An American Vampire in Europe: A Short Story

Notes before reading...

• This story was developed for an exercise for LIS 7560 with Professor Dian Walster: Vampires, Wizards, and Superheroes. It initially began as an introductory exercise for the class; however, it was amended, further developed, and expanded for a later exercise in the same course.
• It is geared for a young adult audience (muted violence and sexual content).  
• To download this story in PDF version: An American Vampire in Europe 

For Williams

1   

 

It’s complicated. Not my relationship status, but rather how I became a vampire. My story starts with my work as the lead researcher and curator at a prestigious American museum on the east coast. America was still recovering from the Depression which meant less people coming through our doors. With money being scarce, acquisitions slowed and I hadn’t experienced an overseas adventure in some time. Don’t get me wrong – I thoroughly enjoyed caring for the museum’s artifacts and documents, but I would much rather be working on a foreign acquisition project tucked away in some far-off corner of the world.

It came as a complete surprise when a military official stepped into my office on a rainy Tuesday afternoon. A caller like this might make others feel faint, but I didn’t have any family serving overseas. What could he possibly want? After several moments, the purpose of his visit was quite clear: an obscure branch of the Army needed a specialist to help identify and rescue artifacts stolen by the Nazis in Germany and other occupied countries. My expertise was being solicited and didn’t I just say that I was keen on an adventure? Needless to say, within the week, my trunks were packed and I was soon abroad the USS Chateau Thierry en route to a stopover in Africa.

The ship was full of interesting characters and I soon found myself a perch in which I could comfortably read while taking in my surroundings. It wasn’t long and I soon noticed an intriguing and incredibly handsome gentleman who looked to be doing the very same thing. He would sit for hours reading and barely move – sometimes it looked as though he never blinked. At dinner, the next evening, the mysterious gentleman interrupted my solitary yet literary meal (I was reading Pride and Prejudice – my comfort read) by sitting directly across from me.

Through his thick German accent, I learned that he, Faramund Braun, immigrated to the States in 1933 shortly after the Deutsche Studentenschaft’s disgusting book burnings in Berlin and the Nazi’s ruling on what they deemed to be entartete Kunst – degenerate art, in our native tongue. At the end of our intense and entrancing conversation, I realized that we had completely lost track of time as the mess deck was empty. I must admit that I was perturbed that he interrupted my meal, but I found his company to be strangely comforting. Upon turning in for the night, in my cramped quarters, I found myself pondering my next visit with Herr Braun.

Docking in Eritrea is the next time I saw Herr Braun – he looked tired with dark circles under his eyes. Rumors on the ship circulated that he wasn’t sleeping and was often found pacing the corridors or scribbling notes into what looked to be a leather-bound journal. When I boarded the ship that would take us to France, I looked for him in hopes that we could make plans for dinner together again. Unfortunately, we did not cross paths until two days out from France and when I did finally set eyes upon him, I couldn’t look away. The sensation was like magnetism. He looked extremely well -- almost as if he stepped out of a painting. For lack of a better description, he closely resembled Mr. Darcy in Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, but far more handsome with an angular face and the bluest of eyes. The odd part was: he couldn’t look away, either.

Never having considered myself vain, when I finally managed to look away, thanks to a welcomed distraction, I quickly checked my reflection via a porthole and found my cheeks burning red. At that very moment I felt uncomfortable in my own skin -- clumsy, awkward, quiet, and too tall. Was he really looking at mousy me or noting the fact that earlier I spilled tea on my cardigan? Being just two inches shy of six feet tall, when most girls were a petite 5'3", meant not getting asked to the school dances. In fact, to be completely honest, dating was downright difficult. By the end of my second year in high school, I gave up on the idea completely and turned to my studies.

Over the years, my friends and family have often teased me about my height. Finding fashionable clothing has always remained a challenge reminiscent of an artifact hunt in the far reaches of Tibet. As a result, I end up making most of my own clothing. Once again, my friends tease me, not about my craftiness, but rather my choice of colors. In opening my wardrobe and surveying the contents, you would find scores of dark blouses, dark cardigans, dark skirts and, of course, dark sensible shoes. My rationale for the selection of dark colors is simple: to not draw any more attention to myself. I prefer being a wallflower.

