Chapter 16

Journal of Artemis Strapp

March 13th

Through a series of acquaintances, I found a man of the cloth who kept old books and records that were, according to one individual, “debatable as to their accuracy”. This immediately appealed to my curiosity! So, I started out.

It took the better part of over two hours to travel by wagon from Fells Point to the far northwest side of the city to Cathedral Cemetery. The route took me west, parallel to the B & O (Baltimore & Ohio) Railroad, so named for its tracks leading to Ohio; then north up Fremont Avenue. My trip was interrupted or detoured several times due to Union blockades of certain streets and avenues, sanitation and building construction projects, or several of the impromptu street markets which seemed to spring up on a daily basis. Once I arrived, I spied a small white building on the grounds of the cemetery that was less a church and more a rectory. The disheveled and dilapidated structure seemed most unsafe. If it had been perched on the side of the river, I imagined it would slide into the dark waters and no one would be the wiser.

I knocked on the shambles that passed for a door, afraid it would crumble from the assault. The door creaked open and pair of hooded eyes stared out at me.

“What the hell do you wan’?” Hooded eyes asked.

“Sir, my name is Artemis Strapp, physician…” I left out the “former” part since I was certain this gentleman would not check references.

“…and I am seeking records that may assist me on a bit of research I am currently working on. Would you be so kind as to let me in so I can peruse your records?” I asked. A light rain had begun to fall. In a matter of minutes, I would be soaked to the bone. I smiled my best fancy-doctor smile at him.

The door cracked open wider. A very small man, with a bent spine stared at me. His body seemed broken, but his eyes betrayed a keen intelligence.

“Physician you say? Well, come in out of the weather Dr. Strapp and sit by my fire. Hello. My name is Randall Allan. Pleased to meet you.” He took me by the hand, with surprising strength I might add, and hustled me inside. The interior of the rectory was a lifetime away from the exterior. It was warm, inviting, with shelves and shelves of books. Several plush chairs sat by a large fireplace which put out an excessive amount of heat. Large, bearskin rugs and blankets adorned the floors and chair backs. I felt very much at home in this place.

A huge portrait of a dark-haired fellow stared back at me from the far wall. The face seemed familiar, although I did not know why.

“This man in the portrait. Who is he? The face is so familiar.”

We sat by the fire. Mr. Allan pointed at the portrait. “That is Edgar Allan Poe, the great poet and writer. My cousin.” He said.

“Really? Poe was your cousin?”

“Well, yes and no. I was one of several illegitimate children sired by his adopted father, the successful merchant from Richmond, John Allan. Edgar and I associated in his teens, and then a bit later when he was at West Point. Nice man, great writer, had a pretty bad drinking problem. Such a shame.” Randall turned to me with those inquisitive eyes. I felt there was more to the story but did not want to appear rude and ask Mr. Allan more. I studied him though. Tufts of hair standing from his head at all angles, glasses perched on the tip of his nose, and a sense of confidence. A huge silver crucifix hung from around his neck on a sturdy chain. He noticed me staring at the crucifix.

“Am I a religious man you ask yourself? Well…in the sense that I am the keeper of the flame so to speak. I consider myself a guardian of knowledge. The boatman who moves between this shore and the next if you will.”

“Are you a priest Mr. Allan?”

“Randall is fine. No, I am definitely not a man of the cloth, but I believe all right. So, what have you come for good Doctor Strapp?”

“I need to learn more about something…uh…not entirely…natural…” I stumbled over the words. Normally so proud and vainglorious, now filled with doubt when faced with a person who might be skeptical in the least, or laugh in my face at the worst before kicking me out into the cold rain.

“I know you wouldn’t be here if you were seeking the normal. For me, there is only the other. The night…those that seek, hunt, hide, and take. I have many records Doctor. But, be warned, once you enter this nighted realm your mind will be blasted and nothing will allow you to go back to the veneer of life as you once knew it. So, I ask…are you ready sir?” Randall stared at me.

His words had me in a quandary.

“Uh…I am not certain how to respond to your query Mr. Allan; Randall. I came to ask if you had any experience with…” My mouth was dry.

“Vampires Doctor Strapp?”

No reply was needed. He could see in my eyes this was the reason I came calling. Now I recognized this man. The same one who watched me when I met Lucius.

“You have been following me sir.” I said to him. I began to wonder if my visit here was a mistake.

“Yes, this is true Doctor. I have followed you, and not just on the occasion you saw me. Why you are probably wondering to yourself. If you would like the answer to that question, as well as the ones you came here to ask about vampires, I suggest you walk with me Doctor.”

Randall stood and led me to a door I had not noticed before.

He drew a key from his pocket, unlocked the door, grabbed a lamp, and entered the dark portal. We descended for what seemed like an eternity into darkness, the only illumination from his lamp bobbing ahead of me. The mystery staircase seemed to coil in a great circle. I surmised that we must have been below the water table by now. How this could be I was unable to say. I was shaken out of my thoughts upon hearing an iron door open. I followed him down a straight corridor constructed of brick, stone, mortar, and more iron. Moss and weeds grew from the walls and reached from the floor. I heard the pitter-patter of water seeping from somewhere overhead and finding the ground below. I smelled a musty odor tinged with river water, iron ore, dirt, and something more ancient.

Another door preceded us. Randall stopped. This one was unlocked. He opened it and inside was a well-lit room, circular and filled with artifacts. But these were not scientific artifacts, although they seemed to have been curated in a very orderly and specific manner. The walls contained weapons of all kinds. Swords, both long and short. Lances and spears. Longbows and crossbows. Silver-tipped arrows in quivers. As I walked through the room, I noticed a small case with two pistols. A silver cross adorned each pistol handle. Next to them, a small wooden box loaded with what I surmised were silver bullets. Upon quick examination, I discovered all the blades and sharp ends were made of silver as well.

