Dark Rapture (47 page)

“I’ll order you a new mirror.”

“No,” she said quickly, almost too quickly, for Anthony froze in the bathroom doorway with broom and dustpan in hand. Scarlet shrugged, trying to act as if it was nothing unusual. “I don’t need it. There’s the mirror in here. I’m just so tired now, Anthony, leave me alone.”

Seeing she was in an abnormally discontented state, Anthony flipped the bathroom light off and started out of her room, never being one to question a vampire when he or she was in a foul mood.

But he stopped by the door and spoke softly. “You do know it is
him
who has so little control?”

So he had overheard her. “What do you mean?”

“I sense your discontent, Scarlet. You live with a man who must constantly know your whereabouts and exercise a certain control that makes you feel lost, not really yourself. While I can’t say I could ever begin to understand the vampire condition, I will tell you that you are not the captive.”

She tilted her head, prompting him to go on.

“Well…Sebastian is. He is the one who cannot function without you. That is why he keeps such a tight grasp on you.”

She had never thought of it that way before. “So you’re saying…”

“You are in control, Scarlet. Don’t ever think you are not.”

Anthony winked and left her to her brooding.

But his words buried deeply into her being.
You are in control…

Chapter Seven

Spain, 13
^th
century

“How is it that you…that you came to…” She didn’t know how to broach the subject. Thankfully Adriano read her mind.

“That I came to be a vampyre?”

“Were you born that way?”

“Nay.” He laid a hand across her thigh and settled back against the coverlet. A tuft of gray fur flicked across his ear. “I was cursed by a witch.”

“A witch! Heaven’s mercy. Adriano, how awful for you.”

He gave a subtle nod of his head as if caught up in the torrential memory of his past. “I agree with you. It is dreadful this life I must lead. But I have no choice. Well…I had a choice…of sorts.”

“Tell me, husband. Tell me everything so I may better understand you. I want to know you completely. For only than can I serve you as best as I can.”

Adriano let out a gentle sigh and smoothed his hand along Esmarelda’s cheek. Like a gentle lamb she nudged her face into his touch, encouraging more if offered. It had been nary a fortnight and she had already fallen deeply into his spell. It mattered not to her that he was a vampire, for she had begun to see past the beast and to the true heart that lay beneath the vicious rumors.

“You are too good, lady Esmarelda. God’s tears, I do not deserve you.”

She lay down, resting her head in his lap, her silence a plea for his confession.

“It was decades ago,” he started. “I was all of seventeen. A feisty young rascal, with eyes only for the ladies and not for the harvest my father tried so desperately to make me participate in. I was enjoying the rites of manhood. I took great pleasure in discovering all there was to this lovely creature called woman. Until I came upon the witch.”

His fingers tensed upon her scalp, twisting thick cords of her hair in his grasp.

“She came to me disguised as a lovely young woman. I remember distinctly the thick dark coils of hair that crowned her head and her long white fingers beckoned, and the glint in her dark eyes. I should have known right then,” he said, then paused. “I’ve never seen eyes so dark, so virtually colorless. It is not natural. Even my own eyes of black can still reflect the light. But hers…they did not. Though I thought no more than a few moments on this as I followed her into the shadows.

“We kissed and held one another for a time. Time enough to rouse my body so my mind was nearly abandoned. But when I went to take her I saw that she had her cycle. This disturbed me. I did not think it right to take a woman at this time. Regretfully, I refused, saying perhaps we should wait until another day. She flew into a rage. ‘Why is it you cannot stand to have me in your arms?’ she yelled. I didn’t want to explain. I was embarrassed and did not want to offend her. Though it was too late for that. She turned and walked away from me. When she paced back I nearly screamed. Her face had changed. There were distinct lines about her mouth where once smooth skin had been. Her hair had lightened to a dull gray. I knew at once she was a witch.”

Esmarelda clutched her husband tightly as she listened to his tale.

“She started chanting. Saying something I know now to be a curse. She said she would cure me of my distaste for blood. At that very moment I fell to my knees and a piercing streak of white thunder ripped through my body. It was as if my very insides were fighting to take leave of my body. She sauntered over to me and looked over my writhing body as I struggled against this unseeable pain. ‘You like your women, do you my foolish boy? I’ll see to it you shall suffer all eternity for the love you so desire.’

