Chapter Twenty-Three 2 page

Vasco wanted to see me stand on my own two feet. When the rest of the Rosso Lussuria was either cruel or cold to me, Vasco had become my friend and in some respects a mentor. Just like any good friend and mentor, he wanted to see me succeed. Then again, the random thought that it was a lot like a mother bird shoving the baby out of the nest before it’s ready also occurred to me.

There were times when you either sank or soared.

“You know what happens to a vampire that breaks the binds of clan,” he said.

“They are declared Il Deboli,” I whispered. The Weak. Being declared Il Deboli meant that any other clan within the territory could slaughter another vampire in our modern world caught without a clan’s aid. It took extreme measures in vampire society to keep the peace. We were a selfish lot, an arrogant lot, and most vampires left to their own devices had a tendency to go on some major power trips. There was nothing that would bruise a thousand-year-old vampire’s pride more than having to share territory with Il Deboli. This was why the society was carefully established. Only the strongest and most powerful of us held a throne within each clan.

Therefore, if the need arose, each clan had a leader that could knock any naughty little vampires silly. Beneath the throne sat the Elders, which Vasco was among. The Elders were the voice of the clan as a whole. Underlings did not have much of a voice. We served those more powerful.

Ultimately, true power rested with the Queen. Yet, the Elders were granted courtly privileges that we were not. Underlings were to be unobtrusive, to go about tasks quietly, carefully keeping our eyes averted. The only time Underlings would raise their gaze was when they were directly spoken to. To do so when you were not spoken to was to challenge another.

“Sì,” he said and the sadness in his tone made my heart ache.

One of Vasco’s powers was that he was a master at projecting his emotions onto another.

Unfortunately for me, I was a master at absorbing those emotions like a sponge. Empathy, they called it, the ability to read and sense the emotions of another. If I had not already come into my power before I turned two hundred, I would not be offered the chance to become an Elder. Powers were a finicky thing; some vampires gained them and some did not. Yet, among the Rosso Lussuria, a vampire had to have power in order to protect herself. If you did not, you were automatically at the mercy of someone who was more powerful. For nearly a hundred and fifty years, Vasco’s friendship had given me a measure of protection from the Elders.

I shook my head, as if that one small gesture would shake off the emotions he’d projected.

“I don’t know if I can do this, Vasco.”

“Do what, bellezza?”

“You know,” I said softly.

How could he not know? He, like every other vampire in the Rosso Lussuria, knew what I had once been. He, more than anyone, knew what such a trial would cost me.

“Her?” he asked.

I dipped my head.

He reclined against the wooden bedpost with a look of sympathy.

“You cannot keep avoiding her,” he said. “It has been a hundred and fifty years, Epiphany. You are in the full bloom of your powers. It is your right to take a seat among us Elders.” Things were serious when he used my name and not one of the many nicknames by which he called me.

“I know how long it’s been, Vasco. I am not unaware of the time that has passed or of my power.”

“I do not understand why you would hold on to memories that will only hinder you.”

I swallowed past the knot that tightened my throat. He didn’t understand, not completely. He knew full well what I had become when our Queen cast me from her bed. He had seen the wreckage of me, then. It had been one hundred and fifty years, and still, I feared facing her. Even with Vasco’s protection, I’d deliberately avoided her. She was our Queen and my Siren vampire. But she had been so much more to me.

Once, she had been everything.

It was rare that Underlings were forced to attend open court. So for years I had succeeded in avoiding Renata. When I did see her, a place inside me that I thought numb and empty ached beyond all reason, beyond thought. If she spoke to me, I kept my words short and politic and tried not to reveal how much merely a look from her sent my limbs to trembling.

I did not want to see her. I did not want to stand before her in open court and see the place where I once knelt by her throne.

Even now, the memories were crippling. If only I did not enjoy the rush of pain so damnably much. Well and so, Renata had cast me aside like a broken toy that no longer entertained. I was no longer her plaything, no longer the Queen’s pet…

“Epiphany,” Vasco said calling me back from the dark place of my emotions. “You must do this for yourself.”

“Get out,” I said. “Let me dress.”

