by S Mays
Plush chairs lined each side of the table, cushioned with what looked like red velvet. The wood furniture was so dark, it was almost black. Gleaming silverware and reflective plates awaited each diner. Polished candelabras and other decor were spaced every few feet, where room allowed. Everything in the room appeared ancient, as if hewn or forged by master artisans perhaps centuries ago.
Most seats were empty. The table was set for ten people near the fire. Sverre recognized Commander Swift, who sat at the far end of the table, to the right of the large chair on the end. To his left was a beautiful woman. She had pale white skin and long dark hair. She wore a body-hugging dress with a fur collar. Sverre was led to the seat beside her. Isabelle bade him farewell, then left the room.
He suddenly felt very vulnerable. Formal affairs were not his forte. To make things worse, he was supposed to ruin this one in some way without attacking Dragos so that Jessica could lead his mother to safety. The roaring fire now felt as if it was a small sun bearing down on him. He dabbed his head with a napkin. Dragos hadn’t even arrived yet, and Sverre felt like he was about to have a panic attack. His usual bravado had deserted him when he needed it most. Glancing around the table, he took note of those gathered.
Handsome men and beautiful women — all of them undead vampires. Each acknowledged him in turn, but their greetings rang hollow. They attempted to hide their contempt for him behind a welcoming façade. He looked at the grand chair at the end of the table, wondering when Dragos would be joining them. There were two empty chairs farther down the table, opposite each other. Who else was coming to dinner?
He felt the stare of someone upon him. Turning, he met the gaze of the unknown woman whom he’d noticed when he first entered. Her stare bored into him, but she did not speak. Sniffing him, she leaned slightly closer.
“You smell of fear, young one,” she remarked with an accent Sverre could not place. Her demeanor was one of a predator circling around hapless prey that knew it was doomed.
“Why, thank you. That’s my new cologne, Desperation,” Sverre answered.
She puzzled for a moment, unsure what he meant.
“I’m kidding. I think most humans would be a little afraid while in the core of a vampire lord’s castle surrounded by people who would like to have him for dinner,” he explained.
She smiled then, but instead of calming him, it had the opposite effect. Humor was not something that would work on her, Sverre decided.
“Yes, you are like a rabbit that has fallen into a den of wolves. Are they hungry? Will they rip apart the rabbit for sport?”
“Maybe they will adopt the rabbit and raise it as one of their own?” Sverre offered.
“No, I don’t think so.”
“By the way, I’m Sverre Walker. It’s a pleasure to meet you…”
She held out her hand, offering the back of it to Sverre. “I am known as Tarja. I, like you, am a guest of Lord Dalca.”
Sverre took her hand, unsure of what to do. He leaned forward and kissed the back of it after considering shaking it. Tarja gave no indication whether this was appropriate or not.
“So, you and Varulf are together?”
“We were.” She did not explain further.
A finely-dressed man who stood at the doorway to the left of the fireplace interrupted the conversations of everyone gathered. “Ladies and gentlemen, your host for the evening — Lord of…” He paused, receiving a visual cue from the unseen Dragos. “Ladies and gentlemen, I humbly present Lord Dragos Dalca.”
Dragos entered the room with a flourish. His piercing smile disarmed Sverre instantly. An impossible creature of immense power who could kill him with a thought stood before him, but Sverre could only admire the man. Sverre felt impeccable in the suit he was wearing, but Dalca was a rock star, a fashion model and a CEO rolled into one. He felt an unusual attraction to the man. Was this some power of Dragos’? He looked at those gathered around him. They applauded and smiled, standing from their seats. Looking down, he was shocked to learn he was doing the same. Dragos motioned for those gathered to be seated. Once they were, he sat.
“I’m sorry, I do not have my usual patience to hear all of my titles announced tonight. Let us forgo those formalities. Dear friends, I am extremely pleased tonight. At long last, Mr. Walker has joined us. Many of you know this young man has been a fascination of mine for months now. He is truly a marvel of a man,” Dragos said, his look upon Sverre unwavering. Sverre nodded in return, unable to think of anything to say.
