Aleron: Book One of Strigoi Series (Stringoi Series) (30 page)

Many moons had come and gone since Pandora’s departure. I alone mastered this young yet powerful brood, and though I was essentially alone, Eliza never left my side. The first of my children born to me, she had given birth to all of the others. All of us shared a deep connection of the mind and heart. I could speak to my children through their thoughts, and they could call out to me through distance and necessity. I learned my desires would never be denied by them. They existed for one purpose above all others, to do my will.

Their devotion to me was overshadowed by one thing and one thing only, the thirst. Raya was especially keen at luring her prey to her. She was able to control the minds of many at once. Sometimes she would control an entire dinner party as a master puppeteer would, pulling the strings, controlling the limbs and thoughts of all those who played their part in her ghastly theatrical performance. Sakina would often provide the climax and denouement to Raya’s plays. The two of them seemed inseparable in death as they were in life. “Twin killers,” Eliza called them.

Sinaa was an entirely different matter. Upon waking, Sinaa would immediately disappear into the darkness of the alleyways of Thebes. Her victims would never hear her footsteps. She would simply snatch them from life and thrust them into a world of succulent pain. A proficient solitary hunter she was. Eliza was often surprised by the sight of Sinaa when she returned to our home, naked and covered in gore, wearing fleshy souvenirs from her nightly encounter. Her once beautiful hair would drip with her victims’ blood, her hands and feet painted in blush, as was her face, save her yellowish orange eyes. In mortal life, Sinaa had been a teacher of literature. In death, she taught only one thing: suffering.

Sinaa wouldn’t immediately put her prey out of their misery, so she was often forced to slaughter everyone in sight in an effort to maintain our secret existence. Her brutality left a barbarous impression on anyone unfortunate enough to discover the result of her game. The reports would classify the deaths as a monstrous attack by some unknown animal.

The locals of Thebes and her surrounding townships were in an uproar, for innocence was lost as my daughter continued to plague them.
Whispers of a grizzly beast that attacked at night were on their quivering lips. Fear and paranoia gripped the region, and at sundown, nary a soul could be found. Yes, Sinaa was depraved, indeed.

One evening I followed her, staying just out of her psychic reach, for without solitude, she wouldn’t hunt. Her movements were graceful, her speed of travel across the lands to Thebes, without detection. As she propelled herself by leap, the leaves on the ground found it hard to determine the rhythm of her steps.

She came to an abrupt stop just outside of the palace of Luxor, which was enclosed by acres of land where dozens of animals were housed. Four large wooden barns contained stables where the animals slept. One by one she would gorge herself with sheep and goats, sinking her teeth into their throats, suffocating them while draining them. Her mouth, neck, breast, torso, arms, all of her, down to her feet, would be covered in the animals’ blood and hair.

Horses in the stable became restless, bucking and banging against the stalls’ thick wooden doors and walls. My vampire ears could hear the cracking of the horses’ bones while she relished in them. The clanging of the locks against their hooves woke the estate keeper.

A light came on from the small house in the back of the estate near the stable. I flew to a nearby tree and watched as the keeper crept over to the stable’s rear entrance with a shotgun in his hand, carefully stepping over bloody carcasses of sheep and goats. The beast he sought was in the stable, and he meant to shoot it and rid the property of the monster.

He entered the stable and saw what appeared to be the back of a woman bending over a horse, whose back legs were awkwardly and sporadically flinching as it lay on its side at her feet. He heard the sound of ripping flesh and gnawing bone, though he didn’t quite know what to make of it. The keeper took sure, quiet steps toward Sinaa and her meal. She knew he was there.

“What the hell are you doing?” he yelled.

The noise grew louder as the other horses tried desperately to flee their stables, some kicking powerfully with their hind legs, others banging against latches with their front legs. Sinaa stood slowly, the legs and neck of the fallen horse twitching with echoes of life it had once possessed.

The sight of her dripping in blood rapidly evaporated the keeper’s confidence. He nervously raised his gun, fired a shot from the barrel, and a deafening boom trumped the noises made by the horses’ agonizing protests. The buckshot hit its target square on her back.

Sinaa didn’t flinch. She stood tall. With her back still to the keeper, she did something unexpected; she removed her garment. The gown slid down her shoulders and back, until it gathered around her feet. The buckshot had scattered into her skin, from shoulder to shoulder down her spine to her buttocks, creating a gruesome mess. Sinaa raised her head and stretched her neck and shoulders, rolling them forward. She looked like a blood goddess, covered in a thick, shiny, dark crimson that accentuated every muscle in her back. And after a deep breath, the buckshot began to resurface and fall to the ground. Then the wounds began to rapidly close and heal.

The keeper’s mouth fell open as his eyes witnessed a scene that his mind refused to accept. Sinaa began to turn toward him, and the groundsman frantically reloaded his shotgun. He fired another shot. This time Sinaa didn’t stick around to feel the annoyance. She moved swiftly, and the buckshot penetrated the dead horse’s hide in several places. Suddenly Sinaa appeared in front of the hired hand’s smoking, ultimately useless weapon. The man stood frozen.

