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Aleron: Book One of Strigoi Series (Stringoi Series)

Page 20

by Kane


  Vlad had shielded this ancient one’s existence from all of his children. The ancient one was why Vlad enforced the law that there could never be male children. Sasha’s fledgling male had nothing to do with it. This must have been what Pandora sensed when sharing a kiss with Vlad, knowing he shielded this from her.

  In the beginning, I was there, and so I shall be at the conclusion.

  Who was he? Where did he come from? Who made him? Where is he now? All of these questions rushed into my head the moment my eyes sprung open, all relevant, yet all irrelevant compared to the most glaring query of them all: Why was he speaking to me? I heard it in my dreams, spoken from the mouth of the ancient one. I grew familiar with this tongue.

  Many moons had come and gone since Pandora’s departure. I alone mastered this young yet powerful brood, and though I was essentially alone, Eliza never left my side. The first of my children born to me, she had given birth to all of the others. All of us shared a deep connection of the mind and heart. I could speak to my children through their thoughts, and they could call out to me through distance and necessity. I learned my desires would never be denied by them. They existed for one purpose above all others, to do my will.

  Their devotion to me was overshadowed by one thing and one thing only, the thirst. Raya was especially keen at luring her prey to her. She was able to control the minds of many at once. Sometimes she would control an entire dinner party as a master puppeteer would, pulling the strings, controlling the limbs and thoughts of all those who played their part in her ghastly theatrical performance. Sakina would often provide the climax and denouement to Raya’s plays. The two of them seemed inseparable in death as they were in life. “Twin killers,” Eliza called them.

  Sinaa was an entirely different matter. Upon waking, Sinaa would immediately disappear into the darkness of the alleyways of Thebes. Her victims would never hear her footsteps. She would simply snatch them from life and thrust them into a world of succulent pain. A proficient solitary hunter she was. Eliza was often surprised by the sight of Sinaa when she returned to our home, naked and covered in gore, wearing fleshy souvenirs from her nightly encounter. Her once beautiful hair would drip with her victims’ blood, her hands and feet painted in blush, as was her face, save her yellowish orange eyes. In mortal life, Sinaa had been a teacher of literature. In death, she taught only one thing: suffering.

  Sinaa wouldn’t immediately put her prey out of their misery, so she was often forced to slaughter everyone in sight in an effort to maintain our secret existence. Her brutality left a barbarous impression on anyone unfortunate enough to discover the result of her game. The reports would classify the deaths as a monstrous attack by some unknown animal.

  The locals of Thebes and her surrounding townships were in an uproar, for innocence was lost as my daughter continued to plague them. Whispers of a grizzly beast that attacked at night were on their quivering lips. Fear and paranoia gripped the region, and at sundown, nary a soul could be found. Yes, Sinaa was depraved, indeed.

  One evening I followed her, staying just out of her psychic reach, for without solitude, she wouldn’t hunt. Her movements were graceful, her speed of travel across the lands to Thebes, without detection. As she propelled herself by leap, the leaves on the ground found it hard to determine the rhythm of her steps.

  She came to an abrupt stop just outside of the palace of Luxor, which was enclosed by acres of land where dozens of animals were housed. Four large wooden barns contained stables where the animals slept. One by one she would gorge herself with sheep and goats, sinking her teeth into their throats, suffocating them while draining them. Her mouth, neck, breast, torso, arms, all of her, down to her feet, would be covered in the animals’ blood and hair.

  Horses in the stable became restless, bucking and banging against the stalls’ thick wooden doors and walls. My vampire ears could hear the cracking of the horses’ bones while she relished in them. The clanging of the locks against their hooves woke the estate keeper.

  A light came on from the small house in the back of the estate near the stable. I flew to a nearby tree and watched as the keeper crept over to the stable’s rear entrance with a shotgun in his hand, carefully stepping over bloody carcasses of sheep and goats. The beast he sought was in the stable, and he meant to shoot it and rid the property of the monster.

