Aleron: Book One of Strigoi Series (Stringoi Series) (37 page)

t was November twenty-third in the year 1886. Mynea was now frantic and consumed with worry. Pandora had returned to her a mirror of her life: the journal—a memoir of the life and death of Mynea. A reflection of the adulterous kiss she had given to me. Mynea had only to look in it to discover herself again. She would see the night Vlad delivered her to the devil. She would see her embrace of the fallen angel with only a title and without the importance or significance of a name. She saw her life immortal, living as a maiden among many others, fighting for the affection of the supreme. She witnessed betrayal, deception, and death, all at the hands of her master and lover, at the hands of her sisters, even of her own hands, and bloody they were.

In her jealousy, she did what Sasha couldn’t. She had created the nemesis of her king. From her rage spawned one more powerful and deadly than any of the others. And through her own deceit and longing, she gave birth in him a desire to break free of her impossible hold.

The blood-stained record now told only of death, terrible reflections of her children being targeted and slaughtered, her own actions and will turned against her. She was full of dismay and confusion when her journal revealed her to herself!

Mynea swiftly left the castle in fear of Vlad’s return and what Pandora would tell him before his arrival. She didn’t know where they were, but she had a place she often visited where she could remain in absolute solitude. On Lake Snagov there stood a single structure situated in the middle of the black water, the Snagov Monastery.

The night air held much more than a chill, thus the streets were completely empty of mortals. The local townspeople kept their pets and animals inside, for the brutality of the bitter cold was unforgiving and knew nothing of discrimination. The rain that fell early that day became snow before resting on the ground. Continuously falling, it completely blanketed the entire region.

All was dark, perfect cover for a vampire as swift as Mynea. She fled Bran, feet barely gracing the snow below them, the white blanket undisturbed for hundreds of yards at a time, a specter in the night if witnessed by anything other than an immortal. She called out to her children, and the remaining ones answered. They knew where to meet her.

Mynea arrived at the bank of the lake, barely panting from her journey. She felt vulnerable for the first time in centuries; mortality was at her doorstep. Through a second-story window she entered the monastery. She scanned the island and sensed nothing immortal. She felt a moment of peace as she let her children know she awaited their arrival.

Waiting in the main hall, she nervously paced and thought. She had seen what Vlad’s rage could bring. Time and time again she bore witness to pain and suffering, ending in death and dismemberment followed by total consumption in fire. He was no ordinary vampire. There had been none other known to have his thirst for blood, and to my knowledge that is still true.

She heard a sound coming from beneath the main hall. Frantically she scanned the entire monastery. Her keen vampire sense failed to reveal a threat, so she dismissed the sound as that of an animal crawling around beneath the building. Then she heard yet another faint sound. She scanned the area prior to going down the staircase to the
basement. Though completely unaided by light, her vampire eyes and senses searched and found nothing out of the ordinary. She went back up the stairs, and before she reached the top, something snatched her in midstep.

It threw her back down the stairs into the darkness, catching her by surprise and using such force that she couldn’t recover before her body hit the ground hard. Whatever it was, she still couldn’t see it. It grabbed her again and threw her into the center. With a roar and magnificent display, fire erupted, surrounding the room entirely. The stone walls burned as if doused with an incendiary catalyst. Mynea regained her control and sat up in the room, which still contained no life, save hers.

She looked around frantically as the flames illuminated the room, and what she saw brought terror to her heart: the heads of the three remaining daughters strewn about on the floor. The horror on their faces told of an excruciating demise. Crimson tears welled in her eyes. Then she heard his slow and steady heartbeat. It was menacing, simultaneously soothing and terrifying. Methodically she turned around and saw, sitting in an old wooden chair, Vlad.

The look of disgust on his face and blood thirst within his eyes spoke volumes to his intent. For just an instant she saw the eyes of a once mortal Vlad, rich and brilliantly blue. Slowly the white surrounding the blue blackened.

Mynea finally sensed others were near, and soon, one by one, the immortal children filled the basement. The flames continued to burn. The shadows screeched and rustled about. The wolves began to sing, and Mynea’s heart began to bleed.

“My dear, there isn’t any need for sorrow,” Vlad commanded from the wooden throne. “For this is a great event, grand in all its splendor.” He stood enormous before his coven, before his council of elders: Pandora, Natasha, and, lying on the floor, Mynea. “For hundreds of years an event like this has never occurred. We’re blessed with immortality, yet it comes at a price that’s maddening to our existence.”

He walked slowly through the crowd of his children, all of whom were from Pandora and Natasha. He made eye contact with each of them. “A great betrayal occurred decades ago, and the present offers its resolution!”

Mynea, broken-spirited, lifted her head and stood firm in the center of the room surrounded by the bloodless heads of her daughters, accusing eyes prancing upon her from all directions. She wasn’t their queen tonight, nor would she ever be again. She was their enemy, for Vlad required absolute devotion. Any wavering meant death!

Mynea looked around only to find the evidence of her blasphemy written on the faces of all who witnessed her rise. They would all witness her fall and ultimately her demise. Those who had loved her, hated her now even more. She felt totally alone in that moment, and she was.

Vlad walked slowly to her, and she called out to the only one who loved her unconditionally. If vampires gave in to prayer at times of certain death, this would have been hers. However, she prayed not for God, nor for salvation of her soul. She prayed for me!

Calmly he spoke, “I need not your blood to know. I need not your blood to see. For I’ve already seen this Aleron. And when I’m finished with you, my queen, this abomination will endure my unbridled wrath!” As Vlad sternly made his declaration, the flame roared louder and burned brighter, punctuating his promise.

