Tears of Blood (The Blood Chronicles)

by Tamela Quijas

  “You’re in shock,” he stated calmly, the scent of sandalwood embracing her as it radiated from him. He leaned in close, until his face was merely a few inches from hers, their brows nearly touching. “If you look into my eyes, I can make the fear leave you.”

  “I’d love to,” she snapped sarcastically, moving away from the unspoken enticement he exuded. She stepped further back, the rough edges of the wall lining the alley digging into her back as she attempted to avoid him. Fury rose in her, fueled by her outrage over the evening events, and she struggled to gulp down the bile rising in her throat.

  “Then, look at me.”

  “There’s a problem with me doing as you ask.” Meghan’s response was mockingly sweet.

  “What problem?”

  “If you haven’t been able to figure it out yourself, I’m blind!”

  “For once, count your lack of vision as a blessing, dolce mia.” He whispered ominously, the fleeting sensation of his knuckles brushing against her cheek.

  Chapter Four

  “I see you’re still as narcissistic as ever.”

  The familiar voice startled him, as did the hand on his shoulder. Guiltily, Amado slammed shut the hardback he was reading, his brows pulling low. His finger remained positioned between the pages he was glancing at before the interruption, his intent to return obvious.

  Exasperated, his gaze fell to the man at his side. He assumed it was useless to hide the title, The Great Lovers of Silent Hollywood emblazoned on the cover. He raised a brow and his expression changed to one of marked irritation.

  Instead of fueling the expected reaction from the individual interrupting him, the man laughed. His gaze flicked over the vampire, and a teasing smile glowed in the orbs. There wasn’t much Amado Gianni could do to cause his friend for the last half century to walk away and leave him in peace. Although, Dominic Delaneaux knew the vampire wouldn’t demand his space, not if he’d made it a point to attend his wife’s book signing.

  He lowered his hand, the action methodically slow as he peered at him, expecting a response.

  “I despise it when you appear out of nowhere.” Amado muttered.

  “I didn’t.” The interloper protested with a stifled chuckle. “You know I’ve been here the entire time, or you wouldn’t have come. You loathe crowds, as much as I do.”

  “I trust, someday, you’ll learn it’s not wise to sneak up on me?” He questioned tersely.

  “Do you ever think, maybe, I torment you on purpose?” The man countered with a smirk, but his thoughts drifted as he scanned the classically handsome features. Dominic could distinguish the pain radiating from his extraordinarily mottled eyes, coupled with an underlying rage that could explode without a moment’s notice. Fragility was an illusion and, although Amado appearing almost breakable in his handsomeness, he understood how lethal the younger vampire could be.

  “I have one…associate that finds it amusing to torture me in that fashion.” Amado retorted sourly. “I don’t need the only person I consider a friend doing the same.”

  “You should know by now to keep your ears and eyes open, Amado. Someone of our predisposition can’t afford...”

  “Perhaps I want to end my so-called existence.” Amado growled sincerely.

  The man shrugged, unconcerned by the sullenness he detected in the vampire’s retort.

  “So, instead, you hang out at brick and mortar bookstores?” There was a hint of apparent sarcasm lacing the comment. “Do you believe you’ll meet your end surrounded by lovelorn romances and the latest best-selling thrillers? Do you believe one of these avid readers will drop their coffee and leap for you, stake in hand?”

  Amado granted him a complacent glance bordering on extreme boredom.

  “Could I not wish?”

  “You can’t be serious!” Taken aback, Dominic’s expression reflected his amazement.

  Amado frowned, the inky darkness of his brows drawing over his sultry orbs. To Dominic, the vampire exuded an age-old charm, exemplified as he lifted a well-manicured finger to his throat and straightened the collar of his shirt.

  “My change wasn’t in the most exotic of locations.” He shrugged and looked around the vast room, eyeing the numerous book-lined shelves and patrons. “Why could I encounter the devil in a place more entertaining than the crumbling VanderLyn Hotel?”

  The man grunted.

