“How many?” a man with an Austrian accent that went by Florian asked.
“Sixty-seven,” Marc answered.
“Why else would you kill?” Aelred asked.
“Duty, honour, and love.”
They assumed he had broken out of the trance and was kissing up to his sponsor. Such a feat, even as a temporary slip, worked in his favour.
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“Would you kill if ordered to do so?” a man they referred to as Aelred asked.
“I’ve done so many times,” Marc replied.
“How many?” a man with an Austrian accent that went by Florian asked.
This was a blond man in his forties with a peculiar set of eyes that shone like steel. He was notably tall and built, which left Marc with the distinct impression this was a barbarian in a nobleman’s attire.
Marc noticed they sometimes referred to him as Graf. Marc was familiar with the term, since it was the equivalent of his rank within Germanic nobility.
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Marc did not remember his drink would be laced. The compound made him susceptible to suggestions while permitting interrogators to give Marc commands. This happened several times during the four-hour ordeal, of which he remembered little more than an hour.
Some questions were mundane and often repetitive, but each was designed to measure his worth.
“Would you kill if ordered to do so?” a man they referred to as Aelred asked.
Aelred was an Englishman in his twenties with auburn hair. Those piercing blue eyes were his most striking trait. Whereas that crooked nose and cleft in his chin gave him a rugged appearance.
Had Marc been aware, he might have had something to say about his motherland. What the English did to the Maiden of Orléans was still fresh in the minds of the French.
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The same could be said for the Countess Elizabeth Báthory de Ecsed, colloquially known as the Blood Countess. She was a legend in vampiric circles for purportedly bathing in the blood of virgins. Despite the best efforts of those who imprisoned her, they were never able to erase her likeness from history.
“The masks were primarily used to set the tone.”
The candidate was surrounded by predators, with each mask reflecting the creatures hiding within those in attendance. Evelyn would purposefully play on the theme, creating a lifelike representation of her own face to wear as a mask.
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To further disorient the initiate, they were always brought to an unfamiliar locale. Since Marc had been to the club before, they opened up the Grand Hall, on the other side of the courtyard.
The hall’s ceiling was easily three stories high, and differed in style from the rest of the club. The hall was predominantly fashioned from white marble. There were so many lanterns billowing smoke that he had trouble breathing.
“I remembered wondering why no one else was coughing…”
The masks helped protect a select few. Some members of their society were comparatively famous. For example, Cleopatra in her traditional garb certainly turned heads. Also, it would not take much for a sharp mind to make the connection.
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On the surface, this was a straightforward affair. The sponsor, sometimes known as sire, brought in their candidate. Citizens of the city’s vampire population would ask questions over a wide range of topics. While there was no formal title for the initiate, fresh meat often came up in conversation.
Their sire were required to leave the scene, forcing this newborn babe to bear the brunt of their interrogators… That’s not even accounting for them being drugged…
To further disorient the initiate, they were always brought to an unfamiliar locale. Since Marc had been to the club before, they opened up the Grand Hall, on the other side of the courtyard.
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Warning, oxygen levels at 12.5% and rising. Please proceed to the nearest emergency shelter.
Marc paused when that familiar line came to mind. It was the same line he used on Evelyn, and the one she used for her candidates… A shame that Evelyn was never successful with her progeny…
This rite of initiation had been going on for millennia, a relatively recent addition to vampiric society. The definition of new differed greatly between immortals and the living.
True to her word, this event was an initiation disguised as a party. Susanna did him a favour by forcing him to forget what she was… Knowing there were monsters in my midst would alter the way I interacted…
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“This affair is long, arduous and humiliating,” Susanna pressed.
“I don’t care about that… Just you.”
“You’ll forget everything about my true nature, and the purpose of this party. However, you’ll retain the memories of us as a… couple.”
The change in him was immediate. Marc quirked a brow at the sight of her mask while placing his hands lovingly on her shoulders.
“A beautiful choice,” Marc said before smiling.
“Thank you,” the Contessa said. “Remember, what lies beneath is by far more frightening…”
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“It’s a chance for you to be free of me… and my kind.”
“Susanna,” Marc began. “For you, I’d swim through molten brimstone.”
Susanna took in a sharp breath. Without any visual cues he could only assume his response must have moved her.
“Are you certain that you wish to proceed?”
“To be with you?” Marc confirmed. “Absolutely.”
She let out the air from her lungs, her lips trembling as she did so.
“This affair is long, arduous and humiliating,” Susanna pressed.
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“I can’t do this to you…” Susanna whispered. “…you need to go…”
“Why would I—”
“It’s still daylight. I could claim you stabbed me right here with this silver pin.”
She pointed at the deep recess of her left ear. Given the length of the pin, her death would be quick and painless.
“It won’t kill me,” Susanna reassured him, while offering him the pin. “But it’ll create a plausible story.”
“Why would I want to do that?”
“It’s a chance for you to be free of me… and my kind.”
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