What if the COVID Vaccine was a covert government project to eliminate Vampires by degrading their human-blood-sourced food supply? What if it was bungled by Fauci and the National Health Agency bureaucrats and now Vampires want payback? What if Vampires aren’t what we think?
WHO IS HE?
SECRETARY OF STATE OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
COLIN POWELL
Exerpts from United Nations Address, New York
February 5, 2003
“My colleagues, every statement I make today is backed up by sources – solid sources. These are not assertions. What we’re giving you are facts and conclusions based on solid evidence.
Saddam Hussein has chemical weapons. Saddam Hussein has used such weapons. And Saddam Hussein has no compunction about using them again – against his neighbors and against his own people…..”
GEORGE W. BUSH, PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES
March 20, 2003
Exerpts from Address Announcing “Operation Iraqi Freedom”
The White House, Oval Office
(The USA-led coalition) “…..will be free to disarm Iraq, to free its people and to defend the world from grave danger…….the regime threatens people with mass destruction…”
“…..I take the threat very seriously….I take the threat that he (Saddam Hussein) develops Weapons of Mass Destruction…”
CNN – Operation Iraqi Freedon – April 20, 2003
Jim Rosetti, Reporting
“On April 10, 2003, the day after Saddam Hussein’s regime collapsed and Baghdad was securely in the hands of US Forces, the National Museum of Iraq was ransacked. Almost all of the 170,000 cataloged artifacts were stolen or damaged, display cases were smashed and heavy, locked security doors to restricted rooms were literally blown off their hinges.
Most of the items in the Museum were from UR or URUK, the first city-states in human history, dating back to 4,000 BC. There were 5,000 years of written – cuneiform tablet – records taken. For context, consider this: even “ancient” Egyptian records don’t go back that far.
A similar event at the National Museum of Iraq Laboratory at Mosul also occurred the week of April 10, 2003. It was not until April 16, 2003 that the US Army sent troops to “investigate” the looting at both locations and “guard” what little of the artifacts that were left.
Iraqis at the scene of the April 10, 2003 Baghdad looting maintain that unmarked US Army vehicles were positioned at the Museum before its doors were blown open by US Army soldiers. “There was nothing left by the time they abandoned the place. They took everything!” They said. “The treasures of Iraq are gone. Why do they invade us and steal our history?”
EYES ONLY – CENTCOM RESTRICTED
UNITED STATES CENTRAL COMMAND, TAMPA FLORIDA
TO CENTCOM GULF 501/33 STAR UNIT ADVANCE ALPHA
OPERATION BLUE ZIGGURAT
13 APRIL 2003
“G130 HERCULES READY AT SAMAWAH AL MUTHANNA MESOPOTAMIA
TO RECEIVE SARCOPHAGUS AND PRESTIGE ARTIFACTS FOR SHIPMENT TO MCGUIRE AFB NEW JERSEY AND TRANSHIPMENT BY CHINOOK TO BASE HERO. YOU ARE ORDERED TO ALERT CENTCOM ASA M1070 DRAGON WAGON DEPARTS URUK / WARKA FOR DESTINATION SAMAWAH AL MUTHANNA HERCULES TRANSFER POINT. M1070 LAND TRANSPORT HAS BEEN ASSIGNED APACHE AND BLACK HAWK AIR COVER ESCORT STANDING BY.”
GEORGE W. BUSH, PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES
December 14, 2005
“…It is true that much of the intellegence (about Weapons of Mass Destruction in Iraq) turned out to be wrong…..but the war was necessary….”
THE KING JAMES BIBLE
Genesis, Chapter 6
“..There were giants in the Earth in those days; and also after that, when the sons of God came into the daughters of men, and they bare children to them, the same became mighty men which were of old, men of renown.”
2023
I havn’t left this room in two days. I presume somebody carried me up here after I collapsed downstairs after drinking a fifth of my hosts’ Chivas Regal. I’m glad my room has a private bathroom….I’ve been puking and shitting for hours. I awoke to welcome surprise – a tray on a table next to my bed with hot coffee, scones and jam. And a bottle of aspirin. It’s close to dusk now. The whole day’s shot to Hell. Somebody was kind enough to charge my cell phone. I see three new messages from the NJ State Police. Screw ’em.