“I do not desire you, colombina. You may dress in front of me.” He sat on the side of my bed with a small flourish, making himself at home.

My brows went up. “We are not one another’s type, Vasco. I know this.” I paused and added, “Yet, I also know that you want an excuse to see what is in my closet.”

Vasco’s eyes widened. I think he tried for a look of innocence, but all he managed to do was show off the brilliant blue of his irises. The Gods themselves must have personally declared that his eyes would be the blue of the clearest ocean. Poseidon, perhaps.

“Pity, pity.” He pouted a little too pretentiously. “I do look dashing in women’s clothing.”

The corner of my mouth twitched from the effort it took not to laugh. There was more than one reason Vasco and I got along.

“Damn you,” I said, laughing, “get out.”

He made it very difficult to succumb to a dark and brooding mood.

I blinked and he was suddenly on his feet. “It wouldn’t hurt to dress to kill.”

This time, there was something almost vicious in his smile.

Was it vicious or vindictive? I couldn’t tell. Maybe it was both.

“Thank you, Vasco.” I nodded in the direction of the door.

He gave a sweeping bow. “I will await you in the hall.”

I stood there for several moments, feeling the pangs of hunger, feeling the dread unraveling like some great basilisk in the pit of my stomach.

I relaxed, putting my forehead against the closet door. Vasco had said I’d known this night would come, and I had. I knew that one night she would call me to stand before her. I knew that this night would come, that I would be forced to either conquer the challenges ahead of me or be conquered by them. I would fail and remain an Underling for eternity, or I would rise above and possibly, just possibly, get a little respect from the rest of the clan. The newest vampires, most of whom were Americanized like me, were condemned to be someone’s dog for two hundred years, even if they came into their powers early. Those were the rules. Thankfully, being “undead” for two hundred years taught one a measure of patience.

The question I would be forced to answer was: In the past two hundred years, had I gained enough power to overcome whatever challenges lay ahead? Was empathy a power strong enough? I should have been happy. I should have felt eager to jump at the chance to prove myself, to become something greater than what I’d been for the past two hundred years, but that dread began flicking its little forked tongue in my ear.

If I became an Elder, I would sit with her again. Mayhap, not so close as I once had. I would not kneel like a loyal bitch beside her throne.

I would have a small throne of my own, but I would always have to see her.

So be it.

In all the years that Vasco had sheltered and protected me from the cruelty of the other Elders, he could not save me from this. Two hundred years as an Underling, as being treated as a common vampiric whelp, and I feared I was starting to believe it.

I wrapped my palm around the doorknob. If I could run away, far away…would I?

I searched inside myself for the answer.

No.

If there was one truth to my damned existence it was that being someone’s bitch for two hundred years was getting old. One cannot constantly live in the fear of potentialities. There comes a time when you realize it is not so much fear that you have to conquer, but the self from which it springs.

Chapter Two

Having experienced my own death, you would think I wouldn’t be afraid of anything. Yet, there are certain emotions and instincts that are not so easily erased from the mind, immortal or no.

I wore red, red like freshly spilled blood. There was a long strand of white lace that crisscrossed up the front of my torso, tied securely, holding the dress closed. Vasco was just outside my door, leaning against the stone walls of the hallway as if it was all oh-so-boring to him. A smirk crooked the corner of his mouth.

I held my arms out with my palms up and did a little turn. “Well?”

“Hmm,” he murmured, “you’re going to wear a dress?”

I pulled the skirt of the dress up to reveal the white leggings tucked into my knee-high boots. “I am wearing pants underneath, Vasco.”

“Ah, well,” he said, “that makes it a bit more practical.”

The look in his face changed.

I tilted my head. “What? What’s the look for?”

“Colombina, I have to check you.”

“Check me for what?”

“Weapons.”

I laughed. “Oh. Good grief! Where in the world would I hide a weapon in this dress?”

He shrugged. “It’s mandatory. Turn, face the wall, legs spread…”

Vasco’s mouth erupted in a fierce grin.

“I bet that’s the first time you’ve ever said that to a woman.”

I did what he asked. I turned, faced the wall, and placed my feet evenly spaced. “Get it over with.”

