"Jacub, surely you are mistaken. What business could they possibly have with the Germans?"
"Kirilli, open your eyes and look around. We are all fighting for our very survival. Come down from your mountain and look around. Where are the people? What is being built north of town? Why are the people being relocated to the west? And what is this talk of walking into Russia?" Jacub collapsed behind his desk sobbing. "I don't know how much more I can take of this."
The floorboards creaked, announcing the arrival of another man. The sound of hobnailed boots clicking loudly approached. The door swung open revealing Major Ernst. He took a quick look around the dimly lit room.
"Polasky, why is the door closed and the shades drawn? Surely you and your friend aren't conspiring against the Third Reich, now are you?" His words were like venom.
"Herr Boirarsky? No excuse me, Herr Peasant. What business do you have in town? Herr Polasky is a very busy man with no time for idle discussions." The major moved to the shade and opened it and stared out at the relatively empty streets. "Gentlemen, you should feel honored to be a part of the Third Reich. When our plans are complete, the world will embrace our leader Adolf Hitler and the Third Reich. We are ushering in a new era of history for all of mankind." A pall of evil surrounded the room as the major concluded his speech.
"Jacub, I will talk to you later. Herr Boirarsky, Herr Polasky has important duties to tend to." The major rethought his words and quickly made a correction.
"Correction, peasant, Herr Polasky is much too busy to worry with any problems you may be encountering. He is now a servant of the Greater Reich. I would caution you to remain at your residence and stay out of his affairs, or you may find yourself on a labor crew, or worse." The words trailed off through the room as the major stood firm and erect in the window. "Herr Polasky, do you have today's manifest ready?"
"Just finishing the report, Herr Major."
Kirilli started walking out into fresh air. The major's words had turned the current surroundings stale and unbearable. He heard the major address him as he left, "Peasant, heed my words."
He will regret the words peasant one day soon, Kirilli thought as he exited.
***
What a strange coincidence. Kirilli is in town. Maybe he came to strike a deal with the Germans also. We were first and it will remain that way, thought Nikoli as he watched Kirilli exit the building. I should stop in and see Jacub before seeking out the major; he might have information I can use.
Nikoli's footsteps were loud and discernible as he approached the open door. Jacub was slumped behind his desk filling out more forms. The air in the room was thick and stale. The smell of bad tobacco was strong and wafting from his right.
"Herr Romanov, what brings you to town? We are not scheduled to meet for another week." Jacub did not bother to look up. He had a manifest to complete and the meeting with Kirilli and the major had, to say the least, not been palatable for his health.
Nikoli was dismissive of Jacob’s manners. He turned to the daunting SS Officer. "Major, we have issues of importance to discuss. I suggest we go to your quarters to review them in private."
"Nonsense Herr Romanov, we are all friends here and faithful followers of the Third Reich, eh Herr Polasky?" A small evil smile broke the major's hard features.
"Very well major. What has happened to the agreed upon human labor pool? You promised us ten workers per week. In the last two visits we have only been allowed to acquire less than half. I would like an explanation."
The major turned abruptly and came within a half meter of Nikoli's face. Even though the major was a good five centimeters shorter, his tone made up for his short stature compared to Nikoli's.
"Herr Romanov, let me remind you of who is in control here. It is not you or your peasant friend Herr Boirarsky. It is I and the Third Reich. We decide what policies to follow and which ones to destroy. Were you under the illusion that you were in control? If so, I apologize for any and all misunderstandings." The major's voice was getting louder, his face was turning a bright red and the sweet veins of blood were popping out from under the heavily starched white shirt.
"It is I, Major Maximilian Ernst of the Third Reich and our beloved fuehrer, Adolf Hitler, who is in charge here. It is we, who decide when and where people will be needed or disposed of. It is we, who determine the fate of this country, not you and your peasant friends. You are all too stupid to imagine the magnitude of the new order and what great riches it is bestowing upon your inferior races."
