A Vampire's Rise

by Vanessa Fewings

  And my hair was sticking up.

  * * * *

  I gave a nod to our horseman that we were ready for our journey to Palos and climbed in, sitting opposite Sunaria. With a crack of the whip and a jolt, the horses trotted off, pulling our carriage along. We rocked as the wheels rolled over the worn cobblestones of the churchyard.

  “Nice church.” I flattened my hair with my palm.

  Sunaria gazed out of the window. “Will you ever forgive me for bringing you over?”

  I rested my feet on the seat opposite. “I never took you for one who’d ask for forgiveness.”

  “You have time with your son.”

  “And time with you.”

  Moonlight shimmered off her dark locks, her perfect, porcelain complexion enhancing her beauty, and her infinite, blue-green irises intensified when her mood darkened, like it did now.

  I held her hand and kissed it. “Let me in.”

  She sighed.

  “Never leave me,” I whispered.

  “Do I detect a moment of weakness from my dark lord?”

  “Is that what you’re calling me now?”

  “A new life deserves a new name.”

  A thrill coursed down my spine that she’d allowed me access to her thoughts, even though it was fleeting. “Lord of the underworld?” I repeated her silent words.

  “My immortal beloved,” she said, “My Orpheus.”

  Chapter 29

  SET THE PROVERBIAL FIRE and step back.

  Observe the destruction of Felipe Grenaldi’s political career and his impending downfall. I pondered how our plan unfolded upon the high seas, impatient for it to be over with.

  Sunaria, however, had remarkable patience, a hint of her longevity. She’d found us a residence near the Ocean View Manor. I delighted in her find and had been more than pleased to take refuge in luxury.

  I was done with cobwebs.

  The great house was nestled within a naturally formed alcove. Inside, the décor paid homage to decadence. The previous residents had adored all things French, their expensive tastes evident in the fine furnishings. It was the consummate hiding place.

  Sunaria and I continued to bond and my dependence on her was transforming into an intense love. She bewitched not only me, but everyone who came into contact with her. Elegantly, she conversed with strangers in their own language. She’d even mastered Welsh. Her worldly knowledge and the ease with which she faced each night also reflected in her maturity. Other women seemed sheltered compared to her.

  Sunaria couldn’t shake off her old ways, much to my delight. Up until the moment she’d slaughtered her master she’d been a perfect slave. By the time she reached adulthood, she’d been groomed to satisfy every one of her master’s needs. She thought first of her lover’s desires before her own. A natural nurturer, she delighted in spoiling me.

  I’d find myself standing naked in a hot tub of water, leisurely bathed by her, or she’d present a victim, still surprised by my squirming. Confliction still came easily for me.

  Sunaria’s talents as a lover left me breathless. Her easy access to my thoughts ensured awareness at the deepest level of my psyche, thus she understood me. She calmed my fears and satisfied my yearnings.

  I’d wake to find my clothes laid out on the end of our bed. She chose the most distinguished of outfits for me to wear. I delighted in the rare books she left for me on the bedside table and I devoured them all.

  I was obsessed with her.

  With my passion came a desire to fulfill her every need. Perfect lovers, unchanging, we tumbled through time, two inseparable nightwalkers drunk on their desire for each other. We’d mingle with high society, enjoying hunting amongst the privileged. Women offered themselves to me willingly and men would surrender all too easily. I had to tame my ability to cause havoc in rooms full of mortals, not only could I walk on consecrated ground, I could also seduce anyone. I’d stand in the center of a room and marvel at the crowd that gathered, all eager for play. Sunaria insisted that her royal blood had bestowed my unique gifts.

  Here in our lavish bedroom, I lay on the four-poster bed and watched her dress, a dark goddess of the night. I savored her voluptuous figure moving dreamily before me. Again, as on so many occasions before, she disappeared into the night. Her habitual leaving me alone seemed to be her way of intensifying my fixation. I’d lay back, staring up at the ceiling, fantasizing about what I’d do to Sunaria upon her return, and then lure her back with my erotic imaginings.