Vasco glided forward. He didn’t take his time about it. If I had been a male, and a pretty male at that, his hands might’ve lingered. Fortunately, they didn’t. It wasn’t personal. Vasco might not have liked women, but I did and I didn’t like men touching me just as much as Vasco didn’t like having to touch a woman. We were on the same page in that book. His hands trailed the curves of my torso, down my legs, sweeping inside my skirt.

His hands were between my knees when I knew he’d felt my body tense in discomfort.

“Colombina, be thankful that it is I doing this and not one of the others…”

I rolled my neck, forcing myself to relax as his hands continued their upward sweep. “I am thankful.”

He did a series of quick pats near my inner thighs. I was grateful it was Vasco. I didn’t trust one of the other Elders to touch me. Who knew what kind of liberties they’d try to take? It’s a shame sometimes that we try to be so civil. There were a few Elders that I wouldn’t mind driving a sword through.

I felt more than saw Vasco stand. “Turn.”

“Wondrous,” I said, turning. He was going to pat down my front.

I felt his hands gliding over my stomach, a second before I realized his hands were hovering above my breasts. It appeared as though he wasn’t sure what to do.

I started laughing.

“They don’t bite, Vasco.”

I leaned forward, wiggled a little to get the material to give, and then held my breasts up. I didn’t flash him, just showed him that there was nothing hiding in my cleavage. “See, no dagger. No shotgun. No wooden stakes.” It was my turn to grin. “Call me skeptical, but I don’t think an AK Forty-seven would fit in there.”

“Epiphany, you are being cruel and have been reading too much for your own good.” He crossed his arms defensively over his chest.

“Perhaps I have been reading too much,” I said, “but I am not being cruel. I just think it’s amusing, is all. You should be thankful that I’m not a lover of men, or one of the female Elders that wouldn’t hesitate to try and take liberties.”

“They would not dare,” he said in voice gone cold and dark. His tone was cold enough to drain the heat out of the sun.

I went still.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I shouldn’t have teased you.”

“No, you should not have. I am just thankful I do not have to touch them.” He actually shuddered.

“If I hadn’t teased you, you would’ve forced yourself to check and make sure I wasn’t hiding anything. Which is why I did what I did. Sorry, Vasco, but neither one of us wants you to feel me up.”

“For that,” he said jokingly, “I might praise some form of Divinity.”

I made a little “hmph” noise in my throat. Vasco didn’t really believe in anything, to my knowledge. I wasn’t sure what I believed. Oh, I believed in some form of Divinity, in some kind of Divine. The Big Bang theory really didn’t explain how I was capable of dying every single dawn and waking the following night.

He turned and looked down the torch lit hallway as if someone were talking to him from the other end of it. I knew there was no one there. It was just Vasco and I.

“We need to go.”

“Vasco,” I said trying to disguise the uncertainty in my voice with blankness, “what are the challenges?”

His hand lifted as he thoughtfully touched one of his tiny braids. “Epiphany, I cannot tell you. Our Queen has not given me permission.”

“Do you think I will succeed?”

He shook his head. “I do not know.” His hand touched my shoulder. “I wish that I could offer you some words of comfort, colombina, I really do.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “I know.”

I started walking down the hallway. I didn’t have to look back over my shoulder to know that Vasco was there. I may not succeed, but one thing was sure. I needed to feed, and soon. We walked in silence, following the lit torches that led to the banquet hall. A spill of lamplight, much brighter than the torches, flooded out from the double doors that were held open by one of the lesser vampires. His long blond hair hid his face from our view. I bowed my head in acknowledgement as Vasco and I entered the room and found a seat among the tables.

It was a large room, with several rectangular tables in the area closest to the doors. The cloth on the table was black. I did not know if the black was chosen because it gave the room a dreary feel, or because blood doesn’t show very much. There were wine glasses placed neatly at the end of black placemats.

Renata was not here. Thankfully, she did not feed with the rest of the clan. Vasco chose a seat and I followed. I felt the Elders watching from their segregated table. He had chosen a spot away from everyone else. No doubt, the Elders were not happy with his decision. I sat beside him. There was a small flamed heater built into the table, as there was no electricity within the Sotto. Running electricity underground wasn’t a good way to stay unnoticed by the humans that surrounded you above ground.

