The Obscurati (5 page)

“So, what happened?” I ask.

“What do you think happened?” Oberon said.

“I dropped part of the asshole into the Tegernsee tied to a rock,” Hamlet said matter-of-factly.

“
In
the lake?” Oberon commented.

“Yes. We went hiking there, remember?” I said. “What about the other half?”

“Huh?” Hamlet said, getting tipsy from his third round of Scotch in about five minutes. “Oh, I just dropped his head in the forest.”

“You’re a mess, dear,” Oberon said.

“I know. I know. I’m fucking angry. Look at that….” Hamlet held out his left hand. He had broken a nail. All I could do was close my eyes and shake my head.

My new friends from Houston were worried about Hamlet. His clothes were ripped, and he had obviously been in a fight.

“Is he going to be okay?”

“Hamlet?” I said. “Oh, sure. One of the locals wanted to do some queer-bashing.”

“He looks hurt. Does he need a hospital?”

“Naw, it’s just his clothes,” I said. “Trust me, the hoodlum got the worse end of the deal. I’m fairly sure of that.”

“Your friend doesn’t look like much of a fighter.”

“Book-by-the-cover, man,” I said. “Don’t be fooled. When it comes to fighting, Hamlet is what goes ‘bump in the night’.”

The couple wanted to exchange phone numbers. Cell phone numbers. I remember a time when the only cells we talked about were in a prison.

Times change. Thump. Thump.

Hey, did I tell you what I really think of modern so-called music?

Chapter 3

“
M
ÅRTEN
?” came a voice inside my head as I read in the library of Menz’s manor house. It was a woman.

“Hello, your majesty.” It was Queen Cécile, the five-thousand-year-old head of all the vampires in Europe.

“I need you and Hamlet, if you don’t mind,” she said calmly. It wasn’t a demand, but she was such a powerful vampire that she never really had to sound threatening. The queen wasn’t the type to bark orders; it wouldn’t fit her personality. She merely made a statement that she needed both of us.

“Tonight?” I asked in my head. She was in Switzerland, and I was in Bavaria. Communicating using mind-words was the oldest trick in the vampire toolbox. No effort. All you had to do was think about somebody, and it was like you had dialed their cell phone. We could use cell phones, but that would be so much slower.

“No, dear,” the queen said. “Tomorrow would be wonderful, if you aren’t busy.”

Her English was flawless, but she had had centuries to perfect it. I’m sure she could speak whatever language the pharaohs of Egypt spoke. She could have spoken with Alexander the Great and King Henry VIII, although I doubt she would have much to say to Henry. She seemed to like gay men, so she and Alexander had probably been good friends.

“Your wish is my command,” I said with reverence.

“Knock it off, Mårten,” she said in my head with a chuckle.

Okay, Hamlet and I were due at the court of the queen of Europe. She lives outside Bern, Switzerland.

Hamlet was already laying out his clothes when I made it to his room. It was a conference call! The queen had let Hamlet listen in to our conversation.

“You were a little informal for the queen,” Hamlet said.

“What do I tell Oberon?”

“Hmmm,” he said. Oberon wasn’t invited. It could mean Oberon was in trouble, but that wasn’t likely.

“You and I are the best fighters in Europe,” I said.

“I can whoop your ass twice every day without getting my shirt wrinkled,” Hamlet laughed.

“Oberon’s going to be worried.”

“Yeah, I know. Just tell him it is for a fight.”

That could work, and it was probably the truth anyway.

“Fight?” Oberon said from the doorway.

“Switzerland,” I said. “Queen Cécile wants Hamlet and I to pop over tomorrow night to fight somebody.”

“I’m not invited?”

There was no way for me to break it to him gently. He felt hurt. Maybe he was worried about me.

“The queen said Hamlet and me. Menz isn’t going either. Paco isn’t going.”

“What’s it about?” Oberon asked.

“Queen stuff,” Hamlet said, shrugging his shoulders. “She asks, and we pop.”

Oberon looked like somebody had shot him. He had his Goth game-face on, but this one was real. He was sulking, and it wasn’t an act.

“Oberon?” It was the queen again. Her mind-words were in my head. Hamlet and Oberon could “hear” too.

“Your Majesty.”

“Something has come up, and I have asked your husband and Hamlet to come to Switzerland tomorrow.”

“I know, Queen Cécile.”

“Would it be possible for you to join them? I need your assistance building some armaments,” she said in our minds.

“Of course,” Oberon said.

“Menz does not need to be involved,” she said. “If he asks, make some excuse that you want to get away for a couple of days. Sorry to be so secretive.”

“I understand, ma’am,” Oberon thought.

The queen was one cool monarch. You learn a lot about working with personalities in five thousand years. She probably sensed Oberon’s reaction to the original invitation. I hoped she wasn’t mad at me because Oberon knew, but how could I keep my absence a secret from him? We have celebrated our hundredth anniversary as a couple, and that makes secrets almost impossible.

So, did she really need Oberon, or was she trying to smooth things over for my benefit? I don’t know, and it didn’t matter.

