NightFall: Book One: Bloodlust Is the Cure for the Immortal Soul (17 page)

“I hope it is true.” Van slipped his black boots on, and headed out the front door.

*

“Raven!
Wake up, you lazy excuse for a vampire.”

Raven opened her black eyes. “Oh, father. I sprung from your loins. I have to say, I g
et it honestly.” She smiled dev
iously.

“No. You get it from your human mother. May her rotted corpse rest in
peace.
” His voice held no sympathy for Raven’s deceased mother. He actually despised her. She was surprisingly willing to be injected with his DNA to see if she could get pregnant with a half-breed mutation. She must have been pretty desperate to have a baby. They result: his sorry, no-good daughter, Raven. She wasn’t even a full-blooded vampire. There was nothing worse in his book. He only did it for the money. It was a good thing they only needed his
DNA. He didn’t want to have to touch
the human woman, much less have sex with her.

Raven’s black eyes flared with fire. “Don’t you
dare
talk about my
m
other!
She gave birth to me. They only thing I’m sorry for is to be
your
offspring!”
she said scathingly.

She was rewarded with a harsh slap in the face. It stung, but by now, she was used to the abuse her father doled out. She brought a hand to her stinging cheek. She didn’t bristle too much like she used to. It was more humiliating than painful.

“Now listen up, Raven,”
Zane ground out. “You have to be on watch tonight. Van Pirone
is meeting a human by the name of Simone Timms. Find out what
you can. Blend if you have to.
” He laughed dryly. “They one good thing about being your father is your quick ability to do things it takes most vampires decades to centuries to master.”

He finished filling her in. “They will be at the
Louvre Museum. Follow them,”
he commanded.

Raven stepped into her room, dressing in blue jeans and a lavender blouse. “What are you going to be doing in the meantime?” She asked from behind the door.

Zane rolled his eyes in exasperation at having to answer
her.
“A family reunion of sorts.
”
His malicious smile always gave Raven the creeps. “You have a half brother, Raven. What of that?”

Raven snorted, but was surprised nonetheless. She wondered what
other
poor human woman agreed to
take
his DNA this time. “I have a brother?”

“Half!
In a way.
I
transformed him,”
he admitted haughtily.

Raven was relieved Zane didn’t impregnate another poor soul. She managed to look unimpressed. “Whatever. Why didn’t you tell me about him? Afraid we’ll be one big happy family?” She laughed dryly.

“His name is Saldivar,”
he said, choosing to ignore her cheeky remark.
“He is
over eight hundred
years old. Quite the adversary if we were to battle. Maybe you s
hould have a go at him first,”
he quipped, which Raven didn’t find the least bit funny.

“You would just love it, wouldn’t you, Zane? Pit me and Saldivar against each other, hoping we would kill one another off? Then, you would be free of me.” She simpered melodramatically. “We both know what a
huge
burden I am to you.”

Zane glared at her. “Oh,
shut up, Raven. Do as I say,”
he boomed.

“Fine.
Fine.
I’m outta here.” Raven picked up her purse and left. She would have to feed quickly so she’d have plenty of time to spy. Sometimes she wondered why she even bothered, given how crass Zane always treated her. But then, she knew why. Zane kept her from laboratories and mean doctors with strange probes. If they ever found her again, she would never be able to leave the clutches of those people and that hideous, sterile hospital. She shuttered. No way was she going back.

But what Zane didn’t know was that
she was working with the OVI. Mr. Hobbs agreed anonymity for information on vampires. And he protected his sources well. He was paid well enough to keep his mouth shut. And he would. He wouldn’t want to face the wrath of Raven if he breached that trust.

Raven smirked impishly. She wasn’t her father’s daughter for nothing. She could keep secrets from him just as easily as he could from her.

Raven scanned the back alleys. She managed to find an unsuspecting male. She’d feed quickly. No need to relax him. The abundance of alcohol he’d consumed earlier should work nicely. He certainly wouldn’t remember. He probably didn’t even know his own name right about now.

She grabbed him and tapped a vein and drank, savoring his blood as it flowed warmly down her throat. She finished and then let the drunkard sink back down to the ground in a drunken stupor.

Man,
she thought
, wiping her mouth when she finished feeding. She hoped she didn’t get drunk. The man had downed enough alcohol for the both of them.