Looking like a beautiful crazed woman, she grabbed him by the neck and slung him onto a waiting three-pronged garden fork mounted on the wall. The metal tool pierced his skin without challenge, leaving a bloody mess protruding from his chest.

Before he could comprehend his imminent death, Sinaa was on him again. He stared down at her with open mouth and pleading child eyes. His eyes filled with tears as he witnessed Sinaa wipe the end of the fork, smear the blood over her face, and then tongue her fingers clean. The keeper’s arms jerked in reflex to his brain telling him to act. When Sinaa ripped his right arm off completely, the gun slipped out of his left hand, crashing to the barn floor. After allowing the blood to drip into her mouth, Sinaa tossed the arm toward the dead horse and ripped off the keeper’s other arm. He desperately hoped for death, and finally he was granted his wish. Sinaa tore into his throat and drained what life
remained. She offered an ungodly shriek of satisfaction as she surveyed the carnage caused by her own hand. She exited the stable, leaving the spared animals still in their heightened state of agitation, the only witnesses aside from me.

Once back in the courtyard of our home, I spoke aloud, surprising her. “You’re of grace, but you choose not to use it.”

She turned and walked toward me, her arms out. For an instant, I remembered her beauty as an immortal angel. I was drawn to her as I was drawn to all of my children. Her naked body was painted in rouge. I took her arms and led her to the stone fountain nestled in the center of the courtyard. She stepped in and began washing her arms and legs. Then she fully submerged herself.

After a few moments, she reemerged, hair slick and wet, face absent of all traces of her encounter with the animals and the groundsman. How arousing she was.

“It’s been too long since I’ve come to you, my lord.”

I accepted her passionate offering and began to kiss her, but only for a moment. I pulled her lips from mine, and I held her by her shoulders with a force she couldn’t break from.

“You would jeopardize us all for your uncontrollable thirst. Your sloppy encounters are raising suspicion about the existence of our kind. Pandora forbade you to hunt in this manner. In her absence you’ll remain faithful to her commands, for her commands are mine and the same, and you will do my bidding or suffer my ire in your resistance!”

“I leave no witnesses, my lord. Stealth remains on my side.”

“You approach in stealth, yet you leave a trail of destruction and carnage that suggests the work of a monster! How long will it be before someone sees you?”

Her eyes widened as the moonlight reflected black on her still bloodied teeth.

“You’re not immune to death. If you continue, you’ll bring death to us all!”

“Why must I hunt in the manner that pleases you?” Her tone was elevated. “We are killers! The lioness leaves tales of fleshy lust everywhere she feeds.”

“We are not animals. We are vampire! There exists no other being on this earth that should remain in stealth as we must. Darkness is our life. Exposure is our death. And they will bring that exposure to us.”

I sensed Eliza was watching us from my room window. I loosened my grip. She seized this opportunity to set herself free. She stepped back and regained herself.

“You’ll do as I command, Sinaa. I won’t ask twice.”

Sinaa then stepped toward me and softly kissed me on the side of my mouth, an act of submission. She then turned and walked into our home.

I felt anger that night, more than I’d felt for a long time. Eliza sensed this anger and waited for me. When I entered, she immediately took me into her arms and sat with me.

“She’s young, my lord. She knows not what she’s doing. She knows not the price of immortality.”

“She must change her ways! Too long has she hunted alone, without your watchful eye. Sinaa is a danger to herself and the coven. She’s a wanderer who will not survive in this manner. Before long she’ll bring mortals into our realm and expose our existence.”

“I will speak with her tomorrow, my lord. She’ll have your grace again. Now, don’t let the antics of a fledgling dissuade our passion. Lie with me. Love me.”

And so I did.

Dawn approached, and though my slumber wasn’t necessary for still a few hours, my dreams called my presence to order. I answered.

Again I was visited by Mynea, Vlad, and the voice of the unknown
ancient one. In my earlier encounters with this dialect, I was a child student without a guide. Over time and through a way unknown to me, I began to understand this forgotten language. It was more akin to memory than knowledge.

The deep, rich voice exclaimed,
Eu sint cu voi, tinerii unul. Acolo este mult trebuie sa stii. Mai mult! In timp veti descoperi mine si invata o putere care este cu mult dincolo de orice iti poti imagina
. “I’m with you, young one. There’s much to know. Much! In time you’ll discover me and learn a power far beyond any you can imagine.”

The words “young one” confirmed my belief that the originator of the voice was old, very old. This unknown vampire knew of our master. He knew of me, and thus Mynea and Pandora. In my dreams I could not see his face or his eyes, mouth, or body. I could only feel his hot breath. I could only hear words. The touch of death in him was ancient and forgotten long ago. Perhaps he was banished for being feared! But feared by whom?

The voice would come and go quickly, and my dream sequence would change instantly. Unlike most humans, we remember every detail of our slumber tales. Our dreams are doorways to ancient shared memories at times. At other times, they serve as windows into what is to come. Only a skilled vampire can arrange the visions in such a way as to reveal their true meaning. The dreams served as a guide to our existence and also often as paths to our destruction. My dreams concluded with visions of Sinaa holding Mynea’s journal. I didn’t know why she had it, nor what purpose it served with her.