DarknessOnThePlains_TheBeginning

by Jayme Malvagio

  Niccolo stared at him for a long moment, shook his head and let out a hearty laugh. “No, forgive me, old friend. Perhaps I was a bit harsh in my rebuttal. How can I make it up to you?”

  “I presume a good hunt is out of the question,” he suggested, wearing a disarming smile.

  He simply stared at him, one eyebrow raised.

  “Then perhaps a play,” he continued, sidling closer. “I heard there is a new rendition of O Locura o Santidad playing in Guthrie.”

  “The play by Echegaray?” Niccolo asked with surprise. “I wouldn’t think a Spanish play would be popular in the plains.”

  “Oh, rest assured, it has been translated for the masses here. It is formally billed as Madman or Saint, but I’m sure they’ve tried to stay true to the original text.”

  “I thought the plays were more for my benefit,” he eyed him with unmasked skepticism.

  “Well, I must admit, they have grown on me,” he replied, shrugging. “And this one in particular has most certainly captured my interest.”

  “Then by all means…” Niccolo extended his hand, bowing slightly. “Lead the way.”

  * * * *

  Niccolo contemplated the play as the curtain slowly drew closed. It was really a story of a moral conundrum. The question posed was whether an imposture, begun in ignorance, and harmful to no one, must be made public once uncovered, even at the loss of all one’s worldly possessions and ultimately, their happiness. He could relate on a larger scale for by his very existence he was an imposter posing as a man and if discovered he would surely lose all.

  Pavlo patted him on the arm, shaking him from his musings. “Well? What did you think?”

  “It was a wonderful—” Niccolo paused as he sensed something amiss backstage. “Did you feel that?”

  His friend was stiff in his chair, head cocked slightly to one side, his nostrils flared.

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” he snorted. “We should go before they notice us.”

  “They are hunting in our territory,” he said in hushed voice, strained with emotion.

  “I’m sure they are just passing through or we would’ve crossed paths with them before now.”

  “Either way, it is imperative we send them on their way sooner rather than later,” Pavlo insisted, his eyes burning with the prospect of confrontation.

  Niccolo closed his eyes, carefully shielding his thoughts as he searched theirs. “I count six of them and none of them yearlings.”

  “It could be interesting,” he said with a wink.

  “It could be risky.”

  “Or it could be risqué.”

  “I’m more concerned with the risk than any monkey business at this point in the evening.”

  “A risk I fear we must take lest we find ourselves imposed upon.”

  “There is nothing in their thoughts that lead me to believe they have any intention of spending more than an evening in the Indian Territory.”

  Pavlo leaned away, eyeing him with a strange look on his face. “Who would’ve thunk it? The Butcher of Sangucina is afraid of a confrontation.”

  “Don’t call me that,” Niccolo growled. “I’m not afraid, I’m just old enough to realize that sometimes using my wits is better than baring my fangs. Now let’s go before they—“

  “Too late,” he laughed. “They know we are here…well, that I’m here anyway, and they are most curious.”

  “Why did you drop your guard?” he asked, rising slowly to his feet.

  “Because you would not and I was bored.” He shrugged nonchalantly before rising as well.

  “If it’s excitement you want, it’s excitement you’ll get.” Niccolo stormed up the aisle and out the front door, Pavlo hot on his heels.

  “Where are you going?” he called out. “They await us backstage.”

  “We are going to the back of the theater and you are going to call them out,” he replied, rounding the corner.

  “I see,” he snorted. “We are still hiding in the shadows.”

  “Don’t be obtuse.” He cast him a sideways glance. “There is a high probability that the introductions will be the only peaceful moment of this encounter. Do you really want to expose our existence to an entire troupe of actors?”

  “The only ones who remained were meant to be feasted upon anyway. We could always celebrate our imminent victory with a feast of our own to do away with any witnesses.”

  “Enough!” he roared. “You wanted to meet our visitors and we will, but I’ll not endanger the lives of innocents for the chance to stoke your ego.”

