My Immortal: The Vampires of Berlin

by Lee Rudnicki

  The Allies had no way to know that bravery was not the reason that Heydrich jumped out of the car to fight off his Czech attackers. Point of fact, by May 1942, it had already become impossible to kill the wicked Reichsprotektor with mere bullets and hand grenades.

  He had already turned.

  65

  Old Town

  Things were tense in Prague in the closing days of the war, but the Nazis were still in control. Despite the Waffen SS announcement on Radio Prague that any uprising would be drowned in a sea of blood, the Czechs took to the streets as rumors of the imminent German surrender spread. They wanted their city back.

  Against this backdrop, the old Skoda truck wound through the narrow cobblestone streets of Old Town Prague. Just before the Charles Bridge, the driver approached a makeshift checkpoint that was manned by a dozen well-armed partisans. The Czechs were riled up and obviously looking for a fight.

  The brakes squeaked as the truck rolled to a stop. In the back, Wolf and Axel readied their weapons as angry men with weapons of every kind surrounded the vehicle. A Czech held an American M1 rifle to the driver’s head and demanded papers.

  “Dobry den,” the driver muttered as he nervously handed his travel documents over. The partisan eyed the papers suspiciously. Suddenly, he backed away from the truck with his hand over his mouth. He waved them on.

  The truck rolled through the checkpoint and onto the Charles Bridge. Eva watched the beautiful stone angels, crosses and religious icons that lined the medieval bridge through a small hole in the side of the truck as they crossed the Vltava River.

  Axel was astounded that they had gotten through the checkpoint without incident. “How the hell did you do that?”

  “The Czechs are terrified of the epidemics that are breaking out all over Europe,” Heydrich replied. “The last thing they want to do right now is stop a truck full of typhoid patients.”

  Wolf wasn’t convinced. “What if the partisans had opened the back of the truck?”

  “Then all of them would be dead. That could have been inconvenient for us if one of them had alerted his friends to our presence before we got to Prague Castle.”

  Wolf and Axel exchanged worried glances.

  Prague Castle?

  66

  Prague Castle

  The SS guards snapped to attention as Heydrich entered. “Heil Hitler!”

  Heydrich returned a quick salute then turned his attention to his guests. “Welcome to Prague Castle or Prazky Hrad as our annoying Czech friends call it; the former home of the King of Bohemia and a few Holy Roman Emperors. The Basilica of St. Vitus, founded in the 10th century, is also on the grounds. You won’t see it today, but I assure you that it’s quite picturesque. Once the war is over, you will have all of the time to explore Prague that you want.”

  Wolf was in no mood to sightsee. “This city will be in enemy territory soon. After a few years of treating the Czechs like our goddamn house pets, this country is a powder keg. I don’t want to be here when the war ends, no sane German does. We need to go somewhere safe.”

  Heydrich looked at Wolf with a condescending smile typically reserved for foolish children. “Major, please. Contain your emotions. Yes, it is true that we will soon be behind enemy lines. But this part of the castle has been fortified and prepared for this very contingency. Neither the Russians, nor the stupid Czechs, nor any of our men outside of these guards even know this area exists. And even if they did, these walls are two meters thick. General Chuikov and 2,000 Russian tanks could pull up to the front gate right now and they wouldn’t get in here in time to stop us.”

  “Stop us from what? What the hell is going on here?” Wolf’s patience was wearing thin.

  “I will explain everything in due time, Major. Now please, get some rest. We’ll talk at dinner.” Heydrich clapped his hands. “Guards! Show our guests to their rooms.”

  67

  The Triumph of Evil

  Twenty-four hours ago, Wolf was defending Berlin Cathedral against repeated Russian assaults. Now, he found himself in a dining room deep inside Prague Castle as a SS guard in a white jacket poured him a glass of absinthe. Fine china, beautiful crystal and a traditional Czech meal of pork stew, sauerkraut and knedliky dumplings adorned the table. This was the weirdest day of Wolf’s life. He didn’t know whether to be happy, angry or terrified.

