Dark Rapture (62 page)

“You mustn’t be so impatient, Cat. She is nearly dead.” He succeeded in removing his struggling sister from the room and once in the hallway pushed her against the wall and pinned her arms to her sides. “You are acting a mad woman! Have you no restraint?”

“I grow impatient,” she said through gritted teeth, her blue eye flaring madly and the lancet shaking treacherously in her hand. “The little wench barely yielded a teacup full this morning. That is not enough, Rico! I need her blood to stay young! Oh!” Cat noticed the blood that gurgled from her brother’s hand. “Rico, oh no, Oh! you must forgive me.”

She sank before him, dropping the lancet with a metallic clatter on the floor and clutched the hem of his
velada
. “I’ve been so terribly cruel to you. I don’t want to grow old. I…I can’t, Rico. I don’t want to grow wrinkled and ugly. I want to be young…I…I want to live forever!”

“Cat.” He tried to pull her to her feet but misery weighed her down. Rico went on his knees and pressed his sister’s face onto his shoulder. Seeing her in this state was nothing new, though each time it worried him intensely. “You know I will do anything for you. My life is yours to command. I have never failed to grant any of your wishes, and I shall not renege on my promise this time. Everlasting life shall be yours.”

Her face flushed and streaked by hot tears, a smear of brilliant carmine pulled across her cheek from her lips. “When?”

“Soon.”

“Soon,” she pouted. “Why can’t you hurry things along with Signore de la Court?”

“The time is not right, Catrina. We must build him up before we make our move.”

“But Rico, haven’t you realized yet?”

He shrugged.

“Did you not see it in his eyes the other day? The Duchess LeReaux has no idea. We can make our move any time.”

Rico nodded. “I believe you are right,
innamorata
. We could take him now, yes, I know…but…you must permit me a little more enjoyment.” He kissed her knuckles, grazing languorously over her sweet flesh. “Please?”

With a resolute sigh she conceded, “Very well. Far be it from me to deny you your fun. But don’t think I can bear this much longer. I cannot. Did you go to his apartment?”

Rico pulled an embroidered handkerchief from the inner pocket sown in Cat’s décolletage and used it to remove the lipstick from her face. He then wrapped it carefully about his hand. “
Sì.
”

“What did you discover?”

Rico hugged Catrina in his arms, burying his face in her hair and whispered deeply, “Everything Signore Volierre told us is true. I followed him and waited for sunrise. It’s there. He has one he keeps in a secret alcove.”

“Really?” Catrina sniffed away a few lingering tears, her excitement rising. “What was it like? He didn’t know you were there, did he?”

“No, I’m sure he did not.” Rico sat on the floor next to her, their backs pressed to the wall, and stretched his legs across the floor. “It was black. A shimmery black as dark as hell.”

Catrina’s eyes widened in delight.

“It was like most others you’ve seen, except there must have been a lock of some sort on the inside because I tried to lift the lid but it wouldn’t give.”

“Oh, Rico, you’re so bold. You should be more careful, we mustn’t let him find out.”

“But very soon.” He pulled her to his chest, threading his fingers through her hair, and pressing his nose to the crown of her head to inhale the exotic vanilla. “Though I enjoy the chase, I am tiring of this game, Cat. The man is boring and dull. It amazes me. I expected so much more from a creature such as he.”

Catrina nodded agreement. “He is an exquisite lover, but I shall be thankful for the day I never have to touch that horrendous harpsichord again. Oh, I do tire of it, Rico. And my nails, do you see I have to keep them so short or risk chipping them.”

Rico took each of her fingers into his mouth, bestowing upon them kisses of snowflake softness. “After the concert tonight,
innamorata
. I’ve a few more tricks up my sleeve. And then…you shall have what you deserve.”

***

Sebastian fingered the torn lace that peeked out of his frockcoat sleeve. He had owned this outfit for many years; his mother had given it to him. He remembering savoring the feel of the silver-blue velvet against his face, fingering the cool paste jewels that adorned the matching shoes. Now, the velvet was worn bald in places, the lace torn and the jewels all but gone from their metal settings.

This was his best.

He checked the other outfits hanging in the new pine wardrobe among the furnishings in the elegant apartment Rico had provided him. There were four more outfits of browns and faded blacks. They would never do. But he did not have time to send for a tailor. He remembered now the man he had accosted before going on to Catrina’s bed a few nights ago. He had been quite well off from his dress. A silver sword hung at his side and his tricorn had a fluffy red plume in it.

If only I were criminal enough to steal
. But he could never do that. Using innocent mortals to sustain his own life was cruel enough without stealing from them also. This outfit would have to do.

He flipped the cover of his gold pocket watch open and checked the time. He pressed it between his palms, sensing Angelique’s gentle touch upon its shiny cover.
No, I cannot do this. She mustn’t see me.

Perhaps she won’t come.
He couldn’t imagine that she would. Angelique would never accept an invitation with her sister in mourning.
Maybe Jacques would come.

“I hope my plan works.”

Sebastian tossed his wool cape around his shoulders and stepped out onto the streets, spying a haggard cat watching him from a window ledge across the
calle
. His new apartment was a ten minute walk along the Rio della Sensa to the Palazzo Bellange.

When he arrived, Rico had him run upstairs and retrieve Catrina. “Our guests are just arriving. The Duchess la Poozan has returned this evening, I’m sure you’ll remember her. And Signore Bassano is here also. I’m afraid the Duchess LeReaux and her son had to decline. But off with you now, Bastian. Run along up to Cat. She will bring you down and announce you later.”

With great relief, Sebastian strode up the stairs. She was not coming! Thank God. He would not have to enact his plan after all.