  “They are actors.” He grinned disarmingly. “How innocent could they be?”

  Niccolo couldn’t help but laugh. He was still smiling as he came to stop in the shadows behind the theater. Staring out over the rolling hills, he quietly thanked God that the growing city had yet to stretch in that direction. No one was within earshot of the secluded spot. That was about to change.

  “Get on with it then,” he said gruffly, waving his hand in his friend’s direction.

  Pavlo closed his eyes, bowed his head and brought his hands together in front of his face. He looked to be in deep prayer. His eyes sprang open and his gaze rose above a smile as he locked stares with Niccolo.

  “It is done,” he said with a nod. “They approach as I speak.”

  Three figures materialized around the east corner, the other three arrived from the west. They paused at the edges of the building. Three men and three women regarded him, blood lust emanating from them in waves. They were dressed in elegant eveningwear, all dyed in varying shades of crimson. The smallest of the males, barely above five feet tall, took a step forward from his group in the east.

  “You summoned us?” he asked in a thick British accent.

  “Yes,” Pavlo answered, stepping out of the shadows. “I am extending you a courtesy. It seems you stumbled across our feeding grounds by mistake.”

  “And who the hell might you be?” a woman called out from the other side.

  He glanced at her over his shoulder. “I’m Pavlo.”

  “Pavlo?” she pressed.

  “Pavlo of Sparta,” he obliged with a slight bow.

  “They don’t have surnames in Sparta?” She snorted.

  “They didn’t when he was born, Nessa,” the leader answered quickly.

  “Is he an ancient?” the other lady asked, eyes wide.

  “No, but I’d dare venture he is quite old,” he replied. “But where are my manners?” He closed the gap between them in a blur, hand extended.

  Pavlo stood his ground without so much as flinching.

  “My name is Adam Chaffey,” he said, shaking Pavlo’s hand before pointing at each of his clan members in turn. “Nessa is that fiery lass over there, the newest of our little family. The two gentlemen accompanying her are Charlie and Tommy. Behind me are Lana and my mate, Annette.”

  The rest of the clan moved to stand within paces of Pavlo, seemingly moving as one.

  “It is a pleasure to meet you, Adam.” He gave a slight bow. “Your name is familiar to me, but for the life of me, I can’t place the context in which I know it.”

  “I’ve been around for a long time,” he said with a smile. “Though not quite as long as you, I dare say I’m fairly close. Perhaps we moved in the same circles at some point.”

  “How large of a clan do you have here?” Tommy interrupted as he eyed him from head to toe, clearly sizing him up.

  Pavlo threw back his head and laughed. “I haven’t been a member of a formal clan in years.”

  “It’s a wonder you can walk,” Charlie laughed.

  One eyebrow raised, Pavlo regarded him coolly. “Beg your pardon?”

  “You must have stones the size of my head, so I can only imagine it must make it difficult to walk.”

  “I’m afraid I still don’t follow,” he admitted, shaking his head.

  “What my friend is trying to say is,” Tommy began. “That it takes a lot of balls to call six of us out here
all by your lonesome and then tell us we are not welcome.”

  “Who said he was alone?” Niccolo spoke softly from the shadows.

  All head snapped in his direction as he emerged to join the group.

  “Very interesting,” Adam said, his head cocked to one side. “I didn’t feel your presence… I still don’t feel it.”

  “I’d hoped to stay out of the conversation, but I didn’t like the direction it was headed.”

  He walked to stand beside Pavlo, hands clasped behind his back.

  “Perhaps we should finish the introductions,” Pavlo patted him on the shoulder. “This is my dear friend, Niccolo Rasetti.”

  Tommy and Charlie simultaneously took a step back while the ladies looked at them queerly.

  “The Butcher still lives,” Adam said softly.

  “This is the Butcher of Sangucina?” Lana asked, taking a tentative step closer.

  “You can call me Nick,” he said with a smile, revealing extended canines.

  “I thought you’d be bigger,” she said, running her fingertips down his chest, twirling a lock of her blonde curls with the other hand.