2

While the distance from Bordeaux, France to Füssen, Germany (located in the Bavarian Alps region) wasn't great, the travel was slow and quite dangerous due to on-going military operations. To pass the time, I tabled my well-read copy of Pride and Prejudice and I found myself switching between Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë and Dracula by Bram Stoker. In reading Dracula, I felt inspired to begin keeping a journal of my travels -- a place to record my observations and something to reflect upon at a later time. On the cusp of the French, Swiss, and German borders, our small convey stopped at a small cafe in Basel, Switzerland for lunch. It was there that I became formerly introduced to my artifact-hunting partner.

"Ms. Pocchiola?"

I looked up from my copy of Dracula to find an Army officer, holding his hat, with Herr Braun at his side. How very curious. Mr. Darcy and his friend Charles Bingley. I couldn't help but smile.

"I am Russell McGregor, assistant to your handler, Herr Adlersflügel. We met a few weeks back in your office."

I stood up and he decorously took my hand in greeting.

"Since Adlersflügel isn't here, I have been given the honor of introductions -- although by the way Herr Braun...Faramund... has spoken it seems that the two of you have already been acquainted. At any rate, the two of you will be working together for the duration of this campaign."

Making direct eye contact with me, Herr Faramund Braun politely took my hand and kissed it. His hand felt like ice.

Accompanying an elite group of soldiers, the next few weeks and months were filled with adventure. Once enemy forces have been eliminated and the all-clear is given, Faramund and I would enter the scene and scour the buildings and compounds for stolen artifacts while the soldiers secured enemy intelligence in hopes of ending the war. Not only did we recover paintings of breath-taking beauty, jewel-encrusted swords, leather-bound books with gold pages, and other antiquities that belong in dreams, but we were ensconced by extraordinary surroundings. The locations that the Nazis took up for headquarters were not homes belonging to mere peasants, but elaborate estates featuring domed ceilings, sweeping staircases, ponds with streaming fountains, and imported black swans floating dreamily in the water. It was all brilliant and very exciting.

In celebrating success with the troops and the recovery of a long sought-after artifact, Faramund and I toured the newly captured grounds – a prominent home of a high-ranking Nazi officer. In actuality, the home was likely never his, but rather that of a wealthy Jewish family that sought refuge abroad earlier in the war. I like to consider that scenario to be the circumstance surrounding the abandonment of this prime piece of real estate rather than the alternative: being transported to a concentration camp. I hope the family escaped intact and unharmed. Shortly before the raid, for whatever the reason, the power to the estate was cut rendering the long and echoing hallways dark thus making our work and subsequent tour more than difficult. Perhaps the darkness or maybe too much schnapps (Germans love their schnapps) caused my life to abruptly change when I fell down a dark stairway.

I must admit, my memory of the event is quite fuzzy, but I recall waking to a sense of peace with Faramund at my bedside looking relieved. The sense of peace soon left when I was overwhelmed by my senses. It was as though life and the menagerie of senses came roaring and trampling back to me. Behind me, I heard the sound of small scurrying footsteps. When I turned to find the source of the noise, I was reminded that I was still in bed and all that remained behind me was the intricately carved headboard and the wall. Even though the window was closed, I could smell the heavy and moist scent of freshly turned earth in the garden. In fact, I could almost taste it -- how peculiar yet strangely pleasant. Surveying the grounds from the exquisite ten-foot, glass paneled French doors that led to the balcony in the upstairs bedroom, I could see the white star-like petals of das Edelweiß dancing in the Bavarian breeze without the aid of my glasses.

At first, I thought that I had died and must be in heaven because of my keen senses and my overall lack of pain -- after all, I did take quite a tumble. My throat felt curiously raw and hoarse like I had been screaming or perhaps I was just very thirsty from being unconscious. Now aware of what I might look like -- missing teeth, a blackened eye, bruises and contusions -- I walked across the room to the full-length mirror and to my surprise I found only two small puncture wounds on my neck. A confused look must have crossed my face because Faramund was instantly at my side. It was then that I heard the shuffling of feet leaving the room and the echo of a metal click as the latch caught in the heavy carved wood door; it was as if it had closed on a chapter in my life.

