A sinister smile surged on his face.
“You did it. You killed him...” he mused. “And now, you must kill me, Ivan. I cannot do it myself and believe me, I have tried! See my burnt skin, sunlight has not destroyed me! It only burned and spread pain through my body... But you can do it. You must kill me!”
“What are you saying?!” I took a step back, horrified by his words. “I would never do that! Not to you!”
Unthinkable! Killing him would have been the same as killing my own father, and God knew I’d had the chance to do it, but even then, I’d refused!
“If you have any sympathy left in your vampire heart, you will destroy me.”
“Impossible! I will not do it,” I said. “Why do you ask this of me?!”
Rinaldo drew closer. “Because,” he said under his breath, “I am tired of killing. I would have my life back if I could, but nothing can ever give me what they took from me... Don't you see? I have lost everything!”
Bloody tears rolled down his cheeks as his head hung low.
I moved closer, not knowing what words to say to give him comfort.
Within seconds, he grasped my neck with firm pressure. And lifting me once more, he slammed my body against the stone wall. The shock pained my back but vanished swiftly. His face drew near. The pair of sharp fangs loomed beneath his lips.
“Kill me right now... or I will kill you!” he roared with an unearthly voice.
His grip tightened around my neck. I struggled to breathe. And for the first time since I had reached this island, panic took over me.
I stared into his blazing eyes, and with barely any breath to speak, I uttered the words.
“Never!”
Without releasing me from his perilous grip, Rinaldo grunted as he clenched his teeth. I had exhausted his patience.
In a vicious roar, he tilted his head back and his mouth widened enough for me to see the fangs brighten under the moonlight as he moved closer, ready to plunge his lethal bite on my neck and tear it to pieces.
This is it. The ride has ended. It's been fun.
21
This is The End
My eyes shut close, ready to receive his attack, when quite unexpectedly, he released me from his grip. My body banged hard against the floor and in the darkness, my preternatural eyes only perceived shadows that moved too fast for me to precise into a single shape.
I heard the sounds of struggle. A sharp screeching scream cracked the darkness in half. And then, silence.
From the pouring banks of fog oozing from the fields, his tall figure emerged. His hazel eyes gleamed after the kill. He ran his fingers through his mane of dark blond hair and sighed heavily.
The minute his shadow loomed over me, I held my breath. With widened eyes, too cynical to believe what lay before them, I recognized his face. Relieved and happy to be alive, I relished on the sight of him... until I saw the thing pending from his clenched fist.
Rinaldo's head.
Dripping blood as he held it by its drenched locks of hair, Master Bianchi's severed head fixed its eyes straight at me, lifeless and vacant, yet stricken with horror.
“What have you done?!” My hands slipped on the pavement behind me, appalled, as I tried to stand on my feet.
He frowned and tilted his head to one side. Raising his hand to eye level, he stared at the bodiless head for a second, and then tossed it away as if it were nothing.
“You would have done it too,” he said. He wiped his hand clean on his breeches and offered it to me. “Either way, he would have died. Had you done it yourself, regret would have engraved in your heart for all eternity... I did it for you, Ivan. I spared your heart from grief.”
I took his hand and rose from the floor. “You're back,” I said.
“I am, for now.”
“I'm glad to see you, Dristan.”
“I'm sure you are...” He hinted a mischievous smile. “I'm glad to see you too.”
I dusted off the dirt from my clothes as we moved away from the gravesite, into the old town square.
“Bianchi—he was one of us,” I said. “The Blood drove him mad!”
“Indeed, he was one of us, as you say. But it was not the Dark Blood what drove him to this extent, but the pain and his bonds to his mortal loved ones.”
Bianchi could not bear the thought of a life without his wife and child; perhaps he had tried to endure it for the last few years but found it useless.
I hid my hands inside my breeches' pockets as we reached the dock.
“At least he rests in peace now...” I mused.
Dristan stopped and peered into my eyes. “I admire your certainty, my young fledgling...” he said. And upon consideration, he added, “I might even envy it a little.”
“What do you mean? Has his spirit not eluded all damnation? Has he condemned himself to the pits of hell?”
“I know nothing of heaven and hell, child. And I've been around for a thousand years.”
His words shocked me.
“But... then...?”
His hand reached for my shoulder and his soft press gave me comfort. “Do not despair, Ivan. I've known the peace the grave conveys, and I can assure you, peace is what has hold of him now.”
“I can only hope that's true.”
“Think no more of it,” he shrugged. “Come. Let's go.”
With undeniable weariness, his body plummeted on the green velvet-lined armchair before the hearth. His muddied leather boots overlapped one another over the stool before him, and as his arms crossed behind his neck, a sensuous smile drew on his lips—Dristan's sharp fangs remained concealed. The kill had livened up his complexion. His blushing cheeks and the slight tan of his skin turned him into a most alluring sight, and for a moment, he seemed human—not the frightful vicious killer that carried Bianchi's head by its hair.
“You're happy to be home?” I whispered as I moved towards the quadrifora.
