Judas and the Vampires (51 page)

Finally, just before 6:00 p.m., I was fully dressed and ready to face the vampire world. Not knowing what to expect, I left my room and headed downstairs. The place seemed almost as quiet as it had earlier that day, at least until I approached the dining hall. 

It sounded like a Mardi Gras parade moved through the castle just beyond the pair of heavy oak doors that marked the dining hall’s entrance. Since they were open last night, I had no idea the doors contained detailed engravings. Each door bore the image of a muscular angel with gilded wings that appeared to be made from real gold. Perhaps gold leaf foil had been overlaid upon the carved images. Or, maybe the wings were created from solid gold. Impressive either way, I briefly chuckled at the thought that if silver had been used instead, perhaps the hall that lay behind the doors would sit empty. A vampire-less chapel, perhaps? Or, maybe just a dining hall for the living.

“Hel-lo Txema!” said a familiar voice from behind me, as I debated whether to step up and knock loudly on the door, or simply walk right into the hall unannounced. “Why do you dally so much?”

“Because it could seem rude to just barge in there!” I retorted while whirling around. Armando stood, waiting, dressed in a traditional tux. Beaming with delight, either at his own witty comment or my self-imposed predicament, he looked even more regal than usual. “You do expect common manners to be adhered to…. Correct?”

“Ah, but what is polite to mankind could be deemed unnecessary, or even offensive, by the race of immortals!” he chided me, laughing at my expense while he threw his hands toward the doors. They flew open as if he carried a magic wand. “Ladies first—that is a rule for both the undead and those destined to be dust!”

Mean words delivered with a silver tongue and jester’s smile. At least he succeeded in getting me to snicker.

A party was indeed in full swing inside the dining hall.  Balloons and streamers hung from the ceiling, and it seemed like more vampires joined the event tonight. Almost like a costume ball, although by then I understood that every waking moment for these vampires was an opportunity for fun and excess. A good number of the vamps were dressed in eighteenth century French aristocracy gowns and suits. But, unlike these revelers of the bloodiest era in French history, Garvan and Franz approached from across the room, dressed in twenty-first century apocalypse black garb, including gothic capes, mirror sunglasses and they wore their hair spiked. Their black stiletto boots were equipped with steel chains that hung silent as they floated toward me through the air.

Unlike last night, they were both smiling. Not immediately seeing Racco anywhere in the room, I assumed they must’ve learned about the afternoon’s amorous disaster. 

“You look ravishing, my chérie!” Garvan enthused, after he and Franz joined us.

By then, I was already looking toward the roasted fowl on the table, ready to be carved by one of the few warm-blooded human beings in the room. It didn’t matter if the bird was turkey, chicken, or some sort of local pheasant. I felt hungry enough to eat the very carving tray it sat upon.

“You two could pass for Linkin Park’s bodyguards,” I replied. “Do you guys party like this every night?”

“Who is ‘Linkin Park’?” asked Franz, his expression perplexed.

“A rock band, no?” offered Armando, his tone impish.  “Next time they come to Paris you should join us at the Theatre du Chatelet. We can hang out in the rafters, and maybe share a nice young boy before we leave!”

Franz’s expression turned serious, glancing at me while Garvan lowered his shades to glare at Armando.

“You two take everything
so
seriously!” sniffed Armando, in obvious mock contrition. “I will take my leave of you and visit Chanson.”

Before I could tell him that I wanted to come along, he was gone. Not even a blur. These guys and gals must have some sort of hyper-speed when they get really miffed.

“We do not party like this every night,” said Garvan, in response to my earlier question. “Yes, we try to have as much fun as possible, and parties are frequent. Part of what you have been treated to these past few days is our celebration for your continued safety. At some point, Gustav plans to taper off the constant pampering, so you are not overwhelmed. And, in truth, that will now happen sooner than expected. But, tonight…tonight will be one of our most festive events in recent years!”

“Why?” I asked, without thinking my full question through first. I didn’t like the way Garvan said ‘sooner than expected’. 

