Aleron: Book One of Strigoi Series (Stringoi Series)

by Kane

  “Where I’ve been is a story I will tell you when the time is better. For now, I must return. Just know that I’ve not forgotten you.”

  And as she reached up to touch me I moved swiftly into the darkness, then into the air. She was left standing alone with only a single word echoing throughout her mind: Impossible.

  I left that night, never to return to al-Montaza. Shani remained a few more days only to witness the passing of our father, who had been overcome with grief. I provided the means shortly thereafter to purchase the home in Shani’s name, though of this she was unaware.

  And though I would never renounce Shani as my former flesh and blood, I had a new family to tend to, one who would be with me indefinitely.

  CHAPTER 24

  trength was measured by many variables when it came to my kind. Vampires often gauge their strength in their ability to live: the ability to remain alive forever and protect themselves from other vampires. A single vampire can dispose of hundreds of humans in a single night. Our innate strength fueled by lust and hunger with an unnaturally acute ability to heal makes us nearly impossible to kill. However, regardless of foe, one mistake can ultimately spell mortality for us.

  Pandora believed my life would come to an end the moment Vlad laid his sights upon me, and she had great reason to deduce that. However, I, too, began to see the future in dreams and through our sensual blood exchanges. This stolen ability gave me a window into her mind and allowed me to better understand what her plan was.

  Her plan was simple: strength in numbers. She desired to grow my coven and thus protect me in the same manner Vlad protected himself and his assets, through the unconditional love and devotion from immortal children, imperishable female children. For even though I existed and was adored by Pandora, she felt and believed in the prohibition against the creation of other males. I, however, didn’t give it much thought.

  Night after night, my dreams spilled into my reality. I dreamed of my parents, my sister, and Vlad. The dreams always began in a subtle manner. Stolen memories would lead, immediately followed by lustful appearances by Pandora or Eliza or both. Mynea sometimes replaced Pandora in the blink of an eye, bringing to conclusion any role Pandora formerly played, followed by Aknon and Camilia. Then I would hear him. I would see his eyes. I would see his mouth, his teeth protruding from his elongated, well-defined jaw. He would be instructing and nurturing various vampires. Some would have familiar faces revealed to me from sharing with Pandora. Some remained unknown and I would only hear their voices, as they passed in a blur.

  In my dreams, Vlad was no beast. Through Pandora’s memories I recall legends of a king, formerly a prince, who conquered many with his vast and relentless army, an army he commanded for centuries through his mortal lieutenants’ hands, lieutenants selected by him and controlled by his family of vampires. I began to hear word of his conquest.

  His growing territory of political influence and power was communicated all over Europe and Northern Africa. Entire countries had bent to his will and cunning persuasion. He had conquered kingdoms in a single siege, both with and without the use of his army, for what his army couldn’t do, his concubines could.

  In the year 1853, Vlad used a small force to slaughter twenty thousand Macedonian rebels. This was prompted by his promise to Macedonian rulers to rid them of the bothersome rebels pushing for civil war. In fulfilling his promise, Vlad would gain a stronghold in the center of four important and desirable countries: Bulgaria, Greece, Albania, and Serbia.

  Shortly thereafter, the conqueror set his ambitions on Italy. And within a few years, his Ottoman army staged a war against the kingdom. He wasn’t successful in this conflict, however. But shortly after the Italian ruler found a new mysterious wife in Tripolitania, he contracted a mysterious illness that resulted in fatal blood loss, an illness that swept throughout the country.

  His new wife was rarely seen during the day and was known for her unyielding beauty and massive dinner parties, from which some guests would not return. This private and sensual victory was carefully orchestrated and relished by Vlad. The resulting headless country easily allowed him to have influence on both sides of the conflict. He even, unbeknownst to the general Italian population, used some of the Italian soldiers for Turkish conflicts. Vlad’s empire had in centuries long past slaughtered hundreds of thousands of Assyrians and Greeks. His influence played a significant role in the near global conflict.

