The Division of the Damned (11 page)

Count
Vlad Dracyl started to laugh. Centuries had passed since the birth of his kind. They had been condemned to hunt by night and hide by day since the time of the old
God
s. Humanity had been spared subjugation and slaughter only by the wrath of the sun. Now humankind had provided the means of its own enslavement. It was too rich to be true.

Rasch looked on
,
bemused
,
as the
c
ount
whirled around and around, laughing like a lunatic, drunk with joy.

*  *  *

Von Struck walked up to the front door and let the huge knocker crash down. Marik opened the door and he followed him into th
e hall, noting the dust and run-
down state of the décor. He met Rasch and the
c
ount
in front of the study.

"All seems to be in order, Standartenführer. Let me introduce you.”

He turned to the
c
ount
.
"Count Dracyl Blestamatul, Standartenführer Markus Von Struck."
Von Struck dutifully clicked his heels together
.

The
c
ount
nodded.

"So when can we see your troops,
Y
our Excellency?" Rasch asked.

The
c
ount
looked at the huge grandfather clock by the door to the library. "This evening?” he suggested.

"Excellent!” Rasch nearly clapped. "That will give us enough time to get the men rested and make them presentable.”

Von Struck didn’t like the way Rasch spoke of the men like horses, but he let it drop.

"Marik will show you to your rooms, Herr Doctor. I hope you will both feel comfortable.
Until later on, then."

With that, the
c
ount
nodded and left them in front of the main stairs.

Von Struck turned to Rasch. "I’m going to sleep with the men but
let’s get one thing straight, Herr Doctor. We will not parade the men round like a palace guard. They have just come from the Eastern front and this will be treated as a period of recuperation for them, not as your own personal tick-tock marching machine. Have I made myself clear?”

"Yes
,
perfectly, Herr Standartenführer," Rasch answered, tight-mouthed and furious. His success with the
c
ount
had elevated him, in his mind, to a station above Von Struck and his little band of Waffen SS brutes. He would write a report up after this was all finished that would send Von Struck to the Eastern front until he retired.

Von Struck went on. ”The men are rationed
‘
til tomorrow. After tomorrow we’ll be on the
c
ount
’s good grace, so you need to talk with him about it. Your first duty is to the men here, Herr Doctor, and not to your career. Don’t forget the men, Rasch, and we’ll get on fine. Understood?”

"You’ve made yourself perfectly clear.” Rasch almost smiled. He would ruin Von Struck’s career and sail to new heights within the Party, all on the strength of this one mission. Berlin’s high society would welcome him back with open arms and he would tread on Von Struck like a worm ….

"
Doctor, what’s gotten into you?
" asked Von Struck.

Rasch blinked and came out of his reverie.

"For a minute there you blanked out. Are you alright?”

"Oh yes, er, fine
,
” Ra
sch stammered.
”Just tired
.
I will go to bed. Sleep well, Standartenführer."

Rasch left him and walked up the stairs towards the waiting gaze of the ghostly Marik.

Von Struck shrugged and went to the stables. He paused to take in the rising sun. It had been a long night and he was very tired. He heard something in the distance. He strained his ears and listened. He was sure he could hear wolves howling.

*  *  *

They had endured their first casualties in the night. The alarm had been raised in time by an all-too-alert sentry and, although the massacre had been complete and they had feasted, two of their number had been wounded. The wounds themselves were not fatal. Only the sun, silver, decapitation or the cross could kill them. But, slowed down by their handicaps, they hadn’t made it back to the barracks in time and the sun’s scorching reach had raked them to dust.

Theirs was a slow and agonising death. The skin blistered, cracked and fell off the flesh. Bones powdered as if in a kiln and eyes boiled in their sockets. Their feral screams echoed through the wood as the vengeful sun gave vent to its po
wer over them. A shadow of ash wa
s all
that would remain. They now only numbered thirty.

They showed no remorse for their fallen comrades, only fear of what th
e
Master
would say. His anger was terrible to behold and his punishments were fierce. They were as broken and callous as guard dogs. Well trained, vicious and true, they only knew the two emotions: bloodlust and fear of the
Master
.

2

Chapter 15

That same night, Michael took Smith to a small room at the back of the building and turned to him as he put the key in the door. "This is my room. You can hide here. No one ever comes here, not even Maria, so you’re quite safe." 

He opened the door and led him into a small, tidy room with a bed, a table with two chairs, and a bookcase filled with books. The only light came from two candles, one on the table and one in the window. It was dark but somehow
cosy,
and it gave the impression of cleanliness.

"Sit down, English. I’ll pour you a drink.” Michael turned to a small shelf with a bottle of clear liquid on it and a couple of glasses.

"I don’t need a drink. I just need to be out of the way of the damn Bosch. I need to get my weapons from my room. What the hell is going on? What is Jerry doing here?" Smith’s guts were writhing as his concern about the situation began to overwhelm him.

Michael poured and Smith took the drink and tossed it greedily down in one, instantly bringing tears to his eyes and leaving his thro
at raw
as he thrust his glass forward for another.

"So what do you think of your brother’s offer?” Michael asked as he sat down.

"Did you hear
everything
that was said?" Smith gasped.

"Most of it.
I don’t normally eavesdrop but I’ll explain why I did later.” Michael tipped his glass back and emptied it too.

