"Follow that woman!” Antonio grabbed a soldier and shoved him toward the woods. The men leaped on their grazing horses. “Go that way. Hurry!"
The mounted men raced toward the woods where the woman disappeared, but she and the baby boy were gone.
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Chapter 6
Antonio disappeared into his library and summoned Catherine.
"You will help me,” he said. He didn't care if she came willingly or not—his wishes would be met either way.
"Yes, sir.” Catherine obeyed. “You really must eat something."
She set the tray down on the desk and took the thick book from Antonio's hands. Her simple maid hands seemed more comfortable with the literature than her master's, and he took the time to show his superior position.
"My body is in godly condition.” Antonio reached for his book back. “Eating that fattened boar will only hinder my health."
He stood, stretched to his kingly height, and put the book on the shelf. Still, the top to bottom books and knowledge seemed to tower over Antonio. The leather volumes almost grew in stature before him, and he did not like it.
"Well put, sir.” Catherine poured some milk from the pitcher on the tray. “At least drink some milk?"
Antonio pulled a small book off the shelf and sat back down behind his desk. He took the glass from Catherine, arched his neck, and drank the cool milk. He brought the glass down, but Romina stood before him.
What magic has corrupted this milk?
Antonio blinked and looked at the empty glass, then back at the figure in front of the desk. So fair in her youth. Innocent—before death. Before birth. Before Antonio entered her life.
She wore Catherine's clothes; Catherine's hair flowed out of the cap. But Romina's face!
"Sir?” A voice echoed around Antonio's head. “Sir?"
"Antonio?"
He blinked again, and Catherine stood beside him “Forgive me, sir. Are you all right?"
She took the empty glass and filled it up again.
"No. I've had enough.” Antonio wiped his hand across his brow. He let precious few into his nature, but he focused before his servant. “Open the window, please."
She opened the window and then sat down by the desk.
"I'll read aloud as usual, sir?” Catherine opened the small book.
"Not just yet.” He stepped to the window. Somehow, he felt things weren't quite as usual. The creaks of the wood were not in his step. His breath did not fog the weathered window. “I need some fresh air."
Antonio looked at the fountain in the courtyard. He stared at the bare pedestal surrounded with the black half frozen water and thought of the statue once there.
It was an ugly statue, anyway. Imagining my own statue is better.
He looked at the balcony where the fair Romina once stood. How old she looked in her death. The balcony door, however, opened and out stepped the young and beautiful Romina. This new Romina looked down on the water just as she had so many months ago.
"How?” Antonio looked back at the fountain. The water was again blue and lily pads again glistened on top the rippling water. The statue of Gaston on his rearing horse rose from the pedestal fresh as its first day.
Antonio shut his eyes and opened them again. The rearing marble horse still reared, and the gallant Gaston was still perched on his stone steed's back.
"No. This cannot be. Romina is dead! Gaston is dead. I pushed him out my bedroom window!"
Catherine opened her mouth to gasp but only made just enough noise to hear.
"Get out.” Antonio grabbed Catherine and pushed her toward the door. “Get out now!"
He ran back to the window, but Romina was still there and so was the statue. Antonio turned away.
They aren't there. When I look back no one—nothing will be there!
He slowly turned, the very wind seemed to stand still in his ears. His breath was quiet, but then small chipping sounds came from the center of the fountain. Antonio watched pieces of marble break off and fall into the pool. The marble around the horse's legs crumbled, and the steed put its front legs down on the pedestal. Antonio trembled.
"I am imagining this. What I see can't be true!"
The stone sheath on the raised broadsword chipped and cracked away until the sparkle of a silvery blade shone through. The hardened stone broke away from the marble steed's fine tail and left the shining hair exposed. More and more brown rippling muscles were exposed before Antonio.
"No. No.” He cried. “I slaughtered that horse to the bone. Fed it to the bulls. No, that horse is dead!"
