The Feasting
This bloodline was strong, I'd been warned for years and now felt it in the air as I approached the manor. They were secretly immigrants, as the mother was estranged sister to the Dutch Abraham Van Helsing. Her family exiled her when she was caught sleeping with a Paganist, and Britain has never been fond of foreigners. The father was a direct descendant of Lancelot and Guinevere's bastard -a lineage born from turbulence and unfettered passion. His birthmother was a traveling English gypsy. She fell for man named Grigori Rasputin, and left his name behind when he left her. The father's name was Joseph Davies, the mother's now Mila Davies, and their offspring were four strong males. Great power draws toward itself, and here was one of the greatest lineages of amalgamated power.
Bernard Davies was the eldest, 24, a skilled swordsman and scholar. His mind followed his mother's -drawn helplessly into the occult. He was known to assort with Aleister Crowley; whether this was in communion, to someday betray him, or simply to more comprehensibly understand the supernatural, was never known. He was tall and nimble, wore spectacles when days were dark and always prided himself in dressing correctly for each occasion. His fencing gear was always clean and fit him well. His suit jacket's buttons were properly polished to an even shine without being obnoxious at every gala. He only ever overdressed in satin and slacks, when he didn't own garments casual enough to go into town without great purpose.
He was born in 1897, two years after the Davies married and purchased this secluded residence. Some believe their wealth to be a final gift from the Van Helsing family, others say it is from ancient treasures amassed by the Round Table. Whatever the true source, their fortune was immense. The manor was roughly twenty kilometers north of Scarborough, set upon a vast estate with crops, livestock, and numerous domiciles of yet unknown purpose, bordering the North Sea.
The second eldest was called Adam Davies, a crass lad of only 19, known for getting in fights with local ruffians, bringing ostracized Italian girls to bed, drinking heavily, and working the fields and animals of the Davies estate. His stature was that of the bull: handsome, yet brutishly, wide and muscular but slightly short. His aggression most likely stemmed from the seemingly subservient position he held in the household, never as intelligent as his elder brother, used instead as a blunt object with which to hold the beasts and the earth in conformity. This made him identify with the local working class and often squabble amongst them, indulgent in his ability to beat them physically and take their women.
The two other children were 18-year-old twins Fredrick and Thaddeus Davies. These two were intimate, caring for each other but nearly nothing else. The great expectations of their parents alongside the intense scholarship and physicality of their respective siblings left them no preordained position in the world. The world to them was malevolent, an unfeeling hoard of bullish decisions without thought to the final ramifications. They learned only what they desired to from the family library, kept mostly to themselves throughout their childhood and now built off each other as adults. What one didn't know the other would. They learned the intricacies behind their sibling's decisions, spent their time thinking through other beings, dissolving them to arithmetic and treating them as such. Their desires were never truly knowable, the only proof that they had desires was in the mystery behind their actions.
I know this because my brethren know this. This manor is a famed horror, simple to penetrate, but impossible to escape. Maya, Katherine, Damion, Arabella, Azariah, all them were lost to the Davies manor. Many have studied it, I have as well. The residents have been listed and traced through facial features and public records and followed from the shadows so we may know what we know now. Their power is palpable, the air is thick around them. It's beyond smell or taste, it's a metaphysical attraction stronger than any human we've known.
For the past three weeks I've flown over the manor, I dare not come as a wolf for fear of Adam. In the midnight hour, two moons before tonight, Adam tried to seduce me. It was in the Gaiman & Dixon Public House where I watched from a corner table, draining a bottle of 1900 Château Margaux, while he jostled bearded dock workers from his path. Inebriated as he was, he first glanced before staring, infatuated by my dark Italian beauty.
He courted with an air of enforced entitlement; I gave him the name Camilla Pappano. His force was strong, masculine blood and tightly bound muscles. His words came from deep within his throat, as if imitating a Viking deity. I have never felt such temptation, my eyes were fixed to the dusty floorboards and my fingers writhed around the bottle. Speaking to him soon took my breath away, I could only please myself by looking. Turning him down had been the greatest challenge. He asked with an oddly cordial crudeness whether I would make love with him in his manor. I put my hand around his forearm and squeezed until he realized how strong I was and told him I would not. I was nearly dripping wet when I asserted that power over him.
I feasted that night on a dockworker while moaning his name. Bill McCarthy was the name of the single man I took. We firstly talked about the rudeness of Adam and he told me of the public's fear and intrigue with which they viewed the Davies' Manor. I laughed and agreed with him, complementing his wholesome and charming nature, guiltily admitting an attraction to elder, experienced men.
He invited me to his home after I declined Adam Davies. His flat was a singular cramped room with muskets and books on dock-work and management. He seemed to truly be passionate about his job. After undressing I put his inferior prick between my legs and rode it for all he was worth while letting that name 'Adam' drift with exponential clarity and volume from my lips. Once Bill McCarthy made some pathetic note of this I bit into his neck and drank from his veins. I came on his sheets and left him lying unconscious as I flew in perfect time to watch Adam return home with another woman.
Now was the time. The sensations drowned me as I approached from the sky. The force of humanity from their constant inhabitance of this place and my essence being enclosed within a bat's body consumed me with desire. I knew my point of entrance, the second chimney from the west. At this hour Joseph and Mila read to each other in the first-floor parlor by the central fireplace, while Bernard was letting himself fall asleep in his second-floor west wing study, Adam was swooning some enticed tramp in a central/east room on the second-floor, and the twins were in the east wing of the third-floor with the shutters closed.
To my knowledge, none who came before me used this approach, having to request entrance was most likely the downfall of all those other vampires. I was given a remarkable advantage by Adam's attempted seduction. While he invited me into his manor and to sleep with him, I only refused to sleep with him. I was unsure if this would prove viable now, thinking perhaps I had waited too long since his proposal, but I passed through the second west chimney without incident.
