He left Jacub to his fears and concerns. Kirilli boarded the carriage and decided to drive by the rail depot on the way out of town. It was empty when he arrived. All of the cargo had been loaded for the day and was on the journey west. The majority of guards had scattered and retired to their quarters. Resting in their warm confines, they must be thinking, the enemies of the "New Order" were no longer a threat. The few guards he passed paid him no mind. He was thinking of the woman he and Sasha had watched shot to death for no reason. His thoughts were rudely interrupted by the blast of a lone train whistle.
Why is another train coming into town and why is it coming from the west? All of the trains of late have come from the east.
He noticed a few switch-men standing at the west end of the depot by a track that had seldom been used. It had been a spur leading to a brewery long since gone broke. The owners had enjoyed their product more than marketing it and had lost everything. The building still stood five kilometers from town. The whistle blew two more times. He could see the black whitish smoke bellowing forth from its smokestack. The train was slowing but didn't appear to be pulling into the depot. His sensitive ears heard the first switch thrown and then the second one. The train was being diverted to the old forgotten rusted tracks. He watched it slowly and cautiously snake onto the old siding. The switch-men reset the switches back to the mainline and left. This train was different. It was made up of flat rail cars carrying heavy equipment and building materials. It made no sense. Were the Germans going to reopen the brewery? It mattered not; he had more pressing issues. He would catalog the information away for later. He lightly cracked the whip and headed home.
Dmitri met him at the front entrance as he brought the mare to a halt. "Dmitri, after you have bedded down the horse, please call the others, there is trouble in Krakow."
"Yes Father, I will see to it." He took the reins in his hands and guided the horse to the stable.
Kirilli walked into the safe confines of his house and made for the study. He needed to make some notes of what he saw and create his strategies for how they would survive the new occupiers. He knew it wouldn't be easy, but they needed to feed.
Dmitri, as instructed, called all of the members to the meeting, including the young girls, Eva and Zoya. Kirilli had said everyone and age was of no consequence. Kirilli sat at the head of the table with a furrowed brow of concentration. This was very strange; he usually sat in the middle of the table when a meeting was called. He believed that sitting in the middle of the table with everyone seated across from him provided a sense of unity instead of authority. He was staring up at the wall at nothing. No one except Sasha had ever seen him so wrapped up in his thoughts. Something was amiss; he didn't even acknowledge them as they came in and took their respective seats. Everyone had taken their proper place at the table and uttered not a word. Kirilli was oblivious to their presence for another few minutes. Without introductions or fanfare he arose and addressed them all.
"My friends, a new enemy has entered our midst. I have returned from Krakow with disturbing news. The Germans are planning on relocating the local populace to another region. Any and all people they do not deem fit for the new society will be eliminated on the spot. Sasha and I witnessed this first hand not too long ago. Dear wife, what we thought was randomness was not. I witnessed the same act today. A man was shot for not being quick enough with his steps. I had the privilege of meeting the man who administered the shot, Major Ernst of the Third Reich's SS. Our time honored agreement with the Polanski is in jeopardy. I was speaking with Jacub when Major Ernst entered the room inquiring if Jacub had seen to all of the outlined preparations. This is a man of great arrogance and contempt for anything not German." He paused for a minute regrouping his thoughts, not looking at anyone in particular.
"Based on what I learned yesterday, our way of life is in dire jeopardy. I fear we may have to revert to the old ways of feeding - hunting for prey." He retook his seat as sadness encompassed his face.
