"Let us rid ourselves of Gaderian Wade. Something tells me he wants to destroy us." Kane spoke matter-of-factly. "A determined man such as he is a hindrance to our plans. Just as well that Orrick remains their leader." His harsh facial features tightened. "Destroy Gaderian Wade!"
"Oh, I intend to," Stilo agreed. "But give me time. For one thing, I need to revive myself at the sacred well, since it's about time for all of us to travel there again. Just as important, I mean to seduce Angharad Cullain, and I want to make Wade suffer by seeing that she belongs to me." He looked out the wide window, where blackness covered the city, with only street lamps illuminating the cobblestones. He turned back to Kane. "Just you wait. Soon enough, I will destroy Gaderian Wade."
* * *
Sporting his new ring less than one nineday later, a bandrega prowled the streets of Moytura, looking for sex with a mortal woman. Nighttime had long since fallen over the capital, most of the stores and shops locked up, their awnings secured. Mostly clothing shops lined both sides of the street, interspersed with an occasional hat shop or shoe store. In this, one of the less desirable parts of the city, a few vagrants wandered the streets, and here and there a shopkeeper hurried home after a long work day.
Ah, yes, he could have a good time with a bandrega woman, the man silently acknowledged, but sex with a mortal woman added much more spice and excitement, especially if that woman fought his hold. A struggle and the inevitable conquest heightened his enjoyment and gave him a sense of power. Driven wild with desire, his body hardened until it became near painful as his gaze covered the streets and alleys for a human female. He knew he looked his best, as handsome and appealing as any mortal man, with his dark hair and straight nose, full lips. But where was a woman for him to fornicate? He lightly caressed his engorged penis, and wave after wave of longing heated his body. He dropped his hand, and through force of will, dampened his passion, reluctant to give himself away too soon.
There! A few yards ahead, a young woman stepped out from a dress shop and locked the door, obviously done for the day. She was young and pretty, he observed as he approached her, studying her even features and trim figure, her provocative breasts, neither too full nor too small, just the way he liked them. He clenched his hand, imagining how he would fondle those breasts, squeezing the luscious fruit, sucking on her nipples. He wouldn't seek quick gratification, he vowed as he drew nearer, but liked to make his sexual experience last. And these shop girls were so easy to seduce.
She glanced up at the sound of his footsteps, an expression of alarm on her face. Her gaze darted from left to right, as if seeking a means of escape. Hmm, maybe she wouldn't be so easy, after all. His planned ensnarement might require a little persuasion on his part.
"Hey, pretty girl," he said, now face to face with her. "You know, a young woman like you should not be wandering the streets alone at night. Not safe." He smiled widely, attempting to turn the full force of his charm on her. "Allow me to walk you home." Sweat slicked his forehead and dampened his tunic as lustful images raged through his mind.
She stepped back. "You stay away from me. I don't walk with strangers, and I'm perfectly capable of going home alone, been doing it for years. Only tonight, I had to work late and–" She stopped talking and bit her lower lip, as though aware she'd said too much.
"–and so here you are, alone at night, except for me, of course. But who wants to be by herself on such a lovely evening as this? And I can think of better things to do than walk." He hardened again, scarcely able to wait. Passion burgeoned inside him, as hot as burning coals.
Clutching her by the waist, he pressed his body against hers, leaving no doubt of his desire. "See what I mean?"
"No!" She jerked free and tried to run, but he caught her and swung her around. "No!" She twisted in his arms, her face set in fearful desperation.. She opened her mouth to scream, but he shoved his hand over her lips. His recent trip to the sacred well had given him such power, superhuman—superbandrega!–strength. He held her fast, and one glance told him no one else was about, except for one man, a long distance away, coming in their direction. But the bandrega intended to finish the deed before the man guessed what was happening. He dragged her into an alley, even while she fought and kicked his shins. He panted, not with effort but with excitement. Ah, this was going to feel good.
"Now we can either make this pleasant," he said in a conversational tone, "or I might have to use a little persuasion. Which is it to be?"