“Home?” He raised his brow. “What is home, but a safe roof and a pile of bricks? I tell you, I have met such safety in the most sordid dungeons, cemeteries, and caves even...” He paused as his eyes ran a quick glance across the room. “But yes, if I were to call any place home, it would be this.”
And such was the answer of one who claimed to be a thousand years old... The entire concept eluded my understanding.
“Ivan, you're here! Never disappear like that again, I beg you!” Her flowing gown of royal blue velvet ruffled as with hastened steps she moved across the room's threshold. Her welcoming hands reached for mine.
I pressed her small delicate hand against my lips. “I'm here now,” I whispered, then I rephrased. “We are here.”
It struck me as odd that Alisa had not detected Dristan's presence; I could only assume it was my maker's design or preference to conceal it.
By the corner of her eye, Alisa took one glimpse at Dristan's muddied boots as he sat before the fire. I held her hand and brought her closer.
“Dristan, allow me to introduce—”
“We have already met, have we not Miss?”
Alisa nodded gravely.
“But, when was this?” I said, baffled by his response.
Her hand clasped over mine, and with the same sullen expression she turned to me and spoke.
“We met earlier, this afternoon... after you left.”
“That's right,” he said, without moving an inch from his comfortable posture. “It was her pristine voice what led me back to Venice... Your name echoes in her mind like no other creature I've ever known!”
The blood rose to her cheeks, but not out of shame or embarrassment. If I knew Alisa—and I did—Dristan's presumptuous demeanor caused her more than idle irritation; her clenched jaw attested to that and more.
“I only care to know that you are well,” she mused and her eyes fixed on mine as if Dristan's words had never lingered in the room.
“I am, Alisa.” I smoothed my fingers on her cheek.
“Good.” After taking one deep b
reath, she recovered her poise. She slipped her gloves on and straightened her gown's skirt. “I'm quite famished. I'll see you later, darling.”
Her tender kiss landed on my lips and as she withdrew from this gentle farewell, a faint smile appeared on her face.
The minute the palazzo's gate clanked shut behind her, Dristan got on his feet and joined me on the balcony.
My gaze drifted at the Grand Canal's darkening waters. The peaceful dance as they rippled against the embankments held me in the most delicious trance where I escaped the dreadful scene of seeing my old instructor… dead.
Dristan's hand pressed my arm as he stood beside me. “This... This cannot be, Ivan,” he murmured. And I knew what he meant. He spoke of her.
“I had no choice—”
“There is always a choice!”
“You would have me be alone for all eternity?” I whispered. “You, my maker who walked away the moment you turned me into this thing? What did you expect?”
He remained silent for a while, pondering my words. They caused a heavy blow to his heart, or at least it appeared to me that way.
“You're right. I should never have left you so soon,” he said. “But this must be remedied.”
“What are you implying?”
“She's not meant to be part of our world—”
“That is out of the question!” I slammed my hand on the balustrade. “If there is a price to be paid by my mistake, then I shall pay it. Not her!”
“Calm yourself, I beg you.” Weary, he patted my back. “We'll talk about this... tomorrow.”
“No. We'll talk about this right now,” I said. “You owe me this!”
Dristan tilted his head to one side as he stared at me with bewilderment. “Never, in a thousand years, has a single soul dared speak to me as you do now that has lived to tell the tale.”
His scolding words did cause me shame, and even frightened me a bit, but not enough to ask his forgiveness.
“I need you to say it,” I mused. “Say she will be safe.”
“I could not bear it if our paths were sundered because of this simple disagreement. And tonight, I find myself a most generous Father,” he raised his brow as if surprised by his change of disposition. “If this will give you peace, then I shall never harm your offspring while I live. You have my word.”
“That is all I ask.”
22
The Hero’s Call
Sunsets drifted on the horizon over and over; night after night, we led a peaceful life in Dristan's Venetian home. I had always trusted him. I had placed my life in his hands the night he turned me into the creature he envisioned. In that wretched lake where my brother drowned, he had saved my life and soon after, had given me another one.
His word, I did not doubt. His promise was true. Alisa, Dristan, and I kept a quiet life, and though fairly independent from each other, it amused me to believe, from time to time, that we grew more into the likes of a family... my dark, precious family.
A knock on the door pulled me out of my abstraction.
“Yes?” I said. “Come in.” It struck me as odd that either Alisa or Dristan would care enough for propriety that they would announce their presence with such a mortal gesture.
I turned around while remaining on the chair and fixed my eyes on the door as it slowly opened. Through the narrow gap, a young man peeked into the parlor. His eyes, widened and naïve, glared at his surroundings with much astonishment as if it were the first time he observed such luxuries.
His full pink lips parted for an instant but no sound came through. So, I took it upon myself to help the poor creature.
“Are you lost?” I said. But what I really wanted to say was, “Who are you and what are you doing here?” Nevertheless, the former worked just fine.
Seeing I had already acknowledged his presence, the trepid creature opened the door fully and stepped into the room, clasping a letter tight in his hands. I could tell by his expression that something about me intrigued him—not an uncommon thing when a mortal first lays eyes on a vampire.
