Life’s enchanted cup sparkles near the brim ~ Lord Byron

January 2, 2006, Bartholomew Estate, near Pacific City, Oregon

With each light of day brings forth a new phase for which a soul can embrace. That was what my mind told me. Yet as I watched time pass before me I realized my existence has been marred by an unbearable and relentless ache inside my chest, one with which has devoured the remnants of my former life with overwhelming angst. Unable to cope, I remain a prisoner to my bed, distraught frail, I feel I have failed myself, and those around me. My heart destroyed. I suppose I could compare it to having it viciously ripped from my chest, crushed, shredded, and somehow thrust back into my body molded into a heap of sculpted clay. Heavy like lead or other heavy metal, the clay adheres to my body as it slowly envelops my body into a mass of hardened cement. My shell hardened. My soul can no longer bear such evil it is driven down into the very depths of despair.

No longer able to bear witness to such grief, my captor comes to me as the pristine sun shimmers crossways across the room overlooking his muted form. Our eyes converged into a liquid sea of azure as his erect incisors sink deeply into his wrist, bringing forth a rush of viscous scarlet liquid. He places his wrist over my reluctant mouth, as the sinuous fluid encounters my lips at last unyielding. I passionately engulf his essence latching tightly I grab his arm with my hand holding it over my mouth. My body inches closer to him, as my incisors adhere to his flesh my lips fold over his frigid wrist becoming nourished by his spirit. The event lasts but mere minutes before he pulls my lips from his arm. His head nears the exposed flesh of my neckline and gently he tears the skin with his razor-sharp daggers, releasing a river of torment into his mouth. His actions consumed my pain, interlacing my anguish among the demons of his very soul. The heartache and misery that had possessed me unhurriedly diminishes while the pestilence and grief – little by little subside. My eyes open, my reflection in the mirror reveals a pair of azure eyes, momentarily renewed, the bittersweet memories no longer excruciating. I took solace.

My eyes closed worn and blood-shot. Then as if kissed by life, my eyes returned to their rich chocolate-brown. With unspoken words, he squeezed my hand affectionately and brushed back my hair from my tranquil yet sallow cheek. As quickly as he stood before me, silently he was gone as if a mere illusion – never to breathe word of what transpired again.

Hours later, I found Lord Bartholomew sitting in the living room, his feet resting on the coffee table reading from Chaucer, ‘The Canterbury Tales’. A pewter chalice filled to the brim near his feet with a red liquid beverage I presumed was blood, two coffee cups and tall pewter decanter.

He glanced up with fondness in his eyes and a warm smile on a handsome face, “how are you feeling?”

“Better, thank you.” I answered, as I looked graciously into eyes of liquid gold.

“Please join me. I will have Elaina bring in something for you to eat.”

I took a seat in the deep brown leather chair, its arms worn and faded from years of wear. “Thank you but I’m not hungry.”

“You need to eat.” He called to his housekeeper. She brought some fresh raspberry scones and coffee. My captor removed his stocking feet from the table and she placed the tray down.

“I will try.” I said, my voice low and somber. “Lord Bartholomew, I am ready for you to tell me what I am and what it all means.” My voice cracked, as the words escaped – my eyes, revealed a broken woman with a crushed spirit.

“Are you quite sure?” he glanced at me his eyes filled with unease. I believe he was uncertain of my mental capacity. I myself was in doubt. Yet I needed to know. I needed for him to expose his inner demons so I might understand my fate, my purpose no matter how painful or horrid.

I reached for the cup of lamb’s blood, and poured a copious amount into my coffee. “Yes, I am most certain. It is doubtful that I will like what you have to say, but it is time for me to come to terms with my destiny.”

He hesitated. A glance of apprehension, and worry on his face, he began his tale. “Our story is complex, as I have said. I certainly don’t have all the answers you seek, but I will do my best to tell you, of what I know.

“Lexi, we were born blood drinkers.” He boldly stated. “Our bloodline has continued for hundreds of millennia virtually undetected by mortal man.” He took in a deep breath. Then continued. “We are…complicated creatures. But I assure you we are not dead.”

I knew he was about to open the door to the dark side and divulge his inner secrets. His eyes were reluctant – afraid. Perhaps he worried how I would handle such information. I myself was uncertain. He sat idle, staring into oblivion.

“There are no easy answers to your questions. As you must suspect, we need regular supplements of blood to function ‘normally’ and co-exist with humans. We must sustain on blood in relatively large amounts from the blood of living creatures for survival; the comparison is simple. Blood is to us what water is to a human. Human blood is of course, our preferred source of nourishment, but by no means do we condone killing humans for our sustenance, we haven’t for centuries.”

“How reassuring,” I sighed.

“Certainly, those unrelenting fools continue to practice such illicit means of survival. But understand we do not condone this behavior.”

I glared. I sensed a dark secret burning deep within his soul. My body trembled. The notion I sat in the house of a killer trickled a shiver down my spine. And sparked a question I was afraid to ask, but knew I must. “Lord Bartholomew, have you killed people to survive?” I choked.

“Lexi, please call me Stephan. “And,” he hesitated before replying – “Yes.”

Disclosing his name to soften the blow only made what he told me worse. His words stabbed like a knife deep into my guts. The pain seared. I wrapped my arms around my mid-section and held on to my body. It was one thing to surmise – yet entirely different to comprehend, the truth. I was being held captive by a murderer. My fate in his hands! ‘Oh Lord help me find the way to see my way through this predicament, I beg you.’ I squirmed in my seat.

My eyes then turned to him and stared coldly. The orange and reddish flames of the fire, cast a golden hue against the hazel and tiny specks of cobalt in his eyes. I paused. His face wore little morose. Reflecting, upon his words –anger rose inside of me spinning, twisting in my guts. I am so going to hell. “You have divulged your secret to me – now it seems I have become an accessory in whatever sick and twisted game you are playing.” I said tensely. My fingers trickled through my hair.

“I am not sure which is worse the fact I will need to consume blood to function, or the fact I am destined to be a vile creature like you!” my voice quivered in contempt as I spoke.

“Lexi, I am indeed sorry you feel that way. I understand how you must feel and of course what you must think of me. I cannot deny who I am or even the barbaric actions I have conceded to in my past. Admittedly, I have taken the lives of humans, many.” he said with the deep stare of remorse in his eyes. “Please understand that was… so very long ago. Times were different. I regret having done the things I did.” His voice cracked. “I realize your knowledge of the fact I have taken a human life is hard for you to digest. No pun intended. I assure you, I am no monster. You must realize consuming blood is our curse, a mere piece of whom or what we truly are. It does not define us as beings, Lexi.”

“And that makes it right! Consuming human blood makes it okay to have murdered people? Oh my God do you hear yourself? I can’t believe my ears! And what is worse you condone it!” I shouted.  Appalled by the monster that sat inches from me. I stood, my blood boiled. I couldn’t bear, no, I couldn’t stand to be in the same room as this vicious killer. I would have run away if I could. Instead I moved to the worn leather chair on the other side of the sofa.

“You are a monster, and now I have become a monster! We are all fucking monsters!” I shouted peering at him with disdain. I didn’t care that I swore. I was already condemned. After all I was a blood-sucking vampire. Just call me Hoover and stick that vacuum in my hands. But I am not going to hell without a fight. Clearly all vampires ended up in hell. Damn pestilent demons. I cried, and laughed equivocally, but not in the funny ha, ha laughing crying way, but the laugh that comes from deep-rooted anger and utter disbelief.

Panicked I couldn’t sit still. I stood glaring angrily at this man, Stephan Bartholomew. “Please tell me that our relatives still do not continue the practice of killing humans for pleasure. Please tell me that I am not related to a bunch of blood sucking heathens.” I shouted.

I could see from the expression he wore upon his somber face, he could not tell me what I wanted so desperately to hear.

“Oh God our relative’s, my relatives, kill humans. Oh god, I am so going to hell, and it looks like I will be having a lot of company when I get there – my entire family and then some!”

I didn’t allow him the opportunity to speak. I already had the answers I sought. I turned and walked toward the window, my arms folded tightly around my waist.

He took me by surprise as he stood near.

“Unfortunately some of our kind still takes the lives of human, yes.” He responded.

“Could my life be any worse?” I buried my head in my hands, not wanting to hear his words. Raising my head I pushed my thoughts of him aside and sauntered to the couch. I grabbed my coffee. It had turned cold, but the taste of lamb soothed my nerves and I eagerly engulfed the cup. The viscous fluid was like raspberry honey. Inspecting the contents of the pewter decanter in vain, I realized what a hypocrite I’d become.

Disgusted for allowing the blood of an innocent lamb to give me such pleasure. What had the lamb done to deserve to die in such a cruel manner? It struck me that the creature likely suffered a long, painful, and frightening death. The bleating creature crying out as the blood drained from its twitching body. I shivered by the thought.

“Lexi, I said we. I do not advocate such behavior. Even though drinking human blood is part of who we are, who I am, we, I disapprove highly. Generally creatures that take part in this behavior are dealt with, trust me. It is in our nature by virtue of our curse to consume the blood of living beings. It is difficult to control. But we must. This is why we now drink the blood from animals.” He said imploring me to understand who we really were.

I looked at him with revulsion as I contemplated for a second the fact my relatives were also murders, and then spoke, “and wait just a minute, what curse? I thought you were being metaphorical. You mean that on top of everything else we truly are cursed?” Agitated I could not sit or stand still. I finally sat only to find myself squirming more. Argh.