3

Faramund, without even batting an eyelash, proceeded to explain the details surrounding my accident and as a result the mystery of my current state began to become more focused. Apparently, when I fell down the staircase I hit my head quite hard. With wounds to the head, there is always much blood and as a result our comrades feared the worst and thought me dead. One of the medics attempted to find a pulse, but to no avail. Fortunately, Faramund was present at the scene and was able to find a weak pulse and carried me to an empty bedroom. An Army nurse was summoned for my care and managed to stabilize me, but was called away after several hours to care for a severely wounded soldier returning from another raid.

It was then that Faramund laid something on me that felt like a ton of bricks to my curiously buoyant body: I actually died. Shortly after the nurse left, I took a turn for the worse and Faramund humbly admitted to saving me. When I inquired as to how he did it, silence settled upon the room like a heavy fog. We were watching each other for the next move. After a long pause, Faramund turned away from me and walked to the window with his hands in the pockets of his trousers.

After several more minutes of silence, he must have mustered enough courage from the view of the Alps in the glowing dusk because he returned to my side and took both of my hands in his. His blue eyes searched my face and met my green eyes, but this time I did not feel my cheeks begin to warm. How incredibly strange. What I immediately noticed was that his pupils were different from any that I have ever seen before. Why didn't I ever notice? After all, this wasn't the first the first time I have so openly studied his face before. Once again, he must have noticed my alarm because he began to speak...

"I don't know how to begin..."

"Faramund, my dear friend, please do not worry. I am just happy to be alive and in one piece."

The burning in my throat intensified and I looked for the pitcher of water that was situated on the small nightstand next to the bed.

"It won't help. You've been changed."

I certainly noticed changes, my sharpened senses and lack of pain, but I attributed that to my recovery. A second chance. A rebirth.

"Julianne, you died."

As I poured water into the goblet, I replied, "Yes, I am aware of that fact." Faramund was watching me closely. I took a big gulp of water in hopes of quenching the ever-growing fire in my throat, but found that it had no effect.

"I am a vampire and I didn't save your life. I took it."

In my shock, the crystal goblet in my hand began to falter and it soon began to fall to the floor. Without even a second's delay, Faramund reached down and caught the goblet before it had a chance to shatter on the polished and ornate parquet floor. If he was a vampire, then the puncture wounds on my neck could only be... He saved me, yes, but he didn't save my life. What about my family back home in the States? I had so many questions and the room felt as though all of the sound in the world had returned at full volume. The cacophonous noise roared in my ears and I felt completely overwhelmed. Not to mention, that the aggravating burning in my throat was becoming almost unbearable. For the first time in my life, I collapsed on the bed and cried.

4

Unlike much vampire lore, mostly myths and legends, Faramund and I were not limited to the darkness. We could walk side by side with any mortal without raising suspicion other than the fact that we must make ourselves blink. Rather than mingle with mortals, we prefer the company of each other. Now that sleep was no longer necessary, I took advantage of this newfound freedom and took to the mountains. The Bavarian Alps are full of spectacular sights such as moss-covered boulders the size of a house, majestic forests full of gigantic fir trees, and pristine alpine lakes that sparkle like blue sapphires. The region was also home to a plethora of animals. Surprisingly, I was more interested in the wildlife.

I soon learned that the burning sensation in my throat was due to hunger or rather thirst. To say that I was squeamish of blood wouldn't be accurate; however, the idea of maiming and possibly killing humans for their blood thoroughly repulsed me. Fortunately, Faramund deemed himself a “vegetarian” and would feed upon wildlife consisting primarily of deer, wolves, and the occasional bear which made the transformation process for me much easier considering our current location. Since I was a neophyte and learning how to become a Jäger, hunter in our native tongue, I focused on smaller animals such as rabbits, fox, otters, and wolves.

As the weeks passed and I began slowly adapting to the changes, I commenced learning everything that I could about my new supernatural status. As I already mentioned, the stories are just that...stories. For the sake of appearances, Faramund and I would still make our way to the dining room three times a day, but rather than fill ourselves with food for mortals, like our comrades, we picked and grazed not eating much. Garlic, an ingredient common to my favorite foods as a mortal, has no effect on our kind. Silver, crucifixes, and coffins are also the elements of myths; however, a wooden stake through the heart could do the trick. Based on my earliest moments as a supernatural, sharpened senses and quick reflexes, at least one truth was discovered: we were designed to hunt.