The stone bridle was now leather. The eye encasements broke off, and the dark ambers beneath blinked. The legs in the stirrups broke free of their stone confinements and jabbed into the horse's sides. The horse leaped off the pedestal in one swift motion. The leap released the stone mask from the rider, and Antonio glimpsed the face.
"No. He is dead. Dead. I killed him!” Antonio fell to his knees and put his face in his hands. “What is this trickery?"
Antonio heard the horse's hooves coming closer and closer.
The familiar hoof beats engulfed him. It came from outside, yet it rumbled deep inside his ear. Never before had such a harmless sound seemed so rife with the seed of evil beckoning beneath. Nor had Antonio ever felt so alone. Who could return his mind to childhood upon the sharpening stone?
"Stop.” Antonio's eyes grew bloodshot and glassy. “Stop this. Who are you?” Romina and Gaston, seeking retribution from beyond the grave?
"What do you want from me?"
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Chapter 7
Antonio sank lower to the floor and listened to the hooves growing ever so near. Another sound mingled with the hooves as the horse continued to approach. Antonio raised his head.
Footsteps? They sound like the footsteps of a man.
The footsteps grew louder and louder. He heard them come up the stone steps and march down the hall. Each step pounded as if the weight of eternity was behind it. The steps pounded down the hall and stopped on the other side of the door. A loud booming knock with the same eternal force came down three times, and each echoed with the previous. One. Two. Three.
Antonio opened his mouth to refuse entry, but no sound emerged. The door burst open with a supernatural force and broke one of the rusty and simple hinges. Blast Henry and his crummy castle.
"You dare call me, and now refuse my entry?"
"Called you? I have not called you.” Antonio looked at the darkness surrounding the figure, yet it was afternoon. “I have no need for dark trickery."
"Recognize me?” The figure stepped into the light.
Antonio pointed his shaking finger at Gaston. “You're dead. I killed you eight months ago!"
"Time is of no relevance to me."
Antonio covered his ears. “You want to avenge yourself? Go ahead!"
"Forgive me,” Gaston said. “Perhaps you like this voice better?"
Antonio looked up at the once again lovely Romina. How could this trickster appear as who it willed?
"No.” He stood. “You're dead, too. I left your body to rot on that splintered table!"
"Body is of no relevance to me. Small females, males of all sizes.” The dark marvel widened into the stature of Antonio's father. “It's all the same to me."
"Now, you are playing tricks on me.” Antonio crossed his arms over his chest and leaned on the solid bookcase. “I know you're dead. Do you know how long it took me to chop your body to pieces?"
"You are wise in your conquests, but foolish in nearly everything else.” The mysterious shifter molded himself back to Gaston's appearance. “You act overconfident in your abilities because you are a coward inside."
Antonio grew angry and stood square. “Even if—and I said if—I am a coward, I was still strong enough to fling you out the window."
The Gaston incarnate stepped within inches of him. No longer able to jest, Antonio could on
ly shift nervously and blink.
"You think you amuse me?” The new Gaston laughed, then stopped. “You don't."
Antonio looked into Gaston's eyes, but he was compelled to look away. The eyes were not the dull grey of the old Gaston, but...
...Different. They are just different.
The impersonator ran his fingers across the desk's detailed woodwork, sat down, and put up his feet. Antonio crossed his arms again.
"Do you do that when you're nervous?” He teased, and Antonio let his arms hang uncomfortably at his sides. “Just like everything else—a flattering cover up."
"I am still the King of these people. They know fear is real.” Antonio crossed his arms.
"Not all of them.” Gaston chuckled. “You can't even read all these books. And who taught you your letters? Oh yes. The maid!"
"I can read them.” He slumped into the chair in front of the desk. Whatever had befallen here, Antonio knew one thing—he had been put in his place at last.
"There is no avoiding the subject, Antonio.” Gaston added an extra sting. “Ann and Elizabeth know it. Your quests for power impress them not. But, you do have your uses."
