hatch,” I said. “I will be
in soon.”
“How?”
“I will find another way.” I had no time to
dispute and pushed him down into the opening. I sealed the door myself from the
outside and waited to hear him lock it. From there, I crept the quarter mile to
the rear of the cathedral. The swarms were gone but a shadowy figure was
perched on the roof and disappeared when I approached. Vlad’s frequency
vibrated with a dull hum until it faded and I was alone again.
As I clung to the brick of the rear wall, I
made my way to the east side of the cathedral, peeking around the corner to
find an empty yard. Not even one lone bloodless wandered past the walls. I
clawed my way along the side, beneath the stained glass windows, to the front
courtyard, where again I spied nothing. But the air was no longer silent, for
the low rumble of feeding bloodless echoed in the darkness. As I rounded the
corner, I anticipated the swarm, one much greater than I had ever seen, feasting
on a carcass. The flesh hypnotized them, as they tore it apart and pulverized
everything including the bones. I did not need to see what caused their frenzy,
for I knew it was the newly drained body of Marco.
Later. — Jean was forced to
give up Marco when Vlad found his way into the cathedral. “Je n’ai rien pu
faire,” he said.
“And the girl?”
“À l’abri.”
She was safe. He sent Vlad on his way,
satisfied with the man. Jean heard the frequency too, knowing his maker was
here. For several nights, he had anticipated his arrival, sensing its coming as
I had. “I would not have left if you had confirmed my suspicions,” I said.
“Forgive me,” he said. “I zought zat I could
’andle ’im on my own. It was more important for you to go.”
“Are you sure he is gone?”
“’E took all zat ’e zought we ’ad.”
“Our only donor,” I said.
Vlad had come in through a hatch in one of
the spires on the roof. We had left them unlocked, thinking the bloodless could
never climb up. He came alone, telling Jean he had witnessed most of his clan succumb
to blood starvation. Toktomer was gone, he said. Like Byron, he had given in to
malnutrition, and given up. Often the case with vampires who consumed gluttonously,
they suffered greatest with a scarcity of blood. Jean pitied Vlad, waning as he
was under the fast. He told his progeny he had scoured high and low for food
but had little success securing human blood. Jean appeased his maker, inviting
him to stay for a little nourishment. I had taught him the importance of hospitality,
but regret it now. He tried to satisfy his maker with a small vial of Marco’s
blood, but when the impaler tasted it, he went mad.
“I didn’t know,” Jean said. “I couldn’t let
’im suffer.”
“No,” I said. “Instead we shall all suffer.”
Vlad’s appeal was a ruse. He hid his true
strength from Jean, for he had more than enough force to throw his progeny out
of the way and seize Marco. Elizabeth could not help since she had rushed to
the girl’s side to keep her hidden while the villain robbed our store. Vlad tore
the chamber door off its hinges and threw himself on our donor, sucking him dry
in record time. Jean watched in horror, as his maker drained the source we had
held so dear.
“Why did he leave?” I asked.
“Il n’a rien dit.” He did not say.
He took Marco’s body with him when he made
his escape through the hatch in the spire, flashing his bloody fangs at Jean
before greeting the darkness awaiting him.
“He used the body as a diversion,” I said.
I knew why Vlad left; he was no match for me
and a confrontation would surely finish him. My strength will outmatch his any
day, starving or not. I am older than he, older than Toktomer and the Houses of
Dracul and Bazaraab, and such primacy counts for something in our world. We
hold to no hierarchy or seniority, but the sanctity of one as old as I is undeniable.
It may sound foolish that we keep tradition, even as we face
in soon.”
“How?”
“I will find another way.” I had no time to
dispute and pushed him down into the opening. I sealed the door myself from the
outside and waited to hear him lock it. From there, I crept the quarter mile to
the rear of the cathedral. The swarms were gone but a shadowy figure was
perched on the roof and disappeared when I approached. Vlad’s frequency
vibrated with a dull hum until it faded and I was alone again.
As I clung to the brick of the rear wall, I
made my way to the east side of the cathedral, peeking around the corner to
find an empty yard. Not even one lone bloodless wandered past the walls. I
clawed my way along the side, beneath the stained glass windows, to the front
courtyard, where again I spied nothing. But the air was no longer silent, for
the low rumble of feeding bloodless echoed in the darkness. As I rounded the
corner, I anticipated the swarm, one much greater than I had ever seen, feasting
on a carcass. The flesh hypnotized them, as they tore it apart and pulverized
everything including the bones. I did not need to see what caused their frenzy,
for I knew it was the newly drained body of Marco.
Later. — Jean was forced to
give up Marco when Vlad found his way into the cathedral. “Je n’ai rien pu
faire,” he said.
“And the girl?”
“À l’abri.”
She was safe. He sent Vlad on his way,
satisfied with the man. Jean heard the frequency too, knowing his maker was
here. For several nights, he had anticipated his arrival, sensing its coming as
I had. “I would not have left if you had confirmed my suspicions,” I said.
“Forgive me,” he said. “I zought zat I could
’andle ’im on my own. It was more important for you to go.”
“Are you sure he is gone?”
“’E took all zat ’e zought we ’ad.”
“Our only donor,” I said.
Vlad had come in through a hatch in one of
the spires on the roof. We had left them unlocked, thinking the bloodless could
never climb up. He came alone, telling Jean he had witnessed most of his clan succumb
to blood starvation. Toktomer was gone, he said. Like Byron, he had given in to
malnutrition, and given up. Often the case with vampires who consumed gluttonously,
they suffered greatest with a scarcity of blood. Jean pitied Vlad, waning as he
was under the fast. He told his progeny he had scoured high and low for food
but had little success securing human blood. Jean appeased his maker, inviting
him to stay for a little nourishment. I had taught him the importance of hospitality,
but regret it now. He tried to satisfy his maker with a small vial of Marco’s
blood, but when the impaler tasted it, he went mad.
“I didn’t know,” Jean said. “I couldn’t let
’im suffer.”
“No,” I said. “Instead we shall all suffer.”
Vlad’s appeal was a ruse. He hid his true
strength from Jean, for he had more than enough force to throw his progeny out
of the way and seize Marco. Elizabeth could not help since she had rushed to
the girl’s side to keep her hidden while the villain robbed our store. Vlad tore
the chamber door off its hinges and threw himself on our donor, sucking him dry
in record time. Jean watched in horror, as his maker drained the source we had
held so dear.
“Why did he leave?” I asked.
“Il n’a rien dit.” He did not say.
He took Marco’s body with him when he made
his escape through the hatch in the spire, flashing his bloody fangs at Jean
before greeting the darkness awaiting him.
“He used the body as a diversion,” I said.
I knew why Vlad left; he was no match for me
and a confrontation would surely finish him. My strength will outmatch his any
day, starving or not. I am older than he, older than Toktomer and the Houses of
Dracul and Bazaraab, and such primacy counts for something in our world. We
hold to no hierarchy or seniority, but the sanctity of one as old as I is undeniable.
It may sound foolish that we keep tradition, even as we face
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