by P. Mattern
The Full Moon
of
Charley Rabbit
P. A. Mattern
J. C. Estall
Text Copyright © 2012 by P. A. Mattern and J. C. Estall
All Rights Reserved
To Raven Teu for prescient wisdom, support and sublime input.
To Jeremy Lungi for tireless research and extraordinary editing contributions
My sister Lyn Miner, for always believing, my sons Jeffrey and Marcus for unfaltering support.
In loving memory of Robert Morgan Mattern, Jr., Monica Esme Estall, and Josephine Laynor.
And my genius daughter / collaborator.
Table of Contents
Chapter 01: Present Day America
Chapter 02: Empty Nesting
Chapter 03: Grunt
Chapter 04: Rainy Day Games
Chapter 05: Busted
Chapter 06: Midnight Snack
Chapter 07: Say “AAAAh”
Chapter 08: The Year Without A Summer
Chapter 09: Room 222
Chapter 10: Out Of Body Experience
Chapter 11: When In Rome
Chapter 12: Wine Tasting
Chapter 13: Promotion
Chapter 14: Flying Lessons
Chapter 15: Odd Duck
Chapter 16: Confessions
Chapter 17: Grace Under Fire
Chapter 18: Away
Chapter 19: Arrival
Chapter 20: Advance
Chapter 21: Wind
Chapter 22: Blown
Chapter 23: Dancing / Destiny
Chapter 24: Explanations
Chapter 25: YAYA
Chapter 26: Declaration
Chapter 27: Thrice - Bitten
Chapter 28: Decisive
Chapter 29: Byron’s End
Chapter 30: Reunion
Chapter 31: Denouement
Chapter 32: The Wedding
Sex and eternal life – they’re an unbeatable combination
Frank Langella
PROLOGUE
THE BLESSED DAMOZEL - POMMEVILLE, FRANCE 1114 A.D.
Parmitsvia, less than a half dozen hours before her death, leaned forward across the balustrade to see more clearly the crescendo of fireworks exploding to the East. Pink stars, green comets and golden furls splintering off into millions of rainbow shards made play against the dark eiderdown curtain of the night sky.
It was a warm night, but the marble railing was cool beneath her graceful fingers. To the left, competing with the fireworks display was an immense Chinese lantern of a full moon. Behind her, standing uncomfortably close was her husband, Tancred de Pommeville, a wealthy French nobleman. His fingers were laced around her tiny waist possessively. He leaned over and nuzzled her neck.
“Do you like the Chinese fireworks, Parmitsvia? They are imported from a thousand miles away for your pleasure.”
Other nobles, their wives and courtesans were with them on the huge out - door terrace overlooking a square. In the streets below them revelers danced, feasted on roasted meat and drank wine. The melodious chords of the performing street musicians floated upwards towards them.
“Thank you, M’Lord; it is breathtaking," she replied, though her mind was a million miles away and she fervently wished her body could follow. Retrieving an ornate ebony fan she began to fan herself idly.
An envoy came up to the nobleman and spoke into his inclined ear. Tancred sighed and kissed Parmitsvia lightly on the top of her head.
“My apologies my dear. An important matter begs my attention. But I will be joining you in your chambers later. I desire a third son. You have given me two wonderful sons already but I have decided that it would please me to sire a third. What do you think my love, my fertile vessel?”
Parmitsvia reflexively tensed but managed a genuine enough smile upwards at her husband.
”As it pleases my Lord husband,” she replied.
The Count departed with several members of his court, their heavy boots echoing loudly on the stone pavement of the terrace as they briskly exited.
A maidservant named Careen, the most trusted of Parmitsvia’s servants floated immediately to her side as soon as the Count disappeared from view. She curtsied, then, keeping her gaze discreetly downcast, said in a low voice, "The gentleman is waiting in the far rose garden, madam. Shall I tell him you will join him tonight?”
“Yes”, Parmitsvia responded without hesitation. Her heart began to beat more rapidly at the thought of his proximity. That he should be here on the grounds now! It was dangerous, nearly impossible for her to join him. Careless and reckless to even consider an assignation tonight -- particularly since the count had summarily staked a claim on her attentions this very evening.
But still she knew she would go… even if it meant her severed head. She could not stay away from her lover.
“How much time do we have?” She wondered and schemed as she ran toward the most remote gardens in the back of the castle grounds, not wanting to waste a precious minute that might be spent in the arms of her lover. Above her, the full lantern moon guided her feet on the stone pathways. Carrying a lantern would have been impossibly dangerous. She was grateful for the darkness, and a faithful servant that would come running if her Lord was looking for her.
The hedges were eight feet tall and presented a maze - like trajectory but her feet knew the path to the white rose garden by heart. She stopped just outside the entrance momentarily to catch her breath and listen out for the footfalls of anyone following her. Then stepping between two boxwoods that flanked the opening to the garden she stepped in.
At first she could see nothing but a white marble fountain topped by a trio of naked cherubs, frozen in the act of cavorting, and spitting high, thin streams of water upward into the air that then fell into the tinkling fountain below.