Dragos clapped once, signaling the start of the meal. Servants immediately poured into the room, bringing bowls of soup and bread. Sverre wondered if the fare was going to be something gruesome like skinned human, eyeball soup, blood pudding, or haggis.
“Relax, my young friend. I’ve tailored this meal to your tastes. I apologize, but I’ve kept tabs on you ever since you joined the Order. This banquet is for you, to celebrate your choice to join me tonight,” Dragos said reassuringly.
Sverre looked down as the lid was raised from his soup. It looked like normal soup, a creamy white color. It smelled wonderful.
“She-crab soup. I believe it is your favorite?” Dragos said, motioning for Sverre to taste it.
Sverre dipped his spoon into the bowl, then brought it cautiously to his mouth. “It’s — it’s fantastic!” he exclaimed.
“I knew you would enjoy it,” Dragos said, indicating to those gathered to begin dining.
Sverre looked around the table at the other guests. They glared at him with hatred masked with synthetic smiles. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the attention Dragos was giving him or his choice in food. He focused his gaze on his soup.
Dragos noticed the tension in the room.
“Mr. Walker is my favored guest. Show him the same respect you would show me. It is unusual to have one of his kind among us, but that does not mean we abandon civility. I’m sorry, Mr. Walker. My associates and companions are unused to many humans in the castle. Outside of… meeting our needs.”
Sverre noticed that several of those gathered flashed him half-hidden fanged smiles at the mention of “needs.” Dragos sighed as if he was having to admonish children yet again. Everyone gathered took notice, turning back to their meals and conversations.
“I wouldn’t think your kind would enjoy human food,” Sverre remarked, finishing his bowl.
“No, we enjoy everything humans enjoy. Food, sleep, making love. Writing, reading, traveling. We are not so different. It’s an unfortunate side effect that we must consume human blood to continue our existence. Foods like this soup and the accompanying courses are mere excess to us. We gain no nourishment from them. It would be like a diet of celery or water for yourself. We can enjoy the taste of such things as this soup or wine, but they are more like seasoning or spice to us,” Dragos said, swirling the wine around in his glass before sipping it. Every move was graceful, as if practiced thousands of times. He controlled the very air around him. Not a hair was out of place. Was he affecting Sverre’s willpower and perception somehow? Sverre focused, trying to block out anything that might be influencing him. Dragos smiled.
“I’m sorry. It is an ability of my kind. You have probably read of the attraction humans have to vampires. Like moths to the flame. It’s enhancing everything you perceive about me and the others gathered here. The longer you are in our presence, the more enamored you will become. Given enough time, you would do anything for us. The only variable is your willpower. We can control the ability to a degree, but it is always in effect.”
Sverre couldn’t shake the fuzziness from his mind, but he noticed there was a new plate of food before him. He dug into it with zest. Wasn’t there something he was supposed to be doing? He couldn’t remember. The food was too delicious, and Dragos was a marvel to behold. He was hungry for more food and for the words that poured from Dragos. He lost track of time. Which course was this? Was he tipsy from the wine? He’d only had two glasses, or so he thought. He was having a wonderfu
l time with his new friends, at least in his mind. With the exception of Dragos, everyone in the room considered him with contempt and disdain, just as they had at the start of the dinner. The only thing that had changed was Sverre’s perception.
The herald who had introduced Dragos entered the room, whispering something to the vampire lord. Dragos stood before announcing to all gathered, “My friends, we have another special surprise. I was afraid the reunion would be delayed, but thanks to the renowned tracking abilities of our Cen’Ful allies, the celebration will go on as originally planned!”
Two women entered the room, led by several guards. They looked familiar to Sverre.
“I’d like to introduce the legendary Jessica Luvkrafft and dear Mary Walker, Sverre’s mother.”