She knew she would be fi
ne, of course.
Besides, she had work to do. Reluctantly, she headed for the Louvre Museum, not bothering to Blend or turn Invisible. She could only stay Invisible for twenty minutes at the most. It wouldn’t bode well to reappear in the museum. Van and Simone wouldn’t even notice she’d be there. She’ll walk around, sipping a
cafe au lait
, pretending to be engrossed in the archaic pieces of art, never letting on that she was eavesdropping. Zane would tell her she was taking unnecessary risks. Well, what he didn’t know………..

She stopped at a vendor to get a coffee then walked through the museum’s doors.

*

Saldivar tread back and forth on Van’s hardwood floor. Were it carpeted, he would have left it threadbare by now.

Something was amiss. He could feel it. He just couldn’t put his finger on it. The thought frustrated him. His psychic abilities were revered amongst vampires. He could normally pinpoint a problem or a solution to one rather nimbly. He could foresee things before they came to pass.

Now all he could feel was a sense of prescience. His stomach felt like he had swallowed a boulder and a ton of bricks was resting on his shoulders.

No, something wasn’t right. Something was coming.
But from where?

Not more than two minutes later, Saldivar heard a rustling outside Van’s front door.

Odd.
He didn’t feel a presence. But someone was there. He stared at the door, his gaze, steadfast. He saw a slip of folded paper slide under the door. It was just a piece of ordinary white writing paper but it seemed to stare at him, waiting for impending doom. He had a feeling that this was more than a slip of paper
.

Saldivar gradually made his way to the paper. He bent down, picked it up and unfolded it. He gasped. He was in complete shock as he read a poem called ‘Heart of Darkness’. He read aloud:

“Bounded by his love

Of fresh, red blood.

The need to kill

Runs like a raging flood.

Sink the teeth

Into soft, satin skin,

Feeling the beast

Unleash from within.

Draining their life force,

Piercing through your veins,

Every ounce of their energy,

Every scream of their pain.

The need to feed

On mortals’ souls,

The feeling of power

That I can behold.”

Saldivar swallowed. He studied the depraved poem. It was written by hand but it wasn’t signed.

Of course not.
That would make it easy for me.
This…..this
thing
enjoys a prov
ocation.

The hand writing looked vaguely familiar. It had a uniqueness all its own. The author didn’t bother trying to camouflage his writing.

What did he mean for this to insinuate? What underhanded th
ing did this author have in mind? And what kind of person writes this hatred?

All Saldivar knew was that this thing’s intent was clear.

He wants to b
e the very bane of my existence
,
he assumed. He could feel pure evil radiate from the single sheet of paper.

Saldivar knew this much: the author wanted to be found. He crumpled the sheet of paper. He let his arms fall to his sides. He opened his fist and allowed the crumpled ball to fall to the floor, leaving it there. He locked his fists tightly at his sides. He had a strong inkling who wrote it. He had to be right.

Saldivar clenched his teeth. His eyes were wild with rage. He whisp
ered darkly through his teeth,
“Zane.”

*

Van and Simone were strolling through the museum, appreciating the arts, picking their favorites. It was somewhat difficult to do. There was a plethora of lovely and delicate looking pieces, abstracts and sculptures to choose from. Some were just a hodge-podge of brilliant colors coming together to form a remarkable picture.
Simone smiled with giddiness as she was finally able to see the
Mona Lisa
by
de Vinci
in real life.
She saw
The Wedding Feast at Cana
by
Veronese
and
The Coronation of the Virgin
by
Pietro
.

Next, they moved on to the sculptures. Simone became fascinated of the sculpture of
Neptune calming the waves
by
Adam.
He stood there, frozen in time, holding a powerful trident in his large hand. Van loved watching the thrilled look on Simone’s face.

This magnificent piece of art was sculpted in 1733. Thirty-three years after his transformation. That was one of the great things about being immortal: experiencing great artist
s
such as these before they passed.

Simone and Van walked on. Simone stopped at the
Lion and Serpent
by
Barye
. She ran her hands over the mane of the lion. “I can’t believe I’m looking and touching something so very old,” she said, mesmerized.

Van swallowed. He was
a many years older than that artful piece.
He wished Simone would glide her hands over him as if he were an ancient sculpture.

Instead,
Van told her some delightful facts on Paris. She now knew that the Louvre is one of the largest museums in the world. That in three more days, France would be celebrating Bastille Day. It is one of Frances’ national holidays. Bastille was once a fortified prison that the people of Paris captured in 1789.

What Van carefully omitted from his statement, however, was that he was there during the capture. He had come back to Paris simply for that purpose before moving on. Paris was his native land. He wanted to help in any way he could.