What if the Vatican had in its possession the dead bodies of Vampires? What if the Vatican had historical records of these killers in their “secret” library for centuries? What if the Jesuit Order was formed to be the official liaisons to and protectors of the Vampire race? What does the Vatican know that we don’t?
CASUS BELLI?
Tarrytown, New York.
The Jeremiah Bosworth Estate
Lorcan is once more among his breathren. He’s already called in his report to von Anhalt at the Chateau Sarcenat in Auvergne, France.
As he anticipated, von Anhalt wasn’t pleased. But Lorcan knows that under von Anhalt’s feeble, uninspired leadership any dream of an independent Vampire Empire is just that – a fantasy – albeit a dangerous one.
Lorcan’s comments were short and sweet. No, Nicolas Flamel never revealed the “Salvation Catalyst” in his secret Magnum Opus, Livre des Figures Hieroglyphiques. The uncensored tome the Vatican Library keeps under lock and key was anticlimactic. It seems the only “living” entity aware of the Salvation Catalyst formula it is Aziel Pindar. That old bastard is still the key. Apparently, all the humans have is a facimilie catalyst they cobbled together with data gleaned from experiments at the Large Hadron Collider in Switzerland. Still, their discovery is sufficient to pave the way for bullets of awesome effectiveness and damage to Vampire anatomy. He kept his private ruminations about the Vampire “Creation Myth” to himself. The old man is incapable of any meaningful, critical discourse at this point. His syphilis is too far gone. Best to keep him in a dark basement steeped in shit, like a mushroom.
von Anhalt has served his purpose. The Young Lions of the Coven are energized – some are on a rampage. Taking control. A coup d’etat is brewing. It won’t be long now before a hot war breaks out. Vampires killing Vampires. The Vampires that survive will inherit the Earth. Humans will once again grovel as pathetic, servile blood bags in queue for slaughter. Vampires will take their place on Earth’s throne, waiting in glory for the return of the Great Ones. Target 2050, the next cycle year of Nibiru entering Earth’s orbit, is close at hand……..and much work remains to be done. When Vampires present their masterwork to the Great Ones – the Sacred Masters of Nebiru – it will be magnificent. A gift befitting their divine splendor. Grandeur beyond words.
At the stroke of Midnight Lorcan makes his way downstairs to the main ballroom. He can hear blasting, pulsating music and muffled screams amplify as he approaches. Women are being massacred…….sacrificed according to the old ways. Their torment intoxifies Vampires. Lorcan feels himself stirring down under – he’s excited anticipating what awaits him tonight.
Canaan has promised him a homecoming that he will not soon forget. He boasts, “Our Eucharist is a Special Kill! Tonight we celebrate Anarchy!” ……..Whatever that means.
Lorcan pushes open the enormous pocket doors that close off the Main Ballroom from the rest of Bosworth House.
Canaan is the first Vampire he sees – then Azurad – and in the back – Hugar, Paran and others.
He’s immediately assaulted by sledgehammer impacts of heavy-metal beats, deafening and raw. Irrational, chaotic noise masquerading as music. The building itself is trembling, barraged by rhythmic and nearly seismic undulations He can see Canaan, shirt torn open and leather pants down about his ankles banging up against bare thighs and legs spread eagle on the main dining table, his head thrown back in screams and moans as he satisfys himself inside the unfortunate soul he’s repeatedly violating. The girl is a blonde. The remains of her dress are torn and shredded around her and deep gashes and cuts cover her chest and breasts. She writhing in agony as Canaan holds her hips in a vice grip in anticipation of his orgasm. Her top half is twisting in a pathetic attempt to get free. She’s bleeding from her vagina – red gore is pouring out of her lower areas with each thrust of Canaan’s hips into her. Her arms and hands are flailing about as she screams…….and she’s banging her head savagely against the oaken table top in a hysterical last effort to commit suicide.
Lorcan lingers in his tracks to admire the spectacle. A Vampire Orgy is truly magnificent. He never tires of this sight. His friend Canaan is in the throes of the Blood Lust – those moments when heavily oxygenated red Hemoglobin of the “donor” is assimilated into his Copper-based “Hemocyatic” blue blood causing “rushes” of ramping intoxication and intensified ecstasy. Engulfed in his excitement and building orgasm, Canaan is in Vampire Heaven……….He releases his semen in an explosive convulsion. His body quakes over and over as he throws his head back to its limit and surrenders to primal thunderous, gutteral howls of pleasure. Lorcan’s head snaps back and forth with each wave of rapture and exhaustive detonations of manhood.