Sverre’s mind cleared instantly. He looked from his mother to Jessica, at first with confusion, then with panic. They were led to the two empty seats. Jessica refused to sit. She looked at Sverre pleadingly, her eyes asking, “What happened?”
Sverre looked down at the table before him. A half-eaten dessert was evidence the feast was concluding. Hadn’t he been eating soup only a few moments ago? He looked at the fire. It was noticeably dimmer.
“The timing could not be more perfect. I’ve gathered my allies and friends here for a Grandiose Denouement,” Dragos explained.
The guests gathered murmured excitedly at the announcement. Sverre looked at Jessica for explanation. She could only offer a shrug. His eyes settled on his mother. He wanted to jump across the table, knocking the gaudy decorations aside, and hug her tightly.
Her glistening eyes reflected the roaring fire. He could tell she was relieved and terrified at the same time. His fear grew as well. Any single foe in the room would prove a difficult fight, even if he and Jessica worked together.
“For the few in the room who may not know to what I am referring, I shall explain,” Dragos said, nodding toward the humans. “We vampires live unbearably long lives. If we can survive for a certain span, we become immortal. I’ve lived countless lifetimes. Life loses its luster faster than you can imagine. Someone such as myself has accumulated more wealth than I could ever spend. I’ve done everything life has to offer. Seen almost everything on this small planet, from scaling the frozen peaks of the highest mountains to walking along the depths of the deepest seas. My strength has grown beyond imagination. I am not bragging, but merely stating fact.
“Time is cyclical. It is difficult for humans to see due to their short lifespans, but events repeat themselves again and again. For someone such as myself, this repetition is maddening. To combat the madness, our kind developed what we call Denouements.
“To pass the time, we set in motion elaborate schemes spanning months, years, decades or longer. Many of them fail to come to fruition, just as any plan does. When they succeed or are on the verge of success, we may gather our kin together to explain the premise, the strategy, and finally, the results. The Denouement is the final act of our play, the explanation of all that has occurred. Think of it as ‘the villain of the movie explains his grand plan in order to showcase his genius.’ I have hundreds in motion as we speak, but one that I would consider above all others. I believe it dwarfs any that my rivals are plotting. This plan involves you, Sverre, and how you will help me become the first being to bring about world peace.”
CHAPTER FORTY
Sverre glanced around the room, puzzled by the announcement. “I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong guy. I’m not going to help you do anything.”
“Fortunately, this will require no cooperation or thought from you on the matter. It’s completely out of your hands. But first, let me begin my tale,” Dragos said, pacing in front of the fireplace. He paused. “No, let us adjourn to my throne room. The acoustics and ambiance are better there. Ms. Walker and Ms. Luvkrafft, would you care for anything?”
Both women shook their heads in the negative.
Several guards moved to usher each of the humans out of the room. Sverre then noticed Jessica’s feet and hands were bound. The cables attaching the shackles extended and shortened automatically based on the input of a nearby guard. The cables attaching her ankles together lengthened so she could walk again.
“I’m afraid Ms. Luvkrafft has been a rather difficult guest during her brief stay here. The trail of bodies of my guards and subordinates speaks volumes about her abilities. However, no one evades the tracking skills of my werewolves for long,” Dragos boasted, leading the entourage out of the room. The hallway from the banquet hall led out to the grand hall. Sverre recognized the familiar paintings from earlier.
The large suits of armor in front of the giant doors remained motionless. “These are my favorite automatons. Nothing replaces properly trained warriors, but I have been promised that each of these is equal to a modern tank. After witnessing their combat prowess in the arena, I am inclined to agree. However, Ms. Luvkrafft has installed a nasty virus into our security systems, so it will take a bit longer before they are back online. At some point, I would love to know how you did that, my dear,” Dragos stated, turning to look over his shoulder at Jessica. She remained silent.
The doors swung wide, revealing servants quickly moving plush chairs into place in front of the throne. They hurried away as if they were roaches exposed to a bright light. Dragos stepped up to his throne, then paused to motion for those gathered to sit before sitting himself. He motioned again. Servants hustled throughout the audience, offering refreshments.
