“I will get the picture and we can start all over again,” Isabella suggested.
“I don’t want you to go back there. I cannot bear to spend another fifty years alone without you,” Vlad said with passionate determination.
Isabella, testing Vlad’s trust, replied, “You won’t. I will be back within a month.”
Vlad reluctantly stated, “You’d better be.”
Isabella, knowing her own will and questioning Vlad’s last response, then replied “I’d better do as I please.”
“You are so wilful, Isabella! It can be exhausting!” Vlad said, exasperated.
“I am what I am—I will never change, and neither will you.” Isabella replied with a wry smile.
“I can’t change you?” Vlad asked implying that he could.
Isabella, still smiling, said, “Men have tried before and failed.”
“I could make you change.” Vlad pulled Isabella’s hair back so that she had to look at him. She pulled away from him.
“No you couldn’t. I would just leave. Or worse still, I could stay here and ignore you, like before.”
“Isabella….”
Isabella knew this was going to develop into another argument. So she pressed her finger to Vlad’s lips and said.
“If you let me go I will stay loyal to you forever. I promise, and you know when I make a promise I keep it.” Isabella somehow, in ways she could not fully grasp, that she would keep this promise, that she would always stay loyal to Vlad in her own unique way.
“I will let you go, but be back within the month.”
“I will be back soon but because I want to be, not because you told me to do so.”
Isabella left without another word. She had lied when she told Vlad her pictures were back in Italy. She had brought one back with her, but she wanted to return to Tuscany. Ever since she had left Vincente, she had felt that he was in danger. At first she assumed it was because she knew Vlad was watching them, but now she wondered if it was something else. She wanted to make sure he was well taken care of. She at least owed this to his mother.
Isabella had every intention of her keeping her promise to Vlad. She would be back within the month and this time she be would be happy to return. She arrived back at her Italian house after nightfall. She looked out the window and saw lights in the distant piazza—they were burning fires there. She could hear loud shrill sounds and whispers about inquisitions and acts of faith. She was not so sure what this meant. A strange smell was filling the streets. It was a smell that made Isabella want to wretch. It was the smell of burning flesh.
Isabella was hungry, so she began walking towards the crowds. The stench was getting stronger but she was ravenous, she needed to feed. She followed the sounds of the crowd.
When she reached the piazza she saw what she thought looked like some sort of celebration. There were people cheering and music was playing. She overheard a man talking to a woman, telling her to make sure the straw was dry so that that the heretics would not be made unconscious by the smoke fumes. The man said that it was imperative that they felt themselves burn to purge their souls. Isabella was repelled by these people. She was supposedly the demon amongst this crowd, and yet she had never thought of anything so abhorrent. She looked up at one of the victims. The flesh was slowly burning off his legs. She felt pity for him she looked up towards his face. It was contorted in agony and yet she still recognised him. It was Vincente.
Without thinking Isabella leapt into the fire and slashed the ropes that were binding him. She carried him off away from the crowd. The people around her were so stunned at this woman leaping into the burning flames that they did nothing to stop her, but even had they tried it would have been a futile task. Isabella took him home, but it was nearly too late. She laid him down on her bed. Then she ran and got water and poured it on his legs. He was drifting in and out of consciousness. He looked up at her and grabbed her dress.
“You,” he whispered. “Isabella…take the pain away.” It was same plea his mother had made. Isabella was faced with a dilemma. Not only could she take the pain away, she had the power to let him live. Would he thank her for saving him? Isabella was reminded of Nicolae and how he had reacted. Vincente screamed again in pain. She was running out of time—she had to decide what to do. She leaned in towards him.
“I can take your pain away,” Isabella said.
“Hurry!” he screamed in anguish.
“I can also make sure that you live?” she said, her tone indicating a question.
“Hurry!” he screamed again.
“Do you want to live?” She asked.
Vincente, not knowing the full gravity of his situation, agreed in a tortured voice. “Yes, Isabella I am too young to die.”
Isabella wanted to make sure that Vincente knew exactly what he was asking her. She replied, “No matter what the cost?”
“Yes, Isabella, hurry!” he screamed again.
Isabella leaned in and bit his neck, and then she slit her own wrist and let him drink from her. The burned flesh on his wrist started to heal and then his legs gradually healed. He wanted more blood but Isabella could not spare him anymore. She ran out and brought back the man who had said to keep the straw dry. Vincente drank from him and was soon fully recovered.
Vincente was somewhat disoriented. He looked at Isabella. “What happened? How did you save my life?”
“You may not think that I have. You may have preferred to die.” Isabella answered. Vincente sat up to examine his burned flesh.
“I’m not burned.”
“No, you’re not.” Isabella answered.
“What did you do?” he said calmly. Isabella was hesitant to tell him. “Whatever it was, I am grateful,” he said.
“When you asked me why I had no mirrors around the house, I never answered you. I’ll answer your question now. The reason I have no mirrors is because they are useless to me…I have no reflection.”