Canaan decouples from the girl and reaches over her bloodied, abused carcass. He grabs her by the throat and yanks her forward. Her scalp is split open, hemorrhaging blood in a torrent…….He quickly fastens his lips over her forehead to drink more of her escaping life’s essence. He wants to taste and feel the delectible warm blood pumping into his waiting mouth with each last contraction of her heart before she goes limp. Her arms wearily strike against him – to no avail. Soon it’s all over. Canaan casts her away like used trash and turns to greet Lorcan.
“LORCAN!!! VAMPIRE BROTHER!!! COME AND FEED!!!!!!” He screams through an ear-to-ear smile, arms raised to the heavens as if he’s inviting his Gods to participate. He’s beyond “Blood Drunk”. His entire torso is swathed in blood and his bare feet are standing in a river of slick gore sluicing outwards on the ancient hardwood floor. The dull lights and candles flickering throughout the huge room enhance its macabre and evil atmosphere. The throbbing, violently loud music and burning candles is sensory-depriving. Between the Blood Lust and sexual frenzy of the Vampires in the room, the psychotic ambiance is electric with death and dying. It is a scene of unbridled insanity, unimaginable even in the depths of Hieronymus Bosch’s debased visions. This is the quintessential ritual Vampires derisively refer to as a “Wedding Supper”. There’s no remorse or reluctance only depravity and celebration as Vampires partake of their own “Eucharistic” mysteries in a feast of blood.
Canaan staggers his way over to Lorcan and grabs his shirt sleeve. “COME BROTHER!!!! TO THE MAIN COURSE!!!! In his hand is a curved razor.
In the middle of the room is another table. A beautiful dark-haired girl is being stretched over its surface – her head hanging over its edge – crying and wildly thrashing about. Her words are slurred – obviously she’s been “Coked Up” by the mansion staff ahead of time – and her face is a war zone of blackening welts and swollen distortions. Evidence of beating is everywhere. Hugar is laughing hysterically and pulling her legs open. He forces his mouth onto her vagina and tears off her labia with his teeth, remaining down below long enough to spit out the flesh and drink from her open wound. Almost instantly the Blood Lust takes hold and he launches into ear-splitting howls. She’s shrieking and writhing in pain. Paran licks her face like a bloodied lollypop and pulls her hair over the end of the table, almost snapping her neck. She’s got upper and lower front teeth missing – she’s obviously been roughed up quite a bit – and her broken nose is swelling so bad it is splitting open. Her blackened eyes look like moon craters. The Vampires have used her as a punching bag – they laughingly call this routine “Fight Club”. It’s a ritualized exercise to be joined-in by all who will feast. Her breasts are gashed open – and welts, teeth and bite marks cover her once-beautiful chest. One of her nipples is missing and the void where it should be is bleeding profusely.
Azurad kicks a large punchbowl to the foot of the table directly under the woman’s head and rips her shock of hair out of Paran’s hand. He pulls her head down with even greater force, stretching her neck skin taut – then Canaan swings his curved razor. The innards of her neck burst forth in a shower of blood and viscera. Canaan keeps screaming and howling – still in the grip of the Blood Lust – slicing at her flesh again and again until her head hangs over the table end by a thread of muscle. Her vertebrae are cleaved through and glisten white in the candlelight.
No one notices a tiny, grey thing the size of a grain of rice slip out of the woman’s shredded neck tendons. It falls to the floor and is lost in pools of blood and butchery.
The Vampires jump at the punchbowl and dive in with cups, bowls, goblets – whatever vessel they can grab close at hand – to greedily quaff the fresh warm liquid. They scoop again and again, swilling the blood until their eyes are rolling upwards in their sockets from Blood Lust intoxication. They scream and howl in primal satisfaction, satiating their bellies full of the depraved beverage. Lorcan gorges himself until his head is about to explode….until his pulse hammers and he feels invincible. He joins his fellow howlers in song – they’re a pack of wild beasts serenading the mutilated corpse before them, mocking it…..humiliating it in a triumphant primal cartharsis. In the midst of his demonic vocal purge Lorcan strips his shirt off and swathes his face and chest in red. He paints himself with the victory and majesty of the kill…. He has become an Angel of Doom, consumed by Death itself.
Lorcan is indestructible…..unconquerable. He craves to bite into this dying woman and eat her flesh – so he does it!!! He’s lost all restraint and has become the beast……he embraces his inner animal with every fiber of his being. He grabs her twitching left arm and buries his mouth deep into her, sucking her still warm sweetness down his throat. YES!!! He is a MASTER of these pathetic fools, these filthy bitch whores.
For reasons unfathomable to him in his delirium he sucks at his delicious carnage – and then ramdomly focuses his wobbly eyes on the girl’s left hand. He blinks over and over to clear the veil of splattered excretions and blood from them. He can’t believe what he thinks he sees. What is that? What the Hell is that??? There is a tattoo of a small Orthodox Crucifix.