  Our endless infatuation with each other heightened our mutual dependence—my new life balanced precariously with my old one.

  Not ready to face my sister with the whole truth, for fear of her rejection and dread of losing Jacob, I kept up the façade.

  Miranda hovered close, a constant reminder of a promise I’d once made. I’d managed to delay her request, but wasn’t sure how long I could hold her off. Expensive gifts and a great deal of flirting seemed to placate her, but I knew it would only be a matter of time before she demanded my dark kiss.

  By October, Miranda and Alicia had settled into their new life.

  Although still in hiding, we all had a sense of impending freedom. They both trusted my ability to deal with Felipe and, though the details were rarely discussed, they showed remarkable faith in my handling our affairs.

  During my frequent visits to their house, I savored spending time with Jacob. We hired distinguished tutors for the boys. Their lessons promised to establish them into high society. Alicia would very often complain that I kept Jacob up late. I’d smile and shrug, avoiding Miranda’s critical stare.

  Ricardo’s unruly temperament became troublesome and I often had to pull him off Jacob, his jealousy a frequent cause of the fights. Although I tried not to show Jacob favor, this wasn’t easy. Ricardo, a troubled child, needed a father’s discipline. Where I could, I tried to help Alicia raise him, but Ricardo reminded me of my past and I’d not yet forgiven him. Having experienced firsthand Ricardo’s swordsmanship, weapons were banned. Of course Ricardo had no memory of impaling his uncle. For me however, it was impossible to forget.

  Lessons in horsemanship were permitted. With my heart in my throat, I’d watch proudly as Jacob steered his pony over the small gates. I secretly spoiled him, taking him out for long walks and delighting in our precious time together. I found solace in seeing Annabelle in his character. Even Jacob’s patience reminded me of her. Very often, I’d marvel at his ability to grasp ideas quickly and his kindness extended to those in need. He’d stop and offer a coin to a beggar, not thinking twice about offering a word of comfort or a kind smile.

  Ricardo, however, would often be found outside play acting sword fighting, taking on an invisible opponent, stabbing yet another victim to death.

  I would watch Jacob sleep, and at times had to be dragged away by Sunaria, who had snuck into the house to get me, minutes before daylight. The next evening, I’d be back again, witnessing my son flourish, wanting him to have everything that I never had.

  One late evening, I found the strength to tell Jacob about his mother. He gazed down at Annabelle’s image rendered perfectly in the left side of the locket that I’d removed from her neck soon after her death, the silver chain dangling.

  “You can keep it if you like.” I closed the clasp and tucked the memento into the palm of his small hand.

  Jacob squeezed his fingers around it and silently mouthed a prayer for the mother he’d never known.

  Through him glimmered the hope of my salvation.

  Chapter 30

  ON DECEMBER 6TH 1493, the Niña clashed with disaster.

  Its mast snapped in two and the vessel almost sank. Experienced sailors managed to salvage what was left of the damaged mast and the ship continued on, but as a result of the delay, it became separated from the two other vessels.

  Two days before, Felipe had requested a transfer from the Niña to the Santa María, and tragedy soon followed. The shipwrecking of the Santa María, just off the Ca
ribbean, was more evidence of sabotage.

  Three months later, on March 15th, Columbus returned to Palos on the Niña, with its fixed mast. Felipe Grenaldi, also aboard, waved to the crowds, happy to have survived. His expression of delight to see his homeland soon faded when the king’s guards arrested him on his disembarkation and charged him with mutiny.

  Columbus was shocked to hear that the man he’d befriended had been accused of treachery.

  A late evening trial enabled Sunaria and I to attend. We sat at the back of the courtroom, hidden by the crowd that clamored for a good view. Dumbstruck, Felipe had no idea who’d set him up. The journey halfway across the world had aged him and he’d lost weight. New worry lines had appeared and the old ones were more defined.