The word peasant played around in Nikoli's brain with the thunder of a blacksmith's hammer hitting a hot anvil.
"We, are the new masters, and we, will decide what is best for everyone."
Jacub was not deterred by the major but kept his head down and continued with the required task. He had heard this speech one too many times from the major's lips. Nikoli was not as appeasing. He was not accustomed to being upbraided by a human.
"Herr Major,” he snarled in a forceful tone, “we entered into a contract and I expect you and your fuehrer to honor it."
The words could have been delivered from a loaded revolver. No one had addressed the major in such a tone since his days in the Hitler Youth. The young ambitious physical instructor had berated Maximilian for not completing the obstacle course in the maximum allotted time. The instructor had singled him out in front of the class of fifty and ridiculed his performance and less than impressive physical attributes. He had never forgotten the tongue lashing and embarrassment he felt that day, but vowed it would never happen again. He promised himself if it did, he would be in a position to silence the loose tongue. The major lowered his right hand to the loaded holster resting on his hip.
"Herr Romanov, our business agreement is effectively dissolved. If I see you in town again, I promise you, it will be your last trip to Krakow."
Nikoli had more to say, much more. But what good would come out of arguing? He was infuriated by the major's insolent attitude towards himself and the word peasant struck hard at his core. Peasant, I shall someday show you the power of a mere peasant, you insignificant man. Yes, someday, you will learn a lesson you will never forget.
He walked out into the fresh air and breathed deeply. Yes, one day I will squeeze the words peasant out of these Germans. Their master race’s scrawny necks will break under my hands.
"Nikoli."
He turned to see Kirilli standing five meters from him. Kirilli had seen Nikoli enter the building and wanted to find out if there was any truth to the words Jacub had spoken.
"Nikoli, is it true you and the Germans have forged a pact? Have you in some way allied your clan with the calamity which currently surrounds our land and threatens our existence? Is it true? I hope for your sake, Jacob’s comments are a case of him being overwhelmed with his current responsibilities, and is mistaken over the perceived agreement you have struck with the Germans.”
Nikoli knew any response would only inflame Kirilli. Kirilli, the man who had let his boys reap more dishonor on his clan. Kirilli, the man, the vampire, who stood for everything he and the Romanov despised: money, power, grace, and good upbringing. They were a blight to those who had come before them.
"Kirilli, my business with the Germans is of no consequence to the Boirarskys. I do not need the German’s help in any way. They are just a glimpse of history passing before our eyes. In the end, they will vanish and we shall still be here."
Kirilli detected a sharp decisive tone of anger in Nikoli's words. He had been in many negotiations over the decades and knew when an opponent was lying in order to save face. "Hmm, interesting. I gather the meeting with Major Ernst did not proceed well?"
"As I said, that is none of your business." Nikoli's tone was getting stronger and more confrontational. "What the major and I discussed is of no concern. What is of concern is the unwarranted attack on Stephan and Yakov. I will have your throat for the wounds inflicted on those boys."
Kirilli knew what happened that night at B
ochnia would have to be addressed; he had hoped not this soon. Yet the time had arrived. He would need all of his acquired skills to calm Nikoli and turn attentions elsewhere.
"Yes, it was an unfortunate mishap that the boys met there that night. Yet they were able to size up the situation and realize permanent damage to one of our own would lead to heavy repercussions from either one of us. The boys acted wisely and prudently."
Nikoli was not impressed with the oratory of empty falsehoods. "If I had properly trained my boys, yours would still be withering in pain. I must make sure it doesn't happen again."
Kirilli's patience was just breached. How dare Nikoli show his arrogance in such a pompous manner? "You fool. I should have guessed that the heart and brains of the Romanov are as dense and thick as Ivan’s were."
Kirilli was referring to the altercation between Ivan and Gregori two hundred years ago. "Did he really think he could have taken Galina without a fight?"
The fire and rage in Nikoli was building with each hateful memory Kirilli dredged up.
