Gently brushing her hair with his fingers, Roman sighed. “I know. I felt the same way about Norma.”
“And I had this insane idea, for just an instant, that I should turn him into what I am. But I can’t risk it. I know how much he loves his life. I used to love the way I could smell the sun on him after he’d been working all day on his artwork out on his patio.” She gestured toward the wine glass stained with the remains of the wine-blood mix. “I would never wish this on anyone.”
“You’re not a selfish person,” Roman agreed. “You have a giving heart. You always have.”
“Sometimes it’s so hard living this way. The hunger…the madness…it’s always there in the back of my head wanting out.”
“I know, Alisha.” Roman wished he could soothe her broken heart, but knew he couldn’t. A lecture lingered on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed it down. She didn’t need his advice on how to pick up the pieces of her shattered heart and focus on her career. She didn’t need him to tell her that she should concentrate on being a surrogate mother to Vanora during the last year of her childhood. He had learned long ago that his natural inclination to solve his sisters’ problems was not appreciated. It was best to just hold them and listen to their woes. Later, he could stealthily help them out without bringing down their ire.
“If I didn’t have you and Snow Pea,” Alisha said, “I would walk into the sun. You know that, right? I couldn’t do this alone. You’re what keeps me grounded and feeling safe. I’m just like the rest of your fan club.”
That brought a slow grin to Roman’s lips. “Does that mean you’ll listen to your dear older brother?”
Alisha snorted, her sobbing and laughter working against each other. “When it suits me.”
Roman wiped her tears away carefully with the edge of his shirt. With her blond hair in messy waves around her face and her eyes swollen, she looked quite pathetic. Frozen eternally at twenty-two, she still had a softness to her face that sometimes made her look like the annoying little sister he had used to pick on without mercy.
“Alisha, I’m here for you. I will always be here for you. I promise it.”
Rubbing her nose, Alisha nodded. “I know, Roman. As much as I sometimes resent your bossiness, in the end, I know you’re the best big brother a girl could want.”
“We’ll make it through this. I promise.”
Alisha curled into his side, resting her head on his shoulder. “I’m just going to miss him so much.”
“I know, Alisha,” Roman whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I know.”
29
March 2007
The banging on the door did not relent no matter how long he ignored the noise. Finally, Armando abandoned his desk to find Carlotta on his doorstep garbed in a short, sassy black and red outfit. It reminded him of a Flamenco dress.
“I’m working on my new novel,” he said shortly. “Lose yourself.”
Carlotta laughed and shoved the disheveled writer aside. “It is only three in the morning. The sun won’t be up for such a long time.” Singing to herself in Spanish, she sashayed across the floor toward Armando’s computer.
“I don’t think you want to--”
She bent over to peer at the screen. “A book about South America.” Carlotta curled her lip in disgust. “Why do you always waste yourself writing about the bastard children of Spain?”
“I’m writing about the Spanish colonization of South America and comparing its influence to that of other countries. People of South and Central America are just as diverse in their bloodlines as Americans,” Armando responded wearily. Taking hold of her arm, he pulled her away from his computer. He didn’t want her fouling up his hard work.
“Americans are the bastard children of the entire world. So what?” Carlotta responded. “Why don’t you write about the gypsies? My great people the gitanos!”
Armando smirked in response as he moved her away from his computer. “You know when I was mortal, the gitanos were considered trash.”
Carlotta’s face darkened with anger. “You high-brow Spanish aristocratic pig, whose genes are so inbred you’re lucky your genitals aren’t growing out of your forehead, how dare you attempt to put down my great family!”
“My genitals are in the right place, as you well know,” Armando responded with a sarcastic smile.
Carlotta yanked her arm out of his grasp and danced away from him. She purposely kicked off her high heels in his direction. Armando caught them and tossed them over his shoulder.
“You’re lucky I’m in a good mood,” Carlotta asserted
“You are?”
Carlotta picked up a vase and hurled it across the room at him. “Yes!”
