The Vampires of Hungary

"Garas, you're probably wondering why you're still alive, well, we got a job for you, one a sorry bitch like you shouldn't fuck up, you're to take out those rogues, consider that part of your penance," Erik Lazar, Second Prime of the House of Magyar says to me before putting three photographs on the table. I look at the tall, pale, flame-haired and green-eyed little Undead bozo and snicker, right in his fucking face. Seriously, how did this nitwit sneak into my place again?

Flanked by a couple of muscle-bound fanged types clad in cheap suits, wearing the type of sunglasses favored by henchmen in Hollywood B-movies, Erik Lazar couldn't look more stupid if he tried. I heard he'd been around since the days of the Kingdom of Hungary, which concluded in 1526. The dude was over half a millennium old and was still middle management. What a fool. Of course, I didn't tell him that. You see, those henchmen of his are carrying automatic assault rifles modified to accommodate silver bullets, the bane of our species.

I have never been one to play politics, preferring to do my own thing rather than align myself with a particular House, and to me, these politicos with fangs are supremely boring. Coming into my lair is a big no-no, even if I'm only in the City of Szeged, Hungary, for a few weeks. I should have known that Lazar and his thugs would come calling. Oh, well. No peace for the wicked, I guess. Guess that's what I guess for messing with the Hungarian Vampire Mob...

"I don't work for free, dude, double my usual fee for disturbing me and being a dick," I retorted, and Lazar scoffs, then nods. With that, he departs, I slowly let out the breath that I hadn't even realized I was holding. One of the many perks of being a Vampire is that we don't require oxygen. I slowly shift in my bed, wondering how in hell I'd allowed myself to get so sloppy. An assassin who's easily caught unawares is in the wrong line of work, wouldn't you say?

Oh, snap, I'm getting ahead of myself, aren't I? The name is Zita Garas, but everyone just calls me Garas. I was born and raised in the City of Boston, Massachusetts. My mother Elena Garas is of Hungarian descent, and my father, Zafar Camara came from Senegal. I am the daughter of two worlds, I guess. I grew up to be six feet tall, neither fat nor thin, neither Black nor White, but uncomfortably in the middle, as in curvy, with light brown skin, curly dark hair and golden brown eyes.

Did I mention that my parents are Vampires? Oh yeah, I'm always forgetting that part. In the movies, a person meets a Vampire, gets bitten, and then they become one of the Undead. In real life it doesn't quite work out like that. You see, there are two kinds of Vampires. First and foremost, there are the Pureblood Ones, like myself. I'm talking about species, not skin tone, so bear with me.

We Purebloods are those who were born as Vampires, and we possess powers that others lack. Take me for example. I can easily lift ten times my body weight, and I can grab a grown man and toss him ten feet into the air with one hand. I can outrun the best Olympic track and field runners. I possess superhuman stamina, and I recover quickly from almost any injury. Now, as cool as all that sounds, being a Pureblood does not make me invincible...

The light of the sun pains me, but I have greater resistance to it than other Vampires. If I stay in the sun for an hour, I will weaken. If I stay in the sun for three hours, I will die. Other Vampires aren't so lucky, full expose to the sun's light sets their flesh ablaze, killing them instantly. Those other Vampires that I mentioned, they're the Turned Ones. They were once human, and a Pureblood bit them without taking the time to ensure they did not rise again. As of 2018, the Turned Ones outnumber us Purebloods fifty to one in most countries...

Rising from bed, fighting the natural sleepiness that my kind feel at the onset of daylight, I take a look at the photographs that Lazar left on my table. Two of them were ordinary Vampires, Purebloods who rebelled against the establishment, as in they broke ties with the House of Magyar. Lazar should have taken them out himself, but the lazy bozo likes to outsource his dirty work. The third photograph was of a mortal, one who would have made my heart skip a beat, if it ever beat...

"Victor Brownstone," I whisper as I look at the photograph of a tall, handsome, dark-skinned man with a smooth shaved head and a slick goatee, clad in Black leather. I repress a shudder, and a flood of memories assail my consciousness. Mistakes, I've made a few, ladies and gentlemen. One of them was a certain charming African American police officer whom I met in the City of Atlanta, Georgia, circa 2014.

I'd gone to Atlanta on the trail of Yuri Drava, a particularly nasty Vampire who wanted to establish his own House in America, in competition with the established Houses already in place in places like Budapest, Johannesburg, Manaus, Tokyo, Accra, Mumbai, and Shanghai. Since I was the assassin with the most experience operating in America, I'd been assigned the task of eliminating Yuri and his merry band of ambitious Immortals. Along the way, I met the hunky Victor...

"You're unlike any woman I've ever known," Victor Brownstone said to me, the night we met. It was to be a very unique night for both of us, one which I would definitely never forget. I'd confronted Boris, one of Yuri Drava's acolytes, one with a history of slaughtering entire families for his sick pleasure. I followed him into a dark alley in the small town of Hampton, Georgia, intent on putting an end to his reign of terror.

