Surrender

Third perspective.

In the corner of the elegant great chamber, embroidered in crimson and gold, stood a magnificent vintage Appalachian oak grandfather clock. The minute hand struck five o'clock. At this time of day, in the late spring, the sun should have been at its highest position in the sky, but, for the creatures of this dreadful underworld, there was nothing, nothing but a deep, dank darkness that drained its inhabitants of hope and energy.

Inside the great chamber gentlemen and beasts alike drifted in and out, some with attire centuries old. A dozen or so select gentlemen, and a few beasts, spent some moments chatting about politics and issues with the lord of the palace before they all returned to the entrance hall, nearly all carrying a wine glass filled with warm blood. There was a lofty fountain in the center of the room cast in bronze, engraved with intricate floral carvings, brimming with the sweet, pristine blood of virgin women. The fountain pumped continuously; It was completely responsible for keeping the sanguine pool fresh and alive. Human handmaids, bare-skinned, trickling with ruby-red blood, catered to every lost gentleman and beast within the castle.

Within the entrance hall there was the most vile, repulsive feast of humans with their flesh and fluids and bones strewn all over the red oak vinyl while daring psychotic vampires danced with the corpses of their last meal. Mutilated remains dangled on golden chains that hung from brilliant quartz chandeliers suspended above the chaos as the gravity of Beethoven's 5th Symphony charmed the guests of the palace.

Aaron is the second oldest among the nine Hart brothers. Aaron is not someone that anyone sane would want to meet. Unlike his brothers, Aaron grew up with a sickening problem: He loved to tear living things apart. He is as wild as a timberwolf mad with rabies and more terrifying than a nine foot tall werewolf, yet he was eloquent, and he was completely obedient to his eldest brother, Jaeger. He was endowed with a remarkable, unearthly sense of smell second only to his sense of hearing. He also had innate investigational abilities. Aaron's fangs were three inches long and stuck out over his lower lip, and he used his needlepoint fangs to tear the flesh from his victims' bones like pulled pork. His eyes were gray and blind, his long black hair ragged and mangled and greasy. The awful brute was huge, too--bigger than all his brothers, and more menacing than all his brothers. He couldn't control his rage, though, so Jaeger resorted to controlling one-half of Aaron, his feral side.

That moment Aaron stormed the entrance of the palace, dragging a row of men and women in chains to the center of the entrance hall, all his fresh captives clawing for freedom and shouting for nothing less than mercy.

The monster whistled above the melody to gain the attention of the whole mass of undead heathens, announcing, "A lone Wolfeater, a fledgling, was passing through Pine Ridge, South Dakota, when he was shot dead for no reason at all by the county sheriff. There was no justice for the Wolfeater. The sheriff was not reprimanded for his crime against the Vampyr Empire. The mayor and the city council and all of the officers involved have been apprehended, chained and bound, thanks to my quick work. I brought them to the Onyx Palac, so they can pay for their crimes."

Aaron picked the Oglala Lakota County Sheriff up by his neck, gazing emotionless into his eyes.

"The sheriff's name is Howard Klein. Who all says Howard Klein is guilty and worthy of a proper death? All in favor, say aye."

The congregation of vampires in mesmerized unison all simultaneously responded, shouting "Aye!"

Aaron exchanged a sorrowful glance with the mayor, and frowned, but his expression was only a guise. He brushed his long, thick strands of hair from out of his eyes, and grinned like a hyena. "Majority rules."

Howard pleaded for his life, but his plea was ignored. Aaron tore into him like a lion tears into his prey. Aaron ate Howard's heart with bliss and satisfaction. Warm blood streaked down Aaron's lips, cheeks, and neck.

The congregation of vampires descended upon the humans like a school of piranhas as the royal butler bolted the entrance to the Onyx Palace.

Upstairs, the lord chuckles as he sips his bloody mary.

"Bibere, amicus, et manere in perpetuum," Jaeger told the poor, bewitched goblin that sought counsel in the great chamber kneeling before him.

"Count Jaeger, I am sorry. What language are you speaking?" asked the perplexed, hideously disfigured goblin with beady sanguine eyes and rough, jagged, yellow teeth. Hundreds of years of scars were evident upon the goblin's face, his skin like smoky black leather. His robes were tattered and ragged and dotted with stains, his steel-plated iron boots half-rusted, worn and dented. The three foot tall goblin cocked his head like a curious squirrel, expecting an answer.

"If you don't know latin, maybe you should learn. Away from me!" Jaeger kicked the goblin with his heavy, pointed intricate stainless steel boots. "Petty beast!"

The goblin hobbled away, grunting with each step.

Jaeger breathed heavily, then coughed up a storm. For a moment, it seemed the Count was extremely ill. Afterwards, he laid his head softly against the gold-laden and red velvet throne. He shut his eyes from his incapacity to concentrate.

"Drink all you want, my friends. Drink all you want..." Jaeger's expression was grave, devoid of purpose. He raked back his neatly combed shoulder length snow-white hair. He tried to display confidence and assurance to his guests, but, inside, Jaeger was in conflict with a terrible, inconceivable enemy.