Vlad Tepes, the Vigilante Vampire

by Lillie J. Roberts

  “Your secret is safe with me. I owe you more than my life.” I greeted his words with solemness.

  “There is a weed, Valerian. It incapacitates the vampire and brings madness to the mind. My master used it to torture his enemies. I managed to steal enough to poison the blood cows he kept on hand.”

  “Blood cows?” I asked.

  “The blood slaves he kept for himself.” Vanic's face showed his disgust. “The human cattle to feed his needs.” He steepled his fingers over his patrician nose. “It has no ill effects on humans, odorless and tasteless, but if ingested by the vampire, it takes away reasoning and weakens the body. It's a cruel torment to the vampire's logical mind, Valerian leaves only doubt.”

  He shook his head. “Loupgarin was killing us. Everyday fewer were left. Those who were, slipped away while he suffered the poison's effects. Valerian is a cruel master too.” He grimaced. “Loupgarin promised to rip out my heart should our paths cross again. I've taken him at this word. His sanity was questionable then, the Valerian took away more but it was my only chance.” He thought for a moment. “Our only chance, for my brothers and sisters too.”

  “Why would he kill his younglings, milord? Wouldn't it weaken him more?” I wondered out loud.

  “We'd failed him. There was a battle between our clan and that of his greatest rival, Rafael. He did not take defeat well.” Vanic's eyes closed as he relived a few moments of the horrors in his life. “He swore vengeance for our carelessness, swearing to enslave younger, stronger, better children than us. The thought itself terrified me.”

  My life had been hard before the vampire found me, but at least I had known my mother's love. Vanic spent years in the service of his master, being a blood slave and worse. For that, I did not envy him. My eyes must have shown my fear, because in the next breath, he reassured me.

  “Not to worry, Vlad, he is the past, not the future.” He clapped my shoulder. “Come, let us live. We have much to see and experience.”

  *****

  With the help of Vanic's vampire blood, my aging slowed. In fifty years, my body was strong, supple, my face filled with youth, carefree. By the time I reached manhood, I was strong, and had been taught by the best minds in Europe. It was hard to believe I was a one-time child of the Black Death, rarely thinking of the time prior to my journeys with Vanic. He was prosperous. I wanted little and lived life to the fullest. It was at this time the unthinkable happened.

  By appearances, I was twenty-five, urbane, and seemingly impervious to the diseases of man. Consumption of vampire blood early in my life seemed to affect not only my aging but my natural immunity as well. Fearing little, I took unnecessary risks, boisterously full of myself, not realizing my mistake. I thought myself as immune from death as I was from disease. My adopted father indulged me, letting his only son partake in everything life offered. He tried to protect me from myself, but he was doomed for failure.

  Summer evenings were my favorite, I found the warm nights bewitching as I roamed through the noisy streets of Paris, London, Rome, or wherever Vanic's travels took us. On one such summer night, I wandered into a local brothel, and for three days and nights it claimed my attention. First with the lovely Juliet, the next in the arms of the farmer's daughter Emiline, but the third was the most wondrous yet. I made my way around the room to find a particularly beautiful courtesan with beguiling sapphire eyes.

  Giselle. She captivated more than my senses. Her lavender scent wreaked havoc with my body, my manhood twitched to life, my trousers just able to contain its hardness. Her pink lace gown tested in its ability to conceal her trembling breasts.

  “Mademoiselle.” I bowed over her hand, my lips brushed her quivering flesh. “I would be most honored to have the pleasure of your company.” My stare locked onto hers.

  Her blue-vein eyelids fluttered, and she dipped her head, whispering, “Your love making is legend, Monsieur.” Her own eyes found those of Juliet's and the two shared a secret smile. “It would be my pleasure.” She placed her hand on my arm, nodding to the mistress as we made our way to the stairs.

  Once inside her room, my hands moved over her body bringing exquisite pleasure, her pink gown now puddled on the floor. Her corset fell open to reveal soft mounds. My lips begged to take her sweet peaks between them, turning them to a ruddy red. A groan of delight broke from her lips as her fingers found the buttons of my breeches.

