The First

by Michael Santana

  Another vampire, this one of Asian descent, looked to his master for permission to charge. He never received it. Instead, the fake me, motioned for him to halt.

  I had to admit he did look kingly as he moved in front of the other group. The other three bowed back making way for this false one.

  “I see you have met De Luca,” he said as he continued closer.

  With false confidence, he moved forward. His steps, trying to look casual, were precise and calculated. I watched as his hands clenched into fists and released as he came even closer. I prepared myself for his attack. I was positive he would not make the same mistake of his predecessor by charging in blindly. He stopped about twenty paces from me.

  “I must admit I am a bit stunned at your actions today. First, you kill a servant of the Lord. Then you kill one of mine. How is one supposed to react to this? Even one as merciful as me has to take offense. The line must be drawn somewhere. Now, I could just assume you didn’t know whose land you walked on. I could also assume that you were only defending yourself when you slew poor Heinrich here. I have never been much for assumption though, so why don’t you tell me who you are and what you are doing on my land.” He said.

  I stared at this mock version of myself thinking how justified I would be in killing him. Now for humans, I feel no need to justify. They are insignificant. Yet, one of my own, my children, there must be a good reason. My eyes gravitated to his chest as he waited for my answer. His neck was adorned with the deepest red ruby encircled by emeralds, set in a gold necklace. I had once worn a necklace just like this one. A necklace that Irisi took from my neck the last time I saw her.

  When no answer to his query came, he once again started to advance towards me slowly, carefully. Then his body stiffened as his nose appeared to sniff the air around him. I watched his eyes dart back and forth in their sockets. His fist then clenched tightly. His nails dug into his flesh drawing blood that seemed to excite his entourage. He mouthed the word as opposed to voicing it. “Cinnamon.”

  His eyes steadied in his head and stared straight ahead at me. I could hear Manuela and Adrian inside debating what would happen next. A comprehension seemed to fall over him in the next few seconds. During this time, he took in every inch of me, as if later he was going to draw a portrait from memory. The contempt that had masked his face faded away, replaced by something that looked like admiration. I couldn’t tell for sure.

  “I am called Father Alejandro,” I said loudly enough for his friends to hear.” I have had many names before this one. I am sure there must be at least one you would recognize. Then softly I asked him, “Shall I list them for you?”

  Calmly he started again.

  “There is no need for that. I’m sure your intentions are not malicious or are they?” He asked worriedly.

  “No, not at all,” I said. “My friend and I were passing through and were told Manzili resides in these mountains. Is that true?”

  I watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he debated his answer. He looked into my eyes woefully expecting the worst.

  “Yes, I am Manzili,” he said barely controlling his trembling body.

  Manuela hissed from the shadows of the church at his last statement. Against my earlier wishes, she flew to my side glaring at the imposter. I was surprised she had stayed in the shadows that long.

  “The boy?” I asked her.

  Her hand came from behind her back, firmly clasped around the wrist of Adrian. His joint was swollen and purple, probably from nearly being jerked out of its socket when she flew to me. “This is Manuela, my friend, and traveling companion. I would ask that she be shown the same hospitality that is offered to me.”

  “Of course, of course, and maybe you two can tell me how it is you can enter the church and wear the symbols.”

  “He could be your twin” Manuela whispered, “It’s uncanny.”

  I nodded in agreement then turned back to him.

  “In time,” I told him. “I’m sure we both have many, many questions regarding all sorts of things.”

  At this point, I turned and whispered in Adrian’s ear.

  “You live at my pleasure. Do not forget this. You serve me now. Do you understand?” I asked him.

  His eyes left me and turned to the faux me. Seeing the subjection he showed, Adrian then turned back to me and nodded.

  “I will see you again soon priest,” I said, making careful enunciation of his new title.

  I looked back to the impersonator.

  “I would like to see where you live,” I told him.

  Still keeping his composure, he replied.

  “Yes, I was just about to invite the two of you to join us.”

  Their master’s subjection confused them, and the other vampires looked to one another for answers. Yet unlike the Gall, they waited to be told they had to, before committing suicide at my hands.

  Manuela and I followed them up the mountain to a secluded villa overlooking the town. It was a grand home, fit for royalty. I had to admit I liked the other Me’s taste in decoration. He had lived better than I had ever thought of living. Where I snuck my meals under the cover of dark, hiding my existence from the people I fed upon, he lorded over them. Red velvet curtains trimmed with braided silver, lined the windows and walls alike.

  There were a few humans dressed in the white gowns we had seen earlier. Their ages and sizes ranged. They did share one common trait. Each had carried their own set of tiny punctures in their necks and or wrist. They walked around in a daze from the loss of blood from constant feedings.

  You could barely tell the difference between the ones offered to us in the church earlier and the ones that walked among us here. The blessings he offered them were merely little slices of death.

  The two of us looked around amazed at what we were seeing. Where we had donned costumes of the clergy to move stealthily about humans, he openly lived among them and they fed him.

