The Cursed by Blood Saga

by Marianne Morea

  “Are you coming in, Ms. Markham, or are you practicing to be a door stop?” Cox queried, not bothering to look up while he finished splinting the gardener’s forearm and tying off his sling. “There, I think that will do nicely.”

  Grabbing a brown apothecary-style bottle from the table, Cox uncorked the top. His nostrils flared slightly as he ran the edge of the glass vial beneath his nose. With an eyedropper, he extracted a reddish-brown liquid, holding it up to the light. At first Trina thought it was iodine or mercurochrome, but when he squeezed a few droplets onto a white tablet and gave it to the gardener to swallow, she wasn’t so sure.

  Firing off a string of instructions in what sounded like Russian, Cox sent the man on his way. With a sigh, he wiped his hands on a towel and turned toward Trina, a frown lining his mouth at her stained clothing. “I see you’re not wearing what was sent up for you. Didn’t the garments fit properly?”

  “I wouldn’t know. I haven’t tried them on. I never really cared for trash couture, and since I’m not suffering from Stockholm syndrome like everyone else around here, I won’t be participating in El Señor’s little game.” Trina walked over to the table. Picking up one of the extra splints, she played with it between her fingers.

  “Stockholm syndrome. An interesting, if not exactly accurate, diagnosis. You can choose to play this any way you wish. However, I suggest you change your mind and wear what was given you. You cannot meet the master looking like a refugee from a downtown flea market. Trust me, Ms. Markham, the last thing you want to do is insult Señor Mendoza, game participant or not.”

  Trina didn’t comment. She just looked at the butler, not giving him an inch.

  Cox ignored her stare, continuing in his most Remains of the Day manner. “But in the meantime, I’m glad to see you survived the night. Can I get you anything? I’m sure you must be famished by now.”

  Trina’s eyebrows shot up. “Survived? Well, that’s reassuring. Thanks for the vote of confidence I guess…and yes, I am a little hungry, if that’s all right with you.” Sitting down, she still played with the splint, looking at the other first aid bits and pieces.

  “Excellent,” he turned, snapping his fingers. “Mary, will you be so kind as to prepare a plate for our guest?”

  “Cox?” Trina glanced up.

  “Yes, Ms. Markham?”

  “That boy…his shoulder looked pretty bad. Don’t you think you should have taken him to the hospital, or at the very least called a doctor?”

  Lips pursed, he waited a moment before answering. “No, miss. In the seventy-five years I’ve been in service here, I’ve had to learn many skills. I endeavor every day to make myself indispensable to Señor Mendoza and his household because the alternative is unimaginable. I vowed many years ago that was never to become my fate. You’re an astute young woman, so I’m sure no further explanation is necessary.”

  Mary put a plate of food in front of Trina. The woman actually curtsied, bobbing once before going back to her chores. “This place is like something time forgot,” Trina said. “You do realize this is the twenty-first century. No one curtsies anymore, at least outside of Buckingham Palace.”

  Cox frowned. “I don’t think you’re in a position to judge. In case you hadn’t noticed, this isn’t exactly a standard household. It might be healthier for you to keep your inside musings…inside.”

  Trina picked up a fork, but her eyes were on Cox as she considered his words. “Point taken and I apologize. So, you’ve been here for seventy-five years. That’s quite a long time, considering you don’t look a day over thirty.”

  The butler opened his mouth, but Trina waved him off. “There’s no need to explain. I know how it works. As you said, I’m a smart cookie, so it’s not like you’re spilling some deep, dark vampiric secret. Based on that, I suppose it’s a fair assumption it wasn’t iodine you dripped onto that pill?”

  A small smile curved at the corners of the butler’s mouth. “No, it wasn’t.”

  “Then why the tablet? What’s the purpose?”

  Straightening his vest and jacket, the butler sniffed. “It’s just how we do things. Staff isn’t easy to find, nor are they easy to keep—and not for very long, as you can imagine. I’m sure you’re acquainted with the healing quality of vampire blood when taken in small amounts. The tablets are simply generic aspirin. Nothing more than a vehicle to get my staff to take the blood. Otherwise…” His voice trailed off again.

  “I understand. You use it to heal them, so they won’t be considered…expendable.”