Then in the half - light of the moon she saw him, his face in shadow, impossibly tall, taller than any man she’d ever known. Wild with joy, she ran across the scope of the garden and threw herself into his waiting arms.
“My love, my love," he breathed against her open mouth. Lifting her completely off her feet he held her in his arms, kissing her feverishly. Parmitsvia allowed herself to float momentarily on a cloud of pleasure before she broke away from his devouring lips to say breathlessly, ”We must hurry, my love.”
Their physical union took place in a natural alcove between the wall of boxwoods and a virtual wall of climbing white roses in the back of the garden. She was amazed at how quickly he loosened her clothing so that her pale breasts were exposed to the velvety night air and the moonlight.
“How beautiful you are,” he breathed as he entered the nether parts of her, his lips gently brushing the side of her porcelain neck, deeply inhaling the floral scent of her skin. Her entire body was throbbing and aching for him. She felt as though she were floating outside of herself and being transported to a higher plane. She cried out repeatedly and bit his fingers when they covered her mouth. He didn’t seem to notice, and concentrated on pleasuring her eager flesh. She had the sensation of time passing and wondered if they were taking too long. Afterwards when he was raggedly spent from their lovemaking, he collapsed upon her, his head of dark curls splayed starkly over the luminescent whiteness of her bosom. He seemed incapable of speech.
“Adrastos?” she queried gently, with a teasing tone in her voice, "Have you been slain by love again my sweet?”
Without raising his head he spoke, his breath stirring against her skin. “Yes, I am slain by your charms my lady, my love. And gladly.”
Eventually the couple sat up. Parmitsvia smoothed her skirts, replaced the combs that
had loosened in her hair, and assisted him in dressing also.
He looked over at her with a serious expression. “What I am about to tell you - the secret I am about to tell you - can never be revealed to anyone else, my love. And I risk greatly in telling it, for you may never want to see me again once you hear it.”
Her countenance immediately changed to an expression of concern. "My dearest Adrastos, is there something amiss?” Her heart clenched, secretly fearing her young Lord was about to tell her he was to be married.
“No...” He replied, "But I am not as you perceive me, my lovely Parmitsvia.”
His serious tone, so soon after their lovemaking, confused and alarmed her. His steely blue eyes, seemed particularly intense.
“Just tell me love, whatever it is.”
He dropped her small white hand that he had been holding and his dark eyes bored into hers.
“Parmitsvia, I am a vampire,” he said simply.
She shook her head, as if to clear it. Fear gripped her heart. She had heard stories of vampires; stories of vile cruelty and death and bloodlust, and the man who stood before her was not a monster.
"Surely you are jesting," she said quietly… "This cannot be, for you have loved me well and as any human man. Even better.”
He continued to stare into her eyes, unblinking. "I am a creature of the night, my love. I exist on blood, as a necessity...”
“But you have not bitten me!” she cried, tears forming in her eyes. Whether her lover was telling her the truth or if it was a cruel trick, either way it hurt.
“Because I love and respect you. I would not take your blood’s virginity without your complete complicity and agreement. But tonight I beg you to take me as I am. To allow me soon to drink your blood and change you into a creature also, so that we may be equals…" Reaching out toward her he suddenly gripped her small shoulders. "We will be immortals, Parmitsvia. Lovers forever. And strong beyond all human comprehension. No one will ever be able to separate us again. We will belong to each other for always.”
She became very quiet. He half expected that she would break free of him and run at any moment. Minutes passed, and still she gazed downward into her lap, stunned and unseeing. After what Adrastos perceived as an eternity, she raised her eyes to meet his intense gaze.
“I will join you, my love, and follow you even to the depths of depravity. I will become a monster like you, whatever I need to do to be joined to you. I have often dreamt of having the freedom to run away with you, of knowing real love, of being touched by a gentle hand. My heart has longed for this. Nothing else matters anymore... only you and that you want me to be by your side for eternity.”
At her words he smiled, joyous and relieved, and he caught her up again in a desperately affectionate embrace. Then drew back and spoke to her earnestly.
“Then meet me here tomorrow night. I will make you mine for always and we will depart this place. But I must ask you once again: Are you certain, my love?”
A cloud that had obscured the moon momentarily drifted off just then and her up tilted face shone in its glow.
“Yes, my truest love. The only life I have is the one afforded me by our love. My heart is yours.”
Adrastos held her for one more moment, and then released her quickly, saying, ”Hurry now. We have tarried too long. You must fulfill your last night of bondage. Tomorrow we will be joined together for eternity.”
“Tomorrow", she echoed, suddenly feeling a desperation to hold onto him, but abruptly he took his leave and departed into the shadows.
The path back to the manse seemed longer than usual. Her legs felt weak and her steps felt heavy as she steeled herself to play the part of doting wife for Tancred. She was already halfway back when she realized that she had left her fur trimmed capelet in the garden. She pondered what explanation she would make if it were found.