  He entered the stable and saw what appeared to be the back of a woman bending over a horse, whose back legs were awkwardly and sporadically flinching as it lay on its side at her feet. He heard the sound of ripping flesh and gnawing bone, though he didn’t quite know what to make of it. The keeper took sure, quiet steps toward Sinaa and her meal. She knew he was there.

  “What the hell are you doing?” he yelled.

  The noise grew louder as the other horses tried desperately to flee their stables, some kicking powerfully with their hind legs, others banging against latches with their front legs. Sinaa stood slowly, the legs and neck of the fallen horse twitching with echoes of life it had once possessed.

  The sight of her dripping in blood rapidly evaporated the keeper’s confidence. He nervously raised his gun, fired a shot from the barrel, and a deafening boom trumped the noises made by the horses’ agonizing protests. The buckshot hit its target square on her back.

  Sinaa didn’t flinch. She stood tall. With her back still to the keeper, she did something unexpected; she removed her garment. The gown slid down her shoulders and back, until it gathered around her feet. The buckshot had scattered into her skin, from shoulder to shoulder down her spine to her buttocks, creating a gruesome mess. Sinaa raised her head and stretched her neck and shoulders, rolling them forward. She looked like a blood goddess, covered in a thick, shiny, dark crimson that accentuated every muscle in her back. And after a deep breath, the buckshot began to resurface and fall to the ground. Then the wounds began to rapidly close and heal.

  The keeper’s mouth fell open as his eyes witnessed a scene that his mind refused to accept. Sinaa began to turn toward him, and the groundsman frantically reloaded his shotgun. He fired another shot. This time Sinaa didn’t stick around to feel the annoyance. She moved swiftly, and the buckshot penetrated the dead horse’s hide in several places. Suddenly Sinaa appeared in front of the hired hand’s smoking, ultimately useless weapon. The man stood frozen.

  Looking like a beautiful crazed woman, she grabbed him by the neck and slung him onto a waiting three-pronged garden fork mounted on the wall. The metal tool pierced his skin without challenge, leaving a bloody mess protruding from his chest.

  Before he could comprehend his imminent death, Sinaa was on him again. He stared down at her with open mouth and pleading child eyes. His eyes filled with tears as he witnessed Sinaa wipe the end of the fork, smear the blood over her face, and then tongue her fingers clean. The keeper’s arms jerked in reflex to his brain telling him to act. When Sinaa ripped his right arm off completely, the gun slipped out of his left hand, crashing to the barn floor. After allowing the blood to drip into her mouth, Sinaa tossed the arm toward the dead horse and ripped off the keeper’s other arm. He desperately hoped for death, and finally he was granted his wish. Sinaa tore into his throat and drained what life remained. She offered an ungodly shriek of satisfaction as she surveyed the carnage caused by her own hand. She exited the stable, leaving the spared animals still in their heightened state of agitation, the only witnesses aside from me.

  Once back in the courtyard of our home, I spoke aloud, surprising her. “You’re of grace, but you choose not to use it.”

  She turned and walked toward me, her arms out. For an instant, I remembered her beauty as an immortal angel. I was drawn to her as I was drawn to all of my children. Her naked body was painted in rouge. I took her arms and led her to the stone fountain nestled in the center of the courtyard. She stepped in and began washing her arms and legs. Then she fully submerged herself.

  After a few moments, she reemerged, hair slick and wet, face absent of all traces of her encounter with
the animals and the groundsman. How arousing she was.

  “It’s been too long since I’ve come to you, my lord.”

  I accepted her passionate offering and began to kiss her, but only for a moment. I pulled her lips from mine, and I held her by her shoulders with a force she couldn’t break from.

  “You would jeopardize us all for your uncontrollable thirst. Your sloppy encounters are raising suspicion about the existence of our kind. Pandora forbade you to hunt in this manner. In her absence you’ll remain faithful to her commands, for her commands are mine and the same, and you will do my bidding or suffer my ire in your resistance!”

  “I leave no witnesses, my lord. Stealth remains on my side.”

  “You approach in stealth, yet you leave a trail of destruction and carnage that suggests the work of a monster! How long will it be before someone sees you?”