“She then cursed me with the need for blood, saying I was to become vampyre before the next full moon. I would crave the blood of mortals and need it to sustain my miserable existence. But there was one condition she put on me no other blood drinker carries. I can only drink the blood of women, and first I had to marry them. She, thinking I would not marry for anything but love, so I would know great loss over and over again as my wife dies by my hands.

“Ah, but I learned quickly enough. I have not taken a wife in the name of love since the death of my first wife.”

Esmarelda swallowed.
He admits he has not loved another to avoid the pains of the witch’s curse. So I am just sustenance to him
.

“That explains everything,” Esmarelda muttered to herself.

“The sun rises soon.” Adriano sat up and eyed his clothes strewn across the bed. He wore a cloak of misery across his shoulders. His sigh hit Esmarelda hard in the heart. “I must bare this curse for eternity.” He clutched Esmarelda’s hand to his chest where she felt the rampant pounding of his life. “You understand now it is not something I purposely sought for myself. I had no desire to ever become vampyre.”

“Sí, my husband, I do. It is an ordeal you have to face each day as the sun sets on the horizon. I-I don’t know what to say. I wish to lessen your misery. But know not.”

He pulled her hair across his fingers as if fine spun gold examined by a merchant. “You have already brought me the sun. Until the morrow, my lady.” He lifted his things from the floor and dressed quickly as Esmarelda silently watched.

While listening to her husband’s brisk footsteps descend the stairs, she twisted the silver band about her finger. It was not new. In fact, it was quite worn. She noticed there had once been carving on it and now there were only shallow indentations. It had been worn before.

Esmarelda’s head spun dizzily from the loss of blood. She was growing weaker. Her muscles were sore each day as she rose from her bed. Her teeth ached when she chewed her meals.

And you too shall also be dead.

“I love you, Adriano,” she whispered.

Her eyelids closed over her teared eyes. Could she die for her love?

“Yes,” her whisper slipped between her parched lips. “Before God I vowed to love and honor you. And I will not break my vow. I will die for you, Adriano, if only I may bring your tormented love to my grave.”

***

Los Angeles, present

Rico Bellange’s mansion sprawled across a ten acre lot set at the base of a lush green hill in Brentwood. The area was peopled with old money and nosy neighbors, but Rico had moved in three decades ago, and had established himself early on as a quiet man who wished to be left alone. And so he and his
family
lived in relative peace.

Vince walked the stark white marble floors in awe. His jaw hung slack as his eyes took in the ornate majesty of the place. The furniture was lush and old, which Vince figured to be from one of those decadent centuries, judging from the ornate rococo woodwork and brilliant damask cushions of deep azure. A winding marble staircase led up to the second floor, most likely where the bedrooms were. On the walls hung paintings and lithographs by Dürè and Mucha. Vince was sure they had to be worth a fortune. And they were all, strangely, of the same subject; angels.

So I am a wicked angel
, Vince thought with a sly grin. Sounded kind of sexy. Wicked angel.

He scanned the grand room, checking the balcony, seeing there were many doors upstairs. He wondered how many other vampires lived here.

“There are a few others,” Rico said, seeming to have read Vince’s mind. “You’ll meet them later, I’m sure. They’re most likely hunting this time of night. Come. I’ll show you the recording studio.”

Vince followed Rico’s swift footsteps. “So what is this place, sort of a home for wayward vampires?”

Rico chuckled. “I’ve never thought to call it that before. No, I think of it as a haven, a place for my family to exist and survive without suspicion or inquiry from the mortal world. “

Vince eyed another painting crackled into deep lines around the edges. Traces of dust had settled into the cracks. He dared not touch it for fear of brushing away the fragile paint. “You’re really into this angel thing, aren’t you?”

Rico chuckled and stopped beneath the Carravagio Vince examined, which featured a rosy-cheeked cherub. “My tastes are quite eclectic, Vince. I live in heaven and hell at the same time. I’ve surrounded myself with angels and fine things and friends of my nature. This” —he spread his arms wide to encompass the room— “is my heaven.”

Vince looked around again, thinking this luxurious house surely was a heaven on earth. No mortals. No Goths, or vampire-movie fiends in search of the true blood.

“And at the same time,” Rico continued. “I live the vampire’s curse. Drinking blood, shunning the ignorance of mortals, and living an eternity without ever knowing my true destiny. This” —his hands clutched tight to his chest— “is my hell. Both of which, you will find, I am quite content with. Come along.”

