The rain pattered on his head in the dark of a brisk August night. The air smelled of antiquity, of dying grasses and rotting matter. Unaffected by the cold drips of water lightly tapping his head and streaming through his long black hair, he ran through the dank cemetery into the greatest mausoleum. It was fitting, he told himself with a smirk. After all, shouldn't the dead stick together? He was probably no more alive than the very corpses putrefying beneath his feet, feeding the worms.
The mausoleum was quite large and had a square opening, topped by a statue of a crying angel that was broken in several places. Moss had begun to grow on the decrepit structure. He grasped the stone door, fitting his torn, dirty nails into its small indentation. The ground shook as he easily pulled back the large stone slab, revealing only complete and total darkness. Uninhibited by the shadows engulfing the crypt, he indifferently made his way down a damp staircase. Inhaling deeply through his nose, he pondered what a perfect night this was.
As he leisurely walked down the steps, every tap of his foot elicited loud echoes. The hallway began to brighten, dimly lit by candles suspended by golden dishes high up on the crypt walls. The candles burned with an uncanny intensity, despite the water from the ceiling incessantly dripping upon them. And never once did a candle drip waxen heat.
At last he entered a great chamber, which was yet colder than the outside night, chill drops of water falling on his head. There was a great rusted golden bowl in front of him, which housed a blazing blue flame. Small strands of violet danced sporadically yet purposefully within the hot azure ribbons, the amethyst fingers dancing with the same preternatural alacrity and grace as those of the undead. Beyond this blazing fire was a long pathway, lined by the skulls of humans and animals alike. Some were broken and brittle enough to snap in one's hand, while others still retained the strength that only a relatively recent death can provide.
He walked up the path to a great chair placed in front of him. The chair was preceded by several steps, worn only from the moisture of the chamber rather than from any real use; it was common knowledge that the crossing of these steps would mean a fate worse than death for the one foolish and unfortunate enough to be so audacious.
Seated on the monolithic chair was a smaller figure with an apathetic smile. His dull, grey eyes bore a resemblance to almond shaped pebbles lodged into his emaciated face. All of him save his face and hands, which possessed pallor near transparency, was draped in darkness. His dirty blonde hair rested upon his sagging shoulders. If not for the weary look on his face, in his eyes, he would've seemed to be in the prime of his life. But as it was, he seemed more a dark statue than an actual being.
To his right were several other figures, also damp and shrouded in black. All of their faces were concealed by black hoods save the foremost figure. He wore a grin, wider than that of the great man in the chair, and had brilliantly flashing green eyes. There was something beyond just physical beauty behind the attractiveness in those eyes. It was a type of magnetic pulchritude that few could oppose. His black hair stopped just short of his shoulders and framed the petite yet virile features of his face. His skin possessed all of the tight, unblemished beauty of youth, but his eyes connoted the knowledge of centuries. At last the great man of the chair looked up.
"Vitus, it is good to have you here," he said, gesturing to the slim frame standing in front of the imposing chair.
Vitus knelt before the steps, resting his head low on his knee. His wavy black hair fell over the sides of his face and past his leg. Looking up at the man in the chair with cerulean eyes, eyes which spelled both life and death, Vitus responded, "I am sorry I am late, Lord Aurelius. I was…delayed."
The unhooded figure at the side of the throne smirked at Vitus, and Vitus shot him a poisonous glance.
"Think nothing of it. Your company is worth waiting for, Vitus."
Vitus bowed still lower.
"Boy, is this all the apology you have to offer the god of our clan?" snarled the green-eyed man, glaring at Vitus menacingly.
"Though it looks young, it would be wise for you to remember that my body is older…"
"Silence, Keitel. Silence, Vitus," Aurelius snapped, "I have been satisfied by his apology."
At last Aurelius continued, "This, the first full moon of the century, begins my five hundredth year as lord of the Osiric clan. My reign to this date has indeed been full, saturated with triumphs and losses, births and deaths. Most importantly, it has been a reign of absolute secrecy. This has been easy; most mortals will shun anything not easily explained by their primitive sciences. Those who do not are branded mad. And so we have remained hidden from the mortals, free to prey on their supple bodies at will. I presume that there exists no doubt that continuation of my reign would bring like success."