  Vincente Yanez Pinzon testified that Felipe had joined them at the last minute, insisting that he represented the king. Although Pinzon had initially felt suspicion, the royal warrant given to him by Felipe was stamped with the official crest of his majesty, and King Ferdinand had personally signed it. The document, meticulously forged by myself, was now presented by Pinzon to the court.

  During the voyage, Felipe had requested he leave the Niña and join Columbus on the Santa María. Felipe had claimed that he had important information for Columbus and the transfer had been permitted by Vincent Pinzon.

  Felipe boarded the Santa María a mile from Haiti, or as Columbus preferred, Hispaniola.

  Soon after, the Niña’s mast snapped, causing no real issue for the ship, other than a rattled crew. Suspicions arose, but the journey took precedence, and with no time for an investigation, the expedition continued on. Despite Felipe’s protestation of innocence and his previous alliance with the king, the court case proceeded and more evidence came to light.

  Firstly, the letter addressed to the king was examined and confirmed to be written in Felipe’s handwriting. Next, the knife found on him was the size of the very one used to saw through the mast of the Niña. The king’s investigators had discovered Felipe’s secret room, tipped off by a local source. Other papers were discovered. More condemning still was evidence that Felipe had practiced the King’s signature and had in his possession a forged royal stamp, which was undeniable proof of treason.

  Felipe’s once tanned complexion now paled as the judge proclaimed that the evidence decided his fate.

  It was done.

  * * * *

  Back in the living room of our French styled home, I stared out of the window. Melancholy, my new acquaintance, was brought on by my inability to find any kind of relief in Felipe’s undoing.

  My thoughts had been so consumed with revenge, that I’d given little thought to our future. So caught up in the drama, I’d avoided the real challenges ahead.

  I considered that my altered emotions resulted from my transformation. My capacity to love had not changed, for I felt the same for my son as I always had. I’d also developed a deep affection for Sunaria, but this ability to murder and feel less guilt than before surprised me. I even feared myself, or should I say feared what I could become. Felipe had led me here. These were the consequences that followed that night in the bull ring, my last night of innocence.

  I hoped that Sunaria would remain by my side and together we’d face the future, the ultimate unknown.

  Sunaria allowed me the illusion of control.

  Looking out at the impending dawn, I wondered if I’d ever accept not seeing a sunrise again. Until now, I’d never given much thought to the profoundness of daylight, the colors that only a sun could sustain, exquisite hues now lost to me.

  “Carpe Noctum,” Sunaria’s voice came from the corridor.

  I turned. “Seize the night?”

  She lingered by the door. “You may lose the day but gain so much in return.”

  “Like?”

  “Always looking young.”

  I laughed bitterly.

  “I don’t like seeing you like this.” She wrapped her arms around me.

  “Why don’t I feel some kind of vindication?”

  “Because you need answers.”

  “It’s incredible that Felipe fell for our ruse.”

  “He believed what he wanted to.”

  After a long sigh, I said, “How do I move on?”

  “You prevent the inner ghosts from getting to you.”

  “And how do I do that?”

  “You face your demons.”

  “My demon is lying in a prison.”

  “I know you better than you know yourself.”

  I spun round.

  With my heart in my throat, I followed her, ascending the stairs. We headed for the rear bedroom and, sensing something was off, I trailed after Sunaria, glancing at her expression.

  I had an uneasy feeling as I turned the corner and entered the room.

  Felipe was crouched low, unshaven and bedraggled, his once white shirt now crumbled and filthy. He was chained to the fireplace.

  I leaned against the wall. “He was to be hanged tomorrow!”

  Felipe’s hollow stare tried to focus. “Impossible.”

  He seemed such an unlikely enemy, and yet this man had decimated my world.

  “But . . . they . . . buried you.” Felipe’s voice was flooded with fear.

  I almost smiled at his reaction. “Most unpleasant.”

  Felipe shook. “Impossible to survive that.”