  Heydrich raised his glass. “To the Fatherland...”

  Wolf and Axel were in no mood for a toast, but the situation was fluid and unpredictable, so they complied.

  “To the Fatherland...”

  The absinthe burned when it went down, but its high alcohol content and potent ingredients made the strange dinner a little easier to comprehend.

  “And to the two brave German warriors who made Final Victory possible,” Heydrich continued, raising his glass for the second time.

  “Final Victory?” Wolf was baffled. The Wehrmacht had been destroyed at Stalingrad. The remnants got chased back to Germany through one of the worst winters Russia has ever known and smashed into barely recognizable pieces. Germany’s soldiers didn’t have enough ammunition or men to defend Berlin for another day, let alone mount a counter-offensive. “We should go to Switzerland,” he said. “We don’t want to surrender to the Russians. I thought we learned that in Berlin.”

  “The Red Army will be dealt with soon,” Heydrich replied. “As will the Americans, British and French. In fact, I have a special present for the French. They whine about the art that we have taken from them, but it was the French who pillaged all of the great civilizations of the world. The sheer volume of looted art and archeological specimens in the Louvre is obscene. Did you know that Napoleon himself once stole the chariot right off of the top of the Brandenburg Gate and shipped it back to Paris to display in the Louvre?”

  Wolf and Axel shrugged.

  “It is true,” Heydrich said. “The French are bigger thieves than the English, something I once did not think possible. My first gift to the French is going to be the annihilation of the Louvre.” Heydrich’s outlandish rant ended with a demonic laugh that echoed throughout the room and made him sound possessed.

  Wolf was stupefied. The world was crumbling around them and Heydrich wanted to hold the French accountable for having a large museum. Dealing with an egomaniacal Nazi lunatic was a fine state of affairs when that egomaniacal Nazi lunatic was taking them out of Berlin on an airplane, but the fantasy had to end. Germany would surrender soon; they just had to find somewhere safe to hide out until then.

  “With all due respect, sir, the war is over,” Axel said. “Germany lost. There is nothing left. Millions of innocent people are dead.”

  “No one is ever truly innocent,” Heydrich replied.

  The waiter interrupted the uncomfortable silence with a question that sent a chill through Wolf’s bones. “Herr Reichsprotektor, shall I bring more wine?”

  Wolf knocked his glass over and green absinthe flowed across the table. He suddenly knew the identity of his host and it terrified him. “Reichsprotektor Reinhard Heydrich. The Butcher of Prague. The blond beast.”

  “Himmler’s evil genius,” Axel added.

  “Correct on all counts,” Heydrich replied. “But Himmler doesn’t own me—I am my own evil genius. Besides, he’s probably dead by now.”

  “But you yourself died in a bomb attack three years ago. Here in Prague. The Führer attended your memorial,” Wolf said.

  “Things are never quite what they seem, are they, Major?” Heydrich laughed and took another sip of absinthe.

  “Those innocent villagers in Lidice were murdered to avenge your death. But you were still alive.”

  “The elimination of that speck of dust on a map was a strategic necessity. No one would have believed that I was dead unless there had been a proportionate response to my assassination.”

  “A proportionate response? Do you call wiping out an entire village of innocent people a proportionate response?” Wolf shouted.

  Heydrich
remained calm. “It was necessary so that Operation Tristan could continue without interference. And it has.” The evil Reichsprotektor then got up and walked around the table. “The only bump in the road was the bomb that hit Gestapo headquarters. Eva momentarily escaped from our grasp. But then you found her for us—in a church of all places. As a result of your efforts to retrieve her, the war shall end. But the war shall not end how Winston Churchill believes it shall end. The war shall end with the triumph of Nazi Germany.”

  The triumph of evil, Wolf thought.

  “For your heroic actions, you shall both receive The Order Of The Grand Cross Of The Iron Cross.” Heydrich then clapped his hands. “Guards! Prepare the girl for the ritual.”

  Axel and Wolf got up. “No-no-no,” Wolf said. “Eva stays with us. We’ve been through a lot together.”