  “I’ve never had any complaints about my size,” he assured her with a wink.

  “Oh my…” she sighed.

  Charlie bristled, a low growl rumbling in his throat.

  “Lana.” Adam cleared his throat. “Perhaps you should return to your maker’s side now.”

  “Sorry, love,” she said and blew a kiss at Charlie. “It’s not every day that you get to meet a living, breathing legend.”

  “Remember your place,” he hissed.

  She drew her hand back quickly with a gasp, lowered her head and skulked back to his side. Niccolo watched the exchange and let out a snort of disgust. What a shame. She is a powerful being, yet she acts like a whipped pup.

  “The hour is late.” Adam looked to the sky. “Perhaps you could grant us one concession and allow us to feed before we continue on our journey to the west coast.”

  “Oooh, about that,” Pavlo made a sour face. “You see, we are colossal fans of the arts and your choices for the evening could put a serious damper on future plays.”

  Adam gave them a bow. “Then we shall be on our way. It was a pleasure speaking with you both.”

  Nessa stared at Pavlo with unmasked hunger in her eyes. “If you ever get bored, come find us. We’ll be in California.”

  Tommy grabbed her by the waist and guided her away while searing her with a look of disdain. “Gentlemen,” he said curtly with a quick nod of his head.

  They took the air, disappearing from sight.

  “Well now, there is a motley little band of lovelies headed for troubled waters,” Pavlo said, staring at the point of their departure.

  “Yes, I hope they don’t encounter more of our kind in this California. I think if the two yearlings spent more time with other male vampires, things could get… messy.”

  “Only if it’s done properly,” he laughed.

  “Perhaps we should be on our way as well,” Niccolo suggested.

  “We still have a couple of hours before dawn. Would you not rather visit your pet?”

  Niccolo glowered at him. “No, I think we’ve had enough excitement for one evening.”

  He leapt into the air before Pavlo could respond. Pavlo quickly caught up with him, flying so close, their shoulders nearly touched.

  “You know,” he said with a smile. “That Nessa was quite attractive.”

  “Yes, but then they all were.”

  “It’s a shame their makers were so controlling.”

  “Why’s that?” He cast him a queer look.

  “It might have been fun to have a couple of female yearlings at our beck and call for a few nights.”

  Niccolo snorted derisively. “Sounds like more trouble than fun. When was the last time you dealt with a yearling for any extended period?”

  “It has been decades,” he admitted. “But as I recall, I rather enjoyed teaching them the ways of the world.”

  They set down near the mouth of the cave they called home. “Well I, for one, am not ready to once again endure the constant questions and worse, the insatiable hunger the yearlings burn with.”

  “Somehow, I knew you would say that.”

  Niccolo prepared his bedroll before dropping onto it unceremoniously. “Good night, old friend.”

  “Yes, may you have pleasant dreams,” Pavlo said, following suit. “I know I will.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Kanati paced in the living room, the knot in his stomach growing with each revolution. He’d spent the night in his own bed with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company. Today was the day…the day. He checked his attire for the hundredth time since he dressed that morning. He wore a white long-sleeved cotton shirt tucked into leather pants, dyed a deep brown. Multi-colored beads were sewn across the shoulders and chest of his shirt. His calf-high moccasins were nearly the same color as the pants and decorated with elegant beadwork courtesy of Taima. His hair was pulled back and secured by a strand of leather with seven feathers tied into it.

  Even though fall had made its presence known and the air was cooler, he still felt sweat bead along his back. He was worried. Could he provide for her? Could he protect her? Could he give her the life she so richly deserved? He could hunt, fish, could bring her food, but the times…they were changing. The Talwa was transitioning to a monetary society. Sure, Acabo paid him a fair wage to help at the store now, and when the traders came, he always had furs to sell, but would it be enough?

  A thunderous knock at the door pulled him from his self-torture. He glanced out the window; the sun was well on its way to meeting the horizon. It was nearly time, but he was sure he wasn’t late. He had a sudden fear that it was one of the elders come to tell him Selu had changed her mind. Taking a deep breath, he strolled to the door and opened it. Acabo stood there along with several other elders from the tribe. The smiles they wore assured him they weren’t the bearers of bad news.

