Strigoi

by John O'Brien

  “If this pact is ever broken, the devastation would be horrendous, with both sides weakened to the point that both our races would be reduced to ashes and the entire aspect repeated. Ultimately, neither side would win, and that’s been the way of it over countless generations,” Vladmir begins.

  “So, you speak of you and us being a different species?” I query.

  “We are. And just like you humans, we are neither inherently good nor bad. We just are. While we may look similar, I can assure you that we are not.”

  “Was it always that way?” Gonzalez asks.

  “As far back as any of our histories tell us, yes. But, I believe you are referencing the stories of humans being turned. Not only are you the food source that keeps us alive, but humans are turned and go through a transition into our species. The chicken or the egg, as it were.”

  I begin to say something, but Vladmir holds up his hand. “Let me explain it further, and then you can ask your questions.

  “The source of our life is your blood, which is supplied these days. We seldom feed on your kind anymore. But, in order to proliferate our kind, we do attempt to turn some. It’s not what you want to hear, I know, but that is the price of the pact—a blind eye turned. However, only a few survive the transformation.”

  I look to see how this is being taken by the team and find Allie’s eyes as wide as saucers. Gonzalez appears to be taking it in stride and Greg seems skeptical. Henderson and Denton, well, they seem bored, if that’s even possible.

  “Your kind is changing genetically, and there are fewer now who are able to complete it. Many fail the final transformation and become the mindless animals you encountered. By mindless, I mean that they retain the cunning, but without the higher cognitive process that we enjoy. Those who do survive the final transformation are indoctrinated into our way of life and live by the rules.

  “We’ve had rogue groups and those mindless ones who escape our control in the past, but our dwindling numbers prevent us from hunting them down as we previously have. Thus, we ask for assistance from time to time. As you can well imagine, it is in both of our interests that this remains out of your public’s eye. And lately, it has reached a point where all the teams we sent in have been discovered and vanquished when dealing with the larger packs.”

  “Okay, so you mentioned a difference between turning and feeding. That implies that they aren’t the same thing,” I say.

  “No,” Vladmir says, smiling widely to show an elongated fang. “When we attempt to turn someone, we inject a serum, much like a snake injects its venom. When we feed, we merely drink the blood.”

  “Do you breathe?” Henderson chimes in.

  “No, not in the sense that you mean. That’s one of the reasons why we are thought of as undead creatures. We use air for the purpose of speech and to expel carbon dioxide from the use of oxygen, much like your own respiratory system. Our lungs are smaller, as they aren’t required for the transfer of oxygen. Our cells receive oxygenation directly from the blood, and our hearts only beat during ingestion to transfer the new blood directly to our cells. That is also handled differently, so the oxygen can be stored for a great length of time.

  “We are not dead, but the blood isn’t oxidized in the same manner as yours. That leads to our extraordinarily long life, compared to yours. But, even that eventually comes to an end. We don’t necessarily need rest, but do so to lessen our expenditure of oxygen. Unfortunately, we cannot manufacture our own blood as your bodies do, and therefore we need to resupply. So, you see, we are not the same.”

  “So, a few more questions if you don’t mind.”

  Vladmir waves a hand for me to continue.

  “Okay. One, where do you get the supply of blood? I’m gathering from our conversation that you don’t necessarily venture into the populace for feeding.’

  “We do sometimes, but not often. As for blood supply, you cannot believe that all of the blood collected worldwide is purely for medical purposes. And, I’ll let you know from the outset that we have not created breeding programs as you do for your food. That is against the pact,” Vladmir answers. “Although, there have been some among us who have pushed for secret programs such as this, especially in view of our declining numbers.”

  “What’s to stop others from doing that?” I query.

  “Those you see in this room. Those seated with us are leaders of the other covens spread throughout the world.”

  “Well, I feel rather privileged, then.”

  “As well you should. I do not mean that harshly, but it is seldom we gather in one group anymore.”

  “Okay, I have to ask. How old are you?’

  “I do not think I’ll answer that directly, but suffice it to say that I have personally witnessed much of the current humankind’s progress.”

  “So, ten thousand years?”

  Vladmir shrugs in response.

  “Five thousand?”

  I see Greg smiling out of the corner of my eye.

  Again Vladmir shrugs.

  “Is there any truth to the legend that if you take down the leader, those they turned will fall?”

  “Pure legend, I assure you,” Vladmir responds.

  “Okay, this is a little awkward, but if we’re going to help out, could we go back to the physiology? And I hope it isn’t weird to ask about,” I say.

  “It is the purpose of this meeting,” Vladmir states. “Our heart is used to cycle our blood, not only during feeding, but also depending on our needs. It doesn’t pump continually like yours, but only when necessary. So, if our heart isn’t allowed to pump, we essentially suffocate as the cells are unable to be infused. It also holds the pressure of the blood in place in order to oxygenate the cells, so it’s more of a hydraulic pump than the heart you are accustomed to.

