“She was still holding the knife when she entered the room. She yelled at the pair at the top of her voice to get away from me. They both laughed at her and she approached her lover and lashed out at him, slicing open the skin on his arm. He screamed in pain like the pig that he was. The other one tried to grab at the knife my sister was holding. She then lashed out at his hand and sliced his hand open as well. She called out to me to get up and go with her. I got up as best I could, and made my way over to her. I stood behind her and clung to her dress for support and the two of us backed out of the room.
“We ran from the house as fast as we could. When we arrived home my father opened the door. He saw the state I was in and shouted angry recriminations, asking who had done this to me.
“My sister told him what had happened. My father looked at her in disgust. He told her she had been deceiving him by seeing this man behind his back, and he threw his fists at her in a rage. She moved out of the way and he stumbled and fell to the ground. We tried to pull him up back onto his feet but he was clutching his head. Blood was seeping out from between his fingers. Our father was dead within moments.
“Over the ensuing weeks we pulled ourselves together and arranged his funeral. My sister and I became very close. We had never really liked each other before but we had been brought together by what had happened.”
“You never loved your sister before this happened?” interrupted Isabella.
“Oh, no, I always loved my sister. We were sisters. Of course we loved each other. We just did not like each other very much sometimes. Anyway we were closer then, than we had ever been. The day after my father’s funeral my sister was told about her inheritance, she looked at me and told me that she didn’t deserve this money. ‘Don’t be foolish, of course you do,’ I told her.
“I don’t,” she said back to me, “because I am the one who killed him. I should not profit from his death.”
“I tried to reassure her and tell her that she did not kill him, that it was just an accident. She answered that our father certainly thought she was responsible for my rape. The last time she had ever seen him, he had tried to strike her. If she had only let him, he would still be alive. And with that she left me. I called after her but she did not listen. That was the last time I ever saw her alive.
“Yesterday morning I got up before my sister. She had been very quiet in her room for hours. I felt that she wanted or needed to be on her own, to come to terms with her own guilt. I waited until the mid afternoon and then I went up to her bedroom. I knocked on the door. She didn’t answer, but I entered anyway. I could not see her. I heard a creaking coming from behind the door. I shut the door to see what was behind it. At my eye level all I could see was my sister’s waist swinging back and forth. I was afraid to look up. I slowly drew up my eyes and I saw my sister’s once beautiful face contorted into an agonising grimace. She had hanged herself.
“In the previous weeks I had put out of my mind all thoughts of revenge but now I wanted his blood and I grabbed a knife and ran here. My only regret is that I was not here to see him suffer.”
“Don’t worry, I drew out his death and when he died he was begging for his life,” answered Isabella.
“Thank you for telling me that, but again, I must say we have to leave here.”
Isabella felt that she could trust this woman completely and if she found out that she could not trust her, Isabella could easily kill Lia. So Isabella decided to take a risk.
“Lia, my name is Isabella; you have told me your secrets and in return I shall tell you mine. That man I killed never did anything to me. I killed him because I liked the look of his house and I was hungry.”
Isabella was using her influence on Lia to make her listen to her words and not be afraid. Although this was true, Lia’s will was her own. Isabella had learned to use her powers wisely.
“I am not like you,” Isabella continued “I used to be but not any more. I am immortal, a Vampire.” Isabella held out her wrist towards Lia and with her nail made a gash across it. Lia watched in disbelief as the blood seeped from the wound and then trickled away to reveal a wrist, which was unmarked.
Isabella relinquished any influence she had used on Lia so that Lia was completely free to feel and react as her own will dictated.
“Are you not frightened?” Isabella asked.
Lia looked at Isabella and said, “If you, being such a creature, wanted me dead you would have done it by now.”
Isabella nodded in reply and said, “You can stay in Florence. I can protect you.”
“I am not sure I should stay,” Lia answered.
“Well you at least should stay until you have settled the score.” Lia looked at her with curiosity. “The other man,” Isabella continued, “the one who held you down.”
Isabella stood in the ale house watching him. He was a large man; he looked strong. However, there was nothing in his appearance or his demeanour to recommend him to a woman. He was eating his dinner in the most grotesque fashion. A good amount of the food was embedded in his beard and the food that actually reached his mouth was spat out again. The thought of him coming near a woman, never mind attacking her, was enough to make anyone wretch. A dog came over to where he was sitting and whimpered, begging for a scrap of meat. This man answered his whimpers by kicking the dog. He resumed eating his dinner, throwing the scraps into the fire beside him to spite the animal.
Isabella approached the man and sat in the chair opposite him. He looked up at her and spat out a piece of fatty skin that was wedged in the corner of his mouth. As a consequence of this action saliva came shooting out of his mouth in all directions. Isabella hid her disgust, but disgusted she was. She curled up the side of her lip into a smile. She leaned over towards him, setting her elbows on the table. Isabella rested her chin gently on her hands and waited. She did not have to wait very long. The insidious creature sitting opposite Isabella started to speak.
