Venice 3rd August 1576
The plague in Venice has continued for the second year in a row. The people of the city are dying by the thousands, particularly the poor and unclean. There isn’t a single household that hasn’t been affected by this disease. No family remains intact. The pizzicamorti walk the streets in great numbers, overburdened by their work. They wear bells on their feet so that the living can hear them coming and hand them their dead along with whatever they can afford for their burial. No doubt they are all thrown in mass graves like the one we encountered on our escape from the Keep. The mood in the city is tentative and dangerous. People are fast to suspect and cast aspersions. No one is beyond recrimination particularly those who are new to the area, independent or unusual. Two nights ago a mob attacked a young man on the street who stole an apple from a fruit vendor and killed him on the spot for his dishonesty.
We continue our tentative existence at the inn but sometimes I fear for our safety. The fact that we remain hidden during the daytime makes people suspicious of us and Vyktor says we should move on but I believe these apothecaries might have a solution for my son so I am hesitant to leave. At night I visit their stores looking for herbs and medicines that might be of some use in my research. The boy is still with the family and I bring him blood nightly after they have gone to bed, along with whatever concoction I have created up to that point, but still he sleeps. Once he opened his eyes and looked straight at me. He has eyes just like his father only fainter, like his porcelain complexion. Though he does not wake, he still grows and I can tell that one day he’ll be tall and strong just like Vyktor!
The next few pages were written without a date and appeared erratic.
They’ve taken Vyktor! They took him while I was visiting Valgt. A neighbor saw him drink from a woman on the street the night before last and told the landlady who decided to turn us in. She waited for him to come in after feeding and called the authorities who were followed by a quick-forming mob. They all rushed into the room and grabbed him and I saw it all from the end of the street as I returned. Had I come five minutes earlier I would have suffered the same fate. I froze on the spot as soon as I saw them and was unable to do anything or they would have taken me too. “Revenanti,” they kept repeating, "Revenanti, blood sucking disease bringers.” I watched them drag my husband away by his hands and feet while he vainly struggled to escape but they were too many. I followed behind them through the streets until they reached a small piazza and without ceremony produced a sword and impaled my love. I looked away before they cut off his head and was unable to hold back the vomit that rose to my mouth. After they were done they just left him there and dispersed in all different directions wiping their hands of his blood, content that they had done their bit to rid the world of the pestilence.
When I felt safe that they were gone I ran to him and cried on his body for I don’t know how long. My beloved Vyktor’s lifeless form lay before me. After the centuries of incarceration, pain and torture he had endured he did not deserve this end despite his sanguineous Affliction. Does one blame the wolf or the fox for what he eats? Do not the shark and the whale feed on the other fishes? Why then must our kind be hunted for what we have no control over? We only feed on humans to survive, whilst they kill each other out of sport, greed and insanity. The injustice welled up inside me and I wanted to kill every last living creature that called himself a human in this city. I pushed his body into the water and watched it sink slowly into the murky waters. I kissed his forehead and wrapped the head in my apron and took it with me.
The two men that stood guard at the house waiting to do to me what they had done to my husband were quick work. I snuck up behind one and slit his throat while the second was taking a steamy piss into the canal. Him too I dispatched as soon he knelt over his companion trying to stem the flow of blood. The door to our building was locked but I broke it open. My strength always triples in times of rage. Mrs Cantolini, our beloved landlady, was awoken by the noise and sat up in her bed trying to light the candle with her trembling hands for she knew what was coming for her. I jumped on her bed and sat on top of her glaring my teeth like the succubus of lore and I placed my husband’s head right next to her pillow. Terrified she screamed and screamed for the guards to come save her but to no avail. I knocked her out and after tying her to the bed I waited for her to wake up. In her terror she had wet herself. When she came round she began screaming again especially when she saw the severed head deposited inches from her own but the rag in her mouth prevented her from being heard. Her face was bright red and the veins on her temples popped. She was drenched in sweat and struggling to escape. I sat there waiting for her to either pass out again or stop screaming.
“I will remove the rag from your mouth if you will be quiet for a moment.” She nodded no and continued to try to scream. I punched her again at which point she regained some composure and stopped squirming. I removed the rag.
“Please don’t hurt me! What do you want? You can have whatever you want, just please don’t hurt me.”
“You have nothing I need, woman! One of the most valuable persons in my life was taken at your bidding this evening and now I am robbed of purpose!”
“They saw him kill a girl two nights ago, push her against the wall and then bite her on the neck until she was dead! He was a dangerous man, he had to be stopped or he might have hurt you too!” She bluffed.
“He was no more dangerous than a child! The difference between us and you is that we only kill to survive, whereas your kind are wicked to their core! How many times do I have to suffer at your hands? Why won’t you let us be? We have hearts and we hurt just like you. Why won't you let us be…?” I cried onto her chest.
