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Think of me as an Austro-Hungarian raconteur. I've graced the legendary coffee houses of Vienna and Budapest and Prague. I've danced at Schonbrun Palace and tasted the blood of Hapsburg royals. Some say I invented the czardas, or that it was invented for me. I have a lock of Cissie's hair... more than a lock... live strands complete with waxy roots and all. Some day we'll grow her back. I'm told the roots hold volumes on each and every one of us. Who has your hair?
Don't ask my age, or the place of my nativity. Who cares for such arbitrary details? But know me as Baron Sareki. That role defines me. Am I vahmpir?... Yes I am vahmpir ... and I am showman, impresario, rememberer of things past and so much more... I am orchestrating a 'come back,' though I have never gone anywhere.
It was so much easier being vahmpir in the old days. Private things were private things. People believed what you told them to believe. Brash, showy but eccentric Mittl-Europan 'aristocrats' were two for a pfennig . And the occasional missing 'ladies of the Ring Strasse' meant nothing. Members of the Gendarmerie barely noticed. Men of a certain sort were worth even less.
Unlike your Jonathon, I took no vows. Once I heard an advocate (lawyer) say most murders are aberrations. People snap. The right stimulus at the right time can cause that. Murder happens. Someone dies and then it's over. Skies clear. Birds sing. Peace reigns and the killer never does that thing again. Murder addicts, what you now call serial killers are rare. I think night-folk commit the same aberrant act over and over again. The trigger... the visceral blood lust... But in our case the circumstance, or the trigger, or the tension never disappears... Who knows? Perhaps we are serial killers. I mean do you think the Menendez Brothers will kill again?... The whole issue puzzles me. Are we battered individuals? Was the vampire who brought us over, in effect, out batterer? Is the only cure peasants with pitchforks, or some such variation?
Our individual conditions... yours... mine.. everyone's are so muddled. That's just how life is...
But the 'wine' flows... and we of the vampire persuasion possess near immortality, so tonight I dance. Tonight I feast. If I happen to drain you, or some other human you're attached to, hate me not. The act is not 'personal,' but an automatic reaction to a trigger far beyond my control.
Such savory little treats you all are... like sweet and sour meatballs drenched in gravy.
Ah, wunderbar.
(clicks heels) Baron Sareki is pleased to taste... no, forget I said that... Baron Sareki is pleased to meet you...
<Baron Sareki's tale will continue>
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