Vincente opened his mouth to speak. But Isabella pressed her finger to his lips to silence him.
“Listen,” she continued softly, “have you ever heard of Vampires?”
Vincente sat before her stunned by her revelation, for he understood her, finally. He nodded.
“I am a Vampire,” Isabella told him, “and to save you I turned you into one. You’ll never grow old and you will never die; but you have to kill.”
Vincente thought for a moment and then looked at Isabella and said, “Who can I kill first?”
“I take it this means that you are not repulsed by the creature you have become.” Isabella replied.
“I get to spend eternity with you. How could this make me unhappy?” Isabella was worried by this comment, for although she held great affection for Vincente she had no intention of spending eternity with him, but she would not tell him this yet.
“You have to understand Vincente, killing is not as easy you think and if you do not kill you will be in constant pain.”
“You saw what has been done to me? How can I have any feelings towards humans when they are beset on killing me and the only one who stood up against them was a Vampire?”
“You have other weaknesses as well. Have you realised yet how well you can see at night…that there are no lights in this room?”
“I wasn’t really thinking about that. It means that I will be able to paint at night just as well as I paint during the day. I have perfect eyesight at night. This is not a weakness,” Vincente said.
“You have perfect eyesight, yes; but now only at night. During the day you see nothing clearly. It’s just a blur. It’s as if you are staring into the sun, all you see are shadows enshrined in light,” she said.
Vincente’s face dropped. This was the first piece of news that seemed to upset him, but he shook off his disappointment.
“It doesn’t matter.” He smiled and embraced Isabella, but when his face was buried in her shoulder his features darkened again. He had lost his perfect eye for painting. Painting was the only
talent he possessed and to not be able to paint during the day was devastating for him.
They sat together in the dark. Vincente held Isabella’s hand tightly; he was adjusting to the implications of his new circumstances. In the early hours of the morning they heard people gathering below Isabella’s window. She approached to watch them; they were carrying torches and planning more murders—they were a mob. “What is happening here?” she asked Vincente.
“It’s the same thing that is happening everywhere. Acts of faith, they are called. They started in Spain. The Queen declared that Jews were to be burnt as heretics and then it spread to include anyone who was not practising the Catholic religion. It has gotten steadily worse. Now it seems that anyone who was different at all is in danger of being burned. I have heard in the country villages members of the Inquisition have come through and tortured every woman until she confessed to being a witch and her reward for her confession was to be burned at the stake. I have heard of villages where not a woman has been left alive after the Inquisition has left.”
“There is evil in this world and I am only a small part of it,” Isabella said. There was a pause in the conversation and then Vincente said.
“Where did you go when you left Florence?”
“Home…well the only home I have and I have to go back there soon.”
“Good, I will go with you.”
“I wish you could.” Isabella relayed her story, about Vlad, her sister, all there was to tell him.
“You see, you can’t come with me. You must stay here and I will get away as often as I can.”
“You have to stay here with me. Please don’t go back.”
“I promised Vlad I would stay loyal to him and I will keep my promise…for now.”
“Then let me go with you.”
“No, Vlad would kill you.”
“But you said it yourself he can’t, you have made me immortal.”
“I don’t know that for sure yet. I still can’t explain why Nicolae could die and I could not. Even if Vlad couldn’t kill you, he could do other things that would cause you pain. If he knew about you he would find ways to torture you. No, he can never know you are still alive.”
“When will you leave?”
“I promised him I would be home as quickly as possible…I am going to leave tomorrow.”
“So soon?”
“Yes.”
“I pretended that I just came back for my portrait. I want him to take down a portrait of his wife and put mine in its place.”
“Why would you be concerned about the portrait of Vlad’s wife?”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“Maybe I just don‘t want a picture of another woman in my home.”
“No it’s more than that…” Vincente paused and then it struck him. “You love him.”
“Don’t be ridiculous…I have just recently stopped hating him.”
“My mother used to tell me, that to truly hate someone you must have at one time truly loved them.”
“Nonsense…as I told you, I just don’t another woman‘s picture in my home.”
Another realisation seized Vincente. “You don’t have any feelings for me, not really.”
“Now you really are being ridiculous. If I felt nothing for you I would have left you to the religious zealots.”
Vincente smiled, “No, you wouldn’t have let me burn. You do feel something for me, but it almost feels like a sense of obligation—is that it?”
“Don‘t be a fool, Why would I have any sense of obligation towards you?”
“Maybe some day you’ll tell me.”
Isabella ignored his last comment and as day was approaching, she felt tired. She had a long journey home ahead of her.
Isabella soon arrived back at the castle. Vlad looked indifferent to see her but he really wasn‘t. He was overjoyed to see her return so swiftly. But he hid his feelings. He felt he poured his heart out to her before she left and she ran from him. Isabella returned his indifference, but she too was overjoyed to see him. She sat down opposite Vlad and looked up at the portrait of his dead wife.
“Where is your portrait?” Vlad asked.