  “The VanderLyn was all the rage in your day, a virtual palace as hotels were concerned. I find being transformed among the art and fine champagne, far superior to meeting my end in a brothel in downtown New Orleans.”

  The cynical observation made the vampire grimace.

  “What I’d give to have been changed in a den of iniquity, by the hand of a delicate blossom instead of Declan Balthazar’s corrupt touch.”

  The comment caused the other to snarl, his face darkening and the golden color of his sloe-shaped eyes to flash.

  “Don’t mention that abomination’s name aloud!”

  Amado lowered his head, sensing the censure and the disgust radiating from his compatriot.

  “Your history with Balthazar goes further back than mine, does it not, Dominic?”

  He glanced upwards, knowing of the secret the vampire held, which even the celebrated author was ignorant.

  “More than you can imagine, Gianni,” was the gruff reply, the edge of irritation leaving the other vampire’s smoky tones.

  “Tell me,” he began, his curiosity obvious. “How do you manage to shake the nuisance of his haunting presence?”

  “I fled Declan’s clutches nearly a century ago.” Dominic Delaneaux shrugged expressively. “However, I had what you didn’t, though.”

  “Ah, yes, I imagine you did. I suspect you had the conscience not to dine on the innocent?” Amado’s face became hard. The tarnished shade of his golden eyes flashed accusingly as he ran his fingers through his black hair. “I didn’t have the tutelage of Anthony Vale guiding me in this new world that hungers for the blood of humans. I was left alone, struggling in the streets of a strange town, ripped apart by my damnation.”

  Dominic stole a glance at the vampire, wanting to shake his head for the pity he felt, and knowing he couldn’t display the sentiment. Amado would find the emotion an insult, and his rage would be intense.

  “Please, change the subject. I don’t care to speak of our joint history with that unsavory being.”

  Amado complied, sensing the unease lingering beneath Dominic’s glib command. Lowering his face, he cringed as he felt the all-knowing eyes of his friend slide to the book, the bright gold inscription calling out from the ebon cover. Feigning nonchalance, he shrugged.

  “First you accuse me of being narcissistic and negligent, and then you choose to fault me for my reading taste?” He smirked as he counted the accusations, his fingertips tracing the lettering. “I begin to wonder if your wife is making you read too much into a person’s actions, Delano.”

  Finally, Dominic’s smile reached his gold-colored eyes, set in a face women found interestingly appealing. He looked intently at the once great actor, marveling at the strange coloring of orbs staring back at him.

  “I’ve many faults of my own, Gianni. I suppose, you can charge the newer ones on my wife.” He shrugged indifferently, scanning over the heads of the numerous patrons of the bookstore. “I’m certain Genevieve will be more than pleased to take the blame. Hell, in fact, she might use the information to her benefit!”

  Amado’s smile broadened at the mention of the stunning redhead holding a special place in what had been his heart. If she’d existed during his human life, he’d have sought her out, and claimed her for his own. Fate had stepped in, though. Dominic was the victor, and she adored the vampire she called her lover, her life, and her reason behind joining the ranks The Brotherhood.

  “She imagines a potential story in daily events, does she not?”

  “Genevieve always has, it’s the way she is, as you know.” Dominic sighed, but the action lacked any sig
n of remorse. Instead, there was a love struck issue in the sound, and Amado found himself full of envy. “If she isn’t dreaming the plot to her latest romance, she’s stuck facing the computer, pounding away for hours on end.”

  “Are you complaining?” Amado's brows rose. “If you’re dissatisfied, I can always…”

  “You can put a halt to those feelings!” Dominic snarled anew, but the sound contained an undertone of great pleasure. “She loves me, despite my faults and idiosyncrasies. I can assure you she’d never have you, or tolerate your theatrical ways.”

  Amado inclined his head, carefully smoothing his features as his glance shifted to the cap of flaming hair that commanded attention among books and readers. Even after the passage of the last ten years, he recalled the fleeting taste of the woman’s mouth, moments before saving her life.

