November 1939, taking up where 1871 left off.
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The battle was done. Stalin's forces had routed the Poles, and thousands of soldiers and officers were in the process of being carted off, probably to slaughter. Geoffrey was rather smug about having predicted it...but also irritated at the waste.
"Something I do not miss about being human," he said, a vicious smirk on his face, "is the willingness to slaughter each other for no good reason. Destroy entire civilizations just to prove who's got a bigger dick, and Russians are the worst, for they mix arrogance in with their cruelty." Then he cast me a wary look. "I hope you do not mind my saying this."
He knew how fond I still was of Dmitriy and wanted to remain on my good side, for he was growing hungry and I had yet to give any of my crew the right to feed, yet. Naturally, the last thing a vampire wants is to be deprived of his meal.
So I let him know, "Dmitriy is no longer Russian. Lenin was bad enough, after the Tsar, but he refuses to be of the same race of people as Stalin."
"Can you blame him?"
"No. Gabrielle claims he's a fool. That he lowers himself to the same level as a human butcher with that attitude, but I see his point. And in truth, he had long ago cast aside his Cossack identity."
"I didn't know the Russians were a race."
"They think they are, just like the Germans think of themselves. When those two collide, every vampire in the world will feast well, for years."
We were on the parapet of an ancient fortress in Poland, atop a hill, watching a final group of the officers under guard, far below, in preparation to be marched to the Russian frontier. Its walls were old and crumbling, thanks to the incessant shelling that had taken place around it, but this would serve as a good base for the needs of my group as we gathered our version of livestock for later use.
I had refused to let us feed, just yet. I wanted to make sure we could distinguish between the very brutal victors and the vanquished, seeing as how both sides' uniforms were so dirty they appeared closely aligned. There was also the issue of good communication on the German side; taking one of their men might be noticed, while the Russians seemed far more backwards in both equipment and capability. I was close to limiting our hunt to them, tonight.
Of course, despite all their vaunted treaties and claims and promises, neither England nor France had done the minimum necessary to honor them. Though to be honest, neither was really prepared to actually help Poland ward off the sudden, sharp attack from both Germany and Russia. Which was ridiculous. After years of marching to war, and after Czechoslovakia and Austria, them claiming shock at what happened could only be seen as laughable or self-delusion.
Now Germany could focus on conquering them as Russia set her eyes on Finland. I was happy at neither possibility, for that put the range of our hunting too close to Lugano to be comfortable. And Mussolini was hauling Italy into the morass, as well, so there was that. Nothing wrong with Italian food, but when it's just around the corner you have to be careful about how often you dine.
Fortunately, Nellis had noticed a strong sense of cold in the air, suggesting this would be a vicious winter, so the weather might be on our side. Soldiers fighting in the cold and muck are far easier to take, and their vanishing more readily explained. We'll probably find him once the snow is gone. Identification taken. Buried without a thought. No question as to manner of death. The one truly conflicting thing about war was how no one really gave a damn about the soldier.
I shifted to another side of the parapet to watch the group far below build a fire...for the Russian guards; not the Polish captives. I smiled. The casual brutality of both Russia's forces and Germany's fit my requirement too perfectly.
Then Geoff asked in a halting voice, "Leon, may I ask...?" But he trailed off into wary silence.
I looked at him, waiting.
He took in a deep breath and finally continued, "Why does Gabrielle not release Dmitriy to you? We could use him to translate what they are saying. Make preparations around their plans."
I chuckled. "And understand their curses against us?" I asked. This would not be our first hunt amongst those who considered themselves Cossacks of the finest order.
Geoff was the only one of my crew with knowledge of how my negotiations with her had gone. That my agreement with her had been Franz for Dmitriy, which would have satisfied us all since Franz enjoyed being in her bed and Dmitriy would have been more than happy in mine. That she had reneged on the deal was only a surprise to him.
He also knew she was now based in a chalet north of Stockholm, so her feeding grounds would be Germanic, which Franz could help her with, while Dmitriy would be of no value. But she was also a Blood Angel, and with a capricious nature from long before she was turned, coupled with a streak of cruelty I had seen even as a boy ten years her junior. But Geoff did not know of that. He only saw an arrangement that made no sense, in any way, shape or form.
"Spite," I finally answered him. "Not merely against me, but also Dmitriy for not becoming her mate. She enjoys watching Franz toy with him, now that the little bastard's completely in her bed."
Geoff jolted. "You know this?"
I nodded. "It's her way to remind me she has him and I don't. I never did, really. Franz would lie with me only because I could hurt him if he did not. Now he has Gabrielle as his bed partner. And she will not allow Dmitry access to him. Which suits Franz; he never did appreciate the attentions of men."
"Men?" Geoff's wicked smirk was back. Only he was allowed to cut into my petty little lies to myself.
"All right, me," I snapped. "I thought he had at least become amenable to both sexes. How wrong I was."
"I wonder."
"What do you mean?"
"Well...I've been in contact with a couple of Gabrielle's retinue," he said, very carefully. He knew I would keep this between us, alone, but to have him gossiping about my sister and her choice of companion was dangerous territory. "Apparently, he does enjoy feeding on men who look like you. Not consistently, since you are of rare beauty..."
Spoken without a hint of mockery.
I still chuckled and said, "Oh, stop."
He continued with, "But often enough to be noticeable. He's been seen stalking them and...well...while feeding...assaulting them."
I said nothing. Geoff's ability to gather information never ceased to amaze me, especially since was correct. Dmitriy had told me know in one of his notes. He would send them by pigeon, probably set to fly at dawn, after her court had slipped into slumber.
She disdains me for my attraction to men, he had written, as if my nature is my fault. Lets that bastard Prussian parade around me in nothing but a towel loose about his hips. Says nothing about him raping men with your appearance. She cares only that he joins her bed and no other female's. But what is most galling is, even when he does test her with other women, she allows it. Are you certain you do not want him back?
I could imagine Dmitriy's frustration. Franz was remarkably beautiful, in body and face. But I had mistaken his tenderness with his horse for decency in his soul. Never would I make that mistake, again.
I sighed and looked down the hillside. Trees covered the land but there were areas where they were cut away. Blown away, by artillery. Burned away by the ensuing fires. Fortunately, it had rained heavily, the day before and through the night, so all fires were extinguished. Unfortunately, now trails of thick mud cut through the ground and a pond to my right had filled to overflowing with dark, dirty water.
Many of them were younger. Were healthy and excited about being at war and intent on enjoying all of life's pleasures all at once. For who knew what tomorrow might bring?
Which brought a smirk to my face. None of them had thought tomorrow would never appear, for they were invincible. But my crew had proven them wrong.
Completely wrong.
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