Dear Reader,
Again sorry about time lapse, I wish I could work faster too! Just a quick warning that I've taken creative liberties with history, it is not meant to offend, and to those with religious sensibilities you probably shouldn't be on this site anyway! I am aware that the language might be challenging to some but I would rather assume knowledge than ignorance, and frankly there are far too many good words not to use. As always, feedback is sincerely appreciated. Many thanks.
Astor and Matthias were cruising at 12,000 feet en route to Florence, Italy.
They had left the compound just after eight in the evening. Astor had eaten and spent some time with Fran, who hadn't objected to her swift departure, she would've gone too if it hadn't been for Nina's deteriorating health. Beauty had also been left in her care; the first plane journey had been exhausting enough and another change in environment simply wouldn't be fair to the dog.
They hadn't really spoken since they departed. Astor had spent the whole drive to the airport on the phone talking to Marcia, her part-time personal assistant and full-time friend. They had been at school together; Marcia had been boarded with Astor when she entered as a new girl. She was a scholarship student, extremely bright but as she came from a working class background some of the girls picked on her, "learn to talk properly," they would taunt; she said bu-er instead of butter and pronounced the letter 'h', haitch, instead of aitch.
When Marcia left the school five years later her RP accent (Received Pronunciation, the Queens English) had been perfected and the other girls could no longer demarcate her. Conversely, whenever she returned home during the holidays her old friends would mock her for this affectation of speech, and even she was horrified to find herself wincing at their improper inflections. It was one of things she loved about Astor, she didn't judge people on how they spoke but what they had to say, and Astor, somewhat symbiotically, loved Marcia because she didn't live in a rich bubble.
The plane finished its climb and they were now sitting comfortably; the interior was plush cream and wood panelled, and it was equipped with all the modern conveniences one could possibly want, without ever needing. Astor stood up put on a collection of Schubert's piano trios and then poured them each a good draught of scotch. She had many questions to ask though she wasn't angry about his deceit; she learnt long ago that anger was a useless counterproductive emotion that stood in the way of rational thought. All she wanted was the truth, even if it was ugly.
Matthias was quite at ease waiting for Astor to collect herself and begin the inquisition. He occupied himself with his iphone, sending emails across the globe inquiring if anyone had caught wind of Vincent's activities. He marvelled at present day technology even with his whims of nostalgia over the horse as an all but obsolete means of travel; adventuring really wasn't what it used to be.
She began her interrogation with a simple direct question, "Did you drink my blood this morning?" It wasn't an accusation she merely sought confirmation.
"Yes, but in my defence you didn't seem to mind."
"No I suppose not." She blushed. "What's it like?"
"Surely my reaction told you everything?"
She blushed again. "You're not planning on turning me into your sex slave until you drain me dry are you?" She said with a wry smile.
"Not unless you would like me to!" He blushed back as his mind was filled with images of Astor in various indecent positions; he hoped they wouldn't just be fantasies. "Sex isn't a necessary condition of feeding but the endorphins do make the blood taste sweeter. Yours is remarkably sweet." His tongue swept across his lips. "I can easily go a month without eating, after that I get a little lethargic. I once experimented and went four months without blood, and I can assure you an anorexic vampire is not someone you would care to meet!"
"But you obviously have control over your impulses?"
"It's not even an impulse; I need to drink blood to live! The thing is Astor the generally accepted mythology about vampires is that we are evil soulless creatures, when we are nothing of the sort. We were all human once, we never died, we never lost our humanity. Unfortunately being maligned throughout history as 'evil', a small number of vampires have laboured under the misapprehension that they're the spawn of Satan and behave as such. The greatest misconception about vampires is that we can't walk in the sun, that it will somehow burn our skin. Poppycock! But if you believe yourself to be a creature of the night and prefer to inhabit the shadows of the dark, overtime of course your body reacts aversely to the light. It's stupidity of course, but by the same token most of these idiots fall foul of natural selection."
"Is that why Vincent is the way he is because he believes himself to be evil?" She almost felt sorry for him.