A look of terror captured her face as he raised his tunic and released his bulging, throbbing penis. She twisted in his hold, scratching her long nails across his cheek.
He flung his head back, blazing with anger. "Bitch! Persuasion it will have to be then," he said, pressing against her. "I wanted to make this a nice, pleasant experience, but you–"
A hand clamped on his shoulder, someone jerking him around. Shock rendered him speechless, his heart hammering. Struggling in the man's grip, he found his situation reversed with his recent and almost victim.
"Run!" the stranger ordered the woman. Needing no more inducement, she ran away, only once looking back before she turned the corner.
"As for you–" Furious and taunted by hunger, Gaderian bit into the man's throat, and– The man disappeared! Just like that! A mist formed in his place as Gaderian stared in shocked silence.
Tense seconds passed, but still he saw nothing but a vapor, which gradually drifted away. A bark of laughter filled the silence, leaving him puzzled and groping for answers.
* * *
"I'm telling you what happened," Gaderian declared several nights later inside Orrick's splendid apartment. "It must be one of the bandregas, for no mortal man has this power." A cool breeze wafted the silken draperies at the windows. A heavy patchouli scent polluted the air, evidence that Orrick's latest mistress must be somewhere about, no doubt in the bedchamber.
Orrick frowned. "Disappeared, you say?" Tall and beefy, he had the look of a pugilist, or of a retired soldier who'd let his body go to seed. Bushy brown hair sprouted from a round head, thick eyebrows topping dark, penetrating eyes. Deep wrinkles tracked his forehead and cheeks.
Gaderian snapped his fingers. "Disappeared, just like that!"
"You sure you didn't have too much to drink that night?" The vampire leader smirked.
Irritation roiled inside Gaderian, a muscle twitching in his jaw. And this is the leader of the undead, he fumed. He shifted his position in the chair. "You know I don't drink to excess. I'm telling you what I saw, what happened that night." Talmora's tits! What did he have to say to convince the man?
"Witnesses?" Orrick asked with a raised eyebrow. "What about the lady in question?"
He struggled to suppress his annoyance with the obstinate leader. "I told you, she had already run away."
"Ah, yes, you did say that, didn't you? So I have only your word." He sat back and crossed his legs.
Gaderian's irritation increased, his pulse pounding. "Come on, Orrick! What could I possibly gain by making this story up?" Although he was seething inside, he fought to keep his voice even. Must not let the leader see how rattled he was. "Look what the bandregas have done, just within the past few years. They have created fear of the vampires among the humans. Now there is a reward offered for our capture. Every bit as important, how do they get their powers? How do they make themselves look human? It was not always so, Orrick. I remember and surely you do, too. More than a century ago, the bandregas had to stay within their own villages, never mingle with the mortals who would see them for the demons–the monsters!–they are. Now they can apply the glamour and practice black magic. And more recently, they can make themselves disappear. Haven't you ever wondered how these changes came about?"
The vampire leader stretched his legs out. "It has crossed my mind now and then. And yes, I wish I knew how they have affected these changes. But until we can do something about the situation, we need to find out more." He looked away for a moment, speaking to a distant corner of
the room. "We must develop a plan."
Gaderian scoffed. "Forget about a goddess-damned plan. Isn't it past time we had another meeting of our representatives? We usually meet at the beginning of every moonphase. We must discover how the bandregas have acquired these powers, how they have learned to make themselves look human, and yes, how they can make themselves invisible. I intend to do something about it." He pointed his finger at the leader. "And I intend to defeat them."
Chapter Eleven
Fianna emerged from the Snow Leopard onto the wet cobblestones as a recent shower slowed to a drizzle and gradually stopped. The scent of rain hung in the air, a fresh, clean aroma and a welcome relief after the tavern's smoke-heavy dining room. Within minutes, the clouds drifted away, a quarter moon and millions of stars lighting a cobalt sky. A cool breeze lifted her hair from her neck and prompted her to draw her woolen shawl closer about her shoulders as she headed for the wooden bench to sit for a while before retiring for the night. Raindrops from the oak tree dripped onto her arms, and the streetlights cast a dull path on the wet cobblestones. An occasional vagrant tramped past, but for the most part, few people frequented the streets at this late hour.