Catrina greeted him with a hug and a deep kiss that instantly warmed his frigid bones. “Ice cold again?” she noticed, placing her hands on her damask covered hips. “It’s the middle of winter, Bastian, why is it you don’t see fit to dress any warmer? Ah, don’t tell me, I think I know. But here, I’ve solved the problem.”

She went to a silver-hinged dressing trunk, about as high as her shoulders, and opened it to reveal a wardrobe adorned with crisp white laces and shimmering jewels. “For you,
mi amore
. If you are to perform for society’s finest than you should also have the finest. Don’t be shy. Come.” She held out her hand. “Try them on.”

Sebastian stepped over to the trunk and ran his hands over the black silk and then the kitten softness of the fur that graced the cuffs of a new wool coat. Catrina kissed his cheek and her vanilla scent lingered sweetly.

“Wear the red for me tonight, will you?”

The red silk slipped between his fingers like blood in the rain. “Yes, red. How exquisitely perfect.”

“Now, my love, I’m going downstairs to help Rico greet our guests. Did Rico mention that the Duchess LeReaux declined?”

“Yes, but with her sister in mourning I’m sure—”

“
Sì
, but I’ve already planned for her to come share a drink with us in the near future. I’ll come for you shortly, Bastian.”

Sebastian caught Catrina by a handful of her white skirts and pulled her to him. He kissed her, milking her body of a long and precious moan, as he felt her body slacken in his arms.

“Oh,” she said, recovering slowly from his kiss. “What was that for?”

“For the most beautiful woman in all of Venice,” he said. “Thank you, Catrina Bellange.” He kissed her hand. “For everything.”

She backed away with a sly grin curling up her lips.

“Why Catrina, I do believe I’ve made you blush.”

In an elegant movement of grace she retrieved a fan from her vanity, snapped it open and disappeared out the door.

***

He felt a prince in the red silk
velada
his lover had provided. White lace, imported from Belgium tickled his hand, and the same lace tied at his neck. Standing before the floor mirror, Sebastian summed up his appearance.

“Not so terribly pale,” he said. The white jabot matched his un-fed complexion, while his dark hair framed it in midnight elegance. And with all worry of meeting his mother vanquished, Sebastian relaxed. “What?”

Hearing a strange noise out in the hallway, Sebastian rushed out and looked toward the marble stairs. No one there. He looked the other way, the hallway stretching yards beyond him, and saw there was someone down the way, someone crawling, or maybe had fallen.

His new shoes clicked across the parquet as he rushed to assist. As he neared the person, he saw it was a young girl dressed in a thin gauze night robe. Must be one of the unfortunate children Catrina took in.

The girl looked up to him, her hair tousled about her head and crusted in spots by what seemed to be and smell of vomit. “Please, Signore.” She pulled herself forward with her hands and clutched Sebastian’s ankle, pulling the white hose down into furrows. “You must help me.”

“
Oui
, I must get you back in bed.” He had to pry her bony fingers from his ankle and was ready to hoist her into his arms when he noticed she had only one leg. And where her other leg should have been, her nightgown was stained a deep brown and stank of the most vile odor he had ever encountered.

“No!” She hissed and with a great thrust, pushed her body upright so she leant back against the doorjamb. “You must get me out of here, Signore. Please! I don’t want to die! I am strong…I can fight this. She is mad!”

“You will surely die if I don’t get you back into bed.”

Sebastian scooped up the girl and carried her over to the bed. His senses were flooded with the foulness of her odor, but he persevered. Her arms flailed madly, hitting him across the side of the head and her hands pulled at his hair. He cringed as he lowered her to the bed and she ripped many strands of hair from his scalp.

“No! You do not understand! She is mad!” Long strands of hairs floated through the air as she waved her hands back and forth, as if fending off an unseeable demon. “The red-haired woman who comes to me, she is wicked! She will bleed my veins dry—”
“What is this!” Rico appeared at the doorway, shadowed by Catrina who peeked over her brother’s shoulder.

“She was on the floor,” Sebastian turned to explain but found himself instantly being escorted out of the room by Rico. “But—”

“No, Signore, do not leave me!”

“She is delusional,” Rico reassured firmly as he pulled Sebastian out into the hallway. “They are always like that right before they expire.”

Expire
. There was that word again, always used so casually by Rico. Sebastian sucked in his bottom lip and tried to see back into the bedroom but Rico steered him the opposite direction.

“Help me, Signore!”

What was it she had said about the red-haired woman? She will bleed her dry? Were these the words of a delusional girl or a truly frightened child?

“Leave her to Catrina. Ahh—” Rico stopped and held a finger in the air as he eyed Sebastian. “You hear that?”

The screams had silenced. Quite abruptly, Sebastian noticed.

“She has already settled down. Now then, you run along and change your coat.” Rico lifted the hem, stained a slippery brown, most likely from the girl’s gown as Sebastian had carried her to the bed. “I’ll be right there. I just want to check with Catrina to see everything is well.”

With one last glance toward the sickroom, Sebastian unbuttoned his coat and gingerly removed the soiled silk as he disappeared into his room.

Rico peeked into the sick room to find Catrina examining the brown stain across the front of her skirt. “Any problems?”

Catrina blew a strand of hair from her face then lifted the thick goose feather pillow from the bed to reveal the girl’s face, frozen in a death stare. “Not at all.”

***

When all had left for the night, Rico remained, his arms spread across the back of the divan, his sister’s head resting upon his chest.

“Come, Bastian.”

Catrina patted her lap and Sebastian went to lay his head across the flowered yellow and blue damask. He wasn’t sure why she had changed from the white dress but the blue fabric certainly captured the brilliance of her right eye. She spread her palm across his cheek and lifted the silk ribbon from his hair, releasing it from its bindings.

He hugged her legs, feeling safe, welcome, and loved.