Antonio perked up. Who or what this creature was, he did not know. It was power, and power wanted him.
"I have a proposition for you."
* * * *
Antonio didn't know how much time had passed. Had day turned to night? Did anyone wonder what had become of him? His visitor spoke long, and Antonio paced back and forth in front of the window.
"Let me see if I understand you correctly.” He counted the reasons on his fingers. “You think I'm weak. You think I'm a coward. You don't even like me, but you want me to do your dirty work for you?"
"Whether I like you or not is beside the point,” the Gaston model said from behind the desk. “You have promise and are perfect for the job. No more petty battles won or lost on mortal standards. Real power, Antonio."
"Why?"
"A mutual benefit. You will do the job without guilt or conscious."
"What exactly is this job?"
"I told you,” He repeated. “You help me, and I'll help you. But first,” he pulled a small, black booklet out of his shirt, “you must sign your name here."
Antonio looked at the tiny book as Gaston flipped through to a blank page.
"Do you always look like that?” He dared to question beyond his visitor's offer.
"Oh, I forgot,” Gaston said sarcastically. “You dislike this appearance."
"Change your face again,” Antonio said, “and I might consider signing."
The smile on Gaston's face whipped away, and a shifting occurred. The body slendered, and the face became smaller. The dark hair lightened to a blonde mass, and the grey eyes turned blue.
"This is what the females like best."
"Thank you.” Antonio sat down before the desk and silently looked at the book. With the ghostly specters gone, this face seemed charming, even haloed. He was somehow irresistible. The new blonde boy turned the book to Antonio.
"What happens if I sign, but do not like your offer?"
The blonde marvel smiled. “That is a chance you have to take, but I think you will like it."
I like this boy, now that the image of Gaston has been swept away. He is a deceptive and charming little devil, is he not? This charisma is quite similar to my own.
"Narcissus."
Antonio broke from his thoughts. “What did you say?"
"Narcis—never mind.” He nudged the book closer to Antonio.
"Hmph. Am I to receive no more persuasions from you?"
"You have your persuasions."
Antonio reached for the quill and ink and shrugged his shoulders. “I am damned anyway."
The marvel watched him write a crude A. Welshire at the top of the page.
"There.” Antonio set the quill and ink aside. He looked up at the blonde boy and his large smile. “I have not had the honor."
"I am known by many things and by many peoples,” the fair-skinned man said. “My favorite is Mestiphles. Just rolls of your tongue, doesn't it?"
Antonio bowed. At last, someone worthy of his best! “I am at your service."
"Very good, then.” Mestiphles rose from the chair and took his black book. “First, you will have a few tasks to test your worthiness."
"Tasks?"
"Relax. You will complete them, and I think you will enjoy them, too.” He flipped through Antonio's book, then shut it and continued. “You are angry with Ann, yes?"
He stared at the wall. “She accused me falsely, and it will be difficult to forgive her."
"You care not if she knows of your murdering, but accuse you of kidnapping and one is exiled from your sight.” Mestiphles snickered. “So, if you had to choose, it would be Elizabeth?"
"Depends on what I'm choosing her for. I've no reason to harm her."
"Marriage."
He looked up at Mestiphles. “Why?"
"You need not merely take what you need of women.” Mestiphles shrugged his shoulders. “This sort of thing can get boring after a few millennia. You do find her appealing, admit it."
"Hmph.” Antonio was tight lipped.
"I need disciples, Antonio.” Mestiphles admitted part of his plans. “Your children will have the power to make more disciples. More and more will join us until the world is overrun with people more to my liking. You will have these powers, too, of course."
"How long will we do all this?"
"Forever.” Mestiphles sat back down and put his feet on the desk again. “You and your disciples will never die, only multiply in number."
"You taunt me, Mestiphles. How would we sustain ourselves?"