  My cock broke free of the enclosure, large and throbbing, already glistening droplets clung to its tip. “Vladimir…” Giselle's eyes grew in size, and her fingers flew over her lacings, freeing her from the volumes of petticoats. They joined the growing puddle of clothing on the floor.

  “By the Gods in the Heavens, your body is glorious.” I eased her back into the pillows, taking her nipples between my lips, and causing her to writhe with unrelenting need. Her curvaceous body was made for a man's attentions, and I was determined to have all of her.

  Panting, she sat up, pressing me down into her place. Her sapphire eyes glowed. “Vlad...” She breathed as she leaned down, capturing my mouth, her tongue danced with mine and her fingers worked themselves lower until they wrapped around my length, stroking me.

  “By the Gods, Giselle.” I could stand no more, pulling her closer, the tip of my cock rested against her soft opening.

  “Please, Vlad,” she begged, and I entered into her lush center. She took me deep, riding my body as my mouth closed on her nipple, first one and then the other, nipping and tugging until she screamed for relief.

  Driven mad with my own needs, I pulled out of her, pushing her beneath my body, nudging her thighs wide to fill her once again. I brought her to the edge of passion, only to fall over that edge, both of us crashing into the waves of desire.

  We laid together letting our bodies calm before she turned and picked up her dressing gown. “I would not mind at all if you called upon me again, Monsieur.” She sat down before her mirror, face flushed from our love making and powdered her breasts.

  “I don't believe I said I was finished with you for the night,” was my response.

  She giggled an engaging tinkle, her eyes sparked. “I am all yours for the taking.”

  But she was also a favorite of Lord Randall, a jealous nobleman hell-bent on having her for himself. It wasn't until he found me that I understood the folly of my mistake. The man was possessed— insanity glowed in the depths of his maniacal eyes. How he knew of my conquest, I'll never know.

  “Master Tepes!” My name rang out as the door slammed into the wall, and I fumbled into my trousers. Turning toward the man with the courtesan at my back, I met the barrel of the man's wavering shooting iron pointed at my chest. “You will unhand the mademoiselle at once!”

  “Lord Randall.” My gaze was immediately drawn to the weapon held in his shaking hand. “I assure you, sir, no insult was intended.” I searched the room for my own pistol, only to locate it on the other side of the bed.

  “Reggie!” Giselle looked around me. “Reggie, what are you doing?”

  “Saving your honor.” But that brought a laugh to her lips.

  “Lord Randall, I may be your favorite but you do not own my flesh, nor my heart.”

  Randall roared as if in pain. He pounded the heel of his hand against his forehead. “No one shall touch your flesh!” The quavering gun took aim. “No one,” he said with the calmness of a man consigned to death.

  Holding up a hand to pacify the distraught lover, I pushed the lady down beside the bed. “Stay put. No need to antagonize him further.” I scowled into her lovely sapphire eyes.

  “Lord Randall, had I known she was yours...” I judged the distance to my pistol.

  “Shut up!” he screamed in the now claustrophobic room.

  “Lord Randall.” I made an effort to appear harmless cautiously, taking a step to the side. At the last moment, I dove across the bed, the pistol gripped firm in my hands. I took aim and fired but not quick enough.

  Vanic and I shared a special bond after t
he drinking of his blood, and I frantically sent out a call as Randall brought his own pistol to life. My consciousness reached Vanic's as the muzzle blazed red and black powder smoked. The combined blasts were deafening, shaking bits of plaster from the ceiling and small objects tumbled from shelves. As the leaden ball entered my chest, I felt Vanic's cry of outrage and pain.

  Lord Randall slumped to the ground, a hole punctured his forehead. My aim had been true, but so had his. A small patch of crimson blossomed across my chest, flowering like a red rose bursting into a full bloom, but it grew, covering the entirety of my chest. My legs wobbled and gave away. I fell to my knees as screams greeted me. Life narrowed down to a slim tunnel, time ticked into minutes then seconds, almost coming to a complete standstill.

