Dracula turned around to find Machiavelli. The young Florentine was gone.
Chapter 8
TUSCANY. THE NARROW
BACK STREETS OF FLORENCE.
JULY, 1489. THE SAME NIGHT.
Dracula growled under his breath. He looked up and down to try and track Machiavelli’s scent and then flew to the end of the alley. A woman walked over to him from a nearby tavern. As soon as he appeared there, she noticed him. Such a finely dressed gentleman was sure to have plenty of coin to spend.
She offered a flash of her thigh as she stepped up to him. “Are you looking for some company, signor?” she asked. “I could show you a very good time.”
He gazed down at her full cleavage. An hour or two with her was a prospect that had appeal. His body was taut after two quick feeds. Inside his breeches, his penis bulged with the fresh blood. He would need a release at some point soon.
The whore noticed it right away. “Oh my,” she gasped, rubbing her hand against it. “You can have it for free, if you so desire.”
She was a real distraction when he wanted to find the Florentine. With her in his way, he could not hope to pick up the young man’s trail.
The whore had meant what she said. With a little ale in her belly and on such a warm night, she felt more than a little frisky. The moment she noticed the size of his bulge, she ached to feel him inside her.
Pressing against him, she planted a light kiss on his neck. Nibbling on his earlobe, she whispered into his ear. “Free, and any way you want it.”
He pushed her back with a gentle prod from his palms. Right now, he did not want this, even though he knew she would keep good her promise.
She frowned at his rudeness. “Why did you do that? Are you so mighty that you can refuse me when I give myself to you, and ask for nothing in return?”
He ignored her question. Closing his eyes, he tried to pick up the sound of Machiavelli’s heartbeat.
“Well?” she asked, becoming even more irate with him.
It was as much as he could take. She was ruining any chance he had to track his quarry. He suddenly bared his fangs and hissed at her to try and scare her away. She recoiled in horror and, for a moment, she froze with fear and could not react. Then, putting her hands to her face, she screamed out loud.
He did not want the attention her scream was sure to bring. For now, Machiavelli would have to wait. He dived at the whore and, whisking her up in his arms, he lifted her high into the air.
The strength of his grip sucked all the air out of her. He rose above the tavern and laid her down on the sloped roof. Her head was in a spin at first. He allowed her a few moments to gather her senses. If she wanted it this bad, she could have it.
She looked up at him, nervous and unsure of the safety of her situation. Why did I not remain in the tavern? At least in there I was safe. It was greed. She liked the finer things. It showed in the clothes she wore and the clients she attracted.
“You should be careful what you wish for,” he said. “You never know what might come your way.”
The whore did not respond at first. She had still not come to terms with what she had seen. It was a sight most gruesome. The memory of it flashed before her eyes again, and she began to fear for her life. This man, if he was even a man, had lifted her thirty feet into the air. Now he had her all alone and she was at his mercy. He could do any manner of things to her. Looking into his penetrating green eyes, she sensed that he would.
He rubbed his hand over the outline of her breasts. The lightly corseted gown that she wore, was to his liking. The laced bows at the front revealed just enough to whet the appetite. They showed some, but hid much more. She had plenty there to hide, and he liked it.
She thought about what had attracted her to him. When she had seen it, she wanted him there and then. It was rare to see a specimen so fine on a man. She liked her work, but so often her clients had so little to offer, both in size and with their performance. Her first glimpse of him told her he was different. Here was a man who had a way with women. Knowing what she knew now, it made her afraid. She feared he was a demon. For sure, it would explain the size of his bulge.
His hand moved down over her tight stomach. With his knees, he pinned her legs flat to the roof. The sudden jolt hurt her groin. She bit her lip so as not to cry out too loud. The thought of angering him scared her even more.
He reached down and pulled her gown up over her knees. The warm night air touched against her exposed labia. A faint trickle from her last client oozed down over her perineum. He could smell it, but did not care.
“What are you?” she asked, after summoning the courage.
Dracula noticed she said what and not who. “When you met me, you thought I was your dream come true. Perhaps I am, or perhaps I am your worst nightmare.”
He stroked the inside of her thigh. The feel of his hand against her skin made her shiver. She turned her head to one side, unable to bear the sight of his face. His erection pressed against her through his clothing. She did not want it near her now. The mere thought of it, and him inside her, filled her with dread.
Her thoughts angered him, and he grabbed at the top of her gown. The laced corset shredded like rice paper in his hands. She had slept with many men to pay for these clothes. Please do not rip my gown, she thought silently. She fought to stifle a sob. A tear trickled from her right eye and rolled over the bridge of her nose, onto her opposite cheek.
“I shall reimburse you.”
He pulled it down over her shoulders all the way to her waist. Her full breasts fell free and bounced with the force of his actions. He paused and watched as her brown nipples stiffened to the cool breeze that eased over the rooftops. They looked beautiful to him, and their firmness hinted that she might not be as old as he first thought. She felt his erection throb against her. He intended to have her. There was no doubting it.
Her long dark hair and olive skin took him back to another time. It reminded him of a girl he once loved. She too had Italian lineage.