  The guards stepped back, unsure of what to do with sudden defiance on the part of their honored guests.

  “Sit down, gentlemen. This wretched girl is the sole and exclusive property of the Führer,” Heydrich said. “She is the only reason that I brought you out of Berlin. If it weren’t for her, you would be hanging by your neck from the rafters of the Reichstag.”

  “She saved my life,” Axel said.

  “Fine. Now, step back from the brink of treason and reap the rewards that you deserve for bringing her to us.”

  “Leave her alone!” Wolf yelled.

  “An illiterate, Romanian peasant is not worth your deaths at the hands of my guards. She is but a small sacrifice for the future of the Reich—guards, take her!”

  The next moments were in slow motion.

  Axel pushes a guard ... a plate falls to the floor ... Heydrich pulls a Luger ... Eva screams ... Gunshot ... Muzzle flash ... Pressure and intense heat ... Axel falls ... a guard pulls Eva away ... Heydrich jumps onto the table ...

  When time sped up again, Axel was dead and Heydrich had his Luger pointed right at Wolf’s head.

  “Here are the current circumstances,” Heydrich said. “As it stands right now, you are still a hero of the Fatherland. You will soon have more money, women and power than you can possibly imagine. But if you move against me and try to interfere with Operation Tristan, I will rip your heart out. Literally.”

  “But the war is over,” Wolf protested.

  “Correction, major. The war is almost over. Soon, London, Moscow, Paris and Washington will be nothing but fading memories. The Fourth Reich will last for 1,000 years, because there won’t be anyone left to oppose us when we’re done.”

  Wolf lost it. “You’re insane! How many more millions of innocent people have to die in this war? Tell me! How many? How many more innocent people have to die?”

  “As many as it takes!”

  68

  Goodbye Blue Skies

  With the surreal banquet in the Führerbunker concluded, Adolf Hitler retired to his study to spend a few quiet final moments with his wife. Ten minutes later, Goebbels retrieved him; it was time to say goodbye to his staff.

  Everyone quietly stood in a receiving line as the Führer shuffled into the situation room wearing his gray tunic emblazoned with the Gold Party Badge, the Iron Cross First Class and the Wounded Badge of the First World War. In stark contrast to his chipper and excited presence at dinner, the Führer looked as if he was on death’s doorstep. Technically speaking, he was.

  Starting with General Krebs, Hitler took each person’s hand and said the same exact tired words, as if the message had been carefully memorized. “Thank you. You have done a great service for the Third Reich. Your sacrifices have brought Final Victory to Nazi Germany.”

  He said goodbye to his SS adjutant, Otto Günsche. Then to his valet, Heinz Linge. Then to secretary Traudl Junge and all of the others. The tearful ceremony ended with a pat on the head and a few pieces of candy for each of the six Goebbels children, Helga, Hilde, Helmut, Hedda, Holdine and little four-year old Heidrun Elisabeth.

  His staff appreciated the kind words, but they were surprised to hear the Führer talking about Final Victory as if it were still in the realm of rational possibility. With Berlin in ruins, they were convinced that his optimism was either a denial mechanism or a brave face put on for their benefit. They thought the presence of the wizard Adalgar in the bunker was a charade; no one really believed that the Führer had a supernatural weapon.

  When Hitler had finished saying goodbye, an SS guard led most of his staff and the kids out of the room. Only General Krebs, Goebbels, Hitler, Eva Braun and Adalgar remained. “Where’s Axmann?” the Führer asked.

  “Artur has still not returned,” Goebbels replied, annoyed at having to answer the question for the sixth time.

  “His presence is not important,” Adalgar said. “It is time to commence Operation Tristan.” The wizard knew that the next step of the secret Teutonic ritual would be the true test of the Führer’s faith in his powers. Of course, with a million revenge-seeking Russian troops closing in on the bunker, the alternative strategies were not very attractive.