“The curse. Yes, the curse is something we should discuss.” He was attempting to change the subject.

“Of course it is. You seem to tell me enough to keep me a bay, never allowing me to know all the details. Typical man!” I stated in a huff. His evasiveness incensed me. I could no longer bear to look at him. His image disgusted me. He revolted me, by his near presence.

He said nothing. He merely sat again across from me and stared. I could feel the coldness of his eyes as they peered at me. Looking. Watching. Wondering.

“Fine. You don’t have to tell me. I already know. We are after all demons from hell cursed to feast of the blood of the living.” And yet again, I felt like a child being reprimanded; being told to do something yet never explained why it was done that particular way.

“Okay let me get this straight. I need blood to survive. I have relatives who are barbarians, and the plus side is I get to live a long, long, long, long time. But the negative side is that I am cursed. No shit! I’m a God-damn vampire! Oh, but wait it gets better! I kill people! Well at least I haven’t killed anyone yet!” I screamed. I was wrong. I was not ready to hear this. I would take it back if I could. Now I had to learn to deal with something so strange and bizarre. Creatures that roam the streets vying for prey – human prey, oh God I pray save me from this horrific man. Save me from myself.

Several minutes passed before either of us spoke. I believe he was at a loss as what to say that would ease my fury or my pain. Better left unsaid I deduced.

Finally, I decided to speak first, “I have to say it is pretty incredible there are vampires around and people haven’t a clue they exist. How sad for them, unknowing all the while vicious predators are on the loose lurking about. And when they least expect it the vampire killers from hell pop out and kill their sorry asses!” I snapped, and then sipped on the last drops from my cup of coffee laced with succulent blood. Again the hypocrite, damned to hell.

“Please tell me how it is that after all of this time, none of you have ever been caught when you were back in the drinking human blood days?” I said sarcastically. “Did people ever know you existed or did you kill them once they discovered the truth?” I was acerbically rambling again which seem to for some odd reason bring somewhat of a smirk to his face, no matter how unpleasant our conversation was headed.

“Enough!” He shouted as he stood hovering over me.

Startled. Something very sinister inside him snapped, which frightened me. My heart skipped a beat, perhaps two.

Stephan reached over to the table and grabbed the last of the lamb’s blood from the decanter, and generously refilled my empty cup with its contents. To my surprise he also reached over and pulled out a bottle of bubbly and two champagne flutes he had chilling behind the sofa, and popped the cork. He filled the glasses then added just a splash from the pewter decanter to our already full glass.

Shocked. “Why would you possibly believe I wanted to share a bottle of champagne with of all persons, you?”

He said nothing.

I watched, as if transfixed upon the palest golden liquid, its tiny bubbles floating to the top. The rich viscous burgundy trickled downward intertwining with the golden liquid. Shockwaves of tiny bubbles disbursed the mixture into a scarlet cocktail of pure heavenly bliss. I drooled.

“The champagne was for last night, but considering… the…,” He stopped as he watched me. I uncontrollably reached over and pulled the glass up to my lips and gulped down its contents in its entirety.

After refilling my glass, he sat back and sipped from his, and glanced at me with remorseful eyes. At that moment, I realized he had lived through so much hell in his long live and had likely bared witnessed to immeasurable death and despair, likely as a result of his very hands, I saw it in his eyes.

“But, you see,” he continued, “our way of life Lexi is not so different from that of humans. This is, in part why we have coexisted virtually undetected for centuries. We infiltrated their society and made it our own. And as such, we are, and as a rule have been careful throughout time. We look after our own kind.

Lexi you know that throughout history there is good and evil within all parts of society. Just as there are different religions. For without evil there can be nothing good. Our world is no different. Our world is your world. Of course there have been occasions when human have accidentally died. There, admittedly in our family some tread a very fine line of discovery. We call them thrill seekers – those who thrive on the adrenalin rush of consuming blood from a human donor, or worse taking a human life.

Human blood is decadent much like that of a drug. So you must understand the desire and excitement to ingest such a pure source of sustenance. Many have unfortunately killed their victims. For many, the thrill from consuming human blood is exhilarating for both the blood drinker and for their host. It is a sadistic game.”

I raised my head. ”People actually like having their blood sucked? How repulsive. What happened to secrecy?”

“True. We would rather remain undiscovered. But partaking in such blood drinking activities it is very erotic for both parties.” Apparently he realized how horrendous his words sounded. He quickly retorted.

“Those acts generally happened hundreds, if not thousands of years ago. They remain highly frowned upon. You are quite correct, in that we must remain secret. I do believe that our own actions led to guide many myths you have familiarly read about. So you understand how crucial it is to be secretive. Our discovery would not go over well with the world or within our Council.” He finished.

“So, you have participated in these feasts as well I suspect. Am I right?” I waited for an answer, but he merely stared saying nothing. “Did you participate in these activities? You did! I can see by the look on your face you did this. How could you!” I snapped. I glared at him. He remained silent. Then I realized he performed such a similar act with me, on me, whatever. The only difference – I’m a vampire. Did that count? Vampires drinking human’s blood, was different. It was wrong. I took his lack of response for a definitive yes, but also picked up on the let’s drop this subject, which I would, for now. “And what Council?”

“It is late we shall continue our conversation in the morning.”

***

Chapter 28 – Unfaithful

A mistress never is nor can be a friend. While you agree, you are lovers; and when it is over, anything but friends. ~ Lord Byron

August 2003, Firenze, Italy

Firenze was overflowing with the characteristic scene of wandering tourists promenading along the narrow alleys and cobbled streets of the bustling city. Vespas and bicycles zipped in and out of cars and pedestrians, honking or screaming fiercely at those who dared cross their paths.

Serena dashed along Via Por Santa Maria frantically on route to her father’s office located just off of Borgo de Greci. She was inconvenienced. Henri her driver had fallen ill which forced her to walk fifteen minutes from her club three blocks south of Ponte Vecchio to her father’s office.

The temperature was stifling, nearing 100 degrees Fahrenheit, in concert with the extraordinarily high humidity she was profusely perspiring among the mob of sweaty heathens roaming the streets, in need of a cold shower. Her usually straight brunette locks had transformed into frizzy mat upon her head, somewhat resembling that of a scruffy poodle. She was thankful for her choice in lightweight cotton dress, which allowed a subtle breeze to flow through the fabric providing some relief to her clammy skin. Her make-up was still in order, she hoped. To be sure, she would stop at the toilet to freshen up before meeting her Papa, who was introducing her to a colleague from the United States. “He probably expects me to offer him free access to the club. So typical.”

“Well, his client might at least give me a little amusement.” She muttered, “Albeit not much of a challenge.” She so loved the advantage of a predator – prey relationship and was privy to a challenging conquest. The chase made the prey’s blood bubble with fear and trepidation, and their essence more flavorful, like chocolate and raspberries, she reflected.

Serena approached the office building, roughly ten minutes later and made her way up to her father’s office that overlooked the busy cobbled streets below. She momentarily stopped at the toilet situated down the hall and gave herself the once over in the tiny mirror. “Dreadful, damn you Henri it is your fault I look appalling.” She cursed at the mirror. He most definitely will not hear the last of this, she told herself as she washed up a bit with a paper towel and cool water, and attempted to detangle her frizzed mat of hair. She applied a generous amount of Channel No. 7 in hopes the cinnamon and spicy scent would hide the musky odor of perspiration. Then proceeded to touch up her makeup, apply a generous layer of ruby-red lipstick, and was out the door in seconds flat. Her father would convey his displeasure no-doubt, as she was late.

The office building was constructed like most buildings in Florence of the 13^th Century, tan stucco, with orange ceramic tiles, and russet shutters covering the windows. The structure, privy to a number of renovations since its erection, to its present comfortable and updated condition; the Florentine architecture nevertheless unchanged. As anticipated, her father was impatiently awaiting her arrival as she entered through the great ceiling to floor hardwood door of his sparsely populated office.

“Ciao papa,” she sheepishly greeted him kissing him on either cheek.

“Late again, I see.” He snapped in Italian, bluntly annoyed by her tardiness. The Conte looked dapper as usual dressed in a navy silk suit, white shirt, blood-red tie, and black Italian shoes, designed especially for him by his good friend Salvatore Ferragamo. He rarely wore anything else. Salvatore took such fine care of him he didn’t see the need to support other designers. His once salt and peppery hair seemingly more salt than pepper of late, something she noticed. His coal colored eyes looked tired, and his laugh lines more pronounced. He was working entirely too much.

“My dear, we will be joining a business associate from New York City momentarily in the small conference room”, he stated which was aptly named ‘Piccolo’. “He will also be lodging with us at the Castillo for the duration of his visit. I hope that you will provide him with your courteous attention while he is visiting our wonderful country. I also thought he might enjoy a night at your club. He can return to the Castillo with you after closing. I will send the heli.”

Before Serena could utter a response, the Conte ushered her from his office down the corridor to the small conference room. Standing near the window in ‘Piccolo’, stood a tall muscular build man, gazing out toward the courtyard below, holding in his hand a glass of Tiziano, a popular drink of the Venetians, consisted of Prosecco and fresh grape juice, the pitcher sat in the middle of the conference room table. He slowly turned around and his deep chocolate eyes, met Serena’s, she actually blushed, something she rarely ever achieved.