  Vlad seemed unstoppable. Indeed he was, to mortals, in every country and territory he conquered or controlled. I began to see his many castles and villas in my dreams. I also continued to see visions of Mynea as the new mother of us all. In one, she and Vlad stood towering over a large coven of vampires, she by his side. It made my heart ache and my anger boil. I wasn’t angry that she was with Vlad; I now understood the bond that couldn’t be broken. I was angry that she had left me. She lacked the courage that her first fledgling, Sasha, possessed. She didn’t perceive me worthy to bring before her master. She simply left me in the dark, alone. My feelings, innate or learned, were strong for her and riddled with anguish. I knew then she would never truly leave my thoughts, my dreams, or my undead heart. Despite Pandora’s prophesies, I desired Mynea, but I was not interested in initiating a conflict with an invincible foe who was as old as time itself.

  Eliza and Sinaa were becoming a dynamic pair. Sinaa was taught the basics we all were taught as well as the use and control of her own unique skills, most of which had remained dormant. An intimate kiss with Eliza revealed to me an ability well worth noting. Following Sinaa, Eliza came across a band of thieves in Giza, just southwest of Cairo near the Arabian Desert.

  The men, armed with rifles, sat ready inside an abandoned homestead. Eliza began to pillage the men as their guns posed no threat. She moved too fast for their pathetically inaccurate aim. While disposing of the men in a ferocious manner, Sinaa made a costly mistake, which distracted Eliza. Sinaa was shot several times by some of the men. Eliza turned in their direction, and with her latest victim in her left hand, hanging limp and lifeless, she raised the palm of her right in the direction of the four assailants seemingly overpowering Sinaa. Within seconds, gurgled screams fled their mouths as blood began to stream from their ears, mouths, noses, and eyes. They fell to the ground, each gripping their stomachs and chests. Within seconds, they were dead. After bleeding the remainder dry, Eliza turned her attention to the wounded Sinaa, who had made the mistake of drinking from the vein. Eliza opened her wrist and allowed her weakened fledgling to drink. With the infusion of Eliza’s blood, her wounds began to heal and were reduced to mere blemishes within minutes.

  Upon their return, Eliza’s blood told me all. She wanted me to know that she could subdue the internal organs of humans at her will. She was proud of her discovery and even more proud that she could use this ability for the protection of our young coven, my young coven.

  In time, our family grew. Some nights Pandora and Eliza would hold their own “invitation only” dinner parties and invite women from all walks of life, transporting them to our hidden abode. The evening would begin with the arrival of their guests, ushered in from private carriage. This was followed by music created by the fingertips of vampires. The preternatural melodies and rhythm would captivate the guests, who, of course, had never heard harps and violins played in this manner. Food would be served, but my children would only pretend to dine. Those who feasted on the offerings wouldn’t notice my children’s abstinence, dulled as they were by the steady stream of brandy wine poured into their cups.

  As the night progressed, Pandora, Eliza, and Sinaa would have their meals. Only one, if any, was saved for transformation. The rest would suffer a more tragic fate. Some who weren’t chosen for immortality would be bled entirely while the remaining watched in terror, then were burned before dawn. Others not chosen would be kept beneath the ground in catacombs under our el-Sheikh home. Once the chosen completed their transformation, they would dine on the poor souls who remained be
neath us.

  Every once in a while, I would be obliged to visit with the mortals in waiting, some of whom were brought to me by Sinaa. I adored Sinaa for her offerings and her beauty. All of my children were beautiful. In life they were radiant. In death and rebirth, they were exquisite! I was often amused by their games. They were happy to bring a smile to my everlasting stoic face.

  It wouldn’t be long before the disappearances were noticed. Signs were posted for the missing, and there was a growing fear that a serial killer was targeting women in the cities of Cairo, Gizeh, Tanta, El Faiyum, and Alexandria.

