III - The Undead (And Their Many Names)

  “Vampyre?”

  The word sounded unnatural coming from Dr. Philip Nash’s mouth, as if his tongue struggled to say it in any context that did not involve timeless legends and outlandish stories of old. He and Vlad Albescu sat in the gloomy kitchen on either end of the small wooden table. The reignited candle flickered gently between them, splashing powerful shadows onto the surrounding stone walls.

  “Correct.” Vlad’s black-and-grey hair, still heavy with sweat, began to sag into his face. He slicked it back with one of his gloved hands. “Surely you are familiar with the term, yes? Vampyre. Strigoi. Nosferatu. The creature you see before you goes by many names, and will likely go by many more in times yet to be, but they all come to the same meaning: an undead mockery of all things that are holy and good, which feeds upon the blood of the living and breeds wickedness and terror during the darkest hours of the blackest nights of humanity.”

  “Of course I’m familiar with the term,” Nash said, a nervous impatience filling his voice. “What I currently struggle with is being told that such a creature has leapt from the pages of the old story books my mother used to read to me as a child and landed on this kitchen floor in front of my adult eyes.”

  The thing that was once Mrs. Baker rested on the stone floor nearby, still bound in the sturdy silver chains that kept her readily restrained. Thin, gentle streams of smoke hissed from all along her body where she touched the silver. She had spent a long time helplessly writhing in fury and pain, but had since calmed to an eerie stillness, her messy torrent of hair scattered across her unmoving face. Though Vlad knew that she still felt the pain of the whip’s touch, she refused to acknowledge it. The Star of the Mother and Effigy of the Goddess flanked her on either side, serving to bulwark the hindering power of the silver chain.

  “Make no mistake, Dr. Nash,” Vlad said. “The hellspawn that lies subdued before you is very real, and, like all of its ilk, is very much a being of pure evil. And though they may resemble the people they once were, and may even hold a piece of that person helplessly trapped inside, you cannot let this facade fool you. There is not a trace of humanity left in the living consciousness of these vile creatures, despite any efforts they may make toward convincing you of the contrary.”

  Nash looked at the motionless form lying on the floor nearby, then back at the man sitting on the other side of the table. “Suppose for a moment that I believe your outlandish claim, Mr. Albescu. What is this… thing doing here? How could such a vile creature exist in this world, and how could it be here, in this home, behind these city walls?”

  “There are many unspeakable creatures that should not exist in this world, Dr. Nash,” Vlad said, “and yet they very much do; terrible creatures that have seemingly escaped from the realm of folk tales and now infest our own world. Or perhaps they have always been here, and those tales exist to create a barrier between our world and theirs, to shelter our fragile minds from the reality of what comes out in the darkness hours of the night, when the Mother’s power is at its weakest.”

  When Nash did not respond, Vlad went on. “As for how they’ve arrived in your great city, with its walls of stone and men clad in iron and steel, well, you have the Plague to thank for that.”

  “The Plague?”

  Vlad nodded. “Aye.” He allowed another brief pause. “Vampyres, like most terrible monsters that exist where they should not, used to only be found in far off regions like the one from which I hail—dark, lonesome places that, were you to visit them, you would think them ripped straight from those same fairy tales that you claim to no longer believe in. Places where folk often disappear after dusk, and nobody questions what happened to them when dawn at last arrives. Then came the Plague, and with it, the wretched vampyre was set free.

  “Naturally, the symptoms of having your very essence slowly drained by a vampyre—fatigue; exhaustion; pale, clammy flesh—greatly resemble those of having your very essence slowly drained by the Plague. Victims of both will find themselves burning on the same pyre. Thanks to that wretched Plague, nosferatu are now able to feed to their black hearts’ content without fear of being discovered. No longer do they have to limit their domain to small, isolated villages where folk expect a number of their own to occasionally vanish into the night. They now can prey upon massive cities where men, women and children die in the hundreds every day, where a few more bodies here and there will not stir any suspicion.”

  “So you mean to tell me that these disgusting creatures live among us, feeding on us, using us as if we were cattle, and we are powerless to stop them?”

  “They certainly live among us, yes,” Vlad said. “This much is true, and cannot be denied. But to say we are powerless against them is hardly accurate. For you see, this is where I enter the fray, Dr. Nash.” He offered a friendly, reassuring smile. “Plague doctors of my variety, those who train specifically with the sole purpose of eliminating this scourge from our world, battle these vampyres tirelessly so that folk can remain safe and secure behind the large stone walls that serve solely to protect them. It is thanks to us that such security continues to exist, and that those who enjoy it never even realize that it was compromised in the first place.”

  “Oh, gallant hero!” Vlad and Dr. Nash looked down at the vampyre. She glared up at them, smirking violently with her pair of stiletto fangs from behind her curtain of filthy hair, once again writhing within her silver prison like an animal trying to escape its cage. “Champion of the Mother! Savior of the Dominion! How I eagerly await your demise at the hands of my unholy brethren!”