  “How was your trip?” I neared him.

  “You set me up.” He yanked at the metal cuff and pointed to Sunaria. “I should have known you’d have something to do with this.’

  “She makes a fine gentleman, don’t you think?” I scowled. “Consider this your confession.”

  “Where’s my son?” His voice broke.

  I folded my arms. “Whose idea was it to kill my brother?”

  “I’ll take that to my grave.”

  “It was you, wasn’t it?” I said.

  He stared from Sunaria to me. “Witchcraft?”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  “I’ve lost everything because of you.” His voice broke.

  “Why thank you.”

  He grimaced. “But my men buried you.”

  “I’m pretty resilient.”

  “No, you’re something demonic.”

  “Time to take responsibility for what you created.”

  “Unchain me.”

  I trespassed into his thoughts. “Start talking.”

  “Not until—”

  “Talk!”

  He flinched. “Ricardo caused a rift between Roelle and his father.”

  “Go on.”

  “Not until you promise to let me go.”

  “I promise to wrap that chain around your neck.”

  “Señor Bastillion wanted to adopt your brother, give him what belonged to Roelle.”

  “Was the bull your idea?”

  Felipe’s smile was defiant.

  “You named your son Ricardo, why?” I asked.

  “Ricardo was a brilliant bull fighter, the best.”

  “And yet you murdered him.”

  “So you say.”

  My fists tightened.

  “Your brother stood to inherit money from the Bastillion legacy,” he said. “He threatened Roelle’s birthright. His father favored Ricardo, he saw his potential. Your brother reminded Señor Bastillion of the old days when he’d once been crowned as Spain’s greatest bull fighter. Roelle paled in comparison to Ricardo’s talents.”

  “What did that have to do with you?”

  “Roelle promised to fund my political career.”

  “My brother threatened that?”

  Felipe glanced at Sunaria and then back at me.

  My stare forced him to look away. “And Aaron?”

  “Aaron was misguided.”

  “You sent him to kill me?”

  Felipe tugged, trying to pull his wrist out of the metal cuff.

  “And Roelle?” I said.

  “Roelle wanted to keep you quiet.”

  “You w
anted him to kill me?”

  “Then why didn’t he?”

  “That’s what you couldn’t understand.”

  He turned to look out of the window. I could smell his fear.

  I followed his gaze. “I imagine they’re searching for you, yes?”

  He shrugged.

  I tried to subdue my hatred, fearful that I’d kill him too soon. “It was you who planned Ricardo’s death?”

  He yanked at the shackle. “Where’s my son?”

  “Have your political achievements been worth it?”

  “And what do you have to show for your life? A mere horse breeder?”

  “Ask me in a millennium.”

  His eyes widened.

  I smiled. “Yes, I am.”

  He barely formed the words.

  “Forever and ever, amen.” I bowed.

  He stared at Sunaria then back at me. “Vampires.”

  “And capable of more love than you can imagine,” I said wistfully.

  “A weak emotion.”

  “You love your son.”

  “He has yet to earn it.”

  I glanced at Sunaria. “And I’m called cold blooded.”

  “Your soul is damned.” He spat at me.

  “Just like yours.”

  “You’re not going to kill me.” Felipe leaned back against the fireplace.

  I tilted my head and felt a sense of calm.

  He cowered. “I’m Ricardo’s father.”

  “Were.”

  “Is it money you want?”

  “I remember everything.” I nodded. “The night before the bull fight.”

  “What?”

  “You were holding the cudgel.”

  He looked horrified.

  Sunaria approached Felipe. “Or we can offer you something else.” Her fingers traced his unshaven face and then moved lower and hovered at his neck, lingering there.

  “Make me into what you are?” His eyes were full of terror.

  Sunaria gazed coquettishly at him. Filled with envy, I stepped forward, but her hand shot up and she gestured I was to stay put, and then she turned to face him again.

  Felipe had caught our interaction.