“So what do I do?”
“Well, I say ignore the bastard while he’s not here. Just…live your life. Go have fun. Armando is doing whatever it is he needs to do and you do the same. Maybe the dream about Mom is about a broken heart and being afraid of someone hurting you. She always took such good care of us and if she was here I know she’d say the right thing.”
“Roman says I look like her.”
“You do. You’re tiny-boned like she was. Bird-like. My little swan. I’m all clunky like Dad. I got that Socoli height and broad shoulders.” Alisha playfully flexed her muscles. “I am Wonder Woman!”
Vanora sat up, a smile slowly seeping onto her lips. “What about my albinism?”
Smoothing out Vanora’s disheveled hair, Alisha gave her a tender look. “Mom said it’s from her side of the family. Another gift to you from her.”
“The dream, Alisha, it was so real. Like it really happened.”
“But it didn’t. Mom and Dad never made it out of the car, Vanora. Besides, who would stab Mom? It makes no sense.”
“She said it was because whoever would hurt me would be stopped by her. They were eliminating her to get to me.”
“Then, I’ll stop whoever tries to hurt you.”
“Because you’re Wonder Woman.”
At times like these Vanora looked like a little girl again, not a young woman about to seize hold of life. “No, because I love you.”
Much to Alisha’s relief, the conversation turned to other topics and Vanora’s tears finally faded. By the time she left her sister’s room and entered her studio, she felt exhausted, hungry, and anxious. Walking to the far side of the large room, she placed her hands on the two wall sconces and pushed. The secret hideaway slid open. Stuffed with so many paintings that Alisha never wanted anyone to see, she wasn’t even able to slip inside anymore. Her grandfather had built the secret room out of paranoia. Ironic that she now used it to hide her premonition paintings because she was just as paranoid. Carys’s powers had manifested in visions, Vanora apparently could sense emotions and had vivid dreams, but Alisha’s abilities were trapped within her artwork. She never wanted anyone to see them, but she couldn’t bear to destroy them either.
It took a while, but she finally found the canvas she was searching for. Drawing it out, she stared at it in despair.
It was of her mother floating in a river, fire on the far bank, and a full moon partially obscured by the silhouette of a tall, muscled man hovering before it. Closing her eyes, she pressed her hand to the center of the painting, covering the jeweled dagger she had painted. It was plunged into Carys’s chest.
“What does it mean?” she whispered, but there was no answer.
Her paintings were full of symbolism, parables of the truth. The figure in the sky didn’t resemble Armando. The shape reminded her much more of Sin’s tall, sleek musculature. With a sigh, she shoved it back among the other paintings. Roman would never believe her story and Vanora was already frightened enough.
Alisha would just have to stay alert and hopefully be able to decipher what Vanora’s dream and her painting truly meant.
Halloween 2007
Vanora rushed to the front door as soon as she heard the doorbell ring. She’d been escorting vampires into the ballroom since the party started an hour after sunset at eight. Her excuse was that she was trying to be helpful, but she was very anxious about Armando’s arrival. It was nearly nine, and most of the guests had already arrived. She was terrified that he wouldn’t actually show up, and she was certain her heart couldn’t handle that development.
Yanking the door open, she squealed with delight.
Sheila and Alexander stood on the threshold of the Socoli mansion. She was dressed as Bela Lugosi’s Dracula and he was Gary Oldman’s version. Sheila twirled her long satin cape, while Alexander tipped his gray top hat.
“Great costumes!” Vanora declared as she greeted them.
Sheila, grinned. “Happy Halloween, Vanora. Glad you like the duds. Took Alexander here forever to get ready.”
Alexander shrugged, but smiled.
“You’re really fancy! Who are you?”
“Cinderella’s fairy godmother,” Vanora responded, modeling her opulent gown of white chiffon and silk. A tiara sparkled in her hair and she had a rhinestone wand in one hand.
“Not Cinderella?” Sheila asked in surprise.
“Fuck her. I want the power!” Vanora winked
“I like your style,” Sheila said, laughing.
“Come in! The party is in full swing.”