The room was dominated by two large, rectangular tables. Built from solid oak, I had no idea how they were transported down here, but they seemed as old as the walls in this catacomb of a room. Hundreds of large tomes were laid on the tables. Order was apparent in the cataloging and naming conventions I read on the edges of the binders:

Volume 1: 41AD-400AD

Volume 2: 400AD – 800AD

On and on the volumes continued until I found what I realized must be the current volume:

Volume 587: 1600AD –

“We’ve been watching you for some time Doctor. A determination had to be made concerning your acumen to take over the role of Guardian. I believe you are ready now Doctor.”

His words startled me. I had not seen or heard him standing behind me. I faced him, not understanding the words he had uttered.

“What did you say? I do not understand Randall. Guardian?”

Randall placed a gnarled hand on my shoulder.

“I am broken as you can see Doctor. My spine, my hips. Victim of creatures not of this world, but yet of it. My days of battle are long behind me. We have chosen you to carry on. To replace darkness with light. To protect where possible. To destroy when not. Your soul. Your will. Your pain has led you to this place sir. Destiny has led you to this place. In these volumes…”

Randall gestured to the volumes on the tables,

“…are the histories that have been recorded since the earliest days. And, before these volumes the Bible itself speaks of dark creatures roaming our land. Now, before you rain questions down on me, I would ask that you read some of what is contained inside. Understand what Guardians have been tasked with and the nature of the various threats we have faced throughout history and time-immemorial. So…sit…read…I will come back to check on you Doctor. But, a warning. My cousin Edgar Allan. HE was also a Guardian. He experienced many strange and terrible sights which spilled out into his poems and stories. In the end, the weight of what he carried was too much for him and it took him.” Randall left the chamber on silent feet while I sat, staring at the mountain of books in front of me. I had no idea where to begin, so I began at the beginning: Volume 1.

Inside the front cover:

41 AD

Rome has given birth to creatures of the blood who exsanguinate the populace at will upon nightfall. Only the Guardians possess the strength to do what must be done. The Emperor must die.

I closed Volume 1. Rome? What had I stumbled upon?

I searched my memory before reading further. In 41AD Caligula was still the Emperor at the time. My classical studies taught me that he was assassinated by the Praetorian Guard. Most interesting.

My brother Guardians, the Praetorians, have vowed to destroy the creature when opportunity presents. Perhaps at the Games on the morrow, when Gladiators come together in harsh battle for the Emperor’s pleasure. Yes, that may be the time! The populace is behind us due to the vile nature of his reign, but they do not know the truth. Gaius Caesar Germanicus, “Caligula”, was not just an evil, amoral man…

No. This Emperor wore the face of a man, but was in fact “Vampiro”. The creature who walks among us. Dead but not dead. Drinker of blood. The vampiro, normally a secretive night creature, was seduced by the power of the office after taking the young Gaius’ life force six months after he ascended. The boy Emperor lay as if dead for those long months, and when he awoke, all traces of the human were gone, replaced by the vampiro. Weak by daylight, but able to survive, Caligula performed profane acts of debauchery at night, eventually infecting the Queen Mother as well.

I write this now to keep the record as we do. If I live not after this day, pray that I have done enough to keep evil at bay once more.

To keep the night at bay, lest we all perish.

Tacitus IV, Guardian

I closed the volume and opened another. Entry after entry spoke of the vampiro, or what the Guardians also termed Vampiris-Nosferatu, and other grisly creatures such as the wendigo and poltergeist; some without names. In one entry I found a reference to the PACK, and the word werewolf.

For some reason, silver seemed to be the key in all these instances. Silver extract was often used as a potion for healing, or sometimes, as a numbing agent; as in thwarting, or preventing transformations. A memory lingered and stroked the back of my mind at the mention of silver extract, but I was numb and had but scratched the surface of any volume. The sheer amount of history material stunned me. I closed the volume I was on and sat back trembling.

Then it was so!

Death, life; all a shroud covering something unknown to most but all too real. I had so many questions I needed to ask Randall. As if hearing my psychic summons, he appeared next to me with a plate of hot food and steaming mug of coffee. I stretched my arms and realized I was stiff.

“You’ve been at it sometime Doctor. Almost four hours.” He said.

“Four hours? I have lost track of time it seems.”

Randall looked deep in thought for a minute or two before speaking. When he spoke, it was as if he were speaking to himself and not me.

“It happens. When I first read the Volumes, I did not sleep for two weeks. I barely ate or drank. I was consumed by the pages, digging in deeper every minute, every hour. Day by day. When I was spent, my mentor began teaching me about the Guardians. And, when you are ready, I will teach you Doctor.”

~~~~ The following excerpt was obtained, through great personal hazard and difficulty. It is a fragment; an incomplete record and brief history of Vampiris-Nosferatu. With this record we shall endeavor to create a coherent battle strategy. GOD helps us. ~~~~

Anonymous Guardian, 1548

We exist.

We have existed.

We will always exist.

During the time of the GREAT REAPING it came about that we were divided. Now, all is as it should be:

BLOODS retain the intellect and knowledge of WOMANCE (united in friendship) instilled in us since the WARRIORESS - LILITH the FIRST. SHE who taught us our value; called daemon by men, but remains unconquered. LILITH who fought against all who would slay us.

DRONES. Men who are turned and controlled by BLOODS. Useful for raiding and sentry duties. Limited intellect.

FAMILIARS. Extremely valuable assets. Bled but not turned. Loyal to death to their BLOOD Master.

HALF-BLOOD. Legend/myth. Very rare. Implies one turned but also human. Those who retain connection to humankind.