My Familiar Stranger

by Victoria Danann

  Elora gasped. “You’ve been using a taser on my dog?” Before the three men could form their next thought, Elora had sprung for the man, seized the taser, and zapped him with it three times. The poor devil was then writhing on the floor with Elora standing over him asking how he liked it. All three brave knights got an instant and unwelcome image of being the guy on the ground as Elora shot electrical currents through their systems. It was a side of the woman none of them wanted to engage. She was preparing to administer a fourth charge when Storm deftly took the taser out of her hand.

  Kay called security and told them to take this guy and hold him until they had a chance to sort out what was going on. They checked with the personnel office and confirmed that one of his duties was taking care of the mascot. Further inquiry revealed that there was no real guideline as to how that was to be accomplished and no supervision whatsoever.

  The job description talked about feeding, watering, kennel cleanliness, but did not strictly prohibit cruelty. They had to concede that, technically, the man had not done anything wrong. Sol agreed to transfer him to another facility making certain there was a gag order in place regarding his experiences at Jefferson Unit and that any violation of that would see him and his family sent to the Siberian Unit.

  Elora took over Blackie’s care and feeding and was able to expand his freedoms daily. An entire hallway of sublevel two was closed off the first time she let him off leash. She brought a tennis ball for him to chase up and down and she shared the joy he experienced from being out of kennel and off leash.

  They decided Blackie’s debut to society would be the night that Storm, Kay, and Ram were accepting post humus ceremonial decoration for Lan. The three members of B Team could not have looked more handsome in their black sileather pants, long sleeve, black knit shirts, and Black Watch sashes. As a precaution, Ram deposited the tranq pistol under the bench where he would be sitting earlier in the day, but didn’t think he would need it. They left a place for Elora to sit next to them at one end of the lower benches.

  Everyone was assembled in the Chamber and the doors were about to close when Elora walked in. They had arranged for media to make an announcement.

  “We are proud to present Blackie, the Jefferson Unit mascot, in his first public appearance accompanied by his handler, Elora Laiken.”

  Elora wore a sleeveless, black dress that fit her body through the hips, then flared, swishing around her shins on top of her boots and a wide red belt. That vision coupled with the sight of a huge, formerly ferocious, black Alsatian wearing a Black Watch kerchief drew a collective gasp from the crowd. When Blackie was first led into the room, he drew back at the sight of so many people gathered in one place and looked at Elora uncertainly, but he was quickly reassured by the sound of her voice and resumed his natural, easy gait.

  Two members of B Team felt their hearts swell with pride. She exchanged a smile with Ram as she and Blackie sat down.

  Throughout the proceeding the dog remained alert but calm; a perfect example of good Alsatian breeding. Afterward, many people came by to speak to the remaining members of B Team. It was understood that it would be in the worst of taste to congratulate these men on medals received in an incident that cost the life of their friend. So they simply said hello and shook hands.

  Some of them were brave enough to venture close to Elora. When she saw signs of acceptance from Blackie, she would encourage them to reach out slowly, allow him to sniff their hand and then pet him.

  Gradually Blackie took celebrity, the crowd and all the activity in stride. This was the final test that earned him the status of roommate. That night Blackie moved in with Elora. Soon she had enough trust in his behavior to let him spend time off leash on the rugby field, fetching tennis balls and playing chase.

  One such afternoon, as they were returning from a romp, Elora and Blackie found the hub cleared except for six knights escorting a man in chains crisscrossed on top of his leather duster and attached to shackles around his wrists and ankles. He had shoulder length brown hair, eyes the transparent color of icy mountain water, a model’s cheek bones and the barest suggestion of a cleft in his chin. He stared at Elora as he was led past, his mouth turning up in an amused smile.