“Buon pomeriggio! Conte, so nice to see you again,” he said, as the Conte gave the man a warm embrace and brushed kiss on each cheek.

“I apologize for our tardiness my daughter has never felt a need for a watch, but I see you found the Tizianos, most excellent.”

“Sì, grazi.” He replied in perfect Italian.

The man focused his attention to Serena, as she walked into the room; a stunning vision, analogous to an angel, clad in her flowing white cotton dress, in contrast to the evil temptress she was.

“And this must be your lovely daughter that I have heard so much about.”

“Si, Michael, I would like to introduce you to Serena,” the Conte said proudly in Italian accented English.

“Serena, this is Michael Covington, from New York City.”

“Michael walked over to her, and she kissed him lightly on each cheek, with affection, “pleased to make your acquaintance.” She articulated with a slight hint of an accent.

“The pleasure is all mine,” he responded again in perfect Italian, revealing his faultless smile and dimples.

Serena was enamored, such that she completely had disregarded the introduction and was wildly imagining what she could do to this gorgeous man, given the chance of course. The pulsating rhythm of his heart was conveying shock waves of erotic bliss throughout her body. It was a challenge for her to concentrate on conversation. His musky scent in concert to the sweet-scent of blood coursing through his veins was utterly intoxicating. She tried with all her might to focus she mustn’t allow her father to notice she was in another world.

Over the next several hours, the context of the conversation pertained to new business ventures between Michael and other close friends of the Conte’s; Serena intently listened so not to allow her mind to wander. A difficult feat, considering her mind fantasized devouring this man later.

When the meeting ended, the three escaped from the tiny conference room outside. As they walked the conversation was comprised of small talk, the winery and various vintages, and other trivial discussions.

“Serena, I trust that you can see our guest to the club?” the Count asked.

“Of course, it would be my pleasure” she responded. Disappointed she would have to behave, as this man clearly was an important asset for her father’s business. Admittedly she found their guest quite fascinating. Always enamored by American men, Serena typically was more drawn to the attractiveness of the Italians. Yet, there was something unusual about this man oddly drew her to him. A quality of mystery although she couldn’t put a finger on it, he was concealing something she was convinced. She smiled wickedly.

Later that evening, Serena arrived at the club where she joined her guest at the third floor bar. He had enjoyed a complimentary bottle of Krüg, and some complimentary cheese and bread in her absence.

“Good evening, Mr. Covington, I hope that you have enjoyed yourself.” She said in a sultry voice with nominal accent.

“Hello and si Lady Tullevette! I am enjoying myself very much thank you.”

The thrill of the chase consumed Serena’s mind. She was mad with desire. It was all she could do to control herself as her mind filled with endless sadistic images.

The two eventually moved to a more secluded table situated at the corner of the bar, the sheer burgundy curtains, drawn secluding the two from the sight of suspecting patrons. Mesmerized, the couple discussed a variety of topics including his business, his passion for baseball, a mutual love of wine, travel, and the theater. To her amazement she actually enjoyed herself and liked the American. So much so, she ultimately, invited him to her office suite. To her delight he readily agreed.

Yet, she surprised herself of her restraint. Her intent having altered from sadistic toward uncharacteristic emotional feelings she could not comprehend. But something about this man intrigued her in a way no other being had.

When they reached her office, Michael, began kissing her. He slowly began to remove her dress. Serena initially resisted. Confusion over her actions led her to hesitate, which drove Michael mad with desire. The softness of his lips and his taste was more than she could resist and she allowed her dress to fall to the floor to reveal the sunlit softness of her flesh.

His heart pounded violently in his chest in anticipation of bedding her. He practically ripped his clothes off. She conceded, as she too was out of her mind in lustful pleasure. It was with great difficulty she controlled herself. She sensed her body changing with every kiss and every touch of his hand stroking her body, with trepid anticipation of tasting his sweetness. It nearly drove her over the edge. Yet she wanted to refrain. If only she could.

Michael placed his mouth over hers. Her lips were like wine as he softly kissed her overflowing with unrefined passion. He touched her in ways no one had dared. He understood her every desire, right down to her very soul. No longer could she deny herself of him. Her incisors elongated, she carefully punctured his throat drawing into her mouth a wave of his sweet warm blood. He barely flinched as she sucked in his essence, and they became as one entwined in a sea of ravenousness lust.

She was careful not to consume him entirely. She peculiarly found herself caring for him. What unfathomable hold did this stranger possess was unclear, but she knew she desired more. She desperately wanted to devour him.

When each of them lie drained from the pleasure they had shared and she drank until she could no more, the two lay in each other’s arms for the duration of the night.

When they awoke, not a word was spoken of what had occurred the previous night. Michael left her to carry out his business affairs with her father, only to return to her that following night. The next several weeks turned into months, the pattern the same. It was if she had cast a spell on him, the man was so drawn to her. He could not get enough. Each time he would visit Firenze he would meet her. Countless hours they would share together. He would listen to her stories of her life, her interests, her passions, and then a lover in her bed. He allowed her to imbibe from him never once questioning why or what she was. It was if he somehow knew.

Alas, as quick as it began the affair concluded, Michael’s business in Firenze had finished, which forced his return to his life in the States, and she to hers in Italia. Serena was deeply saddened by his departure, even more by the promises of his return one-day soon. While she wanted more than anything to have this man as her own, she believed they were of two separate worlds, hers and his, worlds in which the two could never be as one. Unbeknownst to either of them, it could never have been further from the truth.

***

The devil takes a hand in what is done in haste. ~Turkish Proverb

December 31, 2005, Sisters of Providence Convent, Hyde Park, New York

“Oh thank heaven Father Bernard, you have finally returned. We have a situation.”

“Reverend Mother, you must calm yourself. Whatever it is I am sure we shall handle it.”

“You don’t understand Father, the gems,” the Reverend Mother whispered. “We must remove the gems from the Convent immediately.” Her eyes frantically searched the inner sanctuary thankful to God the Father, not a soul was in sight. The slightly plump nun dressed in her usual black attire. The once ash colored hair which flowed down the narrow of her back, had long since grayed, and now she wore it tucked discretely inside her religious habit.

“Reverend Mother, I assure you that the stones are very safe, unless of course you know something I do not?” Father Bernard questioned.

“I’ve received word from the elders that another attempt was made on the girl’s life. The elders requested that we move the gems before they are discovered. They fear whoever was responsible for her attack may come here to retrieve them.” The old woman worriedly replied as she quickly gave the sign of the cross.

“I am well aware of the attack on her life. And I can assure you that she is indeed in good hands. She will be protected now.”

“That is a relief. Where is she?”

“She is with Lord Bartholomew.”

The Reverend Mother smiled.

“Did the elders say how exactly the gems were traced to the convent?” Father Bernard inquired.

“No. They merely indicated that a threat was made against the convent.”

“Interesting. The elders never contacted me.”

“Perhaps it was because they only recently learned of this threat.”

“Perhaps.” The priest replied his voice puzzled.

“Father, we must protect the convent and move the gems elsewhere and quickly, before it is too late.”

“Reverend Mother, I no longer know the gems whereabouts.” He continued as perspiration began to erupt along the line of his gray brow.

“What do you mean you no longer know their whereabouts? How can you assure their safe keeping if you do not know their whereabouts?”

“Reverend Mother, Sister Teresa hid them for me. No one knows the whereabouts except for her. They are safe, I assure you.”

“Father, the elder’s indicated that the gems no longer are safe in our possession. We have the other sister’s safety to consider and the children. We need to move away from this sanctuary. I can’t even begin to think of what could happen if those murderers are led here!”

“Reverend Mother, you needn’t concern yourself. It will do you no service to worry. Sister Teresa has no idea of the contents of the boxes she hid for me. The gems are safe.” He said as he looked upon the sister. Her blue eyes which once had sparkled so, had grown tired, the half moons underneath sagged further each day of her life.

“We all have carried this burden clutched within our souls for entirely too long, too many secrets.” She whispered. “Very well, I will trust in God to see us through any perils, should it come to that.”

“As well you should. I will be back shortly. I have some errands in town.”

As Father Bernard turned to leave the chapel, Reverend Mother Mary Margaret hurried from the inner sanctuary past the confessionals toward her office located down the short hallway of the main chapel. Nodding as she rushed past a group of four sisters similarly dressed as she.

The Sister’s office was simple yet tidy mostly bare ivory colored walls, a golden cross hanging near her desk, a portrait of Jesus and the Blessed Virgin Mary hanging over her small wooden desk. Two large wooden bookshelves containing hymnals and textbooks filled the wall next to the window with ivory colored horizontal blinds.

The Reverend Mother sat at her desk and inhaled deeply. Her heart was frail and beat quickly as she considered what danger approached. She pulled a key out from under her dress and unlocked the small drawer on the right side of her desk. She removed a small silver flask unscrewed the lid and took a long swig of the crimson fluid, her russet colored eyes transformed to a vibrant orange then to their original russet, as they quickly searched the room. She took another sip then re-screwed the cap replaced the flask to its hidden place, and locked the drawer.

She reached for the phone and dialed. After several minutes, her caller answered.

“I’m afraid we have a slight problem. He will not relinquish knowledge of the gems. What shall I do?”

“Are you most convinced that is the only way? By the grace of God I am not certain I can. There must be another way.” Blessed Mary, Mother of God please help.