“Allow me to begin my tale. The first chapter began several hundred years ago, not so long ago. I believe it was the early seventeenth century. I am certain it was in Madrid. You have to pardon me. After so many centuries, my memory is not what it used to be. At the time, I wandered from town to town and city to city enjoying all life had to offer. I was an old vampire by this time, but the world still held unlimited wonders. It was not a small world, like today. Travel was slow, news was slow, and life was slow. I had heard of magnificent plays and performances in Spain at the time. Indeed, unknown to me, there was a renaissance at the time, what is now known as the Spanish Golden Age of Theater. I cannot count the times my —” Dragos paused in the middle of his story, interrupted by a droning noise of unknown origin.
He looked about the room, annoyed. Echoes of a slight rumbling reverberated throughout the room. Excellent acoustics, indeed. Another loud snore caused everyone to turn toward Sverre, dozing in his chair. “Ahem!” Dragos cleared his throat, irritated. Sverre’s head flopped to the side slightly. Dragos clapped his hands together, creating a sonic boom akin to a shotgun blast. Sverre fell out of his chair before clambering back into it, eyes wide with fear and embarrassment.
Dragos composed himself before continuing, indignant. “I will skip ahead. Some of our guests are apparently very weary. While attending one of these performances, I spied a woman of unmatched skill and grace. I wept; her beauty and talent were so breathtaking. However, she had a beau that I was unaware of. A violent, bestial man, filled with rage and jealousy. Of course, such people mean little to me. Minor entertainment at best. I was wrong in this instance. Our combat spilled from my lady’s bedroom into the street, and through several broken doors, adjacent dwellings and even into a tavern, which collapsed from our battle. I pulled his broken body from the wreckage, amazed that he still lived. I had never met such a human warrior in all of my years.”
Dragos shook his head as if reliving his past astonishment and disbelief at the time. “Certainly, I had met and destroyed many supernatural beings in my travels over my long lifetime, but this was a mere human. I tested and probed him throughout the night and into the next morn, using all knowledge of science and medicine available at the time, but I was unable to deduce the source of his power. I concluded it must be spiritual in nature. I found a seer of some renown within the city. She meditated before him, attempting to read his aura. Initially, she was performing her usual stage act for the commoners, but then she saw something. Utilizing her talents in earnest,
her sight shifted into the realm of the spiritual.
“She proclaimed that this man had a strong, unusual aura. I could tell her curiosity was aroused. She called to her ancestors to help her see the truth. I could feel something unknown entering the room, which cooled, becoming unusually calm. Closing her eyes, she began chanting spells and prayers in low tones, barely audible. Her eyes burst open. She shrieked in horror, maddened by whatever lurked outside my vision. She screamed about an army of dead, of possession. She dashed from the room, incoherently rambling and yelling about the souls of heroes. I intercepted her, drinking a portion of her blood, then willed her to forget the incident. I hoped I could see a small fraction of what she could see by utilizing her life essence. It had worked on occasion in the past. I quickly returned to the warrior.
“His aura! It was even more beautiful than the wench’s physical beauty. He held such power within him. I was awed, unable to perceive it fully. I vowed to make him mine. I bit deeply into his neck, unable to contain my lust and thirst. His head was almost torn from his body due to my careless frenzy. For a brief moment, I could feel his power flowing into me. I was ascending. I cannot explain the feeling or what was happening. Then it was gone. His aura faded along with his life. I felt a renewed energy and power, but it was nothing compared to that brief initial moment. It was merely the usual invigoration felt when feeding upon a strong human. I howled in despair, fleeing the city, killing anyone in my path. The loss of something so precious drove me mad for a short period.
“I scoured the world for more like this man, but it was an impossible task. Many exceptional warriors were brought before me by my agents, but none had the Gift. I have never stopped looking, researching, obsessing. Yet, at long last, here he is. Here is the panacea for my woes.” Dragos smiled sincerely, gesturing at Sverre.