  Elora might have called him handsome under other circumstances, but she had no time to think about such things. She was occupied restraining one-hundred-twenty pounds of Alsatian male fury. Blackie had a serious problem with the man in chains. She hadn’t heard ferocity like that since the first day she’d seen him. Right then the only thing between his beautiful, white fangs and the chained man’s throat was a braided leather leash. And it was a good thing Elora happened to be unusually strong.

  She pushed the elevator button behind her and “persuaded” Blackie to back into the elevator. As soon as the doors closed establishing a solid barrier, the dog went instantly quiet and docile, looking at her as if to say, “What’s next?” and wagging his tail. The person who originally conceived the expression “out of sight, out of mind” must have been a dog trainer.

  That night she had dinner with B Team and told them what had happened. The three exchanged looks as if they were trying to decide what they would and would not reveal. It seemed they came to a silent consensus that there was no reason not to divulge what they knew.

  The chained man was not a man, but a vampire; a very, very old vampire named Istvan Baka. He had been captured decades ago under circumstances that some believe amounted to turning himself in. He was held prisoner with privileges by The Order at a facility in the Carpathian Mountains in exchange for consulting on matters of vampire. Kay said he had heard that, when Baka was transported, he was prepared by being deprived of sustenance until they were positive that he was weak enough to be controlled by knights, should it become necessary.

  B Team agreed that, since the dog had not reacted badly to anyone since his tormentor had been transferred, they could conclude two things: that Blackie knew a vampire when he saw one and that he didn’t like them at all.

  ***

  CHAPTER 11

  BLACK SWAN FIELD TRAINING MANUAL Chapter 8, #23

  Operatives must be inoculated against contraction of the vampire virus and receive a booster once every two years. The inoculation is one hundred percent effective (to date), but, because of the extremely high cost and limited ingredients, it will not be made available to the general public even should the general public become aware of the presence of vampire among us.

  Istvan Baka was born in the eastern Carpathian Mountains of Romania in 1453 and lived there throughout his life as a human. It was not a life without substance. At the time he was infected with the vampire virus he was working for the monks of Cozio, painting murals of the history of the monastery and various other religious themes. He was proud of the fact that the few paintings on canvas are owned by the Romanian Cultural Heritage Foundation and considered national treasures.

  When Istvan Baka was infected, he was practically elderly for medieval times. At thirty-six he had seen his share of death and sorrow, had lost two wives and five children. Such things were expected and accepted as part of life then.

  The monks had paid him a meager wage and given him an education in science and mathematics because they liked him and it amused them to do so. One day in midwinter he was caught up in what he was doing and lit more candles as the room grew darker. When he stopped for the night, it was dark outside. He left to make his way home, but never arrived.

  Istvan had pulled his coat around him. The night was still, but very cold. There was a waning moon, half bright, but it was almost impossible to see the path through the forest without a lamp. He had to go slowly or risk a misstep. He was thinking about the warmth in his cottage where his third wife would have something, perhaps lamb stew, warming on the hearth. His thoughts were thus occupied when he heard a rustle and a whimper in the woods.

  After a few more steps, he decided it was an overactive imagination replaying tales of horror from childhood. The f
irst indication otherwise was a woman’s scream. He ran in the direction of the sound, but was brought to an abrupt halt by a deep gash sliced open in his neck.

  He was left alone on the cold mountain to freeze to death or bleed out, but he did neither. When the sun rose the next morning his body had not died, but his humanity had. His brain had regained control of a body too weak from loss of blood to respond. With great effort and exertion of will, he slowly dragged himself to a crevice behind a rock and covered himself with branches. There he stayed for a time. Days perhaps. He did not grow stronger, but his weakness was overcome by a thirst he had not experienced before.

  Baka’s wife, having been told that Istvan had left the monastery three days before, was beside herself with worry and searching the mountain between the monastery and the cottage, looking for some sign of what had become of him. There were rumors that he was attacked by a wild animal, a wolf perhaps. So she looked for signs of blood or torn clothing or worse.