  Her eyes widened as the moonlight reflected black on her still bloodied teeth.

  “You’re not immune to death. If you continue, you’ll bring death to us all!”

  “Why must I hunt in the manner that pleases you?” Her tone was elevated. “We are killers! The lioness leaves tales of fleshy lust everywhere she feeds.”

  “We are not animals. We are vampire! There exists no other being on this earth that should remain in stealth as we must. Darkness is our life. Exposure is our death. And they will bring that exposure to us.”

  I sensed Eliza was watching us from my room window. I loosened my grip. She seized this opportunity to set herself free. She stepped back and regained herself.

  “You’ll do as I command, Sinaa. I won’t ask twice.”

  Sinaa then stepped toward me and softly kissed me on the side of my mouth, an act of submission. She then turned and walked into our home.

  I felt anger that night, more than I’d felt for a long time. Eliza sensed this anger and waited for me. When I entered, she immediately took me into her arms and sat with me.

  “She’s young, my lord. She knows not what she’s doing. She knows not the price of immortality.”

  “She must change her ways! Too long has she hunted alone, without your watchful eye. Sinaa is a danger to herself and the coven. She’s a wanderer who will not survive in this manner. Before long she’ll bring mortals into our realm and expose our existence.”

  “I will speak with her tomorrow, my lord. She’ll have your grace again. Now, don’t let the antics of a fledgling dissuade our passion. Lie with me. Love me.”

  And so I did.

  Dawn approached, and though my slumber wasn’t necessary for still a few hours, my dreams called my presence to order. I answered.

  Again I was visited by Mynea, Vlad, and the voice of the unknown ancient one. In my earlier encounters with this dialect, I was a child student without a guide. Over time and through a way unknown to me, I began to understand this forgotten language. It was more akin to memory than knowledge.

  The deep, rich voice exclaimed, Eu sint cu voi, tinerii unul. Acolo este mult trebuie sa stii. Mai mult! In timp veti descoperi mine si invata o putere care este cu mult dincolo de orice iti poti imagina. “I’m with you, young one. There’s much to know. Much! In time you’ll discover me and learn a power far beyond any you can imagine.”

  The words “young one” confirmed my belief that the originator of the voice was old, very old. This unknown vampire knew of our master. He knew of me, and thus Mynea and Pandora. In my dreams I could not see his face or his eyes, mouth, or body. I could only feel his hot breath. I could only hear words. The touch of death in him was ancient and forgotten long ago. Perhaps he was banished for being feared! But feared by whom?

  The voice would come and go quickly, and my dream sequence would change instantly. Unlike most humans, we remember every detail of our slumber tales. Our dreams are doorways to ancient shared memories at times. At other times, they serve as windows into what is to come. Only a skilled vampire can arrange the visions in such a way as to reveal their true meaning. The dreams served as a guide to our existence and also often as paths to our destruction. My dreams concluded with visions of Sinaa holding Mynea’s journal. I didn’t know why she had it, nor what purpose it served with her.

  Sinaa was beauty beyond measure; I hadn’t met her equal. She was of average stature for a female of her age. Her beauty had been well known in the town of Tikrit, her slender delicate face accented by eyes of a ripe pear hue. Her brows and lashes were full and thick, nose small and petite, followed by full lips that were truly edible, a neck slightly longer than the average, giving her an innate grace and queenlike profile.

  She was born into luxury, the brat of a politician. Though an often unruly child, she never realized the true power of her beauty, likened to Helen of Troy. She didn’t realize men would go to the ends of the earth just to gaze upon her, and once there, they would murder to be with her intimately. She remained oblivious to the power she possessed over men. Her beauty was what attracted Eliza and Pandora to her doorstep.

  Sinaa was a mere nineteen years old when Eliza granted her immortality. She was watched for weeks, studied even. Pandora approved of Eliza’s choice in her first immortal child. Eliza wanted Sinaa for our family, for she yearned to please her master with her selection. She knew me. She loved me. I was more than delighted to see her first child.