“I too always knew this day would come, however it has arrived too soon for my fondness, I’m afraid. May God be with you.” She said as she replaced the receiver on the base of the phone. “May God be with us all.” She gave the sign of the cross and bowed her head in prayer and then pushed her finger on the talk button and dialed #124, the sound of the bizz, bizz, bizz, rang loudly in her ear. Then finally a voice answered.

“Yes?”

“Please come to my office immediately we have a situation.”

“Of course, Reverend Mother, I will be right there.”

***

The fear of death is more to be dreaded than death itself. ~ Publilius Syrus

New Years Eve, 2005, Club Inferno, Firenze, Italy

Serena Tullevette arrived at Club Inferno just after 9:30 pm. An evening chill filled the air, she was thankful the rain held off. She never minded the cold but simply hated rain. It caused such havoc with her dark finicky hair. A look she considered similar to a finger stuck in a light socket, or having been struck by lightning.

Her arrival uneventful. She snuck through the back entrance, a convenience she often used to avoid the mass of eager patrons. The nightclub scene remained relatively quiet, the usual crowds not expected for another hour. Perfetto. She had a few minutes to assess her business dealings before her older brother Dominic arrived to pick up receipts later in the evening. He was such a bore. Good for one thing. Taking care of her business needs and this night was her most profitable. She tossed her coat on the chair and sat at her desk.

The club was Serena’s showpiece, a gift from her father on her 25^th Birthday. While Lucian received entrance into the family business as a gift, she was given second prize – the club. She would have preferred inclusion in the all boys club. Ownership of the club didn’t come without a price; her father would never consider bestowing even to her, such a gift without an agenda or ulterior motive. She didn’t care. The club served her purposed as well it provided her opportunity to entertain her myriad of suitors. She only wished her father would collect his debt. She hated owing anyone anything, him even more.

Her club, ‘Club Inferno’ was situated off the Arno River not far from Ponte Vecchio. The ‘premier’ social scene of Florence and catered to those with more eclectic tastes in entertainment. Clientele varied nightly depending on music venue. Guests were well to do locals, VIPs, actors, businessmen, and the occasional tourist. Serena was pleased she had transformed a dilapidated 13^th Century structure into a mega-night club with all the modern techno and décor, in just under a year, and almost as quickly benefited from the profits. That was in part thanks to her brother Dominic. Lucian her twin, spent the money as fast as Serena reeled it in. It was so frustrating having a playboy for a brother.

Inside the club held three floors of entertainment: three full bars, lounge, and dining area. Each floor contained different nightly bands, two large dance floors on the upper two floors, and erotic dancers in cages all around the club. She had a private office on the third floor more closely resembled a hotel suite at the Grand Marquis, than an office. Nothing Serena had her finger in was half ass. It was all about appearance. In part she was right. Everyone who was anyone wanted in her club, hence the need for exotic private rooms for her egocentric clientele. Her efforts paid off, in more ways than money.

Tonight she was antsy. Lucian was not at the club as promised. The hour approached 10:30pm. The bastard, she hated to rely on her brother and worse hated to wait for anyone even Lucian, who constantly was late. She flicked her pen on the desk as she pondered what to do. After waiting for all of two seconds she decided to go out and play without him. She would have enjoyed her evening more had he joined her. “More fun for me,” she whispered as she rose.

She wandered over to the side mirror and applied a shade of luscious red lipstick, which perfectly matched the vibrant red accents to her black flowing pants and silk sweater. Courtesy of the hidden cameras she observed the night’s action via the various camera set up around the club. The rooms had become crowded and were now full of mostly late twenty something’s. The women were scantily dressed in typical club attire: short dress’ in an array of colors, some with sequences others without, spaghetti straps or strapless numbers, and standard matching ‘fuck me’ pumps and handbags. The men wore black slacks or designer jeans, silk shirts, some with ties, several without.

‘This will be fun with or without you Lucian, you ass’. She walked to the hidden closet behind the bookshelf and pulled out a black backless sequin mini dress and black velvet pumps. This will be perfect. She quickly changed and discarded her work clothes in the hamper and closed the closet.  

She walked back to the screen and examined each patron. ‘Who would be the lucky one tonight – or ill-fated one as it were?’ She recalled the day her father had sat her and Lucian down for a serious discussion the day of the even of her 25th birthday. They both had feared the Conte for he was known for his malevolent temper. They thought they had somehow angered him. Instead he proceeded to discuss their unique family lineage. It was then she learned she was of Thoth bloodline, cursed to drink from the blood of living souls for all eternity. As her father explained, he thought not of their family as cursed but rather blessed by the gods with the gift of amazing power – superior beings of purest bloodline to that of mere humans. And as each approached their thirtieth year, they would transform into the very creatures humans feared in their legends. Serena chuckled as she recalled her transformation; it arrived early. She mused.

She had waited for the day. For her and Lucian his magical transformation begun on the eve of their twenty-eighth birthdays, and since both had taken advantage of their heritage.

Serena loved playing games with ‘the humans’ and often played rough, which never ended well for her pet of the night; a trifle inconvenient, but nothing Lucian or Dominic couldn’t resolve. They had always been around to clean up her mistakes, no – their messes. She eyed what was to be her evening fun – a couple in their mid twenties sitting in the corner near the dance floor. If Lucian decided to join in, he was welcome, if not well more for her to savor.

She left her office down the elevator, and inched her way through the crowd, eventually residing at the bar. She asked Charlotte, one of the bartenders for a glass of her usual drink, stored in the rear of a small bar fridge.

The place was beginning to pick up, which please her. She made small talk with the help never her idea of fun; she was in the mood to play. She had learned the way to a happy staff was to treat them with respect even if it wasn’t sincere and to pretend to show interest in them. “Charlotte, please send a bottle of Cristal over to the couple sitting in the corner, with my compliments. Let them know I will join them later.”

“Of course Signorina rapidamente,” Charlotte, a mousy young American girl in her mid twenties, replied.

Serena wanted her new marks to have a couple of glasses before joining them. Meanwhile, she sipped on her crimson drink becoming more aroused with each sip. She seductively licked her lips as she gazed over at the young couple. He was blond, not terribly muscular or tall, but fit nonetheless, nicely dressed in dolce jeans and t-shirt, with a brown leather jacket. He was attractive for sure, especially his beautiful dark blue eyes. Conversely, his date a brunette with long flowing tresses of hair, violet eyes, petite and with at least ten thousand dollar breasts which she exposed ever so slightly by the V- of her neckline. She was beautiful with high model cheekbones, and long sensual neckline and pale skin tone. Tourists no doubt, she nearly exploded with anticipation. She must be patient, something she control well. She allowed her prey time to enjoy their champagne. Rather subtlety she would make her entrance. And she did.

“Good evening, my name is Serena Tullevette, I am the owner of this club I hope you are both enjoying yourselves? “

“Why yes,” the man replied, “and do we have you to thank for the champagne?” he said as he subtly gazed into her dark liquid eyes.

“It is my pleasure.” She smiled sincerely.

“Please would you care to join us? The young man replied nervously as he moved over to make room for Serena. “May I pour you a glass?”

“Thank you that would be splendid,” she answered as she chose instead to sit down next to his lady friend. The two were playing nicely into her hands.

The waiter arrived at table with fresh glasses something he was always instructed to do, the moment Serena sat at any of the guest’s tables.

“Awe, grazie Mario”

“Prego.”

“Un’altro bottiglia per favore.”

“Certamente un momento”

“Prego.”

“Perfetto. Mario will return with another bottle of bubbly shortly.” Serena replied.

“Oh my goodness, this is wonderful. Thank you so much, we never expected such overwhelming service, the girl replied with a thick American southern drawl. Serena mused.

“It is my pleasure. I hope you are, have a good time at my club.” Serena replied in a broken English, amused they were Americans. “So do tell me, how do you love our city?” She had as a child taken English from a private tutor, and actually spoke perfect English, but would often pretend she could hardly speak the language a little game she deliberately used to play with the tourists.

The conversation continued in similar fashion as the new bottle of champagne arrived. The girl, whose name was Susan was visiting Italy for the first time with her companion, Doug. He was an investment banker on Wall Street and clearly a player; she was in real estate. Susan had moved to New York, recently and had met Doug at a business function a few years earlier in Atlanta.

Susan was clearly getting tipsy, and Doug was not far behind. Serena moved closer to Susan, such that her dress was revealing the curvatures of her breasts through the sheen of her dress, in direct line of Doug’s ever roaming eyes. Serena gently rubbed her leg against Susan, affectionately, a gradual stroke over her leg. She did not intend to frighten her.

“Oh my, the wine is going right through me; the room is spinning. If you will please excuse me for a moment, I will be right back I need to use the lady’s room.”

After providing her with directions, Serena moved closer to Doug, snuggling close and whispering in his ear. She occasionally allowed him a look at her voluptuous breasts through the sheen. He was growing hard and she sensed it. He was reciprocating as anticipated. His hands roamed over her, just as Susan made her way back to her seat. Not remotely jealous. Excellent!

More champagne had arrived, which they were only too eager to help consume. “Oh my, this, bubbly stuff is going to my head,” she replied with her strong southern drawl slurred.

“Would you two care to join me upstairs? I will have the cook prepare some appetizers which should ease your stomach.” Serena suggested, not letting on she had ulterior motives to the new arrangements.

“That would be appreciated so much. Thank you. What a great hostess don’t you agree Doug?”

“Yes perfect hostess,” he winked.