“You are like him? You are a revenant too?! Get away from me, get away from me!” She was in hysterics once again.
“I should let you live, to die by this disease which will no doubt wipe out the rest of the city by summer next, but I cannot abide the thought of you remaining alive a second longer while my love sleeps in the water. You are the scourge in this equation, not he! I am sad to say I was human like you once. You are the blood sucking scum of the earth! You have no morals and no respect, and I will make it my life’s work to kill, maim and torture as many of you as I can for you are nothing but food for my gut!” And with that I bit into her straining neck and drank her dry. I sat on top of her until her blood stopped flowing and her heart stopped beating and her skin felt cold and dry and then I came off the bed and wrapped my Vyktor in her finest linens and together we went to get our boy and leave for somewhere new, just like he’d wanted to do all along...
Vienna January 17th 1604
My money is nearing its end. I have placed Valgt in a Sanatorium for people with special requirements but it is forbiddingly expensive and has consumed most of my savings. I tried to make it last as long as I could and invest wisely but as I see it, I only have a few more months before it is all gone. The thought fills me with dread. If it were only myself I could survive on a lot less but due to his specific requirements I need a lot more than I can produce or steal from my victims. Over the years I have been free I’ve seen the value of my gold lessen and then turn to cursed silver and then shrink in size. With the constant state of war this continent is in, the Empire will soon leave us with nothing but our clothes. I am infuriated by the fact that over the years I have walked this earth I have contributed more to their worthless causes than most and yet I cannot avoid it. I have adopted a meaningless title and I try to operate as inconspicuously as I can but as a woman of some means on my own I have to abide by appearances and thus I contribute to the Crown whenever I must. I pass as the widow of a rich merchant but every few years I change location lest I am suspected. I have made some investments in my time and I manage normally but times are hard, and being hampered by the light makes it difficult to control those in my employ.
The Sanatorium where Valgt is cared for is a worse blood sucker than myself when it comes to money. T
hey keep all sorts of degenerates in there and the owners satisfy all their whims but at a formidable cost in exchange for their service and silence. It irks me that my precious boy is kept in a home with the ill, the insane and the perverse but it was the only place that would fulfill all my requirements without asking any questions. He is kept in a lightproof room and fed human blood three times a day while I continue to search for his cure.
The priest’s writings have not helped me in creating an antidote for whatever caused his slumber. He remains silent and beautiful. He has grown into a magnificent young man and in many ways he reminds me of Vyktor. He would have been driven insane by my persistence at finding a cure but I cannot think of any other way in which to put myself to use. I constantly study new herbs and medicines and am fascinated by information from the new world. There are new beans and fruits and spices with incredible qualities brought back frequently and I devour all the information I can find on them. I am certain that a botanical cure will no doubt be revealed to me imminently.
Vienna March 29th 1604
In recent months I have noticed myself become more tired. I feel as if I am aging and I believe my skin is starting to show signs of deterioration. They are imperceptible to most people but I must admit I am concerned. I am quickly approaching what I believe to be four centuries of Affliction in this body, but never before have I felt or looked ragged or spent. Normally a quick hunt in the night will return all my strength as soon as I have consumed a few cups of warm blood, but last night I drained two grown men before I felt restored...
Vienna April 3rd 1604
…Today at the Sanatorium when I went to see Valgt the nurse came to feed him. I tasted the blood they gave him and established that it really was human… I asked the nurse where they got it but she would not divulge that information easily, until I grabbed her by the throat that is, and showed her my teeth. Then she simply told me, “The Läuse. Go to the city center and head for Blutgasse. Three doors down on the left there is a house with no number but the stencil of the Läuse on the door. Knock on it seven times and when they open the small window ask to see the Secretary. If he is so inclined he might answer your questions..."
Vienna April 4th 1604
Blutgasse was the site of a Templar massacre approximately three centuries ago. How apt that an organization dealing in blood would trade out of this street. I found the house as easily as the nurse had said and I knocked seven times. A small window opened at the top and I saw a pair of lavender crystal eyes, but before I could say anything the door opened and I was pulled inside. I was shown down a thin long corridor and into an open courtyard where I waited for several minutes before anyone turned up. I remember gazing up at the sky and realizing that the stars shone really brightly that night. They reminded me of my Vyktor. A woman arrived at the door and told me that the Secretary would see me. I was ushered into a small room filled with books and a small man with a bald crown and dirty blond hair round the sides of his head was seated behind a desk. He wore thick spectacles that made his eyes appear larger than they were but there was no disguising the crystal quality of the Afflicted iris. His was a rich honey color.