The weather in the region was frigidly cold which, personally, didn't faze Faramund and I like it did the soldiers, but rather it created a challenge for our hunting. Our prey was not as plentiful as it was before the weather changed, but we still managed to feed on errant deer. One afternoon while scavenging a great distance away from our current compound, I heard the sound of soldiers and upon further investigation it was confirmed: a Skijäger-Division. From our position, without saying a word to each other, we covertly observed the white-clad Nazi infantry unit performing drills and tactical movements on skis. After several moments, I turned my attention to Faramund. New scents were coming from him, scents in which I have never before experienced -- those of rage and disgust.

When Faramund turned to meet my eyes, his face looked grim and his eyes had a hard determined set about them. Inaudible to the mortal ear, he demanded that I stay put and I watched as he effortlessly made his way into the thick cover bordering the snow-covered slope. When I attempted to follow Faramund, I found a curiously strange tingling sensation in my limbs almost as if they were falling asleep. I could not move. Even more curious, when I opted for a better vantage point rather than to follow Faramund, I found the sensation had vanished. In my new perch, I witnessed something in which will never leave me...

5

Faramund, in a fit of pure rage, began attacking the Nazis. While those humans were certainly below scum of the world, killing humans was against our philosophy as I had been learning over the past few weeks. Panic instilled in my body. If adrenaline was still possible, it would have been coursing through my veins. The sensation was back; as a result, I was unable to stop him. In less than 10 minutes, every man in the Skijäger-Division was laying dead in the crimson-stained alpine snow.

"Julianne, you may join me now," Faramund called. Fear and doubt plagued my mind. While Faramund was certainly full of surprises as of late, I began to ponder if he truly is who he claimed to be. Reluctantly, I made my way down to him and retched at the carnage surrounding him. The scene was horrific and intensified by my newfound senses.

Busying himself, Faramund bent over and began washing his bloodied hands in the snow. When his hands were spotless, he used fresh snow to clean the blood from his lips and chin. The sight was appalling and I found myself reeling. Who was this man that I came to know?

"We need to talk," he said.

"Obviously, but I prefer elsewhere."

"No, here." Faramund said resolutely.

I was growing more and more uncomfortable -- fearful that we would be discovered. Faramund causally traipsed the scene and using the toe of his boot, he seemed to examine the faces of the fallen Skijäger-Division.

"I can't help but keep a list of those I have killed. I might not know their names, but I remember their faces. Even after becoming a vampire, human death disturbs me."

Faramund kicked a Maschinenpistole-40 away from a feeble soldier, lying in a pool of his own blood. It was miraculous that he survived the attack. Faramund bent down and twisted the man's neck to an unnatural angle. The soldier ceased all further movement. I continued my silence -- waiting for an explanation to Faramund's violence.

"I must tell you... Thus far, I've purposely been quite mysterious about my background. I was afraid to share too much. I knew you were capable of connecting the dots. Julianne, I wasn't recruited for this mission due to expertise, like you, but rather for a different set of skills..."

He must have smelled the disgust and contempt permeating from my body because he changed his course.

"How much do you know about this war?! How much?! Or are you only focused on rescuing artifacts?! These...vile... animals..."

Faramund's voice was a hard staccato, colder than our surroundings, and traces of venom escaped from his mouth making the snow sizzle and steam where it landed.

"...have pillaged...tortured...disfigured...raped...and murdered...innocent human beings! I might have left Deutschland prior to the 'war'; however, the true war began when that Drecksau, Hitler came to power. Over 100 years before this hell even began, a German poet by the name of Heinrich Heine stated, 'Wo sie Bücher zu verbrennen, werden sie auch verbrennen die Menschen.' It translates to: 'Where they burn books, they will also burn people.' Julianne, they are burning people, you idiot girl!"

I felt his eyes on me, searching my face, demanding a response, but for the first time I couldn't meet his eyes. I was ashamed. Ashamed that I had kept my nose in the books and as a result was naive and oblivious ...ashamed that Faramund saw this side of me. Several minutes of silence passed between us.

Much quieter and his voice dripping with hurt,

"My parents are dead and gone. After I was changed, I stayed away. Out of love. Because of the blood found, my wife thought I was murdered. I didn't want to scare them or put them in harm's way. It was easier to just stay away. Not all vampires follow our philosophy and I didn't want to attract unnecessary attention. I watched my family from a safe distance...watched my wife marry my best friend...watched my children grow old and die. I cannot even begin to tell you how lonely this life is...