  “Be silent, vile hellspawn!” Vlad said, his voice a raging inferno of scorn. “You shall be dealt with shortly.”

  “Why keep this nightmarish creature alive, Mr. Albescu?” Nash asked. “What do you hope to gain from it?”

  Vlad returned his attention to the physician. When he spoke again, the venom was completely gone from his voice. “Worry not, Dr. Nash. This despicable strigoi is not long for this world. I will not burden you with the specifics, but just know that as soon as I am given the information that I require from it, this creature will be sent swiftly to hell where it belongs.”

  The vampyre that was once Mrs. Baker laughed. “Hah! Oh, I am so eager to assist you, little sparrow! Just as soon as you unbind me, so that I may sink my teeth into your soft, tender neck!”

  Vlad stood up from the table and turned to face the vampyre lying on the cold floor. “Worry not, abomination. Your demise shall come for you soon. Because I am a fair negotiator toward even the most despicable of creatures, I will now inform you that my earlier offer still remains: cooperation shall grant you the mercy of a swift end, should you wish to provide it.”

  The creature laughed again, its bellowing chortles echoing through the claustrophobic space. “Do be careful that you are not too merciful now, hero. We’ve much to savor from this moment, yet.”

  Vlad looked at Nash, who had followed the Plague doctor’s lead and had risen to his feet. “Please wait outside, Dr. Nash. I shall join you ere too long.”

  The physician frowned. “Are you certain it is safe to leave you alone with it, sir?”

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  Vlad nodded. “Aye. You need not worry for my sake. This creature no longer poses any threat to me, and I would prefer not to subject you to what comes next if it can be helped.”

  “Very well,” Nash said. “I shall wait for you outside, then.”

  He turned to leave, not looking back as he quickly exited the kitchen. With the physician gone, the Plague doctor returned his attention to the vampyre lying on the floor. When their eyes met, the creature chuckled once again. “Many thanks for sending that stinking fool away. I’ve always been a woman who prefers her intimacy. My husband can tell you as much when you meet him in hell.”

  “Do not pretend to have lived the life of the body you currently possess,” Vlad said. “Now, I shall once more, and for the final time, reiterate my offer of a swift end. I am a man of my word, even when it is extended to fiends such as yourself. Give me what I need quickly, and I shall respond in kind. Waste my time, and the suffering I shall inflict upon you will serve as a worthy precursor for what awaits you in the afterlife.”

  The vampyre’s smirk broadened; Vlad could see its pale, dead gums sticking out from behind its thin lips. “I am afraid accepting such an offer would ruin our fun, my gallant champion. I am in no rush to scurry off to hell, where I shall join the Unholy Father at His side. He is patient, and thus shall wait for me—for eternity if he must.”

  “Very well, demon. If you wish for us to take our time, then we shall take our time.” Vlad unhooked his beaked mask from its spot at his belt and pulled it over his head. When it was properly in place and his cowl was pulled overtop, he unsheathed his silver dagger and slowly approached his subdued foe. Standing over her, Vlad looked down into the monster’s still smirking face with his mask’s pair of expressionless midnight eyes. “I have my methods of getting what I require from you—and I can take all the time that I need.”

  ___

  Vlad did not emerge from the Baker residence until just before sundown. The parts of the sky above that were not obscured by dark smoke were flecked with young stars. The Plague doctor approached Philip Nash, who stood up from where he leaned against a low cobblestone wall. The physician looked weary with the shock of all that he had seen and learned that day, but he appeared to be handling it all exceptionally well.

  “It is done,” Vlad said. He still wore his Plague mask, his artificial countenance as expressionless as ever. “The creature has been destroyed, and Mrs. Baker is at peace.”

  Nash nodded. “Did that horrible thing relinquish what you came here for?”

  “It did—just as I knew it would. The fiend tried to put on a fierce exterior, but its vigor collapsed rather quickly. They always come crumbling down, one way or another.”

  Dr. Nash looked pale. “I shall not ask you for the details.”

  “Nor would I give them to you if you did. This last bastion of innocence is my gift to you; consider it my apology for forcing you into a world that you would have been better remaining entirely unaware of. Because now that you possess even a passing knowledge of the creatures that haunt the night, you will never be able to slip back to that blissful ignorance that once shielded you from the truth.”

  Nash allowed a brief lull in their conversation as he considered Vlad’s words in silence. “What comes next then, Mr. Albescu?”

  “Next I shall take my leave of your city and continue on my path, but not ere we eliminate the creature’s body so that we can be entirely certain that it will not return. We will take it to the pyre and throw it in with the other corpses. Only once it has been fully reduced to ash can we be sure that it is destroyed for good.”

  Nash frowned. “What shall I tell the city guard of Mrs. Baker’s death? Surely if I accuse her of being a vampyre, it will be me who burns next to her on that pyre.”

  “You shall tell them the truth,” Vlad said. “You came to her residence to inquire about her health, only to discover that she had been taken by plague.”