  It is true I had lived almost two thousand years. This child in a fraction of that time had truly lived as much, if not more. He had done it out in the open using the humans against one another. Through his manipulations, they hunted their own, not him.

  Even in some of my more extravagant personas, I never let humans who weren’t soon meant for death into my home.

  As soon as he entered, a hush fell over the house. Its master was home. Two young girls came to him and removed the flowing cape that had been attached to his robes. A woman of about thirty stopped and kneeled at his throne-like chair that sat in the center of the room.

  At his urging, Manuela and I sat in seats beside him. A young woman came and sat between us offering one of her wrists to each of us. We both politely declined. Considering the villages penchant for drugging blood, we would feed from those that are unprepared. I had decided that I might have use for this Manzili after all. I just hadn’t figured out yet what it was.

  At his command, the woman that kneeled in front of him, came forward and sat across his lap. Her head leaned slightly to the right with her neck exposed. His teeth sank gently in her vein, but his eyes never left me. I am sure he worried that at any moment I would leap across the woman and rip out his throat. I would be lying if I said that the thought hadn’t crossed my mind numerous times.

  “So Manzili, they tell me you are the first vampire. Can you tell me how you came to be? I asked sincerely. “I’m very curious you see. I have met very few vampires in my life, two I made and one I killed.”

  “Leave us!” He commanded of the room.

  The little room emptied in a matter of seconds. When only the three of us were left he looked to me.

  “It is said he smells like cinnamon,” he said almost too low to hear.

  I could tell he was waiting for a response and once again, he got none. Manuela’s quiet growls rumbled in my ear nearest her. The quiet tremble calmed me, as
every instinct still demanded I tear into him.

  “Do you know who I am?” I asked him.

  “Yes, I believe I do,” He said shakily.

  “Are you sure?” I said leaning back against the seat I had taken.

  His head slowly nodded up and down.

  “I’m positive. She described you well and mentioned the cinnamon smell.”

  “She, who is she?” Manuela asked from beside me.

  “When I saw you standing in the church I knew. I never commanded anyone to advance on you. He did that on his own accord for his own reasons.”

  “Who is she?” Manuela asked a second time.

  “She is Irisi.” I said turning to meet her gaze.

  A smile crossed her lips at the mention of Irisi’s name. She now stared more intently at the imposter, her obsidian eyes glinting as the gas lamp’s flames flickered in them.

  His head rose as I spoke her name and an honest smile came over him.

  “She spoke so highly of you. I believe the only reason she chose me was my resemblance to you. There were times she would shave my head to make the resemblance even stronger. I didn’t mind it, really I didn’t. I loved her long before she made me,” he claimed.

  “Where is she now?” Manuela asked interrupting him mid thought.

  “I’m not sure. I haven’t seen her in about seventy-five years.” He replied.

  “She still lives though?” Manuela asked.

  “Yes, of that I’m sure. She is probably terrorizing some countryside as we speak.” He said laughing.

  He spoke with such admiration and love when he spoke of Irisi.

  “How did you know I was talking about Irisi?” He asked.

  “The necklace around your neck belongs to me. She tore it from my neck as the men pulled us apart while making our escape. We were both severely wounded and very vulnerable for quite a while.” I explained.

  “She never told me the story behind it.” He said as his hand reflexively rose to it.

  “I have seen that necklace in many of the sketches of you. It is absolutely beautiful.” Manuela said to me.

  “If you would like it back, I will give it to you.” He said as his shaking hands rose to the clasp of the necklace.

  “No.” I said. “It was a gift to you and you wear it well. Who were you before you became me?” I asked him.

  “Will you kill me?” He asked out of nowhere.

  “I haven’t decided yet.” I replied honestly. “You will be the first to know.” I assured him with a smile. “Now tell me how you came to wear my necklace and my name.”

  He spoke for hours telling me the highlights of his short life and the four hundred and sixty plus years after his death. He had been a street urchin when she first saw him. He told how Irisi had found him and showered him with extravagant gifts. She gave him coin to buy nice things including a house and a stable of horses. How she visited him for about three years. How she finally revealed herself to him. He spoke of the years they spent together and how he had heard my story many times. The fact, that I was so loved by Irisi, had made him feel he knew me, since that was why she had chosen him. He reminded her of me.

  I couldn’t fault her for that. I saved Manuela because of her looking so much like Keeza. That is where the similarities ended with Manuela though. They were as different as summer and winter days. The night that she left him in search of new adventure, she had given him the necklace, my necklace.

  “I took your name because it was the name of the one she loved. I wanted so much to be that to her. I meant no disrespect; I had never thought I would meet you. In truth, part of me wanted you to be just a figment of her imagination. In her eyes, you were so perfect. I wanted to be you.”

  I had watched as over the hours Manuela’s demeanor had changed. She went from wanting to tear this imposter to shreds, to feeling empathy to his suffering.

  Every now and then, I would look at her as she dabbed a crimson tear from her eyes. Although, I didn’t feel the overwhelming urge to hug and console him as she did, I could tell that every word he spoke was true.

