Revelation (The Keepers of the Teardrop Book 1)

by Simone Lari

  "I like my surname; it wouldn’t hurt to use it, just for once."

  "Rule number two: never use true personal details. Furthermore Kelsing is a difficult surname to carry” Jared argued.

  Vans stared into space and his usually glib tongue came to a sudden halt. Gabriel placed a hand on his shoulder and shook it hard.

  "Let’s go and put our things away" he suggested.

  They began to take some of their baggage upstairs, where the bedrooms were located.

  Hitting himself on the forehead, Vans remembered he still had to let Kira free. So he went to get the cage and took it with him to the floor above.

  When he got to the door of his room, he opened it with a hard shove of his shoulder that luckily didn’t pull it off its hinges. He fanned away the cloud of dust with broad sweeps of his hand and hurriedly searched for the light switch.

  He pushed it and a bulb that hung solitary from the ceiling flickered on.

  "The light works!” he yelled so Jared could hear him on the floor below.

  Resting the carry-cage on the bed with its worn stiff blankets, he went to the window and opened it to let some air into the room and have more light. The jambs creaked a bit, but didn’t put up too much resistance.

  He noted with pleasure that the view, at least, was not bad at all.

  Jared’s chalet was a few miles from the center of the town, but it was completely surrounded by lush trees and thick vegetation.

  For the first time since they had arrived, Vans smiled briefly, until a long centipede walked over his fingers.

  "Aaagh, how disgusting!" he burst out shaking his hand.

  "Oh come on, you fight against creatures of the night, and you’re afraid of insects?" Gabriel mocked him from the doorway.

  "I’m not frightened of them, they disgust me, and it’s different."

  "Whatever the case, a break won't do us any harm, yes, we really do need one."

  "Don't tell me that you’re going back to your good boy scout routine: helping old darlings cross the road, giving up your seat on the bus, and, above all, going to church regularly."

  "No, you know I stopped doing that a long time ago" he replied gloomily, "but I always help the grannies to cross the road and I willingly give up my seat for a pretty girl, when I can" he said laughing.

  Vans smiled slightly, then turned his gaze to the horizon and sighed.

  "You know, I used to come here when I was little and I still hold some nice memories of it."

  "Really? Well, that’s not so strange, after all Jared is your uncle."

  "It's weird, though. It’s damned weird to be here without my mother, without my father..." He swallowed, clenching his fists.

  "You have me and Jared, we’re your family and we love you" he replied, about to give him a hug.

  "Hey, come off it! You know, don’t you? Too much affection: I’m allergic to these things."

  Gabriel punched him on the shoulder.

  "I know, I know: it's all show."

  He returned to his room to put his things in place, and shortly after Jared’s voice came from the stairwell.

  "Ah, I almost forgot to tell you that Lynn will be here shortly and she'll be staying with us for a while, I’ll explain better later!”

  "Good!" answered Gabriel.

  "Nooo!" Vans moaned, "That’s all we needed!”

  He finally decided to release the cat which timidly began to come out a little at a time. It moved its whiskers sniffing the air, and looked carefully around.

  It put its right paw out of the cage, and then with some difficulty due to both the narrow opening and the absence of the left paw, finally got out and scampered onto the bed.

  "Hmm, she seems calm; at least there are no ghosts or strange things around” Vans noted, relieved.

  He approached her and gently caressed her on the head and under the chin.

  "Don’t tell that grumbler Jared that I let you on the bed. It will be our secret, understood?"

  Chapter 3 - Christopher and Sting

  A flaming red sports car, with dark tinted windows, zipped along the driveway in front of an old colonial style mansion. The gravel on the ground was tossed away by the wheels as they slipped.

  The sun was close to setting, but a deep splash of orange light still peeped over the tops of the trees.

  With a sudden turn of the steering wheel, the car stopped close to the entrance.

