Stefan's Tale Part 2

Well, the time was upon us, and we all bundled into the dining room, each dragging our respective dates along with us. Mother and father had each invited a couple from the surrounding farms, to add some solid meat to the table, so all in all we numbered eighteen. Except, that we didn’t number eighteen. Counting the filled seats, we numbered only seventeen. Stefan had failed to bring a date.

            A palpable sense on tension filled the room, as father said grace. Happily, the introduction of the food relieved some of the awkwardness, As with tradition, Scott started the meal by asking for silence. He then bent on one knee, and turned to his date, a stocky girl of Germanic heritage. She covered her mouth with one hand, as he grasped her other hand with both of his. He smiled at her…but instead of popping the question as she no doubt expected, he popped his fangs. She didn’t even have time to scream before he fell on her wrist in a frenzy. This signaled the rest of us to introduce our dates in similar, albeit less dramatic, manner.

            The smell of blood permeated the air as we drank and drank, passing each dish around the table. I’m proud to say what’s-her-name-from-china did me proud; she added such a foreign flavor to our feast. The final dish was a bottle of wine that father had laid down using the blood left over from the last feast, fifty years ago. Five decades of aging added just a tint of bitterness to the blood, which gnawed and snarled at the back of my throat before submitting to my maw. Appetites satiated, but not fully satisfied, we adjourned to the lounge to discuss business.

            All of us children had our reports of the past five years, and all of us had our proposals for the next five. This is a general requirement at our five-year family conferences, but is absolutely a necessity at the fifty-year’s feast. As is customary, we proceeded from the youngest child to the oldest, the theory being that we were saving the best report for last. Sadly, this was not always so; Scott’s reports could be so boring that the entire family fervently wished to die (Well, Diane actually did attempt suicide during one of Scott’s reports, but we stopped her).

            Anyway, I went first and then Selena, Patrick, and Diane. That’s when the trouble really got going. Stefan stood up to give his report, and we all perked up because Stefan’s speech was bound to be more interesting than Scott’s. That turned out to be true, but not in the way that any of us had expected. That would be because he didn’t have one. He stood up, cleared his throat, and said in his low growl, “I have nothing to report.” Then, he just sat down. This crossed a line. Not bringing a dish to the feast is rude, but not bringing a report is insubordination.

            Father raised his bushy eyebrows in incredulity.

            “Have you forgotten how to give a report, Stefan?” He asked, clearly trying to give Stefan an out.

            “No.” Stefan said, deadpan, “There is nothing to report.”

            Father harrumphed and said, “Well Stefan, that is disappointing. Most disappointing indeed. But then, I suppose you will not object to staying here at the manor with us for a while, until you’ve gotten some manners back into you?” Stefan said nothing, but glared sullenly at the floor.

            That business concluded, Scott stood and nervously gave his report. He must have shortened it a great deal, because no one was listening to him. Scott then jumped right into his five-year proposal, which was something boring that had to do with some territory negations between our family and another. “Thank you, Scott.” Father said, attempting to force some vigor into his voice, and failing miserably. “You proposal sounds reasonable, and will no doubt be accepted when we vote on it later. Stefan? Do you…?” He trailed off as Stefan looked up at him and simply said, “No.”

            The proposals went by in a blur; nothing could overshadow the strangeness of Stefan’s actions. At last, it was my turn again. I stood up, and composed myself before taking the plunge.

            “As you are all aware, I have just five years ago moved my operations region to the country across the waters. I currently reside in a reasonable estate on the mid-western region of the United States. This affords me good access to most of the country by plane, should an emergency arise. This has been a good location, for the past five years. Looking forward, however, I think it will be necessary to have greater access and control over the western coast, and the Asian lands beyond it. Therefore, I propose that I relocate my center of operations to as city on the coast.”

            At this, Stefan leapt to his feet and spat at me, “Those territories belong to me!” Father waved him to his seat, and looked at me fiercely.

“Rude as he is, Stefan has a point. Why should you receive from Stefan’s portion?”

I answered carefully, and with as little emotion as possible, “Stefan’s point would be valid, this is true…if his claim to the territory were in truth, valid.” In the collective gasp that followed, I spoke swiftly and commandingly.

“Stefan has not been exemplary these past five years,” I stated, pacing form side to side, “even disregarding his behavior tonight. From my vantage in the States, much rumor has reached my ears. Rumor that speaks of a new and dangerous clan Stefan plans to create; one he has in fact already begun to create.”

Stefan shouted something in denial, but again Father waved him down. “Where is your evidence of these grave accusations?”

I gazed triumphantly and directly at Stefan. “My evidence lies in the source of the rumors, one who would know very intimately the details of such a plan. The vampires Demelza, whom they call the rogue.

To explain: Demelza is a vampiress who belonged to another clan, a clan that had given us no small measure of trouble in the past. Unexpectedly, they spat her out of their ranks, due to her irresponsible blood-lust and tendencies to incite violence between clans. She went rogue, belonging to no one and obeying nothing, save for the dictates of her own twisted conscience. We’d had to fight her off of our territory before, and we had no love of her.

“Rumor, however, is not enough to satisfy me. I desired proof, and so I traveled to China, on the pretense of a vacation. What I found there was shocking.” I threw a small packet of photographs onto the table we sat around. “These are photographs I took of a meeting between, Demelza, to vampires who I have never seen nor smelled before, and Stefan. According to the dictates of our clan, Stefan has been consorting with an enemy to the clan, and has been inciting rebellion by splitting form us.”

I sat, waiting to see what effect my words and my evidence would have. I did not wait long.

“Stefan.” Father said, with quiet fury in his voice, “What truth is their in this? Do you deny these claims, this evidence?”

“I deny nothing,” Stefan snarled, “For there is nothing to deny. I have been meeting with Demelza, we have been lovers these past three years. Together, we have raised three strong sons, and will raise more. I have long been waiting for the chance to leave your house, and now I have the means to do it. Your outmoded ways would have us scraping and bowing to the other clans, but I will not submit. I have too much honor to willingly put myself under another’s heel.

“Know then, Stefan,” Father said, his voice more quiet and yet more menacing than I had ever heard before, “That your wish is granted.” Stefan blinked in surprise.

“It is?”

“Yes,” Father said, malice like a flickering flame behind his eyes, “You will be beholden to no one, just as you have described. Because you are now and forevermore rogue. I declare you a traitor, a rebel, an outsider. You are not, and never will be welcome in my house again. Leave now, while I still allow it.”

Stefan stepped back, then turned on his heel and made for the door. He stopped at the door, as if about to say something, but instead merely tried to express his hatred toward me in a glare. Ah, there was such venom in it (Not actual venom. it was…figurative venom. Is that a real thing?)! Then he left, slamming the door behind him.

“On that happy note, I believe we should continue on to the voting.” I said, a grin upon my face.

That’s it. Where you expecting something heart-warming, involving a fat old man garbed in red, carrying gifts for all the good little children in the world? Clearly you haven’t been reading my blog very thoroughly.

Merry Christmas, sleep well, and email me your address if you’d like to invite me for Christmas dinner. I can make any event a once in a life-time experience.