  Adolf Hitler had taken great pains to ensure that there was no chance the Russians could capture him alive. Nonetheless, he had a certain amount of fear that the supernatural operation might fail. He couldn’t show his trepidation; the success of the mission depended on those who would temporarily outlive him. If they sensed hesitance or fear on his part, they would not be inclined to stay in Berlin to help him conduct Operation Tristan. Especially if they knew that doing so would cost them their lives.

  Hitler embraced his wife one last time. He didn’t love the woman; she simply fulfilled his need for companionship in a brutal world of his own creation where he could trust no one. Nonetheless, Eva Braun had been faithful to him to the very end. As her reward, Hitler decided that he would be the one to take her life. “Goodbye, my love,” he said as he raised the pistol.

  Eva Braun smiled and closed her eyes.

  Bang! Hitler shot her dead.

  As his wife crumpled to the floor, Hitler knew in his cold, black heart that his fate now rested in the hands of the Romanian peasant girl who he had named Eva in her honor. When Operation Tristan was complete, his soul and consciousness would be channeled into her body; the immortal body of a vampire. His own vessel had aged and suffered considerable damage since the assassination attempt at Wolfsschanze and he was ready to move on to something more permanent. “Get it over with,” he ordered.

  “As you wish.” Goebbels took the pistol out of the Führer’s hands and put it to his head.

  General Krebs panicked. “What the hell is going on? Hold on a second! This is Tristan? You’re going to shoot him? Hold on a second! This is not—”

  Bang! Hitler’s blood and brains sprayed onto the wall a millisecond after Goebbels pulled the trigger. His body fell to the floor with a thud.

  Krebs was in shock. “Oh my God! Oh my God! You killed Hitler! You just fucking killed Hitler!” he screamed.

  “The heart of Germany has ceased to beat—but only for a moment,” Goebbels replied. His hand trembled as he put the gun down, betraying his cool, calm and collected exterior. “Help me with the body, Adalgar.”

  Krebs watched in stunned disbelief as the two men dragged Hitler’s body onto a small metal alloy bed. Once the body was in position, they carefully aligned the diamond and sapphire pyramids that sat on small platforms on the top of each bedpost. Operation Tristan was ready.

  A few hours after Adolf Hitler died for the first time, Admiral Karl Dönitz was appointed the new Reichspräsident of Germany. Hitler intended Dönitz to hold that office just until Operation Tristan was complete and he could return to power. Then, the Führer would utilize his newfound power to commence the first phase of World War III—the complete annihilation of the Soviet Union.

  69

  The Vampire Prophecy

  Wolf hit the floor as the heavy door slammed shut behind him. He jumped to his feet and screamed through the tiny window. “Let me out of here, you filthy apes!”

  When he got no re
sponse, he kicked the door. He kicked it again and again and again until he thought his foot was broken.

  “You’re too late,” came a faint voice behind him.

  Wolf froze. It never occurred to him that someone else might be in the cell with him.

  He turned around slowly. There was a gaunt, hairless and pale vampire chained to the floor. The pathetic creature looks starved, he thought. He is dying.

  “The Nazis have won the war,” Vlad said quietly.

  “That is not possible,” Wolf replied.

  “It is already so.”

  Wolf closed his eyes and tried to calm himself. “We can not allow that to happen. We must stop them.”

  “I can do nothing. Heydrich injected me with garlic serum. I will be dead within the hour.”

  Wolf’s head was spinning. He sat down on the floor and tried to make sense of the unfolding chaotic situation. “What do they want with Eva?”

  “The creature they call Eva is the last reincarnation of a vampire goddess, destined by prophecy to rule our kind for 700 years. Heydrich learned of the vampire prophecy before the war; that evil wizard Adalgar helped him ascertain the location and birth date of the chosen one. The Gestapo searched the Romanian countryside for two years until they found her. Until I found her for them.”

  That sudden realization sent a chill down Wolf’s spine. “You helped them. Why?”

  “Hitler made a very tempting business proposal. The vampire elders realized the true nature of whom they were dealing with and wisely turned him down. I was not so perceptive. I sold my soul to the devil for my own greedy purposes ... the balance of nature was affected.”