Mynea ran for the entrance, and in an instant the vampire children blocked it by their numbers, forcing her back to the center of the room. Vlad commanded the others to tear her apart, and so the carnage began.

One vampire pounced onto Mynea’s back and bit into her neck. And just as fast as she sank her teeth in, she was flung inches deep into the shattered stone floor, her body broken completely. Mynea finished her with a mighty blow to her chest, crushing her heart.

Another flew and knocked Mynea into the crowd, who all began to bite flesh from her. Vlad stood still as Pandora smiled, enjoying her position next to her love.

One by one the vampires were thrown about. But as soon as they hit the ground, they were back on her, clawing fiercely at their sovereign mother, completely destroying her gown.

A vampire bit her wrist and nearly severed her hand. Though wounded, the queen proved to be more than capable of destroying the
vampires. Some burst into flames, and screams escaped the mouths of the unfortunate burning few.

Mynea moved like a lioness protecting herself against an unruly and hungry pack of hyenas. But as the fight progressed, they wore her down, for there were still many more waiting to taste the blood of an elder. With a great cry, Mynea pushed forth a force similar to Vlad’s and sent the vampires into the surrounding marble statues and stone walls. Some were crushed, others merely wounded. Some even regained their footing instantly.

“Enough!” announced Vlad, and with this the surviving vampires retreated immediately.

And there in the center of the floor lay a weary and bloodied Mynea, trying desperately to keep herself from crossing the River Styx. Exhausted she was, yet she knew she mustn’t give in, for her death wouldn’t be swift.

Vlad knelt and lifted Mynea back onto her feet. Staring at her eyes, he remembered her. “You were beautiful the first night I came to you. You held beauty beyond my imagination. From that night forward, you were mine to have and to hold.”

Pandora continued to smirk in full anticipation of Vlad’s wrath and the death of her bane.

For moments their eyes met. King and queen together once more, Mynea bent and bleeding from her assault, Vlad standing tall, cloak bending to its own will, chest pressed into the air, chin as hard as stone, eyes black, teeth white, thirst enormous!

Mynea looked upon him in disgust. If she ever loved him at all, she loved him no more. Her hand tried to reattach itself, hair began to grow in where it had been ripped out, and her face, horribly scarred from countless claws, slowly began to heal as her strength returned.

Mynea stretched her neck and engaged his thirst for death. She knew he would never let her go until her heart was no more. With the knowledge of Pandora knowing Aleron, coupled with his failure to come to her aid, and with the loss of her children, she welcomed death. And death would answer!

Vlad’s mouth opened, and saliva traced his great canines. His nose was sharp, and with his mighty bite, she let out a low cry. He began to drain her. The wounds on her face stopped healing and reopened, re-exposing blood and bone. All others watched as Vlad dined.

But Vlad wasn’t enjoying this meal. He was disturbed by a sense that something was coming—fast! The other vampires became aware of it as well. They began to spread about, looking for its origin. They could hear the wolves scattering about beyond the monastery walls and above the basement. The howls were interrupted abruptly by sharp canine cries, and then silence gripped the hall.

Suddenly wind whipped into the basement, and Vlad’s meal came to an end. Snow rushed in behind something that no one could see. The flames struggled for life; most were darkened instantly.

Suddenly, Vlad was knocked into a statue that resembled him, which was reduced to dust upon impact. As the dust and snow settled, Vlad regained his feet and turned around. Full of rage, he turned to see me!

I stood in the center of the room, Mynea in my arms. She was clinging to life, yet her eyes still found me. All present looked upon me in utter shock! My eyes focused on Vlad as the others began to circle me. He looked around to see the faces of his angels. He wanted to see how they saw me.

Was it awe he noticed from his coven? Was it envy? Was it lust? I also examined them; however, I wasn’t interested in their faces. I was interested in their fear. They had seen their master knocked completely off his feet and unabashedly disrespected. Their master needn’t know how they saw me; he only needed to smell the fear that permeated his daughters’ thoughts and feelings. It seemed the room’s breath slowed to a crawl. Mine was steady. I laid Mynea gently down at my feet.

Vlad studied me for only moments before he spoke. “You have found your way, Aleron. Now you must perish with your maker.”

One of the vampires leapt out of the crowd and sought my throat. She mattered little as I caught her and bit through her neck. She fell next to Mynea. The blood oozed onto the floor, drawn to the living corpse that was my maker, and she began to lick it up.

Another young and unsure vampire ran at me, and I simply moved
out of her way, and into the crowd she went. Regaining her dignity proved to be fatal, for she tried to leap yet again and found herself in excruciating pain. She doubled over and grabbed at her chest. Raya walked in with hands outstretched in the direction of the misfortunate vampire. And with the closing of her palm, the vampire’s heart burst. Blood escaped her eyes and ears, then her nose and mouth. She emitted a ghastly scream as her body fell lifeless.

Natasha flew to the aid of her fallen daughter. She grabbed Raya by the wrists and slung her into the ceiling. Raya failed to adhere to the laws of gravity as she simply traversed the ceiling until she reached the other side. When she landed, as a cat, onto the floor, the others began to surround her.

“Be still, my children.” The voice wasn’t of their king. It was Pandora. “This will be settled this night by the master and not any of you.”

The vampires stayed in formation, but they didn’t attack. A ravenous fiend, Raya stood, looking upon her many foes as food. She also didn’t move but stayed at the ready.

Vlad walked slowly to me and began to speak again. Before he could finish his first word, I flew at him, drawing my strength from my fury, and forced him back into the wall. The stone gave, but my hands did not.

I looked Vlad directly in his eyes, the same eyes that had haunted me for decades. Dark and ghastly they were, larger in the flesh than in any dream or blood memory. And though his eyes still captured my soul, I meant to destroy his.