The Thing in the Dark to Fear

Chapter 2

Emerging from the wooded path, Max could see the evening sky was bright with familiar stars. Towering Alps framed his view of the sky. The Mansion was not very well lit; as a rule, the lights were for the servants. Chief among them was Maxwell Beglitzi, walking briskly to the Mansion from his private quarters on the far side of a small patch of woods.
Max entered the Mansion through his private entry. The sound of his shoes would be a constant companion while he was in the Mansion. Looking up the steps, he did not notice any condensation but he still took the steps one at a time and carefully, cool stone could be treacherous.
Moving through the kitchen, he heard the softly playing stereo and the baroque music that characterized Hans, the Chief Butler. They exchanged brief words about the state of the Mansion and the Master. Satisfied, Max moved on to the Masters office. Maxwell’s shoes announced his approach and arrival to the office.
Working at a large wooden desk, a youthful appearing man wrote on stationary. Dark hair, lean build, defined features, and upright posture gave the man the appearance of health and vitality. Fine clothing and easy mannerisms marked him as an affluent man. Few people knew of his existence.
Writing a letter at his desk, Alfons paused but did not look up from his task.
“My brother has met with his destruction.” Alfons put it out as a fact; no emotion attached to it. No remorse. No blame. His eyes were hard and cold, but they hid the excitement welling inside. The cold granite block walls seemed to throw his voice back to the center of the room. Poorly lit with candles, it was a room he only used at night. It offered a view of the southern sky, mountains, and sloping steeps. The mansion was well kept, well furnished, and filled with many wonders of history, but it offered little warmth; atmospheric or otherwise.
Max, a lean man in his late fifties, cleared his throat, “My condolences, Lord.”
Alfons looked at his letter one final time. Apparently satisfied, he carefully folded and placed the letter in an envelope. Alfons rose from his high backed chair and moved to the window. Opening the window, he breathed deep the night air. Though he had little need for breathing, he sampled every olfactory delight the night carried. It was not just a rehearsed mannerism that had the affect of relaxing those around him. He could identify every scent he detected and felt a sense of loss for those he missed.
Turning to Max he smiled, “you are too kind.”
Quickly the smile faded away. Alfons walked to Max and handed him the envelope. “This is a letter of introduction, it is for your contact.” Alfons looked closely at Maxwell. “I will expect your prompt return, but be thorough.”
“Yes, my Lord.” Max understood he was to leave immediately.
“Maxwell, I have every confidence in your capabilities. I anticipate your safe return and expect you will use your time as you see best.” Alfons turned and briskly walked out of the room. His shoes never announced his coming and going, unless he willed it, and he did not need to pretend for Max.
Max, bowed his head and followed his master’s retreat through weary eyes.

Alfons felt new power acquired with the loss of his second brother. He was excited. More excited than he had been in years. Alfons could feel the power surge through his being. The sensation was delightfully new. He had now lost two brothers and only a sister remained. When the first brother passed, he felt a new interest in life, if you could call his undead existence a life. At first he thought it was a psychological boost from the fact that destruction had found one of The Four. He could feel a new strength about his being and he soon associated it with the loss of a sibling. This time there was no mistaking the force. He felt supremely fit and powerful.
Alfons tried to remember the old tales and lessons he was forced to learn in his youth. Did powers pass on to survivors? Like many Romanian Families, legitimacy never played a favor in the right to claim lineage. Blood was blood. He and his brothers had different mothers. His sister, however, not only shared the same mother; they rode into this world as identical twins. He had sired her, and considered himself the last of three. He patronizingly allowed her to be part of the ruling heads; thus 'The Four' referred to the Four oldest Vampires. They were Princes and Anna gave Alfons the advantage of superior numbers when matters came to a vote. He never considered her a force to be reckoned with, and never considered her equal to himself or any of his brothers, regardless of the disdainfully patronizing assurances he gave Anna. Anna never gave Alfons reason to rebuke her publicly, and they always presented a unified front.
Blood was blood. Alfons sired Anna, but she never felt or behaved like any of his other conquests; a slave to his desire. Anna was strong willed and he attributed her special power to the bond they had in life. When the cursed gift of immortality was forced upon him, Alfons naturally turned to Anna. Brother and sister gave each other the strength to persevere. He thought about her often.
Many years passed before Alfons and Anna became aware of their two half-brothers. When they found each other they quickly recognized that among themselves they possessed very strong and special gifts. They created the Blood Laws, and brutally enforced them among the Vampire societies that popped up during the industrial revolution. With cities experiencing booming growth rates and the crime associated with it, Vampires enjoyed a great deal of prosperity. Growing numbers of course needed control.
Men have always annialated the predators they fear, and the Four tried to maintain a discrete balance. The last thing a budding Vampire Nation needed was a holy war. When men combined forces to the single purpose of rooting out a perceived evil, the results could be devastating. Vampires would have to hibernate for years, until the human fear subsided.
Alfons always considered Anna one of his children, but never belabored the point with her. She often provided strategic insight he never saw on his own, and a silent partner was of little use. She was under him in the order of lineage as far as Blood Relatives figure, but her special status as sibling was convenient for Alfons. He wondered if he was now the oldest living Vampire, and if that virtue alone made him the most powerfully gifted. If that was the case, he could rule with impunity, and Anna’s guidance would no longer be needed.
He despised his weakness for her.
Alfons’ reverie was interrupted when he reached the room he wanted. Opening the door to a large chamber, his lips formed a cruel smile. With a wave of his hand, torches lit the in the chamber. The room, like so many in the mansion, had no windows. Several coffins lined the walls, each held soil from the burial place of the owner.
“Mistresses,” he called without opening his mouth, “come forth.”
Coffin after coffin opened. From each came a lovely siren. They seemed to float slowly forth. As the women approached Alfons, his mind filled with whispers.
“Ooh Master,” purred one.
“Pick me, Master,” plead another.
“Let us be your pleasure tonight, Master,” came a joint plea from the twins.
When the room and his mind echoed with their supplication, as they hovered and groveled, he held up a hand for silence. Alfons surveyed large breasts and small, curvy full hips, and buttocks pleasing to the eye. All of them nubile and pleading to serve. “We will all play tonight my children.”
The smile on his lips was not entirely malevolent.
Alfons led the procession down a corridor that opened into a terraced balcony. The balcony encircled a large room. The room was scattered with the sleeping bodies of back packers. The European Alps always attracted young adventurers with limited funds. It was easy to lure them into the mansion with the promise of bed and board for the night.
Alfons watched with delight as his companions floated into the midst of bodies and quietly seduced and drained their hapless victims. There was no screaming, no running, and no mess. Alfons was proud of his companions; he had trained them well.

Kristen woke with a start, but lay still with her eyes closed. The images were so fresh and real in her minds eye. She opened her eyes and looked about her dorm room. What ever had inspired this nightmare must be a mix of her studies and a less than healthy diet. She turned on her light and recorded her dream.
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Note to self:

Make them six or seven, to mirror the Pleiades, have him feed on them.