“It’s behind you.” Vlad stood to look at the portrait. It was beautiful, he thought. It was more beautiful than the picture of his wife. But Vlad had loved his wife and although he loved Isabella even more, he knew that Isabella would never look at him with the complete adoration his wife had. He also knew that he would never be completely sure of Isabella’s feelings for him. But Isabella was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen and he was besotted by her, though he feared his love of her would make him more miserable than he had been without her.
Isabella looked at Vlad surveying the painting. She was not sure until this moment that she loved him. Vincente was right; he had inherited his mother’s perspicacity. Isabella believed Vlad was still totally enamoured of his dead wife and she was only a distraction for him. She would never be sure that he loved her completely. And eternity with this man was sure to make her miserable, but she could not imagine eternity without him. A knock at the door interrupted the thoughts of the two Vampires.
Isabella looked at Vlad and he returned her gaze, both of them bewildered—who could it possibly be? They were both prepared to kill whoever it was. Isabella put her finger to her lips to keep him silent. She crept towards the door and he opened it slightly. A woman was standing outside; she was in her late fifties. Isabella saw the girl’s mother in her eyes. It was Katya’s daughter.
“Isabella?” the Vampire asked.
“Yes,” her human namesake answered. “How did you know it was me?”
“You have your mother’s eyes.”
“I want to talk to you.”
“Evidently…” Isabella answered. “I will come outside.” Isabella slipped outside and shut the door behind her. “Why did you come up here? You certainly took a risk,” the Vampire said.
“My mother asked me to come up and fetch you.”
“Why?”
“She is dying. She wanted to speak to you and see you before she left this world.”
Isabella’s outward appearance was cold and emotionless. She did not know what to expect but she consented to travel down to the village with Katya‘s daughter.
“Are you not afraid of me?” she asked.
“My mother told me you would not harm me,” Katya’s daughter answered.
“She did.” Isabella smiled. After all that had happened, Katya still had faith in her childhood friend and Isabella knew she didn’t deserve this trust.
The pair arrived at the cottage. Isabella sat down on the bed beside her dying friend. Katya opened her eyes and glanced one last time at Isabella.
“Still so beautiful, Bella.” Isabella made no response. “You’re still angry with me.”
“I’m not angry with you, Katya,” Isabella began. “Your actions have always demonstrated a caring for the others around you. You were right to kill Nicolae; he would have never accepted what I had changed him into.”
“You look the same, but yet you are different,” Katya said.
“I am different. I am not the woman you once knew. I can’t even remember what that woman was like.”
“Oh, yes you can, Isabella, or you would not be here and you would have killed my daughter.” Isabella remained silent and Katya winced in pain. “My time is running out and I have something to ask you.”
“What is it?”
“Will you grant me a wish?”
“It depends on what it is.”
Katya used all her might to sit up and then grabbed Isabella’s arm.
“Don’t play games, Isabella. Will you grant your dying friend a final wish?” Isabella was moved by Katya’s determined emotion.
“I will,” Isabella responded. “What do you want me to do?”
“I want you to promise me that from now on no member of my family will ever be harmed by your hand.” Isabella looked at her fri
end; Katya was making her promise to look after her children and their descendants. Her final thoughts were of her family. Katya was a good woman.
Isabella answered her request. “I promise you, Katya, that as long as I am living and your family is loyal to me, no member of your line will ever be harmed by a Vampire. In fact, I will keep watch over them for you and if it is in my power to protect them from any other danger, I will.”
Katya brought Isabella’s hand to her lips and kissed it. She then dropped Isabella’s hand as her strength gave out and she gasped her last breath.
Anna was still reading her story when she was silenced by a woman bursting through the door of her cottage. This woman was beautiful, but her face was cold and expressionless. It was Isabella, the Vrolok.
CHEVALIER SANS PEUR ET SANS REPROACHE
FEARLESS AND BLAMELESS KNIGHT
CHAPTER EIGHT
Catherine was terror-stricken at the sight of Isabella. Anna’s grandchildren still did not really understand what was happening but when they saw their mother struck still with fright, they began to become frightened themselves. And within a few brief moments all Anna’s grandchildren erupted into tears. Isabella immediately threw a harsh glance towards the children, which managed to silence them instantly. She spoke to Anna.
“Come with me.” Anna obeyed the command immediately. She shut the door behind her so that the children and their mother could not hear the conversation that was to go on between the old woman and the Vampire. Once the two women were alone outside, Isabella continued to speak.
“I could not save your son,” Isabella began.
“I know that…you do not need to tell me.”
“I do not need to do anything. I am telling you because I wanted you to hear it from me, no matter what these people say,” Isabella remarked superciliously.
“You were once one of these people yourself,” Anna replied. Isabella had killed people for being less familiar with her but she liked Anna, she always had. Anna had never been afraid of Isabella, as so many others of her family had been, and she had never shied away from speaking her mind where Isabella was concerned. So Isabella just smiled at her temerity.
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