Armando ducked. The vase exploded against the wall. He glanced over at the fragments, then at her. “Please forgive me for misreading my dear lady’s mood.”
Carlotta scoffed at him and began to yank hairpins from her chignon.
“Do you want anything to drink?” Armando asked as he wandered into his kitchen.
“No, I drank enough tonight. Two lovely French exchange students. I’m going to enjoy having them around for a while.”
Armando whirled about. “You brought them home?”
Carlotta smirked, her fingers playfully tracing her full bottom lip. “You know that I have others besides you.”
“I’ve never been to your house. I don’t know who you have stashed in there.” Armando shrugged. He felt a slight pang of jealousy but ignored it. “I assumed you had others.”
Carlotta just smiled coyly. “And you don’t?”
Armando again shrugged. “Why don’t you ever let me go to your home, Carlotta?” For as long as he’d known her, Carlotta was secretive about her haven. It was a point of contention in their relationship. Annoyed with her intrusion, he felt like needling her about her staunch refusal to allow him to intrude on her closely guarded home.
Silky tendrils of dark hair clung to her neck as she paused in taking down her updo. “Are you jealous? Do you just adore me, my darling? Am I your one and only?”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“I know I’m irresistible.” She batted her long, thick eyelashes.
“You are avoiding answering my question.” Armando glowered.
Carlotta prowled seductively toward him, a dangerous glint in her dark eyes. “You lust me, I lust you. This is all we have together, no more. Who or what is in my house is my business. You may like spending your time with weak, pale women who gorge themselves on animal blood, but I am a true vampire! I drink the blood of those beneath me. I will bring over who I wish!”
Armando scoffed at her, pouring himself a drink of wine mixed with cow’s blood.
Carlotta continued, her voice thick with disdain. “I am not some stupid, lost, bastard following blindly after a vampire who has no idea of the great legacy of our vampire history! If your wonderful Roman Socoli ever met me, he would soon discover what it truly means to be a vampire!” Carlotta hissed at Armando, revealing her long fangs, pale and white next to her blood red lips.
“You have no idea what he is like,” Armando said crossly. “None at all.”
With a wild laugh, she lounged back against his kitchen counter, her hips thrust provocatively toward him, her breasts heaving. “Oh, how defensive you get over your pathetic little friend. Have you fallen in line with his pathetic laws?”
“You know the Master wishes for me to be among them!” Armando clenched his fist at his side. “I did not choose to go to Roman. I was ordered.”
Cocking her head, she tittered with delight. “You like him though. Admit it.”
Gulping down the cold mixture in his glass, Armando tried to bring his temper under control. Carlotta was deliberately riling him, and he knew it. Yet, it was difficult not to engage in a battle of words. “I respect Roman because he is a man who will not be deterred by his vampire nature from doing what he feels is right. You don’t understand what he believes. You won’t e
ven read his works. Do you realize that since the original fifty-two found him, nearly thirty more vampires have actively sought him out? The few books that escaped the incinerator are being duplicated and spread about the ranks of those vampires who serve no Master and have no sense of our history. Roman is the Master they chose!”
Carlotta snorted with contempt.
“Carlotta, they chose him! Do you even understand how powerful that one act actually is? We didn’t choose our Master! He made us, claimed us as his own, and we do his bidding. Roman’s vampires are free! They can do as they please with no fear of punishment.”
“Until our Master comes and teaches them that they are nothing more than vampire bastards!” Her long fangs flashed behind her red lips as she laughed. “They are like children!”
“They’re creating their own rules and shaping their own lives. Wouldn’t you like the same? The ability to live free of our Master’s wrath? To have true freedom?” Armando shocked himself with the treachery of his own words. “That is the allure of Roman to these lost vampires.”
“But not to you?”
“I know who my Master is.”