I’m thinkin’ I’d better drag my sorry ass downstairs and apologize for my conduct. The coffee tastes awesome. The scones ain’t bad either. I could eat a horse.
What looks like regulation Air Force or Navy jeans and denim shirts are hanging in the closet – my size. There’s a pair of Adidas there, too. Fresh underwear is in the bathroom and a stack of towels. I guess somebody is trying to tell me something…..
After a hot shower, I drain what’s left of that coffeee and pop a few more aspirins. I feel a bit more like myself. My head is spinning from what I know and what I don’t know, but I’ve got to try to hammer some sense out of it all.
My room, obviously on the second floor of Hill Grove, faces Long Island Sound. Athough it’s late afternoon, the sight is still breathtaking. I thank God I’m at least in the company of people who got my back. How the Hell did I wind up in this mess? It’s all so weird – even the bed I’m in. I wonder – could this be the room Bogart or Audrey Hepburn stayed in while filming Sabrina here back in the day?
I head downstairs in my government denim and Adidas getup. My room is a few paces from the winding staircase to the grand hall below. As I descend lower with each step I spy Katrina sitting near a Frankenstein-sized fireplace talking to someone sitting in a wingback chair to her left. I can’t see who it is. I can hear her voice…..sounds like she’s tearing the mystery man a new assshole in rapid-fire French.…… She’s getting downright frosty.
I’m walking slow and wearing athletic shoes, so nobody hears me coming.
As I reach the last step on the stairs, I see who she’s talking to and Damn near collapse. I recognize the son-of-a-bitch immediately by his Beau Brummel waistcoat and perfectly starched high collar…by his silk cravat and red-emerald pin…….that pissy-yellow skin pallor and rotten-teeth grimace.
It’s Pindar. Monsieur le Comte de la Mer, Aziel Pindar.
I move forward. Across the room is Roland Sarkisian and August the Valet. Sarkisian’s face looks more nonplussed than inspirational. August stands ramrod erect at his side, like an old Prussian guard dog. Neither one of them makes a sound.
Pindar is focused on Katrina, reposting her machine-gun French diatribe with a dismissive cold stare. His legs are crossed, flashing his absurd stirrup pants and bespoke boots…..His dull, membraneous eyes and sunken cheekbones amplify his snake-like presence. He’s putrified evil incarnate.
Time to clear my throat and spoil this soiree.
My bold gesture cracks the atmosphere like mid-summer lightening splits a hot night. Katrina’s head immediately snaps towards me and her jaw drops open. Her eyes are bloodshot and she looks uncharacteristically emotional. My surprise appearance catches her off balance……she’s momentarily at a loss for words.
Pindar shifts his vapid gaze to me. He leers at me like I’m an insect under a microscope. His boney, transluscent fingers tighten ever so slightly over the elaborate gilded head of his walking stick. No question he instantly intuits what I have in mind. I speak first.
“I’m gonna’ beat you to death with that Goddamn cane right now, old man…”
I spit the words out in blind rage, my hands clenched in fists.
I can feel my blood pressure nearly blowing the top of my head off…….my vision is getting blurry. I’m gonna’ kill this parasite if I gotta’ do it in my death throes……….embolism or not – you’re MINE you pasty-faced sheit-bag.
Sarkisian speaks up. He’s pissed. His voice is loud and clear – and authoritative. He ain’t askin’ – he’s tellin’.
“Enough, Mr. Croft! ”
The volume of his words shock me. I glare at him, my eyes challenging his command – then I back off. He continues in civil tones.
“Monseiur le Comte is a guest in my home!”
Pindar gets up off his chair and faces me, unperturbed. He’s a defiant, impossibly palpable apparition. Real but somehow imaginary. My torment made manifest. That horrifying, depraved thing that lurked under my childhood bed come back to suffocate me. His voice – raspy and croaky – is maddeningly indifferent. Contemptuous and sarcastic. I want to kill him. I need to kill him.
“Ahhh….Mr. Croft. I was just taking my leave…..I offer my sincerest condolences on the death of your wife….and her father. I wish to personally assure you that my associates and I had nothing whatsoever to do with their most unfortunate demise.
May I also assure you that we were not responsible for the unfortunate conflagration that consumed your home….
Thank you for your most kind hospitality, Dr. Sarkisian….I will see myself out…….”