Much like you, I filled the void with books and my studies; however, unlike you, sleep was no longer a requirement. I became fluent in English, immigrated to the States, and felt compelled for something bigger than merely existing. Without further thought, I applied to The Citadel in Charleston, South Carolina.

Keeping my supernatural status a secret was a challenge, but even more challenging was trying not to outperform the humans and draw attention. For the first time in my life, I failed. One night while pretending to cool down from a run, my mentor approached me some distance away from my quarters. He looked and smelled different. Something was wrong. Walther Adlersflügel said, 'Braun, I know what you are.' A very long story made short: he, too, was a vampire and recruited me..."

In less than 30 minutes, I witnessed Faramund murder an entire Skijäger-Division and just found out that my ever-absent handler, Adlersflügel, is a vampire -- not to mention that my "partner" has been carrying out covert operations right under my nose. I simply had enough. As I turned to leave, Faramund grabbed my arm.

"We aren't finished yet."

"We are finished here, Faramund. I cannot stand your casualness with death. I am returning."

As immature as it might be, I hope that stung. When I caught his scent, I knew I went too far.

6

Upon our return, we found the manor to be in a somewhat organized state of chaos. Gear was being loaded onto trucks and we found it difficult to break through the lines of soldiers hurrying to carry out their assigned duties. After several minutes of Faramund and I pretending to be jostled, a harried-looking soldier approached us and delivered a message: we were to join Herr Walther Adlersflügel in his office immediately. Pressing through the troops, we made our way into what could only be the temporary office of Herr Adlersflügel. A stifling room fashioned of dark wainscoting and solid wood bookshelves lined with substantial amounts of hand-stamped and leather-bound volumes. My newfound eyesight noticed some of the works exhibited characteristics of red rot—a breakdown of the leather—followed by my sharp sense of smell confirming the suspicion. The smell of decay was in the air.

"Ahhh... You must be Fräulein Pocchiolo." Surprisingly, Herr Adlersflügel's voice still carried a German accent.

"Your Familie hails from Vadena? In my native tongue, we refer to it as Pfatten." I nodded.

"It is wunderbar to meet another Pocchiolo. I once courted a beautiful woman by the name of Ginerva. Any relation to you?"

"Sir, yes. She was my great-grandmother. If you do not mind me asking, when did you meet her?"

"I first set eyes upon Ginerva when she was leaving Mass with her family, but I digress. We have much more pressing matters to attend. Julianne, I am honored to be acquainted at last. Faramund has said much about you. Will you please have a seat?"

I knew to make no mistake about it -- that was not a question, but rather a demand. I nodded my head and took a seat next to Faramund.

"Faramund, I trust that you have brought Fräulein Pocchiolo up to speed?"

"Sir, she is aware of me being recruited."

"How surprising," Herr Adlersflügel drawled. "I thought the moment you became a Maker, you would spill all of your secrets."

I could smell irritability undulating from Faramund. Herr Adlersflügel picked up a tarnished hand bell and gave it a quick ring. In walked a servant pushing a cart with tea and scones. With the flick of his fingers, as if he was batting a fly, Walther dismissed the servant with an air of superiority.

Motioning to the cart, Adlersflügel said unemotionally,

“For the sake of appearances." Then through gleaming teeth he added, “However, I must admit that I do enjoy the English and their customs.”

Faramund had sympathetically explained his vegetarian philosophy which had helped me ease into my new life. He also explained that not all vampires possess the strength or will to follow suit. I noted that this man was not one to be trifled with.

After the slightest of pauses he continued,

"As the two of you can see, duty calls. Death squads, more formally known as Einsatzgruppen der Sicherheitspolizei und des SD, have been wreaking havoc in the east. Soviet territory."

 With pause, but in a heavy and forceful tone, he continued,

"Later this morning, we move out. You're dismissed."

Not wanting to stay a moment longer in this man's presence, I gathered my superfluous winter garments and started to leave the room until he spoke again.

Looking at Faramund, he said,

"The girl needs to know...and one more thing: fantastisch job with the Skijäger-Division."