  He continued his tale well into the night. He told of how he came to the village and what he had done to make the villagers comply. I had to admit it really had been a remarkable feat.

  Manuela listened in silence as he spoke, hanging on every word. I, on the other hand, had other thoughts on my mind. I rose from the chair and kissed Manuela on the cheek.

  ”Now I feel the need for a hunt. Can I be assured that Manuela will be safe here?” I asked.

  His head bobbed up and down.

  “Of course,” he said. “My home is her home.”

  Manuela cut her eyes at me and smiled just enough to bear her teeth. I could understand her frustration. In all our years together, I had never treated her more subservient than I had that day.

  “I will return before the sun rises,” I said and left the villa.

  The nighttime sky was becoming cold. I knew this because I could see it in the air. My victims had all made telltale little clouds with their gasps for breath as they clung so tightly to life.

  Their blood pumped a fraction of a beat slower than normal, not much, but enough to notice. My mind spun with questions and impossible answers as I fed. When death had taken one, I immediately found another. All an all I think I fed at least twenty times that night. I crept in windows and lurked in the streets shadows. Men, women and children were all on the menu. I needed all types for what I had planned. Twice I had to stop and find more victims. Slowly, carefully, I bent them in all sorts of odd shapes to complete my masterpiece. Some had to have limbs removed so as not to look sloppy. I wanted there to be no mistake in the message or the messenger.

  When the town awoke the next morning, they found the name Benedictus Tertius Decimus spelled out in the bodies and body parts of their friends and family. The incoming battalion would surely recognize the name of their Pope.

  Convincing Adrian to give me the drug he used in the wine was a simple one. I offered his life for the Vampire’s that had been terrorizing his town for the last thirty years. I told him how he could be a shining hero to the bereft village and the Catholic Church alike.

  He gladly took the exchange imagining the honors and titles that they would bestow upon him.

  He hadn’t realized as I had, what the Church would do to him for helping to enable their most sought-after foe. He would be severely punished for his part in the kidnappings and murders of the children at the hands of the fake Manzili. Even though he only helped the older priest for three out of the thirty, they flayed his skin from his body and then the body was drawn and quartered.

  Back in the villa, I slipped the drug into the carafes of wine that the” Faux Manzili’s blessed ones” were drinking from. I made sure all partook, save the one I pretended to talk to. Upon seeing that I had returned the imposter stood.

  “Alejandro come join us for a toast.” He said beaming.

  I rose with my companion and grabbed one for him. She was a random young lady that I had seen drinking the wine. She softly giggled as I swept her up. The woman was heavily drugged, but its effects had not taken hold yet. I grinned from ear to ear as I brought the two ladies to him. Manuela was shocked when I told her that this toast wasn’t for her, but the two Manzilis past and present.

  “I know you have made a pact with the town, but I wish to finish her. I want to feel her heart stop. I want to taste that delectable last drop. Will you be able to handle the townspeople if two went missing? “ I asked.

  His arrogance took control as he declared he could.

  “They live at my pleasure.” He said, mimicking what I said to Adrian earlier.

  With a smile that split his face from ear to ear, he pulled his girl into him and bit down. I gave him a reciprocal smile and did the same. We both stared into one another’s eyes as we pul
led deep from our victims. He didn’t start to feel the effects of the drug, until the girl was near death. He raised his head from her throat and stared at me a second. His mouth slack and open spilled its remaining contents down his chest. His head fell back and to the side. I waited for his eyes to close and for him to sleep but that never happened.

  He didn’t slip into a drug-induced coma as I expected he would. He was completely aware, but unable to move as I too had once been. The irony wasn’t lost on me as I went to Manuela and prepared her for what was coming.

  She hadn’t understood what I had done or why I had done it. Neither of us knew, but this was a plan put in motion almost five hundred years before, and I was just now playing my part.

  The sounds of thunder echoed as three hundred-plus horse-backed men disrupted the anguished howls of the town. I am sure it didn’t take the people long to tell the newcomers, who their monster was, and for the newcomers to realize how close they were to their long sought-after prize.

  Then I am almost positive they would travel to talk to the newly promoted priest. He of course would tell them exactly where the villa was, a villa in which they would find and kill the drugged vampire who had chosen to steal my name.

  We watched from the adjacent forest as they approached the building. They came from everywhere. The men surrounded the villa, taking strategic positions blocking all paths of escape. I could have told them that their attempts at stealth weren’t necessary. The vampire and his associates would be very compliant in their drugged stupor.

  They stormed the villa from all sides. It only took minutes before the men’s shouts of triumph disrupted the songs of the forest. They emerged moments later, head in hand. After confirmation from the Papal investigators and the townspeople that it was indeed Manzili, they lifted the head high in the air in a symbol of triumph.

  Manuela and I watched as the villa burned to the ground. The golden flames engulfed the building effectively shielding it from our gaze. Screams echoed from inside the blaze as the three remaining vampires perished in the inferno.