The old ways of feeding had almost decimated the clan with clashes from the locals. Like Nikoli and the Romanov, they had been threatened with life and limb from the locals. Instead of declaring war and feeding indiscriminately and flaunting their activities as the Romanov had, they were discreet with their victims. They stayed out of the large cities, preying only on the sparsely populated areas in an effort not to raise alarm across the countryside. But they had the misfortune to feed on an elderly man of affluence who had ties to ruler Mustang the III. A search for the missing man from Mustang’s guards brought them to the Ancient city of Dakota. The head of investigation had no proof of how the relative had died, but all leads pointed towards the Boirarskys. They had been given an ultimatum to leave the country or perish. Kirilli had wanted to avoid an all-out war and agreed to the terms. He and his clan would leave the country in a fortnight. The investigator agreed to the terms. But as Kirilli and his group were moving down the road headed to the north and out of the grips of the Ottoman Empire, they were ambushed by fifty men with the investigator leading the charge. In the end, 3/4 of the clan and all of the investigating men were dead. There were no wounded to speak of and there was not time to feed, so the bodies were left there to rot, to be discovered by patrols that would surely appear when no one returned to make a report. He did not want to revisit another encounter like that.
Sasha spoke first. "Dear husband, it appears we have no other alternative. We must feed to survive and if what you say is true, we shall have no other choice, will we?"
Dmitri was next. “Father, we must hunt to survive. You have trained us well. We will be careful not to raise any alarms, but as Mother said, we must feed to survive. What other options are there?"
Sergei, who rarely spoke, agreed wholeheartedly with Dmitri. "Kirilli, you have taught us well. We will do whatever it takes to guarantee our food supply."
Kirilli knew the options were limited, that Dmitri and Sergei were right. He moved is eyes towards his beloved wife. "Did I mention Nikoli was also at Jacob’s office?"
"Nikoli?" queried Sasha with a concerned tone. "What business could he have in town?"
“He was talking to Jacub when I entered, about what, I do not know. But it was the conversation he was having with Major Ernst that was disturbing. I believe he is up to his old tricks. I am going back to Krakow tomorrow and hopefully talk to Jacub about the standing agreement. Hopefully he can still help us so we won't have to revert to the old ways. Based on what I have seen in the past few weeks, if we are detected, it will be very difficult to escape the current scourge."
Everyone nodded in agreement. It would be best to continue with the current agreement than drawing unwanted attention. One by one they exited the room preoccupied with their own thoughts. Sasha stayed behind but didn't dare approach her husband. She knew through the years that when Kirilli was deeply contemplating a threat to the clan, any type of contact could result in an unpleasant reflex reaction.
"Dear husband," she softly said.
Nothing.
"Kirilli," she said a little louder gaining his brief attention. “I, excuse me, we know whatever you decide will be best for the clan." He acknowledged her words with a small approving smile.
“I’m not so sure this time, dear wife. I'm not so sure. Please leave me."
Sasha rose, walked towards him and applied a soft kiss to his forehead; she exited the room pulling the doors closed behind her.
Kirilli was true to his word; he went to Krakow the next morning and worked out a tentative agreement with Jacub. Jacub would either attempt to smuggle some of the locals out into the woods, or convince Major Ernst and Colonel Eckhardt that he knew of regions that could best use some of the people for the glories of the Reich. Kirilli was unusually stern with his word to Jacub, "I don't care how you accomplish this task, if you fail, I will be forced to resurrect the past."
Jacub kept to the agreement at great peril to his life. For months he was able to keep Kirilli supplied with food. Many
of those he chose had known of the longtime agreement, and believed it would be a more fitting end than whatever the Germans had in store for them. Many had heard stories of people being taken out and shot for fun, or put in vans and gassed, or even worse, sent to massive camps with one purpose, elimination of undesirables.
But it was coming to an end. The amount of food being supplied had noticeably and steadily diminished over the last few months. Kirilli decided to visit Jacub again for an explanation.
He was hunched over his desk as he came in. Jacub had lost over twenty kilos since they had last met. His shirt hadn't been cleaned in weeks. His cheek bones were showing through the skin that had tightened around his jaw and cheek bones with the rapid loss of weight. His eyes were swollen and sunken deep in their sockets. "What do you want Kirilli? I am a very busy man."