  “Perhaps not, Delano, for I’m one of those odd sorts…”

  “Odd?” Delight filled the word.

  “Fine, I admit I’m more than peculiar!” Amado remarked halfheartedly, and a wry smile twisted his lips. “I demand attention, and she’d steer me to madness.”

  “Trust me,” Dominic managed. “You learn that living with an author can either drive you to lunacy, or you mold and become accepting of their eccentricities.”

  “She’s as obsessed with her writing, as we are with our libations?”

  Dominic chuckled aloud, the warm sound drawing a few appreciative gazes from the women in a nearby aisle. He ignored the open appraisals, despite the fact he resembled the hero on the latest romance novel cover. Amado admired his calm, and his ability to slip into any given situation with a grace Hollywood would’ve envied.

  Dominic displayed uncaring ease as his gaze shifted to the redheaded woman laughing and signing the inside page of her novels for the adoring fans standing in line. Odd warmth occupied his golden orbs and Amado found himself envying the change in the vampire’s appearance.

  “I never imagined you, of all people, attending a book signing.” Amado joked quietly under his breath, ignoring the chilling gaze darted at him. “You, the great Dominic Delano, once the glorious lawyer to the infamous, the vampire that used to avoid cameras, now glories from the attention.”

  “Cameras have changed from our time, as you well know.” Dominic muttered agitatedly. “They aren’t like the versions that erased our image with the ease of a magic wand.”

  “What one would’ve given in the old days to be cursed as we, and visible on film?” Amado lamented aloud. “Many more of our species would have found employment among mortals earlier!”

  “The digital chips are a wonder, are they not?” Dominic grunted, remembering a time when he banned the telling apparatus from his courtroom. In his not so distant past, he couldn’t afford to have his lack of an image threaten his career as a lawyer. Over the last decade, technology had altered everything, including the common fears of the undead.

  “So, now you attend book store appearances with your woman, and you’re no longer concerned with the details of our affliction?”

  “Apparently, as you so wisely pointed out, I’m not. Here I am, with my obsessive compulsive wife, alongside another vampire with a fondness for Hollywood history.” The sarcasm was obvious and Amado had the grace to appear shamefaced.

  “I’m here out of curiosity, my friend.” He stated with great reluctance.

  “What are you so interested?”

  Amado sighed and the golden flecks in his eyes darkened to match the darker chips of black surrounding his irises. Dominic looked closely into the oddly compelling depths, knowing the shimmering shade of gold proclaimed him as one of the elite faction known as The Brotherhood of Blood. The assembly was a select group of vampires who sought to remove the scourge plaguing the streets, businesses, and criminal underworld of the city.

  Nonetheless, the immortals realized an alternate branch existed outside their carefully selected troupe. Just as there was a secretive society existing in the inner circles of the bustling city, a different faction lingered on the tattered outskirts of the vampire world. The Sanctum, an organization created by the vengeful dead of old Europe, didn’t harbor the need for redemption as The Brotherhood displayed.

  The Sanctum thrived on discord, pain, and innocent blood.

  Amado’s background wasn’t as pristine as those select and carefully chosen senior members of The Brotherhood were. Regardless of his need, and desire to make amends for the actions of the past, he held an unforgiving monster deep inside him. The black chips, the glistening bits of iridescent obsidian, revealed the truth of his creation.

  His friend, long ago and earlier in his conception, had committed atrocities against the guiltless. Amado had spilled guiltless blood in his voracious and newly formed craving, intentionally seeking the unwilling and chaste as victims to satisfy his unquenchable yearning. Unrepentant in his hunger, untrained and vicious, and innocence hadn’t meant much as he sought to quench the thirst tearing at his body. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he questioned if Amado truly regretted the lives taken in the early years. A part of his subconscious wondered if he secretly missed the long reaching fingers of the vampires who created the sickening underworld from which even creatures of myth avoided.

  At some point during the last century, intent on seeking those worthy of possible redemption, the fellowship had sought the ex- movie star out. The group’s previous leader, a renowned judge, had drawn the tormented vampire into their fold. Regardless of the protests of his followers, Anthony Vale believed there was a redeemable quality existing in the former actor and lost soul, and he intended to convert him.