“What do you want?” he said, and he quickly followed this phrase with. “I haven’t got any money.” Isabella was slightly offended. She might no longer have human blood in her veins but she still had a modicum of self-respect. This man assumed she was a prostitute. In spite of this, Isabella retained her smile. He was starting to get unnerved by her. This beautiful creature had chosen to sit in front of him rather than with anyone else in the room. This made him curious and suspicious and yet he was fascinated by her. He asked again.
“What do you want?”
“I don’t want anything,” Isabella said softly.
“Then why did you sit here?”
“Why would I not sit here?” He sat silently still eating, looking at Isabella curiously. “Maybe I liked the look of you,” Isabella continued, and the man grunted in response.
“You want something,” he said. “A woman like you always wants something.” Isabella smiled. Maybe he was not as stupid as she thought. She would have to try a different approach.
“All right, I need a room for the night.” Isabella said.
“A room.”
“Yes.”
“And what will you give me in exchange?” Isabella leaned coquettishly back in the chair, her arm draped over one side, her back pressed against the other, and answered.
“Whatever you want.”
In response, the man fumbled about in his pockets hurriedly and pulled out a few coins, slinging them onto the table. He was excited in anticipation. He leaped up out of his chair. “Hurry up,” he growled to Isabella.
But she was not as quick to get up as the man would have liked and he lost his patience with her and pulled at her arm. Isabella used all the restraint she had. She had killed people for much less than this, but this was not going to be her kill. That pleasure was reserved for someone else. They left the inn together. A woman was watching them from the shadows outside. She followed them, keeping herself hidden from the pair, but Isabella knew she was there. The man was dragging Isabella by the wrist. Isabella was not used to being treate
d like this and she would not put up with it for long. Thankfully, she did not have to.
They soon arrived at the man’s apartment. It was at the top flight of a dilapidated house. They went up the stairs and he shut the door behind Isabella. He turned and pushed her up against the wall and then pressed his lips on hers. Isabella gently pushed him back. He seemed slightly disgruntled at this, but his frown turned back into a lecherous smile when Isabella lay invitingly on top of his bed. Isabella pulled up the bottom of her dress slightly to reveal part of her leg. He ran and clambered over to the bed and quickly removed Isabella’s shoes and then clumsily started to kiss her feet. Isabella had had more than enough of this man’s company, so she decided to hurry up the proceedings. She leaned down and placed her finger under his chin so he was looking up into her eyes.
“I’d like to ask you a question,” Isabella began.
“Anything,” he spluttered. Isabella’s hypnotic voice filled the room and when she asked a question in this manner very few people could have resisted answering her.
“What is your worst fear?” The man sat back on the floor relinquishing any grip he had on her. His mind filled with dreadful memories that he would have rather never thought upon again. He looked up at Isabella; he was totally within her thrall. He looked gentle, as if he was only to be pitied when he started to speak. But Isabella would hold no pity for him.
“When I was young, just a child, I became very ill and was declared dead. They put me in a coffin and lowered into me into a grave. When they were piling on the dirt, burying me I was awakened by the sound of the earth thudding against the coffin lid. The crowd outside heard a faint scratching, followed by screams of a child who was petrified of the dark. My mother demanded that the coffin be pulled up and opened. I rolled out gasping for air. I have always remembered how I felt when I was trapped in that constricting box. I have had nightmares ever since. I dream that I wake up in the dark unable to move, not knowing where I am at first. I struggle and try push up on the lid but dirt pours in through the cracks and then I realise that I am underneath the ground. I stop struggling, afraid that the dirt will suffocate me, but the air then starts to get sour and it becomes more difficult for me to breathe. I am shouting out for my mother but this time she doesn’t come, and I know no one else will hear me before I die.”
Isabella leaned down and the man thought she was going to kiss him to comfort him, but she had no comfort to offer him. Isabella bit down hard into his neck. He squealed out in agony and blood gushed from his open wound. The girl he had helped to rape finally entered the room. Isabella grabbed his face and forcibly turned it around so that he could see Lia.
“Do you remember her?” Isabella asked. The man now knew that his life was in the hands of the two women. Blood was still pouring from his open wound. He ran for the door in a last attempt to save his own life and the two women grabbed both his arms and pulled him back.
“What are you going to do to me?” he whimpered.
“You are going to go to sleep,” Lia answered. “When you awake you will be in your own grave.” The man started to tremble and after a few minutes he fainted.
He awoke the next day; he couldn’t move. He was imprisoned in his final resting place. He started to struggle but the earth started to pour in on him from between the cracks in the lid. The air around him quickly started to turn sour. He yelled out for help but he knew no one could possibly hear him.
The two women woke the following morning. Isabella looked at the girl she had helped kill her attacker. She looked sad. Isabella was afraid was she feeling remorse
“Are you feeling guilty?” she asked.
Lia looked up at her inquisitively.
“You look remorseful.” Isabella continued.
