May 1940
It had become a strange new world to us, where the vampires were not the enemy. Mortals had become the creatures of the night, as they partake in senseless slaughter of their fellow man. Dante grew furious with each passing night, the victims would mound up, all baring a yellow star on their clothing. Perhaps they are marked for death? There had been more questions than answers as I tried to figure out what the world was coming to. Our journey brought us inland, towards the cities and out of the quaint towns that bared tainted innocence.
Yet what worried me the most, was our actions haven’t gone unnoticed by any means, the death of the soldiers made the headline of the paper, and yet the paper claimed to have taken those responsible into custody. It made no sense to me when I read that a rouge group of Jews were responsible, it went into details as to how the soldiers were killed, far beyond the truth of the incident. But in the end, the men who died at their hands were hailed as heroes. Those ‘responsible’ were quickly put to death. Senseless acts had begun to take the better of me. I found myself full of rage much like my brother. Those soldiers died at our hands, no one else! I would lash out in public, unable to find a way of expressing my displeasure or holding myself back. It frightened me. Such anger wasn’t like me, not with my faith in God. But, I found myself anger, all the time. I had nearly exposed myself to the mortals one afternoon, to prove that it was Dante and I behind the deaths of the soldiers. Only then, did I realize I was becoming my brother. It was the last thing I wanted to do.
The nights would pass, as Dante would continue his vigilante work. He grew bolder each night, he slayed soldiers he stalked during the day, ensuring those who witnessed the crime would spread the word that it’s the work of something greater than a single group of mortal men.
Sadly, no matter how many who would see Dante slay, no one announced that it was a ‘demon man’. It was the Jews fault.
But there were those who knew better.
It occurred on an oddly cool night. We were trying to process the day, Dante wanted to do something drastic. I wanted to leave and be away from the slaying of the mortals. My anger issues were not resolved through my prayer to God. I had been conflicted more than anything. I knew it was illogical to fight. But my heart of all things, wanted to spill blood. We couldn’t decide if what was done, was the correct path, maybe Dante and I had made things worst. As we sat in silence, Dante could sense someone approach. He rose from the ground as an elder appeared before us. I was quick to join Dante’s side. Worried a fight would occur.
The strangest thing happened. The elder pulled a blade from his side; he cut his hand and let his blood fall to the ground. “I swear on my blood, no harm is intended for you. We wish to speak a truce”
It was quick to realize that Dante went from attack mode to a more settled state. He approached the elder and gave a sincere nod to him. “Who wishes to speak with us?”
The elder first introduced himself as Angus, and the one who wished to speak to us was one older than even himself. He invoked the blood vow, and stood by it, meaning they are not going to harm us. As Angus turned to leave, I took hold of Dante’s arm. I didn’t trust this immortal the least bit; as well, I wasn’t sure what a blood vow had to do with our safety. He spilt his own blood, how was that to make him trustworthy?
Dante however knew the laws of a blood vow. It was invoked many times when he was under the imprisonment of Caine. He could see through the bars, as the vampires would spill their own blood when it came to a task that could spell death for those who failed. Anyone who goes back on such a promise of blood is considered unworthy of it. Not only is it shameful, it insults the immortal that sired them, and the bloodline they come from. Many have died under Caine’s command after spilling their promise in blood.
I still didn’t believe Angus, but Dante assured me no harm would befall us. We followed Angus off the rooftop and down to the alleyway. He stood at the end of the pathway and removed a sewer drain. Angus went in first. Neither of us understood why we were taking to the underground, but followed either way. Dante went first as he nearly landed in the muck below, he called up to warn me of such a surprise should I leap in without thought. Angus waited as I slowly eased myself into the underground, still uncertain to the elder and his intentions. Angus backtracked as he quickly covered the sewer and moved us along. “We have heard of your kills from the papers, isn’t it shameful that you’re not getting the credit?” Angus asked, nearly joking with the idea at hand.
Neither of us shared the joke and continued to move along the sewer’s ways. He hovered inches above the muck as Dante noticed odd things that lingered in the sewer. Clothing, shoes, as if people had traveled down the underground before. Angus came to a sudden stop. We stood before a wall where the brick was discolored from all the others. “You must turn around” he insisted.
I did as requested, Dante as well. The damned don’t trust us with such a secret. We turned back around the moment the sound of bricks parting. The brothers were surprised to see the wall was the door. Angus welcomed them in. Dante went first as he climbed over the threshold, I went second. The brick door came to a close the moment Angus walked past the threshold, as if on instinct. The smell from the sewer vanished as we found ourselves at the center of attention. The insides appeared like a mortal pub, yet the decoration disturbed me.