Suddenly Lorcan freezes in place and then staggers backwards, his face a mask of red. He struggles to think…..He screams at himself…….THINK!!! THINK!!! THINK, DAMN IT!!!!! He’s seen this mark before. This woman is Varang.
“SHIT”!!! His loud declaration doesn’t stop the others from ripping and tearing at the corpse. They’re in the Blood Lust – it’ll be hours before anyone can think clearly. He started late – so he’s not yet besotted to the gills with Hemoglobin. His first instinct is to run. He can barely stand, let alone slink out of the room undetected.
The others are occupied. He wobbles away, grabbing furniture then groping walls to steady himself – and makes his way to the doors. He slips through, snatches somebody’s black trench coat that’s thrown over a chair and pulls it on to cover his red-swathed torso.
Lorcan bounds out the front doors of the mansion, tripping and staggering down the curving, marble staircase to the gravel below. He shuffles through the driveway stones until he sees a classic Bentley parked in front of the estate garages – the vehicle Bosworth House uses to pick up guests at the airport or dispatch on special occasions to collect visiting Illuminati.
“Could it be……Could it be……….YES!!! Keys are in the ignition! He jumps in the car and grabs a bottle of Poland Spring water out of the console coffee holder. Hanging out of the open driver’s door, he pours the water out on his face and washes the blood off. If he’s lucky and can avoid cops, he can be in Manhattan within the hour.
In minutes he’s tearing down the the main drag of Tarrytown, New York. His mind is racing.
“How could those idiots be stupid enough to abduct a Varang???? AND stupid enough to FEED on her??????”
Even as mentally dulled as he is at this moment, the lawyer in him kicks in. This is a big deal. A HUGE deal. Why?
There are Rules. Even for Vampires. You don’t desecrate a Church – or EVER disparage the Demiurgos, Jesus Christ. You turn away from a Crucifix. You don’t kill a Jesuit. You don’t screw with the NordTurVerein. Or the Aryans. And you don’t screw with their allies, the Varang.
Why? Because these Rules and others like them were codified in 1933 in the Kronengarde Codex – a “Pact” binding the Vampire Race, the Jesuits and selected Human “Tribes”. The Kronengarde Codex is a practical recognition that Vampires are few and Humans are many. That some measure of civilized “coexistance” must prevail because Humans have an advantage in numbers. The goal is for signatories to stay out of each other’s respective ways – and be free to make tons of money. No contact – except for when they want it. There is more than enough food for Vampires without them breaking the “Pact”. Ongoing “cooperative” consultations “fine tune” the Codex as historical events require. Lawyers meet with lawyers and work it all out. It’s all very businesslike. And profitable – for everybody. Even for the US Central Intelligence Agency, who have negotiated their own semi-exempt “status” under the Codex. They are now relatively untouchable. Vampires are painfully aware that the world has become a complex and dangerous place – and information is a key to their survival. The “Langley Boys” have become quite useful and eager to “play ball”. Overall, the Kronengarde “Pact” provides stability, continuity – and, most importantly, prosperity – for all interested parties.
That is – until von Anhalt got a bug up his ass and started a revolution. Has he broken the “Pact?” Has he shattered the tenuous equipoise that is Vampire-Human relations on Earth?
If that girl was Varang – and her torture and death is revealed – all Vampires involved must be slaughtered. That is the Law. All disputes among parties must be resolved according to the Kronengarde Codex. All the Covens must uphold this Law and abide when Justice is done. The equilibrium of “status quo” must be preserved at all costs.
What about von Anhalt? Will anarchy prevail? Will all signatories to the Kronengarde Codex – who have invested blood and treasure and stand to lose on a grand scale – opt for the Law of the Jungle? Lorcan doubts it…….Everybody now has a comfortable “Thing” going. Palms are greased. Everybody benefits. Money. Power. Population control. The Kronengarde Codex keeps the lid on a boiling pot – an overpopulated planet running short of resources. Breaking the Kronengarde Codex will unleash Armageddon.
At its most severe – this event is casus belli: a provocation to war. At very least, von Anhalt and his coven have now set themselves apart. Withdrawn from the rules-based system of balanced interests. He is rogue. Persona non grata. Excomunicated from the fold. As are his minions.
Odds are, the “Net-Net” result of all this is an SOS Order – Shoot On Sight.
Which leaves Lorcan in a precarious position. He was at the Bosworth Estate tonight – a well-known von Anhalt Coven safe house. He took part in the Ritual of Feeding – the Wedding Supper. He howled in Blood Lust with the others. He roared and raged and reveled with his kind as they became one. And he left all his luggage – and Passport and documents – behind when he ran.
If that girl was Varang, he is dead meat.
Copyright, 2023 Jon Croft
Joncroft52@yahoo.com
(*Sorry ’bout the violence – but they’re evil Vampires, Dude)