  “Exactly, Ms. Markham. Plus aspirin is a natural blood thinner, so the healing components get dispersed more quickly.”

  “I see.”

  Cox fixed a penetrating eye on Trina, his expression both questioning and sad. “Do you, Ms. Markham? Not everyone here suffers from delusion, or Stockholm syndrome, as you so casually accused. We do the best we can every day with the circumstances dealt us. My hands are tied for most things, but I do still have some compassion.”

  Trina stood, pushing the chair back abruptly. “If that’s true, then help me get out of here. Does your compassion go as far as that?”

  The butler’s eyes turned cold as the mask of his professional veneer fell back into place. “I’m sorry, Ms. Markham. Unfortunately, I cannot help you with that request. If it is the outdoors you crave, please avail yourself of the grounds. They are beautiful this time of year, and I’m sure Mr. Maurizio has arranged for someone to accompany you. Do take advantage of the fresh air and sunshine while you have the opportunity. Especially since El Señor so enjoys the smell of it on the skin.”

  Cox turned on his heel, leaving Trina standing alone in the kitchen with her mouth open. Compassion, my ass! No one here was going to risk themselves helping her. They were all too afraid, not that she blamed them. Chewing on her lip, she looked at the clock above the stove. Time—she needed time to think.

  Chapter Fourteen

  It was just before sunset as Carlos walked through the tourist-filled streets of Valencia. The temperature had been warm, and the beaches crowded. The sidewalks teemed with people rushing back to their hotels, their arms laden with the day’s purchases, and their faces tanned and brimming with anticipation for whatever the night would bring. It was high season, and the third largest city in Spain was overflowing with life.

  So many things remained the same, yet so much had changed. The twists and turns of the medieval town were still dotted with narrow doorways and hidden courtyards, yet trendy boutiques intertwined with neighborhood shops gave them a cosmopolitan flair. Street vendors still gathered in market-day style, but alongside traditional food and wares were items manufactured in places like China.

  Amazingly, the oldest part of the city had been encircled by a great loop of the Río Turia. Heartened that the ancient stone bridges had been preserved, Carlos laughed to himself at the now-dried riverbed. After centuries of fighting floods and constant rebuilding, Valencia had finally made peace with the river, now home to elegant landscaped gardens and footpaths.

  He meandered through the maze-like streets, finding ghosts everywhere. Reflections of people and time past—no more than whispers on the breeze they smiled, as if to say, “No pierda la esperanza”—don’t lose hope—then vanished into the twilight.

  It was well after dark when he crossed into downtown. The city’s nightlife was waking up, and the scent of food and fun permeated the air. Like any other large, vibrant city, Valencia was a Mecca for the vampire. Its bars and clubs were a calling card to others of his kind, but there was only one immortal Carlos was interested in seeing.

  Dominic had settled in Italy in the 1950s, forgoing his native France for the splendor of the eternal city, and its rebirth after World War II. These days he rarely left his villa, content to live out his days quietly above the throng that was twenty-first-century Rome. However, at Carlos’s insistence, he agreed to leave his refuge.

  Carlos had been in Spain for almost two weeks. Starting in Cadiz, he wo
rked his way up the Costa de la Luz to Valencia, retracing his own personal history. Since his last waking dawn over the Mediterranean, he hadn’t returned. Memories best left behind made this the last place on Earth he wanted to roam.

  There were ghosts in Cadiz as well—raw specters of the horrors that changed him, and shades of the life he could have lived. However, regret was a shackle he’d learned to cast off a long time ago. Dominic taught him that.

  The reclusive vampire would be waiting for him, his rented villa transformed into a sanctuary worthy of the gods. Dominic was old school, to say the least. He was twice as old as Carlos, yet he refused to venture out in even the weakest of daylight. For him, the late afternoon sun was as safe as moonlight, but no matter now. The sun had set hours ago, and it was time. Carlos had come full circle. Just as he needed Dominic years before, he needed his old friend once again.

  Carlos’s hotel was ahead on the corner. A former palace, it once belonged to the Duke of Cardona, but had since been transformed into luxury accommodations. The valet had his Mercedes ready and waiting for him as he approached.

  “Will you be returning late this evening, Señor Salazar?” the valet asked, handing Carlos the keys.