The argument between the men was drawing the attention of the soldiers who were patrolling the streets. Some of the passersby were also taking interest in the altercation. Both men squared off ready to engage in mortal combat. Their hearts began racing as the change was starting to overcome them both. The anger and hatred they shared for each other was timeless. It knew no bounds. Kirilli had the calmer demeanor, but Nikoli had pushed his limits too far this time. He was about to pay for the slanderous comments about the Boirarsky clan.
"Well, it appears my work here is done."
Ernst made his way to the open door and was overhearing the heated exchange taking place between Nikoli and Kirilli. "Herr Polasky, it appears your friends have a true distaste for each other, more than they do for The Third Reich." With that he let out a hollow laugh and strode towards the men. "Please gentlemen, do not let me interrupt such a display of peasant fighting. It has been a long time since I have had the honor of watching countrymen fight to the death. Please continue." He stopped as he mocked Nikoli and looked into his eyes. For a fraction of a second he swore he saw fire coming out of the eye sockets. The air around the two men had an evil presence, as if death was stalking all who came too close. A low growl came from his left.
"Leave now, or perish where you stand." He looked to his left and saw the same eyes in the peasant Boirarsky. They pierced deep into his soul. His heart felt as if it were leaping out of his chest. The veins on his neck were throbbing in pain with each heartbeat. It was as if his veins were being drawn out of his skin. Now he knew these were not ordinary men. He slowly backed-up, very unsure if each step would be his last.
"Gentlemen, I apologize for the interruption. Please continue. I have a work detail to attend to." The farther he separated the space between himself and the peasants, the quicker his senses returned, along with a normal heart rate. He quickened his pace to the depot.
The storm had passed. The major's intrusion had spared each a gruesome battle. The wounds of the past and the present were now in the open. Each man was now dealing with the deadly past and the ghosts that had haunted them through the ages. There was more to the story, but this was not the time to revisit the transgressions of the past.
"Nikoli, it is time we put our trivial matters aside. There is a common enemy between us."
They both turned to watch Major Ernst hastily move to the depot. He could feel their eyes following him.
The Third Reich, thought both men.
Chapter 7
The Meeting
November 1940
It had been centuries since the two clans sat down and talked with each other. They had been hated rivals for as long as anyone could remember. There were distant memories from the last such meeting in the 17th century. The leaders were trying to come to terms with their feeding habits and a semblance of structure. The gathering had started out civil enough, until the leader of the Romanov (Ivan) had excused himself from the proceedings to get a bit of fresh air. His real intent was to feast on the favorite daughter of Gregori (patriarch of the Boirarskys), Galina. She, like the other children, had been relegated to the outside veranda while the leaders discussed matters of utmost importance. Ivan quietly took his leave. After a few minutes, Gregori became agitated and headed out to bring Ivan back to the table. As he entered the foyer, he could see Ivan standing behind Galina with his arms pressing down on her shoulders. He was speaking quietly to her. She didn't reply, but rather nodded her head with the words he spoke. Gregori noticed Ivan was taking the stance one would prior to plunging those sharp teeth into the carotid.
"Ivan, let her go! She is not yours to take!" Ivan spun towards Gregori flashing his razor sharp fangs as they were reaching their full size.
"Try and stop me, Gregori. We have fed on whomever we have chosen for centuries. It is time you learned which clan shall rule this land." Ivan wasted no time and let his innermost feelings of anger and hatred (which he had always kept in check) boil to the surface. In seconds, his teeth were protruding out of his mouth. Galina turned towards Ivan in horror as she realized why he had come onto the veranda in the first place. With his left hand he threw her to the ground. He was savoring how sweet her blood would taste surging through his veins. She would keep for a few more moments.
He turned towards Gregori, crouched down, then lunged at his sworn enemy. He crossed the five meters that separated them in the flash of an eye. His mouth went for Gregorio’s neck. Gregori knew the move, held up his left arm deflecting the initial contact as Iva’s' teeth grazed his shoulder.