Vanora steered the new guests through the foyer and down a long hallway. With great flourish, she flung open the doors to the large ballroom decorated in opulent, elegant Halloween décor. It was packed with people clad in outrageous costumes, dancing to the music blaring forth from strategically placed speakers. Roman, dressed as Zorro, gallantly strode up to his new guests to greet them.
“Happy Halloween,” Roman said, eyeing Sheila. “Why didn’t you dress up, Sheila?”
“Very funny, Roman.”
Next to her, Alexander smirked.
Roman kissed Sheila’s cheek. “Let’s just say the costume isn’t much of a stretch.”
Sheila playfully hissed at him, baring truly fake-looking plastic fangs, then tugged Alexander toward some friends.
Vanora smacked Roman with her wand. “You’re so mean.”
“Eh. I have that whole anti-Dracula thing going, you know.”
“Roman, you look like Dracula dressed as Zorro.”
Laughing, Roman grabbed her hand and twirled her about. Vanora loved the way her skirt flowed out around her legs and sparkled in the light cast from the chandeliers. Roman spun her about a few times, then pulled her away from the edge of the dance floor.
“Having fun, Vanora?” Roman asked, sweeping his cape back.
Vanora nodded with delight. “Yeah, the costumes are really great.”
Roman glanced about the room, smiling with approval. “It’s one of the best parties we’ve ever thrown.”
“It’s almost like a movie or a soap opera. Really over the top and kinda crazy.”
“Vampires celebrating Halloween is a bit crazy.”
The front door chimes echoed through the house and Alisha cried out, “I’ll get the door!”
Checking the clock on the mantel, Vanora tried not to rush after the doorbell. It had taken her hours to get ready and she wanted to look her best when Armando arrived. Though a part of her was convinced Armando would pretend nothing had ever occurred between them, she also wanted him to think she was beautiful, elegant, and mature. If she showed up at the door ruffled and acting like an anxious teenager, she’d look like a dolt.
“So…how do you like the dress?” Vanora posed for her brother.
Roman looked proud, yet concerned. “You’re beautiful. Like a princess bride. Though you can’t go getting married!”
“Really? That’s what you’re going to say to me?”
Roman kissed Vanora’s cheek fondly. “You’re my little sister. You’re little. And my sister. I may still lock you in the attic.”
“I’m about to punch you.”
“Where do you get this violent streak from?” Roman pretended to be horrified.
Vanora was about to make a snappy retort when she saw Roman’s eyes light up with sudden interest. She whirled around to see what had caught his eye. A man dressed as a Venetian plague doctor stood in the doorway clad in a long black coat, wide-brimmed hat, and black mask with a long hooked beak. Though that bleak costume was impressive, it was the woman standing next to him that had caught Roman’s eye. Dressed as a fortuneteller, the woman’s raven hair and flashing black eyes were a stark contrast to the brilliant red and gold outfit that clung to her provocative curves. She glanced about the room, smiling broadly until her eyes fell on Roman, then her entire air changed. Her expression mirrored Roman’s rapture.
“Is that Armando?” Vanora asked her stupefied brother. The
fluttering in her stomach and the abrupt hitch in her breathing seemed a good indication that it was. Which meant the woman next to him was the mysterious Carlotta. The mere sight of her made Vanora want to crawl into a hole and die.
“Let’s find out.” Roman was already moving toward the newly-arrived couple and Vanora followed in his wake.
“Good evening, Roman,” Armando’s voice said from behind the mask as they approached.
“Welcome, Armando. I’m glad you could make it,” her brother said grasping his friend’s hand. Roman’s eyes slid toward the bewitching woman. “And who is your lovely companion?”
“I am Carlotta,” the woman responded as she offered her hand. “And I am so pleased to meet you.”
Roman gallantly kissed it. “I believe the pleasure is all mine.”
Golden eyes behind the gruesome plague mask glinted at Vanora and she slightly waved with her wand. She felt like a dolt.
