The Amazon
Page 30
The stage was already clear from the opera. It sat four feet above the house floor; the orchestra pit sank another four along the front. Rossi walked to the front in a rapid pace and didn’t stop until he stood at center-stage. He opened his spirit to the room and breathed in air pungent with evil.
“We know each other, you and I,” Rossi called as if he delivered a soliloquy. “You have waited years to meet me face to face.” The words echoed in perfect acoustics with disturbing silence. “Or, have you lost your courage, down here in your pitiful hiding place with your little Indian playthings?”
The silence thickened, palpable, and heavy on his ears. “Fine,” Rossi said and turned to leave. “Turpio would vomit in shame.”
At his first step, Rossi heard a single flap of broad wings. High in the dark space, it seemed a shadow shifted, then another. A bat, bearing a man’s visage, soared by him, nearly striking his shoulder. The creature lit and stretched upward, its wings wrapped around its torso. In another second the wings opened. They seemed nearly as wide as the stage then disappeared into the shoulders of a gleaming white creature. Every time Rossi faced one, he marveled at its beauty for the first moment, until the stink of death permeated the air, reeking of depravity.
“A pitiful creature like you cannot speak of Turpio,” Ejup said in a voice both golden and guttural. “How can you know of something you have not seen?”
“I have not seen you,” Rossi replied. “Yet, I know of the evil you spread with every flap of your cursed wings, Mikić. It’s time to end your reign of terror, just as Giuseppe squashed Turpio’s decrepit heart.”
Rossi pulled the golden crucifix from his coat pocket and strode toward the creature. Ejup roared and took to the air. He soared into the darkness of the yawning theatre.
“Coward!” Rossi called after him. “You curse my weakness, yet you run from me like a little girl? Vampires are useless.” He spat on the stage floor, held up the crucifix, and bellowed, “You are all old women crying in the night!”
The roar like that of a serpent came from overhead as Ejup swooped down toward Rossi. He transformed into a man while still a few feet off the floor. It seemed he ran on the air toward his foe, his eyes blazing with fire from hell.
“Now,” called Rossi. André had waited hours in the control booth to flood the theatre with light. Spotlights seared in white brilliance at center-stage where he stood.
The vampire screamed and covered his face in terror. Rossi drew André’s pistol and began firing away at the creature. Bullets crashed through his body, leaving gaping holes which instantly began to heal. Rossi emptied one clip. Every shot had struck its mark. Mikić knelt on the wooden floor as his body recovered, a putrid mass of blood and gore.
Rossi opened fire with another clip as André ran up the side stairs. “Look out,” he shouted.
Itotia swooped down from the darkness, her god-like breasts now coated with fur. Before she could attack, André grabbed her by the legs and threw her forward toward the main floor. His force was so great she landed on her back in the orchestra pit, momentarily stunned.
“Hold him down,” Rossi shouted.
André grabbed Ejup by the shoulders and forced him back to the floor. A stake was quickly in Rossi’s left hand; the silver mallet in the right. “In the name of the Archangel Uriel and all that is good, I dispatch you to hell, Ejup Mikić.” His right hand reached back to gather its force.
“Behind you,” André screamed.
The strike was so fast and clean, he saw his blood dripping from the shining tip before he felt any pain. Giuseppe Rossi’s medieval rapier had struck Gianni in the back and penetrated his thorax. The point passed below his collarbone and left his body through the muscle in his chest. He never felt it slip from the jeweled scabbard clipped to his belt when Ana took it. Rossi dropped his weapons and sank back on his knees, staring at the scarlet droplets dripping to the floor.
Ana walked around Rossi to stand next to Ejup, licking Gianni’s blood from her hand with the tip of her tongue. Most of his wounds had already healed and gone was the terror that had flooded his eyes when the mallet was high in the air. Now, they glowed in fury and André could no longer restrain him. With one sweep of his arm, he lifted the giant man and tossed him into the orchestra pit.
The vampire staggered to his feet. “Now I will spill your blood, Rossi, just as I spilled Giuseppe’s,” he screamed. “Just as I will kill any product of your vile seed.” Ejup’s fangs gleamed in the spotlights. He took one step toward Rossi, who had collapsed on his knees to the wooden stage.
“Leave him!” Ana shouted. Her voice stopped the vampire in his tracks.
Ejup eyes flared at her. “Do not tell me what to do,” he growled. “I am the lord of your world. I kill whom I wish.”
She stepped between the two men, her hands on her hips; a visage of strength. “I said leave him,” she roared. Her voice echoed through the theatre, at the same time both evil and feminine. The two stood staring at each other for interminable seconds.
Ejup relaxed and unleashed a malevolent grin. He let loose a laugh from the belly of hell that raised every hair on Gianni’s arms. “Until another day then, Rossi,” he spat.
In a flash, he folded himself up and flew across the theatre, out the main entrance into the sultry tropical night.
“Now, I owe you nothing,” Ana snapped in Rossi’s direction. Her eyes flashed their brilliant ruby red and she blinked in contempt. “And, the UWF no longer owns me.”
Ana joined Itotia and they followed the example of their master, their wings beating gently in the darkness.
EPILOGUE
HOMELAND
Ana was first to descend the short stairs to the frozen tarmac in Lisbon. The jet that once had been Rossi’s now gleamed under a fresh coat of piano-black paint. They’d left the rain forest of 95º to be assaulted by snow driven gusts off the Atlantic. Ejup breathed in deeply, seemingly invigorated by the extreme change. Itotia shivered in complete incomprehensible misery.
