It was the wife of Henry Fellows that released the blood-curdling scream that let the town know they were found, and that they were not found alive. Women guided their children back in houses, while others helped their newly widowed friends to chairs The reverend planned funeral services for all five of the men, and for his niece, Hannah.
The men gathered at the home of Richard and Elizabeth Smythe's house. After sending their little girl, Lisbeth to bed, they began their meeting to discuss the deaths. They talked, whispered, yelled, paced, and slammed fists on the heavy oak table. Everyone had ideas, excuses, and theories, but no one wanted to admit that they brought the deaths amongst themselves. Richard bid the group farewell, knowing that there was no resolution, and prepared himself to stumble upon more death.
He was right. Sangio made his way to town to face each thieving murderer, one by one. His first was John Anderson, the man whose boot kicked his father’s office door in, and aimed a gun at his father’s face, pulling the trigger with no hesitation, and no remorse.
He stood in John’s barn, creating a commotion with the livestock in hopes of drawing John out. It took less than ten minutes before John came barreling in, holding a lantern in one hand, and the gun that killed his father in the other.
Sangio swiftly picked the gun from his fingers with little effort. John pulled his hand back as if it were licked by a flame.
“It’s not possible,” he stammered.
“Isn’t it?” Sangio questioned.
“What do you want?” John asked, backing himself towards the open door.
“You people and your wasted efforts,” Sangio laughed as he latched the barn doors as John turned to run.
“Sangio, I’m sorry! I didn’t know what to do. Hannah came to town crying, screaming that you were possessed,” he cried out as he dropped to his knees.
“Then your issue should have been with me!” Sangio sneered as he kicked John all the way to the ground. “You didn’t even give my father a chance. You were his oldest friend.”
“Please, I was scared.”
“Scared? I don’t recall a gun being fired in your face. I don’t recall you waking up in a barn next to your murdered family. Exactly what was it that you feared?”
“You. I was afraid of what you were . . .what you could do to the town, the people, my family,” John yelled out in terror.
“Me? I was no threat to you John. I am no threat to your family or the innocent people of this town. I am, however, a threat to the murderers and thieves,” Sangio informed him as John followed his glance to his father’s stallion.
“He would have died, Sangio, if I left him there,” John said.
“Like my father died? Do you put more value on his stallion than you do my father’s life?” Sangio yelled. “Get to your feet. Meet your fate as a man, not as a mounted boy.”
“Please, Sangio! I have a family!” John begged.
“And you took mine!” Sangio barked as he lifted John into the air, and drained his seventh victim. Sangio opened the stall, took his father’s stallion, and headed to his next destination.
Curtis Brock’s family worked at the Danvonne Estate for generations and generations, and they were paid generously. Thaddeus trusted him with every aspect of running the winery, and his wife managed the house and all of it’s staff. The Danvonne’s once slept easier knowing the Brock family was at their service. Curtis’ grandmother, Amelia Brock helped the family survive when Thaddeus lost his wife, and Drake and Sangio lost their mother. Curtis’ grandfather, Eugene Brock kept the business running with efficiency until Thaddeus was ready to resume the responsibilities.
“I knew you would come for me,” Curtis said in a quiet, distressed tone.
"I was not attempting to hide that fact."
"After Josh and Daniel... they went to your place... I knew, you know, when they didn't come back... I told myself... I knew you wanted revenge... Your father, he was..." Curtis realized he was rambling and stopped talking for a minute. He straightened his posture and looked into Sangio's eyes. "There are no excuses, Sangio. Your family was good to me, my parents, and grandparents. I have nothing to say that can provide justice or comfort.”
By now, Sangio already realized there was nothing any of them could say to make the situation make any sense. He had no desire to listen to quivering men and their lying excuses anyhow.
“Where is my wine?” Sangio asked.
“In my cellar,” Curtis said mournfully. “But please don’t hurt my wife, or my baby girl, Anna. Please take mercy on them.”