“Carlotta is an old friend from times past. She recently surfaced in Houston and when I told her about you, she wanted to meet you,” Armando said by way of introduction. “She has read your works and-”
“Enough, Armando,” Carlotta said, dismissing him with the wave of her hand. “Roman, I find your concepts intriguing. I have lived in darkness for so long, I have forgotten what it means to be mortal. Your book reminded me of the glory of mortality, and I felt so ashamed. You must help me.” Carlotta tucked her hand into the crook of Roman’s arm and stared up at him with adoring eyes.
“Of course! I’d love to discuss my philosophies with you.” Roman was completely enraptured by the beautiful woman.
Vanora fought the urge to roll her eyes.
Carlotta demurely lowered her lashes. “I am so ashamed of what I have become.”
“Please, don’t say that,” Roman objected as he slowly led her away.
Behind his mask, Armando chuckled.
“Who’s that?” Vanora asked falling in beside him.
“An old friend.”
“An old friend, huh? How old?”
“I think around three hundred years,” Armando responded, gazing after Roman and Carlotta.
“She doesn’t look it,” Vanora observed, scorn seeping into her voice. She wanted Armando to be looking at her, not at Roman and Carlotta as they made their way through the costumed revelers.
Armando turned to regard her. “Well, I suppose. It’s a vampire trait.” His tone was completely serious.
“Earth to Armando,” Vanora sighed with exasperation. “I’m making a joke here!”
Inclining his head toward her, Armando’s muffled voice said, “I know. I’m teasing.”
Tucking a loose curl back into her ringlets, she tried not to visibly preen in front of him. With a sinking heart, she realized that he was still watching Carlotta. In fact, most of the vampires were observing her. Alisha stood on the other side of the room dressed like Tinkerbelle with her mouth hanging open as she watched her brother openly flirt with the newcomer.
“Sorry if I seem distracted. My attention is a bit scattered.” Armando’s accent sounded heavier than usual.
Vanora regarded the voluptuous vampire as she clung to Roman’s arm, speaking to him animatedly. “Uh huh. I can guess where it is.”
Armando gave her a sharp look. “We’re friends,” he said quickly.
“Friends?” Vanora swiveled toward him, her skirt swishing around her.
“You look lovely.”
“You’re changing the subject.”
“You look like the Queen of the Moon,” Armando continued.
“Close friends?”
Armando shrugged. “It’s a lovely dress. Are you supposed to be a queen?”
Vanora hated that the ugly mask he wore hid his face so thoroughly. Knowing she wasn’t going to get anywhere, she obligingly went along with the change in conversation. “I’m a fairy godmother.”
“Ah, you went for the power, huh?”
“Absolutely!”
“You look divine.” The amber eyes behind the mask smoldered.
Vanora blushed and she nervously fussed with her sparkling wand. “Uh, well. Halloween!”
“But then again, you’re always beautiful.”
Tilting her head toward him, she felt ridiculously happy at the compliment. “You’re sweet.”
“For a plague doctor.”
Vanora flushed under his admiration. Directing her attention toward the vampires scattered across the dance floor, she felt like she was gazing into a painting of subtle perfection. The vampires were as unbelievably beautiful and graceful as many of the great predators of the earth. They absolutely took Vanora’s breath away.
Casting an adoring look at Armando, Vanora boldly took his hand. “How about a dance?”
Armando didn’t even answer. He just took her in his arms and swung her out onto the dance floor. Sheila had obviously taken over the DJ equipment. The Cure was playing, the maudlin romantic music filling the old stuffy ballroom. Armando expertly drew her through the throng of vampires, dancing with grace that surprised her. Yet, she felt as though he wasn’t truly dancing with her for his gaze was directed past her.
Vanora glanced over her shoulder and sighed. “Are you sure there is nothing between you and that woman?”
“Why would you ask such a thing?” Armando admonished her.
“Well?” Vanora persisted.
“Nothing to speak of,” Armando said with a shrug.
Uneasy with his answer, Vanora dropped her eyes from the gruesome mask. She couldn’t read him at all tonight. It was if he was closed off in every way from her. The gulf between them was so vast she began to wonder if she had imagined all that had transpired between them. Struggling to start a conversation, she floundered through her wildly churning mind.