  One of my youngest fledglings, Sakina, along with the first of Sinaa’s brood, Raya, were reportedly seen with a few of the missing women. A witch hunt began in Alexandria, where they both lived when they were mortal. Pandora instructed both of them to let themselves be captured. This would end suspicion and return some normalcy to our lives in Cairo. They were also to confess to the slayings from the surrounding cities as well. It wouldn’t take much to convince the lawmakers of their guilt. Pandora simply put some of the remains of the missing women in the basement of one of the homes rented by us in the names of Raya’s mortal husband, who also met a most untimely and gruesome death at the hands of Eliza.

  Raya and Sakina were decapitated in front of hundreds of spectators just as the sun set in Alexandria. In their last moments, they were both dressed in sack-like cotton gowns, hands bound with twine behind their backs, bent over what resembled a large, much-used butcher’s block, with their necks outstretched. Their knees were fastened to the elevated wooden platform that also served as a stage. The executioners wore all black, including a black hood with two eyeholes.

  One of the lawmakers signaled the executioner and, with one mighty chop of the axe, Raya’s head sprang toward the crowd, landing just short of the edge of the platform. Sakina, having witnessed the beheading of her sister, began to turn her neck to the side in an unnatural way, looked out into the crowd, and smirked. In that moment another thud was heard by the menacing crowd, and Sakina’s head settled next to Raya’s.

  The blood spewed onto the closest onlookers as the putrid-smelling reaper reached down and grabbed the decapitated heads by the hair and tossed them into the mob. All the while, the bodies searched for their heads.

  The swarm became fiendish at the sheer sight of the execution, dancing and yelling in perverted amusement. They were mad to revel in such practices, men, women, and children alike. Bloodthirsty fiends! Vampires!

  Pandora and Eliza were there to recover the heads, and they did so with such speed that the heads never touched the ground, seemingly disappearing right before the grasping onlookers eager for a trophy. The bodies were removed by the executioners, who soon were executed themselves just beneath the blood-soaked platform. Pandora and Eliza placed the heads upon the bodies, tore open their own flesh, and allowed some of their own blood to drip onto the necks.

  The brain stem began to reattach itself to the top of the spine. Before long, Raya’s and Sakina’s eyes opened. The four of them disposed of the male bodies and vanished into the night.

  Suspicions rose as the executioners’ families complained of missing fathers and husbands. Plus, the bodies of the evil twins were never found. In time the story became folklore, then legend. Some believed Raya and Sakina were still buried in Egypt. Some have dedicated their lives to telling the story of the sister serial killers. A motion picture was made in their infamy. Mortals love to be entertained by us—and we love to entertain.

  From time to time, I would dream of al-Montaza, my father’s home. In the dreams, I would always find him reading and thinking in his study. He would occasionally look outside his window, searching for any trace of his once-mortal son, a son who he knew was no longer human. In the dream, no matter how close I came to his home and no matter how well he searched, he never saw me. My father knew nothing of my presence, except the lingering feeling when he entered my mother’s room after I had visited. The visions would always depict my mother dying. There was a burning desire within me to give her the gift of life everlasting, but the thought of actually doing this sickened me.

  My mother, a vampire? Camilia, who spent her entire life making disciples of God? A soul whose light shone brightly, even to the angels in heaven, condemned to an immortal afterlife in hell on earth? It would be despicable! And if I had turned my mother, my father would eventually have had to be turned, too. I couldn’t bring myself to condemn my mortal parents to hell. I began to understand Pandora’s words about immortality.

  As we lived, unchanged and uninhibited by time, we died a little each day through the mortals we loved. We watched them grow old and wither. As time passed we loved them from afar, lest they begin to take notice of our seemingly perfect and unchanging features. My father noticed this when he finally saw me.

  Still, thoughts of the death of my mortal mother and father grieved me. My sister and her son remained my only link to the living. I understood why so many drove themselves mad after they received the blood kiss of life everlasting. They weren’t able to handle our timeless existence. And with time, even the strongest of us began to waver. The only way to live was attachment. I was attached to my sister and to Mynea, as well as to my coven. However, Pandora was attached to memories and the days of old. She was changing.