  “Perhaps, Juan. But who can say when the moon promises to be so beautiful?” Carlos answered with a wink. Sliding into the driver’s seat, he put the key in the ignition and quickly checked his mirrors before pulling out into the street. Honking once, he waved and turned at the end of the street toward the A-7 highway and the coast.

  Dominic’s villa was in Castellón de la Plana on the Costa del Azahar, just a short drive north from Valencia. The weather was fine, and Carlos drove with the windows down. A soft Mediterranean breeze made the air taste of home.

  The moon rose, its crescent shape casting just enough glow onto the water for it to shimmer, the sound of the waves against the shore like a lullaby in Carlos’s ears. Listening to the soothing sounds, his car was the only one on the road for miles.

  Before long, he approached the villa. Pulling up to the gates, he could see the grand hacienda-style house ahead, its facade entwined with beautiful flowering vines. The gate swung open, and Carlos drove in.

  Pulling around the circular front, he parked. The house was a beautiful two-story building with a low-slung red-tiled roof and a wide veranda. Opening the car door, his head swung around as two German shepherds bounded up to the car before he could even step foot on the ground.

  “Max! Fritz! Sit!” a voice called from the tall cypress trees off the edge of the path.

  Carlos grinned. Both dogs dropped to their hindquarters immediately. Getting out of the car, he leaned against the hood, waiting along with the dogs for their master to emerge from the hedgerow.

  “Well, leave it to you to have the dogs greet me before you. Don’t you ever travel without them?” Carlos shouted across the driveway.

  Dominic came into view, walking through the arbor like a 1920s heartthrob. “I don’t travel, but then again, you never would take no for an answer. Tell me, what’s so important that we had to have this little reunion here? My villa in Rome is so much more convenient.”

  “Convenient for you. And you know why, or else you wouldn’t have come.”

  Dominic hmmphed, coming up next to the car. “You look awful. When’s the last time you fed?” he asked, looking at his friend’s careworn face.

  Carlos shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, really. You know at our age it’s no longer a regimented requirement.”

  “Our age? Last, I checked you were still the young blood here. Nonetheless, you look terrible. You need to feed before we talk. I have a feeling you’re going to need all the strength you can get.” Pulling a cigar from his pocket, Dominic snipped the end and put it between his teeth. Lighting it, he puffed a few times till the end glowed red. “Go on, Carlos. There’s fresh blood in the kitchen, Iberian ibex. I’ll bet you haven’t had that in a while. I’m going to finish this on the back veranda, and you can join me there after you’ve had your fill.”

  “No, Dominic. I’m fine. I’ll feed later. Right now, I’d rather talk if you don’t mind. So much has happened.”

  “Come then, leave your bags. Charmaine will see to them so we can talk.” Clapping Carlos on the shoulder, Dominic led him around to the back of the house, speaking in rapid French to the maid as they passed.

  “Cheese? You asked her for wine and cheese? Isn’t that going to make you ill?” Carlos asked with a raised eyebrow.

  Dominic smirked. “Probably,” he admitted with a nod. “But the smell and the feel of it on my tongue bring me right back to my mother’s kitchen in Provence. Like you, I have a taste for memories.”

  A large smile cracked across Carlos’s face. Dominic knew him well. “Rum. You’re right; I suppose I do at that.”

  The two walked around to the back of the house. A large white veranda spread out from the house like a carpet of sun-bleached stone. A striped canvas canopy billowed out above it, tied to beautifully curved columns. The view of the ocean was spectacular, and the sound as it crashed against the rocks was like a symphony in the night air.

  They sat in deck chairs and Carlos inhaled deeply. “It’s so beautiful here. Don’t you miss the ocean breezes cooped up on that hill in Rome?”

  Dominic puffed on his cigar. “Rome has its own special breezes, my friend. Why do you think so many senators lived in the Palatine?”

  “Hmmph. But that was two millennia ago.”

  Before Dominic could answer, Charmaine glided silently onto the veranda, her tray covered in cheese and fruit, and a bottle of red wine and two glasses. She placed it on the glass table to the front of the men’s chairs.

  His retort forgotten, Dominic took the bottle from the tray. “Thank you, Charmaine. Why don’t you retire for the evening, my dear? You’ve done quite enough, and I’m sure Carlos and I can manage reasonably well on our own.” With a quick pop, he uncorked the wine, giving her a wink.