“I do not take innocent lives,” Sangio assured him and ended his life quickly.
Sangio tore the doors to the cellar off their hinges and walked down the steps into the dark, cool basement. He could hear the shuffling of feet on the floor above him, but paid no attention as he looked around for the wine that belonged to his family.
The door leading from the house opened, and light splashed down the stairs from a lantern.
“Curtis?” his wife’s shaky voice called down in the loudest whisper she could summon. “Curtis, is that you?”
“No. Curtis is gone,” Sangio answered as he heard Mrs. Brock suck in a startled breath. “And I am retrieving what was stolen from me. Go back to your child, Mrs. Brock. Anna will need you to be strong.”
The door closed slowly, taking with it the light. Sangio found his wine, and carried it back to the stallion, content with his work for the night.
Chapter 33
"I paced the floor of my bedroom, planning my kills for the next evening," Sangio explained to Jessie. “The faces of the men haunting me with hate in their eyes, standing in my father’s office, and laughing as the barn burned to the ground. I could do nothing but breathe revenge. Then I heard someone pounding the knocker on our door. I didn’t go near it though. I was so angry. I knew if there were a woman or child there I would kill them with no hesitation, and though I was a monster, I couldn’t go there. So, I ignored it. It stopped after several minutes. Then I heard him calling my name. I looked out the window, careful to stay out of the sun’s rays, and saw the caller. It was a man I knew from town, Richard Smythe. He stood there, alone. I laughed at first, at the stupidity of this man. Delivering himself to his death. Calling to me over and over, saying he wanted to make amends.”
“What could he possibly do to amend what they did?” Jessie snapped.
“I thought the same thing Jessie. He sat on the stairs, and I remember thinking that he should enjoy the sunset as it would be his last. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a week. I knew how that felt, since I had been unable to sleep at all.” Sangio shook his head recalling his attempts.
“I drank wine by the gallons, scotch by the vats, tea by the pots. I longed for sleep, Jessie, but it wasn’t because I was tired. When my mother died I dreamt of her. It was so vivid. She was so healthy. I could smell her perfume, feel her warmth, and hear her laughter. I wanted to dream of them, to see Father and Drake one more time, to feel a slap on the shoulder from father, and a smack on the back of the head from Drake,” Sangio laughed, walking around toying with books on the shelves.
“Can you now? Sleep?”
“Not a wink.” He shook his head sadly.
“So, did you kill Richard?”
“Richard Smythe was a brave man. He sat on the steps for over an hour, then jumped up and headed straight for the barn, or more appropriately, he headed for the pile of ash. I watched in horror as he began sifting through the ash and rubble until he lifted a bone into the air. One after another, he found the bones of my father and brother.
“I burned with fury, Jessica. I wanted to kill him with my bare hands, not even caring about the blood I needed as nourishment. I wanted to kill him for touching their remains, but could not step into the light.”
Jessie came up behind Sangio and placed her hand on his back. Instead of stiffening as he usually does when a human comes too close to him, he relaxed.
“Richard found a tarp near
the cellar, and began laying the bones out in perfect order, recreating the skeletons of my father and brother. I watched him cry as he touched the bones, chipped from bullets, and charred from ash. He went to the shed, and using our wood, nails, and whatever tools were not stolen, he built coffins for my family, and laid them gently inside before nailing the lids on. He picked up the coffins on each shoulder and started walking away.
“I panicked, not knowing where he was taking them. I ran upstairs to the attic, covered in my comforter to shield me from the sun, and found him. He was taking them to our family plot on the west side of the estate, where my ancestors are buried. On either side of my mother’s grave, he dug a hole about six feet deep, placed the coffins in, and covered them with dirt.
“He worked for hours, not even stopping for a sip of water. He worked with the stamina of a dozen men, and when I thought he was done, he walked back to the shed and used the leftover wood to make crosses to use as markers. He engraved Thaddeus and Drake across the arms of each cross and secured them into the heads of the graves. Then he sat, again on the steps, not even moving for shelter when the rain fell.”
