"Kill me right now, what are you waiting for?" the police captain screeched begging for his life. Damon had stabbed him in the right flank but refused to grant him a quick death. The burning pain in the man’s wound made him feel dizzy. At the same time, the other police officers lay unconscious beside him, victims of Damon's attack.
"I won't give you that pleasure," Damon groaned.
"Why do you want me alive?"
"For no reason in particular. I have my own set of ethics, and killing is not one of them."
"Who are you? You demon!" the policeman gasped, his face contorted with both pain and fear.
"Demon? Well, thank you for the compliment. It's fitting, given my name," Damon grinned.
"Who are you?" the policeman persisted, his words growing weaker as he struggled to crawl, his strength waning.
"I hail from a lineage in northern Prussia, a former member of the vanished Doppelsauger clan. As for my real name, I have used many aliases. You see, my family is descended from the Blood Countess."
"The Blood Countess? Who’s that?" the policeman spat blood.
"Gabriella Erzsébet Báthory Nádasdy of Ecsed, known as the first serial killer in history."
The wounded policeman's eyes widened in pain and intrigue. He couldn't resist asking, "What do you mean?"
"She is infamous for her numerous crimes, all tied to her obsession with beauty, which earned her that nickname."
"I don't know any woman by that name," the policeman interrupted, his hand instinctively reaching to cover his wound, seeking to alleviate the pain.
"She was born in Transylvania. Legend has it that Elizabeth Báthory was a sadistic killer who believed that bathing in the blood of her servants and pupils would preserve her youth and beauty. Allow me to share a story," Damon cleared his throat.
"According to a rival Count, when his army arrived at her castle in 1610, they found no resistance. Instead, they witnessed a horrifying sight in the courtyard—a female servant writhing in agony, her hip shattered. Yet, what caught their attention even more was the discovery of a dying girl and another pierced but still alive, in the grand hall. In the dungeon, they found a dozen more girls, some still breathing but with grievous wounds inflicted upon them in recent weeks. Beneath the castle, they unearthed the bodies of over fifty girls. The entire castle was tainted with dark stains and the stench of decay, as barrels filled with ash and sawdust were used to collect the spilled blood."
"What in the world are you telling me?" the policeman exclaimed, his voice a mix of confusion and horror.
"Do not interrupt me... the best part is yet to come," Damon grinned.
"It all began in 1604, shortly after the death of her husband. She believed she had discovered the key to eternal youth, nobody knows exactly how she reached that conclusion. But consumed by fascination, the countess concluded using the blood of virgins as a miraculous elixir. Her first victim was a servant she coerced with her acolytes, she stripped the girl’s clothes, then sliced her neck and collected her blood in a bowl. Erzsébet bathed herself in the blood, even drinking it in an attempt to rejuvenate herself."
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"This is madness," the policeman coughed.
"These are the findings I have gathered over the years, delving into the origins of my family. Thanks to Erzsébet, or rather the son she bore with one of her servants, several vampire clans were born in Romania. Their practices spread throughout Europe, perpetuating her curse upon mankind," Damon explained, his voice carrying a weight of solemnity.
"Curse?" the officer whispered.
"Yes! She brought forth the so-called vampires, malevolent beings marked by the curse of Cain. Her actions were a disgrace to all living things.”
"If you despise your kin, why don't you end your suffering and take your own life?" the policeman challenged, his voice strained.
"For many years, I have traveled the world, seeking to eradicate a race I am part of... but I am not a true vampire," Damon confessed, kneeling to meet the dying officer's gaze. "There are only three of those parasites remaining in the world, and I have been pursuing them for the past two hundred and fifty years. I can sense them slipping through my grasp, eluding my hunt."
The policeman's eyes widened, as he struggled to comprehend the magnitude of Damon's mission. Damon went on his feet, his hand against his face, frowning. "I will eliminate them all."
"You're insane. Stay away from me!" The policeman gasped for air.
"Listen! I will grant you a favor," Damon said, raising his left hand. With a swift motion, he grabbed his knife from the officer's torso and slashed his left wrist.
"I shall allow you to drink my blood. In doing so, you will become an Impure, forever bound to serve me.".
"No!" the policeman tried to scream, but his breath faded away. "Kill me if you wish, but leave me be."
"Do not fret. I will only give you one command, and then you may do as you please until you fulfill it," Damon assured him. "So, Fernando... Uribe, right?” Damon asked.
“How do you know my name?”
“Did you really think I would be choosing any random person for this important task?” Damon giggled. “I know many things about you. Things you aren’t even aware of.”
A drop of blood fell onto the policeman's lips who started choking, convulsing in agony. His once-dark brown eyes shifted in hue, oscillating between shades of black and white until settling on a haunting gray. His tanned skin paled as much as an undead, while his black hair turned a lifeless grayish color.
"This shall be my first and only command," Damon coughed.
"When you acclimate to the new existence, I have bestowed upon you, and after I accomplish my mission. Your ultimate task will be to find and terminate me, putting an end to this wretched path that has plagued our world—an existence that never deserved to be born," Damon explained, his gaze fixed upon Fernando's eyes.
“What about me? I will stay like this forever?”
“You will turn back to normal once I die, I assure you!” Damon grinned. "I have two more demands you must fulfill without hesitation. First, you must never succumb to the practices of the countess, or I will not falter to end your existence. Second, once I depart from here, you must await the arrival of an old acquaintance of mine. He will aid you in bearing the burden I have bestowed upon you. He’s easily recognizable by the carnival mask he dons.”
Fernando's breathing grew more strained, despite the cessation of his bleeding.
"Fret not, for you can bathe in the sunlight—you are not a vampire. Remember... You are not a vampire!" Damon exclaimed, his voice brimming with emphasis at his last sentence.
With those final words, Damon turned away from the nearly unconscious Fernando.
"Farewell, my dear friend. I must attend to my duties, and your comrades will awaken once you depart, their memories wiped clean," Damon declared, vanishing after kissing his purple ring adorned with a bat figure and an amethyst. Twenty minutes later, the man Damon mentioned arrived on the scene.
"Good afternoon, Fernando! You may call me Visconti," the newcomer greeted, dressed in a sleek black suit accentuated by a vibrant red tie. A white Venetian mask concealed his face, adorned with two tusk-like scratches beneath the eyes—one in red and the other in blue—and golden lips.
Visconti offered a bow to Fernando. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. From this day forth, you shall join a society under my leadership... and with your presence, we are finally prepared."