“Forgive me,” he said. Finally, some sensible words, I was beginning to believe he was mute. “My name is Ricardo Ricci. I am the new footman, signore.”
I raised my brow. “I was not aware we had any—”
“This is my first day, signore...” he mumbled. “He told me I could start today.”
This sounded like something Dristan would do, indeed. My eyes ran through his soft wavy brown hair and rosy cheeks; he was quite young, perhaps no more than twenty.
“Well, then that's decided. Have you any questions?”
He straightened his black livery and regained his poise. “No, signore, grazie. He told me all I needed to know.”
Did I make him nervous? I gave a hint of a smile.
“Do you have something for me?” I enquired with a soft voice, taking notice of the envelope in his hand.
The boy blushed. I could see how he could have misinterpreted my words, but still... it amused me. I thought he rather liked me.
“Yes, I—I have this letter, signore. It arrived this morning.”
This morning? Had he been here all day? What was his name? Ricardo. Strip that shyness away and he would make a most appealing subject... Oh, Dristan knew how to choose them.
I took the letter from his trembling hand. His strong heartbeat raced the minute my fingers brushed his. This was much too fun. I could see why Dristan preferred to keep mortals as company—even if they were servants.
Come on, Ivan. End his misery.
“Thank you. That will be all.”
The boy bowed and backed to the door, closing it behind him.
“What do we have here?” I mused as I held the envelope to eye level.
It had been years since I had received a personal letter, and by the looks of it, this was no missive related to financial matters. Who would even care to write? Who even knew of my whereabouts, for that matter?
That last question set my nerves on edge.
I tore the envelope, extracted the piece of paper fast, and began to read.
November 13th, 1699.
Dear Lord:
It is with a heavy heart that I dare scribble these lines, but my sense of duty compels me to inform you of such events that have followed upon the matter that you once so graciously bestowed on my expertise.
As I am sure you have already known for years, I have settled my practice in the Eternal City. The Venetian air never suited me well, and Rome appealed to a wider range of clients in my line of work.
But let me be brief, if you will pardon my bluntness.
A week ago, it was appointed to me that I follow the case of a robbery. The perpetrator had snatched a woman's necklace right off her neck and set to flee, but was caught by a few honest citizens who delivered her then to the authorities.
The woman in question has been imprisoned. But I believe I have substantial evidence as to procure her freedom.
The offender of whom I speak has no means to cover the expense of the arduous task this would entail on my account, as she is orphaned and unmarried.
At this point, of course, you must wonder why this should concern you. But I believe when you learn that the woman's name is Valentina Bianchi, you will come to understand the reason why I have decided to make this known to you.
If the matter still appeals to your interest, I leave here the address where you may send my fee in Rome. If it does not, however, then please feel free to dispose of this letter and be as kind as to forgive my boldness in investigating your address and writing this missive.
As always, I am at your service.
Yours sincerely,
Andrei Scorzo.
I read the letter twice before I could grasp its entire contents.
Scorzo, the labyrinthine lawyer, had surged from the entrails of the earth after our last encounter more than twenty years ago.
And now this news.
Could it be true? Valentina, imprisoned, an orphan
?
Scorzo's shrewdness had refined with the passing years, no doubt about that. Not only had he discovered my whereabouts, but he had also learned of my condition of Baron—this I knew because of the manner of his letter's address, “Dear Lord”.
Scorzo's knowledge of my change of status rather appealed to his pockets, not to his heart. The man cared little for Valentina's fate, I was sure of it.
Valentina. Alone in the world. An orphan.
Rinaldo's severed head and its dripping rivulets of blood sprung into my mind's eye… I had to do something. I owed him that much.
I folded the letter and placed it in my breeches' pocket after leaping out of the chair.
“You're in much haste,” she mused as I met her in the courtyard.
With a fine brush in her hand and a canvas before her, Alisa was depicting a compelling picture. It was that of the Venetian sunset, a more than familiar face to me by now.
“I am, dearest. I'm leaving.”
“What do you mean, 'you're leaving'?” She abandoned her painting and rushed to the gates by which I stood. The tiled floor of red porphyry roundels captured her exquisite reflection as she moved.
“Where are you going, Ivan?”
“To Rome. I must settle some affairs. I will not be away for too long, I assure you.”
“You know I cannot bear for us to be apart... Let me go with you.”
I smoothed my hand beneath her cheek and pulled a lock of hair behind her ear. Alisa's sweet countenance mesmerized my senses. And for a moment, I feared that if I considered my plans a minute longer, I would never leave her.
“Not this time, my love.”
One quick kiss and I dashed out the gates of this palazzo and into my journey.
Imposing in spite of its dusted rust, the old Lion brass knocker honored its purpose. I struck it three times, and the sound echoed inside the small townhouse with such resonance that it seemed vacant.
I waited for a little while before I reached again and knocked three times more.
Written in Blood: A New Adult Vampire Romance Novella, Part Two. (The Unnatural Brethren Book 1) Page 14