  “Sever the system or leak enough blood and our bodies will fail. Know, however, that it will take a near complete loss of blood for that to occur. It is the same with the head. We heal quickly, but that takes from our oxygen reserve. If any of us has a single thread of flesh attached to an appendage, it can regrow swiftly depending on when we fed last. If we’re at full strength, that healing can be performed in seconds. However, we’d then have to leave to recuperate and feed, but we wouldn’t be dead. See, everything is a balance between oxygen availability and our abilities.”

  “And you recuperate through a fresh supply of blood?”

  “Yes. If I can get a supply, then I can be back in full condition in mere moments. That is why we are viewed as immortal. As long as we can heal our heart or head and neither is severed, then we will live as long as we have an adequate supply of fresh blood, thus an adequate supply of oxygen.”

  “So, it’s basically bleed your kind dry or completely sever the heart or the head?” Gonzalez interjects.

  “Yes.”

  “Is that the reason why satellites aren’t able to pick up the presence of packs?” I ask.

  “That is correct. We do not emit a constant heat signature—only when we are producing high outputs of energy or cycling the blood after feeding,” Vladmir replies.

  “All right. I get that, no pulse, no heat production, but surely your bodies require heat, right?” I query.

  “No, our bodies are not like yours. We adapt to the surrounding temperature unless exerting ourselves. That is another reason why we have been thought of as undead.”

  “And that doesn’t interfere with or slow your movement in any way?” I question.

  “No.”

  I glance at the painting depicting the two clashing armies, imagining how difficult it must have been to accomplish any of that when armor was involved. Vladmir notices my straying gaze.

  “You know, it is a little ironic that the weapons of yore were better suited in many ways.”

  “I’m just glad we’re not dealing with armor,” I reply. “That would make the task border on damn near impossible.”

  “I assure you that armor created difficulties on both sides, Mr. Walke
r.”

  “Okay, getting back to our little Q&A. How long do you need between feedings?”

  “That is something that I will keep to myself, but know that we can survive for many days without a new supply. That is dependent upon the demands placed on our bodies. If absolutely required, we can live for months between feedings, albeit in a weakened condition. The more recently we have fed, the stronger we are.”

  “Fair enough. If it’s the oxygen in the blood that you rely on, then why not use animals? They have oxygenated blood.”

  “We can and do if required. But, the genetics just are not the same. It would be much like you having to survive only on McDonald’s burgers. You could live, but at the cost of a variety of health issues. Some of us who have turned away from the covens are those who have relied too heavily on animal blood, wanting the thrill of the chase. In the end, they become animals themselves.

  “So, I’m taking it that wooden stakes through the heart and crosses have no effect,” I say.

  “We have been around much longer than the cross. That is something the church invented to be seen as protectors of humankind. There is no mere symbol or totem that affects us. Can you think of one that would affect humans?” Vladmir replies.

  I couldn’t. Point made.

  “The stakes through the chest were to keep us from rising, not a means to kill us. It was also a means to cut the heart in two, but that method seldom worked,” Vladmir continues.

  “Aren’t you worried about telling us all of this? I mean, what’s to prevent you from becoming eradicated in light of your dwindling numbers? Humankind has done it to others for much less reason,” Denton says, making his presence known.

  “That’s why we only associate with humans who are trusted. But, do not be fooled. We are quite capable of defending ourselves should it become necessary. Dwindling does not mean our imminent extinction. We will survive for many, many years. If we have to fight, the resulting war will be waged across the world, the likes of which have never before been witnessed by your kind.”

  “Okay, then,” Denton says.

  “So, if I’m to get this right, those that we’ve encountered, they’re like you, but didn’t develop correctly?” I ask. “They’re akin to animals, but still cunning—ferocious and with enough remaining intellect that they aren’t going to race down central avenues.”

  “They will strike in the outlying areas, but that is essentially correct,” Vladmir responds.

  “Aside from the physiological differences, I saw the strigoi employ something along the lines of teleportation, but there was a trailing cloud of black. What exactly is that?” I ask.

  Suddenly, Vladmir disappears into a streak of black that goes around the end of the table. Quickly rising, I shove the high-backed chair I was sitting on backward with a grinding of the wooden legs on the hardwood floor. It tips and hits the ground with a thump. I’m diving toward the ground, away from the streak of black I see in my peripheral, rolling on my shoulder and grabbing for the knife strapped to my thigh opposite my handgun. Rising instantly to my feet, the dark shadow has materialized behind where I was. Reaching out, I grab the gray strands of hair in a ponytail, yanking back and closing with my knife under the sternum.

  The others of the team have all leapt from their chairs.

  “Please don’t do that again,” I whisper in Vladmir’s ear. “The next time, I won’t hesitate.”

  “Mr. Walker, don’t ever hesitate,” Vladmir returns, his body vanishing from my grasp to materialize a short distance away, and I’m left holding nothing but air.

  “It was merely a demonstration of the rift,” Vladmir states, returning to his chair.

  Stowing my blade, I pick up the chair and slowly sit, the others of Red Team hesitantly returning to theirs. My heart is pounding from the instant shot of adrenaline. It feels a little unnatural to take my seat with so much energy coursing through my arteries, and I need a moment to calm myself. My mouth is dry and I take a drink from the glass before I’m able to speak.