The nearest city was Bolivar. Though most of us had not seen it. We stuck to wooded areas, living in underground tunnels and chambers that were made centuries ago by mortal slaves.

When the beginning of our kind spread out across America, they saw it necessary to establish kingdoms where we could live in secrecy but at the same time find sustenance. It was necessary for us to reside where mortals could not find us. This was why we executed Il Deboli. Their non-allegiance and solitary ways often ended up drawing attention to our world and existence. It was a measure of precaution for the sake of our kind.

Why did we not live openly? There were a few vampires throughout our history that had been brave enough to step out of the shadows. Those that did so were met with resistance and persecution. In England, before the rise of modern medicine, some humans considered the consumption to be a form of vampirism and persecuted those that were only ill. That was a bit of irony. The humans waged their holy wars and hunted any vampire brave or foolish enough to attempt life above ground, as well as innocents, until the belief in our existence faded entirely and we became nothing more than the whisperings of folklore.

Even now, in this modern day, too many humans were quick to hate and condemn that which they feared and did not understand. I did not have to be an active participant in their society to perceive as much.

For a couple of years after I was made, we had stayed in the Sotto in Devonshire. It wasn’t until Renata decided to relocate the entirety of the Rosso Lussuria that we made the long and troublesome journey to America.

Vasco smiled and reached across the table for the earthenware pitcher that was set off to the side of the heater. “The elixir of life,” he said, “still fresh from the Donatore’s veins.”

“It seems to grow richer with the centuries. Perhaps we are feeding the Donatore better?” The taste was ruby gold in my mouth, and I could see Vasco thinking the same thing as we sipped in silence.

“Perhaps. Or maybe the humans are healthier before they come below.” Vasco shrugged, clearly unconcerned with how our dinner came to be.

The Donatore were humans that lived among the Rosso Lussuria, though they had their own separate quarters and were rarely seen.

The Rosso Lussuria and Donatore had an agreement dating back thousands of years. They were willing victims, consenting to feed our kind in exchange for certain powers of their own. There was a way to prolong mortality, to give the humans a taste of our strength and heightened senses without actually killing them and bringing them over. Humans afraid of death, or humans who craved power, were the ones who stayed with us.

A drop of vampire’s blood to a human was a powerful thing. It made the Donatore stronger, faster, immune to illness and disease, and harder to kill than other humans. They were not as gifted as true vampires, but with each month that their contract was fulfilled and their duties served, a drop of our blood was given in exchange for theirs. If one of the Donatore were to break the agreement, he would be condemning himself to death, for without our blood, most of them were old enough that their youth would fade and they would die quickly. I, who had once been the Queen’s pet, knew this, for I had seen both parties extract their payment.

The Donatore were not our only blood source. Each clan had an elite group of hunters respectively known as the Cacciatori. It was not only their fellow mortals that humans should fear when wandering unaccompanied during the night. Many years ago, parents told their children stories of our kind. Though the stories might vary, from depicting the Cacciatori as a roving hoard of demons to depicting them as the dark and magical figures of the Wild Hunt, the stories had been used for centuries as a warning. Yet, as warnings often go, some were unheeded.

It was the Cacciatori that had taken me from the human world. The Cacciatori were the only vampires granted permission to venture outside of the Sotto. The humans they kidnapped were either slaughtered or given the chance to become Donatore. For safety reasons, the humans being considered Donatore were not offered an ultimatum between death or service. Given a choice between the two, the human would choose service out of the possibility of life and might turn against the Rosso Lussuria at some point or another—it was purely survival instinct to choose life. They were not informed that if they refused to serve, they would die.

But, neither were they made vampires. It was exceptionally rare for the Donatore to be brought over, as it was for a human to be brought over when taken from the human world. We thought of it as population control. Fewer vampires meant less competition for power and fewer to feed.

Vasco set about pouring us both another glass. When the crimson liquid met the brim of the glass, he handed it to me. My nostrils flared slightly.