“Fantastic, let me speak to the chef. I’ll also have another bottle champagne brought upstairs.” Serena left the company of the two unsuspecting targets; they were most accommodating.

When she returned, the couple followed Serena to her private office, staggering along their way. They arrived to a delicious tray of appetizers arranged perfectly on the lounge table: grilled salmon bits with a lemon dill sauce, steak bits grilled in teriyaki, and various soft and hard cheeses, breads and champagne. Her guests were pleased.

Doug and Susan took seats on a leather sofa and began helping themselves to the food. Susan was feeling better and decided to have more champagne. Doug seemed a bit more alert and was drinking more as well.

Time to move in.  She heard a knock on her door. To her dislike, she reluctantly went to answer the door, making a mental note to fire who ever let the person up the stairs.

“Lucian! She exclaimed, “Where ever is your key? And why are you so late! She disapprovingly questioned her twin in Italian as she greeted him with kisses on his cold dark cheeks. His black wavy hair looked windswept as she tenderly ran her fingers through it.

“Sorry I am late,” he replied. His muscular form loosely covered by a striking black designer suit and pale yellow silk shirt, top buttons open exposing a deeply tanned and hairless chest and thick gold chain around his neck.

“The party is about to begin. Lucian, please come and meet our guests from America. Doug and Susan, this is Lucian.” The unspoken resemblance between the two hosts was striking eerie.

“Hey, nice to meet you.” Doug replied, attempting to stand and shake his hand. Unbeknownst to the guests, Serena had drugged the last bottle of champagne, and the effects were taking hold. Soon their inhibitions would be drawn, and the games could begin.

“Hi Lucian, nice to meet you.” Susan replied slurring her words in breathless anticipation.

Serena slowly moved in, sitting between Doug and Susan as Lucian helped himself to some champagne watching Serena play her little game. Serena commented on Susan’s dress as she gently caressed her fingers lightly over the girl’s shoulder. Susan modestly thanked her hostess.

“Oh, my, I am getting warm and dizzy,” Susan fanned herself with her hand.

“Maybe you would like to lie down, in the guest room for awhile?” Serena asked her.

“Are you sure, I don’t want to be a burden.” The girl responded clearly experiencing the drug’s effects.

“It is no problem, please let me help you,” Serena said with a malevolent smile. Her face glowed with excitement. She helped the girl to her feet, placing her arms around her tiny waist, and led her down the short hallway to her quarters. Doug remained in his seat, in a slight daze. Lucian followed the two women, as he loved to watch.

The room was lightly illuminated by a rainbow of candles flickered endlessly around the room. Serena guided Susan toward the bed and slowly, unzipped her dress, slowly removing each strap, one by one.

“I feel so silly,” Susan replied slurring her words, the room spinning wildly around her.

“Assurdità,” Serena replied seductively as Susan’s dress fell on the floor revealing her soft yet, supple breasts, and black lace thong. Serena caressed her fingers over Susan’s shoulders, down the curvatures of her breasts and tenderly kissed the nap of her long neckline. Susan unrepressed as the sedatives flowed through her body; she never would have allowed a woman to touch her otherwise. She loved men, especially, Doug who had staggered into the room and moved in behind Serena. He sloppily kissed her on the back of her neck and gently unzipped her dress, slipping off each sleeve one shoulder at a time, until she too stood baring her ravishing bronzed body.

Serena feverishly kissed Susan, their tongues entwined. She then turned around and kissed Doug. It was at that moment Lucian decided to join in the party. He walked over to Susan and kissed her passionately, and then turned to Serena eagerly kissing her open mouth his tongue devouring hers. Driven by Lucian, Serena’s passion grew intensely and she returned her attentions to Susan helping her stagger to the crimson red satin sheets. Susan crawled on the bed, while the three gazed on with lust in their eyes. She lay in wait as the room slowly spun around her.

Serena sat on her knees above Susan and turned her attentions to Doug kissing him passionately teasing him with her tongue. She then turned to Lucian and returned the favor. The men were fondling Serena’s luscious form with their hands and then their mouths.

Serena glanced down at Susan her legs slightly unfurled before her and seized the opportunity to indulge in her sweetness. She began at her toes, kissing her softly, tasting her, and slowly devouring every inch of her lustful form. Susan moaned in pleasure, which propelled Serena into a wild frenzy. Susan attempted to move but the drugs surged through the veins of her aroused body immobilizing her.

Observing Susan’s arousal at Serena’s hand, Doug and Lucian were eagerly drawn to her. They began kissing her silky thighs and exchanging turns exploring her mound with their tongues. Both men completely engaged; Serena descended upon all Susan’s beauty, revealing two protruding incisors and methodically pierced Susan’s neck with monumental force as she was brought to climax. Susan cried out in terror. Lucian sunk his forceful fangs into the jugular of her thigh, and the two drained the very life from her. Her eyes wide open she lay on the bed motionless. Lucian licking his lips with gratification stood up and lifted Susan up and dumped her limp lifeless corpse on the floor, and returned to watch the remainder of the show.

Doug oblivious to what had just occurred returned his attentions to Serena. He threw her down hard upon the bed, and lay on her, holding her hands with his own. Serena vigorously was quick to flip him off of her and mount him squeezing his body tightly between her thighs.

“I see. You like it rough! I can do rough!” he said excitedly.

“You have no idea.” Serena replied in a seductive yet evil-voice.

The two kissed intensely, his hands groping her in frenzied ecstasy. Serena deliberately slowed him down. He needed to be reminded, she was the one in control she alone possessed the power. She grabbed Doug yanking him up to her, kissing him forcefully on his mouth, her tongue dancing quickly with his, and then she seized him again and threw him hard down onto the bed. Holding his arms down, she pulled out a silk scarf from under the pillow, and tied it to one hand, then removed another one and tied the other hand, binding both hands to each side of the bedpost.

He was unaware of his fate engrossed in the moment of divine ecstasy. Serena kissed him tenderly on his mouth her tongue swirling with his then receded. Incisors erect she kissed his neck nibbling effortlessly on his salty flesh releasing the first wave of his blood into her soft mouth. She lapped up the mixture of sweat and blood with eager prowess. He moaned insensitive to the pain. She maneuvered her soft form slowly down his chest kissing him and licking his salty flesh with her tongue until she reached his manliness. She lingered until he desperately begged to consume her. Serena stopped, and returned to his mouth where she kissed him hard, incessantly teasing him. He wanted to devour her. She finally relented as she mounted him squeezing him with her legs he could barely breathe. She wanted the man to beg for mercy, yet he wouldn’t concede; he loved every minute. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined experiencing such exotic pleasure. Serena was an untamed woman.

Serena constricted her thighs Doug persevered. She nibbled lightly on his chest generously tearing flesh with her sharpened daggers. Eagerly maneuvering her lips to his neck she punctured his jugular drawing waves of crimson fluid in her mouth. She lapped up the sugariness blend, and rose revealing her erect incisors with his blood trickling down her chin. Doug’s eyes grew wide with fright as he stared into her fiery eyes, observing the evil demon clutching him. The image invoked Serena into a wild frenzy and she swooped down upon his exposed skin and violently gored his neck sending her over the edge as she sadistically erupted. Doug thrashed trying to escape her grip to no avail. His fate sealed as she ingested every drop of his soul until he lay motionless.

The sadistic predator satiated removed the silken ties that had bound her prey and crawled off the lifeless mass. Licking her lips in pleasure she glanced down at her conquest with an evil smirk worn proudly on her face, and purposefully dumped the remains on the floor.

Lucian stood at the end of the bed watching, waiting in anticipation, his bronzed muscular frame glowing like Adonis in the softness of the candlelight. He slowly approached his lover, tenderly embracing her in his arms as he laid her on the blood wrinkled satin. Gently his lips met the soft sweetness of her flesh and he affectionately kissed ever inch of her, until his lips met hers. He savored her essence, a delicate balance of musky wine with a gentle illusion of blackberries and cherry. Lucian devoured her until she implored him to ascend upon her.

He obliged, carefully shifting his muscular frame to where she welcomed him. His mouth met her supple lips as he kissed her hard their tongues twirled in ecstasy. Serena subtly moaned as her erect incisors forcefully bit into her twin’s neck. His essence streamed into her mouth as she savored his sweetness. He in turn, pierced the silky tissue of her neckline releasing a wave of crimson honey engulfing his ravenous form. In concert the two ignited into a sea of primordial bliss until the dance was complete; exhausted they fell into each other’s arms.

