The Purging

Not so happy returns

CHAPTER 5

After the triumph that was the opening attack on human civilization, Torrig Balder and some of his cohorts have returned to their forebear's fortress to make a report. Stepping off the helicopter at the base of the Zugspitze, the comfort of the freezing air delights the milling group of night kin. A welcome committee is waiting with adulation, handshakes and a choice selection of bound and gagged humans for those who are so inclined. The revelry is broken intermittently when each successive member of the group asks Torrig what the hell happened to his face. Some of his more clever cohorts have already taken to calling him 'lefty'.

Led through an ornately decorated ski chalet, the group fawns over the masterpieces on the walls and the priceless statuary standing in every corner. Taken past the swinging chandeliers in the dining hall and granite counter tops of the kitchen they come to a back staircase. Down the winding staircase there is a rustic cellar, filled with a veritable rainbow of wine, spirits, and rare bottled bloods. The whole of the chalet is a monument to the very height of ostentation. All of this compounds the shock when they are told to jump down into the sewer drain under the cellar.

Damp, murky and rank with the odour of effluvia and rotting flesh, the sewer seems to stretch on forever. Walking ever further down into the earth, they branch off into a sequence of moss covered tunnels. Deeper within, they come across a colourful sequence of cave paintings. Featured prominently are three particular images; the sun, a hand, and a cloud of flame pouring out of a volcano. Not one of them is completely sure what the symbols mean. Whatever it was couldn’t be good, fire and vampires do not mix. To Torrig, it almost seemed like a representation of a possible vampire apocalypse. Not one they cause, but one they will suffer, or did suffer, a long time ago. Past the ancient artwork, in the coldest recesses of the tunnels, Kagan waits impatiently for their news.

Cross legged on the dirty ground munching angrily on a screaming human, Kagan takes no notice of his subordinates' arrival. He is all but naked, wearing only a pair of badly torn, heavily stained underwear. Dried blood covers his brawny torso from stem to stern and a heap of emaciated corpses are piled to the ceiling in the far corner. Finishing off his current repast and casting its empty shell aside, he grunts loudly, glaring up at his guests with cold, red eyes, “Oh... What!?!” The aggression in his voice knocks some of the crowd right off their feet. Shivering in the presence of their ancient ancestor, many are unable to form a simple sentence. None are capable of meeting his savage gaze. Not at all impressed by their inherent weakness, he challenges them to act, “Did I not just ask a question!?! Is there nothing but mice standing here before me? Did you lot come into my home to stare at your feet or to tell me how the attack fared? Behave like my generals or I will make you my food!” He means what he says. Kagan is hungry and vampire blood tastes just as good, if not better than human. Either his generals will impress him with their strength or they will nourish him with their insides.

Scorned into action, Torrig is the first to speak up, “A massive success master. Scores of the human filth line the streets of Los Angeles. I personally left at least one hundred in my wake. As was your command, I made sure to leave as many wounded as I killed. A legion of fledglings will rampage in the aftermath.” He is all but certain he will be greatly rewarded for his victorious boasting.

The pleased expression that Torrig was intending to illicit in his mentor does not materialize. Instead, he sees only a face brimming with condescension and homicidal rage. The master was expecting a much more respectful audience. Those who come before the forebear are meant to pay their patron the homage he so richly deserved. He is a God after all, the eldest, greatest member of the most perfect species the world has ever known. Animi, tractatori, humans, and the rest are all just meat and slaves to serve the interests of his mighty cabal.