The blood was rich, like something velvety on my tongue. I wasn’t aware that I’d swooned into Vasco until I felt his arm drape across my shoulders. I watched him for a moment and drained my glass. It would take a few glasses until the thirst was quenched, until the hunger was satiated.

I’d lost count of how many glasses I’d had. By the time Dante approached, I was still basking in the glow of having fed, gazing languidly at the room. He stopped in front of our table, crossing his arms over his chest. It occurred to me that the gesture wasn’t meant to be one of intimidation, but as Renata’s personal guard, intimidation was his forte.

“Epiphany,” he said, voice deep like something thick and sticky. His dyed red hair was cut short in the back and longer in the front. A fall of red side-swept bangs veiled his right eye in shadow. If it were me, I would’ve either grown the hair out so that it could’ve been tied back or lost the bangs. The bangs would ruin his peripheral vision if he was not careful in a fight. He wore a leather vest over a white frilly shirt with a bunch of lace at the neck and wrists. The shirt should’ve made him look softer, but the leather seriously clashed with it. His black leather pants had silver studs tracing the outline of his legs. At six foot five, Dante was the kind of guy that could snap me in half. I didn’t hate Dante, not like I despised a few of the Elders. I didn’t know Dante enough to hate him, but he was Renata’s bodyguard, and that alone made me wary of him.

“Epiphany?” he said again, this time with a questioning tone to his voice.

“What is it, Dante?”

“The Queen would like to see you.” He’d called her Queen instead of Mistress, which meant he was trying to be formal.

“Then,” Vasco said as he stood, “we will follow you.”

Dante shook his head. “She wishes to see Epiphany alone.”

“Well, damn,” I said casting a glance at Vasco.

Vasco gave me a sympathetic look. He knew I wouldn’t want to pay Renata a visit. It wasn’t just that I was scared of her. No, I had other, more complicated reasons.

Chapter Three

Dante might as well have been leading me into the inferno. The hate I kept trying to convince myself to feel was swept aside in a tide of nervousness and fear. I kept my arms crossed over my chest, trying to feel secure in myself and failing. I was too nervous. After fifty years of love and passion, the past one hundred and fifty seemed void and meaningless.

I followed Dante to a door at the back of the banquet hall. He held it open for me, and I entered the narrow room beyond. The small room led to one of the many winding hallways within the Sotto. Yet, it’d been years since I’d been in this area. The torches flickered as we passed to emerge into a long, narrow hall with two heavy double doors at the end of it.

Have mercy. If I didn’t think Dante would pick me up and haul me over his shoulder kicking and screaming into that room, I might’ve tried to slip away. Worse yet, I didn’t know what kind of reaction Renata would have. She was the Queen. I couldn’t exactly refuse to meet with her.

Dante placed three solid knocks on the door before opening it.

He held it open and waited. I didn’t move to step through the doorway.

“Enter, Epiphany,” he prompted me in that deep voice.

If he was trying to scare me, he was failing. There wasn’t anything in that moment that scared me more than stepping into that room. Dante was downright adorable compared to Renata, or maybe that’s just how I felt.

I stepped into the room.

“Epiphany,” her voice was so sweet, so soft, and so hauntingly melodic. It brought back too many memories, memories of her words in my ear, of her mouth sliding hot across my skin.

I hated her for it.

I went to my knees. “Mistress.”

It is strange to say that for a vampire of her age Renata rarely liked to be called Queen. In open court with all of the clan assembled, she did. Which is why, unless we were all being formal, most of us just called her Mistress. Though some of the Elders made a habit of calling her Padrona, the Italian equivalent.

The soft glow of candlelight sent shadows dancing across the floor. I kept my eyes lowered, watching as the edge of her shadow drew near. I felt her touch on the back of my neck and shivered.

“It has been too long,” she said.

Unsure what to say, I was silent.

“Epiphany,” she said, “look at me.”

I raised my head obediently.

I knew what I would see, knew what she wanted me to remember.

Her beauty made my heart ache. Her hair tumbled to her waist, rich and black, except when the light caught her tresses…

I shut my eyes to block out the sight of her, remembering the candlelight flickering on her hair, picking up the dim midnight blue highlights.