  My next dream revealed more. Sinaa was lost to us. She had wandered into a territory that was unfamiliar to her, unfamiliar even to me, far beyond the boundaries of my coven’s influence.

  She was following the travels of a woman of particular interest to her. Sinaa sought the carriage of her mortal mother, who was searching for her only daughter. Her mother had heard of women missing in the central and southern regions of Romania, that is, Transylvania and the city of Bucharest. Sinaa had tracked her mortal mother into the Carpathian Mountains, a place I’ve only glimpsed in the memories of Pandora, and as a consequence of our intimate kisses, also in my dreams.

  The carriage came to a stop at a poor weather-beaten home deep within the mountains. The horses were in desperate need of water and the mortals in desperate need of sleep. Sinaa watched from afar as her mother entered the home. As the door shut, the clouds in the night sky erupted suddenly into a great storm. Lightning and thunder startled Sinaa. She was more frightened than I’d ever seen one as powerful as she.

  The horses also became frightened, and they struggled violently until they had freed themselves from their leather straps. In every direction they ran, some falling off the narrow path that served as the road they traveled, tumbling hundreds of feet, ricocheting against the jagged rock of the mountainside. Their blood spilled into the darkness as screams began to fill the air.

  Sinaa dropped the journal and swiftly ran toward the home, only to be completely arrested by some unknown and unseen powerful force. Her movements slammed to a halt. Her eyes became a fiery red orange, her hair blowing wildly across her face and into the air.

  The door of the home was thrown outward off its hinges in an explosion. Sinaa’s mortal mother dangled in the shadowy doorway. Something was holding her by her neck from behind, hoisting her bloodied body from the ground. Though barely alive, her arms reached for Sinaa, who was suspended in front of her very eyes. And then, I saw Vlad’s eyes peering from the darkness surrounding the doorframe—the abyss!

  I awoke abruptly from my slumber. I used my mind to scan the house for Sinaa. There was no trace of her heartbeat within my realm, nor her distinguishing scent. I looked frantically for the one translucent window Mynea had left in my possession, her journal. But I could find it nowhere. Eliza was startled by my hasty movements. I ran to Sinaa’s quarters knowing full well they would be empty, and they were.

  CHAPTER 26

  inaa never truly embraced her immortality. She was a vampire with a confused human soul. Thus, she hated herself. She hated our coven. She hated Eliza. She hated me. This madness led her to leave the protection of my territory. Though our home was rich with luxury, she needed more. She ne
eded to return to what was most familiar to her. She wanted to ease the suffering of her mother. She wanted to undo the rumors of the suicide of her father, a result of her abduction and his assumed failure to find her. Into the darkness she went.

  Pandora confirmed the foreshadowing of my dream when she revealed the following to me: Vlad had left Bran at dusk. Mynea was in Budapest securing a bank under Vlad’s current alias, Vittorio Sange Fiara. Pandora assumed charge of Vlad’s affairs in the absence of the king and queen. She hated this charge, but to remain in his grace, she obeyed.

  Vlad had gone to the Carpathian Mountains for a meal, during which time he heard the stampeding of horses in the distance. Carriage wheels whistled, complementing the heavy breathing of the exhausted mares. Vlad could smell the blood coursing through the veins of the woman. The scent called to him, but her thoughts intrigued him even more. The woman was stricken with grief, for her countrymen long ago had abandoned her, leaving her to travel the most treacherous and least-known corner of Europe alone. Under such circumstances, any rational person would have returned home; however, her grief ran deep for a missing daughter, whom she believed to be in Romania.

  Visions of her daughter remained vividly in her mind. One look into these thoughts inspired desire in Vlad for the beauty that was Sinaa.

  He knew they would stop at the home on his land at the apex of the lower region, for everyone who attempted passage did.

  The keeper was a partially blind old man, hired long ago by Natasha to mind the house. Perhaps she felt pity for him, for the abnormal twist within his spine and oversized forehead caused him to be shunned by the villagers from the town he came from. Forced to live as an outcast no more, here he could remain in solitude, save the passing of a wanderer every now and then.

 

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