Boris, a particularly tall, strongly built and vicious Vampire, somehow managed to overpower me. Victor Brownstone, then a detective with the Atlanta Police Department, had been tracking Boris on the assumption that he was a serial killer, intervened and in doing so, saved my life. Victor pumped ten lead bullets into Boris, dazing the Vampire strongman long enough for me to decapitate him.

"I thank you for your aid, but you should forget what you saw tonight, if you value your life," I said to Victor, after the decapitated Boris turned to dust. Victor looked at the spot where Boris body had lain mere moments ago, then at me. As the mortal's eyes met mine, I felt a pleasant tingle all over. A lot of Vampires have mortal lovers but I've never found mortals attractive, with their frailty and fear of the unknown...until that moment.

"Lady, whoever you are, whatever you are, you can trust me, I owe you my life," Victor replied. I should have killed him. For the past ten thousand years, any mortal who learned of the existence of Vampires has been slain. Instead, I broke the rules and let Victor live. Later, when we ran into each other in Atlanta, I did something else I shouldn't have done. I took Victor home with me, to my hotel room, and once there, we didn't do a whole lot of talking. The handsome brother knew I wasn't quite human, and he did not care...

"Oh fuck," I squealed as Victor laid me on my hotel bedroom, and after undressing me, the brother buried his face between my thighs. I shuddered violently, pinching my tits and moaning softly as Victor ate my pussy. His tongue, warm and slick, slid into my pussy, teasing my clitoris, and suffusing my cold, Undead flesh with wonderful warmth. I was like putty in this fearless mortal's hands, and I think we both knew it...

"Sweetness, you haven't felt anything yet," Victor teased, and as the evening rolled on, the Atlanta stud showed me what he was made of. I found myself on all fours, face down and ass up, as Victor proceeded to worship my curvy body. Even as a Vampire, ageless and undying, I had moments where I felt self-conscious about my height, my curves, my large breasts, my wide hips and my thick thighs. I spent most of my time in Europe where my exotic beauty appealed to many, but my curves did not...

"Oh Victor," I murmured as he spread my bum and proceeded to eat my ass while fingering my pussy. After stimulating both my holes like this, Victor showed me what he was made of. I marveled at his toned, muscular physique, and caressed his chest before feverishly grabbing his dick. Like a lot of men down south, Victor was well-endowed, and I couldn't wait to feel him inside of me. First, though, I gave him the taste test...

"Hmm, your lips are cold, sexy lady, but I don't mind," Victor cooed softly, as I knelt before him and took his dick into my mouth. I sucked his dick like my life depended on it, and Victor was tickled pink when I rubbed my breasts against his manhood. Once I had him good and hard, Victor spread my thighs, lifted my legs in the air and thrust his big dark dick into my pussy. Just like that, we began to fuck.

"Go for it, Victor, fuck me harder," I demanded, looking up at my strong, passionate lover as he fucked me. I found myself squealing in delight, and pinching my nipples as Victor's hard dick filled my pussy. I've had many lovers, female and male, but the African American stud from Atlanta was in a category by himself. We went at it for hours, fucking over practically every square inch of my hotel. I didn't think it was possible for a mere mortal to match a Vampire's stamina, especially during sex, but I was happy to be proven wrong...

Ladies and gentlemen, as you can see, Victor Brownstone and I share quite a history. I hadn't seen him in quite some time, and decided to do a bit of research. We Vampires have our own Intranet which is separate from the regular Internet and encrypted in Strigorium, the Vampire language. I looked up any files or headings on Victor Brownstone, and what I found simply amazed me. My former lover has definitely been a busy guy...

According to the archives, Victor Brownstone has recruited a sizable group of mortals, most of them former police and military, and they call themselves the Clean Slate Group or C.S.G. They are secretly funded by some wealthy members of the private sector, and they've been taking out Vampires left and right. Throughout history, various groups of mortals have hunted our kind, but they've been like a drop in the ocean. Well, Victor and his buddies have taken out several members of the House of Tempus, which rules much of the American South...

"Victor, what have you done?" I whispered as I looked at the list of Vampires that have been slain by the Clean Slate Group. I closed my eyes, hard. Victor and his buddies number several dozen, and they seem to be going after all Vampires, not just the vicious and evil ones like Boris, Yuri and their ilk. Victor, why didn't you come to me? I asked myself. Silently, I resigned myself to my duty.

Two days later, I headed to Budapest, and boarded a Turkish Airlines flight bound for Atlanta, Georgia. The seventeen-hour flight gave me plenty of time to think. We only had one stop on the way, which was nice. The previous night, I killed the two Vampire targets that Erik Lazar and the House of Magyar assigned to me. I still had mixed feelings about Victor Brownstone. A mortal with intelligence, strength, and ruthless. What a magnificent Vampire he'd make...

When a human discovers or threatens the existence of Vampires, he or she must either be killed or turned into a Vampire. That's the Law for all my kind and any Vampire who disobeys it, whether he or she is a Pureblood or one of the Turned, that law breaker is a traitor and must be killed. I will go to Atlanta, find Victor Brownstone, and offer him a choice. I turn him and he becomes one of us, and he helps me take out his merry band of slayers. Or I kill him and then methodically hunt down his buddies one by one. Let the games begin...