The other inhabitants of the room applauded and nodded in agreement.
"And yet doubt should live. I grow old, though I may not appear so. Hundreds of years of authority and responsibility, of killing and lust, have drained me of life."
Vitus stared at Aurelius dumbstruck. There was an astonished murmuring throughout the room.
"There comes a time in every vampyre's existence, for to use the word 'life' would be a misnomer, when all will is abandoned. All energy is quenched. Existence loses all meaning and purpose. The only choice is to face the death that has been unnaturally delayed."
"Lord Aurelius! What are you saying?" shouted one vampyre from crowd.
"Soon, with the very same dagger that the last clan leader used to take his own life, I will take my own. I must meet the fate that the undead are all destined to. The dagger of Khamal will again usher in new rule, and in the time leading up to my self-inflicted demise, I must assign an heir."
A gloomy silence dominated the great room until Keitel interrupted, "Lord Aurelius, it would greatly please me to…"
"Yes, I supposed that you would desire this position. Still, I cannot yet be certain who will take my place. This is something I will have decided before I leave this world."
Aurelius scanned the room, balancing his head in his palm.
"Vitus, would you be…"
"But Lord! Vitus is much too…"
A collective gasp sounded throughout the room. Contradicting the lord of the clan was not expressly prohibited, but it seemed to possess the same irreverence as throwing a stone through a stained glass church window.
"Do you question my judgment, Keitel?"
"No, my Lord."
"Very well. Vitus, would you be interested in filling this role, should you be chosen?"
"Very much."
"And Casius?"
An elderly man with long grey hair stepped out from the group of hooded vampyres. His brown eyes were bordered by tiny wrinkles parting his tan skin. In an elderly voice, he answered, "Yes, I would be very much interested."
"Good then. Before my death, whenever that may come, I will appoint one of the three of you to reign after my demise. This is all I have to say."
Looked around the room at the hundreds of eyes staring at him expectantly, Aurelius slowly lifted and pointed his hand and moved it in a small triangle. Then, outstretching his hands to encompass the great mass, he loudly commanded, "Go. Drink and live."
Without a word, the vampyres began to slowly walk toward the exit of the great room, following each other in a line so neat that it appeared premeditated. With graceful steps, they slowly floated out of the room.
"Casius, Vitus, Keitel…I still desire your company," Aurelius said, authoritatively motioning the three to his throne.
Keitel briskly walked up to the bottom step to the throne and kneeled low, smiling as he extended his arms outward. Casius and Vitus followed slowly, standing just behind Keitel and bowing their heads to Aurelius in quiet respect.
"I must warn you all that any dishonesty, any treachery, demonstrated to succeed me can come to no gain. If any…"
"My Lord!" Keitel quickly interrupted, "I would stake my own heart with the dagger of Khamal before I'd ever even think of doing anything to cheat either you or the clan…"
Smiling at Keitel wryly, Aurelius continued, "For your own sake, I hope you speak truthfully. If any of you prove the slightest bit disloyal, your punishment will be far worse than any pain the dagger of Khamal could possibly inflict."
Aurelius let out a small laugh and snickered, and for the first time the bravado exuded by every feature of Keitel's face wavered. Yet both Casius and Vitus retained the same stony, expressionless faces they had shown all night as they gave Aurelius a slight nod.
"But that goes without saying," Aurelius added, smiling even more widely as he looked down at Keitel's momentarily uneasy face.
"Of course, my Lord," Keitel answered, quickly regaining his composure.
"I'm glad you understand. Go." Aurelius once again repeated the triangular movement. "Live and drink."
The three vampyres gave Aurelius low bows, turned around, and slowly walked out of the room. As they left the room, the air of formality immediately dropped from the three. Casius let his back settle into its familiar hunch, and Keitel's once agreeable face settled into a restless scowl. Vitus swished the hair out of his eyes with a quick flick of his head and meditatively furrowed his brows.
"You seem disturbed, Keitel," Vitus remarked mockingly.
"Aurelius has gone mad," spat Keitel.