Finely sculpted brows lowering over her dark eyes, Carlotta said, “Shall I tell our Master your words? I’m sure he would find them to be quite interesting. He might even come earlier to wipe away that blemish of a false leader you so adore if he feels he is losing you to Roman.”
Armando turned away, startled at the depth of devotion he unexpectedly felt toward Roman. “Why bring down his wrath on Roman? His fate is already sealed.”
“Roman doesn’t know who he is beneath the veneer of his lies.” Carlotta drew close to Armando. “I know who I am.”
Armando tossed a dark look in her direction. “And I don’t?”
Brushing past him, she yanked open the refrigerator. “You’re weakening yourself on the blood of animals!” She pointed at the jars containing the thick blood with disgust.
“I have to drink it. To hide my true purpose in their lives,” Armando retorted. “If I drank human blood, they would be able to feel it, see it.”
Licking her lips, Carlotta pondered his words. “Perhaps. Or maybe you have lost sight of who you truly are.”
Armando hissed, closing in on her. “I know who and what I am.”
“You are not who you used to be!”
Armando was becoming increasingly angry. “I am Armando De Leon!”
“You are the lover of bastards and weaklings!” Carlotta sneered. “You have forgotten our Master! You have forgotten who we are! You have forgotten what you were sent here to do!”
Armando grasped hold of Carlotta’s arms and shook her. “I can never forget what I am!”
“Prove it.” Tilting back her head, she gave him a defiant look.
“I don’t have to prove myself to you!”
“Yes, you do!”
Armando flung up his hands with disgust. Their conversation was treading onto dangerous ground. Armando was well-aware that she would report him to their Master as a traitor if she believed for a moment he truly was a follower of Roman. He was furious with her for interrupting his writing time and angry with himself for letting her enrage him. “Get out! You vile, repulsive-”
Carlotta cut him off, pressing her lips firmly against him. The hatred he had felt for her exploded into passion. Armando lost himself in his desire for her, forgetting her cold words in a blaze of searing heat. Her laughter ringing in his ears, he sank his sharp teeth into her supple throat.
* * *
An hour later, Armando lounged in his bed and watched Carlotta carefully untangle her long hair and combed it out.
“You did it again.” The anger and frustration he had felt earlier had dissipated in the heat of their lovemaking and the drawing of blood.
Carlotta glanced over her shoulder at him, her lips smiling. “Anger and passion, love and hate: there is always a fine line.”
Armando sat up, the satin sheets pooling around his thighs. Taking the comb from her, he began to draw it through her long, glistening black hair. Sighing with contentment, Carlotta relaxed her bare shoulders, enjoying his ministrations.
“So tell me, Armando, what do you find with Roman and his people that you don’t find with me?”
“Logical conversations.”
Carlotta playfully hit him. “We are both passionate people. We fight so much, but then we make up.”
“Which I enjoy so much,” Armando whispered in her ear, then kissed her neck.
Purring with contentment, Carlotta fell back against his chest, snuggling against him. “So do I.”
Armando lightly stroked her arm, kissing her neck. She was still warm from her earlier feeding. When he had imbibed from her throat, the blood she had drunk had also infused him. The gnawing hunger he had felt for months for human blood was sated. He detested how he had to virtually starve himself to Roman’s Laws in order to keep up his farce. It felt wonderful to be renewed and fully empowered once more, but he would have to avoid visiting with Roman for a few nights until he was once more in a weakened state.
Carlotta nuzzled his cheek. “Truthfully, Armando, the vampires who follow Roman do intrigue me. They’re so normal. No, no, that’s not right. They want to be normal. I don’t understand this.”
Armando exhaled and set the comb aside. Enfolding her in his arms, he rested his chin against her shoulder. “They want desperately to be part of something beyond the hunger, beyond all the death. They desire to change their lives into a more positive existence. They draw together, like a family, but one made of choice.”
“Unlike us. Foisted together by our common Master,” Carlotta said, her voice strangely devoid of her usual mocking tone.
