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Chapter 4

I Can Teach You

From the memoir of Ezekiel Blake:

My kind first rise from the grave on the initial full moon following our mortal deaths, and my own moon came on the evening of August 13, 1620. I awoke in darkness, stretched out on my back, and sealed within an oak coffin. I screamed and lashed out at my wooden prison, splintering the lid with my newfound strength. Soil spilled into the casket with me, and I slithered up through the damp, cold earth to the surface, dirt filling my mouth, nose, and ears. I pulled myself out into the foggy night, crawling from the grave on hands and knees.

I found myself in a cemetery, surrounded by several dozen headstones. The markers to my left bore the names of my parents. I looked over my shoulder and beheld my own gravestone, decorated with a winged skull known as the death’s head and inscribed with an epitaph—“Here Lieth Buried ye Body of Ezekiel Blake who Died in ye 40^th Year of Life.” Puritan headstones were never engraved with anything sentimental like Forever with the Lord, or May His Soul Find Peace. That was not our custom. No, our inscriptions were mere facts, simple, straight to the point, and utterly cold.

Sights, sounds, and smells I could never have perceived before with my human faculties assailed my chimeric senses. The scent of decay permeated the graveyard, and the chirping and scuttling of insects vibrated in my ears. Even in the night’s dimness, I could see as clearly as if it had been daylight. I inspected my hands and was horrified to find them covered in dark fur. My nails were black and sharp. I was cold to the very depths of my body, my organs lifeless as stone. I wept, only to find that my eyes no longer produced tears—they were dry as glass.

I looked up, and there stood the vampire who turned me, his thick mousy-brown hair, long beard, and smooth black cloak rippling in the wind. Vampire. The word was unknown to us back then. I did not hear the term for the first time until the 18^th century. Even now, most blood-drinking revenants refer to themselves as the Anointed.

He held his arms out to me in a beckoning gesture. I felt a flicker of abhorrence, but that inkling vanished in an instant, replaced by overwhelming infatuation. What was this feeling? I remembered how this creature preyed on me in my bedchamber—how terrified I’d been. He should have frightened me. I should have detested him, but all I felt for him now was reverence and adoration.

I knew on some level that these emotions were not truly mine—that he was somehow compelling me to feel this way. I still possessed independent thought, and if I had tried hard enough, perhaps I could have refused his bidding. But I didn’t want to. This love, false though it may be, felt so strong and exquisite. God forgive me, but I gave into those feelings—gave this demon all my heart.

I rose to my feet, covered in grave soil, and ran to him. We embraced, and he enveloped me in his dark cape. We were the same height, well over six feet—our daunting stature would make us that much more frightening to our victims.​ I took in his troll-like visage, his once deathly white skin now a light tan, and his hellish red eyes had turned a vibrant tawny.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“My name is Baldur von Schwarzwald,” he said, speaking with a German accent. He placed a gentle kiss on my dirt-encrusted cheek. “And you have my love, now and forever.”

I left the cemetery beneath Baldur’s cloaked arm, and he took me to his home, an opulent mansion overlooking the Thames. He ushered me inside, and I surveyed the foyer and lounge while he bolted the doors behind us. No candles were lit, but I could easily see the darkened room with its high vaulted ceiling, grand fireplace with a mantel of red marble, and lavish furnishings patterned in red, black, and gold. Thick velvet curtains covered the ornate windows.

“Are you nobility?” I asked.

“I am.” Baldur removed his cape and hung it by the door, then turned to face me. His outfit was immaculate—a slashed doublet of burgundy satin, a white wired collar, and knee-high leather boots. “My family held a barony over a region of the Black Forest in the land you call Almany.” He beckoned for me to follow him to his chambers. “Let’s clean you up.”

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