Mestiphles smiled. “When you hunger, you will know what to do. Each person will take the power differently, add their own style to it, but all will feed the same. You know ... I could give you a sample right now."
* * * *
"Catherine?” Antonio's shadowy figure stood at her door. The tiny flame shortened in a clump of wax as the maid looked up.
"Yes, sir?” She set down her quill. “You sound different, sir. Are you ill?"
"Yes.” He stepped toward her. “I need your help."
The dim light shined in his face, but he couldn't see. His eyes felt bloodshot, and his hands seemed pale as the candle flickered. He put his hands on Catherine's arms. She felt warm to his cold touch. Sharp teeth cut the inside of his lips.
Antonio's voice trembled. His hands shook. “I need your help."
"Of course, sir.” She put her arms on his, but Antonio shook and felt the muscles of his forearm clench. “What can I do? Here, sit down."
His arms came around her waist. Antonio heard her blood rush and saw her face flush. He put his head down on her chest. She trembled, but held Antonio's head.
"So overwhelming!” He spoke more to himself than Catherine. His words and hot breath were muffled against her. “Now I know what Mestiphles meant. I know what to do. I need to do it. I have to have it!"
"I'll get some water.” Catherine was about to get up, but Antonio clenched his hands tighter around her.
"No,” he said hoarsely. His nails dug into her sides, and she winced. Antonio relaxed his grip, and she allowed his hands to roam. He unlaced her dressing gown. His hands stopped shaking, and appearing bewitched, Catherine gave him total control. He pulled the loosened gown off her shoulders and swept her to her feet in one swift motion. Yes, he knew she was captivated, paralyzed. He could be so frightening, yet masculine and desirable. Antonio put his head to her neck and bit the pumping jugular.
She flinched, but her blood flowed into Antonio's mouth. The short life drain was ecstatic, but soon grew empty. Her life was now in him.
Antonio let Catherine's limp body fall to the bed. He had her, and now he wanted more.
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Chapter 8
20 years later
Despite the magnificence of the castle, its small and shabb
y barn was just that—yet troops patrolled its shack diameters. A soldier turned a rounded corner and marched past the barn. He neared the open doors, but a black, towering horse leaped and reared in front of him. The soldier tumbled to the ground, and the black beast hurled through the air and off through the field. Laughter bellowed above the horse's massive footfalls. Beneath the long flowing black mass of hair sat a fair young girl on top the bare horse. She was her father's daughter.
"Victoria. Come back here. Victoria!” Elizabeth Welshire cried for her daughter from the castle window. Stubborn and strong willed, the horse and rider paid no attention to the hail and headed for the woods.
* * * *
The handmade magnifying scope enlarged the view of the Welshire castle. Impish, yet serious, Gaston pulled the lens away from his eye and looked ahead. A few soldiers moved about the castle and patrolled the perimeter.
He leaned back into the crevice of his tree watch point. No family name. Just Gaston. He pulled his blonde hair back and returned the scope to his blue-hued eye. He heard the leaves bristle behind him and sank farther into the tree branches.
"Gaston?” A screechy boy's voice called, “'Tis William."
Gaston smiled and jumped down from the tree. He held his grimace when the soleless cloth around his feet released the ground upon him. He got his balance and stood tall. The leather wrap around his waist gave no marks of clan except that of the woods. The loose white blouse once had sleeves, but they were ripped off at the elbow long ago.
"Everyone has moved to the new site,” William reported. Gaston smiled at the mix of squeaks and accent and handed the loyal boy the scope. They turned away from the castle and marched into the woods.
They walked through the forest quietly. As people of nature, they knew the land well. They came to a trickling stream and followed it to the rushing river.
"What will happen when we overthrow the King?” William looked up at Gaston. He had no father, like Gaston, and idolized him in every way. They weren't sure of their own ages. William was no longer a boy, yet Gaston was not quite a man. Nonetheless, he had become the leader of Antonio's disgruntled subjects.
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