It sounded a little ominous, as if something bad had happened, and that the original plan shared with me last night had changed. Chanson’s surreal angry face flashed before my mind, and I hoped I hadn’t pissed off the vampires beyond an apologetic repair.

“The answer to your question will be answered soon,” a mellow voice to my right suddenly announced. I nearly jumped since it sounded so close to my ear, like an abrupt boom that faded to a whisper. When I turned my head, Gustav stood beside me, dressed in another papal robe and cap, only the dominant colors were gold and a deep, rich purple. “But first, you must nourish yourself. Come, join me at the table.”

He held out his hand for me to take, and I was surprised when his hand felt warm. I noticed then that his alabaster complexion seemed more blushed than the previous night. I also saw that his fingernails were longer, with predatory tips sharpened to keen edges. A slight golden glow emanated from his eyes. The king of vampires had either recently fed, or some other fiery force energized him to where he stood out even more against his peers than the previous night.

As before, he motioned for me to join him next to his throne, motioning to the servant girl standing next to the roasted bird I so admired to cut me a serving and bring it up to where I sat. Another glance around the room revealed Chanson, Raquel, and Nora had moved to a corner with Armando. Dressed in exotic flamenco style, they were engaged in an animated discussion. I assumed it was serious until I heard Armando’s uproarious laughter while the female trio smiled at what he told them.

Still, there was no sign of Racco, and I began to worry for his welfare.

“Perhaps you would like merlot again tonight, or do you have another preference?” asked Gustav, his tone laced with compassion.

“Actually, maybe a lighter wine would be better,” I said, thinking that merlot at this castle would come from Racco’s private stock, which would make me think of him all the more. “Do you have something simple, like maybe zinfandel?”

“I believe so…. Mercel?”

Racco’s trusted assistant appeared, stepping around a bar nearby. I hadn’t noticed his presence, but seeing him now made me feel better about things…better about Racco’s absence. Maybe things would be okay after all, for both of us. At least that’s what I took Mercel’s warm smile and carefree gait as he approached the table.

“A glass of the finest zinfandel for the lady in honor,” said Gustav.

“Yes, I shall pour her a glass and bring it over.” 

He bowed to us both and hurried back to the bar. He returned a moment later with my preferred beverage for the evening.

“Would you enjoy a salad with your dinner?” Gustav asked me, after waving off Mercel’s offer to prepare an RH negative cocktail for him, apparently his usual preference.

“No, I’m fine,” I said, between bites of what I assumed was chicken. Either that or the biggest Cornish hen I’d ever seen. It was excellent, as was the wine—obviously another cherished bottle from Racco’s collection. “This is quite good.”

“Excellent!” he beamed. 

He turned his attention to the party around us while I ate. As the night before, the vampires feasted on blood at room temperature from several vats nearby and an extra two punchbowls on the table. Meanwhile, I caught Chanson studying me from her corner of the room. Wearing a slight smile on her face, I assumed she might suddenly appear before me. But for the time being she remained where she was, and soon returned to her conversation with Raquel and Nora. Armando had disappeared, and when I looked over at Garvan and Franz, who had joined a group of females dressed in early Renaissance Italian attire, he wasn’t with them either.

Perhaps to distract me from my Racco quest, Gustav engaged me in conversation. I thought it might be painful, given my initial impressions of him the night before.  Pleasantly surprised to find that it wasn’t, we talked about my aborted studies in America and what life was like growing up in Virginia. It wasn’t until he signaled to the rest of the room that he had an important announcement to make, I realized he had expertly gotten me to talk about myself, and yet, said nothing about him. I couldn’t decide if that was a good thing, or not.

The room grew quiet, as Gustav rose from his throne. At the moment, he was the only one floating in the room, as the others either gathered in small groups or took a seat at the table. I wondered if the groups represented some sort of geographical separation. I doubted seriously that all of them originated from France, or even resided here on a full-time basis. Hearing the variety of dialects and accents around me during the past two nights supported this notion.