  “By plague,” the physician said, “but not by the Plague.”

  “Such details are of no consequence. What matters is that she ultimately perished due to her ailment, and that you delivered unto her what you deliver unto all who have succumbed to such a fate. They will not ask you what plague you speak of, and you need not tell them.”

  “Very well,” Nash said. “Then I suppose we should get this done with, shouldn’t we?”

  “We should,” Vlad agreed. “The sooner we get her body onto the pyre, the better.”

  The Plague doctor led his companion back into the home, where they found the body of the vampyre already wrapped in the white cloth that had earlier been covering the Effigy. Vlad had taken the liberty of completing this task before bringing Nash back inside so that the physician did not have to see the extent of the Plague doctor’s handiwork—though Vlad was certain that his companion would notice the dark, inhuman blood that lay in violent splashes against the floor and walls, and which already stained that white cloth black. The kitchen would need to be cleaned before any inquiring persons entered the home; Dr. Nash would need to see to that.

  The duo carried Mrs. Baker’s corpse out of the house and all the way down the deserted city street back toward the waiting pyre. Nobody looked out of their windows or stood in their doorways to watch them go, but even though he could not see another living soul, that familiar groan of ache and death still clung to the air all around him; he was eager to be gone from the city with much haste, and to keep away from any similar Plague-infested pits for as long as he possibly could. He quietly pitied Philip Nash; tending to the victims of the mortal Plague was, in a way, a more deadly charge than Vlad’s was, and he feared that the physician would not be long for this world if he remained so constantly surrounded by the disease.

  They soon arrived at the pyre. The smoke that it produced formed a haze that, in the evening darkness, would have created a thick curtain of shadow were it not for the bright burning mass that lit up the entire square. They paused for only a moment so that Nash could pull the cloth back over his face, then made their way through the smoke until they came to the base of the roaring blaze, and, wasting no time, together tossed Mrs. Baker’s body into the hungry inferno. The cloth covering her quickly blackened and burned away, briefly revealing the corpse beneath before it too became charred and warped by the flames.

  Vlad watched for a short while as the once-vampyre continued to burn. At length, he spoke. “You have been set free.”

  He turned and led the way back to Elpis, who waited patiently where he had left her. The men turned to face each other as Dr. Nash pulled the cloth from his face and Vlad untied his horse’s reins. He chose to leave his mask where it rested upon his face. “And so my task here is complete. Your help in this matter has been much appreciated, Dr. Nash.”

  “You’re certain that there are no other vampyres in this city?”

  “Mrs. Baker was the only person you could recall who had supposedly survived the Plague, yes?” Nash nodded, and Vlad went on. “Assuming her only victims were her family, who have already been burned, then this city should be clean of the scourge. Of course, anybody else who that creature may have fed upon will also die with their mortal infection, which means they too have the potential to join the undead scourge if they are not discovered and burned before they can turn. Because of this, an abundance of caution can do no harm.”

  Vlad pulled his silver dagger from its sheath and presented it to Nash. “This blade will serve well for vanquishing any new strigoi, should the need arise. Of course I will trust your judgment—surely you know better than I do that survivors of the Plague are not unheard of, but you should treat them cautiously until you can be certain that they are indeed blessed by the Mother, and are not, in fact, members of the undead. Any object of silver or holiness to their skin shall determine if they are of the living—or if they are something else.”

  Nash looked at the blade hesitantly. “Are you certain that you do not need it?”

  “I have more blades where this one comes from in my coach,” Vlad said. “Trust me when I say that sparing one is not beyond my means.”

  “Well, alright then,” Dr. Nash said. He took the hilt of the dagger into his hands and began studying its razor-sharp edge. “Thank you.”

  “I advise against you walking this new path alone as I do,” Vlad said. “While it is not wise to incite panic in the public by opening their eyes to the undead threat of the strigoi, you would do well to share your knowledge with a few trusted allies who can assist you with protecting Cordermo from any future threats.”

  “I will consider who I choose with much care,” Nash said. “Thank you again, Mr. Albescu, for all that you have done today.”

  “It has been my honor, if not my pleasure, Dr. Nash,” the Plague doctor said. “And with that, I should be on my way.”

  Nash frowned. “Will you not stay the night? It already grows quite dark.”

  “No, unfortunately my quest does not allow me to leisure here, even for a single night. There is still much ground I can cover before turning in for my slumber.” Vlad climbed aboard his coach and took Elpis’ reins into both hands. “Farewell, Dr. Nash, and be sure to always remember what you learned here today. You never know when it could save your life in the future.”

  With that, Vlad ushered Elpis onward. Together they made their way through the city streets and back to the large gate that they had come through before. Vlad said goodbye to the sentries who he had seen earlier in the day, and after offering them a gander at his wares for another time, which they promptly refused, he allowed Elpis to continue on the path that stretched ahead.

  It was not until the burning city of Cordermo was nearly out of sight, its putrid black cloud a mere suggestion in the distance, that Vlad finally pulled the mask away from his face.