“Hamlet, Oberon, and Mårten,” I said aloud.

“We do make a dashing team together,” Oberon said.

“Can we all fuck now?” Hamlet said.

“No,” I said, but I noticed a bulge growing in Oberon’s pants. He still has that teenage dick that jumps to attention with little provocation, which is probably unusual for a man over a hundred years old.

I left Oberon and Hamlet alone, shaking my head as I left.

Chapter 4

“S
O
WHAT
do you think the situation really is?” Oberon asked as he joined me at a table on the backside of the mansion. The table was on a patio overlooking the garden. The garden slowly and methodically pushed against its winter hibernation. Crocus leaves were peeking out through the dead-for-the-winter ground cover.

Vampires don’t feel cold, but a thermometer on the wall told me that it was only about three degrees (a little under forty degrees Fahrenheit). That’s cold to humans. I saw patches of snow here and there. The garden was little more than potential at this time of year, but it was beautiful in the way it stood up against the German deep freeze. Eventually the garden would win and banish the cold until autumn. I could sit at that table for hours every night, admiring the garden in its starkness. It was an empty shell waiting for the warming sun. It wanted to be pretty and pleasing, but it had to struggle against the force of winter.

Oberon walked behind where I sat and put his hands on my shoulders. He let his hands fall tenderly over my tits until one hand grabbed my cock.

“Hamlet didn’t take care of you?” I asked.

“Hamlet is a fuck,” Oberon said. “I make love only to you, and you know it.”

He kissed my cheek and then walked to sit next to me.

“You really are a dream,” I admitted. “Your English now puts my German to shame.”

“Right, but you know Swedish. That has to be useful.”

“In Sweden, sure. It doesn’t get much play elsewhere. You know what languages?”

“German, English, French, Spanish, Italian, Greek, Russian, and Arabic.”

“Okay, Russian?”

“I like languages.”

“No, you like running up the scoreboard,” I said. “What possible use do you have in knowing Greek?”

“Have you ever had sex with a Greek sailor?”

“No.”

“Then I can’t explain it.”

“You keep learning languages,” I said.

“It’s my hobby.”

Two lovely young men walked out onto the patio. They were bundled head to toe. Food.

“Let’s go in,” I said.

“The cold is okay,” one of the men said.

“I want to see you with less clothing,” Oberon admitted.

“I’m not gay,” one said.

“I know,” Oberon said with a wink. “I’m not trying to get you into bed. I see two eyes peering out of your coat, so how do I know if I am hurting you?”

It made sense to the humans, and the four of us walked inside to the library. Oberon and I fed.

When a civilized vampire feeds, it is a sensual affair for the blood donor, even for heterosexuals. There is something in vampire saliva that makes the human feel great pleasure. It also makes their wound heal almost as fast as a vampire’s. I feed from the donor’s wrist, letting my fangs sink in softly. When I feel the blood start to flow, I count to twenty slowly, and then I hold my tongue over the two holes in the donor’s arm. When the blood has stopped flowing, I swallow and then lick the wound. By that point, the arm is almost completely healed. Within an hour or two, there isn’t even a mark.

The healing is why we keep the computer spreadsheet updated. We never take blood from anyone more than once or twice a week. And if the donor is on top of the list but is sick or not in the mood, we respect it.

It is a topsy-turvy world. Humans murder and make war on each other, and vampires are the ones most concerned about the well-being of humanity.

Both donors were more businesslike than most of our regulars. One said he was straight, and the other just wasn’t my type. He might have been straight too. Neither set off my “gaydar.” We got their blood, and they were getting a college education for free. Everybody wins.

“Do you know what the queen wants?” Oberon said in my head. When we have a conversation about the queen or the vampire council, it is almost always in the head. Nobody speaks aloud of such things. They don’t want humans to know anything about the queen or the council. Sometimes they don’t want certain vampires to know what’s going on. The council is always secretive.

“We’ll find out tomorrow night,” I said, using mind-words as well. “Don’t worry about it, and don’t make idle conversation about it.”

“I know. I know.”

“Hamlet has probably worked himself into a tizzy,” I said. “He never knows what to wear to Switzerland.”

“He obsesses over his appearance.”

“Fancy shirt is not going to be the reason for the trip.”

“I thought you didn’t want idle conversation,” Oberon said with a wink.

Chapter 5

T
HE
queen lives in what appears to be an office building in the Länggasse quarter of Bern in Switzerland. The building is on a hill and offers a spectacular view.

From the outside, it really looks like an office building. Landscaping keeps the curious from noticing that there is more activity at night than during the day. Plenty goes on during the day, but that is really just the support staff.

The queen has owned the land around her building for longer than there have been written records. When she decided to call this part of Switzerland home, it was all wooded. The town of Bern was just a kind of peninsula in the Aare River. The city has grown to surround the queen’s land. She has built and re-built several times over the centuries, just to stay as invisible as possible. It wasn’t her fault that the Swiss decided to make her part of the world a city.