Darkness Embraced (4 page)

If I became an Elder, I would sit with her again. Mayhap, not so close as I once had. I would not kneel like a loyal bitch beside her throne.

I would have a small throne of my own, but I would always have to see her.

So be it.

In all the years that Vasco had sheltered and protected me from the cruelty of the other Elders, he could not save me from this. Two hundred years as an Underling, as being treated as a common vampiric whelp, and I feared I was starting to believe it.

I wrapped my palm around the doorknob. If I could run away, far away…would I?

I searched inside myself for the answer.

No.

If there was one truth to my damned existence it was that being someone’s bitch for two hundred years was getting old. One cannot constantly live in the fear of potentialities. There comes a time when you realize it is not so much fear that you have to conquer, but the self from which it springs.

Having experienced my own death, you would think I wouldn’t be afraid of anything. Yet, there are certain emotions and instincts that are not so easily erased from the mind, immortal or no.

I wore red, red like freshly spilled blood. There was a long strand of white lace that crisscrossed up the front of my torso, tied securely, holding the dress closed. Vasco was just outside my door, leaning against the stone walls of the hallway as if it was all oh-so-boring to him. A smirk crooked the corner of his mouth.

I held my arms out with my palms up and did a little turn. “Well?”

“Hmm,” he murmured, “you’re going to wear a dress?”

I pulled the skirt of the dress up to reveal the white leggings tucked into my knee-high boots. “I am wearing pants underneath, Vasco.”

“Ah, well,” he said, “that makes it a bit more practical.”

The look in his face changed.

I tilted my head. “What? What’s the look for?”

“Colombina, I have to check you.”

“Check me for what?”

“Weapons.”

I laughed. “Oh. Good grief! Where in the world would I hide a weapon in this dress?”

He shrugged. “It’s mandatory. Turn, face the wall, legs spread…”

Vasco’s mouth erupted in a fierce grin.

“I bet that’s the first time you’ve ever said that to a woman.”

I did what he asked. I turned, faced the wall, and placed my feet evenly spaced. “Get it over with.”

Vasco glided forward. He didn’t take his time about it. If I had been a male, and a pretty male at that, his hands might’ve lingered. Fortunately, they didn’t. It wasn’t personal. Vasco might not have liked women, but I did and I didn’t like men touching me just as much as Vasco didn’t like having to touch a woman. We were on the same page in that book. His hands trailed the curves of my torso, down my legs, sweeping inside my skirt.

His hands were between my knees when I knew he’d felt my body tense in discomfort.

“Colombina, be thankful that it is I doing this and not one of the others…”

I rolled my neck, forcing myself to relax as his hands continued their upward sweep. “I am thankful.”

He did a series of quick pats near my inner thighs. I was grateful it was Vasco. I didn’t trust one of the other Elders to touch me. Who knew what kind of liberties they’d try to take? It’s a shame sometimes that we try to be so civil. There were a few Elders that I wouldn’t mind driving a sword through.

I felt more than saw Vasco stand. “Turn.”

“Wondrous,” I said, turning. He was going to pat down my front.

I felt his hands gliding over my stomach, a second before I realized his hands were hovering above my breasts. It appeared as though he wasn’t sure what to do.

I started laughing.

“They don’t bite, Vasco.”

I leaned forward, wiggled a little to get the material to give, and then held my breasts up. I didn’t flash him, just showed him that there was nothing hiding in my cleavage. “See, no dagger. No shotgun. No wooden stakes.” It was my turn to grin. “Call me skeptical, but I don’t think an AK Forty-seven would fit in there.”

“Epiphany, you are being cruel and have been reading too much for your own good.” He crossed his arms defensively over his chest.

“Perhaps I have been reading too much,” I said, “but I am not being cruel. I just think it’s amusing, is all. You should be thankful that I’m not a lover of men, or one of the female Elders that wouldn’t hesitate to try and take liberties.”

“They would not dare,” he said in voice gone cold and dark. His tone was cold enough to drain the heat out of the sun.

I went still.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I shouldn’t have teased you.”

“No, you should not have. I am just thankful I do not have to touch them.” He actually shuddered.

“If I hadn’t teased you, you would’ve forced yourself to check and make sure I wasn’t hiding anything. Which is why I did what I did. Sorry, Vasco, but neither one of us wants you to feel me up.”

“For that,” he said jokingly, “I might praise some form of Divinity.”

I made a little “hmph” noise in my throat. Vasco didn’t really believe in anything, to my knowledge. I wasn’t sure what I believed. Oh, I believed in some form of Divinity, in some kind of Divine. The Big Bang theory really didn’t explain how I was capable of dying every single dawn and waking the following night.

He turned and looked down the torch lit hallway as if someone were talking to him from the other end of it. I knew there was no one there. It was just Vasco and I.

“We need to go.”

“Vasco,” I said trying to disguise the uncertainty in my voice with blankness, “what are the challenges?”

His hand lifted as he thoughtfully touched one of his tiny braids. “Epiphany, I cannot tell you. Our Queen has not given me permission.”

“Do you think I will succeed?”

He shook his head. “I do not know.” His hand touched my shoulder. “I wish that I could offer you some words of comfort, colombina, I really do.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “I know.”

I started walking down the hallway. I didn’t have to look back over my shoulder to know that Vasco was there. I may not succeed, but one thing was sure. I needed to feed, and soon. We walked in silence, following the lit torches that led to the banquet hall. A spill of lamplight, much brighter than the torches, flooded out from the double doors that were held open by one of the lesser vampires. His long blond hair hid his face from our view. I bowed my head in acknowledgement as Vasco and I entered the room and found a seat among the tables.