The hung on the walls like butchered meat, were the corpses of mortal men. All were dead, yet all suffered in their demise, they shared the same uniform, the same boots and the same wounds. None had a torn neck, but all had a single large hole in their chest. Dante took a closer look, shattered ribs, torn tissue and organs had oozed out. “Don’t mind the décor, it’s all we could do in the mean time. You saw what happens when a soldier is killed.” Angus announced.
I was certain there were other reasons for keeping the corpses. After all, their tablecloths were made from their uniforms, the vampires had used their red bands as napkins and dish cloths. As the belt buckles were hung like ordainments among the candle chandeliers. When my eyes stopped wondering, I noticed the room had divided itself. A clear path was given to us that led to a single table in the middle of the pub. My hearts began to race within my chest as I looked to the patriots. Every creature was an elder, older than Dante and I put together. If it came down to a fight just to escape the elders, I doubt we would make it out alive.
Dante however, didn’t share my fear. Instead, he walked with proud, confident strides. I saw into the eyes of a few elders, I realized then that they were more frightened of him! We sat at the table as two mugs were placed before is. Another was arranged across from them. I saw that the far end of the room contained another entrances into the establishment. Perhaps our guest was to come through the far doors.
We hard them open, at the back of the bar. The vampires once more parted as many began to lower their heads in respect and submission. A young woman walked through the sea of elders until she stood a chair before us. Her long hair came partly over her face, raven black it be precise. I instantly thought of Lylith, yet she proved to be nothing like her.
The elder’s slender hand reached across the table and extended to Dante and I. “My name is Janet” she announced.
I shook her hand respectfully as Dante went as far as offering a tender kiss to the top of her elegant hand. She dressed head to toe in black, like all the other immortals in this country. She rose from her chair suddenly. Her quickness startled myself as she called aloud. “Our guests need drinks!”
I heard yet another hidden door open from the left of me, behind the corpses on the wall. My skin crawled as I heard the scream of mortal men. I could peer from the corner of my eye as Dante gave the situation his full attention. Two immortals dragged a young man out from the walls. The mortal kicked and screamed all the way as those who stood about took hold and stripped any shred of garment they could get their hands on. It was more than that. They stripped him of his pride and dignity.
Sadly, his face was not a stranger to our eyes. Dante had seen him on the streets just a few nights ago. He killed a young girl who walked the gutters. She tried to pass him by as he made sexual advances on her. The girl was only thirteen years of age when she hit him across the face. Dante was about to descend from the sky to kill the mortal. But the man pulled a gun and killed her. Ever since, my brother had hunted for this mortal. He wanted his throat, yet the vampires beat him to it. The mortal realized where he was as he saw the bodies of those before him skewed across the wall and the uniforms of his fallen comrades were the tablecloths. He began to plea for his life. I tried to distract myself as his tears began to flow and what remained of his uniform had been stripped from his body.
Janet rose from the table as she held the mortal in place by a fist full of hair. His last words were. “You wouldn’t kill a family man, would you?”
She forced the mortal’s head back as stared him in the eyes. “It didn’t stop you.” She reached under the table and brought out a rusted pipe. The movement was so fast, Janet plunged the pipe into the man’s chest. She shattered ribs and tore through his lung. His scream was worthy of a demon. Never had I heard such a pitch escape the lips of a mortal man. And yet, I couldn’t bring myself to turn away. I wanted to watch him suffer. Janet withdrew the pipe and blew through the clean end of it, forcing out the organ and tissue that was lodged in. She was quick to place it back into the mortal’s chest. The blood began to flow out as Janet led the mortal to her end of the table. Anchored into it’s sides was a hallowed out meat grinder, a forceful shove brought the metal pipe into the grinder’s entrance. I was ill to see blood and chunks of flesh ooze out, until an even flow of blood began. Mugs were placed, under the grinder to catch the drippings. I found my eyes were locked onto the man who struggled under Janet’s grasp.
His hands were the first to lose strength, as they turned pale, his face slowly drained of color as his pleading eyes begged me to help him. I nearly did, until he stopped breathing. His corpse remained on the table as two mugs of blood were placed before us. Janet took hold of hers and drank. “Sorry about the pulp” she announced, Dante took a sip from his glass. I couldn’t bring myself to look at it.
I wanted to be ill from what I witnessed. Janet however finished her drink until she stared into her empty cup. She sat before Dante and I with her feet on the table, without care she nudged the corpse off the table. The body landed with a thud onto the table, before it slowly slipped down onto the oak floor. I wanted to leave, desperately.
Janet turned her attention to the corpse as she savored the last drop. She took her right foot off the table and gave the body a stern kick. “Supreme race my foot!” she announced. She scolded the man as if he were still alive. “If you were superior, you would taste better. You taste like everyone else!” she said as a sneer came over her.
******
Well that is all for now, I hope you enjoy!
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