plateau of Mount Cetatea, Romania

plateau of Mount Cetatea, Romania

* The limo climbed the steep road to Poenari Castle. Most people thought it was nothing more than a ruined castle, which was only accessible by climbing an ungodly amount of concrete stairs. They were wrong. There was another entrance. And the castle was far from abandoned. Vlad the Impaler had used it as his main fortress. I'd joined him for meals a time or two. It had been taken over by the Bolshevik family in the first half of the sixteenth century. I had taken this trip because something told me that Matre Blogis​​​​ rumored death had been greatly exaggerated. The mission I had sent him on was one of utter importance. The Bolshevik family and my own had history - and not good history. Our lives were bound by blood shed and torture. A deep rooted hatred and desire to destroy. For the sake of our own kind, we had left our home country and navigated to the New World. We were dotted all over the globe. But it didn't change the fact that Romania was our home. The root of our very being. And it certainly didn't negate the fact that home lands and treasures had been taken. That people within our species were disappearing and being tortured; used for experiments before dying slow, torturous deaths. Yumar Bolshevik was neither friend nor foe. He had taken the throne after the death of his father, Vladimir Bolshevik. I didnt trust him. Taking Matre, a trained soldier with the utmost intelligence about the Kurjan compound and the Realm with King Kayrs would be something he would attempt. I cared little for the Realm and less for the Kayrs. But we had come to some sort of agreement and I intended to keep it. The door opened, jarring me from my thoughts. I stepped out, buttoning my suit jacket. The man held open the door for me and I preceded him inside. The great hall was huge and open, however, no natural light filtered in. Bolshevik sat at the long table, his associates gathered as I stepped inside. * Blogis. You come unexpected. * His voice boomed through the stone rooms. * Yes, indeed. Quite unexpected. Much like the news of my greatest soldiers demise. * I remained standing, having not been offered a seat. * It was a terrible accident, the whole thing. * I cocked a brow. * Was it, now? * My back was against the wall, so I could see should anyone try and get a jump on me. My own soldiers were most likely surrounding the stone walls of the castle in anticipation for a coming battle. * You doubt what I tell you, eh? * Bolshevik stood from the table, his thick build one of pure muscle, his blonde hair slicked back on his head. * I doubt the conclusion you came to, yes. I came to see for myself. Speak with those who fought next to Matre. Truth be told, I can't believe the trifling son of a bitch is dead. * Bolshevik chuckled, the sound thick from the cigars he regularly smoked. * He's not your favorite, I assume? * I brushed lint off of my suit jacket, bored with the conversation as it was. * No. He's a pain in the ass and more trouble than he's worth. But he was my soldier - leader of them, if you will - and I would like his remains returned back to me. He'd spit at the thought of being buried on Bolshevik ground. No offense, mind you. * I really didn't want to have to fight these asshole. I eyed Bolshevik head on. * There are no remains. * He was adamant. * Am I really being lead to believe that my Kurjan soldier disintegrated? In the black of night? * Tension exploded in the room. * We both know that's horse shit, Yumar. Perhaps you will give me a tour of your castle. Show me your dungeons? * I was giving him the opportunity to save face. To do this in a way that left his ego intact. But my own patience was thin and time was something I didn't have. Jake Craven​ was imploding and if I was right, Matre was the only one who could stop it. * I don't do tours, Blogis. This isn't a museum. It is my home. * The sound that rumbled out of my chest has a maid trembling as she carried a silver tray of dessert. * I will burn this motherfucker to the ground, Bolshevik, in search of my soldiers. I won't care how many of you little bastards I kill in the process. Do you? * There were snickers from everyone lounging around the table. I sighed and tapped the ear communicator. * Now. * On that one word, the windows shattered as my soldiers raced in. I moved down the long haul, grabbing the arm of a screaming redhead. * Show me to the dungeon. Immediately. * She fought as I tugged her with me. * I will let you live if you do as I ask. If you don't...well, you will be quite the tasty snack. * I flashed my fangs at her in warning. She pointed to a bookshelf that was so obviously a hidden entrance. She opened it and I shoved her through it first as we made our way into an open hall. *