  To this day, Dominic wondered if Vale’s decision had been wise. He realized, despite their shared past, a sense of darkness lingered in the man’s ruined soul. , he hoped his thoughts weren’t apparent in the gilded shadow of his eyes, and stared at the sleek black of Amado’s hair. Shaking his unease away, he lifted his golden gaze to the books lining the shelves. He didn’t consider Vale’s choice the act of a foolish old vampire. A decade ago, Amado’s particular brand of acting and understated evilness had granted him acceptance by a mob leader intent on murdering famed romance author Genie Carter. If it hadn’t been for his expertise, Dominic suspected he’d have lost the only woman he ever loved.

  “Tell me, as narcissistic as I am, do I still look the same?”

  Unaware of Dominic’s brooding point of view, Amado lifted the heavy book. Resting the spine on an open shelf, he flipped to a page he held marked with a forefinger. Trepidation filled his tarnished eyes, and his face reflected with overwhelming curiosity. A question lingered on his tongue, but he refused the say a word aloud.

  Leaning forward, Dominic frowned. He was silent, the glossy pages glowing brightly beneath the store’s brilliant fluorescent lights. His full lower lip caught between his teeth as he skimmed the faded pictures of the film star.

  Dominic’s gaze darkened as he scanned the two pages, bursting with images of the Armand Gerino staring defiantly at the camera. The large 10 ½ x 16 ½ pages revealed numerous photos, stills taken in preparation for films once popular with the public.

  Aged and worn with time, the photos were hand-colored snapshots of the actor laughing, and signing autographs. In others, he accepted roses from an adoring fan, and posed next to a sleek and low-slung Duisenberg in 1924. A few movie posters adorned an additional page and, despite the passage of time, the long dead performer elegance remained apparent.

  Leisurely, Dominic allowed a long sigh whistle from his lips. He slid a sidelong glance at the vampire at his side.

  “What brings this on this sense of melancholy?”

  “Perhaps years of walking past mirrors, staring at nothing, but knowing I’m there.” Amado shrugged, the action entirely Latin. “I wonder if I still have the face from my youth.”

  Dominic smiled crookedly, hearing the unspoken misery lacing his words.

  “You, at least, have pictures.”

  “I forget, my friend.” A
mado’s admission was reluctant but gently phrased. “I tend to think we’re of a matching era. I must remember you were changed long before me.”

  “Have we been friends for so long the differences of centuries can be so easily forgotten?”

  He smirked. “Your human self was long gone by the time of my birth.”

  “Our deaths, our births, the dates are nothing more than numbers.” Dominic shrugged indifferently but bitterness tinged his reply. In spite of his solemn expression, he laughed unexpectedly. “Anyways, enjoy your photographs. The decade before the Civil War wasn’t a time when people took pictures of their half-white slaves.”

  “Perhaps you should count the oversight as a blessing.” Amado countered sullenly. Broodingly, his eyes went back to the photographs, his past laughing up at him. “You don’t have your history staring at you from late night television screens, or adoring fans holding costume parties in remembrance of your death.”

  Dominic inhaled sharply and nodded, his gaze fastened to the sepia colored images revealed on the glossy pages. He raised his eyes and stared into Amado’s somber face, before issuing a halfhearted grunt.

  “Personally, you look as ugly as ever,” he grinned as he turned from Amado. “Though, you’ve softened around the edges.”

  Chapter Five

  “I told you, Chesca, I don’t know why you insist on standing in these crazy lines for hours on end!” Meghan chastised, her pleasure stilling the sharpness from the criticism. She sipped at the cup of iced coffee she held, before turning toward the woman.

  “Oh, Meg, don’t give me that crap. You enjoy being in this line as much as I do,” Chesca countered, leveling a well-aimed punch at her forearm. “Even though you don’t read Vivi Delaneaux’s work, I know you buy her books off the Internet.”