Kirilli was shocked with his cold welcome.
"Jacub, I've come to discuss our current problem."
Jacub curtly cut him off. "Kirilli, I have done all I can. I can do no more and I caution you not to return to this town unless you wish to become a victim. There is nothing more I can do for you and your kind. Leave now, or I shall have the guards call for Major Ernst. Understood?"
Kirilli wanted to ask more questions and argue the merits of Jacob’s comments, but he detected fear and hostility in Jacob’s voice. The man was fighting for his own existence. He struggled with an attempt to show his worthiness to his new master, Major Ernst and the Third Reich. Kirilli understood and took his leave, hoping someday they could return to the days of normalcy. As he boarded the carriage a guard called out.
"Peasant, return to your home or die where you stand." The guard was pointing his Mauser rifle at him, laughing behind the sight. Other guards standing around were laughing at the spectacle. Kirilli turned the carriage to the south and headed home. He heard the sound of a gunshot and felt the bullet whistle by his head but didn't turn around. All in good time my friends, all in good time. The past was creeping back into his thoughts.
He returned to Bezpieczenstwo and informed Sasha, Dmitri, and Sergei they would now have to hunt for their sustenance. Jacub would no longer be able to help them. Dmitri and Sergei knew what had to happen and accepted the orders. They would need to capture at least four people every other week for the clan to avoid starvation. And hunt they did.
They were careful and cautious as to where and when they took the victims. They would spend a week at a time before locating those they felt would not be missed - the single traveler, remote farmers, or the occasional woodsman gathering fire wood. They never hunted in the same area twice (as per Kirilli's instructions) to avoid raising an alarm. The thick forests and mountains of Southern Poland - Tatra, Beskid, Slaski, and Bieszczady - offered the perfect hunting grounds. No German patrols or soldiers had ventured into these areas yet. For the time being, they didn't offer any strategic value for the new conquerors. Kirilli sensed that the mountains and forests were thinning of prey. Their last hunt had only yielded two people.
Chapter 5
Skirmishes
October 1940
It was more than either side could handle. The Germans (despite repeated efforts and concerns addressed by Nikoli) were going to continue with their current plans of ethnic cleansing. The old, the sick, the young, and those who were designated as “unfit for duty” were being rounded up, loaded onto the boxcars of death, and sent west. Both clans were asking the same questions. What is so important that the local inhabitants must be sent west? Why can they not perform and contribute to the new regime from their own homeland? It made no sense. But as the months had proven, the feeding grounds were becoming slim. Both sides were vying for what little food the Germans had left in Southern Poland. It was becoming unbearable.
One month ago, the situation reached a terrible crisis. Kirilli had sent Roman and Dmitri to perform the now daily hunt. They had to hunt more often and they came back with less food each week. This day they would have to travel twenty-five kilometers to Bochnia to find food. The SS had efficiently been thinning out all of the small hamlets that never showed on a map. Traveling had become increasingly difficult as the amount of patrols had dramatically increased over the last few months. Any strangers were almost immediately reported to the local authorities, which meant visits from the local Gestapo. Kirilli did not need the Gestapo knocking at their door, asking ridiculous questions that would never be answered to a degree the conquerors would ever comprehend. Roman and Dmitri would need to travel at night to avoid detection.
Unbeknownst to them, Nikoli had also sent Stephan and Yakov to the same province with the same mission.
“Boys, bring back enough food for a feast. We are starving. If you fail, I fear for your sakes. You are not to return empty handed.”
The boys knew better than to disappoint their leader. Nikoli’s wrath was well known. He hadn’t maintained his position with the clan by looking the other way. Disappoint him and chances were you would never be seen or heard from again, or worse, you might be the sacrificial lamb for an unscheduled banquet. They packed a few items and headed off on the twenty-five kilometer trek to Bochnia.