“Renata,” I whispered. “What do you want?”

“To see you.”

“Why?”

“Is it your place to question me, Epiphany?” Unlike Vasco, Renata had years of practice to perfect the English language.

I bowed my head again. “No.”

“No. Come here, Epiphany.”

I didn’t want to go to her. She moved to sit on the edge of her bed, watching me with a remarkable intensity. It wasn’t just her eyes that were fascinating. It was the force of her personality burning in them that called to me.

She put a hand out and I took it. Her skin was warm as she twined her tapered fingers with mine.

“It bothers you to touch me?”

I averted my eyes, not because I had to, but because it hurt too much to look at her. The memories sang through me, piercing my insides like sharp and invisible thorns. “It reminds me.”

I could tell she was smiling when she said, “Of something that transpired a hundred and fifty years ago.”

“I know.”

“And yet”—she trailed her other hand down the side of my body—“it feels as if it were just yesterday.”

It wasn’t unusual for Renata to tease me, but this time there was something different in it. She’d never actually touched me after sending me away. There were looks and words, but it was always so subtle. Other times that I’d been in her presence, there had always been someone with us, whether it was Dante or Dominique or an Elder.

Now, we were alone. For the first time in over a century, it was just her and me.

The realization unnerved me.

“Renata,” I said trying to pull my hand away from hers.

She didn’t like that. Her fingers dug roughly into my skin as her other arm hooked my back. She held me closer.

“Renata,” I said again trying to move back while she barely even broke a sweat holding me captive. She was older and was my Siren, which meant she was stronger.

“Stop,” I pleaded, vainly trying to wriggle free.

She laughed. “Oh, you do play the captive well, Epiphany. I’d nearly forgotten how well.” She gave another fierce jerk and I lost my balance. My hands caught her shoulders as she pulled me down into her lap. I used the grip I had on her shoulders to try to hold myself away from her.

She smiled brightly, her eyes lit with humor like the moon lending its light to the darkened sky.

“Epiphany,” she said grabbing a handful of my gown and inching it upward.

My heart was pounding. One of the side effects of being well fed was that my heart was about to beat its way out of my chest like some trapped and angry bird. That bird was currently hitting my ribcage. I gave up trying to hide the panic.

Renata licked her pale lips, eyeing the tiny drum in my neck.

Distantly, I heard the whimper that fell from my mouth. It sounded weak and pathetic, but I didn’t care…that look on her face.

It had been so long since she’d looked at me like that, since I’d felt the line of her heat so close.

I shut my eyes, digging nails in where my hands clutched her shoulders.

Renata gave a little satisfied moan that ended with a laugh.

“Surely”—I pushed on her shoulders—“this isn’t a part of your test.”

“If it is?” Renata asked, pinning me to her with that one long arm. “Do you think you are strong enough to resist or evade me, Epiphany?”

Her hand swept between my legs, caressing the inside of my thigh with a touch as soft as a feather’s brush.

“Answer me, Epiphany.” Her breath was warm against the side of my neck.

I couldn’t move. I froze. If I moved, it wouldn’t be away from her. If I moved, I would’ve offered my neck to her. She was my creator, my Queen, and had once been my lover. It was an intimate thing, the sharing of blood between vampires, and I had spent too many years knowing the joy of her mind and body to be able to forget it.

“No.”

She laid a gentle kiss upon the pulse in my throat.

The muscles in my body clenched tight as I battled a century’s worth of memories.

“You couldn’t, could you?” She squeezed my thigh over the leggings, whispering in my ear, “So tense…more tightly strung than an archer’s bow.”

“Why are you doing this?”

Renata’s distracting hand moved to my hip, her thumb playing over the jagged bone. “I have missed you.”

“You should’ve thought of that before you cast me out.” I glared at her, at her damned beautiful face.

For a moment, I thought I had startled her, that I’d shocked her by having the courage to say such a thing. It wasn’t courage. In part, it was stupidity, but mostly, it was anger. The anger tainted everything, all my qualms, all my worries. Any other emotions I had were suddenly paper thrown in a fire.

Date: 2015-12-24; view: 810