7

Left alone for the first time in hours, I began packing away what meager belongings and personal effects I brought with me; however, not without mulling over the conversation with Herr Adlersflügel. From Adlersflügel's closing remarks, it seemed that Faramund was recruited for the solitary purpose of hunting and assassinating Nazis. A vampire assassin. I struggled with wrapping my mind around Faramund, my Mr. Darcy, murdering anyone -- yet on the other hand, the incident with the Skijäger-Division was fresh and still glistening in my mind.

A quick knock on my door preceded Faramund's head poking in room. As if nothing had happened between the two of us, he inquired if I was packed and ready. Silently nodding my head, he reached for my bags much to my chagrin.

"I might be a lady, but as vampire, I can certainly handle carrying my own bags. Thank you!"

"Listen, Julianne. You have every right to be upset with me and even not trust me, but know this: we must maintain appearances."

Without delay, he held the door open for me and proceeded to follow me downstairs.

Unfortunately, Herr Adlersflügel arranged a private vehicle for Faramund and I. Knowing I would be stuck with him for immeasurable hours; I pulled my copy of Pride and Prejudice from one of my bags. As I scanned the pages and pretended to not hear him, Faramund continued the conversation in which I had abruptly ended earlier in the day. My hunch was confirmed. He was, indeed, hired as an assassin to take out Nazis. I was recruited as his cover. Now that I was a vampire, which according to Faramund was never planned, I was expected to partake in Herr Adlersflügel's special covert missions. The idea sickened me and I am certain that Faramund picked up my scent. Because it was winter and the nature of business had everything to do with the war at hand, conditions were dangerous which made travel much slower. Thankfully, Faramund stopped his harangue and we passed the rest of the trip, just shy of two weeks, to Leningrad (St. Petersburg) from Füssen, Bavaria in relative peace and quiet.

Thanks to the well-frozen Lake Ladoga, the Soviets had been able to successfully evacuate the contents of many museums and treasuries via an ice road across the lake referred to as the Road of Life. Not only were they able to rescue some of their cultural heritage via the Road of Life, but it also served as an artery for desperately needed food and supplies for the region. The citizens of Leningrad were starving including the Soviet soldiers. In fact, it wasn't unusual to see looting shortly after rations were distributed to the civilians. Since Faramund and I were eating merely for appearances, I pocketed most of what I could and discretely gave it to the local woman who was enlisted to care for our quarters.

After settling in, Faramund and I were summoned by Herr Adlersflügel for a briefing. Over the course of the past two weeks, the intelligence gathered has indicated the possibility of a large cache of artifacts being stored in a very rural area northeast of Leningrad -- across Lake Ladoga. While obvious that we were being activated for another artifact recovery mission, I knew that Faramund would be engaging in multiple assassinations. Even if it was covert, I was thankful that Herr Adlersflügel made no mention of the additional mission. I couldn't bear to hear any gruesome details.

Later that same night under the cover of darkness, Faramund and I began the dangerous trek which required crossing enemy lines multiple times. Because of our supernatural status, we were able to quickly travel cross-country via the woods virtually undetected which saved much time; however, our travel was neither light nor easy. Corpses of men, women, and even children lay partially covered in snow with many of them frozen like statues. By their various positions, it was apparent that these innocent people had been lined up and shot in the back. It was absolutely heart wrenching.

I couldn't help but recall Faramund, his frustrations with me, and my feeling of shame. Between the long hours I logged for the museum which entailed acquisitioning artifacts, cataloging, and then carefully preserving them -- coupled with pure and plain avoidance -- I was oblivious to the atrocities of this war. Faramund and I weren't serving on the frontlines of the war effort. To date, beyond seeing the effects of war such as malnutrition and looting, I had not seen dead civilians. Anger soon began to simmer inside of me.

8

It wasn't long after we began finding corpses in the woods, did we begin hearing soldiers and the sound of the occasional car on a dirt road. Still under the cover of trees and darkness, as we got closer to the road we located the site of our objective: a magnificent mansion of a house was set off some distance off the road. At the end of the driveway, an intricate wrought-iron gate stood guarded by several Nazi soldiers. For whatever reason, perhaps caught up in the excitement of rescuing more artifacts, I now came to the abrupt realization that Herr Adlersflügel sent only the two of us. Cold and chilling thoughts came crashing into my mind like an avalanche. How are we going to pull off this mission? Am I expected to kill? I knew Faramund could smell my fear and anxiety.