Ivan turned towards Gregori. "It is time to end the battle once and for all. You Boirarskys are weak and insignificant. It is time to show you who your masters are!" Gregori pulled himself off the ground as saliva dripped from his fangs, streaming down the corners of his mouth. It had been a long time since he flashed his teeth in anger, but Ivan had gone too far this time.
"Ivan, if we cannot co-exist then I shall finish what my blood line failed to carry out in the past, the end of the Romanov."
Ivan had never known Gregori to show any sign of true anger or hate. He had always been steadfast and placid. Maybe this wasn't the time or place for such an altercation, but his boiling blood would not allow him to bow out. He would have to stand and face the wrath he brought on himself.
"Gregori, it will be a pleasure teaching you a lesson."
With speed infused by instinct, both men hurtled themselves towards each other. Galina lay on the ground and watched in fear as these two imposing men faced off and started battling each other. No words could come out of her small mouth, as her windpipe was being constricted from the rush of adrenaline in her body.
Ivan drew first blood. As the men met in midair, his right hand grabbed Gregorio’s left arm, sinking his claws deep into the rough hide, tearing muscle and tendons. Gregori grimaced with the pain from the puncture wound, yet made not a sound. Any recognition of pain would only fuel Iva’s superiority complex. The flesh wound would heal in time.
The men fell from the air landing on their feet. Iva’s fangs sank deep into Gregorio’s arm. He had left himself open for a severe counterattack. Instead of trying to shake Ivan loose, Gregori moved his right arm into the air (as a blacksmith would a sledgehammer preparing to pound on raw hot steel) and thrust his right hand into Iva’s jaw. The sound of a splintering jaw bone reverberated through the air. Dark black blood came pouring out of Ivan’s mouth, a sign that he had not enjoyed a fresh feeding for days. Both men fell heavily on the stone terrace. Galina again tried to shout out for them to stop, but the words wouldn't come together. Neither paid her any attention. This battle was for supremacy, they knew they could not yield a centimeter; this was a mortal battle with the winner taking all.
"Gregori, I see you haven't forgotten how to fight like a true man. It is good to see you still have some backbone left in your failing body."
"Ivan, I can tell from your blood you haven't fed for quite some time.
If you do not yield, I shall see to it that you never feed again. You must have two vipers to feed properly and I have already jarred one loose."
Ivan slowly moved his tongue inside his mouth to verify what he had just heard. It was true; he would not be able to properly feed with only one operational tooth. The amount of blood he could pull from a body would be minimal, and without a very large pool of humans to draw from, it would have the same effect of a wooden stake in the heart, only this death would be long and tortuous. Taking a stake in the heart or having holy water tossed on one's self would be more merciful than the fate Gregori spoke of.
"Gregori, I will yield to your wisdom."
Gregori was pleased he had made his point and turned to look at Galina. Her brown eyes were wide and wet. She had never seen men battle each other before.
"Galina, my child, all is settled." Her eyes widened in shock as Gregori was consoling her. She saw Ivan picking up a marble bench. With a quick move he hurtled it towards Gregori. The impact would smash his head if it made contact.
"Die Gregori!" yelled Ivan as he thrust the bench through the air.
Gregori ducked to his left. The chair missed his head by centimeters, digging into the small of his back, and then crashing onto the cold stone floor. The pain was staggering. He was losing consciousness. The noise of marble impacting stone caught the attention of the others in the meeting hall. They quickly entered the foyer to see what had happened. Poor little Galina looked down, staring at her father Gregori, who lay motionless on the ground. A wounded Ivan approached the two and stood gloating over the damage he had inflicted.
It was Josif, Gregorio’s son, who made the first move. He was young and very fit. He was regarded as the most tenacious and feared fighter between the clans. His exploits were known through all of the country. An encounter with Josif, whether human or vampire, ended with the same result, death. Josif would be the victor.
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