“Roman is their mentor, their teacher, their father. I am probably his closest friend but I, too, feel the charismatic power of his presence.”
Carlotta considered this. “You mean he’s not like-”
“No. Never.”
Carlotta tilted back her head so she could gaze into Armando’s eyes. “I want to meet him.”
Armando shook his head. “No. Absolutely not.”
“It would be fun to fool them into believing I was like them.” With a wicked grin, she twisted about in his grip, straddling him. “I could pretend to be a desperate vampire in need of guidance.”
Armando did not like the idea of Carlotta being anywhere near Roman or Roman’s sisters. “Carlotta, no. Absolutely not.”
“You of all people, Armando, should know to never to tell me no. What harm can I do? You’re the one who pretends to be their friend and yet you don’t tell them of the vampire wars, the vampire lords, the vampire king’s death, the purges, or how their bastard existence is of no consequence to the true vampires.”
“He doesn’t want them to know. You know that.” Armando thrust her away, annoyed. “This is not a game, Carlotta.”
“Armando, all you do is play games! Why won’t you let me play? Or do you really care about them?” Carlotta’s eyes narrowed. “Is that it? Do you care for them? Or is it just amusing for you to watch them flounder about in the dark not truly realizing who they really are?”
“I’m obeying our Master, yet I don’t believe Roman or his vampires are truly a threat to him. When he comes here, he can claim what is his, but I hope to have him spare Roman and the others. I take all of this quite seriously,” Armando replied in a low voice.
“Ah…really? When our Master destroyed the vampire king and the purges began, who helped the Master destroy the rogue vampires plaguing Europe? There’s no difference between Roman’s vampires and the rogue vampires? Why care about Roman and his bastards?”
Armando growled, frustrated.
“So, maybe you do really care about Roman and his little bastards. Maybe you believe they are not a threat. But those words are traitorous, and you know it!”
“I do my Masters bidding, Carlotta. Every night I have done exactly what he has told me to do.”
Carlotta’s slend
er fingers curled around his wrist, dragging his attention back to her. “I just worry about you, Armando. You don’t even seem to realize that what you are saying is heresy in the eyes of our Master. We are his children: he is our Master. In the end, you belong to him just as much as I do. You may speak the words of a traitor, but his blood is in our veins and we will always be his. If you continue to speak of betrayal and he finds out, he’ll destroy you.”
Armando twisted out of her grip, hunching over, burying his face in his hands. Her words made terrible sense. Perhaps he was compromising himself. He was surprised to realize how defensive he felt in the wake of her attacks on Roman and his vampires. “I have not seen him for so long. I sometimes forget his face.”
“He hasn’t forgotten yours. When he does come, he will destroy Roman and Roman’s vampires and take what is his.” Carlotta wrapped her arms around Armando, her sharp little teeth moving threateningly against his throat. “You will remember who you are when he returns. For now, play with your little group of children. Play with them while they are young and foolish with new ideas. Enjoy yourself until that time when our Master returns to claim what is his. But never forget who you truly are and why you are there.”
Armando could feel Carlotta’s cold arms around him and her soft lips against his throat, but his thoughts were not on her actions, but her words. His loyalty lay with his Master. That he was certain of, but she was right. He would have to be careful not to be lured by the rhetoric of the vampire he’d started to consider a friend. When the Master arrived, Armando knew Roman’s days would come to an end.
30
April 2007
Vanora’s seventeenth birthday was the single most exhausting celebration in her short life. Everyone wanted to be a part of it. Since the big event fell on a Monday, Uncle Nicolau and Aunt Crystal arrived with their two eldest kids, Viktor and Felicia, to take Vanora to Galveston Island for the weekend. Since her uncle and aunt knew about Roman and Alisha, but her cousins did not, Alisha had to beg off from joining them by claiming she had too much work to do before her next showing. The weekend was filled with shopping, dining out, laughter and time spent at the beach.
Vampire in the Night: In Darkness We Must Abide, #1 Page 18