***

At first cock-crow the ghosts must go, back to their quiet graves below. ~ Theodosia Garrision

New Years Eve, 2005, Castello di Tullevette

“Margareta none of these will do!” Serena screamed as she plopped herself on her bed with a huff.  She knew she had to hurry or face the wrath of her father. “Margareta, please hurry! You know how papa gets when I am late.” She scolded. Serena hated being reprimanded. She was a woman. She hated how her papa continued to treat her like a girl.  She had grown up long ago. No longer was she the innocent little girl her papa could reprimand and manipulate. Ah! He frustrated her to no end. Yet she couldn’t allow him to get to her. Rather she learned from him. She was now an adult with skills far-outweighing her papa. Yet she withstood any inclination to kill him. It would wait. He was cunning. She had to bid her time. She would face him, like always. But on her terms. She would get to him when he put his guard down. She only wished she didn’t have to contend with his malevolent temper. Relentless. He was cruel to her and to those around him. He was particularly rough with her. She suspected he was justifying this as he was grooming her for greatness. Well newsflash, she had achieved greatness. She would show him and the rest of her famiglia very soon. The day she takes over the Tullevette business.  Lucian, her twin was able to divert the wrath. She had figured out her papas plan by watching his every move. he taught her well. She would give him that. But she hated how her papa treated people. He was horrible to her, he was that and more with others he didn’t like. Serena knew he favored her. Perhaps it was because she reminded him of her mother, Elisabet. He never spoke of her. It was forbidden. Serena could barely breathe without interference from her papa. Typical of those who associated with the Conte. And in turn they could not escape his rage. The list of those he hated him was long and far-reaching, the list who hated him – volumes. Serena vowed she would put an end to it all. She wasn’t sure yet exactly when or where, but she would make him pay. It was only a matter of time. ‘And too think, I am his favorite daughter and he treats me like shit.’ Serena grumbled.  The way he treated the staff was reprehensible. Belittling them to no end. It was hard to witness. But she did, and she learned. She was grateful her papa couldn’t’ be bothered with Margareta.  The woman was likely the only member of the household who escaped the Conte’s anger. She intended to keep it that way. Enough.

“Can you please find something suitable, or I will be forced to have you…” She did not finish her thought. ‘Never mind!” I will look myself.  She couldn’t get angry at the woman she needed her help and antagonizing her would prove futile. “There must be something in that dreadful closet! You know what will happen if…..” Exasperated, Serena sat up and stomped her way back to the closet.  She sifted through the row of dresses. It was too cold for a little dress.  No. I need something warmer.

Margareta had handed Serena dress after dress, blouse after blouse for approval. Serena in turn tossed the rejects to the floor. Serena’s closet a shrine. Racks of dresses aligned the walls arranged by color and length. In between the dresses floor to ceiling rows of shoes and handbags, and more dresses, pants, jeans, and shirts, then more shoes, and handbags, around the room. To one side of the closet a three-way mirror.  In the center of the room an ornate island dresser waist height which held drawers fine jewelry, diamonds, and semi precious stones and undergarments. Serena’s closet was like walking into a high-end boutique – Serena’s personal boutique.

“Here!” Margareta pulled an exquisite black sleeveless sweater and black flowing pants from the rack and handed it to Serena.

Serena stood up and wiggled her way into pants and sweater; very classic and very much Serena. With a flick of the zipper, and a few twirls in the mirror. Serena turned to face the woman. “Margareta, you are the best! Whatever would I do without you?” She exclaimed.

“Wither up and die I suspect,” the slight framed woman replied with a warm tone in her voice. The woman looked back at the girl with adoration worn on her face. Dressed simply, the woman wore a black maid’s uniform, white lace apron and white-collar. Her light grayish hair held on top her head in a bun.

Serena recognized that while Margareta had indeed made an attempt at a joke, she was correct. Margareta was irreplaceable. Employed by the Conte since Serena was born, she was the only mother she had known. Hers died at during childbirth. Margareta’s responsibility was to care for her forgoing her own desires to have a family. Serena was her family. The woman stood up for herself, despite others in the employ of the Conte who were too afraid to be disobedient. Margareta was different. She gained a certain respect from Serena and oddly, the master of the house. Unlike her father, Serena would not forget that. The others, that was debatable.

“You are so cruel. Do you know what papa is planning for tonight?” She questioned as she stepped in to a black silk gown.

“No my Lady.”

“I wonder if it is the party he was so secretive about?” She remembered her father mentioning something about a party the last time they spoke. Only he refused to divulge any information at the time.

“Okay, how do I look?” she stood before the long hanging floor to ceiling mirror.  She stood in black with blood-red accents and red boots. Her dark hair loose, it fell just below her shoulders, clipped up one side with a ruby and diamond hair clip, in the shape of a dragon. I guess I will find out now.  “Margareta,” she paused. “Thank you.”

The woman nodded.

“I must go!” Serena bolted out the door, yelling “thank you!” as she hurried down the long corridor.

***

“So papa what was so urgent I had to rearrange my schedule?” Serena inquired as she entered her papa’s quarters. The Conte often took his dinner in his quarters. He felt the dining area was too large for merely him. A small rectangular table made of the finest mango wood, set for two near door. Large ceramic vases were situated around the room,  a bed, Murano glass chandelier, wormwood buffet table covered with a handmade Belgian lace cloth, two ceramic candle stick holders with tall burnt orange candles and matching ceramic tray providing refuge to a Riedel glass wine decanter. The windows covered with shutters in lieu of draperies, so the Conte could enjoy the light of the full moon.

“Well good evening to you too, my dear.” I’m pleased you could find the time to join me.” He replied.

“Such short notice.” She stated curtly. “I was supposed to open the club tonight, New Years Eve, my busiest night of the year. I must entrust Lucian to cover for me.”

“It would serve you well to quietly sit.

Serena reluctantly sat. She wanted her papa to know she was not at all pleased she was summoned at the last-minute to join him for dinner.

“Your annoyance is noted. Before you say more I urge you to listen.” He waited for her to situate in her seat. “Good. I am so happy you see it my way.”

Always with chide. Serena wondered why it was that her father continually thought of her as a child.  So he could control her. That was why. No more. He was the only one who dared speak to her in such a manner.  She couldn’t bring herself to defy him, yet. She had seen what her father could do when someone failed to listen. He was cruel. His words like a knife could cut even the hardest souls in two. Reprehensible.  Serena had decided it was she who will be reprehensible. The clock was ticking. She had experienced enough from him. Her entire life She had but a few more months remaining before she would execute her plan to over through him. Her birthday.  This would be when she would finally be named as leader of the thirteenth House of Thoth. Yes his little secret wasn’t such a secret anymore. She knew.

“Now that I have your attention.  I plan to host a lavish, yet intimate affair in your honor of your 30^th birthday – a masquerade ball. I’ve taken the liberty to arrange every detail. This will no an ordinary celebration.” The Conte stated firmly.  “You see my dear, you will be indoctrinated into the House of Thoth as head of the Thirteenth House.

Serena blinked widely. “I’m sorry, the head of the Thirteenth House?” Serena was unsure she wanted to be ‘indoctrinate’ into anything. She saw this as her chance to finally release herself from her papa’s grasp. She was quite certain she did not wish to participate in any esoteric ritual to get there. Rumors of such rituals ran rampant through the house. Rumors of a bizarre rituals and esoteric meetings, she saw the comings and goings of the family and various others who were guests of the Conte – her papa, the almighty Conte. She also overheard arguments between her older brother, Dominic and her papa.  She recognized they were different. She was different. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure it out. She learned this, months ago. Finally she would learn the truth about The House of Thoth. She believed those privy to the House were those who possessed great power in their famiglia and power equated to money; in her mind and she desired to have both and at the same time she would destroy those who chose not to follow her. Finally she would have the power to rid her of her papa grasp.  She counted the days.

“This is a prestigious honor Serena. “

A prestigious honor maybe. She would go along with his game. She had her own game. She would turn the table in time. The truth was this so-called party was merely a charade, a ruse to cover up the real event. Typical. He no more wanted to host such a party, than she wanted to attend. It was merely a ruse to get her to participate in the ritual. She didn’t like the sound of this arrangement. She trusted her papa about as far as she could toss a ball. Not far, and certainly not much.

“You and Lucian will at last partake in a rite of passage, if you will;  you both will be formally introduced into the family – into The House of Thoth.  In case you are wondering, I have discussed this with Lucian at breakfast. Just this morning in fact, he took the news rather well. In fact he was ever so delighted to take over for you at the club this evening. So you see you needn’t worry about your precious club. All is well.”

Serena cringed but at the same time felt the anger rise in her blood. He had no right to interfere with her club activities. It was her club, a gift from him…the Conte.  Of course, she must pay for such a gift. It was clear the club was a means for him to control her. She would deal with this later. She was concerned more about the party and so-called rite of passage. Why plan so far in advance? He was up to something. Something he wasn’t telling her. She would find out what that was before this so-called party. Why on earth would he choose to hold a costume party and assume she would be happy dressing up?

“A costume party? Isn’t it a bit old fashion?” she whined. Her spoiled nature was on display so he wouldn’t see through her. She huffed. “I can’t believe you thought I would want a costume party for my birthday? I don’t!”

“A masquerade ball,” he corrected her. “And you will attend, as will your brother. I can’t wait to see the look on his face when I name you as the heir to the thirteenth House of Thoth. It will be a night neither of you will ever forget. I promise you that.  I will be inviting one hundred or so of the family members and another hundred or so of our closest friends. So you see you will be in attendance. It is a celebration, my dear, yours and Lucian’s 30^th birthday. It is a momentous occasion.”

“It will take me an eternity to find a costume, especially for such a lavish affair.  I will not attend.” She complained.

“I thought you might have trouble finding a suitable costume. So, I have taken care of that problem for you. You will be in attendance. In time you will change your mind. You will see.”

“How could you? This is so unfair,” she cried. She sat back in her chair and pouted like a child. She was angry he arranged a costume party for her birthday; he was controlling her, manipulating her, again. Like always. Worse, she was unable to choose her own costume for the affair. The gods only knew what he would select. Her blood boiled. Underneath was a wicked smile she hid from her papa.

“Your costume will be waiting for you in plenty of time for the party. And don’t look so disappointed. You will love it. I promise.”