“So it’s only vampires allowed? That’s cool.”

“Well…no. You’ll see eventually. We haven’t completely cut ourselves off from the mortal world. Unfortunately we do need them to survive.”

Vince followed Rico. Yes, mortal blood. So sweet. Better than any alcoholic drink or drug ever created by the mortals.

“Though I am surprised you get along so well in the spotlight, Vince. Does the job pay so well that it’s worth the flirtation with mortals?”

Vince strode beneath a sparkling light fixture and jabbed a finger into one of the hanging crystals, causing it to tinkle dully. “Rock n’ roll never pays well, unless you’re one of the heavy hitters. It’s something I love to do. Singing, that is. But I don’t get into Wild Child’s music anymore. My life has taken a complete turn around since I’ve become a vampire.”

“I understand,” Rico said placing a lit candle in a brass holder on the wall.

“Yeah, I think you do.” Vince eyed Rico curiously as the candlelight flickered across his face. He was immediately taken aback at what he saw.

Rico noticed his dismay. “My eyes? Most people are surprised or intrigued.”

“I didn’t notice before. It was so dark.”

Vince tried not to stare but he was fascinated. Rico’s left eye flashed in gemstone blue, a brilliant azure that defied all depth, while the other was a dead gray. Vince swallowed and looked down at the man’s hands in an attempt to not be rude. The rings on his fingers were all silver, the one with the blue stone almost a matching eye to his colored one.

“Whoa.” Vince staggered suddenly.

“What’s wrong?”

“Sneak attack.” Vince pressed his fingertips to his forehead and squeezed his eyes tightly in an attempt to erase the gaudy images that seeped across his vision. “Ah, it’s nothing.” He pulled his fist across his forehead, smoothing away the visions. His victim’s nightmares had finally come, though they were not as terrible as past experiences. “Well, it’s sort of funny actually. I just had this flash. A nightmare.”

“Really?” Rico said with an amused gleam. “The girl in the alley?”

“Yeah. It’s the most hilarious image. The chick I drained, she was sitting in front of the mirror crying, and there was hair all over the floor, like it had all fallen out or something. Can you believe that!” He chuckled. “A mortal woman’s nightmare. Oh, to have such a hellacious life. I gotta switch my diet from all those groupies, man. It’s just too weird some of the nightmares they have.”

“Ha! I’ve had a few of those myself.” Rico spread out his arms to encompass the room. “So what do you think?”

Vince scanned the room, finding the studio was equipped with the works. From what he could see of the control room everything was state of the art and digitally mastered.

“Man, this is great. Does anyone ever use this stuff?” He reached up and flicked his finger through the dust that had settled on the microphone.

“Well, I surely have no idea how to use any of it.” Rico scanned the assortment of equipment lined along the wall in the control room. “Blake, a friend of mine who lives here, has a band, of which I’m sure will interest you. Though I’m not sure he knows how to operate any of this fancy gadgetry either. Perhaps if you are familiar with the equipment you could help him out? I understand they still need a singer…”

Vince nodded as he thought about the possibilities. It would be cool to work with his own kind. Lately Gary was more trouble than he was worth. If it wasn’t for his interest in Scarlet, Vince would probably tell Wild Child to take a hike.

Scarlet.
What was it about her? Vince knew she loved Sebastian, but—the way she had watched him tonight—she hadn’t been able to look away until his victim had slumped at his feet. She had been intrigued and more than a little curious.

“Vince?”

“Huh? Sorry, I was just thinking.”

“About?”

“Um, I was wondering if Scarlet made it home all right.”

“Ah yes, the lovely green-eyed vampiress. You like her. I can tell.”

“No, ah, well…yes. But as far as she’s concerned we’re just friends. She’s doing a favor for me. I’ve some diaries written in French she’s reading.”

“Really? She speaks French?”

“Yeah, she does, very talented chick. I found these diaries in the crypt in the basement of the mansion where I live. The mansion has been in the family for over a century. Anyway, I have a feeling that one of them may have a clue to where I might find my father. I’ve never met him, you see. Uh…I’m an in-born, my mother was mortal and my father a vampire. I really want to find him, to see what he’s like, see if there are any similarities between us and ask him why he’s stayed away all this time.”