now. I could feel his need growing to appease his misguided God. With evidence of his foul desires, my beast restlessly growled, needing to be set free. It was almost time.

  He homed in on a young man who was as pretty as any girl. He was thin to the point of anorexia, his ribs visible through the papery fabric of his t-shirt. His body bore bruises, his was a hard life. The man approached the boy. “What's the charge for a blow job?”

  “Depends. You're not going to want any of that freaky stuff, right?” The boy looked the man over, brushed against his chest, and the man bristled away.

  “Nah, just want to take care of business.” He inched away from the boy.

  “Yeah, okay, fifty bucks.” The boy held out his hand and the man grumbled, pulled out his thick wallet, and handed the money over.

  “Come on around back.” The boy quickly shoved the money in his pocket.

  He pierced the boy with his deadly stare, growing lust in his eyes. He followed willingly, the sounds of cars roaring by the only mus
ic and the scent of exhaust fumes fragranced the night.

  The boy led him into a darkened alley where the man's needs were to be met. He let the boy finish what he'd paid for, but instead of releasing the boy, the man brandished a knife for him to see.

  “Damn you, look what you did... What you made me do... See what your evilness brought? See what your sins forced me to do? Now I gotta kill you, now you gotta die!” The boy squatted on the ground, horror filled his eyes. His life was about to end.

  Instantly, the boy went from performing the requested service to begging for his life as he knelt before the man on his hands and knees. “Come on, man. I did just what you wanted. Here, have your money back.” The boy dug into his pocket. “You don't have to cut me, I'll never tell nobody.” Tears streamed down the boy's face. The man's pants remained unzipped, his face flushed from release.

  Rounding the corner at that precise moment brought the man's attention to myself, and he shoved the knife into my face. “Who the fuck are you?” he screamed, his foul breath washed over me. I'd interrupted his plans, for this he thought to make me pay.

  “Now, mister, you don't want to do that, you don't even know me.” I cajoled the murderer, hands raised in a harmless gesture. “What're you doing with that knife?” I pointed toward the boy, who continued to cry, sitting in the dirt. “What's going on here?”

  “Please mister—” the boy started, “—he's going to...” But before he could finish his thought, the man backhanded him, knocking him sideways. That brought me between the man and the boy.

  “Get out of here, this ain't your business!” The man continued to threaten with the knife, shoving it in my direction. He acted menacing and powerful, but he hadn't seen true menace yet. My beast demanded its freedom, begged to set upon the man, to threaten him as he had threatened the boy.

  “Why don't you let the boy go and we'll talk about it?” I reasoned with the psychopath.

  The boy took the hint, and I emptied a wad of cash into his hand. “Go, get out of here. Get some food or better yet, call your parents, tell them where you're at, go home.”

  When the boy saw his opportunity, he ran as if the devil was at his heels, and the devil was, the man surely would have killed him in one mighty thrust. The man stood with disbelief in his eyes then he turned to chase the boy down. But I grabbed his arm, halting his momentum.

  “Look, you piece of shit, get out of my way or I'm going to kill you too.” He tried with the knife again, but I danced out of reach, and his anger came to a boil. The boy was long gone, out of sight, and I sighed, relaxing into the fight, not doubting whose beast would be the best.

  “You don't know what you're getting yourself into...” I warned in a soft voice, my beast began to enjoy this dance of hunter and hunted. Only, the man didn't know he was no longer the hunter, he had become the hunted.

  He swung out with the knife one more time, and my fingers extended out to claws, thrusting back at him grazing the soft skin on his well developed abdomen. He screamed, backing away, slipping to his knees. I eyed him and brought the bloodied points to my face to inhale the coppery scent. My tongue flicked out, licking the droplets away.

  Holding his insides within his body, he finally managed to raise his bulging eyes to mine, understanding gave away to disbelief. “What are you? You ain't human, you're an abomination before my God!” He scraped against the rough wall of the building, pulling himself up and backing away.

  Ignoring his words, I stepped closer, sniffing the air, my eyes closed. The coppery scent was like an aphrodisiac to my senses. “If I were you, I'd be running.” It was almost a whisper. Lifting my nose to the air once more, my eyes still closed, I inhaled more deeply than before. “Not that it'll do you any good. Tonight is your last night as the hunter.”

  “You're a freak!” he screamed as he hobbled toward the blackness of the night, his feet barely able to carry his weight. He glanced around, but just as help didn't come to his victims, no one offered him safety either.

  “Yeah, I'm a freak like you've never seen.” My beast whispered into the eery glow of the moonlight enveloping our bodies as he scurried further away. My long dormant muscles stretched, there would be no escape. My beast let the man play out a little rope. He thought he had escaped before my beast burst to life, bolting the man to the ground. I jerked him back into my body, his scent was repugnant, stinking of uncleanliness and the rotting stench of death.