He walks off brazonly, leather heels and walking stick clacking the hard wood floors…..strutting like some pompous and untouchable Napoleonic Ambassador waving his laissez-passer. As he moves closer I catch a whiff of his decay. Walking rigor mortis.
I collapse into a chair opposite Katrina. I catch a glimpse through a front-yard facing window of a liveried, swarthy-looking chauffer holding an unbrella over Pindar as he walks to a black Bentley……and it ain’t rainin’. The chauffer gingerly assists Pindar into the rear passenger area and then secures himself behind the cars’ steering wheel. The black limousine pulls away with at least six of Dr. Sarkisian’s security staff within spitting distance of it, armed to the teeth – their itchy fingers hovering over assault rifle triggers.
My ears are still ringing so bad I can’t hear and my mouth is as dry as a desert. I close my eyes and breathe – trying to compose myself. The silence in the room is deafening. My words come slowly – but they come. My question is raw and impolite.
“What the Hell was that cadaver doing here?”
Katrina speaks first.
“He’s an envoy..…” She says. How odd…….her voice is redolent with sadness. She looks exhausted. Her hands are quivering.
“The people he represents…..want you to know that they had nothing to do with Jeanette’s death – or the death of her father……”
“And what’s that sheit about an unfortunate conflagration that consumed my home? Why were you reading him the Riot Act in French? What did you say to him?” She’s soft-soaping me. Holding back. I don’t like where this is all headed. Katrina just looks away.
August wheels over Dr. Sarkisian, who has on his lap a weathered, charred cash box……oddly familiar to me. He hands it over.
“They burned your house down, Jon…….the same ones who killed Jeanette and her father. This is all that our people could find. I suggest you wear it or keep it close by at all times”.
It takes me a few seconds, but I recognize it. It’s the fireproof security box I keep in my den at home……The baseboard drywall behind the couch is busted clear through to foundation cinderblock, forming a niche big enough to fit this a cash box inside……I’m guessing the masonry shielded it.
I know what’s inside and immediately open it.
Hello, my Lovely………
A 1959 Colt .38 Police Special wrapped in a Bianchi gunleather shoulder holster. And two speed loaders bristling with bullets. The guns’ polished walnut grips still gleam and its faded “blued” finish still screams out old-school classic. The fire didn’t touch it.
Katrina watches with a sceptical – disapproving – look.. “Why a wheelgun?” She asks derisively.
“Revolvers never jam” I say. “Six in the cylinder always go boom.”
August the Valet maneuvers Sarkisian closer to my chair. This time the “Doc” reaches out and touches my hand. His voice is tender but firm. Direct and precise.
“Jon….you’ve no home to go back to. You are in extreme danger. What’s happened to you are warnings………You’re welcome to stay here as long as you want. The two of you are safe here. Nord Tur Verein will cover all expenses for you and Katrina. They already provide the security at Hill Grove. It’s state of the art. Both of you can be my “Second Floor” guests – room and board, for as long as you want.
It will be good to have company for dinner…..it’s just August, myself and our Chef most of the time and this huge place can get awfully lonely. Please let us help…… NTV has made all the arrangements. And – you even have a car if you want to explore the Hamptons. Your friend Hack keeps his Porsche 911 here and has asked me to give you the keys! He’s got himself a new one. Now……that’s an offer you can’t refuse!”
I look at Katrina. She nods at both Sarkisian and me, then looks away. Her red eyes are sunken inside darkened recesses. They’re moist like she’s fighting the flu. Something is up.
It’s the best offer I’ve gotten all day…..My wife has just been murdered and my house is a pile of ashes…….I can be next on the chopping block……how do I say no? At least here we’re safe until I can figure out what the Hell is going on. It makes sense.
“We’ll be happy to share your hospitality – and security – Dr. Sarkisian. It’s been a long time since I’ve been away from the Pine Barrens. A change will do me good…..as long as Katrina also stays.”
“Well, then….it’s settled. August will fill you in on the house routines and we’ve already taken the liberty of ordering you a selection of clothing from LL Bean, Orvis and Brooks Brothers, seeing as how your wardrobe is no longer available. NTV is arranging transport of Katrina’s items forthwith. If you need anything specific, kindly see August and he will complete its purchase and delivery…….he is amazingly efficient.