  Some pebbles shot onto the side of a black sedan, it too with tinted windows, scratching it, and others had no concerns as they crashed against the radiator of a Harley parked a short distance away.

  Three deep pumps on the accelerator, followed by the same number of roars of the engine, and then it was turned off.

  A boy with red hair combed back, wearing heavy dark glasses, a black leather jacket and tight jeans hurriedly got out of the car.

  Pulling the hood over his head, he grabbed a container for the transport of biological material from the passenger seat and slammed the door closed, then went to the front door which in the meantime had opened wide.

  Thin smoke began to hover around his figure.

  On the threshold, the boy, chewing gum with his mouth open, turned toward the dying sun offering a self-respecting middle finger wrapped in a dark glove.

  A strong arm with a firm hold clutched him around the shoulder, pulling him inside.

  The massive door closed with a dull thud; the light smoke quickly faded away.

  "Sting, you're still as stupid as ever" stated a tall and robust young man, with black tousled hair.

  "And you, Christopher, are still the perfect little person, hardworking and wet blanket!" he replied contemptuously.

  "Abraham is about to wake up, did you get the bags of plasma?" he asked sharply, avoiding to respond in the same tone.

  "Of course, here they are: lovely and fresh. Ugh!" He showed him the white container with a disgusted grimace.

  "It's useless making this scene every time. This is the method we’re using to nourish ourselves now, so get used to it" Christopher snapped at him and, pulling the container from his hand, walked to the lounge adjacent to the entrance.

  An impressive flight of stairs in dark wood opened to the upper floor, flanked by two finely inlaid handrails.

  "The redhead has arrived, at last” came bitterly from a girl in a tight dark dress at the top of the stairs.

  "Alyna, darling, you're so pale. Next time you should go and procure breakfast for the old man: a lovely suntan would do you good but don’t become too crispy for me" Sting answered with biting sarcasm.

  The young girl replied with a mocking sneer then looked at Christopher who with a fast and graceful step reached her quickly. He was about to go past her, but she stopped him placing a hand on his chest.

  His deep black eyes dived into the light blue, almost white eyes of Alyna.

  The same hand descended provocatively to his abdomen, and then dared to continue, fearless and desirous, downward.

  Christopher looked at the smug little smile on her face, that suddenly became an annoyed scowl when, with an abrupt gesture, he brushed away that inappropriate contact before it could get to his groin.

  She reacted by pulling the container from his hand as she argued: “I’ll deliver the plasma to Abraham; you know that he doesn’t like eating with you there."

  She went towards one of the rooms on the second floor. Christopher watched her as she went until, feeling his eyes on her, she stopped.

  She opened the container, and some thin cold condensation arose from it immediately, not causing her any discomfort. She then took out two bags of plasma and carefully threw them into his hands.

  He nodded at her almost imperceptibly and descended the stairs, as she disappeared into the darkness of the corridor.

  When he joined Sting, he handed him one of the pouches. "Here it's your ration."

  "I wouldn’t dream of it, handsome. Don't you know what day is it today?”

  "It’s Saturday, t
he twenty second of February, to be exact" he replied, barely hiding a little sneer.

  "Bravo, mister calendar. And do you also know what happened to yours truly, exactly two hundred years ago, during a glorious night?"

  "You finally lost your virginity, perhaps?”

  "No, I’d already lost that a long time beforehand. I ascended to my status of vampire."

  "Well, best wishes then. Drink!" he urged him offering him the pouch again.

  "No way! Tonight we’re going out to get some warm blood bubbling from the smooth skin of a beautiful young girl. I have no intention of drinking this frozen custard crap that’s only good for transfusions."

  "We can’t do that, you know that very well."

  "Look I don't want to kill anyone, I just want to feed myself properly, tonight at least" he said with an imploring look. "And the desire for blood is not the only thing I want to satisfy…" he added winking.

  "Let’s make a pact: you drink your ration, now, in front of me, and this evening I’ll take you to a place of your choice" proposed Christopher.