"No, Vincent was a sadistic sociopath even in life. Have you heard of Gilles de Rais?"
"He's Gilles de Rais?" She spluttered in shock at the name of the notorious fifteenth century occultist child serial killer.
"No, but Gilles de Rais became the man he was because of him. Vincent was born Francesco Prelati. From a young age he had been obsessed with the occult and he became a brilliant alchemist. In 1432 he was expelled from his home town of Florence for the brutal murders of several prostitutes, he went to France, met Rais, and the rest as they say is history."
"Why did he change his name?"
"The same reasons I change mine. It's useful to have various aliases and an obscured origin makes one difficult to track. Vincent is a fairly new moniker but you should also know that one of his more famous historical incarnations was Jack the Ripper."
"Oh my god! No wonder they never caught him." She started wondering if other monsters of history were actual real monsters. "Have many serial killers been vampires?"
"The bloody ones often are I'm afraid."
"That Hungarian countess, what's her name?"
"Elizabeth Báthory, yes, and Vincent had a hand in her corruption too." He said with remorse.
"We're not going to see her are we?" Astor asked with nervous hesitance.
"No, she is definitely dead. We're going to see Vincent's sister Valeria." Astor looked horrfied.
"Don't worry she is the antithesis of her brother. Valeria was a nun, and it wasn't just that it was one of the few vocations open to women, she truly had faith, and Vincent, in his vileness, loves nothing better than to corrupt what is pure and good, he brutally raped and then turned her."
"How awful! So she isn't loyal to him then?"
"Not loyal, but understandably she is terrified of him and might not be exactly forthcoming. As much as I care for her, she is slightly unhinged and can be a little difficult. However she has a good heart and if it comes down to it she owes me."
"What for?"
"I helped her adjust to the lifestyle. In some ways Astor it has been easy for you to accept the existence of other beings because you have been exposed to the supernatural through the popular media," he grunted disdainfully and continued, "it's not an unknown world just a misconceived one, but Valeria truly believed in god and the devil and so the trauma of being turned into this supposed blood drinking monster nearly destroyed her."
"How did he become a vampire, what madman made him one?"
"It's something I've never discovered and it's troubling in itself." He shook his head, "We are quite an elitist group, there aren't that many of us, five thousand at the most worldwide. At the time maybe two thousand in Europe and Russia and despite us all being quite solitary in our own existence, we're a close nit community. I was in Germany when I heard of the abominations committed by Rais, and as such depravity is rarely the work of humans I headed to Machecoul. I learned of Francesco's involvement, he was still human then but as I understand he had acquired certain powers through ancient invocations and ritualistic sacrifices. To be honest I've never really been au fait as to what magic is, as I understand it's not good or bad but more Ying and Yang. Anyway he was long gone from the town, I traced him to Florence, I met Valeria who was also still human and had no idea as to the whereabouts of her brother. I stayed in Florence for a few weeks hoping he would return. If I can say one thing about Vincent, he knows how to keep a low profile." He swilled his drink meditatively and then knocked it back before continuing.
"I left Florence, followed a few tenuous leads, nothing. Six months later I returned, I visited Valeria and discovered she had disappeared from the convent two weeks prior to my arrival. I went to their family home and I was greeted by the rotting corpses of their parents and servants. Valeria was chained to a wall and had been made a vampire. That was the first time I met Vincent." His expression was pensive and he made a small tut with his tongue against clenched teeth.
"What happened?"
"The short of it; we fought, I won, I was about to kill him, Valeria screamed at me not to," he breathed in deeply, "I let my guard down for an instant, he stunned me and got away." He stared in to his empty glass and then turned back to Astor, "I'm not someone who really dwells on the past, but not killing Vincent then was my greatest mistake. Our strength grows over time but after a few hundred years plateaus, I think because our bodies have become attuned to the change." He paused momentarily to collect his thoughts. "For six hundred years, we've been playing a game of cat and mouse and I'm not sure which one I am anymore. The truth is Astor I don't know if I am able to kill him, when we last fought at the end of the Second World War, I nearly had him, and then he vanished before my very eyes disappearing into the ether."