Voices reached her from the other side of a vast oak, a tree that hid her from view. One voice left her with no doubt of the speaker.
"How long has it been?" he asked. Gaderian! Who else? "Fifty years, one-hundred? Time means nothing to our kind. You taught me that fact after my transformation, so long ago."
Fianna caught her breath. What was Gaderian talking about? Who was he talking to?
"Ah, yes," a woman replied. "But we always meet again, don't we? You're a difficult man to forget, Gaderian. No other man can compare to you, ever."
A few moments of silence followed, leaving Fianna with no doubt of how Gaderian and the woman were filling the time.
Dizzy and sick with heartache, Fianna unobtrusively slid along the bench and walked steadily back toward the tavern. Inside, she suppressed tears and assumed her friendly face, smiling and returning the greetings of the men who occupied the tables in the main dining room, men who surely must have wondered why she'd returned so soon. After wending her way among the tables, she headed down the hallway to her bedchamber, her heart hammering inside her chest. Careful to hide her feelings in case any of the men watched her, she opened the door to her room and shut it behind her, breathing a long sigh, stifling the tears that threatened to spill. Cedric had recently provided her with a pine three-drawer dresser, and within the tiny room, she withdrew her black mirror from her dresser drawer, then sank down on her pallet. Once and for all, she must discover the truth about Gaderian. She should have done this long ago but realized she'd been afraid to learn the truth.
She blinked her eyes and sought concentration as she aimed for a trancelike state. She waited long moments, willing her heart to stop pounding, waiting for the visions to appear. Silent minutes passed as she stared into the mirror, every thought, every focus on Gaderian. Images swirled in the mirror, visions of a man, tall and handsome–Gaderian!—biting into a helpless victim's throat. She saw the man thrash and struggle in Gaderian's grasp. Gaderian sucked blood from the man's throat, then looked up, as if looking straight at her! Blood ran down his chin and dripped onto his tunic. He let the man slip from his hold and–the image faded, leaving a blank mirror. Fianna willed the visions to return, but the mirror remained blank. Frustration taunted her that she couldn't see more, but she'd seen enough, discovered the monster Gaderian was.
A jumble of emotions raged within her, where sorrow mingled with shock, but anger, too. She recalled the notice on the village bulletin board when she had first arrived in Moytura. She could see it clearly, a reward offered for information leading to the capture of a vampire. Goddess, don't let it be true. Let this all be a nightmare. Vampire. The word repeated itself in her brain, over and over, a never-ending torment. Anguish churned inside her, making her sick. She swallowed again and again as tears streamed down her face. He'd led her to think he cared for her, when all along another woman held his heart. And he wasn't even human.
If she turned him in, then what? A stake through the heart. Could she do that to the man she loved? But he didn't love her. He had misled her, betrayed her, this man who was not mortal, this man who preyed on human beings.
Her heart pounded inside her chest, so fast she feared it would explode. With careful deliberation, she set the mirror aside as her ears rang and the room spun around her. It was all true, what she had pondered from the beginning but dared not believe.
Gaderian was a vampire.
* * *
After gently removing Moreen's hands from his shoulders, Gaderian sought to tell her they could no longer see each other as they had since his transformation. Or if they did meet now and then, best to meet only as friends. Without a doubt, he loved Fianna and her alone. He would love her until the sun died and the world stopped spinning.
He spoke with hesitation. "Moreen, your friendship means more to me than I can say, but–"
"But friendship is all you want, is that it? Well, it is the same with me. But a bit of casual sex now and then would not be amiss, as we've done all these centuries. Gaderian, you are so good in bed, I live for the times we can spend together. If only we could see each other more often–"
He opened his mouth to speak, but she rushed on. "–and after all, why don't we? You surely can't be so busy that every spare moment is taken. And I get bored with many of my other lovers," she said with a look of beguiling appeal. She placed her hands on his chest. "None of my other lovers are as good as you."