It was a large room, with several rectangular tables in the area closest to the doors. The cloth on the table was black. I did not know if the black was chosen because it gave the room a dreary feel, or because blood doesn’t show very much. There were wine glasses placed neatly at the end of black placemats.

Renata was not here. Thankfully, she did not feed with the rest of the clan. Vasco chose a seat and I followed. I felt the Elders watching from their segregated table. He had chosen a spot away from everyone else. No doubt, the Elders were not happy with his decision. I sat beside him. There was a small flamed heater built into the table, as there was no electricity within the Sotto. Running electricity underground wasn’t a good way to stay unnoticed by the humans that surrounded you above ground.

The nearest city was Bolivar. Though most of us had not seen it. We stuck to wooded areas, living in underground tunnels and chambers that were made centuries ago by mortal slaves.

When the beginning of our kind spread out across America, they saw it necessary to establish kingdoms where we could live in secrecy but at the same time find sustenance. It was necessary for us to reside where mortals could not find us. This was why we executed Il Deboli. Their non-allegiance and solitary ways often ended up drawing attention to our world and existence. It was a measure of precaution for the sake of our kind.

Why did we not live openly? There were a few vampires throughout our history that had been brave enough to step out of the shadows. Those that did so were met with resistance and persecution. In England, before the rise of modern medicine, some humans considered the consumption to be a form of vampirism and persecuted those that were only ill. That was a bit of irony. The humans waged their holy wars and hunted any vampire brave or foolish enough to attempt life above ground, as well as innocents, until the belief in our existence faded entirely and we became nothing more than the whisperings of folklore.

Even now, in this modern day, too many humans were quick to hate and condemn that which they feared and did not understand. I did not have to be an active participant in their society to perceive as much.

For a couple of years after I was made, we had stayed in the Sotto in Devonshire. It wasn’t until Renata decided to relocate the entirety of the Rosso Lussuria that we made the long and troublesome journey to America.

Vasco smiled and reached across the table for the earthenware pitcher that was set off to the side of the heater. “The elixir of life,” he said, “still fresh from the Donatore’s veins.”

“It seems to grow richer with the centuries. Perhaps we are feeding the Donatore better?” The taste was ruby gold in my mouth, and I could see Vasco thinking the same thing as we sipped in silence.

“Perhaps. Or maybe the humans are healthier before they come below.” Vasco shrugged, clearly unconcerned with how our dinner came to be.

The Donatore were humans that lived among the Rosso Lussuria, though they had their own separate quarters and were rarely seen.

The Rosso Lussuria and Donatore had an agreement dating back thousands of years. They were willing victims, consenting to feed our kind in exchange for certain powers of their own. There was a way to prolong mortality, to give the humans a taste of our strength and heightened senses without actually killing them and bringing them over. Humans afraid of death, or humans who craved power, were the ones who stayed with us.

A drop of vampire’s blood to a human was a powerful thing. It made the Donatore stronger, faster, immune to illness and disease, and harder to kill than other humans. They were not as gifted as true vampires, but with each month that their contract was fulfilled and their duties served, a drop of our blood was given in exchange for theirs. If one of the Donatore were to break the agreement, he would be condemning himself to death, for without our blood, most of them were old enough that their youth would fade and they would die quickly. I, who had once been the Queen’s pet, knew this, for I had seen both parties extract their payment.

The Donatore were not our only blood source. Each clan had an elite group of hunters respectively known as the Cacciatori. It was not only their fellow mortals that humans should fear when wandering unaccompanied during the night. Many years ago, parents told their children stories of our kind. Though the stories might vary, from depicting the Cacciatori as a roving hoard of demons to depicting them as the dark and magical figures of the Wild Hunt, the stories had been used for centuries as a warning. Yet, as warnings often go, some were unheeded.

It was the Cacciatori that had taken me from the human world. The Cacciatori were the only vampires granted permission to venture outside of the Sotto. The humans they kidnapped were either slaughtered or given the chance to become Donatore. For safety reasons, the humans being considered Donatore were not offered an ultimatum between death or service. Given a choice between the two, the human would choose service out of the possibility of life and might turn against the Rosso Lussuria at some point or another—it was purely survival instinct to choose life. They were not informed that if they refused to serve, they would die.

But, neither were they made vampires. It was exceptionally rare for the Donatore to be brought over, as it was for a human to be brought over when taken from the human world. We thought of it as population control. Fewer vampires meant less competition for power and fewer to feed.

Vasco set about pouring us both another glass. When the crimson liquid met the brim of the glass, he handed it to me. My nostrils flared slightly.

The blood was rich, like something velvety on my tongue. I wasn’t aware that I’d swooned into Vasco until I felt his arm drape across my shoulders. I watched him for a moment and drained my glass. It would take a few glasses until the thirst was quenched, until the hunger was satiated.

I’d lost count of how many glasses I’d had. By the time Dante approached, I was still basking in the glow of having fed, gazing languidly at the room. He stopped in front of our table, crossing his arms over his chest. It occurred to me that the gesture wasn’t meant to be one of intimidation, but as Renata’s personal guard, intimidation was his forte.

“Epiphany,” he said, voice deep like something thick and sticky. His dyed red hair was cut short in the back and longer in the front. A fall of red side-swept bangs veiled his right eye in shadow. If it were me, I would’ve either grown the hair out so that it could’ve been tied back or lost the bangs. The bangs would ruin his peripheral vision if he was not careful in a fight. He wore a leather vest over a white frilly shirt with a bunch of lace at the neck and wrists. The shirt should’ve made him look softer, but the leather seriously clashed with it. His black leather pants had silver studs tracing the outline of his legs. At six foot five, Dante was the kind of guy that could snap me in half. I didn’t hate Dante, not like I despised a few of the Elders. I didn’t know Dante enough to hate him, but he was Renata’s bodyguard, and that alone made me wary of him.