  There was little pain, either thanks to the vampire blood or nature's way of protecting the human mind from itself. My young conquest Giselle sank down beside me. My hand pressed to her full breast I had so lovingly gazed upon moments before.

  Once again, death waited to take me and this time, not even Vanic could save me. I felt his mind pushing through the hazy fog clouding mine even as my consciousness began to slip away. His preternatural speed brought him closer, and when again I opened my eyes, it was to find him kneeling next to me. Giselle nowhere to be found.

  “Vlad, my son, you are dying.” Bitter tears fell in crimson streaks. “I can save you, but you know the price. There is too much damage for the simple taking of my blood, too much to repair and so little life remains within your body. Would it be so, I would have already forced it upon you.” In that split second, I felt his hopelessness as his thoughts drifted back, not really seeing this place any longer. He remembered the time when it was he who had taken the blood exchange and not by choice, but by force.

  He vowed to never do to another what had been done to him. But I wasn't just another human, I was the only son he would ever have, and it was going to tear his soul apart to let me go. To lose a loved one to old age or disease was inevitable, but a senseless death brought by the violence of man?

  I knew what lay before me. It was my decision whether or not to follow in my father's footsteps. Vampires live for a very long time. Vanic had been reborn nearly three centuries before he came across me desperate for salvation.

  “Father,” I whispered, “will I live long enough to leave this place?”

  His strong arms embraced me. Only the speed of the vampire could move so quickly and efficiently, that in a matter of moments, we arrived at our apartments. He kicked in the door to my suite, rushing to the lounge, gently laying me down. What little strength I had preserved waned, my vision dimmed. I clutched his hand. Death was coming for me one way or the other, and I nodded.

  He sighed with his own acceptance, tears standing in his eyes, and allowed only two words to leave his lips before taking the remnants of my human life. “Forgive me.”

  Thus, it was the beginning of my new life as vampire, born of death and of blood.

  Chapter Three

  Some may think of vampirism as a curse, but it saved my life once and allowed for my rebirth. Watching the way Vanic chose to live afforded me knowledge most younglings lacked. For this, I was grateful.

  As a newborn vampire, it was hard to control the bloodlust and mistakes were easy to make. But when accidents happened, Vanic helped to guide my hand to conceal our existence. Above all else, autonomy must be maintained, because for the youngling unable to learn self control, the Vampire Hierarchy meted out justice accordingly with swift and precise violence. Vampires, no matter what humans believe, are not immune to death, unforgiving and endless.

  My human life had, for the most part, already adjusted to the lifestyle of the vampire. My sleeping patterns accommodated Vanic's years ago. At first, my flesh missed the sun's warm rays but if I couldn't have the sunshine, at least I still had the starlight. As I came to accept my new existence, the night became more alive, more vibrant. If there was a heartbeat within a thousand yards, I could hear it, taste the rich blood as the scent coated my tongue.

  Have I ever regretted my decision to become vampire? Who doesn't question the direction of their life? At times I lived with regret, not only for becoming vampire, but for the times I lost my head. Some say vampires are beyond human emotion, but I know this to be untrue. As a vampire, a new aloofness occurs. Some see it as a heartlessness, but in reality it is the survival mechanism of the predator. Without it, madness would ensue. Our emotions were as heightened as any of our senses.

  Strolling in the evenings became something I savored, glorying in the strange new animal I had become. Greeting those around me, my guarded eyes watched for prey, searching for the aroma of the richest, finest blood like a connoisseur. No one would ever guess the nice mannered young man who spoke with cultured tones, dressed in silken attire, a one-time child of the Black Death, was a killer. Not even when I was taking their blood.

  *****

  One such evening, I wandered through a park in downtown Paris. It was a darkly, beautiful night, crisp to the fingers, stars twinkled overhead. Day dwellers never see the night for what it can really be, a place of shadows and imagination, but also one where fears can run wild.

  I made my evening rounds taking in the horses that clopped past carrying their riders home. The air smelled of human sweat and waste as the day laborers made their way. As I watched, one of the many lights pricking the dark fabric of the night lost its place and fell to Earth. It arced to leave a blazing trail, and I heard the sharp intake of a delicate breath, immediately setting my beast to the hunt.

