The Viking Berserker
I don’t know
I don’t know which side I’m on
I don’t know my right from left
I don’t know
I don’t know which side I’m on
I don’t know my right from left
Or my right from wrong
Say I’m a fool
Say I’m nothing
But if I’m a fool for you
Oh, that’s something
Baton Rouge, Louisiana
Eric had taken a liking to his late father’s colonial style house and had generously spent a small fortune on renovations; The sculptures had been made long ago by masters of the craft, they were set on pedestals amid the water of the fountains. The property beheld manicured hedges, it’s architecture, splendid, it’s gardens plush and manicured to perfection.
He didn’t stop there, inside the home he built a grand-hall, there were paintings on the walls that belonged in the Louvre, sculptures of ancient vampire monarchs in very primal positions in each corner. In the middle of the marble floor was a water-fountain, streaming red colored water from a stone woman’s neck.
The grand-hall could comfortably seat over two dozen monarchs. And for the final touch, he purchased an ornate table at Christie’s; the monstrous marble table was smooth it had the lustrous quality of well porcelain plate. The dark cherry wood chairs are smooth, with a lustrous quality of well-waxed wood and cherubs chiseled into the sides.
Still, the house is just that – a house, it is no longer a home. Although the house is fully functional, with the top of the line residence will be used for meetings and events only; no one will ever reside in Godric’s first Louisiana house again.
And now that it is midnight, the meeting of the Monarchy shall begin...
The King stood at the head of the table, his arms folded over his broad chest; observing the Council.
He had called upon this meeting, knowing without a doubt that someone had information about the attack on Fangtaisa, perhaps the invasion of his home too. He needed the entire Council in one room so that he and his brothers could figure out who the traitor or traitors were. There were 24 monarchs and chancellors, minus Salome who would have made 25 and over 300 Sheriffs; the ones before him were the oldest, most powerful- politically and supernaturally; if anything of importance happens, they would either know about it or be the cause of it.
He interrupted the chatter by pretending to clear his throat. Once he had everyone’s attention, he spoke.
“As you are all aware, two nights ago Fangtaisa was destroyed.” Eric began.
“So, your sordid nightclub was bombed, why is this any concern to us?” Violet clipped abruptly, her thick Polish accent was rich with contempt.
“If you’d shut the fuck up, I’d tell you.” Eric hissed sharply.
“Bawahahahahaha...” Franklin guffawed, unable to contain his laughter, he saw that wisecrack coming from a mile away. Violet huffed like a child but remained silent. The master in the craft of investigation had extensive information about all the Chancellor’s and Ms. Violet Muzurski, Queen of Florida was one to be noticed. Born in 1170 A.D, Violet is a very powerful vampire. She exerts control over others through fear and manipulation. She was the second oldest queen and believed to be friends with the fugitive vampire Salome Agrippa. Violet places at number 1 on the list of Chancellor’s that the dark-haired vampire does not trust. Besides his brothers, everyone at the table is possible suspects. Everyone has a price and it has never been known how wealthy Agrippa is. Salome could have paid off several Sheriffs, possibly Kings and Queens.
Eric and Eggs do not feel the same way; They trust Godric’s longtime allies - King of Missouri, Desmarais and the Queen of Georgia, Ruth Mare, they would be of assistance in this predicament.
“We all must remain vigilant. I believe this was not an attack against me, but an attack against all vampires and soon others will be targeted.”
“What evidence do you have to support your claim?” Cynfael asked, his expression marred clear concern.
“I cannot reveal my source, but I can assure you that the information is reliable,” Eric replied, miffed that Cynfael would even ask such a question.
“And why would anyone seek to harm us?” Aleron asked, “We have no enemies, but your Witch, she has many.” He said the word witch as if it were a curse word.
Several nodded in agreement. Others glanced knowingly at one another. The Council was confident in Eric and his brother’s leadership, thus the reason the trio were appointed. However, the King’s wife and her family raised great concern; all had heard the rumors; Aether and her subjects had many enemies, very powerful and formidable enemies. Some felt that the Vampire Kings involvement with the Supreme and The Coven would eventually become problematic. This incident was further proof of that.
“Watch your tongue Aleron,” Eric growled.
“Is it not true.” Aleron, retorted, his tone full of disdain. “Your witch is the reason for the upheaval in our society.”
“That is enough Aleron.” Eric’s sneered threateningly.
“Aleron”, Egg’s interjected, “It would be wise to allow Eric to finish speaking before making accusations.”
Of course, Aleron, King of Texas was not about to back down, if none of the others would speak up and say what they were thinking, he would do so for them.
“Because of that bitch, we are divided; your dusky little magician caused many true-deaths!”
Every word stung only fueling the fire that burned inside of him. Every violated phrase was like gasoline to it, his fists began to clench, and his jaw rooted.
“That human mongrel is the cause of Godric’s true-death.”
When the final word had been added to the blazing inferno inside of him...
The room just went black.
At first, there was silence- his mind became as static, a misty haze upon the horizons of his mind. Fanged, gritted teeth from an effort to remain silent, a hunched form exuded an animosity that was like acid - burning, slicing, potent.
King Eric exploded with anger, with no control, objects levitated and broke. Eric was watching himself, he was moving in slow motion, yet he was still moving too fast for anyone to catch him or flee. People dropped to the floor as the primeval instinct took over.
His eyes set on his target.
The blond watched himself pry open the other vampire’s mouth, dislocating Aleron’s jaw in the process and even though the five-hundred-year-old vampire wailed in excruciating pain, Eric could not hear him; he dug in and ripped out his tongue. Blood sprayed everywhere. Aleron was no longer able to scream, he gurgled and flailed wildly as Eric stuffed his mangled tongue down his blood-filled throat.
“Nous sommes un mon frère, maintenant revenir à nous.”
The familiar voice roused him from the fury-filled trance and he listened to the command.
“Nous sommes un mon frère, mon frère.” Every inflection and every atonement are commanding, it corrects, and commends and most of all it is full of love.
When the fog that clouded his mind subsided, Eric was face to face with his youngest brother.
“Bienvenue, retour, frère.” The handsome, hazel-eyed vampire smiled. Eggs never argued with his fists, but his words packed a powerful punch. Carefully spoken, without drama, his words had an air of finality to them and no matter how hard Eric railed against them, he was compelled to listen. Eric became nostalgic, it was Godric who taught his Maryland born brother French. As his rage subsides they’ll help him heal, calm and come back, he thanked the gods for his brothers.
“I think this meeting is adjourned.” Eggs turned to the five remaining vampires who were still seated; shocked into immobility and silence.
Aleron weakly rose from his chair, his eyes flashed with indigence and anger towards the tall, cerulean eyed vampire before he sped away. The pain from his attack was still there, but the feeling of being humiliated was far worse, it was a pain that would never subside.
“Well, you sure gave Aleron something to suck on.” Franklin chuckled.
“Hannibal Lecter, please contact the cleaning service and leave a voice mail for services at dawn.” Eggs quipped at his brother.
Their banter was crude, and they insulted each other often, but that was the way it was with them, no insults meant you really weren’t part of the crew. You had to have a nick-name too, and, it wouldn’t reflect your good qualities.
“Fine, Marrón Huevos, after which, I’m headed to the Coven to see what our trouble making magi’s are up too.”
“And I shall take Draco Malfoy home.” Eggs chuckled.
They had a weird type of banter, not only were crude insults taken as hard warming compliments but the unthinkable topics they talked would seem weird to outsiders that weren’t inside their precious circle of non-common sense.