“I can hardly wait,” she retorted with even less enthusiasm.

“Serena really, you are entirely too old to pout like a five-year old. Please do me the courtesy to act your age.”

“Fine, but I really don’t see why you won’t allow me to select my costume?”

“Did you or did you not just finish telling me, you would not have time?”

“Fine!”

“Then our discussion of the party is over. Trust me, by the time it is here, you will be more than ready.”

“I doubt that.” She mumbled.

“Did you say something?”

“I said nothing. Will you at least tell me more about the House of Thoth and what this esoteric ritual I will be participating in?

“You will learn of it when the time comes.” He got up from the table and abruptly left the room.

The evening did not go as she had plan. Her papa conniving, always manipulating always scheming.  She would learn what this so-called ritual was about before the party. She didn’t like surprises especially where her papa was involved. Serena scoped the room. Alone again. Her papa always so abrupt, he didn’t even wait for dinner. She threw her napkin on the table and stomped off.

***

Serena prayed Lucian had turned up at the club. Her twin often found it more appealing to tramp ‘around’ the club. A player. Serena learned to keep her guard and make sure Lucian was on task when it came to her business. He was a relentless womanizer. Always keen on spending other people’s money.

Wasting no time, she quickly changed clothes not bothering to sequester Margareta for help.  The woman more than likely would give her ‘motherly’ advice venturing out so late at night. It simply was not lady like. She smiled. Perhaps she was right for once. Serena didn’t care. Her cravings were of late too much for her to resist.

She pulled an elegant floor length eggplant colored dress by Dior from her closet, then changed her mind. It was cold and rainy. She chose a pair of black leather pants, a black long-sleeved silk sweater, and black leather boots. She pulled her silky black hair up into a French twist with the same dragon clip, loose ringlets brushing up against the side of her face. Ruby and diamond necklace, matching earrings set in platinum, hung from the tiny lobes of her ears. She looked ravishing. She gazed into the floor length mirror. No really club attire. She didn’t care. Her accents made up for her lack in fashion. She grabbed a small clutch dialed her cell phone and hurriedly down the stairs.

“Lucian, thank the gods you are there. Papa as usual did not stick around for dinner. I will see you around nine thirty.” She hung up the phone and dialed the house line.

“Tobias, tell Henri I need a lift to the heliport immediately!”

******

Three more days….

LA Edwards

There are nights when the wolves are silent and only the moon howls. ~ George Carlin

Late Afternoon, December 31, 2005, Castello di Tullevette, Tuscany

The Conte sat leisurely in his favorite leather chair, legs extended and propped on a leather ottoman, and laptop resting on his legs. The study his favorite room at the Castello, the only room that provided him solace in such an expansive space. He preferred being surrounded by a labyrinth of rare first editions and scientific journals he’d collected throughout his lifetime than the life outside his estate. He was funny like that. He’d spend endless hours embracing the wonders of technology and business ventures from the comfort of his chair, laptop computer and cell phone. He was able to conduct nearly all his business dealings without moving too far from his perch.

His business ventures of past were largely buying and selling companies in financial ruin, or other distress, relieving small and large businesses alike of their burden, pouncing on the weaker companies snatching others as they turned up, leaving everyone to wonder what the hell happened. He was sharp, and sly. Those who conducted business with him were either thrilled or frightened. There was no in between. In fact, it gave him great pleasure to see those around him squirm. A radical game, really. One for which he could manipulate easily without ever leaving the Castello. To the gods how he loved technology.

The Conte spent the entire day party planning, a task he didn’t mind doing, but rarely took on such a burden. This was different. It was his responsibility to plan both a birthday party and esoteric ritual. The party an essentially rouse. The real celebration was what happened in the caverns. And only those in the inner circle would be privy. Conte had to ensure no one except the inner circle learned of this clandestine affair. He was responsible for planning every detail down to the finest of linens and the highest level of security possible so nothing would interrupt the ritual. He was grateful he had months to go. While the guest list was complete it would take up to the party time to make all the necessary arrangements for the ritual. A few tiny details he might call upon favors from either Gorgevy Rostov or Marcus Hadrian, members in the Council, elders, and family to ease the planning.

The Conte looked at the clock on his computer: 5 pm. The day flew by. The Conte spent most of the day planning for the twins celebration. His hand slowly moving the cursor on his laptop to the apple in the corner and switched the computer off. His guest list was complete. He promised himself he would not stress over some of the finer details as he hoped the family would step up and help out, where needed. ‘The party will be fabulous.’ He thought. Now he could focus on the evening at hand.

“Perfetto.” The Conte exclaimed as his eyes reviewed the final list.

The Conte sat back in his Chair. He reflected for a moment. It had been thirty years since the council last met, which was right after the murders of the Akkaidan’s in ’75. It was a horrific time for the famiglia, so many worries whether the attackers would come after others in the famiglia. Most stayed quiet and did nothing outlandish to bring attention to themselves for years. Under the radar. Stealth-like. The Conte liked that word better – stealth. It sounded fierce and mysterious. No one had been arrested for the murders. The case remained unsolved. Even after thirty years. If the Thoth’s were unable to solve the murders, those responsible were invisible. The Conte found it a bit unnerving – no knowing, such uncertainty. It made him nervous. Most of the famiglia remained in shock thirty years after the fact. It was strange no further questions were drawn after the fact. It was like the police were paid off. Perhaps that was what the elders wanted people to believe. He wasn’t privy. He was informed on most of the family business given his status within the inner circle. He often wondered if the Council was responsible for the case going unsolved. They indicated long ago no one had been found to incriminate. They finally let it go. He knew the entire case promoted a huge cover-up in the famiglia to make sure no Thoth was connected. He was merely glad he wasn’t on the receiving line of the hit.  He was fond of his heart and intended to keep it.

While still months away from the party he decided to break the news to Zerina about the party, time to him was ephemeral. The nights would pass quickly. Her birthday would be her before he realized. The timer rang on his computer, alerting him of another engagement that very evening. He had nothing to do but show up. He sighed with relief. But thought made his heart flutter and not in the way he had anticipated.

His thoughts shifted away from the computer screen to the fire. Flames shot out the chimney in an explosion of heat and light illuminating the room the like a stage. “Good god!” The Conte Shrieked! He toppled out of his chair, and nearly onto the floor. The force of his body tossed the chair backward as he hit the table. Its contents including his carafe Brunello splattered onto the floor glassware shattering in the process. Wine and glass painted the hardwood of the floor. Expletives poured from the Conte’s mouth as he tried to wipe off the spilled liquids that transferred to his clothes. What the hell! “Tobias!” he screamed. “Of course that imbecile will never hear me. Good god. What the hell was that!” He repeated, this time directing his comments toward the fireplace. The flames retreated.

His eyes were ancient but his vision was impeccable. Either he was losing his mind or someone was playing a sick joke on him, and he wasn’t amused. The Conte swore he saw his late wife, Elisabet in the flames. While it was brief, it was impossible. Yet without question it she who haunted his soul since the day she perished. She had betrayed him long ago, and sealed it with a confession of her love for another man. From that moment, the Conte vowed to never feel emotion for another being again.

The Conte hollered again for his manservant, Tobias. The mess required cleaning immediately. Such antics would not be tolerated, especially those which involved his late wife. Haunted by the image, he realized the sole purpose for which she had married him was to destroy him. All to fulfill a stupid prophecy; as if delivering twins would eliminate an evil curse. It couldn’t be done. Such betrayal in the end had cost Elisabet her life. He had been humiliated. Reprehensible. No room for pleasant emotions all had been erased. It lasted until he laid eyes on his newborn daughter – Zerena. She had been the exception. The true ‘love of his life.’ And he loved her, to this very day. Unconditionally. He schooled her in the ways in the ancient ways of the famiglia, the language, and all the ancient laws. He was proud, she excelled. Far reaching any expectations he might have had. She was like him in so many ways. Lucian, of course was school as well yet not to the degree of his sister. The Conte’s feelings toward him were abruptly clear. No love. Yet no hate. Indifference. He feared Lucian would be as powerful, as his sister. Such recognition led him to treat Lucian equally as he didn’t want him to suddenly lash out toward him or worse take over the Castello. So he treated his young son well, to remove any risk of a future coup. In fact he treated all his children with respect, or so he thought. And in return, most were content. He gave his son everything and his plan seemed to work as Lucian, showed no interest in the family business, which pleased the Conte. Dominic his elder son, worked also in the business but had no want to stage a coup. All he cared for was having enough money to live the life of luxury. It was easy. Give the children what they want and they will do as you wish them to do. His heart however belonged to his daughter.  And she was like him in almost every way, which at time was unsettling.

He picked up his computer from the floor and he pray the damn thing worked. He needed to change for the evening party soon. He couldn’t believe it was New Years Eve. Time flies. First he would have dinner with Zerena. His thoughts suddenly interrupted.

There was a tap at the door.

“Finally! Tobias get some cloths and take care of this mess, immediately!” The Conte screamed in Italian.

‘Of course My Lord, right away.”

“See to it you remove all signs of this mess. Am I clear? This means removing the carpet if necessary, and replacing it with a new on before the guests arrive. The last thing we need is for our guests to think we are removing dead bodies from the house.

Yes, My Lord.”

“On your way then.” He gestured.