  “Mademoiselle, ‘tis a lovely evening,” my voice purred. My nostrils flared taking in her coppery-floral scent. My hooded gaze sought the pounding of her pulse, quivering beneath her flesh. “Did you happen to see the falling star? Was it not glorious?” I exhaled into the night, my pheromones mixing with the other heady scents.

  My prey this night was demure and sensual, I found her quite alluring. If my heart had a need to beat, her beauty would have halted it. She was tiny with her bosoms powdered and pushed up, begging for release. Her wares were a breathtaking display.

  “Oui, Monsieur, it is wondrous, is it not? Imagine catching the wayward star in the palm of one's hand,” the young lady responded with the barest hint of an accent, releasing a shimmery white cloud, her eyes downcast, as any properly trained paramour would. She lifted the rounded turquoise of her eyes to my gaze, entranced.

  “Do not think me presumptuous, but do you mind if I join you this evening?” My beast rolled within me as I stoked its fires, fed the flames while calming its call. Her heartbeat thundered, arousal poured off of her in waves while the richness of her blood coursed freely through her body, soon to be mine. Stepping closer, I inhaled her feminine scent, part lilac and vanilla, part copper.

  “I would be most honored, Monsieur.” She dropped a curtsey, her tiny hat bobbing.

  Little did my sweet paramour know she gambled with her life, her only wish to collect a few coins. As we strolled through the darkness, I leaned in to whisper in her ear, “You are as lovely as the night.” Stirring the loose tendrils of her hair, I breathed against her neck, nudging her head gently aside. Again, I inhaled her perfume and exhaled my own. Her heart raced faster, responding to my vampiric pheromones, and when she stopped in the dark of a shadowed building, it was easy to pull her into the depths of the adjoining alley.

  “Monsieur, please, the coins first.” Even as her heart hammered, she was the sensible business woman. With quickening breaths, the coins fell from my gloved hand into her shivering palm. She closed her eyes to the night, and my beast scented its prey.

  “As you please, monsieur.” She breathed out in a shimmery fog, lifting her skirts, but I stayed her actions.

  “It is my pleasure, mademoiselle.” I growled and my teeth nibbled her cherry lips, causing her to quiver. Her pulse throbbed as she arched up to greet my mouth. My cool, pale lips skipped across her red stained ones, moving lower to find the sensiti
ve flesh of her throat, kissing and sucking, pulling the flesh into my mouth only to let it go.

  Before letting my beast out to play, I lowered my lips further to find the shuddering softness of her ample breasts, taking each darkened rosette between my lips, laving one and then the other. They peeked above her corset glistening in the moonlight, a feast for the taking. With each of her quickening breaths, the beast in me became eager for release, rolling within my body, and I groaned with need.

  She sighed deeply, inhaling more pheromones, a breath of her whisper greeted my ears. “Anything you please is my wish this evening.” Her eyes remained closed, head flung back, and body quaking with need. I explored her lithe body until her tiny bud was discovered. My fingers slipped over and into her moist folds, the tiny bud bursting to life, until she shook with release.

  I pressed hard against her, letting her feel the depth of my desire, both for her blood and her body. I'd have to settle for her blood, my beast would have it no other way. My kisses became rushed as my beast turned frantic. Extended fangs tickled her flesh and my bloodlust creature roared to life. Too late she realized her mistake, but my beast enjoyed her struggle. She slipped so easily into my hands.

  Then to soothe her losing battle, my beast used seduction, purring in her ear and fondling her body with growing exquisite delight. It promised her pleasure, but it wanted only death. Her struggles wilted and she gave herself willingly. My fangs grazed her satiny throat as they found their entrance, plunging into her softness.

  She shuddered and swayed, her hands clasped me tighter, pulling me closer until her eyes glazed as her life emptied into mine. With the last beat of her heart, I sealed the wound. To the passerby, she'd be just another paramour lost in a drunken state, but with the morning light they'd find a shell, a glassy eyed doll cold with death.