Casius and Vitus both let out spiteful laughs.
"And what led you to that conclusion?" Casius asked dryly as he raised his eyebrow.
"The two of you…you're far too soft to ever run the Osiric clan."
Casius gave Keitel a look of amused incredulity, but a shadow passed over Vitus's face. His dark blue eyes seemed to grow almost black, and the line of Vitus's clenched jaw became just slightly noticeable in the dim light of the torches.
"No, Keitel. It's just that you're slime," Vitus replied matter-of-factly.
Keitel let out a bemused snicker, but Vitus continued, "I know very well the proper life of a vampyre. Kindness, love…they are but inconsequential notions to satiate the weak-minded. Power is all that matters. And the only way for a vampyre to obtain that kind of power is to find the most powerful human available, just to spite the climax of mortal strength, and adeptly drain the life out of it by digging his teeth into its jugular. Any hesitation, any mercy, is simply a sign of weakness. Being 'soft' is not an option."
The three had finally exited the dank stairway, and Vitus shut the mausoleum behind them. The moon cast a completely different glow on the three, bringing out even more the deathly pallor of their faces.
Nodding in agreement, Casius added, "A true vampyre has enough power of his own, so that he plays the sycophant to no one. You speak of Aurelius with derision now, Keitel, but the fact still remains that you might as well be his dog."
"Careful how you speak," Keitel hissed, approaching Casius threateningly.
"Learn your weapons, Keitel. Learn your strengths. Intimidation is not one of them. And you will never get the throne while I live to take it," Vitus said casually, as if he were simply making some remark about the beauty of the slim crescent moon softly shining down upon them.
"Don't lecture me," Keitel snarled back, "You're foolish to even hope such a thing."
"And what makes you so sure that you will hold the throne?" asked Casius, gesturing to both Vitus and Keitel.
"Surely you don't expect to succeed Aurelius, old man. You would be better fit to gum the blood out of sewer rats," Vitus remarked sardonically.
"And you would be better fit at the mother's teat, child."
Vitus and Casius stared into each other's eyes, their faces expressionless. Vitus's eyes glared just inches above those of Casius. The gaze between them seemed to add a certain heaviness to the air. Vitus's deep blue eyes radiated energy into Casius's dark, almost opaque brown ones. One had the sense of being in the eye of a storm. All at once, the wrinkles at the edge of Casius's eye began to undulate and grow. Small grins began on Vitus's and Casius's faces, until all at once the two began to laugh uproariously, patting each other hard on the shoulder.
"You have a clever tongue, old man," Vitus laughed.
"The body of an old man and the body of a man of only ten and nine," Keitel sneered, "Neither of you possess the appearance of physical fortitude necessary to command respect as a clan leader, regardless of the time you have spent wandering the earth. And above all, neither of you possess the cruelty and steadfastness needed to lead the undead."
Vitus laughed, "My strength, cruelty, and steadfastness are all known. What you speak of is disloyalty and duplicity, against enemy as well as clan."
"I have never betrayed the clan. It is you who cannot be trusted."
"I would expect such a statement from you," Vitus answered airily, "The night is dying, and I have no time for your absurd accusations."
Vitus turned and began to walk through the cemetery toward the nearby brush.
With a restless glint in his eye, Keitel shouted after Vitus, "I know what you're doing, Vitus. And soon Aurelius will know too. We all will watch you suffer for your treachery."
Vitus paused for a second. His body grew tense, and in a wave every muscle in his body seemed to relax. Vitus slightly and slowly turned his head around to so that he could just see Keitel in the periphery.
"You're right, Keitel," Vitus said indifferently, "I do seek the downfall of the clan. I will rise to power and betray you all. You will be the first to suffer, but the last to die. It's just a matter of time before I take your teeth, Keitel, and watch you slowly wither."
Keitel let out a gasp and appeared to take some time to register what was just said until his face finally developed a look of indignation.
"And I dare you to prove it," Vitus finished with a condescending laugh. He began walking once again and slowly disappeared into the heavy brush of the forest, leaving behind him only shadows eerily warping and swaying in the moonlight.