  “You didn’t think we’d make you take the walk alone did you?” Acabo asked, gripping him firmly on the shoulder.

  “I… I… I am humbled,” he finally managed before lowering his gaze to his boots.

  They escorted him down the hill and onto the main road leading through the Talwa. The streets were silent, void of life. As they approached the Townhouse at the end of the road, Kanati understood why. The entire tribe had gathered there and was awaiting his arrival. The beat of drums accompanied his every step as he entered the vast space between the walls that comprised the community gathering place. He scanned the crowd, searching for Selu. Though a sea of smiles returned his gaze, none belonged to her.

  Cheers and good-natured catcalls erupted near the door and flowed across the Townhouse like a wave. He spun, ready to rush to Selu and pull her into his embrace. He froze, mouth agape, her beauty robbing him of control of his limbs. She wore a knee-length deerskin skirt with a combination of fringe and beads that fell to her calves. Her midriff was bare and her generous bosom was barely contained within a matching halter. Seven feathers hung from her hair and lay in a bundle across her left shoulder. Kanati was sure she had to be the most exquisite creature to ever walk the face of the planet.

  Silence reigned as she met him in the center of the hall. He extended his hand to her and she accepted before lightly kissing him on the lips. The tribe urged them on with another round of cheers.

  Dustu separated himself from the throng and approached them with deliberate strides. When he was less than a pace away, he held out both hands, palms up. Selu placed hers in his right and Kanati the left. Dustu cast his gaze over the masses.

  “We were truly blessed to have Kanati return to his people. Sadly, he returned alone. He has no living uncles. Who among you will stand as edutsi?”

  Acabo stepped forth. “It would be my honor to school their children in the spiritual and religious customs of our people.”

  Dustu nodded his acknowledgmen
t before continuing, “And our dear Selu has lost her mother as well. Taima, do you accept the responsibility of clan mother for the family that is sure to come?”

  She stood beside Acabo. “I will do my best to guide them along the righteous path.”

  Dustu released his grip and took the couple each by the wrist. Pulling their hands together until their palms met. “The sacred grounds have been blessed. The members are eager and agreeable. The ceremony will continue at dusk, but first, we feast. Let the festivities commence.”

  Kanati’s head turned in every direction, trying to make sense of the chaos that engulfed him. It only took a moment to realize it was an organized anarchy. Drums pounded out a steady beat, accompanied by reed flutes and shell rattles. The music was lovely, but when the majority of the people in attendance broke into song, it was nothing short of breathtaking. He felt a lump rise in his throat. Tears burned at the back of his eyes, threatening to burst forth at any moment.

  “Are you alright?” Selu whispered.

  He nodded. “I’m just so proud to be from such an amazing people.”

  A circle formed along the perimeter of the townhouse. A procession moved winder shins as they performed a stomp dance to the beat of the drums. Several of the men made their way to the center of the ring, leaping, twirling and tapping their feet as they displayed their skills in the fancy dance. Kanati gave Selu a quick peck on the cheek before he joined them. He couldn’t help himself. He loved to dance. The music had always moved him.

  The smell of roasted meat broke his attention from his latest display of athleticism. The food had finally arrived. He made his way to the table just in time to accept a proffered cup of mead and a slice of ham. Selu sidled up beside him with a cup of her own, still swaying slightly back and forth in rhythm with the drum.

  The party roared with life, laughter and song. Kanati was having so much fun, the butterflies in his stomach were long forgotten. They didn’t even return when Dustu called for everyone’s attention.

  “It is time,” he said once it was quiet enough for him to be heard. “Prepare the bride and groom for the march.”

  Several men surrounded Kanati and draped a blue blanket over his shoulders as they moved him away from Selu. He gave her a heartfelt smile as he watched the ladies cover her with a blue blanket as well. They took her through the east door, while he was ushered to the west.