Dr. Sarkisian’s kindness is overwhelming. Yes, Nord Tur Verein is picking up the tab – but this is his home, for God’s sake…..Am I putting him in harms way? I’m sure he sure don’t need the money. Here I am wrestling with this hole ripped open in my chest from Jeanette’s death and he’s extending support beyond anything I have a right to expect. He seems to hear what I’m thinking…He just smiles and gives me a mischievous wink.
“May I ask a question, Doctor….? My words are halting – tentative even. I don’t want to sound……inappropriate under the circumstances. In fact, I feel downright childish even articulating what’s at the tip of my tongue
Sarkisian good naturedly shakes his head as if he’s relieved to finally entertain my expected laundry-list of questions. He responds eagerly, with a whimsical look on his face. Like the Columbia Professor he is, responding to a class of awestruck undergrads.
“Have at it….”, he says.
“Monsieur le Comte de la Mer, Aziel Pindar…..I feel foolish even asking this………is he a Vampire?”
“No…” Sarkisian replies. There’s a barely perceptible hint of incredulity and humor.
“Monsieur le Comte de la Mer, Aziel Pindar is an Alchemist..…
He was a foundling child raised by Nicholas Flamel, a wealthy property owner and businessman in Paris around 1350 AD….Monsieur Flamel’s house still stands today at 51 rue de Montmorency in Paris, France.”
Sarkisian notes the disbelief on my face and proceeds.
“An alchemical book, published in 1612 – Livre des Figures Hieroglyphiques (Exposition of the Hieroglyphical Figures) – allegedly written by Nicholas Flamel claimed that he – Alchemist Flamel – succeeded in achieving the two goals of Alchemy: a) re-discovering the ingredients of the Philospoher’s Stone, which turns base metals into gold, and b) recreating the Elixer of Life that conferred immortality.
It is said Flamel studied the Emerald Tablet of Thoth, the ancient Egyptian God of writing and knowledge – and the Hermetica of Hermes Trismegistus. It is rumored that Monseiur Flamel first produced silver in 1382 and gold one year later. The famous Freemason, Albert Pike, author of Morals and Dogma of the Scottish Rite of Freemasonry is said to have dined with Flamel in 1853 in New Orleans. Victor Hugo swore he entertained Flamel in Paris in 1862 and gave him an original copy of Les Miserables.
Aziel Pindar is not a Vampire…..but his years and wisdom make him an elder resource that certain……covens.….sometimes seek out in times of crisis and tumult.”
I’m staring at Sarkisian with my mouth open. But he’s dead serious.
“So……you’re telling me that…..that…..thing.…..who was just in this room is over six hundred and fifty years old?
“Listen to me Jon…..tomorrow you’re coming with me to Camp Hero to commence your quest for Answers. What you’re about to learn will destroy your world and what you think is your place in it.
I received the Medal of Freedon from US President George W. Bush and Secretary of State Colin Powell after Operation Iraqi Freedom was concluded……it was a private and somber ceremony. There were no toasts or festive celebrations. Why? We searched for Weapons of Mass Destruction……..We succeeded in ways we never could have imagined. It was the very cruelest antithesis of serendipity.
I suggest you eat well today, get some rest and rise with the sun. Today is your last day of ignorant naivete…..you’re about to see that life is not what you’ve been told. Our world is not what we have been told. We have been lied to by our teachers, our government, our priests and our scientists. Why?
Because this truth can eventually shatter our collective sanity. Tomorrow you learn what a select few – a handful of homo sapiens – keep secret on pain of death. There’s no security clearance high enough for any one man to see all the moving parts of this…….I pray your mind isn’t too taxed by recent events in your life to cope with what you see and hear. I’ve watched grown men plummet into madness upon experiencing these truths. We – our cursed Brotherhood – call it “The E-DEN Revelation”. You will need all your strength, my friend.”
His face is dead serious. I just half-heartedly smile and nod in agreement. “I’ll be ready tomorrow…..” I mutter.
August wheels the Doctor away and I move closer to Katrina. She’s staring out a window, expressionless. She knows I’m looking at her….. new tears well up in her eyes and move down her cheek. She reaches over and touches my hand. Her voice is inconsolable. Her pain is almost tangible.
“They murdered him…..they killed my brother in Prague…..in the Czech Republic…..yesterday. He was only twenty-one…..attending University. He was studying to be a medical doctor. They tore his throat open and left him to die in a ditch…..He was the only family I had. ”
Copyright, 2023
Jon Croft