  Distraught as she was, she had not noticed the sun was low in the sky. Being caught in winter after dark on a Romanian mountainside was dangerous by any standard as the temperature plummets when the sun sets. It was the pink moment called gloaming, when twilight turns to night, when the unfortunate woman walked close to where Istvan Baka was hiding. It was then he knew what his body craved and he was taken over by instinct.

  When Baka’s third wife drew near his hiding place, he marshaled his remaining strength and grabbed her ankle. She was frozen by surprise for an instant which is all it took to jerk her to the ground and sink his new fangs into the neck of a woman whom he had married, if not loved. She was instantly paralyzed, as Baka had been, but, unlike Baka, she was drained of every drop of blood until she was past pain and past the concerns of this life.

  Baka felt no regret. He felt only that he was stronger than at any time in memory. The body was carried to a deep gorge nearby and thrown over. By the time it was found, if ever, people would assume she died from a fall. And so began Istvan Baka’s new life as a vampire.

  He traveled west, often spending his days hiding in wine cellars. If an unfortunate victim happened upon him, he simply indulged in a daytime meal.

  He was not in any particular hurry. It probably took a hundred years to reach France. By chance he discovered that, like most vampire, he could hypnotize humans effortlessly, and that they could be useful in the performance of certain daytime functions, as guards, or suppliers of food, luring unsuspecting women with promises of work or pay for service. Baka had acquired money by selectively targeting victims who appeared well off and relieving them of their purses as well as their life’s blood. Bodies were always left with the appearance of having been rent by wild animals so that no one would suspect anything as fantastic as vampire. In France he developed a taste for lavish living, a taste he prefers even now, and he remained in the area for several centuries.

  In 1925 Istvan Baka had an entranced servant arrange for his transportation to New York by merchant vessel in a cabin without porthole. He was bored with Europe and eager to experience something different. The subway system, begun twenty years earlier, was intriguing for several reasons. When he arrived, it was being rapidly expanded. He was able to create his own maze of tunneled refuges using a system of abandoned shafts.

  By the time the stock market crash heralded The Great Depression three years later, his labyrinth was in place, complete with secret entrances and exits, cleverly disguised. He had even wired the tunnels for electric lights, tapped into the Pearl Street Power Station and redistributed the signature so that the source of drain wouldn’t be traced. As time went on and equipment became more sophisticated, he made sure he always had the loyalty of a CON ED employee in a position to oversee billing discrepancies.

  New York provided him with an endless supply of runaways, aspiring actresses, and evicted poor. Yes. Istvan Baka had turned the city into a vampire playground and paradise. It was only a matter of time before other vampire came begging him to share his cozy set up. He accepted pledges of fealty and turned lesser vamps into minions. He never had to hunt unless he felt like it. He never had to worry about being hunted. He was king of vampire - at least in New York. But, after a time, that, too, began to lose its appeal.

  The centuries had started blur, one into another, in an endless stream of monotony. Suck. Kill. Suck. Kill. Suck. Fuck. Kill. He could howl from the tedium of it all, but what would be the point? He had insulated himself so perfectly no one would hear.

  His conscience, the essence of humanity, and the memories from his brief life as human, were not restored gradually, but suddenly, without warning. That restoration created a state of wretchedness without equal because he also retained the memory of his life as a vampire. Even though he had not been in control of his behavior as a vampire, the guilt was staggering.

  Determined to make amends, he quietly and quickly went about killing vampire who were using the tunnel system he created. It was ridiculously easy since they never would have expected death to be wearing Istvan Baka’s face.

  He then sealed the entrances to the tunnels and turned himself in to The Order, volunteering to assist as a consultant or informant or in whatever other capacity would be useful. Now, having endured the passing of another century, that had become tiresome as well and he began to dream about death.

  Then, one day, his atrophied interest was engaged as he passed through the central lobby of the New England unit of Black Swan. There, controlling a large and vicious black dog, was a provocateur; a female Swan; strong, beautiful, graceful, and very likely every bit as ruthless as the knights. What could be more intriguing?