  "Done deal!” exclaimed Sting, grabbing the bag of plasma and sinking his canines into it.

  His face transfigured slightly, the irises dilated and the rims turned crimson red; his expression became grim and tight.

  His face returned to normal, acquiring even more color as soon as he finished feeding himself.

  Christopher did the same, as Sting dried his lips running his tongue avidly across them.

  "Abraham wants to speak to you!" announced Alyna from the upper floor.

  Sting rolled his eyes annoyed, and Christopher pushed him out of the room.

  They joined the girl upstairs and together they went to the elder.

  Even though the whole house displayed the rich splendor of times gone by, the salon was certainly the most well-maintained and characteristic room.

  Paintings depicting pitched battles and ancient manor houses dotted the walls. An imposing fireplace, more decorative than useful, towered along the east wall. Heavy carpets of masterly interwoven design decorated the floors.

  Antique and elegant pieces of furniture, perfectly intact, were artfully arranged in the room.

  Completing the furnishings was a large leather armchair with a rectangular shaped table in ebony in front of it and three chairs, whose rigid and austere appearance was a perfect prelude to their actual discomfort.

  Abraham, who judging from his appearance and clothing, was not too dissimilar from a country nobleman around sixty, was sitting motionless in his armchair with his arms outstretched and his gaze resolutely turned toward the door.

  He looked at the pair with his severe probing eyes, and then with a gesture of his hand invited them to sit down.

  "Did you want to speak to us, sir?" Christopher asked politely, as he took the chair in the middle.

  "Hmm" grumbled the old man quietly, nodding and waiting for Sting and Alyna to take their places.

  "I have learned of some alarming news" he stated with a very serious tone. His somber voice resounded in the room like a macabre omen. "A nucleus of the Tremein lineage has been exterminated, at the hand of two young hunters."

  "Is that all?" asked Sting, astonished. "From your tone of voice it seemed like you were going to inform us of some terrible disaster."

  "Sting, be quiet" Christopher reprimanded him with an easy-going voice.

  Reluctantly, under Alyna’s truculent gaze, the young man contained his disinterest.

  "The houses have decided by mutual agreement to organize themselves in small groups made up of an elder and three disciples, precisely to avoid being too obvious and thus attract the unwanted attentions of the hunters."

  "And that's a mistake!" objected Sting. "There’s strength in numbers. United we're strong. Divided, though, we're more vulnerable."

  "In fact the elders of high lineage, not wishing to take anything away from you, sir, reside in well defended fortresses, with a high number of expert disciples and vampires. This contradicts the assumption that separating themselves can be an effective defense" explained Christopher.

  "Exactly. Maybe he said it a little better, but I meant exactly the same thing" Sting stressed.

  "We can’t all live in fortresses, in the sight of the elders of high lineage” Alyna pointed out. "That is a privilege which only a few enjoy, which must be earned. You should be grateful to Abraham for offering us his protection and his precious teachings." She turned to the old man with a look full of false admiration.

  He repaid her with a grateful smile and long nods of agreement.

  "In any case, the house of Tremein deserves extinction" remarked Sting, scornfully. "They are the shame of our species, an extremely limited race, capable only of enlisting the aid of humans as daytime guardians and creating a progeny that is weak and completely subjugated to their creator."

  Christopher observed his friend's manifest intolerance. He knew how much he despised the idea of having to live under the constant control of an elder, and fully shared his indignation for their state of subordination.

  Unlike him, however, he well knew what the benefits were of acting within the rules and the walls of the house: a safe place to live, the protection of his clan and the guarantee of having blood without having to prey on anyone.

  The hope for the survival of vampires that decided to stake as rangers without rules, alone or in small groups as the case may be, was very low.

  The members of other clans or the hunters decreed their premature end. The first, driven by the eternal rivalry between races, attacked anyone who was not under the protection of their own house; the latter because the rangers often fed themselves in the traditional manner, claiming numerous victims.