He tore her gown the rest of the way down. Leaving it in shreds against the rooftop beneath her, he pulled his breeches down to his knees to release his erection.
It bounced against her sex with a force that sent a shock right through her. Only then did she fully have an idea what she had gotten herself into. She feared what was to come and appealed to a better instinct he might have. “Please, do not. I know I am far too common for one like you.”
He ran his tongue along her neck. “The best kind,” she heard him whisper.
She gasped when he pressed against her opening. Oh my God. This cannot be. Not for a man. She glanced up at him, fearful of the look in his eyes. “Forgive me,” she begged. “If I offended you, then I must apologise. I meant you no disrespect. Please, My Lord, let me go.”
Her pleas held little sway with him now. The fresh blood that pumped through his veins dictated the urge within. He could smell her fear, and he liked it. It served only to increase his level of arousal.
He held both her hands behind her head, in his left. With his other hand, he toyed with her breasts. His fingertips traced the contours along her ribs to her waist. It made her skin crawl. He read her every thought, and her abhorrence made him even more determined to leave his mark on her. “You shall not forget me,” he vowed.
She gazed up at the dark sky, where a shooting star blazed through the heavens. For a moment, she wished she were on it. Then her eyes closed to wait for the inevitable.
He pushed hard into her, an action that virtually split her open. Her eyes and mouth opened wide. A scream built from the pit of her stomach, but stuck in her throat. Her breasts pressed against him as her back arched. She threw her arms around his neck for something to grip onto.
Every action was involuntary. Her labia tore under the pressure of his assault. He pushed deeper to give her his entire length and pressed hard against her cervix. It ruptured as he forced his way through into the neck of her uterus. He did not stop unt
il their pubic bones touched. With her arms tight around his neck, the momentum lifted her shoulders off the rooftop. Her legs remained pinned beneath his knees. When he withdrew for the first time, she finally managed to scream.
He did not care now. For the second time, he pushed his way deep inside her. The loose tissue from his first thrust came away. Blood trickled from her when he withdrew again, coating the insides of her thighs. The aroma of it wafted up to his nose, bringing the animal in him to the fore.
Her cries carried a fair distance. Many of the men in the tavern below ran out into the narrow street. They walked around in an attempt to identify the source. Some of them branched off into the adjoining alleys and streets. They could find nothing.
“Where is it coming from?” one of them asked.
Another of them looked up, and pointed to the roof of the tavern. “It is up there.”
“Then someone should go and look.”
“Who? I am not going up there.”
The owner of the tavern stepped outside. He had seen Lucia leave, but not return. “Has anyone seen Lucia?” he asked them.
They all liked her. The thought that she might come to harm worried them a lot.
“She might be on the roof. We heard screams.”
“On the roof?”
They all heard her this time, loud and clear.
“Yes,” he replied, looking up.
“Then someone get up there. I shall give free ale, and girls, for a month to the man who rescues her.”
Two men began the ascent up the trellis. Dracula heard them coming, but chose to ignore it. They posed no real threat, and Lucia was all that interested him.
He looked into her wide eyes. She could hide neither her terror nor her pain. Her insides took the most brutal pounding. In time, it numbed her body from the waist down.
The bones in her pelvis splintered and cracked. The sacral bones in her lower back came away from the lumbar vertebrae. She no longer felt a thing. Blood coated her thighs and formed a thick pool against her shredded gown.
She released her grip on his neck and fell back against the roof. Her chest shuddered as her heart threatened to give way. Dracula realised this when he heard her heartbeat slow to a dangerously low level. It was much the same as the sound that came from his victims as he sucked the last drops of blood from them.
He feared she would not last the duration with her heart about to quit on her. Eager to finish, he began to increase the momentum of his thrusts. The poor girl was almost oblivious to it all. The backs of her shoulders rubbed so hard against the rough wood that they began to bleed. Tears flowed from her eyes, and her vision clouded until she could no longer see him. Darkness engulfed her, and with her last clear thought, she hoped it might take her away.
At last, he found a release. He had an orgasm so powerful the ripples ran right through him. His juices filled her inside. Yet she did not even know it. He pressed so hard against her stomach that her mouth opened as far it could go. When he eased off, she inhaled so deep that she swallowed her tongue.
Her eyes rolled over in her head. He withdrew as her body began to jerk and shake. Before death could claim her, he bit hard into the underside of her breast. Her sweet blood transfused into his body.
He groaned as it rushed to his brain and made him giddy. Sex with Lucia had drained some of his supply, and he was eager to replenish it. He loved the sensation of her blood entering his heart before the organ pumped it to the rest of his body. It oozed through his veins and revitalised him. His muscles filled until they grew taut again.
When Lucia fell still, he moved away from her. He stood up and straightened his clothes just as the first man appeared over the edge of the rooftop. Dracula hissed at him, blood dripping from his chin and bared fangs. The shock of seeing this almost caused the man to lose his grip and fall.
Dracula had no interest in him and took to the air. He still hoped to find Machiavelli that same night. Already, he had wasted too much time here.