Neither party knew of the others intentions, nor that they had both targeted the same small village in the hopes of finding fresh blood for the clans. Both groups arrived at the small, featureless village within minutes of each other. The village housed maybe thirty small huts. A whisper of smoke was detected in two of them. The glow of kerosene lamps could be dimly made out in one of them. The usual noises of small animals and vermin were strangely missing. It mattered not. The target was human, not animal. The fewer the animals, the better. No dogs or chickens to give alarm, warning the inhabitants of intruders. Stealth would be on their side.
Stephan nodded at Yakov, “There, the one to our left with the lamp, that is where we shall feast. Hopefully they have a young maiden or two. I would love to feast on both pleasures tonight.”
Yakov nodded in agreement. He also had been deprived of both pleasures for much too long. He grinned, revealing his black desolate rotted teeth. He was a thief. He took what he wanted and was very good at it. His skills made up for his physical deficiencies. The vampire who had converted Yakov wasn’t worried about a stout blood line as much as a need to feed.
* * *
Nikoli had been very specific with his directions that fateful night nearly 150 years ago.
"Stephan, you have done nothing to prove yourself worthy to be called a member of the Romanov clan. I want to expand our clan numbers; you must bring us back a new member who will help us hunt. If you fail tonight, I trust you know it would be unwise to return here. If you do decide to return empty handed, it will be your blood we feast on tonight."
Stephan had no intention of becoming the main course. He had stalked through the woods for hours until he came upon a young man kneeling over a lifeless body. It appeared the boy was rifling through the man's pockets in search of valuables. He cared not what the thief was doing, but rather how he could convert the living and bring back the dead body. Nikoli would be pleased with the added bonus of the body, and perhaps, would allow Stephan to remain as part of the clan.
Stephan quietly approached to within two meters of his prey. A small dry branch gave away his approach. The young man turned, revealing a very disgusting face. His eyes were much too big for the sockets. His face was contorted and harsh. Scars marked both cheeks and chin. His eyes were the color of mud, but it was his teeth that were the most disturbing; they were green and rotten. Stephan had to overlook these deficiencies; he must not fail Nikoli again. So he pounced and sunk his fangs deep into the arteries. Stephan almost gagged on the blood. Instead of being thin and sweet like cooper, it was harsh and tainted as if he were sucking out a cesspool. Stephan did not know that his victim had survived the recent plague epidemic. Yakov had been the only survivor of his family.
Stephan sucked out the tainted fluid, all the while it was filling his brain with a pool of puss and bile. He could tak
e no more, and gladly started forcing the required liter back into this unsavory man. For the conversion to start its work, the liter of blood needed to be returned at once. He was glad he could purge some of the rancid liquid out of his system. What he could not imagine, was how the mixture of his blood with his victim’s was creating a very deadly weapon, one that would be most welcome when it was identified.
Stephan shook his head to banish the memories of that night, and the awful taste. The memory could still make his body tighten and sicken. He knew he must concentrate fully on the hunt tonight; again his life would depend on what he could bring back to Nikoli.
* * *
Dmitri and Roman had picked out their target, a small hut to their right with a dim light. They felt remorse for the actions they were about to take. The Germans and their relocation program had forced Kirilli to make a difficult decision. For ages they had fed on the local population, only taking the sick and old, or those who had been dealt a bad hand at birth or had been brutally damaged during a harvest. Even the local prefect had agreed to the terms. He felt it better to strike a deal with Kirilli than for the clan to feed indiscriminately. The only condition Herr Polasky had was that each body, after being thoroughly drained, be returned for a proper Catholic burial. Kirilli had long forgotten about religious rites but agreed to the terms. As long as the clan could feed and the villagers didn’t take up arms, it was a small price to pay for what he deemed a ridiculous charade.
Simultaneously, both groups moved through the dark night towards the small structure, neither aware of the others presence. The silence was actually unnerving to a degree. It was as if the whole town was dead. The only noise was the sound of their feet moving over the hard cold ground.
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