Panic began to rise in her throat but she squared her shoulders and forced her fears to recede. She was known for taking solitary walks in the gardens at night. It would be nothing if her cape was found; she would say she had gotten warm and removed it and that would be that. After all, she was the wife of a nobleman and answered to no one. Let them gossip. She decided to enter by a side entrance. One of the sentry men on duty bowed to her but did not presume to speak. At a distance she heard the commotion of men drinking; tankards being raised and lowered heavily onto tables, coughing, raucous laughter and the resonant sound of masculine voices raised in debate. The meeting of nobles must be coming to a close. If she hurried she could be in her chambers and have time for a bath.
Silently Careen met her at the door and assisted her in stripping off her grass-stained velvet gown and into a rose scented bath that had been prepared. The water was so warm it stung slightly the parts of her that had received the most fervent attentions of her lover. Careen helped her bathe, then dress in her best bed gown, a layered white gown with an opalescent shimmer that clung to her every curve and was tied closed with a single silken tasseled chord at the waist. When she had finished her toilette, Careen said in an awed voice, "Oh Madame, you look radiant!”
Parmitsvia gazed at her reflection in a long mirrored wardrobe. "...I look like a woman who has known love."
Careen looked down and blushed. "Then I should wish to know such love."
Parmitzvia's heart was still fluttering with excitement and fear, for tomorrow night by this time she would have run off with her lover. She suddenly turned and embraced Careen. “Thank you Careen," she spoke softly next to her ear, "I don’t know what I would do without you.”
A few minutes later Lord Tancred entered the room. Parmitsvia was sitting on a cushioned bench, staring through the huge arched windows at the same full moon that she had made love under scarcely an hour before. Idly she was combing her long dark hair. Seeing her Lord husband, she laid the silver comb on her dressing table and lowered her head respectfully. “M’lord.”
Tancred, dressed in regal velvets, leather breeches and boots, with a wide belt held together by a family crest cast in gold, stared at her, unspeaking for the moment. As she waited for him to speak, his eyes burned into her, and he muttered something unintelligible under his breath, first stepping towards her, and then pausing suddenly as if he were trying to keep his balance.
He was drunk as usual, but seemed uncharacteristically out of sorts.
"What is it my Lord?” Parmitsvia asked in a quivering voice. Fear was beginning to close claw like fingers around her throat. Internally she shuddered. In the short distance between them his anger seemed to grow more palpable by the second.
His eyes, now flinty and cold, locked into hers.
“I said WHORE, Parmitsvia. Yes, YOU, the mother of my children, a WHORE!!”
The icy fingers of fear around her throat clamped off her breathing, preventing all speech. As terror gripped her blood began pounding in her ears.
Without warning Tancred closed the distance between them, jerking her onto her feet in one motion and striking her across the face with enough force to split her bottom lip open. The blow shocked and numbed her as she watched a cascade of blood droplets - her blood - flying up in the air between them as if in slow motion. She was instantly terrified. But he was not finished.
“WHORE!” He screamed again, grabbing a fistful of her beautiful gown at the bodice and rending it down to the floor, exposing her body. Grabbing her painfully by the nape of her neck he propelled her forward as he shoved a furlined piece of summerweight cloth in front of her horrified eyes.
“As you betrayed me this very night, you left something behind, you filthy WHORE!” He bellowed.
"No My Lord! I could never betray you... please don't..." Parmitsvia swayed dizzily and tried to focus on the object dangling in her line of vision. It was her demi-cape, the one she’d left in the garden.
Still holding her roughly by the neck he dragged her over to the huge bed and threw her unresisting body upon it, pausing only to loosen his clothing.
Qua
king now with fear, she thought, 'Maybe this is all he wants, to humiliate me and take me in anger. Maybe he is not certain of my adultery. Maybe he will let me live. And I will survive another night of his torment to leave this place forever with my love Adrastos.'
It was a small enough hope, one that she clung to over the course of the ensuing hours as he took her over and over, squeezing her painfully, biting her and slapping her and repeating vile names until she cried out and begged him to stop.
When at last he seemed to have finished, he collapsed on top of her and began to sob hoarsely and raggedly. Still pinned underneath him, she reached up a tentative hand to comfort him.
Unfortunately her attempt at appeasement had the opposite effect. He became eerily calm, his eyes devoid of any humanity. Squeezing her long white neck between his massive hands, in what seemed a slow - motion eternity, he slowly ended her life. Only as he finally unclenched his hands from her neck did his tears begin to fall again. One of his most beautiful possessions had been destroyed by his own hand.
Afterwards he ordered a secret garrison of his most trusted watchmen to carry her broken body to the chalk cliffs beyond the estate and throw her onto the beach below, to be taken out to the sea as the tides came in.
Before dawn, Careen, her maidservant, had run away, fearing for her life, and made her way furtively to Adrasto’s manse at the edge of the town. A manservant answered her knock, speaking in a sleep-roughened voice. “Go away! The master sleeps!”
Careen placed her foot squarely in the doorway. “You fool! I bring news of an urgent nature! Your master will want to be awakened.”
At this, the manservant reluctantly allowed her to enter. Adrastos appeared a minute later, fully dressed, as though he had never retired.
Reaching out he grabbed the quaking servant girl. "What news of my lady? Tell me quickly!”
He found his answer in the weeping servants mute, distraught expression and said explosively,
“Is she hurt? GONE? How?”