  Upon return to the tower keep cell where he was held in an ancient castle fortress in the Carpathian Mountains, Istvan Baka contacted Sovereign Sol Nememiah to say that he had considered the offer. He would agree to spy for The Order and assist in bringing an end to the current infestation in New York in exchange for a private, unbound audience with the Lady Swan.

  At first, Sol didn’t understand the reference, but quickly put together that he was referring to their resident alien pilgrim, Elora Laiken. He learned that Baka had seen Elora in passing and that he was, apparently, under the misimpression that she was a knight.

  A meeting was called to take place in the conference room adjacent to Sol’s office for B Team and Elora. They had no idea what it was about. It had already been decided that Ghost would take Lan’s place in ten days when Ram was cleared from the D.L. Plus, it was curious that Elora was included. When everyone reported to the conference room except Elora, they called her phone, but didn’t get an answer.

  “Probably on the rugby field with her hellhound,” Kay said. Sol sent one of the older trainees who worked as an assistant to find her suggesting he start at the rugby field per Kay’s comment.

  “So what’s this about?” Storm asked.

  “We’ll wait until Ms. Laiken is present.”

  Storm, Kay, and Ram exchanged looks then decided to use the time to avail themselves of the coffee service and cookies that had been set up at one end of the conference room.

  Ten minutes later Elora came in with Blackie. Her cheeks were even pinker than usual from playing with the dog in the cool Autumn air. Ram thought she looked irresistibly kissable and pictured himself rubbing his cheek against the tip of her cold nose to warm it up.

  She closed the door and unsnapped Blackie’s leash. The dog went straight to Ram and rested his big head on Ram’s thigh. Elora sat down in the empty chair next to Ram, took a half eaten cookie out of his hand and gobbled it down without pretense of courtesy. He smiled openly, loving the easy familiarity of an unapologetic theft. When she took a sip of his coffee and scrunched up her face, he laughed, “Serves you right. Get your own.”

  “Shall we get down to business children?” Foregoing social pleasantries, which were not Sol’s forte anyway, he relayed Baka’s proposal while Elora made herself a cup of sugar and cream with a touch of coffee.

  Storm and
Ram answered in unison with an emphatic, “No!”

  As she was reseating herself, Elora gave Sol a level look while stirring her cup. “I’m in.”

  Ram gaped. Storm fumed. Elora ignored them both.

  She took a sip and then continued, “Any ideas why he would make his agreement conditional on talking to me?”

  “I didn’t ask. Anything more would be pure speculation,” Sol replied.

  “Elora,” Ram looked flustered, “please believe me. ‘Tis one thing to read about vampire in trainin’ manuals and somethin’ quite different to come face to face with one. And, while we’re on the subject,” he turned on Sol, “you can no’ truly be thinkin’ to turn that monster loose in New York?”

  Sol stood at ease with arms crossed over his chest and answered slowly. “Seen the news lately? The numbers of missing women have become alarming and we’re not getting anywhere. We’ve reached a point where the potential benefit outweighs the risk.”

  Ram threw his hands up in a gesture of frustration and immediately regretted it, reaching for his rib.

  Kay said, “What does he mean by private, unbound audience?”

  “It would be more accurate to say semi-private. There’s a very large mirror in his room that is observation glass on the other side. You’ll be able to hear and see everything that transpires.”

  “You’ll?” Storm said.

  “I think we would all feel more secure if the three of you accompany her.”

  Elora laughed softly. “Well, we must be certain you all feel more secure.” She looked at Sol in open challenge. “I have a condition.” The four men looked at her. “When we return, I want to be accorded the same freedoms as anyone else. I want to be able to go shopping or to performances of the arts or take classes or whatever. In the future, whether or not I’m ‘accompanied’ should be my decision.”