“Hans Schreiber, Secretary for the Läuse. How did you find this place, if you don’t mind my asking, Madame?”
“I’m amazed that this place has been here all this time and I haven’t been aware of it, to be honest.”
“We take great care to not be detected. Answer the question please.”
“A nurse at the Sanatorium where I keep my son told me about you.”
“Your son?” His interest was piqued for a moment, and he looked into his notebook and proceeded to write down some words.
“Yes, he is under some sort of spell, and asleep…he’s always been asleep.” I said painfully.
“But you are Afflicted! Did you bite him?”
“Bite him? God no! He was born this way.”
“Born, you say?”
“Yes, born in the traditional sense, Herr Schreiber. We are Afflicted like you, do you not see?”
He looked at me with a deadpan expression from his desk without standing and with his lips pressed into a hard line for some moments and then he continued to speak.
“Do you kill for your food, Madame?”
“Yes of course.”
“Then you are not like us.”
“You do not kill?”
“Most certainly not! If we were to kill our livestock we would run out of a blood source very quickly, and we would no doubt get caught and our organization closed down. Instead we operate underground and do not do anything illegal. We simply encourage the underprivileged Non-Afflicted to come and donate their blood to us on a quarterly basis. We pay well and we provide a good meal whenever they need it and our livestock are maintained happy so they come back again and again.”
“How do you ensure their silence?”
“Gold. How else? Plus they know that if we are found out their easy source of both food and money will dry up. Now won’t you please sit down and tell me about your son? I have heard of Afflicted children and their special properties, but have never met anyone with a living child such as yourself. I assure you that everything we discuss shall remain in the strictest confidence.”
“I have a few questions myself.”
“Normally I would not have taken the time to even meet with you, let alone discuss our operation, but I believe we can be of mutual assistance.”
“Are you in charge here?”
“Most certainly not, but as the Secretary I do run things.”
“Who is in charge?”
At this question he blinked a few times through his impossibly thick spectacles and adopted the deadpan expression once again.
“Won’t you tell me what your questions are, sister…?”
“Theodora Ehefrau Von Vyktor.”
“Interesting moniker you have adopted. You’re clearly not from these parts by your naive use of the language. Your husband is the father of the child I presume?”
“He was yes.”
“Departed is he?”
“Sadly so.”
“I will presume you loved him dearly, in order to adopt his name as your own.”
“Deeply.”
“Fascinating! This man…?”
“My husband?”
“Yes, yes your husband…” He said the word ‘husband’ with a tint of mockery. “Very well Madame, I shall not dwell as this is a subject that clearly causes you pain. Was the child conceived in the…as you say…traditional method?”
“Of course.”
“And how many times did intercourse take place prior to his conception?”
“What sort of question is that? I have no idea how many times, we didn’t keep score sir! I’ve had enough of these ridiculous questions! I'm leaving as you seem to ask more than you are willing to answer. I know a time waster when I see one!” The Secretary was beginning to vex me now.
“Of course, of course, do forgive me, I didn’t mean to cause offense, I was merely being clerical. I profusely apologize, sometimes a few centuries in the same job have a tendency to ingrain into one’s personality. I apologize once again.” And with that he got up and offered me a sherry glass filled with blood, “extremely young blood of the finest quality, I believe it will settle your nerves. Now please won’t you tell me why you’re here?” The blood was indeed excellent, perhaps the finest I’d ever tried.
“Good isn’t it?” His eyes rejoiced. “Blue as they get. It's from the bastard child of a very high member of the nobility, though neither the child nor the father knows of each other’s existence. The father, a member of the Imperial family, has a penchant for women of the night and she of course had no idea of her client’s pedigree. Don’t you just love irony? The child is a regular member of our livestock, and I must admit we use his blood in-house only.” He let out an impish little giggle and took a sip from his own glass.
“I have recently begun to notice that I feel tired and spe
nt, much like before I was Afflicted. My skin has suddenly begun to thin and gather and if I didn’t know any better I would say I am beginning to age.”
He had the deadpan look on his face again, scented with a little disbelief from what I could see behind his thick lenses.
“How long ago were you Afflicted Madame?”
“I was Afflicted during the reign of Emperor Alexius III, I think the year was 1195?”
“Then you have passed your four hundredth birthday?”
“I believe I have, yes.”
“Then there is the answer to your question.”
“What do you mean?”
“You are aware of our life cycle are you not?”
“Life cycle? Why must you speak in riddles sir?”
The deadpan expression returned once again, only this time it was slightly more sympathetic. He let out a deep sigh.
“What do you mean by life cycle?” I insisted. “The priest never said anything about a life cycle in his books!”
Bathory's Secret: When All The Time In The World Is Not Enough (Affliction Vampires Book 1) Page 18