  “Very good, sir,” she murmured, and left without saying another word. Dominic’s eyes followed her as she passed through the open French doors.

  The longing in his friend’s eyes was apparent, and Carlos watched as he stared at the empty doorway. “You’ve got to stop torturing yourself. You’ve been in love with her for years, and don’t deny it. You know it and she knows it, so why haven’t you changed her?”

  “For the same reasons you never changed anyone who wasn’t near death. It’s our rule, Carlos. The way we have chosen to live out this interminable existence. This isn’t a life to choose when one has other choices. It’s for the same reason you refused to change Isabel.”

  Carlos was silent for a moment. “I didn’t change Isabel for many reasons, not the least of which being I didn’t know how.” He looked over at Dominic pouring the wine. “She lived, you know.”

  “I know.”

  “No, I mean lived, lived…as in she just died a few weeks ago. It was incredible. Suddenly her voice was in my head, reminding me of my promise to her. I swear, at first I thought I was delusional. But it’s true.”

  “I know,” he answered, handing Carlos a glass.

  “You know?”

  “Yes…I’ve always known.”

  “What do you mean, always? I know from Isa’s diaries that Jeffrey had an acquaintance with you, but that was two centuries ago. Are you telling me you knew her not only then, but now?”

  “Yes.”

  Carlos pushed himself up from the chair abruptly and walked to the railing. The breeze blew his hair back, and he breathed in its salty scent. Silently he looked out at the ocean, his thoughts in a whirl. Wheeling around he glared at his friend. “You knew where she was for all these years and never said a word. Why? Didn’t you think I would want to know? I’ve silently agonized over Isabel for centuries. Didn’t you think it might give me some peace of mind to know she was okay? That she was happy?”

  Dominic slowly cut himself a piece of cheese, using the knife to bring it to his lips. “Yes…an
d no,” he said, chewing thoughtfully. “I met Jeffrey before I met Isabel. But the moment I met her I could smell you on her.”

  Carlos snorted doubtfully.

  “I know it sounds farfetched, but Christ, Carlos, our whole existence sounds farfetched. I’m well aware that nearly twenty years had elapsed since you had given her your blood, but I swear the smell was as fresh and as potent as if you had just done the exchange.”

  Walking to the center of the patio, Carlos raised his hands in a wordless gesture. “How? It makes no sense. The marks we leave when we feed fade over time. We retain the trace, the blood’s signature, not humans.”

  “Don’t you recollect what happened that night?” Dominic asked softly.

  Carlos shot him a look. “How could I forget? That nightmare is forever etched into my soul.”

  Shaking his head, Dominic exhaled slowly. “No, Carlos, not the drama of that night. Remember the details. Focus on how the deed was done.”

  “All I remember is Jeffrey telling me that if a spark of life remained in Isa’s body, a little of my blood would heal her.”

  “A little of your blood.”

  Confused, Carlos ran his friend’s words over in his mind, but he still couldn’t make the connection. “I still don’t understand.”

  “Carlos, what happened when Isabel woke from her near-death sleep?”

  Carlos’s eyes flew open. His body tensed as memories flooded back. His eyes flew to Dominic’s and he saw the truth. Isabel had gulped his blood greedily, his own lust blooming red hot as she drank. He remembered it holding him in a paralyzed thrall until he connected it with what Robert had done. It was only then he pushed her away.

  Carlos paced, talking to himself in agitated whispers. “But Isabel was still human. I saw her with my own eyes just weeks ago. She dies in my arms.” His head hung to his chest, fear stilling his already quiet heart for what his ignorance might have caused.

  “Isabel was human, Carlos, as was Jeffrey. However, the amount of blood each had taken—Jeffrey from Robert, then Isabel from you—the two were lucky it didn’t force a conversion. What it did was prolong their life much longer than it normally would have if they had only taken a small amount. They were literally but a bite away from turning.” Dominic drained his glass. “Because of their saturated blood, Isabel and Jeffrey had quite a difficult time. The smell of their blood was an aphrodisiac, and it drew vampires everywhere. Even I was drawn to them, but because of my beliefs, I befriended them instead. I gave them my mark, layering it with yours to protect them.”