The Conte moved to the window and gazed upon orange haze of the twilight sky. Tuscan sunsets were always soothing no matter the time of year. The view from the Castello was timeless. Perched high atop one of the many hills of Montalcino in southern Tuscany. Castello di Tullevette was well renowned for its panoramic views that outlined the hillside vineyards; not to mention the entire region, and the heart of the finest Sangiovese grapes in the world. Such a great move on my part to capture this Castello. He mused as his mind slowly drifted.

Memories he thought lost returned suddenly. His mind drifted to when he came upon Castello di Tullevette. He wasn’t interested in a take over really. In fact he became friends with the ‘real’ Conte recognizing they had a common interest in beautiful paintings, the ‘real’ Conte requested he stay for as long as he like. When opportunity presented itself, though he pounced like a rapid lion at the chance for he new identity. It happened with such little effort. It was his finest switch in history. So fine, he managed to keep it throughout the years. He was deeply gratified by his cleverness. He felt a hint of guilty on occasion, due to the ease in which he was able to capture control over such a grandiose piece of land and property. Then rationalized his actions by the ‘real’ Conte was merely going to die soon away. Since he had no famiglia the Castello would be sold to whoever could afford to take it over. It was in shambles well, mostly. Dragan quickly took over operations at the castle bringing in his own staff and family, whereby he anointed himself as Conte. Eventually he transformed the Castello into a productive winery producing some of the finest Brunello in the world.

The thought of his vineyard and grapes aroused him, more so, the grapes. Such a delicate fruit, taunt skin, a protective layer, hidden a gel of inner juices that when gently crushed and held in barrels, the grapes transform into something unimaginable. The dark juice when drunk, explodes into ones mouth exuding rich dark tannins, and jam like feel over the tongue. The flavors are as pure as rapture: dark chocolate, raisins, with a hint of vanilla on the finish. Delectable. The wine is unlike any of its kind in the world Brunello. He was drawn now to the crystal on the buffet table, the decanter filled with wine from his latest vintage. Like a virgin: young, fresh, and vulnerable. He was happy to see it was placed away from the fire and chair and did not end up on the floor like the other. Wine was perhaps his second love. He hesitated, knowing he preferred to drink it with his dinner. The wine begged to be drank with food. He couldn’t resist. It was too much. Its colors, deep garnet, which sparkled like dark garnets by the light of the fire. He inhaled the bouquet from the decanter then poured some in a fine crystal glass. The bouquet was surprisingly mature of cherries and port with a hint of vanilla and for such a young wine. He held the glass to his nose, and inhaled. He took in the rich bouquet into his nose, then a sip he allowed gurgled and sloshed the wine around in his mouth before swallowing. While immature, the tannins were soft and well-balanced. He noted the hint of vanilla on the finish. He was pleased. He along with his winemaker made another superb vintage. He retracted that thought as the winemaker had outperformed yet again. He had little to do with this particular vintage. It paid well to hire the best. His contentment drew an uncharacteristic glint of a smile to his face. He took another sip, which reminded him when the Tullevette name became infamous. It occurred after he decided to plant Sangiovese grapes, which was near the time he renovated the Castello in the mid to late 1300s. He learned from the master of Sangiovese grapes – Ferruccio Biondi Santi himself, one of the Conte’s only human friends, and instrumental in the first productions of Brunello wines. To ensure that the Tullevette estate continued to produce the best wines, the Conte hired the best winemaker in the world and groom him along with Santi, and the tradition was passed on down the generations to his current winemaker who is related to his original winemaker. The Conte himself learned the craft to make sure the wines were produced in the original style to this day.

The estate eventually evolved into one of the leading producers of Brunello di Montalcino in all of Italy, in large part a result of the Conte’s brilliance as a winemaker and the establishment of the winery in the fashion of Santi. The Castello is now a vigorous winery and estate inhabited by a hefty vineyard staff, the Conte’s famiglia including Zerena, Lucian, and their older sibling Dominic and a myriad of guards, and household staff. Quite regularly a relative or stops by Castello, especially during the summer months and early fall to see the colors change. The Castillo can house up to twenty guests in the main Castello and another ten or so in the guest quarters in the carriage house and pool house.

It served him well all these years. But it wasn’t until the birth of his twins was he was genuinely happy. Such lifetime of hatred and malevolence without an ounce of happiness, it was no surprise everyone hated him, afraid even. He was a cunning and malicious man. Who waited a lifetime to see the day when his beloved Zerena would complete her transformation and take her rightful place in la famiglia di Thoth. The thought made the Conte smile, then coil. He vowed long ago never to allow anyone to see his pleasure, only his pain, anger, and hatred for those around him.  He had managed to keep that vow.

With his glass in hand, he kept one eye on Tobias and the other on the brilliant Tuscan horizon. It was a view from the upper floors of the Castello. Perched quietly, overlooking deadened hills below, hidden behind the confines of a wrought iron-gate, limestone walls, and state of the art security. He wondered why of all times did he see Elisabet. It made no sense. He definitely saw something that looked like her, but was it her? Of course not. It was merely the flames he decided. He needed to eat. His eyes were playing tricks.

The Conte sipped the vino from his glass each holding the wine in his mouth before swallowing its rich refined flavor. To think it was he who alongside the great Santi, created the precise formula from a hillside of vines, which remained virtually unchanged.

“This Castello has been my home for more than seven hundred years.” He quietly uttered. “Much history lies within its walls. A history based on lies and corruption. When my plan comes to fruition no longer will I need to hide behind the brethren souls which have dictated and imposed their reign and lies over my domain, or of those residing within the House of Thoth. The course of our history, the history of mankind, will be altered profoundly, the world as we know it shall never be the same.” With his words came another glint of a grin to his otherwise pursed lips. He thought of his vow, of Elisabet and Zerena, and the implication of his actions. His thoughts abruptly interrupted by a rap on his door.

Annoyed, the Conte yelled, “Inserisci, Enter!”

“Your illustrious highness, the spill area has been cleaned.”

“Perfetto.”

“The hour is getting late, My Lord. Will you be prefer to have your dinner in the dining area or your quarters this evening?”

“I will be taking my dinner in my quarters this evening. The guests will begin arriving at 9pm sharp. Tobias, alert Zerena her presence is requested in my quarters in one hour.” The Conte barked in his rather brusque Italian voice.

“Of course, My Lord.”

“I trust everything ready for tonight’s New Year’s festivities?”

“Yes my Lord. Everything is how you instructed.” Tobias respectfully replied.

“Excelente.” The Conte sat with his hands held together if he were about to pray, his fingers gently flicked together.

Tobias exited the room. His short frame slouched over and his head held down toward the carpet as he shuffled his feet down the dimly lit hallway of the Castello, leaving the Conte to his solitude.

The Conte was well aware that with great power amassed a measure of hatred. He had for years fought the rumors emanating from his staff, and those who spoke openly among themselves that the inhabitants of the Castello were possessed by an undeniable evil. He believed Tobias was the instigator of such rumors and he was approaching the end of the Conte’s tolerance for the man.

He had dealt with him only out of respect for his wife, Elisabet. Why he allowed him to stay on-staff after her death, he often questioned himself.  Perhaps it there was a measure of guilt associated with his decision. Unlikely.

He heard Tobias has he sloughed down the hallway toward his daughters quarters. The Conte listened as a knocked echoed. He sensed Tobias’ impatience as he waited for an answer.  Then, there it was, the shouting. Zerena indeed was her father’s daughter the Conte mused.

***

“Tobias, I don’t know why you waited until now to tell me my presence is requested tonight. I hate it when you wait until the last fucking minute. Why my papa puts up with you is beyond reason.” Serena shouted.

‘Blah, blah, blah – a broken record’, Tobias muttered. ‘Can’t wait to be free of this lunacy. Being pushed around, no more.’

“Tobias did you say something?” Zerena questioned.

“No My Lady”

“I thought not!” Serena scorned. “It is New Year’s Eve the busiest night of the year for me? I must leave shortly for Florence. Papa knows this. Now I have to arrange for Lucian to cover for me, and at the last-minute. At least I believe he is in Firenze. That is the only plus. What is worse I have nothing to wear. Tobias, go fetch Margareta and tell her to find me something suitable to wear. Black; or maybe red; red would be nice. Pronto! I don’t have much time.” She tossed her hand in the air as she turned toward her closet.

‘Why don’t you go fetch Margareta yourself? Better yet, why don’t you go get your own clothes, like every other person in the world you self-centered bitch.’ Tobias garbled softly, unlikely for Zerena to hear. He knew better than to defy the likes of her. “Yes My Lady,” he hurriedly left the room.

***

Conte listened to his servant’s final remarks his ears sharp as a sharks tooth, or the hidden athamae he kept in his desk drawer. He felt his blood pressure rise.

‘Damn, I’m getting hard just thinking about her. What I wouldn’t do.’ Tobias uttered under his breath. ‘I would love to run my hands through her thick black mane, and grab it, throw her to down on the ground. Show her what it’s like to be with a real man. Too bad she is such a menace. The entire famiglia,’ Tobias muttered.

‘Wait until the world hears that the Contessa never died giving birth to those twins. He was the one, the Conte. The entire Tullevette family will fall or pay me to keep quiet. I must get out of this dreadful Castello before I end up like the others, and I’m running out of time.’ Tobias continued.

“Tobias your words were never more true.” The Conte whispered silently like the wind.

***

Happy Reading!

LA Edwards

Beauty of whatever kind,
in its supreme development,
invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears.
~Edgar Allan Poe