"Julianne, we can do this; however, we certainly are not going to waltz in the front door and ask for accommodations. Follow me."

I felt compelled to follow him. Faramund, my Maker was far more experienced than I, and for the second time in my life as a vampire, he used the Maker-progeny bond to command me. I had no choice, other than guaranteed extreme pain, but to follow him. Faramund led us away from the headquarters via the woods and up a steep hill. From our location, situated behind the immense mansion, we had the perfect vantage point which afforded us a view of what looked to be the main parlor where Nazi soldiers were being entertained. Once again, I grew anxious; however, this time the anger that began simmering earlier now turned to a boil. There is no mistaking the fact that those officers whom look to be having a jovial time around a warm stone fireplace ordered the killing of those innocent families who now lay frozen in the woods. The dissonance was utterly distressing.

"Einsatzgruppen," remarked Faramund. "Some of the most brutal and cold men under the Third Reich. I don't expect you to immediately follow me. I can come for you when I have secured the grounds."

"Faramund, you can't handle taking them down alone."

"You would be surprised. In comparison to the Skijäger-Division, there is much less of them; however, if you are offering to help, sully your face and clothing. Present yourself to the guards at the front gate. It will create a distraction and you'll gain access to the mansion. Because you are a vampire, they won't be able to hurt you. Besides, I don't think they would want to cause you any harm. At least not immediately."

I watched as he effortlessly descended the bluff and approached the mansion. If I was going to assist him, I knew I needed to act. Through the trees I ran, making my way back towards the wrought-iron gate where two Nazis stood guard. I managed to find a jagged rock in which I used to make a small incision on my hand and rip my trousers. It wasn't long and I must have looked like I had spent days lost in the woods -- blood and dirt soiled my face and parka. I wasn't going to be any more ready than I was now.

Knowing only a miniscule amount of German, mostly the names of units, I could not understand what the soldiers were yelling; however, common sense dictated that I should halt and put my hands in the air. Thankfully my stress was barely contained because I was able to burst into tears without much effort. Surprisingly, they handled me gently and both idiots escorted me, via the black Mercedes-Benz that had been parked by the gate, up to the mansion thus leaving the gate unguarded. In hindsight, the probability of enemy combatants approaching this secluded fort was slim. After all, the nearby town was rendered extinct between their brutality and sending the Jews to concentration camps. This mansion, like the estate in Füssen in which we temporarily resided, was likely confiscated from a Jewish family.

Rage bubbled up inside of me and I made my first bold move as a vampire by sinking my fangs into the passenger's neck. His scream was abruptly cut off as I drained the last bit of blood from his body. The driver of the car, utterly shocked, jumped from the moving vehicle causing it to veer of course and strike a tree. Out of the vehicle and on the ground before the remaining guard could pull himself up, I was by his side and had his blood drained before he could begin to scream for help. I couldn't help but feel a sense of justice seeping into my body. An insatiable burning I knew only to be thirst made my throat feel ragged and raw. I wanted more.

9

Inside the mansion, Faramund had his work cut out for him. After eliminating the soldiers gallivanting in the parlor by the fire, he found a dozen more feasting in the dining room where I joined him via the cellar. The table was laden with hearty food and the soldier's faces were flushed with drink. Surprised to see fresh blood on my chin, Faramund smiled at me and said,

"Julianne, how nice of you to join the party. Let the feast begin!" 

 The sound of shattering china muffled the screams as we quickly finished off the German dinner party with pure brute force. Faramund silently motioned for me to follow him upstairs.

Upon reaching the upstairs, we were presented with a "U" shaped hallway that curved around the winding staircase. A large crystal chandelier lit the hallway with wall scones strategically placed between the doors to the various bedrooms. Because of our strength, we chose to divide and conquer. When I tried the knob to the first room, I found it to be locked. Moving on down the hallway, I could smell the sweet-scent of alcohol and sour breath coming from the next room. On the grand four-poster bed a soldier laid, passed out from too much schnapps, with a large ring of skeleton keys resting on the nightstand. I grabbed the keys and locked the slumbering soldier in his room. The next room was found to be empty except for several uniforms hanging in the closet and what looked to be silver necklace on the floor.