The three would draw looks anywhere, no matter how they were dressed. Ejup stood nearly six-feet-six; Itotia five-foot-ten; Ana only five-foot-three. The tailor in Manaus had taken three days to produce clothing for the pair who hadn’t worn even socks for half of a millennium. Their broad feet refused to accept shoes so they wore leather sandals much like a Roman soldier’s.
A taxi took them through the one city Ana could call home. “Turn here,” Ejup snapped to the driver. “The hotel is just up this street.”
Ana spun to give him a look of incredulity. “How do you know Lisbon?” she asked.
“I love your city, Ana Pavlović,” he said with a smirk. “And, you have much to learn about me.”
In the hotel, the three stretched out on a king-sized bed. Itotia complained that it wasn’t half as comfortable as her hammock in the forest. As had become their custom, Ejup serviced them both then slept. As his snoring leveled out, the women finished their day in each other’s arms.
Late the next afternoon the Gulfstream landed in Belgrade which was covered in thick, heavy snow. A long, black Mercedes S500 waited for them on the just-plowed runway. Its driver stuffed a flask into his pocket which had kept him defrosted on the freezing tarmac. Ejup rushed directly to the chauffeur who appeared to know him well. Ana followed, but quickly realized she was alone in the cold. Itotia had disappeared from the doorway of the Gulfstream. Ana hustled back to find her seated inside the jet with her arms and legs crossed.
“No way,” she snapped. “You’re crazy if you think I’m going out in that mess. Ejup can turn this thing around and take me back to my river.”
“There is no more village, Tí,” Ana replied. “No more Icamiabas. No more El Dorado.”
“I don’t need a tribe or a village or his wretched gold,” she growled. “The forest and the river have life enough for us all.” Her face reminded Ana of a pouting child who had no intention of visiting a grumpy aunt.
Ana put an arm around the Amaz
on queen whose body seemed as cold as the tarmac. “We’ll make a new life together, Itotia,” she said. “For us, and our babies.”
Itotia’s haughty, undead expression warmed just the slightest bit at the words. Ana put her hand softly on Itotia’s belly where a new life fought against the body of death in which it grew.
“This is my land. The land of my grandmother’s grandmothers. I cannot say it’s better than yours, but I’ll promise you one thing.” Ana leaned her face forward, her cheek brushed up against Itotia’s and her lips pressed close to her ear. “The hunt will be just as good.”
She stood and extended her hand toward the grumbling Amazon. Itotia’s face slowly softened and she stood to join Ana just as a voice roared from outside.
“Get out here, you two,” Ejup growled. “I’m freezing my ass off.”
The limousine glided through the early morning streets, silent from the blanket of snow. The city was the one where Ana spent most of her childhood and each corner was alive with memories. She didn’t remember, however, the tiny park where the Mercedes pulled off the city streets and entered a caretaker’s carriage house. Two massive iron doors were already open which swallowed the vehicle like a cat gulping down a mouse. They cruised through a succession of ancient tunnels only inches wider than the vehicle. When the less-than-sober driver finally guided them to fresh air, the broad expanse of a castle courtyard greeted them, covered with a shimmering, Angora-like blanket of snow.
Ejup jumped from the car and strode directly to a pair of medieval oak doors set into the stone in an elaborate sculpted frame. Chiseled in stone over the double doors were the words, “Conventus Aquorum Vitae.” The walls were ancient but perfectly preserved. Snow capped each turret and roof. Ejup struck the wooden doors four times. He repeated the cadence four times. The door swung open quietly on massive oiled hinges.
A woman appeared, tall and elegant with hair to the small of her back. She was dressed in a nun’s habit but not in the ordinary style. In place of starched white was scarlet, bordered with ornate blood-red embroidery. Around her neck hung a thick chain dangling an inverted, broken Serbian cross, all cast in solid gold. Ejup returned her smile with two kisses on each cheek. He pulled Itotia and Ana inside and said, “We are home.”
Coming Soon:
Homeland
Book Two in the Ancient Malice Series
About the Authors
Bob Nailer:
Bob Nailor is an author of over a dozen books and included in another dozen of various genres including self-help writing, horror, fantasy, mystery, adventure and Amish Christian. He lives with his wife in NW Ohio on a ranch snuggled into a wooded acre. He enjoys traveling/camping with his RV, gardening, cooking, writing, reading, and the big time-spender, spoiling the grandchildren and great-grandchildren.
For more information, please vitis: BobNailer.com
Jack Franklin:
Jack Franklin has spent the past twenty-five years in international business, living and working on four continents. As an engineer, he has tackled social and technical complexities in the US, Europe, South America and Asia. Jack`s passion for a good story has resulted in a list of novels in several genre. He and his wife currently divide their time between homes in Brazil and India.
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The Amazon
Book One: The Ancient Malice Series
Bob Nailer – Jack Franklin
Copyright 2021 © Bob Nailer-Jack Franklin
All Rights Reserved
No copy, electronic or otherwise, in whole or in part may be reproduced, copied, sold in physical or digital format without expressed written permission from the publisher, pursuant to legal statute 17 U.S.C. § 504 of the U.S. Code, punishable up to $250,000 in fines and/or five years imprisonment under 17 U.S.C. § 412.