“You know when I first saw you in the grocery store, I sensed danger,” Vanora said abruptly, seizing on the closest thought.
Armando’s head jerked toward her. “What?”
Realizing she was sinking into mire she wasn’t sure she could extract herself from, she continued, “When I saw you the first time in the grocery, the word danger went flashing through my mind.”
Armando’s golden gaze was penetrating. “Really?”
Vanora nodded, rubbing her lips together nervously. The night had taken a bad turn. She fought against the need to flee. Forcing a lighthearted quotient into her voice, she said, “Oh, I suppose it’s because you are a vampire. I usually get this weird fluttery feeling when vampires are close by. Alisha thinks it’s because vampires are predators.”
“Yet, you didn’t feel a fluttery feeling around me, but danger?”
Cursing herself for even saying anything, Vanora nodded miserably.
Armando held her a little closer, bending his head to hers. The long black beak was eerily close to her face. “And what do you feel now?”
Vanora lifted her gaze and stared into his amber eyes. The tendrils of her power stirred as she concentrated on casting them out about her.
Danger!
She drew her breath in sharply.
“What is it?” Armando demanded, his grip tightening on her.
“Let go!” Vanora gasped, her eyes wide.
“What is it?” Armando persisted.
Vanora hastily jerked free of his grip. She spun about, looking for Alisha and Roman. To her horror, the room appeared to have transformed around her. The costumes no longer seemed amusing and delightful, but grotesque and mocking. Menacing shadows danced about on the walls, the ceiling, and the floor. Were they all truly cast by the revelers, or were they menacing wraiths? Alisha and Roman were nowhere to be seen. Vanora whirled toward Armando, her long hair falling from her chignon. Her instincts were screaming at her to flee. Gathering up her skirts, she ran from the room.
She was halfway down the corridor when Armando caught her and spun her about. “Vanora, don’t ever flee from a room full of vampires!”
“Why not?” She felt as if her skin was crawling wit
h a thousand insects. All she wanted to do was escape. Wrenching free of his grip, she shrank away from him.
Snatching off his mask and hat, Armando’s handsome face came into view. Rubbing his fingers through his hair anxiously, he said, “Because it excites the predator within us.”
Vanora gulped and lifted her hand to her neck. Beneath the fancy fake diamond necklace she wore was the chain that held her mother’s cross. Apprehensive, she lightly tugged on it. “Why do I feel danger, Armando? What aren’t you telling me?”
Armando dared to reach out and brush his fingers over her cheek. The sensation was surprisingly soothing. “I don’t know, Vanora. Perhaps because it’s Halloween. The pagans say it is a time when the veil between the living and dead is very thin and the dead can pass over to visit their loved ones.”
It was difficult for her to not gaze into his amber eyes. She craved to understand him, to know why she was so inexplicably drawn to him. “Is that why you’re dressed like a plague doctor? Because you’re Death?”
“No. Because it was the only costume I had in my closet.” Armando flashed his charming smile. “I barely met my deadline and didn’t have time to go out and purchase anything new. I wore it in Venice a decade or so ago. It’s authentic.”
The tension between them dissolved as the disquiet that had gripped her earlier dissipated. “Armando, why did you keep looking at Carlotta?”
“Because she’s unpredictable.” Setting his hat and mask on a decorative table, he slightly shrugged. “I’ve kept her away for a reason. I knew she’d either mock Roman, or fall for him.”
“And that makes you…” Vanora lifted her eyebrows.
“Concerned. He’s my friend.”
Vanora felt the tight bands of tension around her chest relax. “You’re not in love with her?”
The startled laughter that erupted out of the vampire sent waves of relief crashing through her.
“Heavens, no! Never!” Armando shook his head, his curls bouncing. “No. No. Absolutely not.”
Pressing her hands into the filmy folds of her dress, she sighed. “I just didn’t know what to think.”
In Darkness We Must Abide: The Complete First Season: Episodes 1-5 Page 26