Without much thought, I bent down to retrieve the delicate looking necklace. Upon closer inspection, I recognized the Star of David and realized that it had been forcefully torn from someone's neck. The silver reeked of pure terror and I immediately made the connection with the first bedroom and set of skeleton keys in my pocket. Running back down the hallway, I kicked in the door to the first bedroom. As I was knocked to my knees, shrieks of alarm filled the room. Spinning around, I found my assailant to be a young woman holding a poster from the bed. Four other women cowered in the corner attempting to stifle their sobs. At this precise moment, in strode Faramund his clothes tattered and torn but unhurt nonetheless.

In what I took to be Russian, whatever Faramund said to the women it had an immediate calming effect. Instead of cowering, they immediately began pulling linen and blankets from the bed. The youngest of the group, ran to the other bedrooms and retrieved more bedding.

Faramund looked to me and said, 

"In the shed, out back, there is a supply truck. The keys are in it. Bring it around front and we'll meet you there."

In fifteen minutes time, Faramund led the five women out the massive oak front doors to the military truck. Each woman, in addition to wearing a Nazi wool coat, was wrapped in bedding and carrying an artifact of some kind. Paintings, several vases, and a circlet were securely packed into the shipping crate left in the back of the truck. Faramund and I helped the women into the truck and wrapped the extra blankets around them. Before departing, I ran back into the house and gathered as much food and water as I could manage -- which being a vampire was a great deal. In their original terror and later excitement at being liberated from their inhumane captors, the women hadn't realized their hunger. When they saw the food in my arms, their eyes filled with tears.

Instead of joining me in the cab, Faramund requested that I drive the truck and meet him at the gate. As I pulled away, I watched him double-back into the mansion at an alarming rate of speed. Shortly after I reached the end of the driveway, I noticed smoke rising from behind us and smiled as I realized that Faramund had set fire to the Einsatzgruppen's house of horrors. While it was sad to see such a beautiful home destroyed, we knew that it was for the best. It was just a matter of time before more Nazis headed this way and turned it into a command post. An acrid smelling Faramund, sporting a Nazi officer's uniform, opened the door and climbed abroad.

10

The drive back to Leningrad was much more eventful than the brief romp Faramund and I had previously taken in the woods. Because we were traveling by road, rather than by our own volition, progress was slowed and the various checkpoints that we encountered certainly didn't help matters. Faramund and I switched places with him driving the truck. As we approached each checkpoint along the bleak countryside, I slipped in the back with the Russian women. While Faramund was answering the various questions posed by the soldiers, I gracefully extricated myself from under the tarp and personally greeted the soldiers. With our procedure in place, we made up for time lost due to the condition of the roads and the slow-moving truck. We offered to take the women where ever they wished once returning to Leningrad; however, according to Faramund, they were content to stay in the city amongst people rather than return to the isolated countryside.

Upon returning to our compound and finding rooms for the women, I was keen on a shower, hot or cold -- temperature didn't matter anymore; I wanted to wash away the blood and filth accumulated from our mission. Unfortunately, Adlersflügel was notified upon our return and we were summoned to his office. Like his previous office, the room was rich with dark wood and housed a large collection of antique books. A tray bearing hot coffee and rolls waited on a nearby table. For appearances, yes; however, the idea of partaking in a normal, human activity filled me with comfort and I poured myself a cup of coffee before Adlersflügel began the debriefing.

"Judging by your appearance, Fraülein Pocchiolo, it looks as though you were of great assistance to our friend Faramund."

"Yes, sir," I replied.

"Good. I am glad that you are embracing your new life. Big things are coming your way, Agent Pocchiolo. All in good time. For now, I need the two of you survey the contents the Hermitage. You're dismissed."

Being educated, well-read, and certainly well-traveled, I never considered myself as naive -- yet in some aspects, I came to realize that I truly am. I learned there is more to life than books, academia, and artifacts. For starters, vampires do exist. Evil in the form of mortal humans have walked this earth time and time again -- in the wise words of a former colleague, "mankind needs to be knowledgeable about history in order to not repeat it." And most importantly, learning doesn't always come from books, but rather by opening your eyes and heart.

If you know anything about history, you likely know the outcome of the war. Due to covert missions carried out by Faramund and I, the Allied forces experienced a significant drop in causalities and only a select group knew how or why. At the end of the Second World War, that small elite group developed into something much bigger and became the foundation of the Central Intelligence Agency. And I am known as Agent Julianne Braun.