“No, I am not remorseful. Far from it. I am sad because I think I am pregnant and the gratification I felt while killing that man was nothing compared to the happiness I once shared with the family he helped destroy. I will always miss them, but I do not feel anything for him; he was beyond my pity. I hope he rots slowly in his grave.”
Isabella recognised the dark look that came across Lia’s face. For, like Isabella, she had been touched by malevolence and it had poisoned her.
Lia and Isabella never spoke again of the events that had happened the previous night.
The following months were spent in the house Isabella had acquired. Lia stayed with her. Isabella was happy during this time, as happy as she could be. Lia was a woman who did not pass judgement on Isabella. She knew the cruel things Isabella was capable of and did not think badly of her. Lia understood Isabella and Isabella understood her. The two women were now bound to each other.
Isabella wished she could keep this woman with her forever as a constant companion. She often tried to discuss this with Lia, but all Lia ever told her was that she did not want to hang on to this life any longer than she had to. Life had brought her nothing but pain and she did not want to prolong it.
The pair spent their nights together wandering through the streets hunting for Isabella’s next victim. Isabella had also started stealing from her victims. She was running out of money and she wanted to live in the manner that she had become accustomed too. They were becoming quite skilled at picking the right sort of victim and they were both acquiring quite a fortune. During the day Isabella slept. Lia would sometimes visit the graves of her father and sister, or visit the more distant members of her family.
One day in the autumn she invited Isabella to a family party. Isabella laughed at the very idea but she went anyway out of respect for her friend.
From the moment she entered the house Isabella felt out of place. Love and warmth filled this place. Lia was going round all her family in turn, laughing and enjoying herself. In the time she had known Lia she had never seen her so happy. Isabella had never seen anything like this. She had only been close to her grandfather and had never had or even seen a family party before. For the second time in her life Isabella felt totally anonymous until an elderly gentleman came over and sat beside her.
“My name is Matteo Bandello. I am a distant cousin of Lia’s,” the elderly man introduced himself.
Isabella smiled at the man. She had promised her friend that she would be polite and also most importantly that she would not kill any one, unless Lia said she could. So she tried to remember the manners her grandfather had taught her so many years ago and answered the friendly-looking old gentleman.
“I’m Lia’s friend.”
“I know…I thank you for looking after Lia. She has been so melancholy since her father and sister died. Her happiness has been forever marred by that tragedy.”
“I know. It is good to see her smile again,” Isabella answered.
“Yes, it is. Maybe there is hope for her yet,” Matteo answered. “You look sad as well. You are a melancholy pair,” he said.
Isabella smiled slightly.
“What makes you so sad? Why should such a beautiful young girl not be happy?”
“Beauty doesn’t automatically bring you happiness. If anything, quite the opposite,” Isabella responded.
“You are quite correct but with such a beautiful girl surely the odds of being happy are definitely in your favour.”
“I thought so once. I thought my beauty could bring me happiness and it did, it got me everything I wanted, but later, it also took everything from me.”
“You speak so maturely for one so young,” Matteo commented.
“I am older than you think,” Isabella answered.
“You cannot be any more than eighteen,” Matteo said, laughingly.
“I am considerably older than that,” Isabella said. Isabella thought she had ended the conversation, but Matteo was very persistent.
“You say you were happy once?”
Isabella looked at the man. He was being too inquisitive for her liking.
“I am sorry; I am a writer—I like to hear people’s stories,” Matteo explained, sensing Isabella’s slight relucta
nce to his persistent probing.
“A writer. I should have guessed. No one in this city is anything else but a writer or an artist, and yet I see you are all selling your wares during the day, but none of you seem to admit to being merchants.”
Matteo laughed. “You are being quite churlish. Maybe I should not have sat beside you!”
“I know, and I promised your cousin Lia I would be good,” Isabella commented sharply.
“You don’t have to be good on my account,” Matteo replied. “People who do not speak their mind hold no interest for me. So you are not impressed by Florence, then?”
“Not really,” Isabella answered.
“Have you ever looked around you?” Matteo asked with a look of confusion.
“Not really,” said Isabella.
Matteo then in a matter-of-factly way replied, “Well, you should. There are many beautiful sights to be seen.”
“I take it you like it here,” said Isabella.
“This is the place where dreams come true,” Matteo responded.
“I don’t have any dreams and certainly not anything that can come true here,” said Isabella.
“You are a cynic. You need a little romance in your life, a little love,” Matteo laughingly replied.
“No, thank you. That is one thing I do not need any more of…I have had my fill of it,” Isabella replied.
“Don’t be so hasty. I promise you will want to love again,” Matteo said.
“I am afraid you are very wrong, I do not ever want to love again.”
“Ah, but that does not mean you won’t.”
Isabella could not help but smile at this man. He was an old romantic, an optimist in a cynical world.
“Love is what keeps us alive and what brings us together,” he continued. “I’m writing a story now about two young lovers from warring families. The love that the two people share brings their families together. Love unites them.”
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