Racco stood just inside the doorway, dressed in the same Body Armor, I assumed, and wearing a casual beige dress coat and jeans. I think I said before that it wouldn’t matter how the man dressed, as he is always gorgeous. But, either he didn’t see me—or worse—chose not to acknowledge my presence next to the throne. I wanted to go to him and say something… to find
some
way to reconnect. However, Gustav had already begun to address his flock.

“My brothers and sisters, compatriots of the dark gift we’ve shared freely for so many centuries. As you all know, our way of life—the manner in which we have ruled this continent and the very world—is now threatened in ways unseen before….”

I tried to take it all in, and to do so seriously, praying to God that my irreverent thoughts would somehow go undetected by the undead throng gathered around me. I definitely didn’t want Gustav to gain any telepathic inkling as to what I thought about the grandiose manner in which he addressed the crowd of vampires gathered in the dining hall. Hell, if his flamboyant cap had covered his eyes, it would seem as if the Ku Klux Klan’s Grand Dragon spoke instead. That thought brought a wry smile to my face, which I’m sure someone would’ve noticed.

But, he continued on undeterred. I caught most of what he said, and the important thing was that the castle would soon be under siege. When he mentioned the name ‘Ralu’, though, I went from an irreverent observer to fully engaged believer. He had my rapt attention from that point forward.

“So, Ralu is the one behind the uprisings taking place throughout Europe?”

The question was posed by a stately gentleman sitting in a chair near where Racco stood. Undoubtedly an older vampire, and one turned to darkness later in life, his long white hair and youthful features reminded me of Nora. The entire room turned to look in his direction until Gustav answered him.

“Yes, Kazikli, it is him,” confirmed Gustav, his tone solemn. “He has reassembled an army in the old country—yours and my former home. A new version of
Diavolului Respinge
has risen from the depths of the earth, where we sent them to live out their miserable existence almost three hundred years ago.”

“But, how can the ‘Devil’s Rejects’ become formidable so quickly?” asked another vampire, this one much younger. From the disdainful looks from several others near him, it appeared he wasn’t held in high esteem.

“They have figured out how to proliferate,” Gustav replied, and the underlying tone seemed benevolent—different than I would’ve expected, given my intuitions about him. My volleying respect jumped back up a notch. “It is no longer an intelligent Ralu leading a bunch of imbeciles. They are no longer far beneath us…they have learned to procure the living for food and to build their numbers. They now easily assimilate knowledge, where as you know, they once were half-wits easily routed by farmers armed with clubs and pitchforks. They no longer make the same mistake twice….”

He grew quiet, and then glided through the air until he reached the middle of the room. Still hovering above the table, all eyes remained upon him, all of us waiting expectantly for him to continue.

“Their army now exceeds thirty-two thousand,” he advised, once ready to speak again. “Most are here in Europe, although as you shall see in a moment, their presence is known throughout the world. As a result, we are all in danger—them and us. The world’s powers have turned a deaf ear to my voice, and will seek to destroy us all unless Ralu is stopped.”

“How can we do that if he has amassed an army as intelligent as you claim they are?” said the vampire Kazikli, rising to his feet. Definitely the most regal vamp that night in terms of dress, he tapped his gold-tipped cane on the floor, sending forth streams of purple plasma light from the point of impact. “We number only four-hundred and seventy-eight—nearly half of whom are gathered here tonight! They will cut us down like wounded flies if we chase them through the chasms, and might not fare any better if we await their attack on your ‘Le château de douleur’!”

The vampire glared in anger at his king, although the way these two conversed made it obvious to me that they had been colleagues in the blood drinking biz for many centuries.

“I know Ralu…better than any of you,” said Gustav, finally, after nearly a minute spent in thoughtful silence. “If we perform the ceremony…the
Relance du sang
, before his Romanian army storms the castle, he will back off. He wants the gift, just as we do, if for no other reason than to keep us from using it.”