“Jesus!” Jessie whispered. “But was that enough?”
“That’s when I realized my hatred was not only for the men in the town. I was responsible for Father and Drake’s deaths, above all,” Sangio admitted as he walked away from Jessie.
“Because you trusted her?” Jessie asked, referring to Hannah.
"No, though that was a part of it.” Sangio shook his head. “My real mistake was not trusting Drake. Not listening to him when he was telling me how ridiculous my plan was, and that it would get us all killed. But I had one thing on my mind, and that was blood.”
"It was survival,” Jessie corrected. “Sangio, you were suffering, starving, and weak! You were in shock. You weren’t in your right mind. You must realize that?”
“It goes beyond that. I should have run. Or made my father and brother run. We could have left, the three of us, together. But we sat there, like fools, thinking we could convince this hoard of fearful townsmen that everything was ok, when we didn’t even know everything was okay ourselves. All we knew was that I was a vampire, we kidnapped the town nurse, and we imprisoned a second vampire in our barn.”
“But you knew your heart, Sangio. You knew your soul was good. It’s no one’s fault that those men didn’t stop to ask questions, to try to figure out what was going on, or help you for God’s sake. They had no right to do what they did, regardless of what happened to you. We live in a civilized world, even then.”
“Still, I should have listened to Drake,” Sangio reminded her.
“Who is to say what would have happened next would have been any different? Say your dad went to his friend, what’s his name?” Jessie asked.
“John?” Sangio assumed that was whom she was talking about.
“Yes, John, or even Curtis, for that matter. They would have come for you, Sangio, and your father and Drake would have tried to protect you,” she pointed out. “Or your hunger could have gotten so bad you could have turned on them and really been responsible for their deaths.”
“Still, I could have left. Why didn’t he let me leave? Why wouldn’t he go with me?” Sangio asked, more to his absent father than anyone else.
“Think about it. I don’t know your father Sangio, but I can imagine that if you left, your father would spend every day worrying about you, wondering what happened, whether you were alive, or well, or suffering,” she corrected. “And he also sounds like he was a proud man. This was his home. It had so much history for him, and it’s where your mother is buried. He was in his sixties? He knew nothing besides this land. There was nowhere else he wanted to be. He sacrificed himself, just as a captain goes down with his ship.”
“That’s supposed to make me feel better?” Sangio snapped at her. “You’re saying my father and brother killed themselves because they were proud?”
“No, I’m saying they didn’t run because this was home, and there would be no life for them on the run. And I’m saying they were just as good as dead if they had to mourn you for the second time. Or to mourn what would become of their estate. I’m not saying it was for the best Sangio. I’m saying they had choices. You would have listened if your father put his foot down and said not to let Hannah go. You know that. He knew that. But in the end, he knew that keeping her here to protect you was not fair. Regardless of what Hannah’s intentions were, he knew it wasn’t his right to keep her, and he was prepared to accept the consequences.”
Sangio speed from the room, knocking piles of books over and splintering the door from his force on the way out.
Jessie stood for several minutes, wondering if she crossed a line, or several. She knelt down, attempting to restack the books. Feeling the weight of all the information she received, the deaths at Sangio’s hands, she picked up several books, throwing them across the room, hitting chairs, paintings, and shelves.
Chapter 34
Jessie found Sangio sitting on the ground, in the middle of what she could only assume was the family graveyard. Solid marble headstones rose from the graves, where there used to be wooden, makeshift markers.
“I had them replaced several years ago,” Sangio said quietly. "It's the first time I've actually saw them in person."
“They’re beautiful!” Jessie exclaimed. “May I sit?”
Sangio nodded his head, patting to the bench next to him.
“I’m sorry I left like that. I hope I didn’t scare you,” Sangio said, never looking away from his father’s headstone.