  But the richness of his blood was just as enticing as his odor was foul. My beast brutally twisted his neck, baring the soft flesh of his throat. My fangs found their entrance and I drank until his life was only a glimmer, soon to be lost. Gazing down at the prey my beast had consumed, I sealed the wound, dropping him into the filth of the alley.

  “Never bring a knife to a fight with a vampire.” His heartbeat weakened, then stopped, and I left him like I found him, knife encrusted with the blood of others clutched tightly in his hand. His pants loose and undone with the packed dirt of the alley as his bed, alone with the death.

  The next morning, the papers claimed the serial killer dubbed “The Night Stalker” had been found, dead by his own hand, the only thing curious was the lack of blood. The police said it was an apparent suicide committed with the same weapon he had used on at least ten other victims. The boy involved never came forward, and in my visits around the city, I haven't seen him since. Maybe he took my advice, called his parents, and escaped the city that almost led to his death.

  Did vampires have nightmares about death? The vampiric sleep was a little death in itself, dreams or nightmares of any kind were lost. The Council may have brought us here and possibly watched our every move, but I was compelled by my own sense of right and wrong.

  *****

  Vanic found me on the next evening. “A problem's been brought to my attention. I need someone to look into it. I could assign one of the guards, but I'd really prefer you to look into the problem, at least until we know what's going on.”

  It was the first time he'd requested anything from me. “I'll be happy to take a look. What's the situation?”

  He clapped my shoulder. “Good, we've had reports of a rogue vampire in one of the rural areas. Do you think you can take care of the problem?”

  “Time and location?”

  He looked away for a moment, and then back. “The reports say to the south and in the early morning hours. I'll find the exact location later this evening. You'll need to take rooms somewhere in the area. Would you like Sarah to set something up?”

  “No, I'll manage. Just tell me where I need to go.” Gathering myself to leave, I turned and smiled at Vanic. “Never thought of myself as some kind of law officer, guess it's going to take some getting used to.”

  He scrubbed his large hand across his face. “Never thought I'd be a politician either, how did we get into this mess?”

  “Beats me, but the Council's up to something, I know it.”

  “By the Gods, what have we stepped into?” Vanic grimaced.

  Chapter Twelve

  With night's end, my mind began to turn over Vanic's problem. A rogue vampire? How odd that the Council was unaware of the problem. Or were they hiding something even more sinister? Did they know and purposely put my family in danger to solve their problem?

  The location of the attacks was spread over a wide area, and most certainly the work of either a newly turned vampire or a rogue, unhappy with the Council decision to place the Tepes family in charge of the Chicago area. Was I looking for a Dracul or Sangreet unhappy with the outcome? On the next evening's rising, I left the city behind, heading into rural Illinois where the evidence led and to see if my assumptions were correct. Either the Council knew more or someone was undead and unhappy.

  *****

  The exact location of the attacks started near Rantoul, Illinois, a dying one-time prosperous city in the throes of rural reclamation. The scent of the kills crossed over into Champaign. From there, I was led me to the heart of the University dist
rict.. The deaths were spread over a wide area, harder to put together—if not for the vampiric nature.

  With my senses on high alert, feeling like a predator tracking a tantalizing scent, I scouted the area. Buildings and boulevards in stages of renewal led me deeper into the city. My gut was telling me I was in the right place. The rogue wouldn't hunt too close to home, but near enough to avoid the sun's deadly rays.

  On my second night in the area, I picked up the coppery scent of blood like a whisper on the wind. Closing my eyes, I inhaled deeply and began to follow the scent away from the University and into the outlying area, closer to Urbana than Champaign, the killing field expanding with the growing need. The scent became stronger, fresher. Whoever was behind these deaths was close by. Moving in and out of yards where better days had been seen, I crouched down, bringing a handful of the tired soil to my face. The scent was everywhere now, it was hard to locate an exact direction.

  When I raised my face to the darkness, a pair of glowing eyes insane with bloodlust stared back into mine. It wasn't what I was expecting, and I swiftly jumped to my feet, blurring into motion. I've only seen eyes that color once before, in Paris where I'd found Sarah. Could our rogue vampire be a rogue were instead? The bodies had been mutilated like an animal attack, but perfect for concealing vampiric feeding.

  My thoughts reached across the distance to the being not more than a hundred yards away now. Something awful had happened to its mind. Its thoughts were a jumble of impressions; death, gore, blood, feasting. A shiver quaked through my body. This human had been abused, made into something he wasn't and the beast, whether it be were or vampire, had taken possession of his body, mind, and soul.

  I shook my head, tried to rid my mind of the residual effects of the rogue who stood in front of me. He was scenting me, trying to discover what I was. Was I prey? Growling low in the back of my throat, I let my own beast out a little, answering the one before me, prey I wasn't. Recognition sank in his eyes and he growled back in return. We circled each other for a few moments, until he stepped into the moonlight. His face was unlined, youthful, little more than a child, surely no more than seventeen or eighteen years old. I'd seen pictures on him of television, somewhere from Indiana. He'd been missing for more than a year, maybe two.