Now that he was no longer there to prop her up, Lucia’s body turned and rolled over on the sloped roof. The man who had come to rescue her followed the vampire’s ascent into the night sky with his eyes. He did not see Lucia’s body rolling toward him. The trellis at the top came away in his hands when they made contact. Together, they fell to the street below, taking the other man with them.
Chapter 9
TUSCANY. THE NIGHT SKIES ABOVE FLORENCE.
JULY, 1489. THE SAME NIGHT.
Dracula was quick to leave the scene behind. He hovered for a time to try and determine the route of Machiavelli’s escape. Enough time had elapsed for him to be long gone. Still, he felt sure he could pick up the young man’s trail again, however faint.
A large gathering formed outside the tavern. The people there looked down on the body of Lucia in horror. Some gazed at her broken body in total shock, while others seethed with anger. It affected the men just as much as it did the women. Most of them knew her or had spent time with her in days gone by. She had always been good value for the money, though she had never come cheap. Now none of them would enjoy time with her again.
Dracula set down two streets away. The area was deserted and quiet, but for a stray dog scavenging through some refuse for food. For a moment, he listened to the chaos around where Lucia lay. Women still screamed at their first sight of the body. Each of them shared the same thought that it could also happen to them. They turned to the men to find the culprit. All who had seen her killer now lay dead on the ground. Nobody knew a thing.
The owner of the tavern pointed to the roof. “She was up there. He threw her from the roof, and the other two fell with her.”
All eyes looked up. With the trellis gone, the men could find no way to the rooftops from the street. They pushed their way through the crowd and back into the tavern, knowing they could gain access to the roof from there.
Dracula turned his attention to the business at hand. He drowned out their shouts and focused again on Machiavelli. The scent of Lucia’s blood on parts of his body remained strong. It affected his ability to think and pick up the scent of his quarry. He tried to put it—and her—out of his mind. She should have left him be.
He stooped down and touched the ground. The young Florentine had walked this way. He looked down the street to where the faint scent of the man he wanted still lingered. The slight remnants of the glow his body heat had left behind, was there too. He grinned and set off after it.
The trail took him left and right and grew stronger as he walked. He crossed the Ponte Vecchio to the other side of the river. In the height of summer, the Arno reeked from below. Tonight he found it no exception; but then, the streets smelled no better.
He pressed on, the scent and the glow growing ever stronger. It led him to believe that Machiavelli was still out in the streets. Dracula picked up the faint hum of the young man’s heart. He followed its distinct sound, his own heartbeat gathering pace. A rush of excitement passed through him when he turned the next corner and spotted his quarry.
The young man stood quietly on a street corner. He looked as though he was waiting there for someone. Dracula moved closer to gain a perfect view of the entire area. He scanned the other’s mind to pick up his thoughts. Machiavelli was indeed waiting for another person, a woman.
Dracula walked up beside him. “There you are,” he said, smiling.
Machiavelli jumped with fright, and turned to see him standing there. His face turned deathly white. He tried to speak, but the words would not come out. The images from the alley flashed through his mind. He felt now for the second time that it was his turn to die.
“Do not be afraid. I am not here to harm you.”
Machiavelli did not look convinced. Saliva ran down over his lower lip. He wiped it away with a shaky hand when he realised.
“Rest easy. I only want to talk with you.”
“But I saw what you did to those men.”
“I hurt them only because they were about to
hurt you.”
“You did it to protect me?”
“Yes.”
“Why would you do that? You do not even know me.”
“I want to talk with you. I could hardly do that if you were dead.”
The young man regained his composure. He knew if the stranger wanted him dead, then he would have killed him by now. “I saw you at the home of Signor de’ Medici.”
“Yes, he and I are good friends.”
“I imagine it is better that than your enemy.”
“You know the answer to that already.”
“Yes, quite.”
He studied the stranger for a moment. Traces of dried blood remained on his face. Dracula learned this from his thoughts, and quickly wiped it away.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“That does not matter right at this time.”
“It matters to me. You must have good reason to have done the things you have done this night.”
“Yes, everything is for a reason. Even the things I do.”
“Then why not say who you are?”
“I shall, in good time.”
The way the stranger eluded his questions irritated Machiavelli. He looked away to try and show a lack of interest.
“Do not be petulant with me. I saved your life this night. Be grateful for that, if nothing else.”
Machiavelli shrugged and looked away again. “The men who came after me worked for Signor de’ Medici.”
“Yes, I know this.”
“I never imagined he saw me as a threat.”
“He knew nothing of it. They did it of their own volition.”
“You are certain of that?”
“Yes, I questioned the last man before his death. Lorenzo likes you. He told me as much only a short while ago.”
“Yet he cannot keep a promise he made to my father.”
“Have patience, Niccolo. He is a good man. If he can help you, he shall do so.”
“Perhaps, but he shall not be so good a man when he learns of the deaths of his men. I know him. He shall hunt for their killer until it exhausts him.”
The Shadow Box: Paranormal Suspense and Dark Fantasy Thriller Novels Page 149