“Please don’t apologize. I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know your father enough to speak for him.”
“You spoke perfectly. It was as if my father gave you the words I needed to hear.”
“Then why did you leave?"
“Even in the midst of a horrible fate, my father used his head, he did the right thing. What did I do? I undid his entire honor by wreaking havoc on the town he loved. I killed the woman he set free, and killed the men who did what my father would have done if he found out there was a vampire living in town. He would have done what needed to be done to protect the town from a bloodsucking vampire like me,” Sangio resigned.
“Are you kidding me? From what you’ve told me about your father I don’t believe he would have shot first. I believe your father would have went to the house of the family in question and checked out the situation, first of all. Second of all, if your father truly believed a death warrant was in order--”
“He wouldn’t have celebrated,” Sangio finished for her. “He wouldn’t have celebrated, he wouldn’t have danced around their burning property, and he sure the hell wouldn’t have robbed them.”
“Right! And what do you think your brother would have done if he were the one left alive?” Jessie encouraged him.
“He would have burned the entire town down,” Sangio admitted.
“Right,” Jessie agreed. “So, it’s easy to get stuck in the gloom of the situation, and to put blame on yourself, but we’re talking about some extreme and unusual circumstances. It’s not fair to judge yourself for how you responded. Who in their right mind would respond perfectly to being murdered, turned into a vampire, and having someone you love betray you, leaving your entire family dead?”
“You make a lot of sense Jessica. I just miss them so much. Even a century later, I ache for them,” Sangio admitted. “But you have given me a new perspective.”
“Good!” Jessie exclaimed. “Now can we get back to the house? My wine glass is lonely!”
Sangio laughed as they headed back to the house. “Smart and funny, all wrapped up in a beautiful package.”
“What other way is there?” Jessie jabbed at Sangio.
“Oh, apparently there is vanity as well,” Sangio jabbed back.
Back at the house, Jessie slipped into her nightgown from the night before, washed the makeup off her face, and called Sangio into her room.
“
Is there a problem?” he asked.
“Well, an empty wine glass, to start,” she said, shaking her glass back and forth with a forced frown.
“And?”
“And I believe you never told me the fate of poor Mr. Smythe,” Jessie reminded him.
Jessie climbed under the covers, and was propped up on the pillows when Sangio came back in the room with another bottle of wine and two clean glasses. He sat opposite of her on the bed and finished his story.
Chapter 35
Sangio sat on the floor of his attic for an extended period of time, wallowing in self-pity. When the pangs of thirst hit him, he realized the sun had already set, and he had no idea what time it was. He rushed downstairs and into the foyer, running straight into Richard, who was carrying a bucket of warm soapy water. Both men jumped back, though Sangio’s jump was in surprise while Richard's was in horror of the sight that stood before him.
“Sangio!” He gasped.
“I seem to be getting a lot of that lately,” Sangio said dryly. “What are you doing in my house?”
“Sangio, I’ve come to beg your forgiveness for my part in this senseless tragedy. I’ve come to do whatever I can to show you that I am truly remorseful. I am not naive enough to think I can make it right, but I am willing to be forever in your debt to show you that I was not myself that evening, and realize the grave mistake I made,” Richard begged.
“Let me ask you this,” Sangio inquired. “Are you begging for forgiveness because you are truly sorry, or is it because you do not want to meet the same fate as John, Curtis, and the thieves who let themselves into my home?”
“Obviously, I don’t wish to die, Sangio. So, yes, I admit there is a selfish point to my apology. But truth be told, I am here on behalf of my wife, my mother, and my little girl. They don’t need to suffer because of my sins. My death would kill my mother, and deliver my wife to a lifetime of poverty trying to raise my daughter, Lisbeth, as a widow. I can’t imagine what would become of them. Death would be the easy way out for me, and leave them to a lifetime of picking up the pieces of my mistakes,” Richard admitted.
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