  “So, you call that the rift. I take it that neat little trick takes energy as well. I remember one trying that after being injured; it seemed surprised that it didn’t travel as far as it anticipated,” I say.

  “Yes. Everything we do takes energy, just as does everything you do. The difference is that yours is replenished and expended quickly, while ours is more of a storehouse that is replenished by feeding. If you expend a lot of energy, you have to rest in order for your levels return. We have to feed to do the same,” Vladmir replies.

  “Are you able to alter directions once the rift begins?” I ask, noticing Greg roll his eyes from my numerous questions.

  I said it before: I’m curious, and I’ll take anything that could be advantageous.

  “No. We have to substantiate ourselves first. It is a preplanned maneuver in direction and distance.”

  “Are you immaterial during the rift? Can you be injured?”

  “Yes and no. Because our molecules are spread out, any damage is lessened.”

  “I will assume you can injure others while in the midst of a rift.”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, that hardly seems fair,” Gonzalez says.

  “Describe fair. Is it fair that a bear or tiger can kill with one swipe? Is it fair that humans can develop long-range weapons or breed so rapidly?”

  “I didn’t ask for logic,” Gonzalez mutters.

  “Did you not?”

  “Are you able to go through objects? I notice you went around the table rather than straight through it,” I inquire.

  “Yes, but it takes a great deal of energy to do so. And, one has to be able to observe the other side. Rifting works by visualizing the end point and drawing the two together. Keep in mind, although it is a preferred method of attack, it draws a great deal from our store. The idea is that the energy can be replenished almost immediately by the kill.”

  “You were able to rift out of my grasp. Two questions. How long between…rifts…are you able to do that? And, is there any way to prevent it?”

  “The ability replenishes after a couple of seconds. The only way to truly prevent it is to weaken one to the point of, well, I’ll say exhaustion for lack of a better term. Think of it as running, then perhaps it will make more sense. When you begin, at first you feel fresh and can keep going. But, as you expend energy, you become more limited in your speed and duration. You wear out, and so do we.”

  “How many times can you effectively do that?”

  “That depends on how recently we’ve fed, what we’ve fed on, how far we travel, and ability. Each of us has differing abilities, just like individual humans. Some can jump longer, run faster, leap higher. As for the number of times, indefinitely if we have the energy to do so. I imagine your next question will be distance related. I believe if you keep twenty-five yards in mind, you could probably define the limits of our best.”

  I’m struck by how fucking strange this is, to be talking to creatures of myth and legend that could be thousands of years old. The sheer amount of knowledge they must have rattling inside their heads has to be staggering. If it weren’t for our ability to breed like rabbits, I’m not sure humans would be around outside of animal pens, like cows in pasture.

  Probably more like a big chicken farm, crammed together in cages.

  I’m also wondering why they are volunteering all of this information that could be detrimental to their survival. Granted, they are asking for help, but I haven’t noticed a hint of worry from those seated next to Vladmir. I know I’d be nervous as fuck if I were telling another species how to kill my kind. I suppose that with their long lives, they are thinking further down the road. I’m just a blip on their radar, and any plans they might have extend way beyond my meager lifespan. It could be that our short lives just don’t seem like a threat to someone who can heal themselves and last a thousand years. Our lives must seem so trivial by comparison.

  Are they biding their time until humankind destroys it
self?

  That is a distinct possibility. After all, they can afford to be patient. I find myself worrying about what they are not telling us. However, they genuinely seem to want our assistance in dealing with their animalistic brethren. And, they want to keep everything quiet, as any long-range plans they may have could be upset by their presence becoming public knowledge.

  Regardless, it’s pretty obvious that they’ve amassed fortunes throughout their existence. This place and the ability to hide from the public face must take a lot of resources. It could even be that they donate to the Organization to keep their secret hidden. The more I think about it, the more that makes sense. I’m not against the balance that has been struck. Now, that will quickly change if they take over and start throwing us in cramped cages to breed.

  “I have a few more questions, if you don’t mind?” I ask.

  Vladmir nods for me to continue.

  “When I was running for my life and crying out for my mother, those chasing me seemed faster and more agile. Is that true?”

  “We may hold the edge in quickness, but we aren’t faster per se. The rift may make us appear so. With regards to reaction times, we are in line with perhaps those in your top tier. Understand that it is the rift that gives us an edge,” Vladmir answers.

  “You create others by this injection of serum, not by breeding, correct?” Gonzalez asks.

  Vladmir nods.

  “Then, how was your species created in the first place?”

  “How was humankind first created?” Vladmir returns.

  “Fair point,” Gonzalez concedes.

  “You’re predators, like us. How do you detect prey? It’s pretty damn obvious that you are able to see in the dark,” I state.

  “I’m not sure I can fully explain it. We are able to enhance any light source, much like your NVG technology, but also in the infrared and thermal spectrums. I’d like to clarify that last part, as it is more the heartbeat or pulse that we are able to identify. Our vision automatically adjusts all of the spectrums into a single image. I’d like to add that the pulse is what draws out our animalistic instincts, which we are able to control, but those less developed cannot,” Vladmir answers.