  "The Tremein were a numerous and powerful ancestral house, and were very prolific. The fact that they now find themselves on the threshold of extinction must make us reflect and exhort us to be cautious."

  "Don't doubt it, we will be very cautious, sir" concluded Sting.

  With an exasperated nod, the elder showed them the door, putting an end to the conversation earlier than expected, but as soon as the young and rebellious vampire took hold of the shining brass door handle, a voice resounded grimly behind him: "I hope, for your own good, that you will behave in the right way, out there. I don’t want to see myself forced to do without your company."

  Without turning or responding, Sting opened the door and quickly went out.

  When the three of them reached the top of the stairs, Sting relaxed. "Hey, for a moment there I thought he wanted to impose a curfew on us, as if we were a bunch of pimply teenagers” he laughed in an attempt to downplay the old man’s admonition.

  "In spite of your almost two centuries of life, you still retain the typical stupidity of adolescents" Alyna said contemptuously, before retiring to her quarters.

  "And that’s the end of her outing with us this evening. I wouldn’t have taken her anyway."

  "Abraham is not entirely wrong. The end of a lineage is not something to be underestimated. It's a sign of the times we live in. Humans are well-organized and progressive, hunters are numerous and are very familiar with our weak points" said Christopher, worried.

  "Listen, Chris, in my opinion you’re very much mistaken! This is a wonderful era for us. Girls love vampires and anyone can look vaguely like them. And have you seen how fascinating and uninhibited they are? It’s just too easy to win them over. And then there’s cinema, television, social network!" he listed ecstatically.

  "You appreciate the twenty-first century far too much, but I still miss the nineteenth."

  "You have to know how to adapt to survive. We should be the example of this saying. Having the privilege of living through the eras and the change in the human condition, being witnesses and judges of it is a gift, a privilege! I'd be bored to death if society didn’t change so quickly with each generation."

  "Perhaps you’re not completely wrong" said Christopher, sighing.

  Chapter 4 - Fe
stivities

  "Once again our very best wishes, dear. Have I already told you that today you're really beautiful? I’d say you’re radiant!" chirped a fifty-something woman, wrapped in a dress that was far too tight, from which merciless rolls of fat overflowed.

  "Yes, aunt, you did tell me, thank you" confirmed Nina.

  You must have said it at least five times, one for each slice of cake that you gulped down!

  "It's time for the gifts!" announced the grandmother, a lean and sprightly lady around sixty with grey hair. "Here, my dear, I hope you like mine."

  "Agatha, you mean ours, seeing I paid for it" grandpa reprimanded her, earning himself a light kick on the shin from his wife.

  The woman gave the birthday girl a parcel decorated with bows and colored rosettes, and a sticker with the name of a well-known boutique.

  Nina smiled, already savoring her grandmother’s present.

  She opened it eagerly, tearing the wrapping into a thousand pieces, as her stunned grandparents and amused mother looked on, while the aunt and her spouse were still engaged in contending some slices of cake.

  George also seemed much more interested in the dessert than his sister’s gift, and thanks to a full mouth he was keeping quiet and well-behaved.

  Clarissa watched the scene with enjoyment and opened her eyes at least as wide as her daughter’s when she took out of the box a black evening dress with rhinestones and a generous double neckline, at the front and back.

  Nina lifted it up delighted then held it against her body to see if it was the right size. The length of the dress, that arrived half-way down her thigh, was perfect for her tastes.

  Dorian, her cousin, looked at her with ravenous eyes, as if the most delicious sweet at that table was no longer a cake, but her.

  "Thank you grandma and grandfather of course. It's gorgeous, really perfect! I’ll wear it tonight; no actually I'm going to try it on right now."

  She hugged her grandparents, threw the box carelessly on the first available chair and rushed to the stairs.

  "Whoops, wait, the gift from me and uncle" the aunt stopped her, spluttering with a full mouth.