"It really is quite odd. You can’t begin to imagine how queer this all is." The drink had worked its calming effect on Smith and he found himself beginning to warm to his new-found ally. He paused to look at Michael opposite him. “Who are you, Michael? You’re not with them, are you?”

"No, English, I am most definitely not with them. Nevertheless, before I tell you anything, I need to know what you think about what’s going on here. For example, what is your interest in Maria? Or how do you greet the news about your long lost brother? Tell me these things and, if I’m satisfied with the answers, I’ll tell you what I know.”

Smith thought for a minute how he should answer. He hadn’t really given much thought to anything these last few days; events had just seemed to take over.

At first he had been infatuated with Maria but now he was more intimidated by her. She was definitely too aggressive and dominating for his liking. The night he had spent with her had been almost dreamlike and he couldn’t imagine his acting the same way ever again. He’d been maddened with lust, overtaken by a furious, insane desire to have her. Shame shadowed the memory of his behaviour on that night.

As for his brother, he was completely in the dark about everything to
do with him. If he hadn’t been sent here by the military, he would have thought that this was all some elaborate ploy to con money out of him. It really had been an educational couple of days.

"What or who is Utu?” Smith asked, offering his glass again, the initial shock of the alcohol having worn off.

"I’ll tell you after you answer my questions," Michael answered as he poured.

"To be truthful, I have no real feelings for Maria. I know it sounds terrible of me, bearing in mind what happened last night
.” H
e knocked his drink back and looked up. "You
do
know what happened last night, don’t you?”

Michael nodded.

Smith shrugged. "Last night, the whole evening, I was someone else. It wasn’t me that slept with Maria, it was another me. It’s hard to explain. Maria isn’t my
type,
it’s as simple as that. As for my brother, well I don’t really know how to answer that. It’s been quite a shock, I can tell you, to find out that I’m not just some orphan and that I do have a family with a history. But this whole ‘breed a child for the family’ thing is really too much." Smith started to feel annoyed as he contemplated his situation. "The whole thing is too bizarre for words. That they want
me
to father a child with some young girl that I don’t even know, and all for some damn book that, well, it’s all a bit too much, it really is. I’m not a damn machine!” He snatched his drink off the table and gulped it down in one again. Michael nodded sagely, saying nothing, his face impassive, as if waiting for more. Smith decided that he’d said enough and the silence spanned between them. Smith pushed his empty glass towa
rds the bottle. "Well,” he said.
”
A
re you going to answer my question or not?”

Slowly Michael reached for the bottle and poured two more measures out. "Drink, English, you’re going to need it. Utu was the Sumerian
God
of the sun.”

"He was what?" Smith exclaimed. "Oh, and I thought he was African
." H
e laughed to himself.

Michael ignored him and carried on
.
"What do you know about the stories of the Old Testament?”

"Only what I was taught in school and I’ve forgotten most of that.”

"A lot of the stories, myths, or whatever you want to call them,
are
corruptions of older Sumerian legends. Noah’s Ark is the most well known but the Tower of Babel, The Creation, even Cain and Abel can be attributed to Sumerian legends, although the Sumerian version manages to avoid murder. Many of the characters in the Old Testament can be found in far more ancient texts, only under different names. Do you understand what I’ve just told you? It really is quite important. I belong to an order of Christian Knights who have dedicated themselves
to the cross. We have access to records that span thousands of years. We have, over the years, amassed a library of ancient scriptures that dwarves that of any other library or museum in the world.”

"Christian knights, you say? You mean like the Templar Knights? Weren’t they wiped out by the church? I’m sorry,
but
what has this to do with the Germans, Maria, my brother and anything else we’ve discussed tonight?” The potent drink had snaked through Smith's veins and he was feeling the full weight of his fatigue pulling his eyes shut.

"Everything.
Please bear with me. It’s important that you know the background. The orators and the writers of the Old Testament edited the stories to make them more pleasing to the masses. Many of the stories that were originally part of the ancient oral tradition were not included in the written texts. Perhaps they clashed with the message the writers were trying to put across or they were too sordid for the Jewish audiences of the time. Whatever the reason, there is a whole second Bible of lost legends and myths that have never been put down in writing.”

Smith was beginning to lose his patience. He yawned. "Michael, for pity’s sake,
tell
me what I need to know. This bunk about the Bible is not important right now. Don’t you, or can’t you, understand that?"

"English
—
Major Smith, I swear to you that this has everything to do with why you’re here, your family, Maria, the Book of Blood, everything. Please listen to me. I can’t help you if you don’t know what this is all about and, more importantly, you can’t help me.”

Smith finally gave in to his body. "I’ve had it, Michael, I need to sleep. Let me get some sleep and I’ll listen with one hundred per cent concentration when I wake up. Is that fair?"

"Sleep here, then,” Michael said, pointing to the bed. "I’ll keep watch. It’ll be daylight soon so there shouldn’t be any problems." He moved to snuff out the candle on the windowsill. "But later, English, we must talk. This is far bigger than you against the Germans. This i
s a war against another species
—
”
He turned back to see Smith hadn’t heard him for he was already asleep in his chair. Michael put the glasses and the bottle away and knelt down by his bed to pray.