  Pandora began to withdraw. It was easy to pick up on her change since I’d witnessed it before. Then, I said nothing, because I didn’t know what to make of it. Perhaps I chose not to see it, as I had when Mynea decided to leave. This time, however, my intuition was keen. I carefully observed Pandora’s dealings with our young coven, and after seventeen months in my presence, I could easily see the change.

  Aside from purchasing real estate and occasional words of welcome and direction for the young ones, Pandora was seldom to be seen with any of our family. Her visits to my bed on the highest level of our enormous home became fewer and fewer, as those nights were filled with fledglings. She wasn’t jealous, for, as I explained earlier, Pandora no longer had her heart to give. She was preparing to leave.

  One evening I waited for her in the courtyard in front of our estate. She arrived just before sunrise, knowing she would be alone since the coming of the sun sent the young ones in our family into a vampiric slumber. Her thoughts were unknown to me as she took slow steps to and fro. I called out to her.

  “How much longer will you remain with us?” Judging by her immediate alertness, I must have startled her.

  She turned swiftly and saw me sitting atop a massive stone depiction of a beast with a lion’s head and the body of a gargoyle. “The sun’s paralyzing effects on you are subsiding, Aleron. You’ve truly surpassed many who were born before you.” She walked over to me for the embrace I longed for. I knew that she longed for my touch and that she wanted to share a kiss with me, to give me a glimpse of why she was leaving us. I got off the gargoyle and stood next to her. I bit her neck and drank; it was pure ecstasy revisited. I withdrew my fangs and continued with my tongue around the base of her neck. I closed my eyes for a moment, basking in the eroticism. When I opened them, she was gone.

  I turned around swiftly and saw nothing but an empty courtyard, her scent fading in the night breeze. All she left me with was a vivid memory, a vision forced into my mind by her will. I distinctly saw Mynea in the reflection of the abyss, in the reflection of the eyes that haunted me. Pandora wanted me to see this. She wanted me to remember. I looked into the night sky and saw those same eyes within the moon, looking at me. Then as quickly as she had gone, they, too, vanished.

  CHAPTER 25

  y dreams grew dark. I was the reaper of souls, the bringer of death, yet my dreams were even darker, saturated with despair. I traveled pathways to a destiny that was obscure, yet somewhat familiar to me. I saw myself in the eyes of those who were of him. I was invisible and immune to their touch. I ascended to the highest tower of his lair, where only remnants of what was once living remained, enveloped in the unmistakable stench o
f the slow decay of human flesh. I awoke many evenings with the smell still lingering from the dream.

  Besides my dark dreams, an unknown voice had entered my mind, speaking to me whether I was asleep or awake. It spoke to me in riddles and unfamiliar phrases: Whatever in you that is black compares not, for what you seek is a thousand times darker.

  The perfect baritone diction, no doubt from early fourteenth century Eastern Europe. He was speaking Romani Kapachi.

  Long is the way, but the path is not of your knowledge.

  At first I thought it to be Vlad speaking to me. But though it was supernatural, certainly immortal, and absolutely vampiric, I came to realize it wasn’t the voice of Vlad. But how could this be? How could there be another male vampire other than Vlad? Was the call simply part of my imagination compensating me for feeling lonely, loathing the thought of living an eternity without what was rightfully mine yet painfully his? Was I subconsciously cursing my coven for lacking the nourishment I truly desired?

  The sound was internal, and I felt it was driving me mad. Was this the loneliness Pandora spoke of? A feeling of isolation so great that it could bring the strongest of us to the brink of suicide?

  Suddenly it occurred to me that if this voice were of an internal origin, it would naturally sound familiar to me. If not my own voice, it would be the voice of someone in my past, the articulation of my father or uncle or any other male who had managed to influence my life. If not a mortal, then I realized what I was deducing. It couldn’t have been my imagination. It came from elsewhere and forced itself upon my mind for me to consider. I deduced that it originated from the thoughts, lungs, and mouth of an ancient one, whose power was so immense that I would briefly see crimson whenever it spoke to me. I concluded Vlad must also know of him, since he knew of Vlad.