Seeing that several mortals had gathered on the street, he lifted her elbow and led her away, where they could walk along a narrow alley, devoid of people. He looked down at her and spoke with resolve. "Moreen, I need to tell you that there is someone else I love very much."
"Ah," she said, her eyes alight with interest. "Who, Gaderian? Germaine, Nola? Aye, she's a pretty one, is Nola. Or Ronat?" Coming to the end of the alley, they crossed over to Gwydion Street, this one leading to a seedier part of the capital.
Despair twisted inside him. "She is a mortal woman, and yes, I know nothing can come of our . . . friendship. But don't you see, I can't make love to someone else–to you–while my mind is on this woman." He remembered the love he and Moreen had once shared, the good times they had spent together. He wondered if his love for another woman hurt Moreen, the farthest wish from his mind.
Moreen sighed. "You have always held a special place in my heart. And although you tell me nothing will come of your attraction to this mortal woman, I sense you intend to pursue this love interest. I–no, let me finish. You must stay away from this mortal woman, forget her. Our kind should never mingle with humans. Therein lies only heartache–"
"You think I don't know that?" he cried, the words wrenched from him, his despair deepening.
"We are in enough danger already."
"The bandregas!"
She nodded. "Just so. And what if this mortal woman discovers you are a vampire and turns you over to the authorities? Or have you forgotten that there is a price on our heads?"
"I haven't forgotten," he muttered. He tried to think rationally, despite the many doubts that stalked his mind. Fianna's scrying had hinted to her of his secret. Talmora forbid that she would find out he was one of the undead. "In the first place, I have given her no reason to suspect what I am." He tried to reassure himself as much as to convince Moreen. "In the second place, I flatter myself that she returns my affections. Even if she did guess what I am–and I'm certain she won't–she would not turn me in." He spoke with a confidence he didn't feel, knowing full well she might be tempted to look into her mirror again, to discover the secret he'd tried so hard to conceal. And if she did discover his secret, would she surrender him to the authorities? Goddess forbid!
She waved her hand. "As important as this matter is, we will let it go for now. You know I want only what is best for you. I fear you are trusti
ng too much to chance or good fortune, but I fear I can't dissuade you from your purpose. I don't want you to get hurt. Now, another matter--what shall we do about the bandregas?"
"Just as important, what shall we do about Orrick?" Absently, Gaderian glanced in the window of a shoe shop as he and Moreen trod along the cobblestones and reached Vernunna's Alley. Bitterness crept into his voice. "How I'd like to replace Orrick as leader of the undead. The man is useless, does nothing for us. He remains aware of the danger from the bandregas, but I swear the threat means nothing to him. How in the world did he become our leader?" Overhead, clouds formed again, the breeze picking up. Heaps of garbage were piled up outside buildings, waiting for collection in the morning. A rat skittered across the cobblestones, then another . . . and another.
Moreen smirked, sidestepping a loose branch on the street. "I'll tell you how Orrick became our leader. Threats, bribes. He basks in the prestige that comes with the position, the luxurious apartment. He doesn't do anything to earn his keep, as the mortals would say. All of which brings us back to the bandregas." She laid a hand on his arm and spoke with determination. "If you were to discover their secret, how they can make themselves look human, what enables them to practice black magic–if you could turn them over to the government, you could easily replace Orrick as our leader."
"This same thing has occurred to me–to discover the puzzle of the bandregas. I'd give anything to learn how they've gained their special powers." He ran his fingers through his hair. "It seems an impossible task. I don't know where to begin." His jaw tightened. "But I intend to do everything possible to defeat the demons." Silently, he cursed himself for his words of futility. It wasn't like him to be so pessimistic. A plan formed in his mind. He would search from village to village in the kingdom of Avador, to the places where the bandregas used to live at the time of their banishment. Would Fianna be safe from Stilo Mongan while he was away? Doubts lodged in his mind. He could not stay away for long, would need to hurry back to Moytura, to protect Fianna.
Avador Book 2, Night Shadows Page 10